#btw i know i didn’t actually draw him here don’t worry that art is coming sksjskhsks

[kay-selfships]

don’t look at me

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

[chromatic-lamina]

randomly (1053 spoilers)–bountiful bounties

First. I love this loose hinged bastard

Maybe, like Hustler, right? The guys who bring the truth to us often have a few scruples loose. Gotta pick out the wheat from the chaff.

But look at this guy. 

Remind you of this guy?

I love smelling salts Kid. Oh my. Like, that’s just a head canon, but it’s so much fun.

Okay. Smouldering Surgeon!

I don’t care if he looks constipated or in pain. In conjunction with this:

We’re winning! Although, I wonder if Bepo will have such stars in his eyes when he realises that he’s no longer in Captain’s Bounty Poster picture. AND I’ll just plug my fic about Bepo’s and Chopper’s criminally low bounties, cos’ I’ve got a whole month before Oda shoots it full of holes. 

Gotta give the new emperor his time to shine, right?

So, are emperors’ bounties not frozen, like the shichibukai? Maybe it was Teach’s “D” the gorosei didn’t want getting out. But  thought that was common knowledge too. I’m so glad to see Law still 

kinda flying under the radar (with knowledge of being a holder of the will of D, anyway). No... they don’t mention Teach’s “D”. Hmm.

Ah, you know, I always thought that CPO had real callbacks to Picasso’s art which had callbacks to a lot of African art  and artefacts, and for this guy 

to be called Guernica-sama, even though the more Picasso elements seem to come from seeing them as a 

whole / hole / 0 /

it fits. Also, destruction. I’m probably missing something. Oda sometimes does things on a whim, but many other things he does with intention.

Okay, that was an aside. Guernica Sama sent through pictures of Joy Boy and then met his fate.

Edit in: Guernica is probably this dude:

which fits the style (Picasso’s) rather than the agent I first stated.

Shout out to my Okinawan man (above), terribly repressed under the Japanese Imperial government, all finesse, all class, knowing what is to be savoured and willing to savour it. His presence alone allowing the head chef to save face. The Okinawan kingdom was Ryukyu, btw. (Fishman Island is Ryugu).

And I love the sound of all of these delicacies, earthy, although not filling: kikurage (or possibly  aragekikurage), tofu (gotta look up the specification), renkon, pickles, I don’t know the last one, everything is actually vegetable based though, AND I totally understand everyone going for festival food too, though! Oda plays such a dance between patronage to monarchs and mockery of them.

Lastly, we got our Jim Morrison wannabe here, like, his threads, man. I don’t care for Fabio Momo or Fabio long-haired Sanji, like, Ugh. But this kinda unkempt I can get into. Mix between Brook and Zoro, but RIP…

Queen and King—you placed your bets on the wrong kinda Joker, unfortunately. I love that Doflamingo is Joker. The wild card. You don’t know how much I love it. Oda has kept him alive for a reason.

BUT, to introduce a beauty such as King to wipe him out so easily, and to desiccate Queen? Where’s Jack? And is this who I think it is?

Is that Caribou? Or what I remember of him? BUT, last seen, King and Queen in Onigashima, now in Udon, apparently. And Caribour too? Oda’s got a few too many loose ends to be able to tie them all up.

My thoughts on Robin and Kozuki Sukiyaki are here.

oh, wait. Gotta get these guys in.

Bepo with squid and Ikkaku with shaved ice and bubble tea. I think that Shachi’s probably got some potato croquettes or something similar.

Lookit! Just Lookit! I think Killer’s got himself a bunch of takoyaki there, though could be wrong, and Oda’s portraying the Kid pirates as slightly less alcoholic than the Hearts. I bet he sometimes regrets making the Hearts so generic, BUT I guess it’s easier to draw them.

And Killer wasn’t too worried about Kid’s murderous intent and competitiveness, so I guess we shouldn’t be either. And I think Oda’s having too much fun drawing cartoon eyes popping from the face.

Guess Law is right. If Luffy’s aim is to bring down all the four yonkou—

what does he do now that he’s his own target?

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers (February 22nd, 2021)

Hello! Here’s another collection of anon ask answers all put together in one big post.

This might be strange considering how upbeat yall are about the fandoms for your games in general, but is there any particular trope or ship you WOULDN'T want us writing/drawing/etc. in relation to your stuff? (IE, any canon you don't want us 'overwriting' or something like that?)

Of course we would want the fan content people make to not be racist, sexist, homophobic, bigoted, harmful, etc. But in terms of generally doing non-canon pairings or adding in headcanons or stuff, we really don’t mind that. People are welcome to have fun and explore their own ideas.

for the 1.2 Android update was it meant to download as a  separate app? I really want to keep my previous save files but they don't show up (also thank u for the updates I'm really excited to get back into the game!!)

We had to change the name of the file and unfortunately for some phones that meant it’s treated as a brand new game. I’m sorry your saves didn’t transfer over to the new version. You can try to look up your specific phone and see if there’s a way to access save files for games on your device and then transfer those saves over to the new build manually. It may or may not be possible.

I'm having some trouble figuring out how to get the update from Itichio without losing my save files? Is it the same game or a folder I can put in the properties? Sorry if this question is not worded well or if this isn't the avenue you'd want to take technical questions on

Are you using Android? If so, the above answer may apply to you. If you’re on PC or Mac, the save files will automatically still be included.

Hey. I really loved playing our life. It was a fun experience and I never thought I would like it this much. I do have a question, I am currently replaying the game and I am choosing choices I never chose at first. In step 2 during the road trip arc, I decided to ask Cove about what he liked to see on people. One of his response was anklets and black eyes. My MC have just happens to have black eyes. Do Cove say black eyes cuz my mc have it or it was just a coincidently programmed into the game?

He uses your eye color intentionally! If you changed your eye color he’d change what he said.

Will step 4 have 10 moments like steps 1-3? 

Step 4 is only an epilogue. It plays like the openings/endings of the earlier Steps where it’s a bunch of scenes all in a row, there aren’t any individual Moments.

hi! who was/were the artist(s) for our life? 

&

who is the artist for Our Life: Beginning and Always?

Main Sprite and CG Artist: Addrossi

Main Background Artist: Vui Huynh

Main Interface Artist: Winter Slice

Other artists who helped out can be seen in the credits of the game.

In the new ol, there are two main love interests... Would it be possible to pair them together or is that weird? 

You can’t stay single and pair them together. If we are going to add all the extra content to have a route where the two LIs get together, it’d be a full poly route where them and the MC were all dating. And that’s not a for sure option yet because it’d add a lot of extra complications. But either way, in OL the relationships all gotta be about the MC, haha.

In OL2, there will be extra LIs in form of DLCs? Like Dexter and Baxter. 

Maybe! We’ll see how it goes.

Since Cove will have 2 diff body types in s4, will the storyline and dialogs reflect this? Or all of it will be the same? Btw love the game and sorry for bad english. Hope this doesn't sound rude 😅 

Some descriptions and pieces of dialog will change, but it won’t impact the story really. And you don’t need to apologize! It’s all good.

Will you ever release the transparent sprites of the Our Life characters? 

Probably not, I’m afraid. They’ve got a lot of pieces and it’d just be kind of hard to deal with, aha.

Something I was curious about, what was your inspiration for making a game with so much customization?

Initially, the idea was just about having a romance where you actually grew up with the LI. But it was pretty stressful to try deciding how fast the relationship would progress with it taking place over such a long period of time and with no real storyline carrying it. People might not wanna play a game where the characters don’t get along as kids, but other people might not bother with a game where kids immediately liked each other. So the obvious answer came, just let the player pick themselves how it goes. From there we simply continued to add more flexibly with the MC due to the same thought process of wanting to make sure people were onboard with how their life was going.

What made you decide to change the artstyle for ol 2 so much? I of course respect all your decisions and will buy the shit out of everything related to ol 2, but i love the original style and i m honestly not a fan of the styles shown on patreon, despite me liking the painterly style in general. (I don t mind the style being changed, just that the examples shown so far all feel like there s something wrong with them.) 

We’ve always used different art styles for each of our projects. They all have distinct looks from each other. It’s just nice to do something new. I’m glad you really like how the first game looks, though. And those samples were only general concepts, rather than the exact options being decided between. We wanted to see reactions to different options. The art style we’re going with won’t be exactly like those, though I personally like all of them. I think players are gonna enjoy the style Our Life: Now & Forever when it’s revealed.

Hey! Is it ok to ask what gender ourlife2 protagonist will be and if we'll be given the same opportunity to customize an MC? Totally understand if you're keeping this under wraps for now if u don't wanna say! 

OL2 will have the same type of MC customization as OL1, but even more refined! So their gender will be up to you.

Hi! I happened upon Our Life on Steam by pure chance. It is such a great game, I am super excited about the DLC, and I just want you all to know that you are awesome! :D I have a question, and I'm sorry if it's been asked before. Do you have plans of making more games similar to Our Life, with customizable player character? The customizable player character was probably the one thing I personally have been desperate for in romance VNs. So glad there finally is one and would love to see more.

Thank you! And yep, we do have plans for more games like Our Life, most notably is another game in the franchise- Our Life: Now & Forever. We’ll also likely have other, non-OL, games with customizable MCs, though we may still have some games with set MCs in the future as well.

On the patreon dlc just curious but is it possible to play it without actually sleeping together/getting the nsfw content? I just want to spend more time with Cove 

Yeah, you can still choose not to go that far. Though the event is shorter if you pass on the 18+ stuff.

At the beginning of Step 2, did Cove end up accidentally falling asleep in your bed? Or did he fall asleep on the floor? 

He fell asleep sitting on the floor with his body/head leaning against the side of the bed.

This may seem like a weird question, but what exactly is the difference between "direct" and "relaxed" on the comfort scale?

Direct is blunter and more teasing, relaxed is lighthearted and goes with the flow.

can the MC have tattoos in step 3? 

Not in Step 3, but you can in Step 4.

how would Cove react if he visited somewhere like North Carolina in winter where it can get in the 20s(F) at night sometimes? 

He would be shocked and unprepared for what serious coldness is really like, haha. The poor beach baby would wanna go home.

Hello! I just joined the PATREON!! It’s amazing! I love your games! I have a question, approximately how much after will the nsfw be out? After or before the dlc 3 and step four? Sorry my English isn’t the best!❤️❤️❤️ 

Thanks so much! The NSFW DLC will be out after the Step 3 DLC but before Step 4. And you don’t need to apologize for that ^^.

This might be obvious but, will step 4 have dlcs? Also, where will the nsfw dlc happen? Won't bother me at all if it s in in our or his house but i do think it d be moderately funny 

Step 4 will have the Cove Wedding DLC and the Derek and Baxter romance DLCs each add a lot of new content to Step 4, though they’re also partially set in Step 2 and Step 3 respectively. The NSFW DLC happens in Cove’s room.

I keep wondering what would've happened if Mr. Holden met Lizzie first instead of the MC. I can't see that turning out well somehow lol. 

It wouldn’t have made a difference. He met the MC’s parents first and they told him about their two kids. He wanted the MC specifically to be Cove’s friend because the two were the same age.

Even though we have a way to go I'm really excited for OL 2! I was curious though, is the next main character going to be adopted again? I thought it was really clever to make the first main character adopted so when players are customizing,  they can make them look how ever they like without worrying about pesky genetics. Just wondering! 

The OL2 MC is not adopted. We wanted to go for a new dynamic. Instead their parents are their biological single mother who is partially customizable and an off-screen sperm donor father. So the mom will look generally like the MC and any other traits not from her can be assumed to come from whoever the father was.

—– —– —–

Thank you so much for all the asks ^^

FAQ   If you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

[clingymickey]

Here's some angst for ya! Got to be honest tho I'm more a fluff gal when it comes to writing but got into the mood of writing some angst. So enjoy <33 (It's my first time writing angst btw.). Also please read the tags before you read this.

ALWAYS BESIDE YOU

Panic. That's all he's feeling at the moment. Panic. Panic. Panic. He feels like he can't breathe. Harsh breaths. He jolted up awake. Eyes wide open, face and palms sweaty, shoulder's stiff, rushed breathing; right there beside him is his husband, his partner, lover, family, with a concerned and wary look on his face. His hands running up and down his back comforting him, making him feel safe.

"Hey, Mickey, Mick, what's wrong?" Ian asks worriedly.

Eyes look towards him, his breath still harsh. He's trying to think of words to say but nothing comes out.

"Hey, breathe, Mick, just breathe" he says softly. "Just follow me, alright."

His chest rising, and as it deflates, warm air brushing Mickey's cheek. He tries to follow the same; soon his breaths slowly becoming steady again.

"Thank you," Mickey finally lets out, voice a little hitched. "I really needed that."

Ian says nothing except for an accepting nod and his hands holding his head tight.

"You wanna talk about it?" Ian asks calmly once the tension died down. It's fine if Mickey doesn't want to talk about it, he knows whatever it was bothering him, it would be hard for him to talk about.

Mickey doesn't reply, and Ian doesn't push it any further.

After a long time, he finally whispers, "I think I had a bad dream."

Well, more like a bad childhood memory than a dream.

"It was Terry" he said with a tone of spite. "He sent me and Iggy for a run, and when I came back, he was standing there with 4 bottles of empty beer next to him, throwing all of my drawings into the flame."

Mickey paused for some time. Chewing his bottom lip with his canine hard enough until it started to bleed slightly – thinking of how to put his words next. Ian's arms still wrapped around his back and head, calming his fear away.

"Drawing is for pussies is what he said," voice breaking a little. "Ain't no son of mine a pussy" Mickey repeats, then wincing, remembering exactly what his father did after he said that.

"He slowly walked towards me and as he came closer his fist met my face sending me towards this glass table we had, my body crashing into that, it became all bloody and bruised up, broken glass pieces everywhere." he says, smiling a little, although his smile not meeting his eyes.

It quickly became silent again, just the sound of their breathing filling up the room, Ian just waiting for him to continue. All he wanted to do at this moment was to hug him and protect him from all the hurtful memories he had, and make him feel safe, but he didn't, instead he gave Mickey his space, wanting to hear from him what happened next. It's not like Ian doesn't know, he very well knows what Terry was capable of doing and what he had done, yet he wants Mickey to tell him, so that he knows he can feel comfortable telling his pain.

"He hit me harder the next time, at least 7 or 8 times, but this time with his gun."

His eyes were glassy with tears forming in the corner of his eyes, his nose becoming red. He's trying to hold it in, not to break, but he fails. Tears running down the side of his cheeks, eyes becoming puffy, letting out a quiet choked cry. Ian's hands steering Mickey's head towards the crook of his neck and just hugging him there, silently promising himself to never let go.

"As he's kicking me, while I'm on the floor, I see Mandy just peeking out from behind the wall," he continues. "She was scared, just looking at what was happening to me, crying, and holding her favorite stuffed animal tight…I could never forget that sight."

"I think that's also when we both realized that I would no longer be able to protect her from Terry."

Ian wanted to say that it wasn't true, that Mickey was always able to protect her no matter what, and that it was fine now because Terry was no longer here to torture them, but he stopped himself and just let Mickey continue.

"You wanna know something funny?" he asks, head tilting up to look at Ian.

"What?" Ian says back, voice sounding a little choked up.

"I never actually felt any pain, after I hit the table rest everything became numb," he chuckled wearily, cool air hitting Ian's chest. "I couldn't feel anything when Terry pistol-whipped me, nothing, except for this feeling like I couldn't breathe, and pain from when Mandy saw me like that."

Mickey let out a sigh.

"After he was done, he came up close to my face, breath smelling like beer and smoke, he told me that if he ever saw me drawing or saw any art of mine, he would do more than what he did to me that day – he'd teach me a lesson he said."

Neither of them said anything afterwards, they'd just laid there holding one another. It was one of those moments where nothing had to be said or spoken, just the presence of each other was enough.

A beat later, Mickey exhaled sharply, shifting his position a little, but making no effort to move out of Ian's arms.

"Thank you," he says again. "Thanks for just you know listening to me and just being there, even if it didn't affect you."

"You don't have to thank me, Mick, I'll always be there for you okay. No matter what, I'll always be beside you. And it does affect me, whatever happened or happens to you, affects me in every way 'cos I love you." Ian says, gently tightening his grip around Mickey.

"I love you too, Ian" he replies softly, finally smiling, this time it reached his eyes.

Later that night, not once did he get a bad dream, worrying himself about Terry.

------

A few days later.

"Hey, Mick, guess what I got you" Ian sings, with a grin so wide it could probably slice his face in half.

"What?" Mickey grumbles, voice hoarse, as he's slowly getting himself out from his slumber.

His eyes immediately go towards the small box that's in front of him on his lap, wrapped up all pretty and nice with a bow resting on top of it.

Was it his birthday? Anniversary? No, he's pretty sure he would remember that. A special occasion?

"What's in this, Gallagher" he mumbles, eyeing his husband suspiciously.

"Why don't you check it, Gallagher." He retorts, with a sly smirk.

Mickey hazardously tears down the wrapping paper, leaving a mess all over the bed and floor, opens the box, and can't believe what he's seeing.

"So do you like it?" Ian questions, unable to read his husband's face right away.

Of course, he likes it, how could he not.

"Fuck yeah, I love it." He says cheerfully, pulling out the drawing book and color pencils.

"Open the book." Ian says making a gesture with his hands towards the book.

Mickey slowly opens the book to its first page, never losing eye contact with Ian as he opens it. Then, he looks down and notices the flyer for drawing classes.

"Now that Terry's gone, you don't have to be afraid, so I thought I could get you this." He mumbles.

Mickey doesn't say anything, just staring between the flyer and Ian, unable to put his happiness into words.

"Soo, is it okay? D-do you like it" Ian stuttered.

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay, it's more than okay in fact." Mickey nods, eyes filling up with tears. "Thank you"

"You deserve it." Ian says back softly.

"You sap." Mickey snickers. "You know what, I think you deserve a treat for this." He says, trying to steer the conversation into playfulness.

"Oh yeah" Ian said, taking the hint.

Mickey leans up to place a peck on his lips. What was supposed to be a small peck turned into a deep and meaningful kiss, with Ian not wanting Mickey to pull back.

"I love you." Mickey pants into Ian's lips after pulling them apart to get some air.

"I know, I love you too" Ian whispered, reminding him of the time when Mickey said those exact words when they were in prison.

[thatcartoonnetworkblog]

Comic Review: Cartoon Network Presents #6

I said I was gonna do this, so let’s get this rolling!

Okay, so Cartoon Network Presents was among the first lineup of DC’s CN comics, alongside their Scooby-Doo book and The Flintstones and the Jetsons. Those are pretty self-explanatory, but CN Presents was meant to be a grab bag of the rest of their lineup, featuring favorites from the vast Hanna-Barbera library as well as some of their recent hits. At this point, I believe they were just doing Dexter’s Lab and Cow & Chicken, as Johnny Bravo’s first season was more or less written off as a failure at the time. But don’t worry, Johnny will have his day.

Okay, so confession time- this story is not new to me. Way back when, DC released a freebie comic which had stories from each of their three CN titles, and this was featured in there, alongside a short Scooby story where a stalker keeps on doning a costume to get closer to Daphne, and a Jetsons story where George is replaced by a robot version of himself. Needless to say, some serious memories came crawling back to me when I saw the cover.

Anyway, both of the stories featured in this issue are done by regulars in the comic industry, and I’ll bring up how apparent that is in a bit,

That said, I can see this story actually fit in an episode of Cow & Chicken, as it’s a cautionary tale that doesn’t go in the usual direction you’d expect, like many of David Feiss’ cartoons tend to do things. This starts off with Chicken littering, which goes against what his and Cow’s teacher taught them in school. Chicken, as per usual, is apathetic to his loud teacher’s learnings, but he changes his tune when Cow mentions that bringing in metal can bring you some change,

Needless to say, Chicken has some ideas, and he starts scourging around town. There’s a slight detour when he learns that you only receive payments from going to the trash collector directly, but it gives him incentive to have Flem and Earl help him out.

Alongside a dubious reading of Malcolm X’s philosophy.

The three of them find enough metal to hopefully make them a little richer, and they’re greeted at the trash heep by a weird looking Cerberus creature, and guess who they belong to!

Yeah, it’s the Red Guy. It’s not a Cow & Chicken segment without him, is it? 

I had a better screenshot of his appearance, but it came out weird and I don’t feel like taking another, so let’s skip to this part where Chicken is caught cheating the scale, and is about to be rightfully punished along with Flem and Earl. Not by death, but by filling up the Red Guy’s furnace, which is actually pretty fair.

But have no fear, Supercow is on the way to come save the day! This comic even translates her dialogue for us, which the show never did. 

It ends with her beating the shit out of Cerberus and the Red Guy, even though Chicken deserves his punishment. Flem and Earl, not so much.

It’s a fun enough story, and it does seem like a perfect fit for the show. The dialogue fits right in with the show.

Even Flem’s awkward, vaguely racist broken English. I’m not touching that one...

The art style is a little off, though, looking more like a regular DC comic than an episode of Cow & Chicken.

I mean, it looks like Chicken, but doesn’t the penciling look closer to an issue of Robin at the time instead of something? But it’s a minor complaint, as it’s still a fun read.

The b story is new to me, with a Quick Draw McGraw story. It starts off pretty ordinary, as El Kabong OLE’s himself to save the day. Er, not that ordinary, as El Kabong is a bit of a klutz and usually needs Baba Looey’s help, but it’s okay, something’s about to change.

It turns out that El Kabong’s identity may be liable for copyright infringement, as there’s a Canadian crime fighter known as Le Kabong.

We meet him here, and I believe he’s meant to be Loopy de Loop, but he looks more like Hokey Wolf... or maybe Mr. Jinx. Hanna-Barbeta made some nice-looking characters, but they get pretty samey.

Anyway, his agency was the one who ordered a cease and desist to El Kabong, while his French Canadian doppelganger refuses to follow suit, considering it unheroic. Until it’s discovered that someone kidnapped the local hockey team, and he takes action... so I guess he blames the devil we know? That isn’t really explained, as the next panel shows Quick Straw accepting a battle of the Kabongs.

So we’re about to get a WWE (or I guess WWF. Or maybe WCW?) match, until a new challenger approaches, with a German vigilante jumping in.

And then many more. This switches from wrestling to Super Smash Bros to a full on battle royale of the localized knock-offs. Which I won’t lie, it’s a pretty funny idea.

Luckily, what’s a Kabong without a trusty sidekick to save the day? A few of them attempt to team up to find a way to put a stop to this, including one who looks like Boo Boo with Yogi’s hat and Johnny Bravo’s glasses.

So it ends with the Kabong from Mars (no Spiders) threatening all of the puny humans to stop their shenanigans, and go back to their duties. Which hey, it works! And the story ends with Quick Draw attempting to turn the ten million pesos El Kabong received at the beginning from saving the day into cash. Except pesos are basically useless, which is funny haha right?

This reads like a Hanna-Barbera writer from the 90′s attempting to write a classic character in the present day, and mostly works alright. This does show off one problem with Quick Draw though, that its take on Hispanic culture during the period of the Wild West is problematic. Baba Looey for instance has an exaggerated voice, and he probably needs an overhaul to work today (how did that work in Jellystone btw? I still need to see it). And unfortunately, this point in the late 90′s isn’t all that much more sympathetic to Hispanic culture, as their take mostly stays the same.

But away from that, it’s pretty funny. I do really like Quick Draw when it focuses on how pathetic he is as a supposed hero, either with or without the El Kabong persona.

But I wouldn’t have known if this was in if I didn’t pick up the book. I do understand why Cow & Chicken was the main attraction- *insert Malcolm in the Middle “future is now, old man” img here*- but part of the appeal of Cartoon Network at the time was the mix of old and new school. It wasn’t uncommon to see a classic like Quick Draw next to a modern fav like Cow & Chicken.

But oh well, let’s finish this up. The letters column features a 12 year old offering some of his cartoon ideas- I hope John made it; another boy named John who offers a cute drawing of Space Ghost, and asks about Jan, Jase, and Blip, while insulting the latter, which the editor is not here for; and another boy asking if there are plans for stories featuring 2 Stupid Dogs or Secret Squirrel, as well as hopes for a Cow & Chicken comic. The editor shoots down 2 Stupid Dogs happening, and to be fair, I don’t believe that ever happens. Classic cartoons from 40 years earlier? Sure. Something that ended about five years earlier? Old news. But I do believe Secret Squirrel does show up at some point.

The editor then bemoans how no girls brought in letters this month, and offers a preview of the next issue, which involves Wacky Races. And guess what, I have that one too!

The issue proper ends with an editorial about the importance of recycling, which is fine and all, but my reaction to reading this was “blahblahblah put on more cartoons”

Not bad! Oh, and one more thing of note.

I know, I know, they’re the enemy, and I was all over CN at this point, but I have memories of this promotion. Even though I believe it was long over at this point, and Alex Mack should have aired its last episodes before this issue hit stands. 

Here’s an ad! And now it’s in your head. Sorry/you’re welcome!

[darkeninganon]

(So, this storyline now has a name; it is the Ender Family AU! Dream’s design was based off @winifreyd and their White Enderman Dream! They are awesome and do amazing artwork, and this story would probably not exist if they did not  share their art! Warning for gore, blood, very heavy torture, passing out (as a fear/pain response), forced drugging/drinking (Potions are canonically drugs/alcohol), unwanted contact (Dream doesn’t like people touching his fur), and (there is no nice way of saying this) flaying. If you spot something else, message me and I will add it and apologize profusely. The beginning is deceptively sweet btw, just as another small warning.)

Ranboo looked between Tommy and Tubbo. His face was burning, but only one side showed a tinge of color.

"You mean you really don't remember staring down Quackity?" Tommy found it hard to believe, and was currently the main person opposing such an excuse.

"Really, I don't! You know how much I hate eye contact."

"He's got a point..."

Michael oinked in agreement. The trio were currently in the zombie piglin's room, Ranboo holding the child as the little monster drew something. Tubbo was kneeling next to the table, head partially resting on said table. Tommy was the only one standing, arms crossed, glaring at Ranboo.

Ranboo sighed, shaking his head. "Even if you don't believe me, it is the truth."

"Oh, I believe you, I just want to know why this is the first time we are hearing about it!" Tommy hissed, throwing his hands up. "I mean, if you hide that, what else are you hiding?!"

"Oh come on Tommy! Ranboo wouldn't-"

"Quite a bit because I would rather NOT be the reason someone kills Tubbo or Michael." Tubbo snapped his head towards Ranboo, horror plastered on his face.

"WHAT?!"

Michael snorted, holding up his picture. It depicted Ranboo holding a red square, and speaking in scribbles. Ranboo groaned as Michael proudly displayed his picture. The baby zombie piglin still had yet to learn to speak, but his writing skills were far beyond where most thought he should be at.

Tubbo stared at the picture, clearly concerned. "Michael, sweetie, have you seen daddy act weird?" Michael nodded, borderline enthusiastically. The little zombie pigling then grabbed a sheet of paper, scribbling most of it in red crayon before writing three large letters on it, and handing it to Ranboo.

Tommy and Tubbo stared.

"So, I guess I blew something up." Ranboo stated, staring at the crudely drawn TNT. He looked back to Tubbo and Tommy; "I think it's about time to tear down the walls of your old house."

"Damnit Ranboo!"

"I'm sorry?!"

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Dream stared, listening to the murmur of Quackity and Sam talking outside the wall of lava. It is a new day, Quackity is back. Dream could only wonder what Quackity was going to do today. Maybe he'll take my teeth, that would make sense. Or perhaps my other eye. Yeah, that sounds like something they could justify doing. Dream sat up as the lava fell away, Sam and Quackity standing at attention. Quackity was decked out in netherite armor. Enchanted netherite armor. Dream's ears fell back as a low growl fell from his chest.

Quackity made his way across the pit of lava, standing across from Dream with nothing in his hands but a potion and a pair of shears. Once the lava covered the opening again, Sam came through, glaring at Dream.

"Huh, what's the special occasion?" Dream smirked, tilting his head. Of course Sam; dear, dear Warden Sam; would want to help Quackity. "Don't tell me I actually scared you two." The prisoner chuckled, glancing between the two.

Quackity held out the potion; it looked like mud mixed with glitter. "Drink this."

"Excuse me?"

"Dream, do as Quackity says. I really don't want to have to force you." Sam stated, monotone. Dream stared at the warden, incredulous.

"No! I'm not drinking anything that crazy moron brings in here!" Sam sighed, striding over to Dream. "Get the hell away from me!" Sam went behind Dream, locking the prisoner's arms in an uncomfortable hold. Dream began yelling, kicking his legs out as Quackity approached. Quackity took Dream's jaw into a tight hold, digging his nails right into the joint and forcing Dream's mouth open. Once that was done, Quackity tore the cork from the bottle, shoving it into Dream's mouth.

Dream gagged, coughing and thrashing in an effort to get the bottle out of his mouth and not swallow the bitter liquid. Eventually, the potion's effects won out over Dream's own desires, his body going limp and his struggles ceasing.

Dream's eye darted around the cell. He wanted to move, wanted to cry out, wanted to not be sitting still. No matter how much he tried though, his body just sat there, even as Quackity removed the bottle and let go of his jaw.

"Hell yeah!" Quackity cheered, throwing the now empty bottle into the lava. "I told you it would work!"

Sam let go, gently resting Dream's head on his lap. "Yeah. You're sure he can't feel anything?" The warden sounded worried as he placed Dream's tongue back in his mouth and closed his jaw.

Quackity chuckled, "Yeah, I'm sure." He dragged his hand through Dream's fur, drawing lines at seemingly random points.

He's lying. Dream wanted to scream, Quackity's hands were cold and he hated as the "visitor" ran against the grain, causing the fur to stand up on end. Sam, he's lying! Please! But he couldn't say anything.

Sam, for his part, was staring at Dream sadly, carefully petting the prisoner as if he didn't co-sign this. He jumped as a hand snatched his wrist, holding it still. Sam looked to Quackity, who was still smiling.

"Seeing as how Dream isn't going to feel it, why don't you feel how soft he is!"

Sam looked at the prisoner, resting helplessly in his lap. Even though Dream's body couldn't move, his eyes were glaring at Sam. Still....

Curiosity won over the Warden as he took off his glove. Even with Dream unable to move, Sam was hesitant to touch the fur. When Quackity had entered the prison, that was all he talked about. It was just fur, what made it so special? What it because it was from Dream, and the prisoner never let anyone touch it?

Quackity groaned, snapping Sam from his thoughts. Without warning, the visitor grabbed Sam's hand and buried it in the mane around Dream's head. Sam could only stare. It was... So freakishly soft.

"Right!?" Sam glanced at Quackity, who was smiling like the cat that got the canary. "Seriously though, seeing as how he's going to be trapped in here for eternity, he really doesn't need this fur. He'll just overheat!"

No, I won't! Sam, please stop this! Tears fell from Dream's eyes, his mind racing. Taking his fur was the one thing he never expected.

Sam nodded, resuming petting Dream. "Just... be as quick as possible."

Quackity nodded as Dream's eyes darted to the man with the shears. "Let's see... Let's start here then!" Quackity stated, opening the shears and pulling Dream's skin right at his hip. Dream watched in horror as Quackity carefully cut a thin layer of skin and fur from his body, pulling and cutting just enough to make a starting point for him to continue. "Man, this is going to take a long while. Sam, would you mind grabbing a few more potions, just to be sure?"

Sam nodded, carefully setting Dream's head down on the obsidian floor, giving the prisoner one last pet before drinking a potion and diving into the lava.

As soon as Sam was gone, Quackity looked at Dream, and slid his hand between the skin he had just cut free, and the lower levels of skin and muscle. Dream tensed, the salt from Quackity's hand burning the fresh wound. "Man, this must really suck for you." The visitor laughed, a cruel smirk coming across his face as he wiggled his fingers in the wound. Dream gave a weak whimper, tear pouring from his eyes as the wound became wider and burned more. "Do you have any idea how hard is was to get the potion just right? Make sure you can't move, can't talk, but also heal you and make sure you can feel it? It was hard, man." Quackity finally removed his hand from the wound, marveling at the lack of blood. "This is probably what Tommy felt like. I have no idea what the afterlife is like, but maybe one day, I'll ask him."

Quackity straightened up as Sam came back, carrying a bag filled to the brim with the potions Quackity had made. The visitor smiled, turning back to Dream and resuming his work. Dream watched, heart racing as he finally saw what his fur and skin hid. Thin muscle hung from bones that showed painfully through in some places. It only took about two minutes for it to look like Dream was wearing a furry shirt or hoodie; a quiet whimper bubbling up from his chest as the first “hem” was finally completed.

Sam snatched a potion from the bag, opening Dream’s mouth and doing his best to make sure the prisoner didn’t drown on the vile liquid. Quackity gave Sam a weird look, getting ready to cut open Dream’s front.

“Really? He has another hour or so on the first potion.” Quackity muttered, pulling the skin up with his fingers, smirking as the muscles underneath twitched in pain.

Sam cast an unseen glance at Quackity, removing the empty bottle and throwing it into the lava. “He must have some form of tolerance, even after all this time. The numbing factor wore off I think.” Sam sounded distant, did Sam even believe his own words? Surely he knew.

“Well then let him deal with it. It’s not our fault he’s weird.” Quackity retaliated, making one final cut right at Dream’s collarbone, stopping as he noticed Sam flinch. “Hey, I’m sure Tommy felt way more pain than whatever little pin pricks this monster is feeling. Need I remind you-”

“No!” Sam winced, “No, I don’t need to be reminded.” He repeated, softer. Through the thick lenses of the mask, Dream could see Sam’s eyes darting between the prisoner and Quackity. Sam went back to petting Dream, unaware he had stopped for so long.

Quackity shrugged, cutting a gracefully curved line around Dream’s collarbones, stopping about halfway on either side. He grabbed Dream’s arms, inspecting both before dropping one to the ground, and making a quick slash around the whole wrist.

Blood poured from the fresh wound, diminishing to a trickle as Sam’s hand wrapped tightly around the small wrist. “Quackity! What the hell?!”

“Wow, language Sam.”

“Screw the language! What the heck were you thinking?! Get the bandages out of the bag now!” Sam glared at the visitor. Removing Dream’s fur was one thing, but getting so close to such areas… Sam would not stand for it.

“Will you relax? Look, it’s already closed!” Quackity pried Sam’s hand away, revealing a thin, bare scar circling Dream’s wrist. “Nothing to get pissy about.” He huffed, grabbing the prisoner’s other hand and doing the same. Sam was quick to cover the wound again, glaring hatefully at Quackity. “Alright. I need you to turn him onto his stomach so I can finish up the neck. I was not going to risk cutting your legs.”

“Quackity…”

“What? Don’t tell me you actually feel bad for this piece of trash.”

Sam looked between the visitor and prisoner. Dream looked terrified. Sam held out his hand. “I’ll take care of it.” Quackity stared at Sam, hesitantly handing him the shears. Quackity watched as the Warden made a shallow cut along the back of the prisoner’s neck, breathing heavily and muttering. Sam practically threw the shears back to Quackity, petting Dream as soon as they left his hands. “There, done.”

Quackity nodded, looking down at the paralyzed prisoner. He struggled to pry Dream’s skin open, humming and inspecting where it connected. Quackity took out a netherite knife, sliding it under the skin and between the muscle.

Dream watched, muscles burning and twitching. A ringing filled his ears, his heart racing, his lungs tight. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt way too hot… no, he was cold… Well, his body was cold, his arms freezing, but his face felt like it was right next to the lava. Sam… Sam something’s wrong… SAM! Sam please! SAM! Dream was suddenly in a void, screaming and wailing filling his head. He blinked, back in the cell. Quackity was further along in removing his skin. He could see his ribs laying right underneath the smooth muscle, his vision flitting to Sam, distress hidden by dark lenses. Sam’s head snapped to look at Quackity, muffled words demanding something. Dream’s mouth was pried open, another bottle shoved down his throat.

Black consumed him again. Back to the cell. Something hard and soft was in his mouth. Sam was holding his head, forcing him to look at the warden. Sam kept calling his name. Black again. Back to Sam. Black again. Sam. Black. Sam. Black. Sam. Black. Cloth?

Dream could feel his mouth was open; he could feel something wrapped around his body, arms, even his legs. Everything hurt. His eyes were wet, not from the cloth.

“S….Sam…?” His voice sounded too quiet. A hands was suddenly placed on his head; a gloveless, unarmored, calloused hand.

“It’s…”

“Sam… I’m sorry… I’m really, really sorry…”

Sam sat there, staring at Dream. Dream’s whole body was covered in tightly bound gauze. He looked almost like a mummy rather than… whatever he was. The only parts of him that still had fur were his head, hands, and knees. Sam had to fight with Quackity over leaving the fur on his knees. Sam sighed, closing his eyes as he took a breath, one hand resting on Dream’s chest while the other continued to pet him. “I know you are. I know.” Sam opened his eyes, staring at the creature laying on the floor before him, “It’s not me you have to apologize to though.”

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Quackity held up the pure white pelt. He had just finished cleaning it.

“Damn.” Quackity turned, smiling wildly at Schlatt. “Where the fuck did you get a coat like that?” The goat-man ghost lit up a cigarette, reaching out and touching the fur. “Again I say this: Damn.”

Quackity laughed, “I got it from my dear friend in prison.” Schlatt paused in his appraisal of the fur, staring at Quackity as if the still living man had grown another head. “Not like he needed it with how hot that place is. Besides,” Quackity pulled the fur away, brushing the soft hairs against his face. He froze, jolting to look at Schlatt, “Did you know his fur was this soft?”

The ghost stared, Quackity had a look to him that made Schlatt happy he was already dead. “No…” He spoke softly, lowering the cigarette he had. “I had no clue.” Schlatt watched as Quackity skipped way, the beautiful white pelt held close. Schlatt shook his head. Not for the first time in his life was he thankful that Quackity was on his side.

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 4

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,800

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, small food mention, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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Summary: “Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

(Make sure to read all the way to the end if you want my thoughts so far! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Virgil started to spend more time with the popular kids after they got back to school, something he never thought would be happening. They were gossipy and didn’t really appeal to Virgil as overall people but Roman was their friend so he started to get to know them for the sake of his best friend. He didn’t even really know them honestly, they almost never talked about themselves or their interests or anything in terms of personal information, the conversations almost consistently focused on the drama going around the school that day. There was something new every time they went over. For a solid month, he and Roman would go chat for a minute or two before going off to find Patton and Logan.

That was actually what they were just doing that day when one of Roman’s friends got Virgil’s attention.

“Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

Virgil looked over to Madison if he remembered correctly, trying to hide most of his shock at the fact that she even addressed him. Not many of Roman’s friends acknowledged him much when they would go over but Virgil guessed they’d taken some interest in him. He had been coming over with Roman for quite a good while now, it figures they’d notice his presence at some point. He had to respond quick though, this chance couldn’t go to waste. “Uh, ok, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Well, an odd question to start off with.

Virgil shrugged a bit. “Eh, just what everyone else listens to, you know? Not really anything in particular. It’s not like I really look for songs to listen to by anyone specific.”

Roman nudged him with a snort. “Since when has this ever been the case? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re emo through and through,” he said, a certain fondness to his look. Virgil bumped his shoulder with a laugh back, fixing him with a playful glare.

“And what if I can like things that you don’t expect of me, huh?” Virgil asked with a slight tease. Roman simply raised an eyebrow but shrugged, letting the argument go without much more of a struggle. Roman wasn’t wrong though, he still listened to everything that he had before, none of it had changed despite what he said. Definitely none of what people usually listened to. He was never one to follow trends with music or otherwise and Roman unfortunately knew that.

“Do you do anything interesting?” one of the people joining the conversation asked.

“Things here and there, not exactly much. School is a drag, takes up way too much of my time to actually let me focus on anything even remotely interesting,” Virgil said calmly, trying to look casual. He hoped it was working, he felt like a nervous wreck. With a few laughs and a “Fuck yeah it is!” he mustered up the courage to add in, “I draw if that counts for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if we take a look?”

Virgil nodded and rummaged through his bag, finding a leather bound book. This one happened to be his more serious one, he had another that was far more personal stashed away. Only Roman, Patton, and Logan ever saw that one, and not even in its full entirety. The personal one had gotten a lot more use than the one currently in his hands. Virgil slid the book over the table and he watched as it was opened to a page of really messy scribbles in the shape of a distraught person’s face. He’d remembered drawing that one, he was in the middle of history sophomore year having a panic attack but was too nervous to ask to step outside.

“Woah, this is cool man,” Tyler said as he looked over it, others nodding in agreement. They proceeded to flip through the pages for a bit while they took turns asking him more questions.

With so much talk, Virgil noticed Roman jump up suddenly, tugging at Virgil’s sleeve frantically. “Pat and Specs!” he explained before packing up his things frantically. “So sorry guys, I need to talk to them before we have to go to class! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!” he shouted out as he started speed walking, Virgil in tow. Virgil barely managed to collect up his stuff before he was at Roman’s side, seeing the slightest crease between Roman’s eyebrows. As relieved as Virgil was to be away from all of the questions and potential judgement, he noticed Roman was in a big rush. He couldn’t really place why.

“Hey, you uh.. You ok? What’s up?” Virgil asked, relieved as Roman slowed down a little as they turned a corner.

“I just want to get to Pat and Specs, they’re our friends you know?” Roman asked with a bit of an edge before sighing. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to uh.. Hit it off so much with them, I usually just say a quick hello really,” he explained.

“Really? You think so?” Virgil really hoped he was impressing the popular kids, they were Roman’s friends after all. If he was having luck with them, he wasn’t going to lose Roman that easily. He couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’d already put so much at risk.

“Yeah but anyone who doesn’t like you how you are is insane,” Roman said lowly. Virgil thought he saw Roman’s jaw clench for a second but he quickly looked ahead of them as Roman glanced over.

Virgil was tackled in a hug by Patton, causing him to smile as he hugged back. He didn’t smile for long though as the bell rang, causing Roman to sigh. He looked over, laughing a little awkwardly. “Ha, sorry Ro, didn’t mean to make us so late.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s ok, just means we’ll have to get here as soon as possible tomorrow!” With that, he and Logan started to talk as they headed to class together.

Virgil watched as Roman walked away from him and Patton and he frowned slightly before Patton was nudging his shoulder and nodding his head to the direction of their classes.

Virgil nodded back and started walking, burying his hands deep into his pockets. He really wished he had his usual hoodie to pull over his head and hide from the world. His bangs would have to do, giving him a good look at the sickeningly sweet pink he’d decided on a month prior. Who let him do that again?

“Hey, you ok?” Patton asked, silently offering Virgil a cookie. Snickerdoodle today, Virgil would’ve usually loved it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil told him. “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”

Patton looked at him with a worried look for a second before sighing, taking a bite of the cookie himself. “Alright Virge, if you say so. Who knows, maybe some rest is all you need, make sure you go easy on yourself!”

Virgil agreed, looking ahead of them.

He went home that day and went through the motions in a haze, glad when he finally got out of his disgustingly bright outfit. He stared blankly at the wall when he got a text from Roman.

“Hey, sorry I was so tense where we left things off.. I promise you didn’t do anything, that was all me.”

“What was up with that?” Virgil texted back.

Roman’s response took a minute before it popped up on Virgil’s screen. “I don’t know, I just didn’t expect them to really take such an interest in you. They can be a bit... Stuffy. Like, all the time, I much prefer hanging out with you, Pat, and Specs.”

“I mean, they’re your friends right? They asked me questions, I answered.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some of your answers surprised me though lol, you are truly a dark and stormy knight after all!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to expand my tastes, aren’t I? You got me into some of your dumb musicals after all.”

“They are not dumb, take that back you jerk!”

Virgil snorted, hugging his pillow to his chest as he typed out another message. “Oh yeah? Make me, you pompous thespian drama queen.”

“I just might!”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman shot him a quick text reading “Shit, GTG, I need to run a few scenes before I sleep! Until tomorrow~!”

“Go chase your dreams of ‘professional make believe’ as Logan would say, night.”

As an afterthought, Virgil tacked on a red heart before blushing harshly, cursing into his hands. He really did that, no taking that one back now was there?

Either way, check in time. Roman was still his friend, they just had a normal conversation like two human beings ought to be able to have. While he seemed a little off-put by some of the changes Virgil was talking about, he didn’t seem to take it as a serious offense so a plus there. The clothes were horrible, Virgil still hated his hair, but he was doing this for Roman so he’d suck it up. Roman’s friends were starting to like him, they liked his art so that was good. Luckily they latched on to something he couldn’t lie about.

Just as Virgil was about to go to bed, another notification popped up on his phone, this time from an unknown number. Virgil stared at it for moment, his brow furrowed. He opened it though and read it.

“Hey Virgil, this is Madison! Got ur number from Roman’s phone lol, hope u don’t mind sweetie!”

Well, he kind of did mind but putting that aside-

“Hi, did you need anything?”

“Not rn but I might! Just wanted to have ur number just in case. Anyways, I’m going to bed, see u tomorrow!”

Virgil nodded to himself before he got one more text.

“BTW loveeeee ur artwork, keep up the good work bby!”

This was certainly... Bizarre. He didn’t expect to ever have the number of a popular girl in his phone but he never knew high school would be this insane. He’d survive this though, for Roman if nothing else. And if not, he just might lose Roman forever and never be able to forget about it for as long as he lives! Ok, breathe Virgil, breathe...

Things would work out, Virgil was going to make sure they did or die trying. Nobody, Roman included, could think to stop him now.

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More Prom Queen content huh? Anyways hey hey hey guys! How’d you like the newest chapter?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to feel about this one. I feel like all of my writings sound like they’re in an echo chamber. Like as if the events are completely isolated and don’t fit into an expansive narrative and existence. I have no idea if that makes a bit of sense, it might just be my depression tbh? It’s been kicking my butt more than usual.

But Virgil is finally getting noticed by the popular kids, woohoo! This obviously can’t go wrong! We shall see what Virgil will be getting up to with time!

As always, feel free to leave comments or send me asks and whatnot if you want to talk with me about the story! I’d love to hear from you guys!

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Taglist: @artissijules, @virgils-paranoia, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars, @falsemood, @katlikethesword

[thegalleonsnest]

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting! 

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic. 

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.” 

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…” 

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.”  “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

[mysteira6]

IkeRev Loki Genetta - Like a Cat

Hi I’m obsessed with Loki Genetta and @maedayo’s art of him has inspired me to write these little scenarios with Cradle’s local Nyandere Cheshire Cat. Enjoy~!

(This will be in your POV, btw! I also tried my best to write this in a format similar to the game’s script. You’re welcome. :3)

                                          ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

No matter how you look at him, Loki still looks like a cat.

I chuckled at the thought as another breeze blew by the meadow, brushing the fuchsia hair of the man beside me and drawing a laugh from me. His mismatched eyes were sparkling with joy as he poked the strawberry shortcake on his plate with his fork and took another bite of it. 

“Mm~ Your cakes are always the best, Alice!” He smiled at me warmly. A blush found its way to my cheeks as I watched Loki take another bite of the vanilla-coloured cake, the unmistakable glee clear in his voice. “You should really think about opening a sweets shop in Cradle,”

I scratched my head sheepishly. “That sounds really ambitious, Loki,” I shrugged at the thought of competing against all the current confectionaries in Cradle. “There are already so many talented bakers in the Central Quarter… I highly doubt that my desserts would stand out compared to them,”

“But your sweets are all so good!” Loki replied with a grin. “I bet everyone in Cradle would love them~”

“You’re too kind,” I muttered to myself, hoping that he wouldn’t hear me. Despite my earlier response, my mind began to wander along the thought of actually working in a desserts shop in Cradle. Considering that I used to work in a confectionery in London, it wasn’t a completely foreign experience to me. I could still remember all the recipes that I used time and time again back then, so maybe-

“Loki!!!”

In the midst of my thoughts, Loki had sneakily snatched the slice of cake that was on my plate, and was now happily munching away at it. “Haha, you didn’t even notice a thing, Alice! This cake is mine now!” He laughed wholeheartedly as he placed another strawberry covered slice of cake into his mouth, grinning at his success.

“Hey, that was my slice!” Placing my utensils gently on top of the picnic mat, I glared at Loki, crossing my arms. He didn’t seem to catch onto my anger, however; instead, he leaned close to me and lifted a piece of cake towards my mouth with his fork with an alluring gleam in his eyes

“Do you want me to feed you instead?”

My cheeks instantly heated up at his words, my heart suddenly beating very loudly in my ears. I was frozen by Loki’s gaze, his burnt caramel and topaz gold eyes staring back at me. It felt like a whole minute passed before my boyfriend finally broke the silence.

“Hm? You don’t want it?” He asked with a cheeky grin. I remained silent, unable to utter a single word.

“Well, I guess more cake for me then~” He said with a sly smile before redirecting his fork back into his mouth, moving away from me as he continued savouring his treat, the white icing on top of the cake smearing the side of his mouth a little. I found myself letting out a long sigh that I had been holding ever since Loki asked me that question. This guy…!!

One minute, he was innocently relishing my shortcake, the next minute he managed to steal my slice like a little devil, and now he was acting like a playful flirt. There were just so many sides of Loki that would pop out of nowhere, casting their spells to draw me deeper in love with him…

I found myself smiling warmly while fishing out a napkin from our picnic basket to wipe the extra icing on his cheeks. “Loki, you got a bit of cake on your face,” I giggled.

He quickly grabbed my hand just as I finished cleaning his face, startling me enough to drop my napkin. He closed his eyes as he affectionately nuzzled my palm, purring like a cat at my touch. “Hehe, I love it when you touch my face, Alice~” He murmured.

I sighed, though I was still smiling. “Loki, I need my hand back...”

“Aw~ But your hand is so warm!”

The cheery smile encased on his lips was enough to win me over. How in the world could anyone be so cute?

                                         ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

I mean, even his carnivorous diet is like a cat. Or was it more like a child’s?

“Bleh… Yuck…”

I turned my attention away from reading to the sound of Loki’s gags. He was sticking his tongue at the green flowered vegetable stuck in his fork, clearly not wanting to eat the broccoli from lunch.

Seated in front of him was Harr, Loki’s guardian and mentor, and to say that he was unamused was an understatement. His one eye that wasn’t concealed behind a mask narrowed at the pouting boy. “Loki, you need to eat your vegetables. I’m not going to tell you twice,”

“But I hate them…” The pink-haired teen groaned with a frown, his heterochromatic eyes drooping at the sight of his plate, mostly clean except for the cursed green pieces. “And why did it have to be broccoli, Harr? You know that I hate those the most!”

“All the more reason why you need to eat them,” The wizard replied with a deadpan look. “Look, they really aren’t that bad, Loki. And you’ve got to eat them for nutrition,”

The younger magic-user refused to listen. “I already eat a lot of fish! And fish has loads of nutrients too. I’m full--Thank you for the meal!”

Loki was about to stand up and lift his plate to the sink before Harr’s eyes glowed red, his powerful magic forcing Loki back on the chair no matter how much he squirmed. “Hey! No fair, Harr! I thought you told me not to use magic for trivial matters!” Loki yelped indignantly.

“Eat your broccoli!”

“No!”

“Loki…!!”

As I sat on the sofa in their living room, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. From this angle, Harr really looks like a father trying to get his son to eat his veggies, though he really wasn’t making any progress on the matter.

At that moment, a cheeky idea popped into my head, cueing the ends of my lips to turn upwards and form a smile. After slowly placing my book on the coffee table, I trotted over to the dining table, where Loki was pouting and Harr was crossing his arms in frustration. “Still not eating your vegetables, Loki?” I asked with a short sigh.

He immediately brightened as soon as I got close to the table. “Alice! Tell Harr to let me go!” He cried for help like a child while Harr shook his head in disappointment.

“I was thinking that he would mature a little after meeting you,” The older wizard mused, pinching his nose bridge. “But it seems that his refusal to eat vegetables hasn’t changed at all,”

I laughed light-heartedly at his words. “It would seem so,” I agreed with a sheepish grin before turning back to the stubborn man who was glued to his chair, ready to enact my plan. If Loki won’t eat his veggies willingly… Maybe I should give him some incentive…

Leaning in close to Loki, I cupped my mouth and whispered to him in the sweetest voice I could muster. “What if I give you some kisses after you eat them, hm?”

The pout on his face instantly disappeared. As Loki slowly turned his head towards me, I could see that his cheeks had turned pink and his eyes were widened at my words, his mouth agape as he stared at me. Despite my heart pounding wildly in my chest, the sweet smile on my face didn’t falter as Loki blinked at me, seemingly shocked at what just happened.

There was a short silence in the room before the Cheshire Cat let out an audible gulp and turned back to his food. The frown on his face from before returned, though it was visibly fainter than earlier.

“ … Fine,” He huffed as he picked up his fork, this time actually picking up the pieces of broccoli and chewing them in his mouth. He didn’t gag or complain, and I grinned at the sight. Success!

On the opposite side of the table, Harr’s cedar-brown eyes widened in astonishment. “My goodness…” He muttered to himself as he slapped his hand onto his forehead.

                                         ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

Loki can get pretty possessive like a cat, too…

I hummed a little tune to myself as I packed some books into the trusty bag Seth gave me earlier. Sirius was right; Harr really did have a lot of cookbooks lying around his house and he wouldn’t hesitate to lend me them if I asked him about it. Though I could remember most of the dessert recipes that I used back in London, I figured out that it would do me some good if I learned how to make other dishes for meals. And considering how amazing Harr’s cooking was, it was only natural that I’d try to learn from him.

Beside me, Loki leaned against the armrest of the sofa, nodding his head to the song I was humming. “What song is that, Alice?” He asked inquisitively, tilting his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before… Did it come from the Land of Reason?”

I nodded. “I can’t remember the name of it, though,” I replied with a shrug as I zipped up my bag, lifting the straps around my head to rest on my shoulder. “I just remember listening to it a long time ago back in London,”

“London?”

“Ah, that is, the Land of Reason,” I explained with a smile as Loki’s eyes lit up. For a number of times now, he has asked me about my world, known as the Land of Reason to everyone in Cradle. A polar opposite to this wonderland that I’ve fallen into, the Land of Reason progressed and functioned on scientific logic, machinery and phenomena instead of magic. I wonder how I would ever explain how to use a telephone to anyone here, especially Loki.

Meanwhile, the man that I was just thinking about had his gaze trained on the bag slung across my shoulder. The shades of pink and yellow in his eyes shimmered like stars, and yet I could feel them piercing through me. The lack of response from the usually vocal Cheshire Cat made my heart worry.

“Loki?” I timidly asked, not realizing how soft my voice had become.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he stood up from the sofa and walked towards me like a predator catching his prey. As he advanced to my position, I could spot his eyebrows drooping in disappointment. The tense expression in his eyes reminded me of the day he casted a spell to force me into a deep sleep.

“You’re leaving… now?” He finally murmured in a low voice, upset that I was preparing myself to head back to the black army’s headquarters.

Oh boy, here we go again… 

“Is Loki stopping you from heading back home again?” Harr let out a long sigh in a tone mixed with embarrassment and disappointment as he stepped out his room, catching the sight of Loki staring down at me with pleading eyes.

I unfortunately had to nod in reply before turning my attention back to the pink-haired man before me. “Loki, I need to get back. You remember what I told you right? It’s gonna be Luka’s birthday soon and I need to help Ray and the others practice making a cake for him,” I explained in a matter-of-fact tone. I was already used to the many episodes of Loki trying to stop me from heading back to the other black army members, after all.

He turned his head slightly at the mention of Luka, his lips curving into an annoyed frown. “I don’t like that you have to go back to their headquarters all the time,” He complained as he reached for both of my hands, holding them tightly as if I would disappear if he let go. “I wish you could just stay here with me instead,”

I let out a short sigh. As possessive and dramatic as he was now, I had to admit that there was always a small sorrow in my heart each time we parted ways. There was always the promise of seeing him the next day, but there was also the miniscule yet present uncertainty that I couldn’t do so. It was a fear I could not deny no matter how hard I tried.

I looked up at Loki with a warm smile on my lips. “I’m sorry that I can’t stay today, Loki. But I promise I’ll come back tomorrow, and then we can go out on another date in Cradle-”

“But I still don’t like seeing you leave me,” He replied, seemingly unwavered by what I’ve said, the expression on his face barely changing. If anything, his grip on my hands only strengthened.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise-”

“But if you go, that means I won’t get to cuddle next to you tonight…”

His suddenly bold words caught me off-guard and I couldn’t stop the redness from crawling up my face. In fact, my cheeks weren’t red because of what Loki said; they got red because Harr was literally right there watching us!! There was no way to really stop his possessiveness, wasn’t there?

From the corner of my eye, I could see the wizard standing by the dining table with another disappointed expression on his face. “For the love of…” He mumbled, shaking his head. It seemed that as far as he was concerned, this routine of me getting won over by Loki’s charm was never going to end.

                                         ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

And he’s always demanding attention! If that part of him didn’t resemble a cat, then I don’t know what does!

“Hey, Alice~”

“... Alice, look at me~”

As tempted as I was, I managed to steel myself not to look at Loki, my focus not leaving the work in my hands for even a second. When he sneaked into my room earlier this afternoon, he took the liberty of lying on my bed for a little ‘cat-nap’. Now in the evening hours leading to dinnertime, he was up and clearly desperate for my attention.

… Actually, I take that back. The more I consider it, the more I realised that regardless of where we were, he always would be demanding my attention. It was petty, sure, but I couldn’t deny that I still love him for that.

Today, though, I couldn’t afford to be swayed by his pleas for attention. “Not now, Loki,” I proclaimed firmly. “I need to finish making this present for Edgar’s birthday tomorrow,” My mind floated back to a few days before when Loki had tried to stop me from going back to help Ray and the others make a birthday cake for Luka. Thankfully, Harr came to my rescue, convincing the ever clingy cat Loki to let go of me. Back then, I hopelessly fell victim to his boldness; I couldn’t afford to repeat that same mistake today.

… Huh…? Why… does my ear suddenly… hurt…?

I was so absorbed in my work that I had not noticed Loki’s stealthy advance towards me, him leaning over me as I sat on my work desk. As my attention was better tuned to his presence next to me, I could feel the short silky strands of his hair tickle my ears, accompanied by… something sharp?

It was only when his hands landed on my shoulders did my mind finally register what was going on. He… bit my ear… 

… Oh my god..!!!

“L-Loki?!” I involuntarily yelped as my whole body froze. Whatever was working on before now landed on the desk as my hands remained in the air, unmoving as an all-too-familiar warmth travelled up my cheeks, extending to the edge of my ears. I could practically feel the electricity coursing through my veins as his warm breath hit my skin like a piece of red-hot iron.

“Hm?” He whispered with a seductive smirk on his face, clearly ignoring the deep scarlet blush on my face. “What is it, Alice?” He continued in a somewhat innocent tone as he continued to nuzzle the back of my ear affectionately.

No matter how hard I tried, no words would come out of my mouth. All I could do was gasp as Loki’s slender fingers swept some of my hair away so that he could nuzzle my neck. I let out a high-pitched yelp at the warm sensation, my head tilting to the side as if it was second nature and my two hands automatically reaching out and searching for his, and he chuckled at the sight.

“You know, I really have to wonder…” His alluring voice returned as his hands finally met mine, lulling the sudden need that had culminated within me. “Why do you tend to think of other men while I’m here?”

“Do you need me to remind you of who you belong to?”

The heat from my face instantly spread across my entire being at the sound of his deeper voice. I couldn’t halt the quiet moans coming out of my mouth as Loki grazed his teeth against my neck, his tongue following after as he licked my skin. My heart is beating so fast… I barely registered the sensation of my chair being lifted slightly as I was spun around in midair, my whole body now facing my boyfriend.

In my half-lidded vision, I spotted a red and surprisingly seductive gleam in Loki’s eyes. He flashed his signature Cheshire grin as he raised his hand to my chin, keeping me focused on him. “I belong to you, Alice. That means that you belong to me too, right?” His grin widened as he pulled my face towards him, his lips capturing mine in a sweet kiss.

I melted into the sensation immediately, my arms wrapping around his neck as I leaned closer to him, closing my eyes to savour this feeling. Loki’s hands soon cupped my face as he tilted his head to deepen our kiss, his fingers framing my jaw so very gently, as if I was fragile porcelain. A few minutes passed before I felt Loki pull away from me, and I internally whined at the loss of his warmth against my lips. “Loki?” I asked quietly, surprised at how soft my voice was.

He just smiled at me, his heterochromatic eyes telling me that he was content. “I’m glad,” He said randomly as he interlocked his fingers with mine. The gesture, although sweet, confused me, and I blurted out my question before I could even consider its aftereffects. “Glad about what?”

He chuckled at me again as a cheerful smile found its way to his face. “I got your attention now, Alice~”

I blinked at the realization that he was right. Oh no… I fell for his charms again just like last time…

At this rate, I’ll never get any work done…!

                                         ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

… Then again… I suppose the same can be said for me, to some degree…

Loki found himself smiling widely at the little doll in his hands, her appearance looking so much like his Alice. Her long brown hair, her cute white dress, her pretty blue eyes…

The pink-haired wizard let out a small giggle. He made a mental note to thank Harr later for teaching him how to sew. Though it took him a long time to make this doll look like her without using magic (even when the urge to just flick his fingers at the doll was so tempting), Loki was still very pleased at the final result of his practice.

“Loki!!” A melodious voice rang through the air, cueing the man in question to quickly pocket the doll in his jacket before she noticed it. He couldn’t afford to spoil the surprise… not yet, anyway.

Instead, he waved at the chestnut-haired lady as she sauntered over, a picnic basket in her hands. “Sorry that I’m a little late. Were you waiting for long?” She bowed once, making Loki laugh.

“Not at all, Alice,” He shook his head politely as he reached for her free hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “By the way, you’re looking very cute, as always~”

A pink blush spread across her cheeks as her face shifted into a flustered expression. Loki’s heart warmed at the sight of Alice looking so embarrassed. Her honest reaction to everything was the cutest thing about her, after all.

So adorable… Loki mused to himself before lowering his voice as he spoke. “Hey, hey Alice. Before we go on our date, I have something to show you,”

She tilted her head at him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” He teased with a smirk, to which Alice logically raised an eyebrow at, but the serious look in his own eyes reassured her otherwise. Deciding to go along with his plan, she obliged. With her eyes closed, her now hypersensitive ears heard the sound of cloth being rubbed against, as if someone was searching through their pockets.

“Okay, you can open them now,” Loki’s voice brought her back to the present as she followed his words, her eyes now catching the sight of a quaint little doll resting in Loki’s hands. He was holding it with both of his hands, his fingers wrapping around the doll’s waist, right where the start of her navy blue skirt was.

Wait a minute… a navy blue skirt?

“This doll…” Alice blinked at the sight. “It looks like me…”

“That’s right!” Loki nodded excitedly. “Isn’t she adorable?” He continued, lifting the doll’s hand to imitate her saying hello.

Alice giggled at the gesture. “How did you make her, Loki? With magic?” She asked as Loki passed her the petite toy, her hands and eyes looking all over the doll and inspecting its quality and detail.

“Nope,” He replied with an unexpected answer, which cued Alice to gaze at him quizzically. “I made her from scratch,”

“From scratch?”

“Yep. She’s made from nothing but thread, cotton and cloth,”

“ … No magic?”

He grinned as if he was crossing his heart. “No magic at all,”

“Wow…!” Alice beamed at him, her eyes sparkling with awe. “That’s really impressive, Loki!”

The smile on her face was more than enough of a payment for his efforts. He could feel his heart soaring at the sight of her happiness. Oh how he’d love to capture that pretty look on her face forever…

… Oh, right.

“There’s a reason why I wanted to show you this doll, Alice,” Loki began, lowering his voice mysteriously. Alice turned to him quickly, curiosity in her gaze. “You see, the last time I came to your room, I noticed something,”

“You tend to keep a lot of dolls of me in your room, Alice,”

Alice’s sapphire eyes widened like a child would have if she was caught eating candy. “I-!!” She uttered a single word as her embarrassing side resurfaced. How… Didn’t she keep those dolls in her closet when Loki came over?

… Or did he find them by himself?

“I don’t know where you found so many dolls of me, though,” Loki mused, a playful tone in his voice as he continued his explanation. “I mean, I don’t mind you keeping dolls of me. In fact, I find it rather precious of you~”

Precious? The fact that she always cuddled a Loki toy to sleep everyday… was precious to him? Alice could not believe her ears. Had she fainted in embarrassment already? Was this just a dream?

Behind her back, she pressed a fingernail into her thumb, the stinging pain from it as real as the basket in her hands. Yep, definitely not a dream.

“It’s kind of unfair though,” The younger man pouted, a frown appearing on his face. “You have the chance to cuddle me to sleep every night, but I don’t…”

Did he just read her mind?

“So…” He said slowly, reaching out to the doll in Alice’s hands as he tenderly took the doll back, holding it in his two hands. The young magic-user then turned to the woman in front of him, a light pink blush across his cheeks and his gold-and-pink eyes shining in adoration and affection.

“You wouldn’t mind if I have a doll of you then, would you, Alice~?”

                                         ~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

Hm... How would you reply to him, Alice? :3

Thank you so much, maedayo, for blessing my day with Loki fan art. I desperately need more Loki content~♥

Also, the song that Alice was humming to in the third scenario was this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGmk_F3F0Lw

I’ve been listening to it the whole time I was writing this. It’s super sweet~ Also, I realise that some of its lyrics really REALLY fit Loki’s route. Like I want to make an animated video of it with Loki, ahhh-

Anyways, thank you for reading!

(P.S. time to start writing another Loki fanfic since maedayo just posted more art of him and Alice ahhhh-)

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 11

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some. 

Catch Up Here

Monday, December 23 

Two days before Christmas found Kat curled up on her couch watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and hugging a mug of peppermint hot chocolate in her hands. Her doorbell rang, causing her to pause the movie, getting up to answer the door. 

Pulling open the door, her eyes went wide seeing someone dressed up as a gingerbread man standing at her doorway.  “Are you Katherine Plumber?” 

Knowing this had Jack’s name written all over it, she slowly nodded. “I am. And you are?” 

Instead of answering her, the gingerbread broke out in song, singing “Holly Jolly Christmas” loudly, along with intricate dance moves and twirls. Part of Kat wanted to slam the door in its face, but a bigger part of her was secretly enjoying the singing gingerbread man. Once he finished, kneeling in front of her with his hands stretched out, she clapped for him. She paused, giving him a look. “Thank you for that absolute stunning performance.”

Pulling the gingerbread man’s hat off, she started laughing loudly seeing who was underneath. Giving her a dirty look, Albert shook his head. “Damn Jack for at least paying me to do this.” 

“Do you want to come in?” Kat asked, pushing her front door wider, allowing him to step inside. 

Albert was one of Jack’s friends that she absolutely adored - he went to college with them. Him and his fiance Finch were really good friends and they were often invited to game night at their house.  “So how much did Jack pay you to do that?” 

“You don’t want to know.” Albert shook his head, giving her a look. “Besides, he told me I had to bring this to you.” 

Holding out the green notebook, Kat took it from him with a grin. “Thank you and thank you for making my day with that song and dance.” 

“You’re welcome. Thank goodness you didn’t get any of that on film.” He grinned, putting the gingerbread man’s head back on. 

She grinned . . . little did he know that she had a Ring as a doorbell. She wouldn’t be sharing that knowledge, allowing the video to do all the talking when she shared it with Jack and Race. 

“Thanks again Albert.” She grinned, walking him to the door. “Have a great rest of your afternoon.” 

She watched him walk down the stairs before shutting the door behind her. Shaking her head, she leaned against her door, opening up the notebook. 

Happy 11th day of Christmas, Kat! 

Hope you enjoyed that performance Al put on for you. BTW, I want the footage from your Ring! 

I apologize that you’re getting the notebook late . . . . it took far too long to convince Albert to do that. I had to bring in the big guns of Finch, Race, AND Spot to get him to do it. But I hope that it made you smile. 

For today’s adventure you’re going to the tallest building in the city. Go climb your mountain, your adventures awaits . . . so get a move on!  Once you’re at the top, continue reading. 

Grabbing her warm hoodie and her coat, she grabbed her bag, tucking the notebook into it before heading out the door. She shook her head, thinking she should’ve grabbed a mug of something warm before hitting the streets. 

Stepping out of her apartment building, her eyes widened seeing the freshly fallen snow that fell overnight. At least six inches had fallen, creating a winter wonderland throughout the streets. Rubbing her hands together, she dug her gloves out, putting them on before heading towards the subway station. 

Ducking into the underground, a heater blows warm air at her before a coldness could seep into her bones.  Walking through the turnstile, she headed for the platform to wait.  She smiled hearing kids jumping and giggling as they too waited for the train to arrive.  With it being two days before Christmas, spirits were high and excitement palpable on the platform.

Skipping onto the train, she watched a little girl mimic her before taking a seat at the far end of the car.  Keeping her eye on the little girl, Kat watched her as she kept a hand on the handrail as she spun, twirling her dress, her infection giggling ringing loudly in the car.  Kat wiggled her fingers in the girl’s direction as her face lit up, eagerly shaking her hand back at Kat. 

Several stops went by before she got off the train, heading to the street level. She would never get tired of getting off the subway and seeing One World Trade Center standing in front of her. The first couple of times she saw it, she would never be ashamed to say that she cried. It was just that powerful and moving. 

Making her way to the building, she was relieved to see the area wasn’t that crowded.  She stopped at the waterfall pools to pay her respects before heading to the stunning tower.  

Walking into the lobby, she bought tickets to the Observation deck before joining the queue to the elevator.  A couple of other people were in front of her so they made quick work on getting them onto the elevator and up to the 102 floor. 

Stepping off the elevator, her eyes adjusted to the bright natural light from the big windows.  Finding an empty bench, she took a seat, taking in the scene of the big windows, the city laid out at her feet, with a 360 degree view. 

Opening the notebook, she found today’s entry before continuing to read. 

Welcome to the One World Trade Center Observation deck. It’s another favorite place of mine - there’s something about being so high in the air that you can see a full 360 degrees around you.  It’s a good place to think and draw when I’m feeling restless. 

Anyways, I wanted you to come here to look at the prettiness of the city from your perch above.  You have your stories about 9/11 just like I do but that’s not the purpose of today’s adventure. It’s just to appreciate the beauty surrounding you. 

So, spend some time reflecting on the beauty around you. Write down everything you see beautiful, no matter how little or big it is. 

Spending the next few minutes, she wrote down everything beautiful she had encountered in the last few weeks. The smile was permanent on her face as she relaxed with the sound of her pen scratching across the paper. 

She felt someone sit down at the other end of the bench but paid them no attention as she continued to write.  Clicking her pen, her eyes reread the things she wrote before moving onto Jack’s scrawl. 

I think one of the things that we all do is getting caught up in the little nuances of the day that we forget that there’s something beautiful in every day. There’s always something good in the messy world we live in. I often have to remind myself to stop and smell the roses - slow down and just enjoy the little things that are around me. 

Now, there’s a surprise for you today . . . . but it’s different from your usual surprises. In the exhibit hall, there’s a Christmas theme exhibit that you’ll want to check out. It’s actually really cool. In the exhibit, you’ll find your surprise. 

Closing the book, she reread the last paragraph, confused by Jack’s words. Knowing, not to question him, she tucked the notebook back in her bag before walking over to the exhibit hall. Walking up the ramp, her eyes widened seeing the whimsical artwork along the walls. There was a wintery scene painted with various creatures greeting her as she walked; a mix of digital artwork and paintings. 

At one point, there was a digital video that played. Watching it, she smiled, getting lost into the artwork that surrounded her. Continuing on her journey, she was stopped by a stunning painting of a woodland scene. The moon was in the corner, shedding light on the many birch trees in perfect lines.  She searched the painting for an artist's name, frowning when she didn’t see one. “Stunning painting, huh?” 

“It truly is.” She whispered, not taking her eyes off the work. “I was trying to find the artist’s name.” 

“The artist’s name is Jack Kelly.” A familiar voice said as she looked over at his shoulder at him. He had a big grin on his face as he stepped up to join her. “Surprise!” 

Her jaw dropped. “It’s stunning Jack, absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you.” He ducked his head, a blush on his cheek. “You kinda inspired it.”

Kat’s eyes furrowed, looking at her boyfriend. “How?” 

“A couple of weeks ago you were talking about going into the woods just to get away, needing somewhere to breath and escape. I went home after that and painted this.” Jack smiled. “I knew they were doing this exhibit and after the hospital mural, I was approached to submit something for this. Your idea of needing to escape and going to the woods was actually good because it fit perfectly in with this wonderland.” 

Slipping his hand in her, he squeezed it. “You’ve inspired more art of mine than you probably know. You’re a good muse.” 

She giggled, a blush crossing her face as she ducked her head.  “That’s good to know.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you which ones.” He grinned, tugging on her hand as they made their way through the exhibit. “Let’s finish walking through. I haven’t actually seen the rest yet.”

“This is pretty cool . . . do they do this every year?” Kat asked as they stopped to look at a few more paintings. 

Jack nodded. “They’ve done it the last few years. I came last year just to scope it out.” 

She grinned, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow as they continued their walk. Along the way, Jack pointed out little things that she wouldn’t normally see. She smiled as they finished walking through the exhibit. 

Nodding, she followed him on the elevator as they descended. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “You alright? Something is off about you but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“Just enjoying the Christmas feeling in the air.” He grinned. “You know it’s only two days until Christmas.” 

She giggled. “A little birdie told me that. My parents left this morning for California.” 

“Their loss and my family’s gain.” Jack shrugged, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Come on, let’s head out.” 

Leading her off the elevator, they walked out into the cooler night. Kat tugged on their linked hands, dragging him over to a bench. Sitting down, she shut her eyes, and just relaxed. “Pssst …. what are we doing?” 

Cracking open an eye, she looked at him. “You were the one that talked about taking time to enjoy the little things. So I’m doing what you said.” 

“Oh ok.” Jack grinned, reaching into his pocket to grab something before putting it on Kat’s lap. “While you’re doing that, I’m just going to make sure no one kidnaps you.” 

Feeling a weight on her lap, she opened her eyes to look down - a white box laid there. “What did you do, Kelly?”

“Me?” He asked, eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything. This is your surprise for the day.” 

Her eyes widened, picking up the much bigger box than usual. “It’s bigger than all the rest.” 

“Way to pick up on that Captain obvious.” Jack mumbled, as she reached over and back handed his shoulder. “Maybe you should open it and not hit me anymore.” 

Removing the lid, her eyes went wide seeing a bracelet inside. But she gasped as she recognized the contents on the bracelet. Attached to the bracelet were all the charms from the previous 10 days. Picking it up, she twirled it so she could see all of her little surprises. Looking up at Jack, her lips curled up in a smile. “It’s perfect, Jack. Thank you.” 

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his lips as he grinned. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“It’s a perfect representative of the last 11 days.” She grinned as he took it from her before attaching it to her wrist.   

“Perfect fit.” Jack twirled it so that all the charms hung from her wrist. 

Lacing her fingers with his, she gave them a squeeze. “Hey, I want to say thank you. You have completely turned around this holiday season for me. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He tugged her close, bending down and kissing her. “I hate it when you’re upset and angry and truth be told, I just wanted to do something that would make you smile. And you’ve got a family that you’ve created all on your own, outside of your physical family and they care just as much for you as you do for them.” 

Shaking her head, she looked down at their linked hands as tears crowded her eyes. “Thank you Jack.” 

“You’re welcome, Kat. I’d do anything to make you smile.” He kissed her. “Anything.” 

Standing up, he tugged her up into a standing position as she slipped her arm in the crook of his elbow.  “So I have a question for you?” 

Looking over at him as they walked, she raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

“Is there anything that you would change in the past eleven days?” He looked over at her, his lip between his teeth, as if he was nervous about something.

Taking a few moments to think back on the eleven days, she twitched her mouth as she thought. Jack chuckled at her face watching her. 

“Honestly, I don’t think so. You wrote so elegantly in that journal and made me think about a lot of things. You were constantly surprising me and bringing up the little details of our relationship that, honestly, I had forgotten about. It was a good trip down memory lane.” Kat grinned, shrugging. “But to answer your question, I don’t think there’s anything that I’d change.” 

Nodding, Jack grinned. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” 

“I mean . . .” Kat started, Jack quickly shaking his head. 

“You had your chance to speak your mind and you didn’t.” Jack interrupted, sticking his tongue out at her. 

Her eyes lit up as an idea hit her. “Wait, I have one thing.” 

Jack gave her a look, before nodding. “What’s that?” 

“Another favorite look of mine.” Kat’s eyes lit up and truth be told, Jack would do anything to see her face light up like that again. 

Biting his lip, he thought back on the past 5 years. “Another look . . . hmmmm.” 

“Trying to figure out which one to tell me about or the one that’s less scandalous.” Kat grinned, as they stopped at a crosswalk. 

Jack threw his head back, shaking his head. “No trying to figure out which ones I love more.” 

Crossing the street, they continued to lazily walk down the street, with no real destination in mind. Kat tilted her head towards Jack. “Got one?” 

“This outfit was the outfit you were wearing when I realized that I loved you.” Jack grinned. “We met in October and this outfit was one you wore in the middle of November. Remember when we went to clean up the woods?” 

Kat’s eyes went wide. They had volunteered with a bunch of other kids in their dorms to clean up the ravines behind their campus. “I was in ratty jeans and an old hoodie. That’s one of your favorite looks of mine?” 

“Yes, that’s one of my favorites. You had your hair tied up in a ponytail but by the end of the day, your hair was everywhere from walking in the woods. You kept telling me that you were a mess but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.” Jack grinned, biting his lip. “You were so drop dead sexy and you didn’t even know it.” 

A blush crossed her cheeks, as she looked over at him. “Well if I knew that was going to be in your top ten looks, I would’ve cared a bit more.” 

“The thing is, if you had known, it probably wouldn’t be in my list.” Jack quipped back grinning. “Besides, that was the first time that it hit me that I was actually in love with you.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “So how long after that did you tell me?” 

“I think like a week.” Jack chuckled. “But everyone knew I was gone over you. I am surprised that no one spilled the beans.”

Kat laughed. “Much like the last eleven days.”

“Oh I told them I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them and bury their body if they spoke a word about the last eleven days with you.” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

She threw her head back and belly laughed. “Jack Kelly, that’s awful.” 

“I wanted to make sure those idiots didn’t ruin the surprise for you.” He defended his actions. “But there’s more to come - you’ve got one more day left.” 

Her eyes lit up at that. “Any hints?” 

“Maybe . . . . do you want to know?” Jack asked, as they stepped onto her street. 

Biting her lip, she shrugged. “If it’s going to ruin anything, no I don’t want to know. If it’s not, then sure.” 

“We’re going to one of your favorite holiday places tomorrow.” Jack grinned. “That’s your clue, do with it what you will.” 

Filing the piece of knowledge away for later, she nodded. “I’m really looking forward to it. But you know this blows anything that I got you out of the water, right?” 

“It’s not a competition, Kat.” He raised his eyebrows. “But I wouldn’t sell yourself short.” 

She paused in her step, causing her arm to be ripped from the crook of his arm. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Not uh, Kat. You’re not getting anymore from me.” He chuckled, stopping at the bottom of her apartment stairs. Giving her a look, he held out his hand. “Now I believe you have something that belongs to me.” 

Digging in her bag, she grabbed the notebook, handing it over to him. “Thank you. Be ready by eight tomorrow morning and dress warmly.” 

“Eight is awfully early, Jack.” She raised an eyebrow. 

He chuckled. “Just be ready. I’ll bring coffee and I’ll see you then. I love you.” 

Pushing onto her tiptoes, she leaned forward giving him a kiss. “I love you too and I’ll be ready.”

“Have a good night, Kat. See you in the morning.”  He stole one more kiss before he headed down the street, back to his own apartment. She watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore. Shaking her head, she let her mind reflect back on the past few hours and just laughed. Anytime she spent with Jack would never, ever be bored, that’s for sure. 

[fanfic-inator795]

Once Rise sucks me back in on the seventh, I plan on drawing that Hippoworm wedding pic (sorry about the wait btw), so if you wanted to elaborate on that (either the mutant or Repo’s Seven AU version of their wedding) I would like to see if I could work any headcanons in, or at least have them in mind while I’m drawing?

Awww, thank you! ^v^ And no worries! I totally get kinda losing interest in a project for a bit cause of various things, and your art is totally worth the wait! ^v^

Heh, I’m not sure how many of these you can fit into a drawing, and it’s totally fine if you can’t fit them in, I know I’m gonna love your drawing no matter what! ^v^ 

But I’m gonna list out as much as I can just cause I love gushing about/thinking about fictional weddings (if only because a. I love my OTPs and I wanna see them happy and b. there’s a good chance I’ll never get married, and if I do it’ll most likely be a quick courthouse thing, so this is my outlet. Apologies in advance if this gets kinda long, lol). Anyway:

Mutant:

For obvious reasons, they couldn’t go all out, but they did as much as they could, having a small ceremony in Central Park at night with the reception being at an empty warehouse down at the docks (since their apartment would be WAYYYY too small, even if there’s less than a dozen people attending their wedding.)

The ELoM attend (mostly for the free food, but also because hey, it’s a sweet occasion and despite their villainy, they aren’t heartless.)

Meatsweats even offers to bring the cake, and Warren and Hypno agree since it’s the one dish he can’t put mutant meat in. Todd officiates so who knows if it’s completely legal but whatever, it’s a real wedding to them at least and that’s all that matters. They also make sure to record their wedding so they can watch it over and over

Warren was a bit of a groomzilla, because he loves Hypno so much and just wants everything to be right and perfect. He never takes it out on Hypno, thankfully, but everyone else kinda has to keep their distance until he’s able to chill tf out

Hypno makes all the flowers for the ceremony himself through his magic. LOTS of roses - mainly pink, purple and yellow with red at the tips (which, of course, symbolize friendship turning into love)

They walk down the aisle together, Warren on Hypno’s shoulder and the two of them holding hands (er, finger).

Hypno’s vows are so dang sappy and romantic that it takes Warren a few minutes to calm himself down enough to say his own vows. Warren also includes a bit of Maori in his vows as a nod to his husband’s culture. It’s a bit broken, but the message can still be understood and Hypno is still touched by the gesture

At the reception and after the first dance, Warren sings a love song to Hypno, wanting to give Hypno a little something extra since their dancing is really just Hypno swaying back and forth with Warren in his hands, and Hypno absolutely loves it, practically falling in love with him all over again on the spot.

Not that it matters really cause of the mutant situation, but Hypno takes Warren’s last name, hyphenating his own and becoming Mezmer-Ron “Hypnopotamus” Patel-Stone.

...idk if they’d actually do this but the idea is kinda funny to me so I’m mentioning it here: A couple weeks later, they stage another wedding and invite the Turtles to it, turning it into an elaborate trap.

“I can’t believe it. You would pretend to get married and fake a whole wedding just to try and capture us?!”

“Oh no no, the marriage is legitimate. We had our actually wedding at the start of the month.” “Technically this is our honeymoon.” *the two share a kiss* “We just thought that since we had all this leftover wedding stuff, well, two birds with one stone and all that.” “Just consider it a wedding present to us, since getting you four out of the way for good really would make my happiest day even happier!”

Of course the Turtles escape and Warren and Hypno are defeated, but they quickly shrug it off. It was worth a shot, and at least they still have each other.

Repo’s Seven AU:

While they may be human, they still can’t afford a HUGE ceremony, but it’s still a lovely one. They’re able to rent out a nice dining hall, at least.

Warren’s parents and work friends come, and while Ron’s able to invite friends as well, his mother and a couple of his relatives are unable to attend since they’re all the way in New Zealand. It’s a bit of an emotional hurtle that Ron has to get over, but at the very least his mother is able to send her love and they’re able to send her video and photos in return

I could see Ron wearing a sharp looking black suit with a purple tie while Warren wears a very handsome baby-blue suit with a white tie

Maori songs and vows are incorporated into the ceremony

Again, Warren takes a moment to sing a love song to Ron during the reception, because I love that idea too much for it to only exist in one universe

The two pretty much spent all they could on their wedding and couldn’t afford a honeymoon at all, but they didn’t mind. After the reception, they just went back to their apartment and spent the rest of the night together. Talking, cuddling, kissing, a bit more singing on Warren’s part since he got a bit tipsy lol, lots of expressions of love since it is their wedding night after all, and eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

Both were admittedly disappointed that they couldn’t take a trip, but after such a perfect wedding night, they couldn’t really be disappointed anymore and just enjoyed their long weekend.

After the events of Repo’s Seven/they’ve become secret millionaires and after they’ve moved out to California and settled down some (Warren getting a new newscaster job, Ron getting a couple nice breaks as he continued working towards his dream career as a professional stage magician, getting a house, etc.) the two decide to have another wedding ceremony and are able to renew their vows in Ron’s New Zealand hometown.

Granted, even with all the money they have now, they don’t go insane with it or anything, but they are still able to treat themselves and have elements of their dream wedding

This includes doves being released when they have their kiss (Hypno’s idea), lots of gold incorporated into the decor (Warren’s idea), and an actual band for the reception (both of their ideas). Stuff like that, where it’s a bit of a splurge but it’s not like they’re burning money on stupid or unnecessary stuff

So yeah, these are just my ideas, and I’d honestly love to hear a fellow Hippoworm fan’s ideas, since I’m sure yours differ at least a little from mine, and like I said, I just love talking about fictional weddings ^v^

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.III

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.II - ch.IV

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Drenched and wet thanks to the rain and thunderstorm, Dipper entered the Temple of the Gods in the middle of the night for some privacy. He was immediately faced with a giant statue of someone who was more of a fable to him than a belief: Ruler of the Gods and god of Intelligence and Ingenuity, the six-fingered immortal Stanford.

With his large stature on a throne fit for a king, his square chin, flowing toga, and stern look, Dipper felt a little intimidated by the ruler of the gods. He entered the temple quietly and moved his focus to the paintings and vases on both the left and right walls. Stories and legends were told and Dipper happily followed the fables down a hall, on the right of the giant statue, and into a huge room full of more statues and paintings and vases.

“Wow,” He breathed, his voice echoed, and he moved to the center of the room and rested on his knees. Got to start somewhere, right? “I pray my pleas be heard in this place.” Dipper prayed. “Please, someone tell me who I am, where I belong.”

“Wow, look at you!” A cheerful voice rang, making Dipper jump to his feet and look around wildly. “You look just like me! We’re like twins! Oh, wait.” And then there was laughter.

“Hello?” The twelve-year-old boy called. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” The voice said, but Dipper still had no clue where it was coming from. “Hi! I’m Mabel! I’m a muse! Well, muse in training. Still working some stuff out, but so are you! Go figure!”

“A muse?” Dipper repeated. “A goddess of the arts?”

“You got it!”

“So… where are you?”

“Try looking down at the art, genius.” The voice giggled and he looked down at a vase with a girl his age waving at him. The painting on the vase was waving at him. “Hi!”

Dipper yelled and fell on his feet, scooting away. “What the…?!”

“What, never seen a vase before?” Mabel giggled and twirled around. “Pretty cool, right? Hold on, let me find something bigger to work with, I’m cramped in here.”

“I-I-I don’t understand.” Dipper scurried to his feet and watched Mabel’s painted form move from one vase to another. “Y-Y-You said… D-Do you know who I am?”

“Course I do!” Mabel said from a skinny vase, then the tile floor, then a painted pillar, still finding a comfortable place to talk. “Well, I only learned about you a few weeks ago, but I always knew something fishy was going on. It’s pretty sad, no wonder Grunkle Ford didn’t wanna talk about it, but now you’re old enough to know the truth and I think I can help you!”

On a painting the same size as Dipper, the girl appeared and popped her back and twirled, feeling her new space. “Ah, much better. Hi! Still kinda scared?” She asked kindly, though she was bouncing and giggling.

Dipper smiled. Mabel the Muse did look a lot like him. Same eyes, same button nose, same hair. The only difference really was the fact that one was male and one was female. Dipper bet that if Mabel cut her hair to match his they would be identical. “No, not really.”

Mabel calmed down a little and said sincerely, “Glad to hear that, brother.”

“Brother?!” Dipper gasped and stared at her with wide eyes. “I… I have… I’m…”

“Yup!” Mabel cheered from inside the painting. “Surprise! You got a twin! Now tell me EVERYTHING! What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite animal? Do you like sports? Do you wanna be my friend?!” She asked all quickly.

“Now, hold on, hold on.” Dipper said, trying to piece this together. “If… If you’re my sister, that would make me…”

“A god.”

“A god… A GOD?!”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted answers, Dip-Dip.” Mabel said with a shrug. “BTW, Dipper is a way better name than Mason, good choice.”

“Uh, thanks.” Dipper raised an eyebrow. “How do I know it’s true? I mean… I’m not a god.”

“Well, okay. No, you’re not. But only cuz someone stole you from us and turned you mortal. See, that’s why you’re down on Earth and not up here with us.”

Dipper shook his head. “I’m sorry, but… but this doesn’t make sense.”

Mabel giggled and gave him her Skepticals. “C’mon, bro-bro, ever wondered why you’re super strong and super smart? Ever wondered where you got your necklace?” And Mabel pulled out her’s from around her neck and showed him her name and symbol.

Dipper stared, slowly pulling his matching one out and looking at it. This was crazy. This was stupid. There was no way Dipper was a god, had a family that actually wanted him, but… but…

Mabel had no real gain as to lying to him, not that Dipper saw. Maybe he was stupid for buying it, but just this once Dipper wanted to feel like he belonged somewhere. So he took in a deep breath and said shakingly, “I… I think I believe you.”

Mabel smiled and then gasped. “Oh! I forgot! I have something for you.” She reached behind her back and pulled out a book, a navy blue journal with a golden forest on it, filled with beautiful pinetrees. “This is yours. Grunkle Ford kept it safe for you.” And the painting pushed it through and Dipper was shocked when a real-life journal was being held out to him.

He took it and smiled down at that beautiful cover. A twinge of remembrance came through him, but he didn’t dare believe it.

“Uncle Fiddleford says Grunkle Ford gave you that when we were born. And he gave me this music box.” Mabel pulled the box out and wind it to hear the music. She hummed and asked, “Isn’t it pretty?”

Dipper bit his lip. Okay he definitely remembered that lullaby. “I remember…” He whispered to himself, and then asked his sister, “Wait, Grunkle Ford? Isn’t y-y-your great-uncle…?”

“Stanford, yeah.” Mabel said proudly with a grin. “He’s your grunkle, too! He’s the best! He misses you, like a lot, since you can’t live on Olympus with us. He tries not to show it, but I can tell.”

Dipper sighed. This was great, he had a family, but what was the point if he couldn’t be with them. “And you guys can’t do anything?”

“We can’t,” Mabel answered with a grin. “But you can!”

“I can?” Dipper repeated, allowing himself to believe it. The evidence was overwhelming. “What is it? I’ll do anything to have a family again! Name it and it’s half-done!”

“If you can become a true hero on Earth then your godhood will come back!” Mabel cheered excitedly.

“Okay, great!” Dipper replied. “Uh… How do I do that?”

Mabel’s face suddenly dropped. “You know what, I have no idea.”

“Mabel!”

“Well, hey! I’m not the god of all-knowing, am I?” She laughed, then gave the matter some serious thought. “I heard a rumor that there was a Trainer of Heroes on an island… Crete? No, Paros. A Trainer of Heroes on Paros. He should be able to help you.”

“Got it!” Dipper punched the air and said proudly, “I can do it! I’ll become a true hero so I can come home!”

“That’s the spirit!” Mabel cheered. “I know you can do it! Go on out there!”

Dipper started to run out of the room, but he stopped at the doorway and turned, looking at his long-lost sister gloomily. “I… I don’t wanna say goodbye.”

“Aw, Dipper,” Mabel sighed happily and pointed to the journal in his hands. “Remember, I’m a muse! If you wanna talk to me, just draw a picture or create something in your book and I’ll be there.”

“Can’t I beseech you? Can’t you come see me?” Diaper asked; he had been taught that gods can pretty much do whatever they wanted.

“Believe me, I’d love to.” Mabel huffed and blew some loose hair out of her eyes. “Grunkle Ford won’t let me leave Olympus; he’s convinced he’ll lose me, too.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t worry!” Mabel encouraged. “I know you can do it! I believe… oh crud!” And she was gone. She must have been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.

Dipper laughed and hurried out of the temple and was on his way for Paros.

~~~~~~~~~~

Out at sea, Dipper looked for a way to the island. Though he was super strong, he doubted he was strong enough to swim all that way. No, he would probably have to wait for a ship to come by and to offer work in exchange for a ride. The boy walked alongside the same as seagulls screeched above him, when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

At the mouth of a small cave, a sail flew in the breeze. Dipper grinned and grabbed some old rope and began to pull. Up from the dark cave and the damp sand was an old, busted sailboat with its name scratched out by a sword. Dipper grinned at the sailboat and examined it, trying to find a hole or a deficiency, but found none. Why would someone leave a perfectly good boat?

Dipper pulled the boat up onto the water and climbed on. He was beyond pleased to find it floated and he sailed onward for his goal.

After a few hours of peaceful sailing, Dipper came across a rocky island covered in pinetrees and fog. It was cold and unwelcoming, but the kind of place a Trainer of Heroes would swell, to test the bravery of hopeful young trespassers. Dipper quickly docked the sailboat and began to explore, a little surprised to find a triangular house on the top of a small hill, right outside the woods and a few safe feet away from the sea. The boy decided to try his luck there, but as he approached, he was bewildered to see a large yellow and red sign that seemed to shine through the fog.

“Mystery Shack?” Dipper read out-loud to himself. “What the heck is a Mystery Shack?”

The dethroned god opened the door labeled the main entrance and awed at the room filled with statues, but not of gods and goddesses or even humans. Of some of the weirdest monsters and frightening creatures the boy had ever seen. Dipper, oddly enough, was intrigued and excitedly entered.

“Wow, check all of this stuff out!” He gasped. “A six-pack-a-lope, a Gremloblin, and is that an opposite sphinx with a head of a lion but the body of a human?” Dipper paused at the more normal looking statue in the room.

An old man with his long gray hair kept back with a ribbon bore metal plates on his shoulders and a cape with his tall sandals, leather-padded skirt, and puffy shirt. Dipper peered at it closer, wondering why something so normal was among the abnormal, making it the most abnormal thing here. He reached to touch the statue, but he suddenly slapped him and growled, “Hands off the merchandise!”

Dipper screamed like a little girl, cleared his throat, and tried to scream a little more manly, all the while the old man stepped down from his tiny stool and dusted himself off, his tie red and his eyes a warm, sparkling brown, his snooze a strange orange color and his cloak was red, as well.

“Ah, the old mistaken-for-a-grotesque-lifeless-statue gag! Works every time! Welcome to the Mystery Shack, kid! Got any gold? If you throw some into this Sack of Mystery, I’ll give you a tour of the greatest, creepiest, deadliest creatures known to Greece!”

“Uh, no thanks.” Dipper said as he lightly shoved the Sack of Mystery out from under his nose. “Listen, you know where I can find a Trainer of Heroes?”

“Sorry, no one’s on this island but me.” The old man grunted. “So either pay to look at Snake-Haired Lady or beat it.”

“Come on, you sure no one else is here?”

“Listen, knucklehead, I’ve been here longer than you’ve been alive.” The guy growled as he walked towards the Employee Only door. “There ain’t no Trainer of Heroes here. Do yourself a favor and try Sparta, I hear it’s nice this time of year. Now scram before I find a big three-headed dog to chew you up and spit you out.” And the grumpy old man was gone.

Dipper rolled his eyes in annoyance. There were only two possibilities: either Mabel, a muse and probably the sweetest person Dipper had ever met, was lying, or a creepy old conman was lying, so Dipper decided that he wasn’t leaving the island until he found the Trainer of Heroes and he decided to investigate.

This place was filled with things heroes might fight, so maybe there was an exhibit full of heroes, and maybe there would be some information as to who trained them. So Dipper looked around and saw a doorway that had a big messy sign that read “Closed For Remodeling.” But a good inch of dust was on the door. Another lie?

Dipper turned the knob, but it was locked. He turned it again, his super strength coming into play, and he accidentally broke the handle off. Oops, at least the door was unlocked. Dipper let it swing open and he was delighted to find a big room filled to the brim with artifacts and old relics from past heroes. The boy slowly walked in, unaware of the log of wood over his head, and he bumped into it.

“Hey, HEY!” A loud voice rang and the old man was back, this time only in boxers, not even wearing a top to cover his round, hairy chest, and he growled, “Watch it, that was part of the mast of the Argo!”

“No way!” Dipper gasped as the old man shoved him out of the way angrily and moved into the room. “The Argo?”

“HA! Who you think taught Jason how to sail? Noah?!” The old man laughed harshly as he walked past paintings and vases. “I trained all those would-be heroes. Odysseus, Perseus, Theseus, a lot of -euses. And every single one of those knuckleheads managed to screw up! But then, oh boy. There was that Achilles guy. Now there was a guy who had it all! The build, the speed, he could not only throw a punch but take it and keep on coming for more! BUT THAT STUPID HEEL OF HIS! Barely gets nicked there once, and he’s done and out of the count.”

Dipper blinked a few times, letting this story sink in. “Y-You?! You’re the Trainer of Heroes?!”

The old man sighed tiredly and leaned against a wall. “Call me Stan, kid.”

“Listen, I need your help!” The boy said and hurried to him. “I wanna become a hero, a true hero! Please, teach me!”

Stan snorted. “Haven’t you been listening to me, boy? There are no trainers on this island.”

“C’mon, please!” Dipper begged. “I have to do this. Haven’t you ever had a dream? Or just wanted something so badly you’d do anything?”

Stan looked down at the boy kind of weird for a moment or two, but then looked away, his eyes down like his hopes. “Yeah, I had a dream once. That I was gonna train the greatest hero there ever was. So great, the gods would hang a picture of him in the stars.” But Stan shook his head, like a dog clearing water out of its ears. “I ain’t training no more. Guy can only take so much disappointment, you know?”

“Stan, please, I can do it.” Dipper pleaded. “I have to! If I don’t, I’ll never be with my twin sister.”

That made Stan’s eyes flicker to the boy, trying to detect a lie. “You got a sister?”

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed. “Her name’s Mabel. I only talked to her for five minutes my whole life, but she’s amazing. She and my Great-Uncle Stanford, too, I guess, are the only family I’ve ever known, and I’ll never be with them until I can become a true hero and get my godhood back.”

Stan snorted and held his breath. Dipper looked at him and then scowled. Was this jerk trying to not laugh? “H-Hold it, kid. Stanford, Ruler of the Gods and all that and a bucket of grapes, is your uncle, right?”

“That’s what Mabel told me.” Dipper said. “She’s a muse. Well, okay, a muse in training, but…”

Stan was covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh, but he was failing miserably. “St-Stanford? The big guy?! He’s your UNCLE?! Haha!” Stan beat his fist against the wall a few times as he howled with laughter. “Mr. Lightning Bolt! Haha! P-Poindexter and Poindexter Junior! AH, HAHA! ‘Read me a book, would ya, Gwunkle?’ HAHA! Th-Then Sixer goes, ‘Once upon a time…’ AH, HAHAHA!” Stan was wiping tears from his eyes at this point as he laughed and held his ribs, down on his knees.

“It’s true!” Dipper yelled and stomped a foot in anger, his face red.

“Oh, please!” Stan growled and stood up as he cleared his throat. “If that genius really is your family, why hasn’t he sent you here sooner, eh? You think that big jerk cares about family, or that any gods care about family for that matter? Take my word, kid, they don’t.”

Dipper shook his head. “Well, Mabel does. She wants to help me get home, so she sent me here. I’m gonna be a true hero and I’ll work as hard as I can to get there, and I’m gonna see her and be with my family.”

Stan crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him. “You’re really willing to sacrifice everything you got for some dumb sibling?”

Dipper glared back and nodded.

A slow, slightly-creepy grin grew on the wrinkly face until it ranged from ear-to-ear. “That’s what I wanna hear! Okay! I’ll do it!”

“Wait, what?”

“You wanna be a hero that bad? Fine, I’ll train you.” Stan said and led the way out of the door and through the museum for the outdoors. “I’m giving you one shot to prove to me you can take it, so show me whatcha got. Anything.”

Dipper grinned and hurried to a nearby tree that looked like it was dying. “Watch this!” He grabbed it like he was hugging it, pulled, and with very little effort the boy yanked it out of the ground and threw it into the ocean, where it splashed far out of eye-sight.

“HOLY HERA!” Stan yelled with a grin and slapped his forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak, listen up, here’s the deal. You’re a scrawny little twerp who could use a good slap from puberty, but lemme tell you, you got potential. You’re stubborn and crazy strong and that’s good enough for me, so here’s what’s gonna go down. I’ll train you, but fair warning: this’ll be the hardest thing you’ll ever do ever. I ain’t gonna be soft with you. I’m talking waking up before dawn and not falling asleep well past sundown. I’m talking potential broken bones and internal bleeding if you fail courses. You might even wish that blasted Underworld will come and getcha already. But if you can handle my training, you can handle anything. If you’re up to it, your training starts right now. Oh, and you’ll have to work for me in exchange for a bed and some food, got it?”

“Deal!” Dipper said and shook his hand without a second’s hesitation. “I’ll literally do anything you want.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that, kid.” Stan smirked and threw a broom into his hands. “First task, clean the museum. If I see a single speck of dust you’re going without dinner tonight. Now get to work.”

Stan walked back into the Mystery Shack, disappearing behind the Employee Only door again, but the moment he was safe from hiding, he held his face in his hands and swore under his breath. “Damn you, Sixer, you really made me miss the birth of my own niece and nephew? Fuck you.”

[touchingoldmagic]

Comic Review

Today Issue Two landed! I liked most of this issue more than I liked Issue One, but I'm kinda biased because Ray is my favorite...

Here's my review of the issue. As always, under the cut is all teh spoilers, so venture at your own risk.

With Issue Two, the comic cements its feel of a collection of snippets, rather than one solid storyline. Ray's issue isn't really any sort of continuation of the story we were being told in Winston's issue. (Poe is safe!) It's still following the plot of the guys being interviewed for a book, but the interviews jump around to different subjects.

It makes sense, really. With the new movie opening soon, IDW no doubt wanted a storyline that new readers could jump in without worrying about all the convoluted plots and comic-only characters that make up the IDW canon so far. Year One is a great jumping in point for new readers, since it only concerns itself with the first movie. And in fact, anyone could pick up Issue 2 without having read Issue 1 first, and that will probably be true of #3 and #4 as well.

Just like with Issue One, we begin the story with a page of interviews between movie characters and Rebecca, the writer preparing to write a book about the GB's.

I laughed so hard at Dana here.

I kinda feel, though, that we didn't need more of these interviews? It was a good set-up to start the mini-series off and establish that these are interviews between characters, but if it's going to be the first page or two of all four issues, that's a lot of pages we could have used for actual story.

On the other hand, it sets up for some good jokes. One of Peter's students drops a reference to Animal House, the first movie Harold Ramis ever wrote. That cracked me up.

Even more so than with Winston's issue, Ray's issue feels like a bunch of brief reaction scenes, reflecting on things that were mentioned in the movie. The next page has Ray talking to Rebecca about witnessing a mass sponge migration, which of course is a line from the movie.

It's interesting that the comic writers took a different twist on the line than I think most do. While to me it seems that Ray is implying to Peter in the movie that the sponges had some sort of paranormal reason for moving, here in the comic Ray's explanation to Rebecca is more like he was just using his observation of the sponges to explain how he's fascinated with things in life/nature that have no known explanation.

Rebecca isn't interested and asks him instead how he met Egon and Peter. That leads to the next two pages, which is a flashback to Peter introducing Ray to Egon (again, this is just a reference to a line in the movie, where Peter says he introduced the two of them).

Okay but this is HILARIOUS and it's my favorite part of the issue. Because Egon, Peter, and Ray HAVE 70's HAIR. It's big and has volume and is AMAZING. I'm in love. (Also Egon is wearing a 4th Doctor scarf and I am also in love with that.) Also it's snowing and the art is just so pretty!

To be honest, though, the scene with them meeting felt a little bland to me. But I don't think that's a fault of the comic. I've read a lot of GB fanfics, and many fic authors have done their own version of the "meeting in college" scene. So I've just seen it so many times already, in a way. This one didn't stand out, it felt like any fanfic I've read before. (That's not an insult to the comic, I've read a lot of really awesome GB fanfics.)

Although I do admit I got a chuckle out of the dialog. Egon says he met Peter in a woman's studies class, due to a scheduling mistake, and Peter convinced him to stay in it to learn to be more comfortable with people. (Of course, the joke is that Peter would only take a women's studies class to meet woman.)

Great lines: Rebecca: Though they glossed over where you got the nuclear material for your proton packs... Ray: Uh, we actually had that left over from a previously approved experiment.

So then after the flashback we jump to Ray's recounting of the library situation. There's a few pages of Dan re-drawing screenshots directly from the library scene, including where the ghost transforms. I don't know why, but this recounting didn't bother me as much as it did with Winston's issue, even though there's more of it here than in Issue One. Maybe it's because Ray's my fave character, so I'm enjoying it more, or maybe it's just more obvious that this issue is more of a "clip show" than Winston's was. Either way, I'm still enjoying it.

Ray is about to turn the interview onto another topic, but Rebecca asks him if they ever went back to deal with the librarian ghost. We jump to another flashback, a point where Winston is already with the team. The library administrator shows up at the firehouse and asks for their help, saying the ghost is getting worse. Ray agrees to resolve the issue for free considering their history with the library. Peter: You didn't even negotiate, Ray. Ray: I didn't? Wow. Amazing how annoying that is, isn't it? Winston: Do I even want to know what they're fighting about? Egon: I usually find it's better to not.

The scene that follows is, I think, a loving homage to the GB Video Game, which has a whole level of the guys trying to bust the librarian ghost. We get a lot of references to the game: the ghost runs off and hides, a bunch of books become flying creatures that try to attack the guys, and the ghost's name is Eleanor Twitty.

(Interesting to note, I think there's also an easter egg reference to Afterlife in this scene. Winston asks if they have something like a duck call, that would bring the ghosts to them. Egon says they never needed one before. We know from the Afterlife toys that a similar invention, the Ghost Whistle, will be a part of the new movie.)

So they don't want to just start blasting because the books in the library are irreplaceable. This is like the rare instance where the guys are really concerned with collateral damage. It's refreshing! Especially since it's books, which are near and dear to my own heart.

Ray thinks to hold up a rare one-of-a-kind book and threatens to blast it to bits if the ghost doesn't come forward (though later he tells Rebecca he was just lying and that wasn't what he was holding).

It works and the ghost appears, and they snag and trap her, leaving the library a mess but mostly undamaged.

Peter: -to the trap- All you had to do was make polite conversation a few months back, this whole thing could've gone a whole different way. Winston: I don't think you need to taunt them when they're trapped, man. Peter: Sure you do! Ghosts have ears everywhere. This'll strike fear in their hearts.

The last page wraps up the interview. Ray tells Rebecca he was glad they didn't damage the library books, and that the administrator sold him some of the library's occult collection. He thinks about opening an occult library of his own someday, and Rebecca says he should make it a bookstore instead. This, of course, being another reference, this time to the second movie.

(Btw, Ray wore a bowtie during this interview and it's super adorable.)

So basically everything in this issue was just extrapolating on different scenes from the movie, but I still really liked it. It felt like Issue One covered Winston's feelings a little more than this issue delved into Ray's, but I liked the little interactions between Ray and Peter, and Ray meeting Egon. I wish we had more of that.

Next issue is Peter's issue, and I'm curious how much Dana is going to be a part of it! He has her photo hanging in his locker in this issue, which is really cute but weirdly high-school-ish. Somehow, that fits Peter lol.

[proherostories]

A Dragon for a Hotblooded Blond

AO3 LINK

WC - 1648

Archive Warnings - Rated T & No Archive Warnings apply. 

Pairing - BakuKiri/Poprocks

Summary -  After chaperoning his drunk friends the week prior, Bakugo decides to go back to the tattoo parlor they'd gone to all because a redhead caught his eye.

Notes - Red eyes don't exist in real life [sadly] so the use of a) contacts and b) tricks of the light were implemented

Written for "#writersmonth2020" from THIS POST

Day 1 Prompt = tattoo artist/flower shop AU

BTW - Never written Bakugo before so plz be gentle DX

To say Kirishima was surprised to see the hotblooded blond from last weekend was a severe understatement. 

He’d come in with a rowdy group of drunks, and while he had appeared to be the most sober of the bunch, he had a peachy tint to his face that he kept denying was the alcohol since he was supposedly the ‘designated driver’. Kirishima had doubted it, but he wasn’t about to push. He himself had driven home tipsy before, as stupid as it was and he would never condone it.

The blond had kept shouting at his friends to either ‘be quiet’ or he was telling them how dumb their tattoo choices were. It’d been hella funny, to watch them all go to the guy for approval and then cheer when all he said was ‘whatever’ or grunt. Calling back to the manga he had in his teenage years, Kirishima would’ve called him the ‘tsundere’ type hands down.

“Hey man,” Kirishima called to him, waving from the desk. It was a slow day so he was spending it organizing stuff. His co-workers Mina and Jiro were out after he’d told them to go home. No need for all three of them to be there when it was stupidly boring. Besides, he wanted Jiro to have all the time in the world to get ready for her date with a girl named Momo. Good on Jiro for landing a lady like that, hella.

‘Blond dude’ grunted back at him, and Kirishima only kept a passive eye on him. With how he’d kept his drunk friends in line he wasn’t worried about him being a thief or anything. “Something catch your eye last time? Didn’t peg ya for a tattoo sort of guy.”

“What makes you say that?” ‘blond dude’ sneered at him, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

Kirishima only arched a brow at him and then shrugged, “Dunno. Guess it was how you seemed to give zero fucks, is all. What can I call ya?”

“The name’s Bakugo. What about you? Can’t keep callin’ ya ‘shitty hair’.”

A snort-laugh escaped the redhead, “Rude, I at least just referred to you as ‘blond dude’. My name’s Kirishima.” he flashed him a smirk and leaned back. His eyes, black hidden by red contacts, flicked up and down as he looked the other over. "So, I still gotta beg the question- you looking for a tat?"

That was where...Bakugo's demeanor seemed to change. Shifting and glancing around again with his lips pulled into a scowl. "What if I am? Anything you'd suggest, shitty hair?" 

"I gave you my name and ya still call me that? I'm hurt, Bakugo," he did a mock press of his hand to his chest but he stood up and stretched, sighing when there were a few pops. Sauntering over to an end table he found the binder that had all of his work and brought it to Bakugo, "Here, take a look at-" he cut off as he met the other man's eyes. Whoa, wicked! With the sun coming in from the window, it was catching on Bakugo's eyes, which were like a cinnamon brown and they were shining orange or a particular shade of red. 

It made Kirishima's breath catch even further when that peachy blush he remembered appeared, but he looked a mix of angry and flustered, brows pulled down and teeth bared, "What?! What were ya gunna say?!"

"Whoa, whoa, chill out," Kirishima put his hands up in defense, looking sheepish, "Your eyes looked really cool there for a sec, is all. I was going to say, have a look at what is in that binder. There's three people that do art here, so if nothing catches your attention then I'll give you another portfolio." 

"Where's yours?" Bakugo was looking less like he was going to bite his head off and he opened the portfolio.

"In your hands," Kirishima smirked before going back to his desk, adding a pop to his step. He was hoping he'd pick something from the first one, and had a feeling it was a challenge now to do so anyway. 

He had reached his destination when he was stopped, “Wait.” Bakugo was staring intently at a page in the binder, “You drew this?” he held it up with one hand and pointed at the drawing in question with the other. It was concept art rather than a finished tattoo piece, but it was a detailed Chinese-style dragon with a rendered head, horns and scales until it reached halfway down the body. That was where it started having curved cuts and breaks in a tribal style, the color of the scales fading out into the black simplicity tribal was supposed to be.

“I sure did. No one’s wanted it yet, it’s supposed to go on the arm to accommodate the winding of its body. People who come in wanting dragons tend to have different ideas in mind.” Kirishima tilted his head, curious but also his heart was suddenly pounding. It’d been in that portfolio so long, he’d contemplated taking out multiple times. He’d done it with other pieces that never got attention, but something always held him back from removing that one. The orange of it with tints of red and flecks of yellow always made him melt. He was a sucker for fire, and while yellow was hard to do in tattoos [something he learned along the way] he knew it wasn’t impossible.

“Can you do it, Kirishima?” Bakugo’s intensity hadn’t faded and Kirishima almost had a heart attack. Wow, was he crushing on this customer? He thought the banter was just good fun, but now he found he really wanted to try and make a good impression. “Even if you’ve never actually done it before, do you think you can now?”

He paused and looked between the drawing and back at Bakugo a few times. With a deep breath through his nose, he nodded, “Yes.” The confidence and the fact he hadn’t answered right away seemed to satisfy the blond, “When I first drew it a few years ago, maybe not. Now? Yes. I have the skills and the know-how, I can definitely do that piece justice.”

“How much? How does this work?” Bakugo joined him at his desk and set the portfolio down, then startled Kirishima by taking off his black jacket.

“Haha, well, I’d like to do a few touchups, and I’d have to solidify at least the outline so I can print and place it on your arm. This’ll give you time to think it-”

“I won’t change my mind, and we’ll do it on my right arm,” Bakugo was firm, holding out the length of his arm for him, “How big will it be?”

“Back to price real fast, the shop goes by time rather than how big or small a tattoo is. 75 dollars for half an hour as a baseline.” Kirishima laughed again but softer as he soaked in the sight. “Damn, man, you’re ripped. Do you have a heavy lifting job or do you just work out?” His touch was light as he took Bakugo’s wrist in his hand and pushed up the short sleeve. Glancing at the image then back at his arm he hummed thoughtfully.

Bakugo gave him a scoff with a smirk attached to it, “I do work out. I have a home gym. An actual one is too damn distracting and paying for a stupid pass is fucking useless with how busy I get.”

Kirishima snorted, “I getcha. I tend to go to a gym between here and my house.” He didn’t catch Bakugo holding his breath when he started tracing where he’d place the tattoo. The muscles were firm and nice to feel. He didn’t know why he was so aware of the other, but he was. Sure he’d had sexy guys and gals in his shop, but Bakugo was different somehow. “So I’d put the head of it here...go around like this, keep it out of the crease of your elbow of course...end it about here? I try and keep sleeve tattoos to the point where they can be covered by long shirts.”

Bakugo humphed, “Do whatever. I don’t care.”

“It’s going to take a lot of work, maybe two or three sessions. I’d suggest bringing a soda or a bag of chocolate, anything that’ll help keep your blood sugar up. Depending on your job and schedule, we can space it to accommodate. I’d do the whole outline first of course. Maybe black fill in next, and lastly the color.”

“Fine.” Bakugo put his sleeve down and moved to put his jacket back on, “I got the time to stay for now. You said you needed to make changes, so I’ll wait and see if I even like what you change.” He pulled his phone out, “You need my number for scheduling, right?”

“Sure do,” Kirishima was amused again and he walked around his desk to his computer, “Lemme bring up my calendar and we’ll get you set up, Bakubro.” He paused, “Ah, can I call ya that? It just slipped out, so-”

“Call me what you want.” Bakugo scoffed again, finding a chair to bring nearby so he could watch what Kirishima was doing, “Let me know when you’re done and I can look at it. Artists are picky about that sort of thing, aren’t they?”

“I don’t mind so much unless I’m embarrassed about it or keeping it a surprise,” Kirishima chuckled, booting up his programs after he put down Bakugo’s appointments and number, “I’m also glad you stayed. I like the company on a boring day like this.”

He noted that Bakugo didn’t respond besides a grunt, but he smiled anyway. Giddy and inspired, he pulled the tattoo design from the portfolio and got to work.

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(part 21 of ?; first; previous; next)

(BTW, as of this update, Reordberend is, by my count, a little over 45k words long, putting it in the territory of a shortish novel. That also makes it one of the longest SF stories I’ve ever written. It’s not the most popular thing I’ve ever posted on Tumblr, but it has gotten a steady trickle of notes. Knowing there are people out there who enjoy your work, even if it’s fairly niche, is the best motivation there is to keep writing. Thank you for reading!)

Katherine Alice Green The Guest Room in the Village Hall The High Settlement McMurdo Dry Valleys ANTARCTICA

to Dr. Eunice Valerie Gordon Trinity College Dublin Dublin 2 IRELAND

Dear Dr. Gordon,

I am writing yet another letter I won’t be able to send, which, I realize might make me seem like kind of a crazy person. The only defense I can plead, I guess, is that the perpetual darkness of the winters here does funny things to you if you’re not used to it, and I’ve had a lot of down time lately that I need to do something productive with. I have already written to my parents, to a couple of friends, and to my cat, which leaves only you. And these letters seem to have a way of focusing my thoughts, so maybe it’s not an entirely useless exercise.

Where to begin? Well, first of all, I’m alive. That may come as a surprise. It occured to me not long after I was marooned here that perhaps nobody knows that. No one has come looking for me, and why would they? If any rescue parties did go looking for the Albatross, I doubt they’d come this far south. Not in winter. But I did in fact survive the ship going down. I don’t think anybody else did. The Dry Valleys People didn’t find anyone else on the shore, alive or dead. I try not to think about that too much, but, to be honest, it still has me kind of fucked up.

Oh, that’s the other things. I’ve made contact with the Dry Valleys People. I am, as the return address indicates, currently living with them. They have welcomed me, rather reluctantly, and I’ll be able to remain at least until the first sunrise of spring. This was not necessarily a widely popular decision, and I’ve come to learn that the political situation among the DVP is rather complicated. They have always guarded their isolation and their independence, and they’re keen to keep guarding it in the future, but there are some among them who worry how long that will really be possible. I think this is something Dr. Wright foresaw, and tried to warn them about in the letter he sent with me. But as you might expect, this is something a large part of their community doesn’t want to hear or even think about, and my presence here is definitely fraught.

As for my original mission… well, it’s an unqualified success, despite the difficulties. I’ve learned a lot. The language, to start with. You won’t believe this, but they speak Old English here. No, not thee and thou and maketh yon Old English. Not Chaucer, even. Older. From their books and what they’ve told me, their ancestors used the West Saxon dialect of Old English, as spoken about the year 1000 AD, as the basis for the language they taught their children. Dr. Wright knew this, of course. That’s how he was able to communicate them and win their trust; he showed an affinity for the same history and the same long-term perspective they cared about. If it seems weird that a bunch of people would move to Antarctica, forsake almost every modern convenience, and deliberately teach their kids a dead language that would be useless in the wider world, well, all I can say I guess is that humans have done a lot of weird shit for a lot of weird reasons throughout history. I think I am beginning to understand why the ancestors of the DVP did what they did. Some of them have tried to explain it to me, but there is a gap in our worldviews here that is difficult to bridge.

One of the DVP that I have befriended is a poet named Leofric. His sister, Leofe, taught me the language, but I’ve learned a lot more about their literature from him. It’s primarily an oral literature, although they do write some of it down. They like long, semi-narrative poetry that draws heavily on the imagery of the natural world, and I would say that it owes something to the ancient Anglo-Saxon poetry they keep in their books, except that, of course, the environment here is nothing like the environment of England one thousand years ago. But there are still some poetic traditions they have inherited from those earlier examples. For instance, their world is harsh, and unforgiving, and from a certain angle looks like a world in decline. The ancient English (so I am told) were surrounded by great Roman ruins they spoke of as being the work of metaphorical giants; here, they have the ruins of two hundred years of scientific and industrial exploration of the Antarctic coast. And their world, too, is enclosed by a vast cold sea, although this one has penguins in it at least.

Aside from the language, the founders of the DVP don’t seem to have intended to recreate medieval English society. There are no kings. There is a semi-formal system of village headship by seniority, but the social hierarchy is very flat. Marriage, inheritance, and choice of occupation all take place on fairly egalitarian terms, and their strictest taboos surround the sharing of labor and resources, not sexuality or religion. I wonder how much of their customs are the result of gradual cultural evolution, or some deliberate effort at creating a planned community. There are lots of funny Utopian experimental communities out there, but most tend to fail after a generation. In a way, this one couldn’t fail, because they had no way to leave Antarctica. They had to make it work. Is this what a real utopian project looks like after six or seven generations?

But honestly, one of the most fascinating aspects of the DVP is their material culture. As you might expect, their day-to-day existence is profoundly shaped by the environment they live in. Their houses are all heavy stone, designed to trap scarce heat, and arranged around the village halls as a windbreak against the dry katabatic gales that sweep the McMurdo Valleys clear of ice. Despite this being one of the driest locations on Earth, it’s still a better habitat for them than the glaciers of the Antarctic lowlands, or the rough, icy terrain of the mountains--here, you can actually build, and you don’t need skis and snowshoes to get around. But, as a consequence, much of their most important infrastructure is underground.

I don’t know if the ancestral DVP brought the right tools with them or if they scavenged them once here, but they have accumulated a small stockpile of laser borers, ultrasonic chisels, and crystalsteel digging equipment that they use to carve out underground chambers in the hills as meeting places and ritual sites. But they don’t do their agriculture there; that happens in networks of buried trenches just below the villages, where they grow cold-resistant mosses and lichens to supplement a meat-based diet, and what seems to be a form of genegineered fibergrass they use to weave their clothing and tapestries, and to make books.

Their art is very beautiful. Their coats, books, and tapestries--even their stone carvings--all depict elaborate lineate forms of plants and animals, inherited I suppose from ancestral memory, since none of the organisms in question are found in Antarctica. They also make images depicting the mountains, of course, and the sea, and the animals that live on the coast; even some of the coastal settlements, as seen from far off. They’re often abstracted, but these images are geographically grounded: they’re not just “generic mountains” or “generic coastline,” they’re specific mountains, specific coastlines, and they add up--if you are exposed to them every day of your life growing up--to something like a conceptual map of all of Victoria Land. It seems that if you dropped an average adult DVP individual anywhere from Oates Land to the Queen Elizabeth Range, they could probably find their way home, even during the dark months of winter.

(Oh! And the dark months! You’d think they’d be depressing, but I never imagined in my life I would see such a sight as the aurora australis, or even the clear polar stars! I can’t describe it to you. Maybe Leofric could, if I could do justice to his verse.)

They’re very communitarian, and great emphasis is placed on making sure no one goes without, but the price of that is, apparently, extremely elaborate dispute-resolution mechanisms; for a culture without courts, government, or attorneys, they are remarkably bureaucratic. Each physical object seems to have its own laws attached to it. Some may be shared by all objects of that type--for instance, if you need an electric firestarter, you always go to the house windward of yours to ask if they have one. If they don’t, you go to the next, and so on; firestarters pass from house to house, as needed, but only in one direction. Other objects may have completely unique rules. There is a knife with an elaborately carved handle meant to be used only by left-handed people. I don’t know why; nobody I asked knew, either. But that was the custom, and it was scrupulously obeyed. As a rule, the more elaborately decorated an object, the more particular the rules associated with it, but the elaboration of the object doesn’t seem to connote anything about the rules. It only marks it out as somehow special. The rules themselves are transmitted orally. All of these rules at bottom are about making sure that resources are evenly distributed--making sure nobody has to walk too far in bitterly cold weather to find a firestarter, for instance--and even the ones that don’t make sense now probably were created for good reason. For instance, the southpaw knife. Their knives for carving meat all have handles that curve in one way, to help separate flesh from bone, and I suspect that one is the result of a left-handed steelsmith getting fed up with with tools he couldn’t use very well. The blade is that of a carving-knife, though the handle attached to it is straight. The handle was probably later replaced when it broke, and somebody needed the knife for a different purpose--but the custom attached to it remained the same.

This system of sharing is, if anything, even more scrupulously observed when there’s a windfall. We went on a salvage expedition a month ago and brought back some much-needed supplies, and they spent days working out what would go where, first to each village and then, once we got back to the High Settlement, each house in each village--and even then, this was just what went to who first. Anything that’s not a finite supply, like food, will get passed from house to house. Leofric tells me that a few years ago, a whale--an entire blue whale, actually--beached itself to the north, and they had to have a weeklong assembly (on the beach, next to the whale, natch) to decide what do with every scrap of meat and bone. They still talk about the arguments that went down at the Whale Parliament sometimes (for which their word is hwaelthing, by the way. Literally it means exactly what it looks like: “whale-thing.”). Funny thing is, they also very carefully manage arguments in these discussions. That’s not normally the case--if two people have an argument and what to physically fight each other about it, that’s considered their business. But when it comes to disputes about food or metal or tools, everybody is very keen to show how Not Mad they are, even if they’re actually seething about it on the inside. And if voices get raised, people get hustled aside, and the whole matter is dropped completely until everybody has a chance to calm down. This looks like a system that was either deliberately designed to keep fights from breaking out and feelings getting permanently hurt, or one that sprung up after some nasty experiences of actual fights. I suspect the latter. It’s all very informal, but there’s a lot of social pressure that enforces it. The price for division and discord in an environment this hard to live in would be death, and I think all their social institutions are built around that reality.

I will admit, this has not been the easiest experience. I mean, there’s the almost dying part, and the part where all my cybernetics are broken, and I had a bad bout of something flulike a few weeks ago and almost died again, but I don’t actually mean the physical hardship. It is a more isolating experience than I thought it would be, being the lone outsider in such a close-knit community. Everyone knows everybody and everything, except me. They all have their own jokes and stories and long-running feuds, and they can communicate a great deal to one another with just a glance, and I’m left wondering what just happened when everybody laughs at something, or a fight breaks out. I have struggled sometimes to learn the language. I mean, I’ve had no other choice, and it’s amazing what you can learn when your survival depends on it, but even now I still sometimes find myself struggling to communicate ideas, or staying silent even when there is something I might want to say, just because I can’t find the words. It’s infuriating not being able to express yourself well, and maybe for good reason I sometimes think they all see me as this hapless idiot who almost got herself killed, who they have to put up with until the spring as a result.

Okay, I mean, I kind of am that. But I am also genuinely interested in their society, in the DVP as individuals, in their stories and their history. But I feel like the best I can hope for is being kind of a mascot. Or a well-meaning but dim-witted pet. A Labrador or something.

Not that I haven’t made friends. I would say Leofric is a friend. The salvagers--Eadwig and Andrac--they’re friends. And I seem to have won at least the grudging toleration of the ones like Aelfric who initially wanted to leave me to die. But sometimes I think I’ve made a connection, somehow bridged the unbridgeable gulf between my life experience and the world of the DVP, only to find out I’ve done no such thing. I thought Leofe was a friend; but now she’s not speaking to me, and she’s left the High Settlement for one of the other valleys. I don’t know why, and the others just shrug when I ask them.

Ugh. This is turning into whining. Now I know I’ll never send it. Sorry. It’s been a long day. It’s amazing how tired you can get when your muscles can’t rely on your augs to help them do shit.

But I need to find a way to bridge that gap. I mean really bridge it. Because I feel like I’m starting to understand something the DVP aren’t ready to hear. Their ancestors came to Antarctica at a time when the rest of the world wasn’t much interested in it. It was a wasteland, so sure, let’s treat it as an international, shared territory. Nobody goes there but scientists and the occasional tourist. And during the Collapse, not even that--Antarctica was truly empty for the first time in a hundred and fifty years when the ancestors of the DVP came to its shores. But it isn’t anymore. And it won’t ever be a real wasteland again. Every year the mining consortia move a little further down the Transantarctic Mountains. Every year a new outpost pops up on the coast, more ships come to Port Alexander, more icebreakers cut through the polar sea. Antarctica is warmer now that it’s been at any time in the past. Heck, without some global warming, I don’t think the Dry Valleys would be habitable. But that means more exposed rock, more open ground to build on, more people coming to the continent to work on the mining platforms or the offshore factories, and one day, I think, they’re going to come here.

What will the DVP do when that happens? This isn’t North Sentinel Island, which nobody ever goes to because there’s no reason. There’s gold in the hills here--the DVP make jewelry out of it--and maybe other precious metals, and you could build a geothermal station on Mount Erebus and power a small town, if you wanted to build some autofactories. The Antarctic Authority exists to promote “science and industry,” but with a big emphasis on industry. And by science they mostly mean, like, watching penguins bone and building telescopes at the South Pole. Not soft stuff like anthropology. And certainly not protecting three valleys full of cessionist oddballs whose parents had an unreasonable fondness for dead languages.

I think Dr. Wright knew this. I think maybe he tried to warn the DVP when he was here, but back then the danger was even further away. And it’s hard to get people to pay attention to danger that seems far away, even if it might be an existential threat. And when dealing with that danger would require you to completely change the only life you’d ever known… well, that’s a hard sell. The DVP don’t really like change. I can’t blame them. But one day things are going to change here, and if they’re not prepared for it, it could get really ugly, really fast. It’s one thing to shut yourself away when the world is ignoring you. It’s another when the world comes knocking.

If I think I can persuade them, I’m going to talk to the elders here, Aelfric and Wulf. Some of the DVP have had very fleeting contact with outsiders before me. I think one of them should come with me in the spring, as a sort of emissary. I’m not sure who they should talk to, yet. Maybe the Authority. Maybe somebody in Port Alexander’s local government? Or maybe we should just try to tell their story directly to the world. That might bring the DVP more attention than they’d like, but better a little good attention now than a lot of bad attention later. I would have asked Leofe--she’s smart, she’s tough, she could handle the culture shock--but that’s not an option now. Something to think about, anyway.

Well. I hope this letter finds the imaginary version of you well, my love to the imaginary family &c, hope the undergrads aren’t giving you too much trouble this year. If for some reason you do find this letter--like I freeze to death on my way to the weather station in September and they find this document on my corpse--please forgive my stubbornness, my insistence on going on this stupid trip, and any worry I’ve caused you as a result. And if I really am dead, please tell everybody I died doing something badass, like, I dunno, fighting a polar bear. I guess those are extinct and they never lived in Antarctica anyway, but something along those lines. Make it good.

All the best,

Kate