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kewltie · 2 years ago

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"Katsuki!"

A loud bellow echoes through the hall of the house, yanking Izuku's attention from his reading. He looks up just in time to see a young woman in pink storming in. It's a familiar face that he recognizes well from TV and numerous headlines.

"What did I hear about you getting a lesser?!" Ashido Mina demands. With hands on her hip and looking like something fierce, the number 36th Hero Pinky is truly a sight to see.

Izuku quickly runs through the data he had collected in his head of what he knows of her: quirk, acid; grade, A; and class, 5. An upper caste member of society, providing high value application with her quirk. Izuku has seen her photos plastered all over the news, alongside other fame heroes like Katsuki. In another world, he could almost let himself imagine he was among them too.

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance, stops washing the dishes and removes his gloves. He casts aside his apron before turning around and walking toward the intruder. "I didn't give you the fucking code to my house so you can just barge in anytime you want," he scolds. "Have some fucking manners, Raccoon Eyes."

The earlier flurry of energy from her deflates, but she still doesn't appear to be happy with him. "Where is he?" she says instead. "Where are you hiding the lesser in your possession?"

"You mean him?" He cocks his head toward Izuku, who’s been quietly sitting on the couch watching them the entire time.

Izuku smiles shyly at her and gives a small wave from where he's sitting, but he dares not approach them and disturb their conversation. Katsuki looks at him with a frown before gesturing with his hand for Izuku to come forward.

"C'mere," he instructs, and that's all the permission Izuku need.

He closes his book and tentatively moves toward them. Pulling to a stop right beside Katsuki, Izuku gives Ashido a slight bow.

"Hello, Pinky-sama," he greets, perfectly cordial and with the right inflection of respect in his tone. "I'm Izuku from the Academy." He doesn't give her his last name. It no longer matters. It hasn’t for a long time now.

He hears her make a choking noise that sound like a rock has lodge itself in her throat. "Please don't bow to me," she says urgently. "And you can call me Ashido or Mina if you like. I don't mind it either way!"

"Ashido-sama," he corrects himself as he slowly raises his head.

He’s aware that she’s a friend of Katsuki but years of training is hard to undo. He’s always cautious of how he presents himself, because one wrong move and he could be sent back to the Academy. Trade out for a better lesser. A more obedient and useful one. It has happened before.

Ashido gives him an encouraging smile, but he could feel the heat of her gaze trains on his neck the entire time, trying to see something that isn't there right now. Something heavy, thick and encasing. A PET collar. Instead, hidden under his one of his pants legs, it sits delicately on his ankle disguised as a jewelry.

“So you’re Katsuki’s new lesser,” she comments. It sounds stiff and terse.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, his sense of danger prickling at the back of his head. It feels like something is going to go wrong very, very soon.

Then with eyes blazing, she directs her ire toward Katsuki instead. "Do you realize what you've done?!" she demands, jabbing a finger at Katsuki's chest. "This is even insensitive for you! You can't be that obtuse to think you can get away with it!"

Face pinched, Katsuki slaps her hand away from his person and huffs. "What the fuck is riding up your ass this morning?"

"Sorry, if I sound a little upset when I heard that one of my best friends bought another human being without me knowing!" Ashido hisses, knuckles going white.

Even though Ashido is clearly angry at Katsuki and not him, Izuku takes a step slightly behind Katsuki. He's trained to be perceptive to the mood of the people around him to deescalate the tense situation and make sure he'll not be bearing the consequence of it. It's a safety measure.

Katsuki doesn't even react to Izuku's pressing himself close to him now, their shoulders casually bumping against each other. "What was I supposed to do," he snarls back at her. "Let some rat ass bastard buy him instead of me?"

"We could have figure something out! You know I’m part of ERA!" Ashido argues. "Have ever consider how it'll look that the top hero of our country is now a part of the lessers ownership initiative? If this get out to the general public, they're going to take it as you endorsing the program and you’re going to be their new poster boy. As your friend how can I stand by and let your name be used like that?" she demands, shaking her head.

Izuku has heard of the group call ERA, Equality for All, and its mission to see beyond the emphasis on a quirk base classification of their society, spreading the idea that they’re all equal and deserve a fair chance. They're on the lower end of the government's watchlist and the Academy considers them a nuisance at best compare to the home-grown terrorist groups like LION, Lesser Rights Coalition, that threatens to completely dismantle the Quirk Index System that judge every citizen living in the country how their quirk should be graded and which caste they fall under.

So, he's not only surprise that Ashido is part of ERA especially given her public image and high caste, but that Katsuki is also a friend of hers.

It makes him wonder what has changed for Katsuki after they were separated more than a decade ago? They both had grown up and grown apart, into wholly different people, belonging to different caste now. One is a top-ranking hero of the country and the other is a bound lesser. With a highly rated quirk, Katsuki now represents their country as a pro-hero like they both had dreamed of, but he also seems different now. Less angry and arrogant. Even when he's arguing with Ashido, there seem to be an ease in which they speak to each other as though whatever said they won’t hold it against each other personally.

The Katsuki he knows was always surrounded by people, but also so terribly alone at the same time. He kept everyone else at a distance, even Izuku, and doesn’t let anyone through his walls. There was no one special to him. He was indifference to all, but maybe that was no longer the case anymore. Ashido has free access to Katsuki’s home, and they appear close. In the past that would have been an unimaginable scenario. Maybe he has really changed, maybe Izuku doesn’t know him anymore. Or ever at all.

"I wasn't going to leave it to chance," Katsuki snaps, eyes going cold and dark. "I just found him and I won't lose him again."

Startled by the intensity of Katsuki's tone, Ashido's eyes go wide. "Found him? Is he—" Her eyes are falls on Izuku. "A-are you Deku? Katsuki's Deku?"

Izuku nods. Slowly. Unsure. Like he's missing a piece of the puzzle here and nobody is willing to help him find it.

The corner of her lips tug upward as her face relaxes into a smile of relief. "So, you're Katsuki's white whale," she says, which only confuses him even more.

Izuku's brows furrow, looking at Katsuki pointedly. "White whale?" he asks, tugging at Katsuki's sleeve. "What did she mean by that?"

Katsuki resolutely ignores him as he glares at Ashido. "Shut your face. Don't put dumb shit in his head or he's going to get the wrong idea."

Izuku pouts. Katsuki talked as if he's a child that doesn't know any better. Really not fair. He wants to know she meant by him being Katsuki’s white whale.

"Really?" Ashido muses, there's a teasing lilt in her tone. "What sort of idea could that even be?"

Katsuki's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Get your fucking brain out of the gutter."

"You know Katsuki, if you have told me earlier, I could have help you rescue your childhood sweetheart," she comments idly as if knowing exactly what button to press on Katsuki.

And just like that Katsuki makes a sputtering noise of distress and Izuku's face goes up in flame.

"We're not—" Izuku swallows. "We're not anything of that sort!" he vehemently denies. He didn't even think they were friends when they last saw each other all those years back. Their relationship has always been muddled with complicated feelings that they still haven't been able to sort out even after all these years.

Love. Hate. Hurt. Regret. Admiration and resentment. It all entangled up together that someday Izuku has a hard time deciphering which is which. He thought that after they were separated, he won't miss Katsuki at all, especially when Katsuki had left scars all over his heart. But he'd yearned for him, yearned for the kinder and simpler days of their childhood where their life didn't line up and stands opposite of each other. One rose and the other sank, the former sat at the top with a cape around him and the latter on his knees and a collar at his throat.

Even in the Academy, when he's not busy with his lessons he could easily catch sight of Katsuki on TV or in the headlines, tracing the figure of the boy who has grown up without him, and thought if only he can stand right next to Katsuki. Close yet so far like a distant star. And now Katsuki is his master and Izuku served at his behest. How strange things have turned out in the end.

As though sensing the direction of Izuku's mood quickly spiraling downward, Katsuki asserts loudly and fiercely to Ashido, "What we are is nobody's business, but ours."

Ashido blinks. Slightly taken back by the way her joke seems to fall flat in front of them, she quickly backtracks, "Sorry, sorry!"

Izuku offers up a smile to her in hope of squashing any awkwardness between them. It's really nobody's fault that Katsuki and his relationship are a bit of a minefield to tread across. "It's quite alright," he says. "I'm just happy that Kacchan has such a good friend with him."

Even in Ashido's earlier anger, she had cared enough to broach such a sensitive subject to him because she was worry about his reputation and how it could damage him later ton even though this is clearly something that matter to her a lot. This kind of deep and loyal friendship, Izuku finds envious.

He doesn't have anyone like that back in the Academy. They were all on their own, driven by their need to prove themselves in order to stand out because only the best and brightest of them are chosen by a master; the rest will be sent to work in the camps, never to be seen again. Lesser that aren't up to standards of what they thought is a practical tool are therefore reeducated and put somewhere else, so that they can provide other benefits to society.

At least here with Katsuki, under his thumb and the constrain of his bondage, Izuku is own person still.

Ashido grins, her face lighting up at the mention of their friendship. "Well, someone got to put up with this prickly guy," she says as Katsuki scoffs. "He may be rough around the edges, but he's a pretty decent person once you get really, really down to his soft gooey center."

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki bites out as she giggles.

Izuku keeps a smile plastered on his face, careful not to let it drop as he watches Ashido and Katsuki's laidback banter and the way she had explained Katsuki to him as though he's a stranger in Katsuki's life. Involuntary, his chest throbs.

"I hope Katsuki is not making your life difficult," Ashido says with concern. "He has never owned a lesser before, so it may be challenging to live with him at first. He's not pushing you too hard, right?"

Katsuki snorts. “Does it look like I'm even making him do anything?" He gestures toward the kitchen that been Katsuki's domain all of this morning as he prepares lunch for them while Izuku has been lounging in the living room with a book in hand.

Izuku smiles sheepishly, scratching his cheek. "I’ve been reading. Mostly. But only because he won't let me help around the house!" It’s strange.

The academy has trained him ub housework and other skill sets that may be require of him from his master, but Katsuki doesn't seem to care or need him for any of it. It makes him feel redundant and worthless because this is all he has ever known, to serve and please his master. Katsuki won't even let him do that, so what is the point of his existence here? He still doesn't know the exact reason why Katsuki had purchased him. Was out of some concern for him that Katsuki had extended a hand toward him? Or was a sense of duty that had spurred Katsuki to action?

Katsuki's motivation has been in the dark to him ever since they reunited that day at the Academy and he whisked him away from there. He'd given Izuku a beautiful anklet instead of a collar, promised that he was going to find Inko for Izuku, and stripped Izuku of all responsibilities. All he demands from Izuku is that he remains safely at home and do anything moderately stupid.

Some days, he feels more like an over indulgence pet than a human.

"You must have been so bored," Ashido says, looking at him pitifully like she knows how he's hardwired to serve, to be of use.

Well, yes, he has a lot of free time now, but he's just laying around the house uselessly. He doesn't tell her that though. "It's fine," he insists.

He's living on Katsuki's generosity, so he can't complain. Doing nothing is better than being sent back and reeducated. Considering his situation, he's luckier than most lessers. Katsuki is temperamental but he doesn't lash out at him. He treats Izuku brusquely but not harshly. It’s a pretty good life.

Ashido frowns, scrutinizing him so carefully that Izuku dare not even breathe before snapping her head toward Katsuki. "You should provide some physical activity or mental stimulus to Deku instead of having him wait all day around for you," she scolds. "He needs something to do!"

Katsuki scrunches up his face. "I got him plenty of books to read! And he likes them." He looks at Izuku pointedly. "Right?"

Feeling like he's caught in the crossfire, "I like books," he answers meekly, afraid of what answer he give won't satisfied either party in the end.

Ashido roll her eyes. Hard. "Something else then! You can't expect him to be only into books. People have different interests," she reminds him. "They need variety in life, a little spice, they can't all be boring old man like you, who like to stay at home and water his plants and cook."

Katsuki glares. "Those are perfectly acceptable hobbies."

"Sure,” she shrugs, “but you get to do all that while Deku isn't even allow to do any of it except apparently read his books. Doesn't that sound constricting?" she asks. "Have you ever asked him what he thought of it?"

Katsuki's gaze drops to the floor as a stiff silence descends upon them, making Izuku shifts his legs nervously but then he directs his attention to Izuku. "Do you feel like I have been unfair to you?"

Izuku quickly shakes his head, because it's true. Katsuki has been good to him. His life been nice so far.

"Be honest with me, I won't be mad," Katsuki presses further.

His tone is firm but his words are ripe with sincerity even if it's a little awkward with his intention, a little pushy. He looks so unsure and hesitant like Izuku is a child who has to be coax for an answer, but he doesn’t know how. It’s a Katsuki he has never seen before. All prideful arrogance reduced to this.

It's kind of cute.

"Well, I do like my books, but sometimes—” Izuku bites down on his lower lip, hesitant but then, “sometimes I wish there was something else I can do too," he admits at last. "When you're not here, it can be a little monotonous and drab. The highlight of my day is when you're back home and I can hear about how your day of work went."

He was very careful with his words, choosing the ones that he thought won't set Katsuki off and offend him, but the way Katsuki draws back from him and his face a strange amalgamation of confusion and upset like Izuku has taken a knife and stabbed him in the chest repeatedly—was not what he was expecting. At all.

It's a jarring sight.

Just as Izuku about open his mouth and retract his earlier statement, Katsuki shoves his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I can't read your fucking mind, so you’ll have tell me next time," he say, aggrieved, then he heaves a sigh. "I'll do better."

Izuku's jaw go slacked in a shock, so he leans over and pinches Katsuki's arm just in case.

"Deku, you fuck!" Katsuki growls, yanking his arm away.

"I just wanted to make sure I'm not dreaming," he sulks. This can’t be real right? Katsuki, actually, sort of, maybe, admitting he was wrong and trying to improve on it?

"Then pinch yourself," Katsuki hisses, glaring at him heatedly.

"Well, then I would be in pain," he says, and when Katsuki looks like he's about to blow a casket, Izuku breaks out into laughter. He feels light and unburden for the first time in a while.

Katsuki stares at him with dazed look on his face like he doesn't know what to make of him. “You—”

Ashido clears her throat, drawing both of their attention to her as it seems both of they had forgotten that she is also here with them. "Well, if you two are done with whatever that was," she says, wagging her brow. "I have a suggestion."

Recovering himself, Katsuki snorts. "Do tell," he says.

"How about you take Deku with you instead of leaving him alone all day alone when you’re at work," she proposes.

Izuku immediately perks up while Katsuki frowns. "You want me to bring Deku to work? Are you fucking crazy?!" he demands, refusing to accept the idea of it.

"Why not?" Ashido folds her arms across her chest, unfazed. "You have full ownership over him and in the eyes of the law, he can go anywhere that you can go as long as it’s under your permission. And it’s your agency, you have full control over there."

"That's not the point," he retorts, peeved like he's gearing up for another fight with her, but Izuku quickly intervenes.

He reaches out and touches Katsuki's arm, drops his voice to a low cadence with a hint of a coyness, his eyes dips and he looks up at Katsuki from his lashes. "But Kacchan, I want to go," Izuku pleads. "I promise not to cause any trouble and be hindrance to you, so can you take me with you?"

He's putting the lessons of the Academy to work, all that training to be the perfect servant, the perfect companion to their master. When Katsuki remains silent for a lengthy time, Izuku isn't surprise this paltry trick doesn't work on him. He attempts to withdraw his hand, but Katsuki catches it just in time much to Izuku shock.

"Fine," he bites out something fierce, a low guttural sound that sends shiver down Izuku's back as he delicately but firmly holds Izuku's hand in his grip like he can brand his touch against Izuku’s skin. "You can come, but you must listen to everything I say and don't take stupid, reckless action."

"Ah," Izuku breathes. He wonders if this count as stupid, reckless action with the way he instigated this—whatever this is—and now he's the one paying the price of it. Katsuki's touch burns him, incinerating the last of his brain cells. "I'll be good, master," he says, the words unbiddenly slipping pass from his lips.

Katsuki's eyes darken, his breath is drawn out, and he looks at Izuku like he's puzzle that he still can't quite parse out yet. "You're going to drive me to an early grave, nerd," he mumbles, but it sounds helplessly fond.

"Well, don't die yet. You have to take me to work first," Izuku says cheerfully, tangling their hand together. Katsuki’s touch anchors him in place, an assurance of safety that even if he has no home for himself, his place is by Katsuki’s side now. Till however long Katsuki will have him at least.

“Hey, hey, did you guys forget that also I’m here again?” Ashido says, with a heavy sigh.

#bakudeku #quirkless slave au #fic snippet

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doctorbeth · 5 years ago

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Stripes the 50 year old tiger

This will be a longer post, because it’s all about the details, and there was a lot of going back and forth with photos and emails to get Stripes and his stripes just right. So be sure you’re comfy when you sit down to read it. :-)

***************

Stripes person first wrote to me back in December about her tiger, Stripes, and his companion RedEye the snake. Both were starting to feel their age, but as she said,

“ As you can see Stripes is in the most need of repairs. Personally, I’m guessing that a full recovering is needed, but I’m certainly no expert and will follow your advice. Here are some pics which show Stripes fur disappearing and soon he will be bald. Amazingly he has no damage that I can find. His ears need some stuffing, but they have never been tall, firm standing Teddy Bear ears.”

Here are the diagnosis photos she sent:

As you can see, his belly section was pretty good, but his furry parts were wearing and fading. His person really wanted his fur recovered, in an orangier rather than tanner fur, and she opted for him to have a spa too.

Here he is in his bubble bath:

Once he was dry, he got restuffed and of course, got a heart with a bit of his original stuffing. Here’s his heart being made:

Then it was time to choose furs. As some of you know who’ve been reading for a while, usually with tigers we use a solid fur of the preferred background color, then add the stripes by hand afterwards. Here were the best fur options:

His person opted for the orangier, furrier one.

Stripes got recovered, and some smaller wounds on his belly were sewn. Then, it was time for hand striping. I did some basic striping, and then sent photos for feedback:

His person’s first response was:

Beth, you’ve made me cry at work. I’m absolutely over the moon with Stripes new look!!! Holy cats he’s looking beautiful!! You are AMAZING!

But I was asking for striping feedback, and she happily provided it:

The stripes. Thank you for being so conservative. :) I would like to add some more stripes. I’ve included an updated pic that shows where I would like some stripes added.

Tail: Could you put 2 stripes in a ring pattern around the tail? They continue the black spots you started. I also noticed with other Gund tigers that the ring was painted at a slight angle or sprayed as 2 “halves”, not a straight ring that looked like a raccoon’s tail. (pics) I know that there was more black at the tip of the tail, but I don’t think the whole tip was black.

Back Leg: I’ve continued your 3 spots into stripes.

Body: I’ve added 2 stripes, but if you will notice stripe #2 is in the shape of a ‘V”. (I remember this detail as a child) The stripes do NOT have to line up with the fabric underneath. They didn’t before. :D

Face: I’ve added a short stripe above Stripes’ right eye. This detail always gave him a slight serious look without being mean. (not a lot of slant to the line, if any) I have always loved this detail about him. And I’ve elongated the stripe on his forhead.

Beth, I’m pretty sure we will be adding some more stripes to the back, especially his head but I thought we might tackle this bit first.

She closed with:

Again, I just absolutely can’t thank you enough for your beautiful and loving work on my best friend. I have been showing people the before and after pics for the last 5 hours. I’m so happy!!!

So back to drawing stripes on Stripes I went. Here are the next batch of photos:

Stripes person was thrilled:

Stripes looks spectacular!! I mean he is just awesome with the stripes that you’ve filled out.

She wanted just one more stripe. She sent a photo, but it was in another format, so I won’t put it here, but she also described what she wanted very well:

So I just have 1 more stripe for you. If you look at my pic, you will see that I’ve drawn a line over the small black dot that is on his forehead. In the last pic you sent me you can still see that it’s just a spot and not a stripe. Could you lengthen that spot into a stripe for me?

Please note the position. When you are seated facing Stripes, this stripe includes/starts at the black spot and runs towards the right. You have a pretty stripe that’s higher on the head already placed on the left so this one goes off to the right and is the same length as that one.

Adjustment made, I sent another photo (you can see the printout with her line instruction next to him):

Her response:

Perfection Achieved! I’m so so happy!!!! How many exclamation points can I put in an email to show you how perfect Stripes is!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Stripes got packed up and headed home to a grateful human and snake. Here he is at home with his pal, RedEye:

His person was soooo happy! She wrote a very long thank you, with a history of Stripes and RedEye, and I don’t want to edit it, so I’m copying it entirely here for you to read. But you can skip it if you want and just know she was happy!

Hi Beth,

Sit back and relax. This may be a little bit of a long happy read. :D Please feel free to use any content or pics from my emails for your blog.

I waited anxiously for Stripes to arrive. Yes, my husband signed for the box and I couldn’t wait to get home!

And so the moment has arrived. I brought Stripes best friend Redeye in from the bedroom to help me open the package. We open, I close my eyes dig in past the packing peanuts and pull out our best friend. Oh My Goodness! He is beautiful! bright! and colorful! He practically glows! I see his face. Yes, yes! It’s Stripes! I see the same face I’ve gazed into and loved for 50 years. And that’s when the tears start. Crying, mouth open in shock but my husband says he’s never seen me happier. ..After many long years, I can finally cuddle my friend again.

Beth you have given me back something I thought I would never have again. I love Stripes so, but I couldn’t, didn’t dare to pet him or cuddle him. I had to be so gentle, so afraid that I was doing more damage to him. But now all that is over! I can sleep with my buddy by my side. I can take him on vacations again! I’m tearing up just writing this. I can’t express my joy…absolute joy over the work you have done. Stripes looks like a beautiful and bright toy again. Thank you Beth. Thank you so very much.

…And I’ll be sending Redeye to you some time in February. I’ll be sure to email you first to start the process.

And here’s a little history about Stripes. Stripes was a Christmas present in 1969. I have always loved tigers and I was in deep love the moment I saw him. He has enjoyed play tea parties with me, and watched drive-in movies sitting in the back window. He has looked over the candy hauls that I collected during Halloween and been in a beautiful oak tree during the crisp dry autumn. (Carefully placed on a towel, but he needed to experience a tree. He is a tiger after all.) He has been with me in Japan for a year and traveled all over the US northwest looking out of a train window. And he has done all these things with Redeye by his side.

--But let’s face the facts, in the last few years my friend was disappearing before my eyes. There was good fortune that his seams were okay but the fur was coming off. His stripes were completely gone in areas. He was looking more yellow everywhere. And I dared only to pat him. That’s when I began to search for help to restore my friend and so I found Realms of Gold on the internet.

Beth has been wonderful, corresponding with emails and working out details by sending pictures back and forth. She listened to my input and was absolutely amazing at applying the stripes in the right places. We actually discussed exactly where to put them. :D I trust Beth’s skills so much that I will be sending Stripes best friend Redeye along soon. He was amazed and so happy with Stripes look, that he can’t wait to go to Realms of Gold!

Okay Beth, this may be a little serious but I wanted to express my honest feelings, and let you know why this has been so important to me.

With my 2 stuffed animals loosing hair and looking tired a sobering thought occurred to me. If something happened to me, what would happen to them? We have no children to give them to. We can’t donate them because being so worn out, no one would take them. And the thought that they might end up in a garbage bin was too much. Of course for me, my goal was to pet, play and enjoy them again. That goes without saying. But now, seeing Stripes beautiful bright colors, I am happy and secure in knowing that years from now, I can donate or will him to a children’s home where he will continue to be loved. (I have several friends who grew up in orphanages and we think it’s a wonderful idea.)

Thank you so much Beth!!!!!!

I don’t know about all of you, but that made me smile all day. :-)

#stuffed animal repair #stuffed animal hospital #stuffed animal cleaning #stuffed animals #tigers #tiger #stuffed animal tiger #toy tiger

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hopeymchope · 3 years ago

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Judging the Danganronpa x Sanrio character pairings

You may have already heard that a DANGANRONPA X SANRIO line of crossover merch was announced a few days ago! Which is obviously AMAZING, because they’re combining cutesy characters that have often been marketed to wee children with everybody’s favorite murderdeathkill game! I LOVE IT.

I have a niece who went through a Sanrio/Hello Kitty phase, so I actually know a few of these characters. In turn, this means that I have THOUGHTS on how the DR1 and Sanrio cast were paired up.

Granted, I still had to look up a lot of these guys and read about them. But now I feel adequately educated to the point where I can judge just how well the Danganronpa and Sanrio pairings actually match up.

Makoto Naegi/Cinnamoroll - Obviously this totally works because Makoto IS something of a cinnamon roll, eh? EH? But Cinnamoroll is said to be shy albeit still very friendly. He also likes to seek out fun new adventures. So, aside from “very friendly,” I’m not sure that this sounds like Makoto. I also doubt that calling a character a “cinnamon roll” is common slang in Japan. So this is whatever.

Sayaka Maizono/Wish Me Mell - Mell has the power to connect people’s hearts by simply stating the feelings they keep inside. She was initially withdrawn and believed she didn’t have any friends, but the people who cared for her finally broke through her shell and convinced her that she DOES have friends. So uh, Maizono... I guess music can also bring out people’s feelings? And perhaps you could plausibly HC that Sayaka has often felt like her surrounding friends were “fake” and only there because of her celebrity status. There’s not really much to go on here.

Leon Kuwata/Tiran - Tiran is an orange T-rex that is said to be scatterbrained but still a strong and reliable leader. Meanwhile, Leon has orange hair, and he’s certainly strong and kind of scatterbrained sometimes. It sorta works.

Kyoko Kirigiri/Marroncream - Marroncream is bright, positive, and fashionable. She is talented at making crafts and sweets. She lives in Paris. She has nearly nothing in common with Kyoko, although Kyoko did live abroad a lot in her younger years. So I could try to latch onto the Paris thing.

Hifumi Yamada/Pokopon - Pokopon is a raccoon that loves to read but dislikes ghosts and “the thunder god.” (uh... what?) He also finishes his sentences with the unusual suffix “-das.” Of course, Hifumi loves to write (which certainly is connected to reading), and he likes to end all names with a weird suffix (”-dono”), so I can see how they might make a cute pair.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru/Pekkle - Pekkle is a duck who is good-natured and kind. He loves to sing and dance. It kind of sounds like he should’ve been matched with Sayaka, but instead he’s here with Taka. While Ishimaru is definitely a good person, I don’t think most people would immediately describe him as “kind.” And he certainly isn’t known for his love of music.

Yasuhiro Hagakure/Monkichi - Monkichi is a laid-back, easygoing guy who is upbeat and loves puns. His dream is to become a poet. It’s said that once he sets his mind on something, there is no stopping him! And in comparison, Hagakure is... well, he’s kind of laid-back in the sense that he’s kind of lazy? But he’s actually pretty high-stress a lot of the time, too. Honestly, there’s not much linking the two.

Chihiro Fujisaki/Kurousa and Shirousa - Shirousa is the white one and is the older sibling to Kurousa, the brown one. Shirousa is described as an energetic leader and Kurousa is described as being nice but lazy. They like to make cakes. What does any of this have to do with Chihiro? Beats me. This particular pairing is nonsense.

Byakuya Togami/Badtz-Maru - Badtz-Maru is said to have a bad attitude and dreams of being “the boss of everything” when he grows up. He tends to act a bit selfish, and he mocks things he dislikes/disagrees with. He enjoys expensive food and collecting photos of movie villains. With the exception of that last point, I’d have to say that this sounds like a near-perfect match for Togami.

Mondo Owada/Goropikadon - The Goropikadon are a group of cave boys whose actual names are Goro (blue hair), Pika (pink hair), and Don (teal hair). Goro is always hungry and joking around. PIka is a thoughtful, shy mama’s boy. Don is serious and places a high value on honesty. Overall, I suppose that how quick Mondo is to get angry and resort to violence kind of makes him seem like a stereotypical caveman? But in terms of their distinct personalities, only Don’s focus on honesty rings true for Mondo.

Toko Fukawa/Lloromannic - Another multi-character one. The Llormannic are a pair of creatures named Berry (the black one, who is male) and Cherry (the pink one, who is female). They are mischievous and love to play pranks on humans. Cherry was originally alone and created Berry for companionship; however, she mixed up her magic spell ingredients and used salt when she meant to use sugar, which resulted in Berry turning out to be a more hostile being than Cherry. I suppose the fact that Berry is a darker creation of Cherry’s sort of reflects the relationship between Toko and her other self, Genocide(r) Syo/Jack. However, Berry and Cherry are still best friends. Toko and Syo/Jack are definitely not that.

Celestia Ludenberg/Kuromi - Kuromi is the rival of a bunny named “My Melody” who doesn’t appear in this promotion. Kuromi is said to look “tough and punk” in her jester’s hat with the pink skull on it, but in reality she is very girly. She enjoys writing in her diary, reading romance books, cooking, and checking out good-looking guys. I suppose Celestia did have that dream of living in a mansion where she was served by handsome guys dressed as vampires? So... they both like hot guys? But that’s all I’ve got here. Pretty sure this pairing only exists for aesthetic reasons. And admittedly, their aesthetics mesh very well.

Aoi Asahina/Keroppi - Keroppi lives with his family on the edge of Donut Pond. He is bubbly, a fantastic swimmer and, because of the name of his home pond, is often associated with donuts and/or things that are donut-shaped. Ok, so this was an obvious pairing, then. They nailed it. Probably the single best pairing they came up with.

Sakura Ogami/My Sweet Piano - Yes, the character’s name is literally “My Sweet Piano.” She’s described as soft, kind, and girly. Given Sakura’s secret love of girly things, I can see how this soft, pink, girly sheep would be something she’d love to be around.

Junko Enoshima (...?)/Hello Kitty - Hello Kitty (a.k.a. Kitty White) is described by Sanrio as “cute, bright, sweet, kind-hearted and tomboyish.” They also say that Kitty is very close with her sister, Mimmy. As for Junko... look, the only reason I think maybe this is supposed to be Junko is because Mukuro already has her own Sanrio matchup (see the next entry), but in terms of her appearance, this “Junko” sure looks like it’s “Junkuro.” The telltale sign is that giant bow on the left side of the head, which only Mukuro-as-Junko has ever worn. I doubt we’re supposed to be thinking that they did two Mukuros in two different outfits, though?

It’s like this: If it’s Junko, well, I guess both Junko and Kitty are icons within their respective brands. And Junko tries to put on a “cute and bright” exterior persona, I guess? But that’s pretty thin. On the other hand, if this is Mukuro in disguise, this is actually a semi-decent matchup! Mukuro is arguably tomboyish and certainly very close to her sister (at least from her own perspective), so these two are not without their parallels.

In either case, both Kitty and the Unknown Despair Sister have a big bow on the left side of their head. Which I think is the real reason they’ve been paired, honestly.

Mukuro Ikusaba/Little Twin Stars - Kiki and Lala are a pair of twins that were born on December 24th. Mukuro is one half of a pair of twins ALSO born on December 24th. Instant connection! Kiki (the blue-haired boy) loves fishing and inventing things. He is curious and cheeky. Lala (the pink-haired girl) loves drawing, writing poems, and cooking. She is rather timid. In short, the “twins with the same birthdate” thing is the only thing connecting Mukuro to these two. Still, it’s not bad.

Also, the most amazing thing to come out of this team-up so far HAS TO BE MonoKitty. Hello Kitty cosplaying as our favorite psychotic MurderBear? How great is that? SELL ME MERCH OF MONOKITTY.

#sanrio #danganronpa x sanrio #sanrio characters #danganronpa merch #hello kitty #danganronpa crossovers #danganronpa official art

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mimisempai · 3 years ago

Text

While Thor was sleeping - Chapter 4/12

Summary:

Mobius gets to know Thor's family and Loki arrives while almost everyone is asleep.

Notes:

Loki makes his entrance...

"Wow thank you Frigga and Odin!" exclaimed Sif as she pulled a finely forged sword from its holster.

Mobius had learned that Sif was 23 years old and the youngest of the children Odin and Frigga had taken in. However, that didn't stop her from already being a strong, determined woman who wasn't afraid to assert herself.

Odin grumbled in his corner, "Girls shouldn't like this kind of weapon."

Frigga answered him in a tone of voice, "They do now, and our Sif collects them and is an expert in wielding each one. Right, honey?"

Sif nodded and pulled the sword from its holster with a sure hand before making a few graceful and precise movements that left no doubt about her ability to wield this kind of weapon. Then she sheathed the sword and put it carefully aside before handing out the presents that were under the tree.

Mobius was sitting in an armchair and watching the gift distribution with attention.

He had also met the trio of boys, who called themselves the Warrior three and who, according to Valkyrie, were inseparable, especially when it came to doing some trouble. Mobius had had the opportunity to talk with them, and he could see that, like Valkyrie and Sif, they were quick-witted, fun-loving and kind young people. It was amusing to see all this little family articulate, with Odin wanting to play the role of patriarch, but mostly being ignored, while everyone visibly turned to Frigga who seemed to be the real pillar of the family. Mobius was pulled from his thoughts by Sif's voice, "For Mobius, from Santa."

Mobius looked up abruptly as he was so surprised and took the gift from Sif's hands as Valkyrie handed him another one and said softly, "Merry Christmas Mobius."

Mobius took the second gift and placed it on his lap with the first, waiting a little while to enjoy the moment and make the surprise last. It had been so long since he had received a gift. He looked around. Everyone was opening gifts, laughing, exchanging jokes, and he was one of them. Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes. Above the fireplace, there was a row of stockings hanging and the last one on the right had Mobius' name on it. As if he belonged to the family.

Belonging. It's been so long. He hardly remembered the Christmases with his mother and father.After his mother's death, it was just him and his father and finally just him, alone. So, since he didn't know what the future would bring, he decided to enjoy all those moments and store them in his mind for when he was alone again.

**********

A little later, the atmosphere was relaxed, there were pieces of wrapping paper everywhere on the floor. Odin and the trio of boys were playing Uno by the fireplace and from the look on Odin's face, he was getting beaten to a pulp. Frigga was embroidering on the couch, smiling sporadically at the boys' antics, and Sif had pulled out her sword again and was twirling it around in excitement.

Christmas carols were playing softly from the family's old fashioned sound system.

Mobius, who was wearing a new sweatshirt, admittedly ugly, but like everyone else in the room, was turning the pages of an old photo album. Valkyrie, sitting on the arm of the chair, commented on each photo with humor and affection. Mobius stopped at the photo of a little blond boy, unmistakably Thor, posing very proudly.

"That's when he had saved a baby raccoon."

"How?"

"He was playing in the forest when he found it, lost all alone.He even fed it with an eye dropper, and called it his sweet rabbit."

Frigga interjected, "He's a good boy, look, he gave us this beautiful fruit basket for Christmas." She pointed to the fruit basket on the dinner table, "He knows I love fruit, especially strawberries. Those melted like honey in your mouth. I don't have to tell you what strawberries cost this time of year."

Odin looked up from his cards and added, "He's some kid."

For the first time Mobius had a negative thought for Thor, if he was such a good boy he would have visited his family for Christmas instead of sending them an informal fruit basket. But who was he to judge, he who had no family left. He decided to leave this path of thoughts aside and concentrate on the present and continued to browse through the album and chat happily with Valkyrie.

*********

Much later, all the lights were off. Mobius was sleeping on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. The photo album was on the coffee table next to it.

The faint sound of a door opening was heard. Mobius stretched and opened his eyes, alerted by the noise.

A man tiptoed past the sofa without noticing anything and Mobius said nothing.

The man hung up his coat and went to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator as the kitchen lit up while a voice whispered, "At 40, you're still sneaking around like a teenager coming home late from his first party, Loki?"

Loki turned abruptly and found himself facing Valkyrie who closed the kitchen door behind her.

Loki just waved his hand with the expression of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Valkyrie resumed, a mocking smile on her lips, "Everyone's already asleep."

Loki retorted, "I'll see them all tomorrow at breakfast."

"Thor is in the hospital."

Loki became serious again and replied, "I know, I was just there. He looked fine even though he's unconscious."

Valkyrie nodded, "The doctors say he could wake up at any moment."

She shook her head in the direction of the floor where Odin and Frigga slept, "Who knows? Maybe they can make up."

Loki shrugged, "They both have strong characters and Odin may be my adoptive father, but... um the day he takes out the stick he has... well, you know what I mean."

Valkyrie nodded, "Just because your family has been good to me doesn't mean I don't see their flaws." She winked at him before adding, "Nor yours and what you hide."

Loki looked innocent and ignoring the hint, he reached into his pocket and said, "You'll be the first to get your present then, Merry Christmas."

He handed her a tiny gift. Valkyrie tore the paper, inside was a box with the name Pegasus written on it and inside was a small device, Valkyrie looked at it and then looked at Loki, bewildered.

Loki replied playfully, "It's an anti-theft device."

"For what?"

"For a bike." Loki replied as mischievously as ever.

Valkyrie exclaimed without shouting, "A bike? Where?"

"I made a special deal with the store. They keep it aside all winter and all I do is give them a little money every month. I told them we would pick it up in the spring." Loki pulled out a piece of magazine and showed her, "That's the one, I got it in blue but you can pick any color you want. It's part of the deal."

"You know I prefer blue, so this is perfect."

Valkyrie hugged Loki and whispered, "Thank you Loki. I hope one day Odin will see how special you are. You are a good person."

Loki, embarrassed by the thanks and compliments, coughed and said softly, "We better get to bed, before the cavalry comes and I have to hand out the rest of the gifts."

Valkyrie laughed silently as they walked out of the kitchen.

They were about to walk through the living room, but as Loki was about to flip the light switch, Valkyrie whispered, "Wait, don't wake Mobius up."

Loki stopped and Valkyrie pointed at the bundle on the couch, though Loki couldn't make out anything in the dark.

He asked confused, "Who is Mobius?"

Valkyrie dragged Loki toward the stairs and whispered, "Mobius is going to marry Thor. He's his fiancé, Loki."

Loki stopped as Valkyrie continued to pull him.

"He's not Thor's fiancé."

As he walked up the stairs, Loki kept whispering to himself, "Who the hell is Mobius?"

Mobius, who had straightened up, was wide-eyed with shock, realizing that the man was the brother he had heard about who should have been there tonight, Loki. All chapters

Still not beta’d

Still not my native language

Still hoping you’ll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Lokius masterlist : here

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jwood719 · 2 years ago

Photo

“The Third Batch:” Putnam and Parke County.

The Covered Bridges of Parke County, Indiana: Parke County claims to have the largest collection of covered bridges still extant in the country -- a whopping 31 -- perhaps the largest still-standing in one county in the world. I’ve looked at Parke -- and other counties -- on the map, and noted the many icons indicating covered bridges:

and after the first six, I’ve just kept on going. Maybe I’ll get to all of them, maybe not, but we’ll see. And not just in Parke County, either, so on this trip, I visited four that were in neighboring Putnam County, before moving on to two within Parke.

Rural view south of Crawfordsville: a pause to take in the day and the sky.

The sky was of an amazing depth and color at mid-day -- a blue-violet that a photo can’t really do justice for -- but I’m posting a photo of it anyway. Moving right along into a nearly perfect day for roaming --

Y’say you want a sign?

Beginning in Putnam County with Cornstalk Bridge, then a cluster farther south in, or near, the state’s Big Walnut Nature Preserve. As I neared Cornstalk Bridge, I saw a by-now familiar roadside marker: the bridge height/weight sign.

At more than one intersection, seeing a posted notification like the one above has answered the question of “Which way do I go here?” ‘cause it’s like, y’know, a sign! But seriously, seeing one of these really does help.

County road next to Cornstalk Creek.

Cornstalk Bridge.

Even after seeing a number of bridges thus far, there’s still a little “Hey!” moment when the next one comes into view.

Cornstalk Bridge, western end.

Satisfaction at having managed the navigation, and a little joy at seeing another functional construct. Most of them have been functional at any rate.

Pine Bluff Bridge over Big Walnut Creek.

Not that my drive is without some turning around; road construction and variances between the map and the “real world” still contribute to minor frustrations.

Though it doesn’t show all that well in photos, the roads approaching many of the bridges are pretty steep.

Pine Bluff Bridge from below.

A trail beaten between the trees led down to Big Walnut Creek from a turn-out near the east end of the Pine Bluff; at a guess it allows for some creek bank- fishing, and probably some partying. Stepping down allowed me an easy view of the underside of the bridge, without having to stumble through any underbrush.

Pine Bluff Bridge structure, which I believe is of the Howe truss type, instead of the oft seen Burr truss.

Pine Bluff was the first I’ve seen that has posted notices that it’s closed during the winter, with gates to shut-off the road; given the steep grades on the approaches, I can imagine no county plow driver wanting to make the down hill run and then not get back out (I’ve no idea if a plow truck would fit through the bridge).

Rolling Stone Bridge over Big Walnut Creek.

Cox Ford Bridge over Sugar Creek may have a higher clearance, but there’s something about the steep drop to Big Walnut under the Rolling Stone Bridge that allows for some visual drama, at least as seen above.

Rolling Stone and Big Walnut Creek.

Rolling Stone was the first I’ve seen where the ends of the structure were canted outward to extend the roofline (as seen below); most are just vertical.

Rolling Stone, Big Walnut Creek, and, beyond the trees, dramatic clouds, too (plus sunlit dust on the lens).

Bakers Camp Bridge allowed for no parking nearby.

Nearby landowners, I suppose, deterred bridge tourists with “no parking” signage, so I just did the “I”m not parking, I’m stopping” thing, long enough anyway to stick the camera out the window. Fortunately there wasn’t any traffic.

Big Walnut Creek from Bakers Camp Bridge -- yep, just stopped in the middle of the bridge.

From Big Walnut Creek I went west, finally entering Parke County to find the old State Sanatorium Bridge:

State Sanatorium Bridge, now over Little Raccoon Creek.

Sanatorium, as has happened to several of the county’s bridges, was moved from its original location. According to the history supplied by Parke County, the bridge was funded, built, and owned by the state to ensure delivery of coal to the state tuberculosis sanatorium in the early 1900s. That it was moved to its current location in 2009 probably accounts for its very good condition and these massive concrete footers:

no doubt to ensure that they remain in sound condition for the foreseeable future. The crossing at Sanatorium featured an alternative means of getting over the water: a ford right next to the bridge (as seen in the first photo at the top of the post).

View of the State Sanatorium and Little Raccoon from the nearby ford, though here it’s a low-water bridge.

I noted the adjacent alternative to the covered bridge when I looked at the location on Google satellite, but in that view it wasn’t clear that the low-water bridge was, in fact, a low-water bridge. It just looked like a bridge, but given the restrictions of the interior of the covered route, I imagine larger farm equipment needing another way to get through.

View looking west through State Sanatorium.

I was fair taken with the location of Sanatorium, with the pleasantness of the day an’ all, but it was at the last bridge that I could happily have just sat and enjoyed the afternoon. Well, I did, too, but only for about fifteen minutes.

The Portland Mills Bridge (west end above, also over Little Raccoon Creek) also has a ford adjacent, though this was a proper ford: no low-water bridge, just a bump down into the creek:

Little Raccoon Creek: ford by Portland Mills Bridge, with my battered saloon in the shade. No, I didn’t drive through the water -- though I did think about it for, like, two seconds.

Portland Mills features horizontal cladding instead of the vertical planks that are the usual:

as can be seen above and in the photo at the top of the post. The ford through the creek also allowed for, as with Pine Bluff and Sanatorium bridges, ease of viewing of the underside -- a nice change from the typical end or through shots.

Little Raccoon Creek from Portland Mills Bridge; truly a lazy river if ever there was one.

At Portland Mills I glanced at the map to find a route homeward, then just enjoyed the day for a bit (snack, coffee, deep breath). Probably I wouldn’t care much for being out there if the snow was blowing, but who knows? Maybe I would.

View across the creek valley on a near perfect afternoon from the bridge approach.

BUT there were miles to go, as the poem has it, so after that pause in the roaming, I headed on.

R. Jake Wood, 2022.

Portland Mills Bridge, east face.

#photography #roadtrips #Parke County covered bridges #closer-to-home #indiana

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lordbhreanna · 3 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday on a Sunday

So @whatsarasaid tagged me to post a WIP snippet, and it’s a good excuse to post another sneak peek for what I’ve been writing for moments of truth. Since Sara tagged me, I went with a little scene between Jill and Carlos 💙

Sweat glistens on her forehead, as she reaches with her thin arms to grab a heavy-looking tin container sitting on top of the shelf. A collection of cardboard boxes, VHS cases and potted plants gathers around her, and she kicks one by accident when the sudden weight throws her slightly off balance. She curses under her breath, placing the container down beside the other cardboard crate, and stops for a moment to catch a break, surveying the living room. The good news is, Carlos isn’t big on hoarding, so there’s not much work left. The bad news is, once you empty every closet and shelf in a home, junk starts to pile up no matter how frugal you have been—and now the whole flat is upside down.

She is distracted enough, making a mental note of what she should attack next, when the papery sound of a washed-yellow envelope dropping from the upper shelf startles her. When it reaches the floor, a cloud of dust rises in the air and gets into her nostrils, making her sneeze and cough at the same time. Sniffling, Jill covers her nose with the sleeve of her shirt and gets down to pick the thin parcel. With the back of her hand, she wipes away some of the remaining dust and her gaze lands on the fading stamp located in the middle.

A sharp breath breaks from her mouth at the sight of the UBCS’ logo. Jill frowns, mostly because Raccoon City’s destruction anniversary was about a week ago and every year everything conspired to remind her of the date—as if she could stop remembering it on her own.

“Hey, Carlos,” she calls across the room. Carlos’ head pops up from behind a towering pile of boxes, where he had been folding clothes and packing them diligently. “I found something.”

Jill waves the parcel, standing up on her two legs again. His brow frowns, a confused look painted over his face.

“What’s that?” he asks. Jill hands it to him. His eyes open up, mouth gaping, with the envelope firmly caught between his fingers. “Holy shit. I was sure I had lost this.”

Jill rubs her hands clean on her pants, leaving a trail of powdery dirt on the jeans, and closes the distance between her and Carlos, peeking at the yet closed package.

“What is it?”

His fingers delve inside and, when his hand comes out, there is a stack of printed papers, all attached together by a flimsy clip.

“My UBCS contract, and performance report,” he explains, skimming at the documents. “Shit, I didn’t even know I had it at my old place. Thought I left it behind on bootcamp. That means…” He gives the envelope a shake and a couple of photos drop on his palm. “Jackpot.”

One of them is a group photo of all the recruits, not unlike the one she remembered hanging on the STARS office. The soldiers were lined up, with the name of their platoon written in pen on a corner. This looks like the official photo that would go into the service’s records.

(It’s impossible not to see him there, even though she has barely glanced over the picture. The tall figure of Nicholai stands rigidly, hands clasped behind him and shoulders rolled back, in line with the other soldiers. She deliberately avoids gazing over more than necessary—and she clears the itch in her throat. Carlos doesn’t even notice.)

The second photo, though, is nothing like it—and it wrigs a sad smile out of her, once she realises who the photographed people are.

Inside a white polaroid frame, Carlos beams a smile to the camera from the photo, while Tyrell Patrick looks away, his friend’s arm squeezed around his neck, with an expression that says he’s tolerating this because Carlos is his friend.

“Poor T, I bullied him into getting this. For the good times in training, I said,” he huffed, melancholy and regret mixed in his tone. “Murphy, he took the photo—had just got out of jail and was overly excited, but a good kid anyway. Don’t think you ever met him.”

Jill bites her lips, nails sinking into the skin of her wrists as she holds her arms around her chest. It pains her, but she doesn’t have it in her to lie when she can offer Carlos this bit of truth, at least.

“I did, actually.”

“Seriously?” Carlos’ gaze jumps from the picture to her, quite surprised.

Jill nods.

“When I went to repair the substation. Found him in a garage, and he had been injured. Bitten, probably.” Her gaze drops, lips curled down. Her wrists hurt from her grip. “Nicholai shot him dead.”

“Of course the fucker did,” Carlos groans, with a caustic smile and a shake of his head. “At least he went to hell with the city, for all we know.”

In reply, Jill simply hums something that is neither a yes or a no, and clears her throat.

#resident evil #like oil and water #wip wednesday #tagged

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saint-patrice · 5 years ago

Photo

thank you @kureally!💛

pretty surprised that this isn’t one i’ve done already, but the day has come and i would invite you all to join me in delving into some photos of the canadian hockey spectacle known as travis konecny!

see here for other posts like this one! i am also taking requests for ‘em :)

this photo is a good one to start with, as it provides the essential information you need to understand travis konecny as a person. apparently his brother calls him a “city slicker,” but this is him in his true form - in camo, with fishing equipment and associated fish, looking objectively pretty fucking bad. the comment is from his teammate and certified best bud nolan patrick, who we will discuss more later. additionally, his instagram account no longer exists because he is diametrically opposed to having a social media presence, and throws his phone in an ontario lake for 4 months every offseason. presumably.

in addition to all of that, he is pretty fucking good at hockey. and yes, this is the same person as above, this time looking rather nice and representing the philadelphia flyers at this year’s all star game

(via @jakeoettinger) from when he broke his tooth and we all were collectively screaming about it in our own unique ways until he got it fixed. this was right before the asg, and i remember the visceral fear that he might not do anything about it and we’d have to watch him do all the media stuff looking like a battle-scarred little rat. his fucking face, man

here he is, doing his very best impression of a cardboard cutout of himself. if you have any brain cells to spare, please send them philly-ward. this man is in dire need.

this is teeks with aforementioned Best Bud Nolan Patrick. this is a real photo of them at a real wedding (claude giroux’s, not their own), posted on nolan patrick’s real instagram, with the real caption “what a wedding date”. there is nothing else to be said.

although he is a great hockey player, tk has a reputation on the ice mainly for never shutting up. this is one of many instances of teeks running his little rodent mouth at the opposing team, and usually what he says makes little to no sense but we love to hear it anyway. the video of this is so delightful, i’d recommend giving it a watch

hockey talent must be inherent to the genome, as teeks is the second cousin of bo horvat (captain of the vancouver canucks). they are generally pretty different people but they look like two separate pieces of trash from the same dumpster here so… who’s to know?

(via @manybumblebees) travis’ draft report listed him at 5′10, and he has continued to be recorded as such throughout his career. however, as just about anyone with working eyesight will tell you, this is absolute fucking horseshit. oskar lindblom, with whom he is cellying here, is 6′1 for comparison. if that looks like a 3 inch height difference to you, i don’t know what to say

5′10 or not, he is - by his own admission - a pretty small guy, so you think he’d generally try to avoid physical altercations, or mess with people his own size. on the contrary! here he is, having the time of his life messing with 6′3, 215lb mikhail sergachev (tk listed at 175lb). fuck it, ragdoll mode engaged.

i wasn’t kidding about the brain cells - how do you lose your shoes on a plane!!!

(via @gabelandeskog) travis is the flyers’ “hockey is for everyone” ambassador this year, and this is him with pride tape on his stick for YCP warmies, which is like, real nice

can rats swim???

(via @chirpedtooth) another thing of note is that he is like…. too small for nhl equipment apparently?? and so he tapes his sleeves with stupid fucking orange tape to make sure they don’t get in the way of his little raccoon appendages. whatever works, man

look at this fancy little child in his pea coat facing some adverse weather conditions!!! pre-2016 travis konecny is never not funny

(via @callejarnkrok) despite his general shenanigans and tomfoolery, travis is perhaps a nice canadian boy at heart. here he is checking on nolan, who has been sidelined with a migraine disorder this season, at the team’s picture day. the more i think about it, the more this is unbearably fucking tender, actually. going to go lie down in a dark room about it. see y’all in a bit

this is his (nice? horrid? it’s up to you) little duck tattoo on his bicep. just thought this was important to include

this footage plagues my entire fucking existence. i measure my time in Before I First Witnessed This and After I First Witnessed This. it’s the last thing i think about at night and the first thing i think about every morning. and in between times, it frequently appears in my dreams. i cannot accurately verbalise how much i hate this

(via @for-that-cotton-candy) just gently skating up to your pal,, hip-checking your bud to let him know that you’re there because he can only see you when he’s looking down,,,, just letting him know that you’re there and you love him a whole lot,,,,,,,, that’s hockey, baby

some would describe his face as “highly expressive” or “easy to read,” but i personally think “malleable” might be more appropriate. here he is 😛✌🏻ing with teammates travis sanheim and shane gostisbehere

(via @phillymyers) is now a good time to mention that this little untoasted piece of bread didn’t know how to blow a kiss?

mandatory puppy photo!

(via @chirpedtooth) literally no idea what the fuck is going on here, all i know is that he is wearing a pink scrunchie on his wrist, and that it is an awful lot to deal with

and that, my friends, is a brief introduction to travis konecny! i hope you enjoyed this in one way or another, and if you are currently thinking “i don’t get why everyone likes him” - just give it 3 weeks of mild to moderate exposure to tk content. you’ll see.

#travis konecny #philadelphia flyers #konecny #flyers #flyers photo compilations #**#100 #links either go to news articles or videos on youtube or the nhl site #although the one abt the wedding photo goes to patty's ig post #please lmk if there's anything wrong w this bc i am hell for making mistakes in these and not noticing #thank you luna!!!#oh yea the uncredited gif is my own btw

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otherworldly-healer · 4 years ago

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Challenge Part 2 [The Sage Family Reunion] [~2770 Words]

The group ventured into the forest, the fog becoming ever more dense as they walked forward. This was the direction that Raine had been told the couple was spotted. Still, it had been a few days since that had been reported around town. They could be anywhere in the Mistwood by now. Their only hope was to shout out into the trees, looking for wanderers. Every now and again they would see a creature made of mist and skeletal remains far off in the distance, watching, almost as if it was waiting for the perfect time to strike. The group had fought off some weaker mist creatures already, about the size of a common raccoon. They were easy enough to scare away with their weapons alone, as well as some of the Monster Warding potions that Raine had brought along. She knew there were more coming though. It was only a matter of time.

After two hours of walking, the group had traveled southbound. Someone finally called out in the distance. The professor and her companions walked in the direction of the voices. Raine knew immediately that it was them. Even after so many years, she remembered the sound clear as day. Once her memories returned to her at the Otherworldly Gate she was sure that she would never forget that sound again. Her father reassuring her everything would be alright as long as they were together. Her mother gently chiding her when she asked for too much, or complained that they could not just find a new, safer place to live. Both of them calling her name to gather her belongings so they could continue walking alone through the wilderness.

When the Sages were finally in their sights, Virginia had been sitting on the ground nursing a bandaged cut on her arm, and Kloitz was kneeling down beside her, tensely looking around to make sure that no monsters were lurking about. He looked tired, as if he had been awake for days. Thinking back on it now, that’s how she ultimately remembered her father in his last months. He was run ragged, always making plans for their next escape, and always on watch for the family’s safety. As much as he tried to hide his worry at that time, a child could always tell when secrets were being kept from them.

Raine frowned, turning back to Lloyd and the others calmly, she asked each of them if they could hang back for a moment so that she might speak to them alone. This was something she had been needing to do for a long time. As fate would have it in her own world she would never get that opportunity…but perhaps here the Stars had actually granted her something of a gift. What Raine had been searching her whole life for—answers.

After two years past meeting with her mother, Raine had already stitched closed some wounds in her heart. She knew where she came from now. Genis told her himself that she was nothing like her mother--a fear that tugged at her ever since her memories had returned. Even through all the hardships they had gone through: homelessness, hunger, the distrust of humans, and finally finding a home of their own, her brother still looked up to Raine. While she still couldn’t forgive her parents for abandoning her and heart felt heavy seeing them together once again, she was not shedding any tears immediately upon seeing them. The night before she had braced herself for this meeting. She hardened her heart once again. Raine remembered that day in Exire, where she couldn’t control her emotions and all she could do was cry and scream, so bitter, angry, and heartbroken at the sight of her mother. But now it was different.

Today, the half elf felt melancholy and pity for her parents. Here were two people that tried so desperately to do the best that they could for their children, doomed in every timeline to a tragic end. They never got to live their happily ever after, growing old together in peace. Instead, they traded everything to make sure that their kids didn’t end up as slaves. Now that she had taken a step back to think about it…their choice was completely selfless. There were still holes missing in the story, and perhaps they could grant her some clarity. After reading her mother’s diary, the woman could no longer feel the fury she once did.

Kloitz rose to his feet as his daughter approached. His eyes studied his daughter a look of shock and denial first crossing his features. He looked between Raine and Virginia, voice caught in his throat, and when he finally spoke, there were tears in his eyes. This was the greatest gift Kloitz would be given in life— the knowledge that his daughter would grow up and the world would not completely break her. There was a light on the other side of the darkness. “Raine…is that you? You’re…you’re all grown up. You look just like your mother.”

Those words still stung to hear. Raine did not want to look in the mirror and see Virginia, but she had to admit that both of the siblings had taken after her appearance much more than their father’s. Raine tried to hold it together, giving Kloitz a shaky smile as he rushed over to wrap his arms around her. As soon as he did, Raine couldn’t help but shed a few tears of her own. Even though she had prepared herself for this moment, it still wasn’t easy to keep herself collected. “Yes, father…It’s me. Genis is here with me too, safe and sound. He’s twelve now. He likes playing with kendamas just like mother always did. He even got accepted into the best school in the country.” Raine pulls out her phone and navigates over to her photos, bringing up a picture of both siblings taken at an ice cream stand here in the city.

Kloitz was overwhelmed, and Virginia rose to place her hand on her daughter’s back to look. Raine winced, attempting to hide a scowl, ultimately feeling guilty for her hesitance towards her mother’s touch. Right. She had spent the last two years—more than that now in Spirale—coming to terms with her anger. If there was anyone she should be angry at, it was the Imperial Research Academy. They were ultimately the cause of this family’s destruction. It would take even more time for Raine to accept that, but for the moment she could at least try to set aside her feelings. They didn’t have much time here. It was dangerous. She would have to get to the point.

“And you? What have you been doing in all this time?” Virginia asked.

“I am...a teacher. Just a teacher in a small village.” The full truth was too fantastical. She really didn’t see herself how the world did, anyway, and so she kept it to herself. But to her parents, Raine didn’t need to be a hero. They knew just how much she loved to learn and explore. The Sages immediately knew that her daughter was on a path that she chose herself, and in a profession she always would have wanted.

“We’ve been granted a little bit of time to talk, but when you last saw me I was only eleven. I bet you both want to get back to Tethe’alla, don’t you? …What was the last thing both of you remember?” Her parents looked at each other cautiously and then back to Raine.

“We were on the boat... It was storming on the sea. You had just gone overboard and we pulled you out. You were so shaken, and the boat was headed for safer waters. We were on our way to—huh, where was it again, honey?” Her father wore a nervous smile. Kloitz was trying his best to be positive, like he always had.

“Altamira.” Virginia piped up. Raine hung her head, still being held between both of her parents. They couldn’t even be honest with her now.

“Heh…right. Except we weren’t.” Raine’s expression soured. “Genis and I never got to see Altamira. You asked the ship captain to make a detour. We ended up at the Otherworldly Gate. Genis and I were sent through alone. Mother told me to hold him, and then sent us to go ‘play’ in the ruins. You knew it would take us to Sylvarant…except we never made it there together.” Kloitz and Virginia looked to the group behind her, as if asking silently whether it was alright to be having this conversation here and now. It’s not like she would ever get the chance again.

“Don’t mind them. They know about all of this… Mostly.” The half elf said sternly. Her mother shrank, seeing how severe her daughter had become over the years. She was no longer acting like the child she knew—mischievous and sneaky, joyful and always reassuring her mother that they would be alright, just like she was mimicking Kloitz. No…the world had changed her. In the end, Kloitz and Virginia could not protect her from hardship and suffering.

“Raine…we wouldn’t have done that if we thought there was any other way.” Virginia began crying, her head helplessly falling in her hands. “We got passage onto that ship in a hurry. It wasn’t even a passenger ship. The Research Academy found us in the forest and we were all so tired of running, even you. We could see it in your eyes, even if you wouldn’t tell us. You kept asking us if we would ever find a safe place and it broke our hearts. We wanted you to know a life where you didn’t have to run anymore. The full moon would line up with right when we got there, so we figured that there wouldn’t have been another opportunity we could find to see you to safety! We were going to go together!” Her mother exclaimed, hiccuping.

“Then…what happened?” Raine looked out into the distant fog, picking through her memories of that night. She remembered Virginia in front of her, just out of reach. But where was Kloitz at that time? Had he even made it onto the island? No… he was back on the ship. The Otherworldly Gate only activated for a moment on the full moon. So, if he hadn’t been with them to catch the portal… Kloitz would have been left alone in Tethe’alla. If Raine had Genis, at least none of the family would be truly alone. So…that’s what happened. Virginia didn’t want Kloitz to be left behind. He was her entire world. Raine gritted her teeth. She knew deep down she needed the answer to this question, as it had been nagging at her ever since she went to Welgaia. “D-do you ever regret having us? If we were never born, you would not have been chased by the Research Academy. You could have found another home. Father wouldn’t have had to—he…”

Raine could not finish the sentence. If the last thing that they remembered was the boat, they wouldn’t know that Kloitz would die. She wouldn’t ruin their last remaining month together by telling them of their fate. They could only be positive for so long without breaking down. When you’re a child most think that your parents are your heroes—infallible and always knowing what is best. What she learned from being something of a parent herself was that nobody really knew what was best. The truth was…Kloitz and Virginia had really thought this was their only choice. They were not all-powerful or omniscient. They were just…people. Afraid and full of uncompromising love. They were victims of fate just like the siblings were, and when Raine finally realized that…maybe she already had forgiven her parents. Raine stared at her boots. Deep down she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from them. Before she could see the look in her parents’ eyes, Kloitz brought her into a tight hug again. This time Virginia would join them in the embrace and Raine would not be able to to contain herself, shaking before crying into her father’s coat.

“Sweetie, we love you and your brother more than anything. It’s the world that’s wrong to hate you for your being born to us. We wouldn’t do a single thing different in our lives. Having you gave our lives meaning. You completed us by making us a family…and we’re so proud that it seems like you’ve found people that you care for as well, and who care for you in return.” Kloitz smiled widely, looking back at her team. He was sad to think that she would ever consider herself a burden to them, but he also understood that starting from birth, that is all that a half-elf is told from humans and elves. They’re scorned and ostracized and live in danger of being used as tools. Virginia took some tissues she had hoarded in her pocket and passed them around between the three Sages assuring Raine that she felt the same as her father did. “I wish we had more time to catch up, honey. But your mother and I have to make sure that you two make it to Sylvarant on time.”

At his last comment, Raine would only smile at him dismally. She didn’t want to tell her parents how much they struggled to survive on Sylvarant. It wouldn’t change what had happened in the past. Her life so far had already been set in stone, and no amount of wishing would change her life’s path. She heard what she needed to hear. They were loved. They did their best for their kids, even if there were any other options—for better or worse those actions when she was eleven turned her into who she was today. And finally…finally, she could see her mother as she remembered her. She recognized her daughter. She was still her mother, not the mother of some straw doll left behind in the girl’s belongings. After a couple of minutes Raine had been able to compose herself to a point where she could stand tall once again. She clears her throat.

“Now it’s my turn to protect you. With the help of my friends here.” She would introduce them all, being vague on how they each met. It was too much to go over, especially when there were monsters crawling about. “So…I imagine since you’re here in the Mistwood, this is where the Stars directed you to go?”

Kloitz bent down to the ground where they had originally been sitting. He pointed to a line that he had drawn in the dirt, and Raine leaned down to inspect it. This felt just like when she was a kid. They would often make games out of discerning animal tracks or identifying different herbs and plants. Now the stakes felt higher, but…maybe they always had been after all.

“If we walk past this line, these skeleton monsters made of mist will come after us, but behind this point we seem to be safe. It reminds me of Gaoracchia. Those monsters are how your mother got all scratched up there. Well-sort of. Someone fell down when one of them appeared and got scratched up by a rock. Then a hero swooped in to save the day.” Virginia huffed at her husband and placed her hands on her hips, not appreciating the playful critique of her reaction to almost being killed. Raine noted that her father had been wearing some leather armor underneath his jacket, and he had a sword at his hip, though knowing the Stars he had not been granted a very useful one. At least he knew how to protect himself. “We were told to go past the boundary of the forest. If you successfully brought us there, they would allow us to go back to our time.” Virginia clarified.

The half elf turned back towards her companions, feeling somewhat renewed and ready to take on the monsters. They were relying on her now. That’s right—she’d grown strong, reliable, and against all odds, capable of helping to save two entire worlds. Not bad for a girl who only ever dreamed of being a small town teacher! Raine dug her staff into the ground proudly, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Alright everyone. That’s enough of that. Gather round. I’ve got a plan.”

#isola challenge #challenge pt 2

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lachryphage · 4 years ago

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I collect National Geographics and one of my oldest ones -- from April 1964 -- has a delightful article on cats: “The Cats in Our Lives” by Adolph Suehsdorf, photographs by Walter Chandoha

the entire article is a gem, but I thought the section on breeds would be especially interesting to @pangur-and-grim or really anyone that wants to see how cat breeds have changed over the past 57 years.

below are the photos of the breeds and their variants, and the accompanying descriptions. this is very long but I’m not putting it under a cut because I am malicious lol

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Domestic Shorthair

interestingly, the author says that nearly all cats are this specific breed.

A free roamer and free breeder, it developed coats of many colors and patterns, such as the calico... Show standards of the Cat Fanciers’ Association recognize 20.

here are a couple examples of those variants, although they don’t appear to meet the standards listed with them:

Odd-eyed White must have one blue eye and one copper or deep orange eye. Her coat should be short, thick, even in texture, and pure white.

Tortoiseshell standard calls for a coat of black, orange, and cream. Nose should be half black, half orange; the eyes, copper. Males are extremely rare and usually sterile.

maine coons are included in this section -- despite the acknowledgement that they don’t have short hair.

Maine coon cat -- a variant Domestic and not a recognized breed -- exhibits long hair and long neck. Early (colonialist) Americans erroneously considered her a cross between cat and raccoon; experts now believe that she descended from wild tabbies with long-hair genes.

Persian

Pedigreed, pure-blooded, exotic breeds are catdom’s elite. Valued by exhibitors, or “the fancy,” no cat looks fancier than the Persian. Long glossy hair in 20 recognized colors, each color with a specific eye hue, gives the Persian a look of haughty languor. The standard for Persians calls for a chunky build, low on legs, deep in chest, massive across shoulders and rump.

unfortunately, between the crease and the glare, it was really hard to get a good photo of this striking image:

Here Voo Doo, the Black Persian grand champion owned by cat judge Richard Gebhardt exhibits the qualities demanded for the head... Voo Doo’s expression here belies his gentle disposition. Unlike most males, the seven-year-old cat is devoted to his kittens and takes an active hand in helping their mothers raise them.

Chinchilla Persians achieve an aristocratic look with pure-white coats so subtly tipped in black as to seem silver. Black rims accent blue-green eyes, lips, and nose, whose center is brick red. Tail should be “carried without a curve,” says the standard. “But,” counters the author, “the man doesn’t live who can tell a cat how her tail should behave.”

Blue Cream Persian and her Cream kit arrive for a show in a carrying case.

Siamese

Lithe and sinuous body in two-tone color, wedge-shaped head, and bright blue eyes distinguish the Siamese. The C.F.A. standard recognizes four colors -- Seal (black-brown), Blue, Chocolate, and Lilac -- for the points... Red points are also recognized by other associations.

These Seal Points, exhibiting the most popular color, show eyes conforming to the standard: “Almond shaped and slanting... in true Oriental fashion.”

Blue Point Siamese, grand champion Jezebelle, wears a coat of bluish white with points of the same shade of “definite blue, giving strong contrast of divided color.”

Lilac Point Siamese, champion Tai Shan, requires, for perfection, a body color of “glacial white.” Points, says the standard, should be “frosty gray with pinkish tone. Foot pads... mauve.”

Himalayan

Champion Goforth Tiara (right) and Blue Point Siamese differ in length of hair and color of masks. Seal Point Himalayan, a cross between Persian and Siamese, must show “conformation the same as for Longhairs,” says the standard. But it must also reveal “color and points the same as for Siamese, with the same color classes.”

Burmese

Mother and kittens reveal the Burmese to be compact and muscular... Their eyes glow a deep gold. Green eyes are a fault and blue eyes “outrageous enough to disqualify the cat”... The unique and wonderful color of the Burmese is a “rich, warm sable brown.” Coat is short, lies close, has a glossy sheen and satiny texture, Fastest growing in popularity among the Shorthairs, the Burm commands a handsome price.

Russian Blue

“Texture and appearance of the coat are the truest criteria of the Russian Blue,” says the standard in consideration of the fact that this cat’s fur is unlike that of any other breed and, in fact, closely resemble sealskin. Like seal, the Blue’s coat is short, thick, and very fine. It feels silky and has a distinct sheen.

Here Grigio, a Blue once owned by the photographer, exhibits the required broad face with nose longer than the Persian but shorter than the Siamese. Vivid green eyes are set wide apart and appear round, rather than almond shaped. Young cats have yellow eyes, which change with time... A highly intelligent cat, Grigio enjoyed jumping from one high stool to another in a graceful, arcing leap. Sometimes Mr. Chandoha held a hoop between the two stools, and the cat sailed through it. The performance made it appear that the owner had trained his Blue. “But that wasn’t true,” says Mr. Chandoha. “I just added the props for Grigio’s own act.” One day Grigio walked off the farm and disappeared from Chandoha’s life.

Abyssinian

A breed fast growing in popularity, the Abyssinian has been known for less than a century; England saw its first pair following a British campaign in Ethiopia in 1868.

These kitten exhibit coats that resemble those of wild rabbits. From a distance, the fur looks brown but actually is ticked... Kittens’ small neat feet make them appear to be standing on tiptoe, as the standard demands. Both wear a necklace of color high on the chest, a marking that is now being bred out of the blood line. If a necklace exists, it must show a break at the throat. Some ambitious exhibitors... “have been known to pluck hairs, to powder, dye, stain, or bleach out a necklace to meet standard.” Bars on the legs of these cats would also be considered a fault.

Manx

Lack of tail distinguishes the Manx. As the standard makes clear, “Tail-lessness must be absolute... There should be a decided hollow at the end of the backbone where, in the ordinary cat, a tail would begin.” The rump should be as round as a ball and supported by hind legs that are longer than the front one.

Grand champion Pola was the first White Manx to win that title. All colors are recognized for the breed, but they must be worn in a double coat.

Rex

Marcel waves rippling across the body and tail give this cat its unusual appearance. Although the Cat Fanciers’ Association has yet to recognize Rex, other groups have proclaimed it a breed and set up standards. The wavy coat should be the “texture of velvet pile,” and the head should exhibit a “Roman profile.” Ears should be “large and naked, set high on the head.”

A spontaneous mutation, the Rex is a one-in-a-million oddity found among Domestic Shorthair kittens. One was discovered in England, another in East Berlin. Both strains now are being bred in the United States. There are very few of them so far, however, and experts feel it will be years before they are well established.

------------------------

those are the breeds! there’s a ton more info in the article, including more details of each breed but those are the basics.

and now, because this post is already long enough, I will add a little more including,

a meme cat:

and a cat that reminds me of the infamous Pangur:

#long post #this is so heavily edited down there really is a ton of great info in the article #it even included outdoor cat discourse!!!! in the 60s!!!!!#cats #cat breeds #siamese cat #persian cat

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whumpiary · 4 years ago

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After literally a year and a day on the nose... here is The Present Timeline update. This piece was originally going to be a lot longer but it’s been split into two because it got Too Big.

Follows directly on from either here or here, which in themselves are companion pieces. Please be careful with earlier present timeline pieces! They’re early work and some may not have the best content warnings.

content warnings: brief gory descriptions of death, brief emeto mention, referenced drug abuse, referenced drugging.

Josiah is the first to move but Mal is the first to react. Before Cass has finished falling, he’s being cradled in Josiah’s arms and lowered to the floor. Before he’s fully lost consciousness Mal is moving in, grabbing his wrist to check for a pulse, pulling him into the recovery position with a gentle "On his side, mate."

Mal’s got that tense precision on his face he gets when there’s an unexpected problem, but Josiah doesn't seem surprised when Cass' body starts shuddering, shaking. Josiah mentions that it had happened once already a few days earlier and Mal’s explaining what they need to do in that soft voice that says everything’s handled, and Josiah’s eyes focused on Cass' face like he's checking for what went wrong in the creases of a frown, and both men are moving calmly through the motions to make sure the one on the floor is okay. And Lou… Lou is frozen.

She wants, desperately, to run. To leave. All she wants is to get out of here. But she's fucking frozen. Because Cass… he’s back. He's back and he… He's not meant to look like that. He's not meant to be…

God, Cass is meant to look rough and raw and lean, like he just crawled out of a dumpster after fighting a raccoon for the last bottle of booze in a bar that got shut down last month. He’s not meant to look neat. He’s not meant to look… well.

She wants to run. She wants to run. She wants to run.

He doesn't look like Cass. He looks like the person who'd play Cass in a movie. He looks like someone commissioned a painting of him by a very generous artist. He looks like he died and the person organising his funeral went to a lot of effort to make sure the photo on the invites was as innocent looking as possible

How could someone look cleaner and healthier but so much worse both at once?

"...ou. Lou. Love."

It's Mal's voice, calling her name, and she realises then that she's hyperventilating, blood rushing in her ears, world tilting.

She wants to run.

"Lou, we've got him. He's fine," Mal says gently, fixing her with that look. The Mal look. The everything's already handled look. Keep calm and carry on. "Go get some air."

She turns on her heel and is out the front door before he can even finish the sentence. She wants to run, she wants to run, she wants to run, but she's too familiar with panic to let it take her, to let it flood. She leans heavy on the banister of the front porch and breathes hard, hands wrapped behind her head.

Cass is not meant to look like that.

In the year and a bit he's been missing, gone, she'd imagined everything. She'd imagined him husked out and empty on a street corner, overdosed and drooling in a motel, body mangled on the side of a road. Bullets in his head. Knife in his gut. Bloated and drowned. Strangled and blue.

She'd never expected… Never thought… She'd never let herself believe he'd be fine.

She can hear Josiah and Mal's muffled voices through the wall, calm and stress like an easing tide between them as they discuss what to do.

She wants to run.

"He'll be fine," she hears Mal muttering. She can't hear Josiah at all. "He's going to be fine."

She wants to run.

She doesn't.

She throws up in the garden instead.

Mal finds Lou sitting with her head between her knees on the porch swing.

He doesn’t say anything.

As soon as he sits beside her, she's crumpled into his lap and it's only times like this that he remembers how damn little she is. She's usually half the size of whatever room she needs to fill. But curled into him and breathing deep, shaking out soundless little sobs from somewhere deep, she's exactly the size of her body. And it's almost hard to look at.

“He’s… Mal he’s alive,” she heaves. “He’s alive and he’s… He’s fucking fine.”

“If it makes you feel any better, love,” Mal murmurs against her back “I think he’s fairly far from fine.”

She buries her face in her arms, in his lap, “Good. I hope he’s fucking ruined. I hope he never gets better.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” she says, voice muffled. He rubs his thumb in circles over the peach-fuzz behind her ear and waits. She breathes. A little hitch in her lungs. Whispers, “No, I don't.”

The breeze picks up around the house and on the back of his hand Mal can feel the first specks of rain, reaching them even under the cover veranda. He watches as the chill of it runs down Lou’s spine and she curls even tighter into him, ring-covered hand curling in the fabric of his Henley.

He traces the shape of her knuckles and presses a kiss to her head, just behind her ear.

“I thought he’d be dead by now,” she says, voice crackling. “I hoped… Fuck, I wanted-”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to forgive him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” she whispers. “I do when he looks like that and when Josiah… when Josiah…”

Mal closes his eyes and sighs, thumb running circles. “I know.”

He leans his head back and pushes his feet against the ground, rocking the both of them gently on the swing, like a baby’s cradle, as he tries to collect his thoughts up. All the scraps he’s learned about Cassius over the past two years or so.

“Cass. When you knew him. Big user of prescription drugs?"

Lou snorts a laugh. Sniffs. “Big user of everything.”

“Right.”

The wind picks up again and Mal pushes his hair back with a sigh just to get it out of his face. Should’ve brought a hair tie.

“Benzos, I think,” Lou mutters after a minute or so, wrapping her arms around his middle. He drifts his hand to her shoulder. “He used other shit on the weekend but day to day, fucktonne of benzos. I think Tucker got them for him.”

“And Tucker was…?”

“His minder. Fucking sleazy asshole. Pretty sure he was doing underhand shit with him on the side but Cass never talked about it. They deserved each other.”

Mal hums, low and deep. Lets out a sigh. That narrowed it down some but didn’t exactly confirm anything. Lou shifts where she’s crumpled, tilting her head up to look at him as the curiosity needles at her.

“Why?”

Mal traces the curve of her nose with his pinky finger before resting his hand under her jaw. “Pretty sure he’s in withdrawal. It’d help if we knew what for.”

He doesn’t mention the other thing Cass had said. He didn’t have enough of the details and he wasn’t gonna get Lou’s head spinning over a story he’d barely had a foot in the door of hearing.

The people I was, people I was staying with. I think they, they… I think…

had said could mean anything. People he’d been staying with for a year. For a week. For a night. Friends, foes, family, fuck buddies. Who the hell knew.

He’d thought maybe a benzo of some description. Rohypnol, perhaps. Maybe just a continual dose of Valium.

Do you know what it was they gave you?

It’d explain the paranoia. The trembling and the dizziness too. But there was no way to tell for sure really.

I don’t even, even know for sure that they, they, they did.

Jesus, what were they in for with this kid?

“D’you think he’s in Josiah’s head?” Lou asks after a gentle minute, pulling Mal from his thoughts.

Mal shrugs, glancing down at her. “Do you?”

“Yes,” she says, nearly immediately. In the seconds afterwards he watches the paranoia and the fury melt off her features like ice against heated metal. “No.”

The wind picks up and she shivers against him, tucks in even closer and trails her finger along a wrinkle in his shirt.

“I just don’t understand how he’s so… calm. How he can have forgiven him so easy.”

“Maybe he hasn’t,” Mal offers. He brushes his thumb along her cheek. “Have you asked?”

A long, long pause. Lou buries her face in his stomach, tightens her arms around his waist. The rain starts to hit the cover of the verandah in fat, heavy drops and Mal closes his eyes and raises his head just to listen to it. It sounds, piece by piece, like the sky’s caving in.

#drugs cw #drugging cw #emeto cw #whump aftermath #mal #lou #josiah #cassius #the present #gOD i thought this day would never come #probably gonna post the next part later tonight because i crave vaildation

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stones-x-bones · 4 years ago

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Bare Bones || Morgan and Bex

TIMING: Last weekend PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex comes to Morgan’s to see her library collection, but books aren’t the only things that open up. CONTENT: Homophobia mentions, Transphobia mentions, Child/Domestic abuse mentions

Morgan fiddled with the books on the shelf yet again and ran her duster over the spines, the crisp pages, and Squirrely and Possum’s always-friendly faces. “We’ve got this, you guys,” she whispered under her breath. “Bex is going to love you, and the library, and the bones, and maybe we can bullshit some anthropology reasons for her to look at some real magic books, and wait for…” She wasn’t sure what. The weight of the truth to crack her denial open like an egg? For her divine intuition to kick in? Did non pegan spellcasters have divine intuition? She hadn’t met any; she

The doorbell rang, somehow sounding nervous to Morgan despite knowing it was automated.

She gave one last look around the room. She had spread some of the books out and accented empty shelves with some displays from the bone room: some framed fossils, a few skulls she had managed to collect on her own, and an articulated raccoon she and Deirdre had assembled over the course of a weekend in the peaceful days of summer. There was a little of everything, including some magic books she had hauled out of her studio just for Bex to see. It wasn’t exactly a neon light saying ‘something witchy this way comes,’ but it was better than indulging too much in her denial, right?

Right. Totally.

Morgan jogged to the storage closet and chucked the duster inside, not caring if it landed in its bucket or not. She half slid, half ran to the door. She checked her ponytail and the amber pendant Deirdre had given her and opened the door. She wasn’t so image conscious at home, but some of Bex’s excitable energy felt contagious. She wanted to do her best, to make this as okay for her as possible. Smiling warmly, she beckoned the girl inside. “Hey, Bex. Thanks for deciding to come by. Come on in and make yourself cozy, okay? There’s plenty of snacks in the kitchen, if you want any, and tea and coffee, if the cold’s gotten to you on the way over.”

Okay, she could do this. Bex flattened out the front of her skirt as if that would help her calm down, but all it did was make her a little more nervous. She was excited to see Professor Beck, er, Morgan and all that her library had to offer. And the fossils Deirdre had! It was supposed to be a relaxing day, but lunch was also supposed to have been relaxing and easy and that had not turned out well. Bex could only hope nothing would explode today, or if it did, it wouldn’t be her fault. Not that she had any control over it, or that it was, you know, her. She still hadn’t let herself accept that, despite what had happened with Mina and what she’d said to Nell. Magic just couldn’t be real. It had to be something else.

Swallowing, she pushed the doorbell.

It took a moment, and Bex was just rocking back on her heels when the door opened. “Hi, Professor!” she chimed, smiling bright. It was such a reflex now, making herself seem happy, excited, okay, that she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, okay. Um--” she stepped inside after Morgan and looked around, arms still pressed tightly to herself in front of her, clutching her small purse, “--I-I’m okay for now, thank you.” She looked around, eyes tracing over the walls and decor, just like she had when she’d gone to meet Nell for the ice cream they’d never gotten. The house was almost just like Nell’s, except the walls were a brighter color, and the hallways much larger. She understood, now, what Morgan meant by hallways full of empty rooms. Her eyes landed back on the older woman. “Thank you for having me,” she said with a small nod, “I’m excited to see your collection. And, of course, the fossils.” Formal, put together, polite-- all things Bex was sure she wouldn’t be if she had the wherewithal to choose. “Is Deirdre home?”

“Oh, please, I’m happy to,” Morgan replied. “Deirdre’s at work right now, but she finishes in a couple of hours, if you want to meet her in person. Go ahead and throw your stuff wherever, and I’ll show you where everything is!” She flexed her fingers, fighting the urge to take the girl's hand to make sure she didn’t get lost, and settled for waiting in the entryway off the foyer. “The kitchen is just off to the right and through here is the great room where we spend most of our time. If you’re cold, I can get the heat or a fire going. Neither of us feel the cold much, so it’s always hard to tell what guests need.”

Morgan walked a little further, pointing out a series of bathrooms and storage closets and double checking on the snack situation. There was some leftover veggie and bone broth soup and cranberry muffins that had been baked just earlier that day, and were currently in want of a taste tester since Morgan’s tastebuds had stopped working right after ‘an illness.’ “Also, let me know if this is overkill, okay? Besides, we’ve made it to the room you’re actually here to see!” Smiling bright with expectation, Morgan flung open the library doors and stood aside for Bex to enter. It was another white, overcast day, the kind where it was safe to part the many curtains that lined the windows without fear of fading Deirdre’s antique first editions, kept behind glass and lovingly tended to often. “Was there something you wanted to look at first in particular?” She asked.

Bex looked around in wonderment as she followed Morgan through the house. It was almost as big as her own, but somehow it felt so much more...like a home. There were things about the place that made it feel lived in, made it feel like people lived here, and not portraits and ghosts of the past. She reached out idly and ran her fingers along a table that had photos-- mostly of cats-- on it and tried not to look at too many or pry too hard into who they were. “I’m fine,” she said when Morgan offered to heat up the place, though Bex did feel a slight chill in the house she hadn’t felt before. “I have my jacket, anyway,” she said with a nod, trying to do away with the nervous smile. Her last conversation with Morgan had gotten...not fun, but Morgan didn’t know the safe word, so Bex couldn’t really blame her for the things she’d said. But they weren’t things Bex wanted to think about right now-- or ever, really-- and so she hoped they wouldn’t come up again today.

“Your house is so...homey,” she finally said when they came to a stop at the library finally. Her eyes were still wandering the halls and she nearly ran into Morgan, stopping herself just in time as she pointed out the room. “Oh! No, this is fine, really! My parents’ house is a little bigger than this, so I’m used to places with lots of rooms and stuff.” She blinked and let her gaze fall to the room in question, eyes lighting up instantly when she saw the shelves lined with books, old, probably valuable ones tucked behind glass in special cases. It was so colorful, compared to the dull greys and blues of the law library her parents kept. And so much larger than the bookshelf in Bex’s room that was lined with sci-fi and fantasy novels, tucked behind textbooks and history books. She took a moment to graze the spines of some nearby botanical looking texts before turning back to Morgan. “Oh, um--” pondered a moment-- “not to be predictable but-- anything about history? Whatever you’ve got!”

Morgan couldn’t help but beam with pride at Bex’s assessment of her place. “You really think so? It’s come a long way since I first visited, I think. I made most of the re-decorating choices, but some of the artwork prints are Deirdre’s work and um--” She gestured to a painting on the wall and beckoned Bex to follow. If Deirdre hadn’t told Morgan it was meant to be her, she wouldn’t have known. Only one large vaguely eye-looking shape indicated that the figure was meant to be a person at all. But there was affection in the brush strokes, in the time spent working at the little craft store canvas. Morgan touched the elaborate frame tenderly. “Some original work. Doesn’t happen everyday, as you might be able to guess, but that’s just what makes it special.” She laughed, full of warmth and fondness. She didn’t have to think it was pretty to love it.

“Anyways, this shelf is where the history stuff is.” She tapped her fingers down the shelf next to the painting. “Ireland, England, Norway and Germany up there. Then Mexico, Honduras, Venezuela, and Cuba in the middle. Then Egypt, Greece, and Rome. And my local, personal treasures are at the bottom. Texas, at the bottom. Maine, second to bottom. There’s only a couple of proper books, and then folders of many, many print outs and scans. And--” she pointed to one of the glass cases next to them. “A few old books, from back then. Ledgers, journals, a uh...grimoire. Family recipes, notes, old 19th century solutions to ailments, and some rituals and so one.” She flitted her gaze back to Bex. She didn’t seem so uptight as she had in the doorway, but after one of their recent conversations, Morgan couldn’t help but worry. “You can look at anything you want, okay?” And then, because she couldn’t help it. “How are you doing anyways?”

Bex was immediately intrigued by the books, ready to shovel a few of them off the shelf and pry them open. But she figured she ought to listen to Morgan first, it was the least she could do as thanks for letting her come over and explore her library. Her eyes fell to the paintings Morgan was gesturing to, and she was surprised to find out some of them were made by Deirdre herself. “Oh? She-- she made those?” she asked, then realized that she knew very little about Deirdre, except that she was Morgan’s partner and that she was incredibly pushy about people finding her attractive. Oh, and that she somehow understood Bex’s struggle better than anyone she’d ever talked to before, but she wasn’t about to think too hard about that one. “That’s incredible,” she said, once she’d had a chance to fully take in what she was looking at. Art was as much a part of history as wars and hunting, and those were, technically, very small parts of history.

Her attention, however, was lost when Morgan started listing off all the records and books and ledgers they had in their collection. Her eyes lit up with a renewed sense of wonder as she followed Morgan over to the shelves with her desired sources on it, and reached out for her first pick-- Egypt, of course-- when the question came. Her hand froze, midway through pulling a book out, but she didn’t move and she didn’t dare look at Morgan. Online, it was so easy to delete something you didn’t mean to type. Or to take your time in replying, to really think about what you were saying. To lie. But in person, the scrutiny of the other person, standing right near by, made it so much more difficult to do any of those things. And once they were said, you couldn’t take them back. There was no delete key for spoken words.

And so, Bex would have to choose her words carefully. She was studying to be a lawyer, after all, it should’ve been easy. “I’m doing okay,” she finally answered, finishing plucking the book out, albeit much slower than previous. “No more weird bird attacks or bloodied clothes since we last talked.” Interjecting jokes usually helped diffuse a situation, right? She pulled out another book before turning to look at Morgan. Maybe she could just change the subject. “You know, most history books were actually written using old records and ledgers. A lot of history actually comes from personally written accounts, and family records. So, really, be keeping your family’s, your helping history.”

“She made this one; I made that one.” Morgan pointed behind her at the messy painting on the wall. She couldn’t stand to look at it for very long. The memory of painting it at Lydia’s was too vivid; if Deirdre didn’t like it so much, Morgan would have taken it down already. “It’s an ‘in the eye of the beholder’ thing,” she said, waving the subject away.

She laughed alongside Bex as she quipped about her cockatrice run in and went over to the long coffee table to pick up the book she’d last been working on. “That isn’t what I meant, though.” she said. “I’m not asking for details, I just want to know…” If you’re okay. If you need help. Urgent, non-magical help because you were afraid of what would happen if you came home with bloody clothes and you keep talking about your family with the same kind of beholden fear Deirdre used to speak about hers with. I want to know that. But Morgan couldn’t say any of that if she wanted the girl to stay. “...how you’re really doing. I know when you’re applying yourself really hard in a lot of stressful environments or in stuff that feels high stakes, it can sometimes feel like you need to be fine all the time. But that’s just not the case. But, we don’t have to get into it, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Or more uncomfortable than she was all the time, at least.

“They’re pretty,” Bex said, looking over at Morgan’s as well. She could appreciate most art as well, even the kind that you had to squint at to see anything from it. But like most other things in history, art had its place, and therefore it held a place in Bex’s heart as well. “I think all art is in the eye of the beholder, that’s sort of what makes it art, right? I took an art history class once, I think that was the lesson. That, and that white men rule that world, too,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

Bex adjusted the books in her arms and shuffled in her spot. She didn’t want to answer any of those questions, because the answers weren’t good ones. And because there was nothing anyone could do about them. She bit her lip. “When I talked to Deirdre online, she kept asking me some pretty heavy things. I tried to tell her I wasn’t comfortable with a lot of it, and she suggested we come up with a safe word, for when things get too hard or confusing. So I suggested the word ‘tomato’, because I don’t like tomatoes so I never really talk about them. But-- that’s not the important thing. The important thing is-- I don’t want to answer your question, but if I tell you that, you’ll already know an answer anyway, because it’s usually pretty telling when people say they don’t wanna talk about how they are. So, instead, I’m just gonna say tomato and ask that maybe we just...don’t talk about that yet. Okay?”

Morgan’s features softened. She’d known Deirdre would be kind, and that with enough time, it would even be for Bex’s own sake and not just because she’d asked. But the conversational safeword hit with a particular kind of compassion, one that understood Bex’s fear more than Morgan, because it was closer to her own. Morgan smiled softly. “Okay. Tomato. I can remember that,” she said. She took her book and went to her usual spot on the couch and curled up and put in a single earbud and began to read. There was more, much more, that she wanted to show the girl today, but after how badly their coffee outing had gone after she’d pushed too hard and too fast it made more sense to let her come down from whatever stress had just spiked.

Morgan read and turned the page and tried to read some more. She was half tempted to show Bex the guest rooms in detail and throw in a free decoration job, or offer to just put up a bed in the library, if that would make the idea more appealing. ‘Tomato’ was almost as telling as the words Bex didn’t want to say and Morgan couldn’t help but weave through the silence in her mind, searching in vain for some clue that would tell her just how worried she should be.

After a while, Morgan paused her playlist and took out her earbud. She got up and passed by Bex on her way to the door. “I’m going to heat up some water for coffee. Holler if you want anything, okay? I’ll be right back.” She pressed the girl’s shoulder, unthinking, too used to being at ease in her home to think of how her skin felt to others, and drifted away without thinking anything of it.

“Thank you.” The relief felt large and consuming when Morgan agreed to tomato. Bex was grateful, and she shifted her books once more before going over to sit on the couch opposite Morgan, propping open her first book and perusing the table of contents. She couldn’t help the excitement that rose back up in her chest as she flipped through and started reading, already half forgetting that there was someone else in the room with her. She could always so easily fall into a good book, especially a good history book. And these ones were new to her! She hadn’t read them before, and even through that excitement, she was eager to get to the books on the town’s history-- and to forget the things Morgan said to her and asked about her.

She was enraptured in her book when Morgan got up. So much so that she didn’t even notice until the older woman was next to her, patting her on the shoulder. Bex jumped slightly, closing the book on reflex. Hands splayed over the title as if trying to hide it before she remembered where she was and that she didn’t need to do that here. She nodded stiffly. “Right, thank you,” she said, clearing her throat. Her eyes drifted to her shoulder where Morgan had touched her and the ice cold sensation that had come from her hand. Strange. Gripping the books tightly, Bex leaned out of her couch as if to follow Morgan with her gaze, before slipping from the chair and going back over to the cabinets full of books. Her eyes scanned the titles of the ones behind glass, and she wanted so bad to touch, to look-- but didn’t. She was sure with time and trust, one day she would be able to see them. Instead, she put back the two books she’d found and slipped out the Bachman ledger. Sat on the floor in front of the shelf, folding it open tenderly and exploring the pages with her own eyes. Curious, perhaps, beyond reason when she didn’t believe in the things that were written in the texts.

Morgan froze in front of the door, watching Bex. “S-sorry,” she muttered, cradling her hand to her chest. “I forgot. I should probably wear gloves or something, honestly. It’s um, a chronic thing…” But Bex had done more than just flinch. Morgan took in her closed book, her clenched posture, and catalogued the away for later.

She took her time in the kitchen, making a rich cup of espresso that filled her with a nice tingle of earthy flavor and coming back after she’d made another cup and run to her bedroom to borrow a pair of Deirdre’s gloves. When she returned, she froze in the entrance again, taking in Bex looking over her family’s old books. “Hey,” she called softly. “Find anything good? I know some of that stuff can be uh...a little confusing. If you have any questions, um…” She approached slowly, trying to get a peek at what she was looking at. There were lots of ways to explain witchcraft in a cultural context, dimly, Morgan even wondered if she could sneak in a lesson under the pretense of historical recreation or anthropology exploration. But one thing at a time. “Well, I’m sure you’re gonna have questions, but just let me know, okay? I’m an open book too.” At least as much as she could be without scaring the girl.

Bex devoured most of the ledger by the time Morgan had come back. Speed reading was a necessary skill when you had to memorize tomes that were thousands of pages long full of legal jargon and so on and such forth. She startled slightly, blinking as she looked up at Morgan, a little embarrassed she was still on the floor, dress splayed out around her. Cheeks flushing, she ran her hands over the pages of the parchment and bit her lip. Her curiosity was easily spotted in her eyes, as she stared down the words. “Oh, lots of good stuff, that’s for sure,” she answered, giving a smile. She glanced up to Morgan. “Lots of questions, too, like--” she looked around, then back-- “did your family really think they were cursed? Is that what you were talking about, too, when you said you thought you’d cursed your family because you were--” the word stuck in her throat. She hadn’t said it outloud in so long. It almost felt wrong, but she knew it wasn’t. She knew she didn’t have to be afraid here. And yet, the fear remained. She folded back into herself, fingers pressing gently against the edges of the book.

“What’s it like being back here?” she asked, moving on, and hoping Morgan wouldn’t stick on it, either. “Knowing your family has history here? Did you expect that? Did you know that when you came here? Do you have more stuff about your family history? I only saw this one--” gestured to the ledger-- “and I wasn’t sure what else I could, um....look at.”

Morgan sipped her coffee and came down to sit next to Bex, peering over the pages. She’d never known how to feel about most of her ancestors. The pieces of them preserved on paper were so distant and impersonal. She couldn’t tell if they were sarcastic, or moody, or sweet, or boisterous. Everything was so restrained, or fragmented, they were less than ghosts. And then there were the secrets they’d kept, the lies they’d told themselves. They hadn’t deserved to suffer so badly, but stars above…

“Yes,” Morgan said carefully. “The curse is real. Or, I mean…” She took another sip of coffee, fingers tapping and fidgeting around the mug as she tried to figure out how to thread this needle. “It was certainly real to them, all of them, right up to my mother. And there really was a girl who used to work for the Bachmans, and she was a self-proclaimed witch. The family cast her out when she was nineteen and she died horribly and alone and when they finally found her body, she was bent over a cauldron, surrounded by rune stones and crystal stones and other stuff you’d expect of a witch. And then, there were the things that happened to the family. Those were real too.” She got up and took out her pink plastic file folder to offer to the girl. “There’s prescriptions, doctor notes, death certificates, shopping lists for medical supplies, and so on, that corroborate the stories of the terrible things that happened to the family. Every three years, there uh, just so happened to be a spike in these rather unfortunate, often tragic events. And while the family was by no means protected from the world’s chaos before, the severity and frequency of peril was at least somewhat noteworthy on these ‘cursed’ years.” Morgan could barely keep the edge out of her voice. She felt ill and hollow playing pretend, throwing questions over these people who knew only too well what was happening to them. She cleared her throat and smiled bravely. “You can see why they would maintain a belief like that. Obviously. But that’s not why I thought I was a curse for being a lesbian. My mother chose not to pass on that particular lore until I came out to her. That was definitely just some really awful timing with the AIDS epidemic and the Satanic Panic and living in Suburban Texas. I’m not really sure how much of a chance I stood at having a healthy relationship with my sexuality straight out the gate.” She laughed, rueful with the safety of distance and better days.

“But it’s fine. I did come up here for the history. I wanted to get the truth about all those awful scary stories and try to make sense of my life through that. And there’s more things in the glass cabinets and there’s...well, I guess they’re antiques now. There’s a chest upstairs of things Agnes…” she sighed sadly, thinking of the woman, of her pain. “...My great-great grandmother Agnes buried before she emigrated to Texas.” She looked sidelong at the girl, her fear and anxiety coiling her like a spring just as much as her excitement. She hated lying to her, dressing up the truth in cute little rational outfits. It felt patronizing, even morbid in some odd, diminishing way she couldn’t articulate. Patting the girl’s fingers with her now gloved hand, she said, “I would be astonished if you didn’t see everything in my collection at least once eventually. But you can go through that folder and…” She shrugged haplessly. “Anything else you’re curious about. I don’t see much point in keeping knowledge locked up.” She normally didn’t see much point in keeping secrets either, and she let out a long sigh in a vain effort to relieve the tension holding so many caused her.

Bex watched Morgan closely as she came to sit next to her, and she scooped up the books she’d had propped around her to set them aside. She was never the best at reading people’s faces, except for when they were mad or angry or irritated-- those looks she knew well, and she knew well how to calm them. But Morgan’s face showed none of those, only a sort of quiet contemplation and perhaps a weariness Bex didn’t quite understand yet.

When Morgan began to speak, she listened as intently as possible. Bad luck was often a curse people talked about-- she’d read books about people cursed with bad luck or families cursed with it, too. Somehow, the way Morgan described it seemed different from those, seemed...harder. Bex tried to get herself to understand, how an entire family lineage, written and recorded, could be cursed, believe they were all cursed. And it didn’t entirely fall short on her-- her inherent curiosity let her believe in many things. Ghosts, monsters, spirits-- the concept of energy and feeling it through the Earth and its elements. But witchcraft, curses, spellcasting-- the way her parents had talked to her about it, about what people in this town might say-- felt wrong. It felt almost...dirty. She took the folder Morgan handed her and glanced at it, closing up the ledger and flitting through the records. And after everything Morgan said and all the information that was now stuffed in her head, Bex really only had one question.

She turned to look at Morgan, eyes full of curiosity, and understanding, for the sorrow she obviously held for her family and the torture they’d been through. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Morgan sat further back in her seat, her gaze drifting out to the window, where she could see the pool and the shed where she had spent so many weeks in grief. She had found out the truth, and she’d tracked down the witch who had cursed her, she had made her suffer, and she had escaped the perpetual grip of suffering that had ground her existence down to little more than fear and avoidance. She sipped her coffee slowly, thinking still. Nothing she had explicitly set out to accomplish had done her any good, and yet she wouldn’t have her good if she hadn’t bothered trying at all. How did you weigh that against everything else?

“I just came here looking for a way to find out what really happened to my family. To make all the pieces fit and get out from under thirty-nine years plus four generations of trauma. That first part was relatively easy, and I don’t, strictly speaking, regret it, even if that search came with some really, really high costs I’m still figuring out how to reckon with.” She swallowed thickly. “Before I came here, the wildest, most painfully impossible dream I had for my life--and I mean so painful I tried to think about it as little as possible--was to live in a house big enough to have people over in at a moment’s notice, with a fancy bathroom, and a room just for books, and another one just for cats. A woman to come home to, who would hold me at night, who would love me, even after knowing all of my mess and my past.” She gestured around them and looked about the room herself, trying to take in the place like it was new. “Even if I’ll never get to appreciate all of this in exactly the way I used to, wanted to, it’s still here. And it’s mine. And I wouldn’t have any of it if I’d given up or stayed home. And it’s uh...I don’t know if anything ‘worth’ some of the stuff I have to carry with me for the rest of my life, but if it was always going to be a package deal, if it would always mean a little suffering and struggle, so I could have all this, I’d do everything the same. To know what it feels like to be home, the way home is supposed to be, I’d do it.” Finally, she turned her gaze to Bex, her smile turning watery. “So I guess I did, but I found something better too.”

The contemplative silence that fell over Morgan after Bex’s question gave her enough of an answer to know what might be coming once she spoke. It wasn’t exactly a common story, but it was close enough to one that Bex understood what Morgan meant, how going through all of the pain, slogging through the hard part, was worth it in the end because she got to find a place that was better and happy and worth more. She hadn’t noticed herself tearing up while she listened until she looked up at Morgan and found a watery smile wavering back at her. She wiped them away quickly and turned her head away, fiddling with the folder she’d been handed. “So it was worth it? Coming here? Going through-- all of that?” Fighting for something she wanted and something she needed. Bex didn’t know if she had that much fight in her, she didn’t know if what Morgan was talking about was something she’d ever get to have, to try. She sniffled a little and leaned back against one of the shelves. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Morgan wiped at her own eyes and nodded. “I guess if I’d do it twice or three times over the same way, it must be.” She laughed softly, swallowing back the rest of her tears. “Uh, don’t really recommend doing everything that I did on the way to get..this. Or whatever it is you really want for yourself, Bex. It is worth it, even if it’s hard, and I do know hard, but I hope for something to be easy for you. Easy and right. Not many things are, and I feel like...I just have a feeling that you’ve already had a bit of hard.” She met the girl’s eyes, trying to gauge how close she was to the truth, how much deeper Bex would let her look. “Thank you, for saying that,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t always. Glad to be here, I mean. But I am now. I hope you’re glad to be here too. Because you really are something special, Bex…”

At that, Bex felt her heart squeeze. Morgan was always so honest and open with her, she’d let her ask crazy questions that got way more than personal. She let her sit in the back of the class and didn’t call on her unless she wanted. She let her go through her family’s entire library of books-- and all Bex had given back to her was the word tomato and an inkling of what she might want out of life. Her body drooped and she plucked at a seam on her dress. “I haven’t seen as many hard times as you,” she murmured, “that’s for sure…” Even those words said enough about the truth. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m happy I have a home, and I’m happy there’s so many people here that seem to care about me being happy,” she started out slowly, “but...I don’t know if I’m happy to be here, you know, at the moment.” She sighed and leaned back. “I was happy to be out. I was happy to have found a place where I might fit in better. I-- it was strange, but I liked Penn State. Even after the incident, I--” she clicked her jaw, “--don’t know. It was just nice, to have my own place…”

“Out?” It took Morgan a second to catch up to Bex’s train of thought. But there were only so many things a kid could come out as, and with the way Bex felt she owed her parents for ‘letting her’ be herself, the pieces finally clicked into place. Oh, Bexley. “Hey. It’s not a contest. And you don’t have to be happy to be here right now. Sometimes it’s better to say that, than to pretend. Pretending can be exhausting, right?” She leaned back against the pillows, curling herself up as she angled toward Bex. “I have two questions, and you can answer both, or just one, or neither, but… What happened in the um, ‘incident’? And, also, if you could have your own place, an apartment or even just a few rooms to yourself, what would it be like? What would you put in it?”

Bex gave a little snort as she suppressed a chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean-- it’s just that-- all I do is pretend.” She shook her head. “At least it feels that way.” She sniffled a little, tried not to play all of her hand at once. She knew Morgan could see straight through her, though, so what was the point? “It um--” Bex sat back against the books, pulling her knees up to her chest, “rumors spread so quickly around campuses, you know? It’s crazy. I’d never expected anything like that. I went to private boarding school and any rumors there were just about who’s dad made more money or whatever. Anything with substance was hushed quickly.” She breathed in deep, biting her lip. “But public school is a whole other playing field, isn’t it? In private school, if you had shit to say, you said it to their face, consequences be damned because mommy and daddy would just pay it off. Anyway…someone um-- started a rumor about me and I guess this uh-- this girl, wanted to know for herself. So she asked me out and then afterwards we went back to her room and things got--” Hesitating, Bex felt her hands begin to shake. She smoothed her palms down her legs. “The point is that, she posted photos of us online and my parents found out and they really didn’t like it because you know what you can’t pay off? Teenagers with Facebook and Twitter.”

Morgan’s hand twitched, itching to reach out for Bex. “No, it’s okay, you can laugh,” she said, smiling wryly. “If you’re gonna be miserable, you may as well appreciate whatever humor you can. Even if that’s no way to live your life, especially not all the time.” She listened, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral. In the end, she stopped trying. “Bex…” she whispered. “Is it okay if I get closer to you?” She held up her hands, showing off the thin leather gloves. “I won’t feel so...cold. But…” Some traumatized kids don’t like to be touched. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if you don’t like being touched.” She scanned her face, searching for an answer in her expression. “I’m so sorry, Bex. That anyone would treat you so cruel. You do know it wasn’t your fault, right? The horrible things people do aren’t a value or a judgement on you. You should get to be loved, Bex.”

“Who says I’m miserable!?” Bex said loudly, but it echoed in the library between them and she realized how stupid that sounded. She wrapped her arms around her knees and drew them even closer. Blinked away some hot tears building in her eyes and drew in a breath, holding it a moment. Logically, she had no real reason to dislike the touch of others so intimately-- but she knew why she did. “Um-- a little closer is fine,” she said with a short nod. Eyes couldn’t be found anymore, staring hard at her tights covered knees. “I mean-- I should’ve known, though!” she argued, “I should’ve known. No one would just like me. And I wasn’t even sure--” well, that was a blatant lie. Bex had been sure about it since she was in elementary school, and she’d only questioned herself once her parents had found out-- “that I liked-- that I was--” and she couldn’t even say the words anymore. “I should’ve known, because all people have done, all my life, is use me to get what they want. And I…” started, stopped. She didn’t know what to say anymore. “I guess that’s just my life.”

Morgan inched closer. Slowly, she feathered one finger along the girl’s temple, brushing away her tears. “There’s nothing you should’ve known. There’s no reason why you should think that anyone who says they like you isn’t being honest. There’s no good reason anyone has to be cruel like that. Whatever you’re used to, whatever people have done, that’s not your worth, or the meaning of what you can have, Bex.” She dropped her voice even softer and hovered her hand above the girl’s, which dug deep into her body. “You are such a gift, Bex. Just the way you are. You don’t have to be afraid of liking girls, or anything else about yourself. There’s nothing about who you are that isn’t wonderful, even though it doesn’t feel that way right now. Even though it feels easier to pretend to be different. You’re okay just like this.” Slower still, her hand settled on Bex’s. “Do you want me to come closer?” She asked.

Bex listened to Morgan talk but none of the words stuck. They slammed against her, pressing against old wounds that had never closed, and made her hurt. Reminded her of why they hurt. She screwed her eyes shut and put her head on her knees. She wanted to believe her, she wanted so bad to let herself believe Morgan-- but giving herself that hope would just hurt more in the end. If she let herself believe that maybe she was okay like this, her parents would just rip it away again. All she had was her ability to pretend. She’d accepted that long ago. “Tomato,” was all she said, not moving when Morgan rested a hand on hers. She was quiet for a long moment before she lifted her head again, eyes unable to meet Morgan’s. “Can we go see the bone room now?”

Morgan’s heart sank. She couldn’t stop trying any more than Bex could stop from hiding herself. It was too important. And with every opportunity she got, she thought, maybe this time, or maybe this time, or this time, or this time, or this time...it would stick. And everything would be okay. But not today.

Morgan gave the girl’s fingers a light squeeze. “Okay. Of course we can,” she said. “Come here with me, honey, I’ll show you.” She released her fingers reluctantly and stood, trying not to watch Bex too closely as she led the way out the room and down the hall. The girl would want to compose herself, or decide how she wanted to shield herself. They had that much in common, much as it pained Morgan to recognize.

The bone room was down at the end, mostly gallery, with tall display cases that housed articulated minks, foxes, squirrels, chipmunks, rats, and the like. Rows of skulls looked down from the topmost shelves, delighted in their grim, lifeless way. To the right was a case of fossils of all sorts, mostly in little chunks of ammonite and sandstone, with a few precious pieces of amber that made Morgan touch the one that hung around her neck with affection. At the end was an antique worktable with a stool, currently draped with canvas, but usually spotted with dust and tools for Deirdre to work with. Nearby, two armchairs and an end table were crammed together, Morgan’s attempt at extending quality time. She went to her spot now and sat, cozying up again.

“This one’s mine,” she said, tapping gently on the display shelf next to her. “Most are from since Deirdre came here, but I think there’s a few favorites she brought with her. She told me you could take one of the fossils with you, if you like. Just let me know which.”

Bex understood that Morgan just wanted to help, she really did-- but how was she supposed to when Bex didn’t even understand what she needed help with? The situation with her parents was difficult, she knew it wasn’t the best place for her, but she had nowhere else to go. No guarantee that she would have anything if she acted out. No guarantee that they would let her go. Her obedience stemmed from fear and she understood that, on some level, but she also just wanted her parents to tell her they loved her. Tell her they were proud of her. That was an achievable goal, she knew it, she just needed to tough it out for a little bit, be the daughter they wanted. She could do that, really, she could.

Still, she felt the disappointment in Morgan’s words when she closed up, and Bex couldn’t lift her eyes from the floor. Even the small squeeze of her fingers made her muscles tighten. She wasn’t used to affectionate touches, to those small, reassuring ones that were meant to comfort, not hurt. Swallowing, she stood up with her and shuffled behind her towards the bone room. It was as wonderful and amazing as she thought it might be, old fossils and bones lining the wall, history written forever in the DNA of living beings-- but she couldn’t find the words to voice her feelings. Silently, she walked over to the work table and ran her fingers over the cloth, wondering what it looked like underneath. Imagining what it might feel like to sit in the stool herself and work away at restoring some old fossil or artifact she’d found while exploring.

At Morgan’s words, she turned back to look at her. “It’s-- that’s okay,” she said, turning her attention to the display case Morgan had motioned to as hers. “I don’t have a spot for it yet.” A spot to hide it, as it were. She paused in front of the case. “You made all of these?”

Morgan turned around in her seat and peered over at the shelf Bex was standing by. She didn’t try to stifle the fondness at seeing her handiwork: articulated squirrels and birds, the bone crown that had won first place at the town craft fair, some jewelry she had gifted or made just for practice, and lots of partial limbs, paws, wings, and skulls carefully cleaned and polished. “We articulated the skeletons together, and that doe, hanging up there,” she pointed to the wall. “I brought the pieces to her as a birthday present. I really don’t know enough about anatomy in order to be able to tell what goes where on my own. But I like them. And the things I get to make, obviously. I like how, even if their old selves aren’t really here, something is still left behind. Something even beautiful. Death doesn’t always have to be grotesque. There can still be change, and beauty. And that’s just...something that is really important for me to remember right now.” She laughed, self-deprecating, at some of her rougher practice pieces. “I’m getting better, by the way. Not great, but, uh.” She shrugged.

Bex could understand that. A skeleton of what they used to be, still here, just different. Even after death, something remained. Maybe there was more than one kind of death. Her eyes traveled the skeletons, the articulated squirrel, the birds, with their fragile, delicate wing bones; the bone crown, decorated with moss and flowers and jewels. There was a deep sense of longing Bex felt looking at them. It wasn’t the same, the thing she craved, but it was close enough to make her feel a deep envy for what Morgan had. A loving girlfriend, a home that felt real, a hobby that satisfied her, and confidence to be herself. Bex’s hands wrung together and she stole a small glance over at Morgan in her chair. “I think it’s incredible,” she said quietly, “and so beautiful.” Suddenly, she turned to fully face Morgan, eyes more steady than they had been most of the afternoon. “Can you teach me how to do it?”

Morgan didn’t say anything at first. She was hoping to get Bex to take a piece, something discreet, to remind her that she wasn’t alone, as close to an enchantment as a mundane object could get. She hadn’t expected Bex (or anyone besides Erin and Gabe, really) to care about the work she did with her hands. But she couldn’t deny how it had helped her, and she did want Bex to come by more often. At this point, her magic barely factored into the picture at all. It was this cage she carried around herself, this thing her parents had built. Morgan’s features softened and she climbed out of the chair, coming as close to the girl as she dared. “If that’s what you want, Bex, I’d like nothing more.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Bex said, “to learn how to do something with my hands. To...make and not break.” LIke the pot, like the sidewalk, like the windows. Like everything. She idled, hands wringing together again. “I’ve watched videos of people doing this kind of work, like um-- cleaning bones, and fossils and putting them back together. Making something new out of something most people would think is lifeless. I guess I don’t really seem like the type of person to like this kind of thing, right?” But that was just it, wasn’t it? She was the kind of person that liked those things. The persona she played wasn’t real. Her hands begged to build and touch and feel and create. Discover. Her demeanor changed quickly and her body tightened again. “Just don’t...you can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, and I look like someone who does?” Morgan balked, laughing. She gestured to her rose-pink skirt, her periwinkle blue sweater. Maybe the skull on her pendant was a little bit of a hint, or the bone ring on her middle finger, but a lot of people couldn’t tell it apart from plastic, they’d seen so little of it before. However much she’d changed, Morgan still clung to life, and sometimes she even let it show. “The last thing I would ever presume, Bex, is a limit on what you’re capable of. But I won’t tell anyone. Except for Deirdre. Because I tell her everything, and she’s going to be so excited, but other than that: no one outside this home needs to know. And!” She left the room and beckoned for Bex to follow her. “It just so happens that I do my work in my own little hidey-hole. We’ll be working there when you come to visit. Or we can set up a temporary workstation in the kitchen, if you prefer.” She stopped short of the back door, which led onto the patio, the garden, the pool, and Morgan’s little gray studio. “And you can turn up whenever you want for a lesson, though I won’t lie, it’d be nice to see you once a week. You’re pretty great to be around, and it’s not an easy thing to get the hang of.”

Bex gave a tiny smile at that. It was true, Morgan didn’t seem like the kind of person to like working with dead things or bones, but Bex couldn’t be too surprised, since she liked those things, too. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. Maybe there was hope for Bex to have something like Morgan did. She blinked, following Morgan through the house towards the back door. “That’s okay, you can tell her,” she said with a small nod, “I trust her, too.” And maybe there were only a few of those people around, but Bex’s group of people she trusted was slowly expanding. Now, she’d just have to come up with a way to explain to her parents where she was going so often. She could probably get away with a half lie-- they’d be thrilled if they knew she was working extra with a professor from the school. They just didn’t need to know which professor and what they were doing. She could have this one thing. “Is that the shed you told me about? The one in the backyard?” she asked, curious. “I think that’d be fine. I wouldn’t mind working there.” Her eyes came up to look at Morgan finally, a bit of hope twinkling in them. “I think I can do that. Once a week…” It was a wild concept, to have something to look forward to each week-- but she was sure she’d get used to it. “I can do that.”

Morgan beamed. “You can just tell your parents you’re taking on an independent study, or a research assistantship! I don’t actually have those at my pay grade, but--” She shrugged, signaling shh. It wouldn’t matter, in the end. As long as Bex could get here without invoking their ire, as long as she could find a space to grow a little piece of happiness, the details didn’t matter. Morgan led the way out the back and through the freshly paved path that lead to her studio. She opened the door for them and switched on the lights, then the overhead for the table she worked at. Schoolwork mingled with glue and thread and wire and half a dozen animal vertebrae scattered before and armature that needed to be assembled and deer horns in need of cutting, skulls that only been freshly skinned and still had to be polished. Her tool cabinet hung half open from when she’d abandoned work in the morning. It was a whole world of knowledge waiting to be understood. Morgan grinned and gestured for Bex to join her. “What do you say we get started now?”

#chatzy #chatzy: morgan #wickedswriting #bare bones #morgan #tw homophobia mention #tw transphobia mention #tw child abuse mention

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years ago

Note

I hope it's cool for me to drop another one, you just write them so well. Z: “Zip me up?” PriceMarsh

Absolutely! Prepare for a near-lethal dose of pricemarsh fluff.

CW for referenced homophobia and implied internalized homophobia. Also references to Rachel’s death because I can’t not at least mention that.

---

There’s no reason for Chloe to feel so nervous. It’s only prom. She’s never been one of those girls who considers their high school prom to be a pinnacle of her life to be surpassed only by her eventual and inevitable wedding day. Before she and Kate started dating, Chloe would’ve laughed at the idea of even going to prom. She was way too cool for all that mainstream, cliche high school shit even before she dropped out.

But here she is, sitting in the cab of her truck in the parking lot for the girls’ dorms, sweating through her tuxedo shirt as she tries to work up the nerve to go meet her prom date. Nervous. She and Kate have been official for a few good months now, but they’ve never done anything this, well, official. Chloe bought a corsage and everything. She’s wearing her dad’s old powder blue tuxedo from his prom, taken off mothballs for the occasion (lucky for her he was a total beanpole when he was in high school; Joyce barely had to take it in at all). It’s fucking go time.

She flicks her lighter a few times to steady her nerves. God, she wants a cigarette. But she knows Kate hates the smell even though she tries not to complain, and she wants tonight to be perfect. Not for herself, of course - she’s still too much of a hardass punk to care about going to prom, much less about having it be some kind of magical experience - but for Kate. Because Kate cares about going to prom, and Kate deserves a perfect night. She deserves, at the very least, a prom date who doesn’t smell (and taste) like an ashtray. If Kate’s going to risk outing herself to her family with prom photos of her with an obvious lesbian on her arm, well, Chloe’s going to be the best goddamn arm candy she can be.

She tosses her lighter into the glove box and switches off her stereo, silencing the pump up mix she’d been playing to get psyched. She takes a deep breath to ground herself. Okay. Okay. Now it’s go time.

She grabs her tuxedo jacket off the passenger side of the bench seat and slings it on as she opens the door and hops out into the parking lot. She pulls out her phone and texts Kate.

Me: im here

Me: u ready to wreck shit up w ur hella hot prom date?

Kate: Almost :)

Kate: I need your help with something. Can you come up?

Chloe suppresses the instinct to shout NO EMOJI and restricts herself to a polite: sure

She checks herself out one last time in her side mirror. Her hair’s freshly dyed and combed to a silky sheen, every strand perfectly in place. She’s got a tasteful amount of eyeliner on, like any good pirate, and it makes the blue of her eyes pop. The tux looks surprisingly good for something that’s been packed up in the attic for longer than she’s been alive, and it accents her hair and her eyes both.

“Your father would be so happy for you. I wish he could’ve seen you.”

Chloe swallows down the sudden lump in her throat. She already sobbed her eyes out enough when Joyce was helping her get ready; she’s not picking up her prom date with raccoon eyes if she cries her eyeliner into a mess (again). She adjusts her lapels (what was it with the late seventies and ridiculous lapels?!) and her blue butterfly boutonniere and strides toward the dorms.

There are several people standing outside, copping a last smoke before prom. Victoria Chase is one of them, flanked by two girls Chloe only vaguely recognizes. She’s pretty sure the bottle blonde smoked her out once at a Vortex party after she’d lost track of Rachel, but she’s not sure they ever exchanged names. Victoria flicks some ash off her cigarette as Chloe nears, but she pointedly avoids Chloe’s gaze rather than engaging her. So, still kind of an ice queen but maybe she’s learned a modicum of civility in the wake of the absolute clusterfuck that was last semester, between her best friend getting arrested along with her favorite teacher for a gross assortment of sex crimes. And murder.

Chloe’s stomach twists violently at the memory. Fuck, last fall was a shitshow. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have survived learning about Rachel’s murder (officially “death by misadventure” because the Prescotts have lawyers out their ass, but Chloe’s nobody’s fool) without Kate’s shoulder to cry on. Chloe still doesn’t believe in god, but if she did she’d say that Kate’s been an absolute godsend.

Chloe spares the girls by the door a quiet nod in greeting as she passes, and two out of three return it (fuck you very much, too, Unnamed Brunette Sidekick). She climbs the stairs to the second floor and hustles to Kate’s door. Her whiteboard is blank today, so Chloe takes a moment to draw a cartoon heart on it before she knocks.

“Chloe?”

“The one and only,” she replies.

“It’s open; can you let yourself in? Alice is being a handful.”

“Ooh, bunny shenanigans!” Chloe opens the door and slips into the room, closing the door swiftly behind her in case Alice is in danger of escaping. Alice’s cage is, indeed, empty, and the bunny is nowhere in sight. What Chloe can see, however, is about half of Kate poking out from beneath her bed. She shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t. She does anyway. Kate’s legs just look so formal as they stick out from beneath her bed at awkward angles, politely wrapped in dark tights and the jumble of what is clearly a very pretty dress that deserves better than to be mangled and coated in dust before it can even get its moment in the spotlight.

Kate giggles, so at least she’s aware of the ridiculousness of the situation and probably isn’t mad at Chloe. “She just will not go back in her cage! Can you help?” Kate flails out a hand in Chloe’s general direction.

Chloe crouches next to the bed and takes Kate’s hand, helping to slide her out from under it. “Hey, bun-bun,” she calls softly to the bunny beneath Kate’s bed. “Your favorite person is here! Come say hello!”

Kate gasps in mock offense and swats Chloe’s arm. “Her second favorite person, thank you!”

Alice hops tentatively out from under the bed and wiggles her perfect little nose at Chloe. “Ah-ha!” Chloe reaches down and gently picks her up. “Got you, you little rascal. Were you making life difficult for your momma?” She gives Alice a nuzzle.

“She’s been such a naughty bunny tonight,” Kate sighs. “I can’t tell you how many times she tried to nibble my dress. And poor Alyssa! Alice got half her corsage before either of us figured out what was happening.”

“Aww, I missed Alyssa?”

“Sorry; she had to finish her own makeup. She did mine, too. Is it too much? I haven’t gotten a chance to check.”

Chloe looks over at Kate and nearly topples over onto her ass, bunny and all. Kate looks beautiful, but that’s nothing unusual; she always looks beautiful. The subtle makeup that Alyssa’s used on her sets off her natural beauty perfectly, understated but lovely as always. Her hair’s in a braid with loose tendrils framing her face, which is a style Chloe’s never seen on her before and definitely could get used to seeing. And her dress is… Well. It’s a lovely dress; Chloe’s no great authority on dresses - she hasn’t worn one willingly since she was about four - but she can tell that much. It’s definitely picked up some dust here and there from Kate’s adventure under her bed, but it’s still obviously a nice dress. Tasteful, of course, or at least it would be if it were zipped in the back.

Which it definitely isn’t.

On anyone else, it would still be a modest look. But on Kate… This is by far the most of her that Chloe’s seen in months of dating. Kate’s very much a “take it slow” kind of person, and even though historically Chloe’s tended to be more of a “take it as soon and as often as I can get it” kind of person she respects Kate’s boundaries and is happy to let her girlfriend set the pace. So getting an eyeful of Kate’s naked collarbones, the round curve of an exposed shoulder, the suggestion of a bared back is basically the Kate Marsh equivalent of a nip slip.

“Um.”

“Oh, no, is it too much? I asked her not to do anything too excessive…”

“No, no, makeup’s fine. Great, even. You look… amazing.” Chloe wobbles onto her feet and holds out a hand to help Kate up. She presses a kiss into Alice’s soft fur and walks her over to her open cage. “Okay, cage time for bunnies. No more mischief tonight.” She tucks Alice inside and locks the cage door behind her.

“You’re so good with her,” Kate says, wrapping her arms around Chloe’s waist from behind. Normally she’d burrow her face into Chloe’s back, but she restrains herself and Chloe appreciates the effort to preserve the integrity of her suit even as she misses the contact. “This is the best behaved she’s been all night.”

“What can I say? You’re her mom; of course she’s going to rebel. Me, I’m more like the cool aunt.”

“Hmm. Cool step-mom, maybe.”

Chloe’s face warms with blush. She reaches down to place her hands over Kate’s and gives them an affectionate squeeze. “You, uh, you almost ready to go, babe?”

“Almost.” Kate pulls back and Chloe turns around to face her. It’s a struggle, but she keeps her eyes fixed on Kate’s face even as they long to trace the delicate, graceful line of her clavicles. Then Kate turns her back to Chloe, glancing back at her over her shoulder with a soft smile. “Zip me up?”

Chloe blinks stupidly for several seconds before she answers with a silent nod. Her mouth is too dry to speak human words. She has to close her eyes and collect herself for a moment when Kate turns her head away again, waiting patiently for her assistance. Her hands are actually shaking as she reaches for Kate, which is stupid. She’s literally stripped women before. She’s just helping one put more clothes on. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking over that.

She tenderly sweeps Kate’s braid aside with one hand, draping it forward over her shoulder to keep it clear of the zipper. Her fingertip barely skirts against the bared skin of Kate’s back, but she can feel her warmth like a brand. Chloe takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly to steady herself as she reaches for Kate’s zipper pull. It’s only when she sees Kate squirm slightly that she realizes she’s released her breath directly against Kate’s exposed back. She freezes.

“It’s okay,” Kate says when she feels Chloe tense up.

Chloe tries to force herself to relax. She attempts to ease the zipper up and it catches within the first inch. Tentatively, she reaches to brace one hand against Kate’s hip for leverage. The zipper slides free and Chloe delicately zips up the back of Kate’s dress. It traces the elegant line of her spine up toward the perfect points of her shoulder blades (Chloe notes two small birthmarks on Kate’s left just above her bra and suppresses the urge to lean down and kiss each in turn).

Chloe reaches around to gently guide Kate’s braid back to its rightful place when she’s done. She leans in boldly to press a kiss to Kate’s (still bare) shoulder, pausing millimeters away to give Kate time to signal her yes or no. Kate gives a small but unambiguous nod and Chloe kisses her shoulder firmly. Kate reaches her other arm across to tangle fingers in Chloe’s hair, holding her there gently for a moment.

Kate gives a contented sigh when Chloe pulls back, slipping her fingers free from Chloe’s blue locks. “Sorry if I messed up your hair.”

“Worth it,” Chloe tells her with a grin. She steals a quick moment to check her hair in Kate’s mirror, prompting a knowing giggle from her girlfriend. The damage is minimal; definitely worth it. She tidies it with a few quick sweeps of her hands.

Kate steps into the frame and slips an arm around Chloe’s waist. Chloe reciprocates with an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “What do you think?” Kate asks. “Prom Queens?”

Chloe wrinkles her nose. “I’ll be happy as long as they don’t dump pig’s blood on us. Anyway, I think someone would have to stuff the ballot box pretty hard for me to get elected anything at Blackwell after I dropped out.”

“A year after you left to pursue other options,” Kate corrects her. “Now that you’ve got your GED, I don’t think you technically count as a dropout.”

“Aww, but it’s my whole identity,” Chloe teases. She dips her head to drop a light kiss to the top of Kate’s head as Kate scowls playfully.

“Guess you’ll have to develop a new one, then.” She squeezes Chloe’s hip hard enough to shut her up. “You look really good in that tuxedo. I can’t wait to show you off.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? Not still worried about what people are gonna say when they see our prom pictures?”

“I’m still concerned,” Kate says thoughtfully. “But I’m more excited. I never thought I’d get to have this.” She turns to look at Chloe, and there’s so much warmth in her eyes that Chloe feels a sudden threatening prickle of tears in her own. “My mother and aunt fed me so many… bitter thoughts about what being gay might mean. All the things I’d never get to do or have because I didn’t think that gay people were allowed them. I never thought I’d get to love someone so much. I never thought I’d get to be loved in return. I never thought I’d get to just be a normal, happy girl on prom night, getting ready with her prom date to go and dance with her friends and have fun like anybody else. But look at me. Look at us!” She turns back to the mirror, leaning into Chloe’s arm. “We’re doing this. I’m going to the prom with my girlfriend, and we look amazing together, and we’re going to pose for stupid pictures and dance until our feet hurt and celebrate with our friends, and at the end of the night you’re going to walk me back to my room and kiss me goodnight because I won’t have to worry about my lipstick anymore and it’s all going to be perfect. And even if it isn’t perfect, it’s going to be ours.”

Chloe feels like she’s going to shake apart she’s so close to crying, eyeliner be damned. “H-hey, Katie?”

“Mm?” Kate turns to look at her sweetly, and god how did Chloe get so lucky to end up with this incredible girl.

“How much do you really care about the lipstick thing? Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

A dimpled smile breaks out across Kate’s face and Kate goes up on tiptoes, touching Chloe’s face lightly as she tilts up her face to kiss her. Chloe does her best to kiss her back like a normal person and not like a drowning woman. “Not as much as I care about you,” Kate answers when they pull apart again. She wipes a stray tear from Chloe’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so fucking okay. I might be the most okay I’ve ever been in my whole stupid life.” Chloe plants another kiss on Kate’s forehead. She’s about to start leading Kate to the door when she realizes she’s forgotten something important. She fumbles the corsage out of the inner pocket of her dad’s jacket and presents it to Kate. “Come on, let’s finish getting you suited up so we can light up the fucking dance floor and give all the haters the middle finger. The metaphorical middle finger,” she amends when Kate starts to open her mouth. “Not gonna get myself thrown out of your prom; don’t worry.”

Kate holds out her wrist and Chloe has to bend to slide the corsage into place. There’s a surreal moment when she’s holding Kate’s perfect hand in hers and gently guiding the corsage into place, practically down on one knee to get the proper angle, where she wonders if this is what it might feel like to propose. She can see it so clearly in her mind’s eye: getting down on one knee, probably wearing this same tuxedo because that way it’s like her dad would get to be there, still holding Kate’s hand, still looking up into her beautiful and shining eyes as she gazes down at her with more love than any human heart could hold, Gramma Price’s ring resized to fit Kate’s finger…

Chloe wobbles, suddenly lightheaded, and Kate reaches out to steady her the way she always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asks again, brow furrowing slightly with concern.

Chloe presses a reverent kiss to Kate’s knuckles and rises back to her feet. “I’m good,” she says, trying not to sound as dazed as she feels. “I’m great. I’m fucking amazing. You’re amazing. We’re amazing. Let’s go show all of Blackwell how fucking amazing we are.”

Kate nods, grinning. “Yes, please.” She holds out her hand and Chloe takes it. Before they can make it all the way to the door, Chloe’s phone buzzes in her pocket. With an exaggerated sigh, she pauses to check it.

Mom: Chloe Elizabeth Price, don’t you dare forget to send me pictures!

Kate reads over her shoulder. “Maybe we should show your mom how amazing we are first?”

Chloe grumbles and rolls her eyes but obligingly opens up the photo ap on her phone. As annoying as Joyce can be (seriously, wtf with the Mom ESP?!), Chloe knows that Kate relishes this kind of maternal approval and that she’s never going to get it from her own mother. Joyce has her faults - fucking hell does she have her faults - but even Chloe has to admit that she’s been pretty awesome with Kate. She’s all but adopted her, honestly.

Chloe holds up her phone and lets Kate nestle under her arm. A perfect fit as always.

“Say ‘prom night!’” Kate says, grinning giddily.

“Prom night!” Chloe says without taking her eyes off of Kate, and she takes the picture.

#prompt fill #prompt fic #prompt ghost #fanfic #life is strange #chloe price #kate marsh #pricemarsh #ghost writes

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thisweekingundamwing · 4 years ago

Text

This Week in Gundam Wing July 26 - 01 August 2020

Here’s this week’s roundup!

Remember to give your content creators some love! And join in on the events at the bottom!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

Unraveled https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379161

F/M, Trowa Barton/Reader

Trowa Barton, Reader

Romance, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Bathing/Washing, ritual bathing

His little witch, he mused with a slight tilt of lips. Even after years of being with you, he still couldn’t get enough of watching you.

Tonight, he vowed, he would keep you company while you bathed.

Lazy Day https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379695

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader

Heero Yuy, Reader

Romance, Lemon, Lime, Reader-Insert

You would enjoy this day. Every minute of it. And, you vowed, you would have a repeat of it in New York.

Twenty Kisses (Ch. 6 & 7) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038704/chapters/61620076

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader

Heero Yuy, Reader

Romance, Kissing, Drabble Collection, Reader-Insert

Kissing Heero is something special.

Deadly Intent https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576657/chapters/62069890

Mature

F/M, Heero/Reader, ???/Reader

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Wufei Chang, Lady Une, Relena Peacecraft, Reader

Reader Insert, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Drama, Angst, Romance, Violence, Lime

Eleven years is a long time for a ghost to come back and haunt him. But Heero Yuy finds himself unable to dodge or outrun it. It’s the start of a dangerous cat and mouse game between one of the most powerful organizations in the world and a loner who has every intention of dragging him down with her. After all, she has come with deadly intent.

@coffeetailor

Emergence (Ch. 12) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322880/chapters/62023231

Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei, Sally Po

Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, borrowers fusion but don't call them borrowers, disturbing themes like people trafficking from the bad guys, Size Difference, Will probably be a series, alternate canon events, Macro/Micro

Series: Part 1 of Emergence Series

When the war ended, things went a little strange. First, Duo vanished after never having let them see him in person. Then, years later, a tiny race of people are discovered. And that's just the start of things.

@lifeaftermeteor

LAM!Verse https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/625293600094355456/private-island-location-redacted-fiji-south

Private Island [location redacted]

Fiji, South Pacific

14 August 211

Une and Sally arrived on-island to blue skies, a functioning jeep, and a personal escort by Lucrezia Noin.

perryvic & Zaganthi (Caffiends)

All Go Unto Once Place https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520368

M/M, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada

Treize Khushrenada, Quatre Raberba Winner, Change Wufei

Cameos, Anxiety, Mental Health Issues, Aftermath of Torture, ZERO System (Gundam Wing), Alternate Universe - Stargate Atlantis Fusion

He chose the study because it was formal and the least used room in the house, and brought in coffee and water because he needed something to do with his hands. "I'm sorry to request the house call. I haven't been in a reliable enough state to leave the house."

"I quite understand," Bedelia murmured. "Is this the place you feel most comfortable talking?"

He took the coffee and sat in one of the low overstuffed reading chairs rather than at the desk. "Yes. I, what we discussed a couple of weeks ago, you know. Surprising only to me, apparently, it went terribly." He cradled the coffee, watching her select where to sit, posture and movement impeccable as ever.

@simulacraryn

Higurashi https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592344#main

Heero Yuy

Higurashi = Mundane life, living hand-to-mouth. This is a VERY old fic of my (from 2008...), about what life might have been like for Heero after the war.

The Manwell

The Silencer and the Sicarian (Ch. 1 & 2) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478938/chapters/61805053

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Trowa Barton/Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei/Solo

Characters: Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei, Solo (Gundam Wing), Hilde Schbeiker, Catherine Bloom, Kyouju H | Instructor H

Additional Tags: Wufei POV, Duo POV, Trowa POV, Solo POV

Series: Part 4 of The Brothers Maxwell

It was just one vow. A simple but necessary promise to respect life -- both human and fey -- but can Duo hold to it when his resolve is put to the ultimate test?

@tziganecaffiends & Zaganthi (Caffiends)

Dust to Dust https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519633/chapters/61915789

M/M, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada

Treize Khushrenada, Chang Wufei, Mariemaia Khushrenada, Duo Maxwell

Domestic Fluff, Bondage, bottom Treize, Mental Instability, Mental Health Issues, Aftermath of Violence, Aftermath of Torture, Rape Aftermath, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Kidnapping, Subspace, Subdrop, Diplomacy, Alternate Universe - Stargate Atlantis Fusion, ZERO System (Gundam Wing), Graphic Dipictions of Violence

It was unbearable, it was too much, and his heart was trying its best to jump out of his chest. Treize managed to get his knees pulled up, and pressed his forehead against them, struggling to breathe as the anxiety crawled up from his gut and clenched around his heart. Not there, anywhere but there, and he'd been fine seeing it in ZERO, not fine, but okay, livable, but being there, smelling the familiar antiseptic hell and must of the place, took his legs out from under him.

He could play forward on all of the other scenarios he hadn't wanted to explore, and he knew when that door opened it wasn't going to be Wufei. It was never going to be what he'd wanted, no matter hard he'd played at it back home with Wufei.

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@2pcbiscuit

https://2pcb.tumblr.com/post/625195682010120192/am-i-a-furry-artist-now-quatre-is-supposed-to-be

Raccoon!Trowa, and other cute surprises.

@antarespromise

https://antarespromise.tumblr.com/post/625175674322305024

WuFei Chang

https://antarespromise.tumblr.com/post/625274951362117632

Duo Maxwell

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/625096842616717312/having-waaaay-too-much-fun-rediscovering-art

Trowa Barton

@grey-sentry

https://grey-sentry.tumblr.com/post/624917334680829952/next-batch-of-artwork-for-the-gw-art-discord

Heero & Doktor S

https://grey-sentry.tumblr.com/post/624917124777951232/art-made-for-the-gw-art-discord-i-tried-to-follow

Relena & Catherine

@gundayum

https://gundayum.tumblr.com/post/625232214658056192/i-relish-in-being-a-terrible-human-being

Relena & Heero

@oekakimemo

https://oekakimemo.tumblr.com/post/625242524130361345/20200728-digital

Relena Darlian/Peacecraft

@tatakaumono

https://tatakaumono.tumblr.com/post/625240776436252672/its-evens-propaganda-month-dont-tag-as

Quatre/Duo

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/625161359751036928/im-so-lucky-to-have-awesome-friends-thank-you

GW T-shirts

@cynthiaandsamus

https://cynthiaandsamus.tumblr.com/post/625268346914586624/like-everyone-in-gundam-wing-is-a-ridiculously

Zechs Merquise

@janaverse

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/625277358889451521/aannnnndddd-theyre-done-3-the-process-was-a

Heero & Duo silhouettes

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/625280260361093120/for-scale-btw-they-are-perfectly-framed-from

For scale - Heero & Duo silhouettes

Head Canons:

@disturbed02girl

https://disturbed02girl.tumblr.com/post/625254324341194752/gw-fashion-mix-day-off

GW Fashion Mix - Day Off : Duo, Heero, Trowa, WuFei, Quatre

Fandom Discourse:

@lifeaftermeteor

https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/625289823670927360/whats-all-this-then-although-the-gw-discord

Discord Meet-up! 0900 EST on both Saturday (August 29) and Sunday (August 30)

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/625002948624318464/iria-father-quatre-youre-family-you-shouldnt

Iria & Rashid

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/625184158043570177/duo-to-trowa-are-you-trying-to-hurt-my-feelings

Duo at Trowa

Calendar Events:

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, August 7th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/625255859848642560/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-august

In need of SUMMER & FALL/AUTUMN prompts!

@gwoc-october

GW OC October 2020!

Help pick out prompts! https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/621130082429337600/hello-gundam-wing-folks-thats-right-gw-oc

@seasons-of-gundamwing

Summer of Hilde!

Check the page today! The full prompt list was set to post at 10AM!

We also have an AO3 collection now! Come check it out. https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/624191236146855936/seasons-of-gundam-wing-archive

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar

https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/624053314842230784/event-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #July 26 - 01 August 2020

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 5 years ago

Text

Ok so guys i finally got part of it done(like three or four days later buuuut

I drew two sets of the families for my anxceit au!

Please meet virgil's family the Ravenwoods!

And as curtesy some info about them

Daneil Ravenwood

Hes been raising Virgil and Andy on his own since virge was about 8 and a half and andy was 6 months old

Hes a english and literature professor at the local college(that logan's parents also work at)

Hes in his late 50s early 60s current time( where virgil is 21 and andy is 13)

Hes also a published and well established fiction writer, but he writes under an alias

Hes a super supportive dad and teacher, even if he doesnt understand it he'll 100% support the decisions his kids make (ex: "oh your wiccan now? Cool virgy! Im glad you found a religion that makes you happy, though...can you explain it to me again?" "Oh andy you want to be switched to the art program? No problem! I'll call your counsellors tomorrow ok?" "Oh boyfriend huh? Thats great buddy, when do i get to meet him??")

Hes got a deep hearty laugh that makes you smile

Dad jokes to virgils mortification

Hes a skeptic but loves listening to and talking to virgil about his beliefs

had the philosophy of "the punishment should fit the crime, but you should be allowed to stumble and learn with it" raising the boys and wasnt too strict with them. Also never threatened punishments, only threatened playful embarrassment

The boys got their sass from somewhere, but he does remind them to mind their manners and watch their timing

Gentle giant as he is 6'3

Black hair peppered with grey and white and usually forgets tonshave his stubble

Passionate about his jobs, can get lost in his work

Andy Ravenwood

Virgil's baby brother, and he fucking adores his brother( even sometimes babbles about him to his friends at school and proudly talks about his "youtuber big brother"

This does not stop him from poking fun at virgil of course

Art boi!! Hes the top of his art classes!!

He is the one art kid that always has like three sketchbooks on him at all times

Loves the color purple

Look ok he knows he KNOWS his hair looks like his brothers it wasnt supposed to ok the original plan baCKFIRED AND HE COULDNT TURN BACK

Unlike virgil he doesnt cover his freckles

He has the same color eyes as their dad(grey-blue)

Andy loves animals! Especially raccoons!! Those are his favorite.( he happily took on the responsiblility of taking care of virgils cat when he moved out)

Hes a pretty cheerful kid if hes comfortable around you, but shy if he doesnt know you

Hes got an anxiety disorder but hes still living his best life

Virgil Ravenwood

Our main Cryptid goth( he dialed it down for the family photo)

Hes twenty one and lives on his own in an apartment complex close to downtown, which is a good 15 to 20 minutes from his childhood home so he visits regularly( like three times every other week)

Boi loves his family to bits, and has so SOOOO many good stories he’ll happily talk about

Has both his own paranormal youtube channel and a joint youtube channel with his boyfriend Ethen where they explore and investigate haunted places(both well known and stumbled across)

He has the same eye color as their mother, blue violet, which stands out a little more than his dad’s or brother’s

He covers his freckles with foundation because hes insecure about them

Did a year of junior college before deciding school wasnt exactly for him anymore, but still goes to events for his best friend Logan

Works at a cafe downtown that stays open pretty late( they do dinner its almost a diner but not) part time, and the other half does youtube for a living

Has a cat that had to stay in his childhood home named Sally that Andy takes care of for him

Has been considering getting another cat for his apartment

Big firm believer in the unknown and the paranormal/supernatural

Hes wiccan and has an alter in his bedroom thats apart of his facecam background

He has a tarot deck but doesnt really do readings other than little ones for himself, as divination isnt his strong suit

Has a big crystal collection hes been adding to since high school

He can sing but doesnt have alot of confidence in his voice so he just doesnt

And also introducing~

The picani-sanders family! Aka ethen's big ol family

From left to right

Patton Picani

Ethen's older brother(by two years)

Him and ethen are emile's foster kids, but he adopted him when they were like nine and seven.

Patton is 23 and happily works at the library downtown as a librarian and a reader to the kids

He loves music and musicals and all things disney (partially thanks to his boyfriend roman)

He and Ethen come off as complete opposites and they have a very playful relationship, always teasing each other

He loves his family alot and loves babysitting his little brother Thomas whenever his schedule allows it, especially during times of year Emile and Remy get swamped with work

He loves to knit and sew and make things!!! He makes sweaters and jackets and dresses and customizes clothes!! He could make a living on it if he really wanted!! (but he just does it for friends and loved ones instead- Andy has a hoodie that Patton sew wool on the inside to keep him warm and Andy adores it)

Hes really outgoing and friendly and seems to make friends wherever he goes!

He’s known Roman since they were kids and was crushing on him all through school until they got together senior year

He loves to bake and cook and help his dad make dinner whenever hes at home

Hes a sappy romantic and loves cliches

He has a huge collection of stuffed animals that hes been slowly transferring to his and roman’s apartment since he moved out(theres ALOT)

Emile Picani

The dad!! Hes in his mid 50s

He works as a singular and couples therapist and can have a bit of a wacky schedule

Hes been raising Patton and Ethen since they were little and loves his kids so damn much

So goddamn supportive of what they do, sometimes to the point its embarrassing(for Ethen)

Hes engaged to Remy Sanders and once their married their just going to combine their last names

He loves cartoons and gardening! And has his own collection of stuffed animals and toys(which hes been sharing with Thomas)

He loves making dad jokes and him and Patton make them all the time at Ethen

Hes a damn great cook and has been teaching his boys to cook for years now, and loves making big meals

Not really a strict parent, more of a sit down and talk it out kinda parent

Is part of the PTA of Thomas’s school

Actually used to be a punk in school

Thomas Sanders-Picani

The youngest! Hes 8 years old!

Our boy loves to read and write! He writes tons and tons of stories!

Hes got a huge imagination and likes to daydream

Hes bubbly even though he isnt the most social he still has a good group of friends!

Our lil boi is an actor of course! He loves getting parts in the school plays and in class assignments.

Hes in his schools choir and gets vocal lessons from Roman’s mama

His room is filled with toys and books and notebooks and pencils, and even though he tries his best to keep it clean it gets messy every week.(cleaning it is his weekly chore)

He has two best friends named Joan and Talyn that hes been friends with now since kindergarden and theyve been nearly inseperable ever since, its not uncommon for one of both of them to be at each others house on any given weekend

Hes Remy’s kid but has started calling himself by Emile’s last name too since they moved in with the Picani’s

Doesnt have too many memories of his mother but the ones he does have are all happy and pleasant(thankfully)

Calls Emile baba and Remy dada to distinguish them better

Loves his older brothers especially when they play with him, He also loves watching the old videos of Ethen’s theater performances and sometimes pesters him to reenact scenes from them( his favorite is the middle school production of ‘Alice in Wonderland’)

Ethen Picani

Our other main boy, hes also twenty one

He lives with his best and childhood friend Remus Prince in two bedroom apartment across town near the college

Does youtube full time for a living

the “black sheep” of the family as he and Remus call him

He majored in theater in his two years of college

Loves reptiles but doesnt have any because their apartment complex doesnt allow pets and he doesnt want to get him and remus kicked out since their apartment is close to Remus’s work

Has a car he loving refers to as his “hand me down junk heap” Because he got Patton’s first car when patton got a new one

He loves the old thing though

Has a good relationship with his parents. He loves his dad Emile and he likes Remy well enough

Him and remy have a very casual, relaxed relationship.( Ex: “ Dad you need to stop letting sleepless bums into the house” “ He’ll stop doing that when he stops letting punk wannabes into his kitchen, now get over here kid.” )

Loves his boyfriend Virgil to death and likes to spoil him when he can(even though virgil tells him to save his money for rent)

Hes more of a open skeptic but he’ll happily debate things with Virgil, and enjoys making videos for their joint youtube channel and being proven otherwise

He also has his own solo youtube channel where he does abandon urban exploration( sometimes with Remus tagging along for the thrill)

Remus has been calling him by the nickname “Dee” since middle school when they played Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Remus called him Dee so often he made it stick as a nickname years and years later. He refuses to let it die and Ethen has just accepted his fate

Remy Sanders

Hes around Emile’s age( mid 50′s) and looks the tallest in the family at 6′3

He came into the family later, when the boys were about 20 and 18( when thomas was about 5 or so)

Hes pretty laid back but surprising good at being strict, so he balances out Emile’s parenting style

Hes a divorcee and got guardianship of Thomas, though hes on a friendly and civil relationship with thomas’s mother and takes him to visit her three times a month( theyre currently working out more visitations and possibly thomas staying with his mother a couple weeks every months but thats still in the works)

Hes an insomiac and (usually) works night shifts as a security guard for a security renting business so his working hours can be a little unpredicitble, but he almost always works at least two night shifts and graveyard shifts a week. Hes paid both a salary plus an additional commissions by employers so its well worth it

He spends as much time with his kid and the boys as he can regardless of his wonky sleep schedule

Hes a bit of a tough love kinda person, and hes snarky and mouthy and doesnt hesitate to speak his mind

Loves Emile soooo goddamn much he talks about him alot at work to his fellow security guards. Theyre the ones who helped him pick a ring when he proposed actually

Oh yeah the two are engaged did I mention that?

He fuels Emile’s plushie collecting, even if he knows he probably shouldnt( But oh well, it makes him smile and thats all he wants to see)

Looks punk now but he was the biggest straight laced prep in highschool that comparing him now to him in highschool gives you whiplash

Would fucking die for his family. No one messes with his fiance or his kids, he doesnt care if two of them are fully capable adults

And its done!! Two of the four main families is finished!

And watch out because im also coloring these digitally(its just taking awhile :/) but those will be getting posted soon...I hope...Im trying

But here you go Virgil’s and Ethen’s families in two cute family photos!

Let me just add im so fucking proud of The Picani-Sanders photo because it was a struggle to fit them all in the picture and get the heights right and the entire side of my arm was grey with pencil lead by the time I was done but it turned out great!

Up next is Roman and Remus’s family the Princes and Logan’s family the Daniels!!

Art references are credited to @the-pastel-peach @aimasup and @underdog-arts , especially @aimasup and @underdog-arts for getting 8 year old thomas to look like a kid because im not normally good at drawing little kids but after practicing with some of their art as my reference and inspiration he turned out really well!!

I hope you guys enjoy!!

Taglist

@phantommoonpeople

@sweetsweetemo

@leesacrakon

@amazable01

@starbucks-remy

@jemthebookworm

@max-is-tired

@seriously-a-dragon

@sar-kasstic

@soupspam

@aimasup

@sugarglider9603

@underdog-arts

@strawberryjellystuff

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