#ill turn this into a tiny comic

[mother-of-fuckers]

"wHy DoEs ThE dAyCaRe AtTeNdAnT nEeD tO bE sO tAlL?"

have you ever known a small child that wasn't ready to risk it all just to see a little higher. Small children, much like cats, will climb anything and everything at the speed of goddamn light, the daycare attendant is the only one tall enough to catch them before they decide to do gymnastics and tumble off of God knows where and break god knows what. Eat my shirt, Ron DeSantis

[sparrowclangen]

Deep in a grotto, a close-knit clan of cats thrived in harmony until tragedy struck. A mysterious illness swept through the feline community, leaving behind only two survivors: Crestpaw and Riverpaw, two spirited apprentices with the weight of their clan's legacy on their tiny shoulders.

Deeply inspired by @/Gray-Thistleclan, this blog will be a comic following Crestpaw and Riverpaw as they rebuild their clan from the ground up. Fighting for survival, and learning how to exist on their own, these two will overcome their grief with each other.

Welcome to Sparrowclan!

Main blog: @mimikyrie

Posting schedule; Every week or earlier you can expect to see a new panel!

TW for gore, death, grief, and the like. I have Hunger and Mass Extinction turned on in the game settings. I am also privy to drawing gore, as well as exploring uncomfortable subjects through my stories.

Asks are turned on and questions aimed towards me (The creator) or the comic characters are welcomed!

[newtsoda]

When school is torture...

A comic about autism and “school avoidance”.

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

Commence Alt Text:

[PAGE 1]

Title: 'It's Not School Avoidance – Trauma, Burnout and PTSD in the Education System'. The first panel shows a woman, her face veiled in shadow and surrounded by a thicket of thorns. She looks alien, with pointed ears and cat-like eyes. The second panel shows her drowning, her hand grasping at the air. The next panel shows ghost-like arms twisting around her. The speech bubbles read: When I was a kid, school was the stuff of nightmares. An intense and overwhelming environment, overstimulating and demanding, and entirely unforgiving. It's where I learned to mask and how to lie about all manner of things. I faked so many illnesses just so I could have the break I couldn't ask for. All so that I could somehow stay afloat in a system that did not recognise my needs. Neurotypicals don't understand just how much school is not designed for people who are not like them. Nor do they understand what it's like when you have to return to the place that is hurting you, day after day after day.

[Page 2]

The woman lies with her head on a pillow, staring wide-eyed at the reader. Thorns creep around the edges of the frame. The text reads: It's nearly twenty years later, and I still have the nightmares. Not the same vague dreams about not doing my homework everyone gets, but vivid night terrors that revolve around school and the things it made me feel. I've been told it's a symptom of CPTSD. The second panel shows a dagger with thorns wrapped around it as it is slowly dragged into their midst. The text reads: Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder develops over a series of prolonged traumatic events. A disturbingly high number of autistic adults go on to develop it and can trace the root of their trauma back to the torturous experiences of their school years. So, I guess it's safe to say I'm not alone. But what's worse: It's still happening today.

[Page 3]

A girl is at the centre of the page, tears streaming down her face as scissors cut through her wings. Blood drips down the page. Thorns creep towards her. Another panel shows the woman's back with the shredded remnants of her own cut wings. The text reads:  Autistic children are being dragged through a grim education system that does not get their needs, quietly suffering. Parents are denied support if their child makes good grades or is quiet in class, because all is well. But the school doesn't see the tears and fights getting to the gates in the morning. Or the meltdowns/shutdowns as soon as the child gets home. It doesn't matter what's happening to their mental health. That a bubbly, happy child who loved to learn has turned into a despondent, empty shell of their former self. Above all else, school emphasises attendance rates. As long as that child is still showing up every day, it's seen as a success, no matter the cost—and the cost, sadly, is often steep for people like us.

[Page 4]

The girl and the woman are wrapped in a towering mass of thorns. Swords jut from the wounded woman's chest while she looks down at the girl who reaches for a hand trying to rescue her from her plight. The text reads: “Your child just needs to develop more resilience.” An infamous line that keeps rearing its ugly head. It comes from a place of ignorance, from people who have no idea how resilient these young people already are from living in a world not designed for their neurotype. But what can parents do? They're witnessing the damage forced classroom time is doing to their children, seeing it destroy them, but feel powerless to help. Keeping them home for recovery results in fines, warnings, and intimidation tactics. Seeing no other way out, some parents are forced to take their child out of school for good, opting for home schooling instead. They report needing years to repair the damage done to their child's mental health.

[Page 5]

The woman is seen healing the girl's back. Tiny wings sprout where hers were cut. The text reads: Homeschooling can allow parents to slowly build their children back up, coaxing them back to their former selves. But not everybody has the means to homeschool, and while it should always be a choice, it should never be one forced by desperation. The next panel shows the woman's own shredded wings. The final one shows her defending her child. Text: This whole thing is excruciating for autistic parents who experienced it all themselves while growing up and know exactly the damage that is being done, yet find themselves unable to protect their child from suffering the same fate. I want to be a parent one day, but the thought of school already fills me with dread. I want my child to benefit from a well-rounded education without paying the steep mental health price I had to pay. It shouldn't be too much to ask! And yet, I've fully prepared myself for the battles I'll have to fight.

[Page 6]

The page shows the woman twirling the girl around while she holds her hands and the girl flies with her new, full-grown wings. The woman's wings are still shredded, but she smiles knowing that she was able to help her daughter. The text reads: I want to raise the next generation of autistic people unburdened by school trauma or CPTSD. We need more autistic-friendly options, and lockdown and the pandemic showed that it's possible!  We need flexible schooling, less classroom time, more opportunities to do schoolwork from home, and low intensity classrooms for children who don't have parents who can support learning from home. Allow for recovery time and stop penalising low attendance rates! We want the education system to recognise the damage it's doing to young people and believe parents when they plead for support. There is more than one way to achieve learning outcomes, and we deserve a system that works for us.

[couch-house]

2023 baybeeeee. havent done an art summary in a while since i basically stopped drawing early 2020 and didn't get back on the horse until mid-2022 (i wonder... what could have caused that!) i dont feel like my art has really changed this year, only in the ways that I draw specific sonic characters (looking through my archive is fun bc i can see the progression of the diseases known as Giving Them Big Eyebrows and Drawing The Monoeye) and--more exciting 4 me--my practice with paneling comics! :)

i think the progression is much more noticeably when you line it up with last year's sonic art... i can see all the Milestones.. more talking abt that under the cut

May: couch gets into sonic. June: Yucky Sonic 1.0. this was also the month when i Heard Of fleetway super. July: couch comes back from brazil, having read stc. this is also when i start dong actual short comics. compare may -> june -> july. (also please forgive whatever tf i was doing with skintones. i needed some practice)

august: merger au takes shape. dog invented. also i just really like that speed racer sonic mspaint picture. its fun :) september: deep in the fleet mines. october: i lose a lot of steam and mostly just doodle. another comic comparison for those three months:

november: frontiers comes out. i go crazy mode and make that sonic + knuckles comic with the pretty backgrounds and LOTS OF TINY TEXT. december: winter break AND im tired. january 2023 i come back insane crazy mode and write some fanfiction?? still havent finished that LOL. made some nice cover art :) february: i shift into knuckles mode fora month. make another comic. this one is much better i think :) november -> february

march: i shift into transfem metal sonic mode. also just stick to a lot of doodling. also write more fanfiction. crazy. april: transitory period as i shift back into stc/exit: sonic mode. may: more fanfiction. more comics. i really like how both of these turned out :) while the last two were definitely taking a lot more notes from stc, i think around here i start paying attention to and trying to learn from more creative panelling from artists i admire. like @/superemeralds THOAM and @/starrjoy's pandora au.

june: i play sa2 and it's good. july: i play unleashed and it is both miserable and good. i get in kind of an artistic frustration zone and wiggle my way out. august: idk i think im just chillin. super react dot jpeg happens. it's not even named that, it's named after the other image on the canvas, which was maria holding baby shadow. more comics.

september: i burn out for a bit. get real tired. eventually get back up and make more comics. the goal here and last month has become "try to make more interesting panel shapes. I've noticed other artists don't just use rectangles--try playing with irregular polygons and see where it gets you." well it gets you mixed results as you learn :) also i think after that pause i accept the monoeye into my life. sigh...

october: oc showdown starts and @/neurotypical-sonic asks me to make some halloweeny art :) feels like i dont do much this month bc i focus on those. november: A LOT OF ART?? INSANE. more oc showdown stuff. i play shadow the hedgehog (2005). it's good and i love it. i draw a ton of shit on one canvas for it. Fucking Dember: i have shifted back into stc/EXIT mode. motivation's a little weird bc work's a little weird. doing commissions also makes it weird. well im having fun and being myself :) a final handful of comics from this month:

idk maybe ill do something sicko crazy b4 the end of the year. mayb i'll follow exit sonic's example and #GetWorse. who knows :) well this is fun i love looking at my art and seeing and noticing things. thank u all for your support and I hope we all have a great 2024!

[patchiko]

Thank you for responding 😭😭😭 lol he IS a runner dog. Leave the door open for even a tiny bit and he’s gone in the blink of an eye.

So speaking of dogs/cats do you think AK Jason would ever get a pet?

I’ve always thought of Jason as a dog person (I think in the comics it’s mentioned he had a dog named sparky and he had a pitbull (❤️) in RHATO) but as for AK Jason I don’t really have any thoughts on a pet situation. If he did get a dog I could see it maybe as a move for mental or emotional support… (I mean I got my own dog so I could have company, learn responsibilities and get exercise. I love him so much 🥺)

But ohhhh just thinking of Jason coming home and the dogs going nuts cause “dads” home just melts my heart

(Gunna be 🌻 anon in case I do any future requests haha 😂)

FIRST OFFICIAL REGULAR ANON THIS FEELS SO COOL!

🌻 anon, in my brain he has or gets a dobermann. (mainly bc i have one) BUT UR SO REAL, a dog’s responsibility and bond is something he slowly comes to accept and love AND UR SO RIGHHT HIS DOG WOULD LOVE HIM SMMM

THIS GOT SO LONG SO IM JUST TURNING IT INTO

Ak!Jason Todd With A Dog Headcanon

I think a dog would be really helpful with Jason accepting love.

I think at first itd be hard to him but as the dog grows, jason starts getting it. Why people love having animals so much, their simplicity of love, loyalty, and innocence becomes a virtue to him.

the routine and companionship <3

jasons dog ends up being the reason he has to get up everyday, a responsibility that isn’t based on the foundation of a legacy but a bond, a seemingly simple bond.

nothing over the top either. a simple transaction of ill give you anything you need and ill give you everything i have.

and once he comprehends his dog’s loyalty, and how much his dog gives him and the little he gives his dog compared to as much as hes given others

ITS SO OVER, HE’D LIGHT UP 80 MFS IN A WALMART PARKING LOT FOR HIS FUCKIN DOG—

just him thinking about the fact how such little things can turn into an oddly complex relationship

realistically this dog doesn’t even get to see most of his life, but he’d be there for all of the dogs

and then he gets it, how much it means.

FUCK I LOVE MY DOGGG MY BABY MY BABY

and your honor, he’d love a dobermann so much.

OKAY, a lot of people see Dobermanns as big scary breeds but i have one and he is so the opposite (turns out a lot of dobermanns are)

The whole reason Dobermanns couldnt be uses as war dogs anymore is because of how loyal they are. They couldn’t function properly if they weren’t with the person that trained them.

They latch onto someone and will only ever fully listen to that ONE person.

So I think a dog like this would be really nice for jason, with this along with thinking about how much mine helped me out / the way mine improved my mental.

yes im projecting bc i love my dog so much

Dobes are high maintenance when it comes to exercise, so i think Jason would really enjoy the scheduling one puts him on.

one walk should be an hour and some change long and they need at the very least TWO of these a day

so i think i like that it gets him outside and he gets to bond with his dog without having to do some over the top play session

jason also canonically did track if I’m not wrong, and because of him having a military schedule, i can totally see him doing morning jogs or just some random long ass walk with his dog at like 4AM

My dobes follows me, even if i move to a separate part of my couch he always moves to lay by my feet. so ill think of Jays dog just laying in a room where he trains, jason just enjoys the presence of his dog.

NOT TO PROJECT ON HIM TOOOO MUCH but jason definitely has full blown conversations with his dog, or just randomly starts venting to him

and the dog always does some silly shit that has him biting back a smile

or the dog just rests his body against his and jason just feels like its listening so he just keeps goin

idk if you guys every see a dobermann get excited but they start running around and they look like a stupid deer and Jason can’t not smile at it.

makes jason feel especially good when he comes home and the dogs so excited

jason could come home after the worst night shift in his fuckign vigilante life and can’t help his smile bc of the way his dog runs up to him

he’ll be so fuckin annoyed but as soon as his silly long faced ahh dobermann run up to him, hes cheesing so hard.

especially bc of the way the dog slips around bc of his smooth tile/wooden floor

Dobermann also have weirdly distinct and human personalities, a long with being smart as shit so i think itd stimulate jasons brain a lot

jason would try to teach his dobermann to be more of a guard dog, but the dobes would only show his training when hes protective of jason. Everything else, he just like jason is just.. standing.

his dog is also awkward, but i also think his dog has anxiety, more specifically attachment anxiety bc Jason spoils the shit out of him.

projecting so bad but jason could be having a mental breakdown and his dobes will come up to him and start whining for a walk, and that walk, that schedule just helps jason get back on track so much.

gets his gears turning, just the sense of normalcy he finally is getting.

he stops crying while leaving the house or getting ready to go, by the end of the walk, hes still sad, really fucking sad, but a calm kind of sad, he doesn’t wanna punch a wall, or fight someone, or drown himself in whiskey, he just wants to lay down with his dog and go to bed.

and then when he gets home he continues his dogs routine

he gives him water and food, he checks his paws for glass of anything stuck while he drinks or eats so he’ll stay still because his dog always waddles away if hes not pre-occupied, he’ll wipe his dogs face cause its always so wet and messy after he eats, and they lay down on a his couch and falls asleep.

:( loves his dog sm, just grounds him

and what kills jason about it, is the dog probably doesn’t even comprehend that.

he’d literally die for his dog.

dobes just walking up to jay and wanting his affection and jason will always at the very least rest his hand on his head which for most dobermann’s is the only thing they need.

the first time jason ever really felt connected to his dog is when it comes up to him and lays by him while he’s sitting on the floor after a bad night, he likes it because the dog has the full ability to go lay on a bed or his couch but he chooses to cold, hard floor, just because jasons there.

just how mundane it is having a dog makes him feel so normal kefhidjdkd kisses him

i love dogs, i like dogs with training issues, i like dogs that get a little more nervous then others, i like dogs that have been through something, i like dogs that seem just a little more human then other dogs. i love dogs

anyway heres my dog

sniffle sniffle sob sob laying on the floor with my dog as we speak, requests / inbox is open if you wanna drop something

[thewolvesof1998]

Last Line Tag/Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by the lovely @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @fortheloveofbuddie @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @forthewolves @giddyupbuck

Okay so I did say yesterday that this WIP was going to stay as notes but I couldn't help myself so here's the inspiration:

and the Last Line...paragraph...s:

“And why do I have the displeasure of you darkening my doorstep, Buckley?” The man in question gives him a roguish smile and leans against the bar in a move that is purposely meant to highlight his bulging biceps, Eddie does not look at them, “Well the boss is here to see the old lady and I thought you could use some company.” Eddie could spy Athena and Nash held up in one of the inn’s darker corners and sure enough there seemed to be more than business going on between them. He looks away, he wasn’t being paid to be nosey, he’s paid to man the bar and be some muscle if any of the patrons get a little too rowdy.  And if Athena wanted to be in bed with as well as in business with the kind of man Bobby Nash is, it wasn’t any of his business. Expect for the six-foot-two problem in front of him, who just couldn’t seem to take a hint. Buckley is trouble, Eddie can see it from a mile away and trouble is the last thing he needs right now.  “Dad!” A high-pitched voice calls and Eddie turns to look at his son as he pokes his head out the back room. Panic fills him, he does not want any of the patrons to know that his son is here, while he’s incredibly grateful to Athena for allowing Chris to be here while he works, the people who frequent this place are questionable at best and at worst Mr Nash and his crew and their less than legally sourced goods. He might not be his business but it doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of the goings-on. One might leave the Navy but its teachings never truly leave you and Eddie can tell a pirate from a mile away. But it’s not his business and he really needs this job so he keeps his head down and Chris as separate from it as he possibly can.  Eddie crouches down in front of him, blocking him from view as much as possible, “Chris, what did I say? Stay out-” “-Back, I know, but I’m hungry,” The young boy whines and Eddie can’t be angry when those coco-coloured eyes gaze up at him.  “Here,” Bucklet leans over the bar, holding out a big orange to Chris.  Chris’s eyes are almost as big as the orange as he stares at it, his hands reactively reach for it before he turns to Eddie, “Can I Dad?” He asks, obviously remembering the rule about not accepting things from strangers.  Eddie looks at Buck, trying to read the man's intentions, all of the possible reasoning racing through his head must show on his face because Buckley raises his other hand, “No strings,” He says. Eddie nods and Chris stretches the last few inches as takes the orange, it looks comically big in his son's tiny hands, “Thanks, mister.” “Buck, it’s what my friends call me.” “Thanks, Buck!” Chris says Eddie ruffles Chris’s hair, “Okay buddy, head out back, I’ll be in there shortly.” Chris nods before turning around, one hand gripping on doorframe as he slowly and carefully retreats.  Eddie watches him go, the underlying worry he always feels about his son and the illness that affects his movements making him briefly forget the audience he has.  “He’s super adorable,” Buckley says, Eddie whips his head around to look at him, “I, uh, I love kids,” He rambles, one hand scratching at his neck, a flush on his cheeks as pink as the mark on above his eyebrow and corner of his eye.  As far as Eddie can tell, Buckley is being sincere, “I love this one,” He says standing, “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s…not in the picture.” He doesn’t know why he says it, why he’s being the most honest he’s been in a while with a man he has every reason not to trust. “Buck, we’re going,” Nash calls from the door.  “Be right there Cap,” Buck nods farewell to Eddie, “Until next time Diaz.” He walks over to his captain, shooting a wink over his shoulder at Eddie before he steps out the door and into the night. Eddie sighs, definitely nothing but trouble. 

tagging: @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @try-set-me-on-fire @bekkachaos @buddierights @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @sammy-souffle @smilingbuckley

[ijumpbridges]

woah my first time requesting off anon

anywyaydbsbbdb if requests are open i’ll req Scp 035 x ghost!reader where whenever 035 is a little mean/“manipulative” towards reader, reader just scares the shit out of him for a week as a “haha i get the last laugh” kinda thing BRHDHHDSJH

thanks! and if you don’t feel comfortable writing this, your free to decline/delete it, no worries! ^^ (if any part of my request doesn’t make sense lmk!)

035 x Ghost!Reader

I love you… WHO SAID THAT

Anyways, request are open thank you for requesting, i also love Ms. Pauling.

It is unclear how you two meet, but it you two had stick together for a long time ago.

Every time Dyo wakes up you had be there in a corner greeting him or just around even before he takes over a host.

Overall your friendship with him is okey, but in all friendships there are always flaws.. very big ones.

He would literally try to annoy you on purpose to help him cuz he says that ‘we are friends right? Then help me with x or y” But then ignores you or invalidates your feelings.

This had happen for a while, but you decide to put a stop at it.

Since you are a ghost, ghost tend to have those weird days where reality turned towards you and being around has become ills to the point of feeling like you were about to have panic attack, but never had it.

Those times Dyo thought since more vulnerable, the better.

Oh he thought wrong..

___

“Hey… how are yo friend?” Dyo said coming closer to you, as you were on a corner trying not to loose your mind.

“Leave me alone Dyo, im not in the mood to be manipulated by you” You spitted out.

“Me? Manipulate you? Never!” He said with his fake tone, but you didn’t reply only looking away hoping he had left you alone.

“I need a tiny favor from you” he said and then started to yap his life away on wanting to escape, but stop when he realize you weren’t listening.

“Oh come on, you know friends help each other! I always been there for you when remember when… when..” He tried looking for an example but immediately brush it off “that doesn’t matter” He said coming closer to you “But what matters is that friends help each other and.. and we are friend-“

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you yelled. You grew big and scary, you grew even bigger tha touch the ceiling and had to stretch out, everything around started floating, the cristal box and holder of 035 mask.

035 felt back and hit the floor as soon as you scream at him to leave you alone. One of the cameras that was on too of you ended up hitting him, he then ran out and and shouted for help. Foundation personal were confused as to what happen.

~~~

After that incident you were pretty much mad at him, as to for many time that he wouldn’t leave you alone when you were down.

With or without a host you will show up, in a corner making sure he can see you.

He would try to use telepathy for her, but be immediately shut down by thousands of whispers that he couldn’t keep up on what they were saying, changing his expression to a frown.

Sometimes you would shake his container, one time you shake it so hard it almost felt down.

You would come really close to him and look at him with unsettling eyes and show a reflection knowing that you were right behind him watching him.

Sometimes you would follow him making him paranoid, at the same tike you would move things around to purposely make him trip or fall.

One time you threw a guards head at full force at him, it missed but he got blood splashed.

Sometimes you would chase him, not in a comical way. He got even hurt one time and almost got in danger to which you save him too.

Of course he will force himself to apologize to you and say he wont do it again. He will eventually but less persistently. He couldn’t take the abuse any longer.

This sourt of give you a sense of security next time he will think twice before he even tries to mess with you.

—-

That is all y’all i hope you all enjoyed it!

[absurdumsid]

Sid's AUs/OCs/Series Masterlist !!

intro post was starting to look long (<- guy who noticed too late) so i decided to make this !

ill be updating this every now and then because i um i love lists teehee

Bar Sanses/BS AU - It's based off of an ancient fanfic I wrote where a deserted Dusttale Grillby's becomes Nightmare's hideout. Dust is the bartender, Horror got kidnapped, Saejun is an accomplice, and the only really "bad" sanses are Nightmare and Killer lmao

@dustbar is the askblog for this !! unfortunately it's a bit inactive right now because i'm.... playing minecraft...

lore: main "lore" post second lore-ish post old outfits lore-ish posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 vaguely bs: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 fic snippets: 1 2 3

Jacketswap Saga - My most favourite thing ever, I switch my ships' jackets, that's it. You can interpret this as part of BS AU if you'd like ! (So far I've done MTTPoly, HorrorDust, and ColourKiller !)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

III Classic - Fell finds out he has three boyfriends (idk where I was going with this one ngl) never mind fell gets ALL the boyfriends (not updatin the name though because um. im lazy ?)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Sanses Stage AU/ALNST AU - basically alien stage but i force sanses into it <3

1 2 3 4

KeeperTale - An AU where the Justice and Perseverance humans were childhood friends with the First Human. Upon learning about their death, the two set out on an adventure to Mt. Ebott. Unfortunately, while one of them sought reason, the other wanted vengeance... and thus the monsters are forced into another war.

main lore post 1 2 3

UnderPills - An AU where after Asriel and Chara's deaths, the Underground grieved and monsters started turning into dust unprovoked. The Royal Scientist created a CURE that would preserve monsters' life, but… they grew too dependent on the drug.

lore: part 1 doodles: 1 2 3 4 5 6 text: 1 2 3

UnderAngel - An AU where Asgore and the monsters did not fight the humans and surrendered themselves to be sealed in Mt. Ebott. Patiently waiting for the angel from the prophecy, they live peacefully underground. (There isn't exactly a full lore post, as this is my biggest work in progress, so feel free to speculate about it !)

main "lore" post 1 2

Copyverse - A story that happens in-between and after the events of KeeperTale, UnderPills, and UnderAngel ! I'd like to make a comic for it after I properly write the lore and canon events for the AUs involved in it. (So far, KeeperTale has been finished !)

characters: sanses skeleton families lore-ish: 1 2 3 4 5 6 in universe-ish: 1 2 3

Outcode Counselling - Basically a tiny corner of the void that belongs to Angel! Gaster, where he counsels Outcodes. Currently, his patients are Pills! Gaster, HorrorPills! Sans, Keeper! Grillby, and Recover! Sans (@grinn1ng-ma5k's sans)

1 2 3 4 5

Steamverse [Express] - a train that runs through the entire multiverse, the conductors are Grillby and Gaster ! They are friends with Replica, an Outcode !

1 2

last update: 4/20/2024

[racefortheironthrone]

Not really directly related to the X-Men, but did you ever read the original series for the Power Pack? What did you think?

I'm a big Power Pack fan, having started with their intersections with the Claremont run - as I've talked about in the past, Claremont, Simonson, et al. were masters of the crossover, so it was natural that they would want to give a push to Weezy's characters in the X-books - that are rightfully considered classics because of the way they deftly managed pretty dark themes through the perspective of children.

As for their own adventures, the Power Pack are an unappreciated gem in Marvel's storied eighties, because of the way they break from the Marvel formula while operating seamlessly within the larger universe.

See, from the beginning of the Silver Age, Marvel differentiated itself from the Distinguished Competition by focusing like a laser on the teenage market rather than children. That's why Johnny Storm was a hotheaded teenage hearthrob, that's why Peter Parker started out as a normal, socially-awkward teen (just like you!), that's why the 05 X-Men were the "strangest teens of all!"

What Louise Simonson and June Brigman did with the Power Pack was to reinvent the child-centric focus of Golden Age D.C (think Robin and Superboy) and Charlton Comics (think the original Captain Marvel). Unlike those earlier child sidekicks and superkids, Alex, Julie, Jack, and Katie Power were not one-dimensional plucky moppets or precocious tiny adults.

Showing an impressive insight into child psychology, Weezy made them emotionally complex but also unmistakably still-in-development children, who were innocent and curious and boisterous but who also had tempers and got into fights with their siblings, or got scared and cried sometimes, who struggled with the desire for maturity and autonomy and the need for comfort and support from their parents. At the same time, June Brigman managed to do something that most professional comics artists notoriously struggle with: draw kids who looked like real kids, who were allowed to look goofy or awkward or gangly or rolypoly, rather than the idealized forms set down by the Nine Old Men.

And somehow, this alchemy made this book unusually emotionally resonant - although I may be something of an easy mark, because the Power Pack kids happened to be the children of Columbia University professors growing up in NYC's Upper West Side in the early 80s, just like me irl. While wrapped in a candy coating of kid superheroes with cool physics-based powers (Alex can control gravity by touching people or objects, Julie can turn into both waves and particles of light and fly at lightspeed, Jack can alter his body's density to become a miniature juggernaut or a living cloud, and five-year old Katie can turn matter into energy, absorb it, and fire it at the bad guys - the living embodiment of E=MC^2) fighting the evil alien Snarks with the help of a sentient spaceship, the Powers kids had to wrestle with having to hide their superheroics from their parents and the anxiety and guilt that resulted from that, and in their adventures they dealt with heavy topics like child abuse, gun violence, school bullying, mental illness and kidnapping and homelessness, and on and on.

Indeed, in the pages of X-Men, the Power Pack would go into the sewers under Manhattan to fight Sabertooth and the Marauders during the genocidal Morlock Massace, witness Wolverine wrestling with his humanity and his berserker rage in the Canadian wilderness, and fight to save Midtown New York from demonic incursions during Inferno. That's heavy stuff for a bunch of kids ranging from 5 to 12 years old, but somehow the Power Pack managed to make it through the most harrowing of adventures without losing their heroic spirit.

[seat-safety-switch]

Every kid who’s ever read comics or watched a TV show wants the Batmobile. No matter your favourite iteration, it’s a cool idea to fling around town in a customized monster-engined vehicle, safe in your belief that you have the only one. When we grow up, though, we buy the same car as everyone else. How many white Hyundai Elantras are they gonna make this year? Probably like eleven trillion. How many Batmobiles are there? One.

Now, this isn’t a full-throated endorsement to slap wings, black paint, and a jet engine onto your boring daily driver. That’s more of a thing for the Bonneville Speed Week, or perhaps for that gang of street-racing goths which are menacing the ungood folks down at Traffic Court. All you need to do is stir up the car a little bit. Pinstripe it. Fancy wheels. Swap the engine out for a two-stroke, two-cylinder piece of lawn equipment. You know, tiny stuff.

You might have listened to a boring person tell you that modifications do not increase the value of the car. This is true, because personalizing a car means that it is less likely to appeal to any other human being that is not currently burdened with the exact same Rube Goldberg machine of bullshit rattling around inside your head. You might lose a few bucks, rather than make back the money you spent on a turbocharger kit or linked nitrous bottles tucked into an old baby seat to throw the cops off. That’s okay. Would you avoid painting your house a fun colour in order to improve the resale value for the next person? If you would, maybe you should re-evaluate your priorities.

Thing is, unless we get reincarnated as an elephant or something, we only get one turn around life. You might as well trick out your car. Throw a little personality out there that isn’t unmedicated-mental-illness-level political bumper stickers. And hey, if you make it to elephant after all, you’re still gonna look back on your memories of the nice car and smile. Despite their lobbying, pachyderms still are not allowed to drive cars. They gotta walk everywhere, like suckers.

[sadlynotsappho]

mistborn (eras 1 and 2) spoilers under the cut, also a tiny bit of stormlight archive, and a mention of yumi and the nightmare painter

how did Harmony make Spook into a mistborn? did he create some lerasium and somehow force Spook to burn it? can Harmony create lerasium and atium, and if so, why does he not? how did Harmony make the metals that Wayne burned at the end of era 2 to become a mistborn?

if there was such a thing as an atium misting, and it wasn't a hemalurgic spike, how does that work? atium was retconned to be an alloy of atium and electrum (i believe), so does that mean that that one obligator could also burn electrum? could a coinshot burn an atium/steel (it might be iron but I'm pretty sure it's steel) alloy? or are there mistings for each individual god metal alloy? i haven't done the math, but that's A Lot of alloys, and that's not even considering what mixing two god metals together would do. and that's not even getting into harmonium.

why could ruin and preservation mentally speak to people and read people's minds, respectively? why could they only do that if they had a hemalurgic spike? kelsier found out that that had something to do with mental illness, is that how the spren bonds work? (speaking of those, and i am not qualified in the slightest to talk about this, how does DID work in the cosmere, where everyone (everything???) has a distinct soul?) why can't shards on roshar, like odium, do this? or can they? how does hemalurgy manage to literally transform people from, well, people, into kandra or inquisitors or koloss?

if the mistwraiths can be turned into kandra with hemalurgic spikes, can humans be turned into kandra also? we know they can be, but how? rashek gained that knowledge during his short time at the well of ascension, which has its own set of questions

why does the power there replenish every 1024 years? why does preservation tell kelsier that 16 is such an important number, when roshar only has 10 surges, and some other planets have other numbers of magic things? why does shadesmar around roshar look different than shadesmar around scadrial? (at least i think it does, roshar is described as having seas of spheres, while scadrial is described as just being squishy, if i remember correctly)

i will admit to not having read everything in the cosmere. i vaguely remember Yumi and the Nightmare Painter explaining a lot about shadesmar, but i skimmed over that at the time. i haven't read warbreaker, the sunlit man, or the white sand comics. they could have some answers to some of my questions. there may be more that I'm not thinking of right now.

[halfmoonism]

your feathers are priceless, beloved little bird

p5, ann & joker & ryuji || spoilers for the first palace ruler

whenever ren thinks of his first month at shujin, it’s always the same conversation in his head, the same three lonely kids against the world.

for plantober day 14: heather (bad fortune, illness, curse, death)

cw for allusions to child abuse (1st palace ruler)

“Do you think we’re… y’know, cursed or something?” Ryuji asks once, back when they still had rooftop access and expulsion was their biggest threat, the world at their tiny fingertips. He’d been glancing through a magazine with the sort of aimlessness Ren mistook for boredom before realizing the tension in his grip, and looks up.

“What?” Ann pushes herself up and off the wall, eyes firmly fixated on her phone. She, too, is far from holding herself casually. Not that Ann’s the greatest at it regardless. “No way. It’s not like we even did anything.”

Ren, ever the observer even at the best of times, sits back and says nothing, but he drops his hand to the desk and drums along a nonsense rhythm in wait.

“That’s what I mean!” Ryuji swings an arm around with all of his usual grace. Which is to say none, he almost whacks Ren in the face, but it’s not a problem when it gets Ann to snicker. He’s good at that, getting people to laugh with him. Ren’s almost jealous. “None of us did anything to deserve this shit!”

Her laugh, or what little of it lingered, vanishes. “Oh. Oh. You meant… so we’re talking about this now?”

Which is when it occurs to Ren that they’ve never actually talked about anything, not properly. Ann broke down in the cafe and Ryuji’s told him snippets during warmups, but they’re both impressive at grinning away most things that make them uncomfortable as soon as they loosen up. Which doesn’t feel quite right. He’s a persona user with them, right? He should be able to see past the masks better than the rest of Shujin, at least. These are his first friends. They deserve more.

He’s looking at Ann now, though, and sees nothing but a stone wall.

“I, uh,” and Ryuji’s seeing the same thing too, apparently, “well, we don’t gotta, I just. It’s fucked up, right? I didn’t think about it ‘till Renren brought it up—” Ren grimaces “—but look at us! That piece of shit’s been hurting his whole team and no one’s gonna side with us—”

“Obviously!” Ann shouts, face scrunched up. He’s never doubted her strength, not once, and the force of her words feels like a swing from a longsword. “Who’d side with us? They don’t care! No one even cared about Shiho until she—she—ugh, shut up, Ryuji!”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

Ren clears his throat. They don’t quite stop, but their momentum swings towards him, and that’s good enough. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says slowly, staring down at them both, “and we’re getting off track, anyway. Why’d you ask, Ryuji?”

Ryuji’s questioning look is careful. Somehow, Ren has to fight back a strong bitterness in his chest. “What?”

“If we were cursed.”

He doesn’t answer.

Ann’s not saying anything either, resting both palms on Ryuji’s desk like she’s waiting for a mine in a minefield. She watches Ren the same way when she thinks he isn’t looking, he knows, and he’s honestly just grateful she’s willing to be around them at all right now. “It’d make sense if I was,” she says shortly. Then, quieter, “You, too.”

Ryuji snaps his head up. “Huh?”

“Oh, come on.” Ann rolls her eyes, but she also can’t meet Ryuji’s. “Like you deserved what that monster did to you.”

Ryuji leans back at that, shoulders pulled outward like he’s ready to argue, but then he turns to Ann, really turns to her, and something in her gaze makes him deflate. Not comically or casually, but just defeated. It doesn’t fit him. “Shit. Yeah.”

For all of his bravado and heroics in the Metaverse, for all of their flashy truer selves, this isn’t something Ren can fix. Can even begin to fix. So he sits still, and they all let it drop.

[kagoutiss]

i LOOOVE sheik’s new hair‼️and the maybe comic sketches were soo cool. can u tell what its abt a little maybe………

oh thank you!!!! i love sheik’s braid sm i’m surprised i didn’t start drawing him with it earlier,,, and yeah i can try to explain a little bit about the comic sketches! i still cant guarantee if i’d end up finishing it, let alone when, but for the recent ones with sheik and ganondorf fighting, those are snippets from when they meet at the beginning of my AU (acknowledging they’ve technically met already bc sheik/zelda is the same person just in and out of disguise, etc)

i won’t give away the whole thing just in case i do draw it, but it mostly takes place in mid-timeskip castle town, which is partially dilapidated, and they run into each other for reasons. they don’t really fight for real, more like sheik at some point just tries to take a very ill-advised stab at him while his back is turned, and ganondorf thinks that this tiny prickly sheikah is very funny for 1) actually attempting to harm him in such a way, and 2) obviously not being as well-trained or indoctrinated as the sheikah agents he remembers fighting during the war. and he takes an interest in sheik during this whole interaction, in part because he’s fascinated by the idea of potentially ‘repurposing’ a sheikah who’s become (as far he knows) estranged from the remnants of their own people in the post-war, post-hylian-imperialist age, left with only a tiny fraction of the unique knowledge & survival skills she would otherwise have. and so it ends up being the precursor to sheik eventually getting stuck on both sides of a conflict that she is the central aspect of, all because she accidentally ran into the worst possible person at the worst possible time while doing something else incredibly reckless, and that’s what i’ll say about it for now :-)

[dross-the-fish]

Soooo, since Halloween is around the corner, could you possibly write (or draw if you feel more like it) Adam and anon participating in some Halloween activities of your own choice? Thank you!! ☺️

(And on top of that I want to thank you for sharing your art and writing and thoughts on these characters and stories, I really do enjoy whenever I see your stuff on my dash. Sorry if that overly sweet, but I do mean it 😅)

Thank you so much anon! I decided pumpkin carving was the activity for this drabble. Modern setting drabble because I don’t know what Halloween was like in 1918 London.

Adam turned the pumpkin over in the palm of his hand, the gourd looking comically small in his grip. He inspected it for flaws before presenting it to Anon.

“What about this one?” he asked.

Anon examined the pumpkin and gave a satisfied nod, “Perfect! This is an excellent jack-o-lantern pumpkin!”

Adam grinned, “How will we carve it?” he asked as he unconsciously tugged the hood of his sweater a little further down over his face. Though the times had changed and people in the 21st century were more tolerant of those that were different, Adam Frankenstein still felt anxious about being exposed. Halloween was one of those rare times when he could go out without being stared at and he’d come to appreciate the holiday. Among the other ghouls and monsters he didn’t looks out of place.

Tucking the pumpkin under one arm he held out his free hand for Anon to take. Anon did, grinning up at him and chatting eagerly about their ideas for carving the jack-o-lantern. On the way home they picked up some sweets and Anon suggested they attend a costume party later in the week.

“Are you sure I should do that? I’m not easy to buy costumes for. What would I even be?” Adam asked as he crawled out of the car. The vehicle was a tiny thing and Adam hated to ride in it as he was forced to sit with his knees halfway up to his chest and his head bent so it didn’t hit against the roof.

“Whatever you wanted!” anon replied, “I’m going to be a werewolf, maybe you could be a vampire!”

Adam grimaced, “I’d sooner not, vampires are real and their condition is a tragic one, as is the case with werewolves. I have known both in my life.”

Anon stared at him, “One day you have got to tell me your story. You know most of us aren’t aware that monsters are real.”

“They aren’t monsters, they’re people, some of whom choose to do monstrous things. The werewolf and vampire I knew were both kind people doing their best to cope with their illnesses.”

“Point taken. Though that cuts our costume options significantly. What about zombies?”

“Also real. Also tragic.”

“Witches?”

“Hrmm, I’ve never met anyone who called themselves a witch but it wouldn’t surprise me if they too were real and tragic,” Adam mused, his tone full of gravity and seriousness but a twinkle in his eye gave away his good humor.

“Alright, we can figure out the costumes later,” Anon chuckled leading him into the kitchen, “let’s start carving our pumpkin and I want to taste some of this candy!”

“Isn’t that for the trick-or-treaters?”

“Shush, it’s called the grown-up tax, we get a cut of the Halloween candy!” Anon insisted selecting a sour gumball for themselves.

Adam laughed and shook his head, he found modern candy to be too sweet and it always tasted a little odd so he declined when Anon offered him a piece.

“You can keep my cut,” he gave the pumpkin a small tap, “Sharp fangs or square teeth?”

“Fangs of course!”

“What about the eyes?”

“Can we try for slitted pupils? Like a cat?” Anon asked, by now they were familiar with Adam’s skills as a wood carver and hoped his talent extended to pumpkins.

“I don’t see why not. Give me that knife so I can hollow this out!”

Together they made short work of the pumpkin. Anon left most of the carving to Adam and was satisfied when he produced a sufficiently scary jack-o-lantern for them. Anon pulled out their phone to take a picture and Adam sidestepped out of the frame.

They frowned at him, “You carved it, you should be in the shot!” they protested.

“Are you going to post it online?” he asked anxiously.

“Not if you don’t want me too, we can keep it private,” they replied.

Adam nodded, “Please do,” he said allowing Anon to lead him back into the shot and positioning him so that he was holding the pumpkin.

Adam smiled awkwardly. He had never grown comfortable with being in photographs, he’d allowed it once, at Quincey Harker’s insistence that all of the companions should have a commemorative photo of the whole group together…so that those who survived could keep a memento should any of their friends be lost.

Photographs were much more difficult to produce back then.

The smartphone flashed a few times until Anon was satisfied with the result. They noticed that Adam’s smile had faded.

“What’s the matter?”

He shook his head, “Forgive me, I was remembering something from a long time ago,” he touched Anon’s phone with a wistful finger, “The world has changed so much in such a short time. I was remembering the last time I sat for a picture for a friend. How much of a project it was.”

“I forget that you’re old,” Anon put their phone away and reached out to give him a hug.

He stiffened then relaxed into their embrace with a small sigh, “That’s the hardest part. I am not old…I watched them grow old, those that still could, while I remained unchanged. The world is kinder now, it is also smaller, sometimes I feel lost in it,” he smiled down at the pumpkin, “But I think also that I have found my place in it and life, even when it brings me anguish, is still very precious to me. Thank you for sharing your traditions and your celebrations. I am fortunate to have found a friend in you.”

[philtstone]

Claire/Jamie, 45

#45 -- you're my Achilles' heel

It is unclear how the whole debate started, all the more so for the relative witlessness of its debators. Claire allows, between her protests, that it's giving them something marginally better to do than stand around uselessly in this stagnating camp and rot in the cold.

"No, no no no. It is a metaphor, my dear Master MacKenzie, and that is that."

"Och, Claire ..."

"Och, Claire --"

"An Achilles' heel," says Claire with finality (she is really quite cold, and so less indulgent than her usual self), "is not, nor has it ever been, a literal medical condition. Nobody suffers from one single overly-vulnerable appendage." She grimaces, bent over and peering between her tools, at the state of Kincaid's teeth.

"My own appendage is fair indestructible," declares Angus; Claire does not see the lewd gesture, but divines it all the same, "if ye ken my meaning --"

"Yes thank you Angus," she says, while Rupert shoves him, barely holding back his mannish snicker.

"Eedjits," grumbles Murtagh.

"Have you been cleaning your teeth at all, Ross?"

The man in question shrugs. "Here an' there, Mis'ress," he manages, as much as a person can with hands in their mouth. Claire sighs.

"Alright. Well, try one more pass with the willow twig every night, and make sure to dip it in alcohol first."

"Aye, bu' tha's stuff's better put tae drinkin', isnae't?"

Rupert is next, and Angus hanging about to pass the time -- or avoid his own check up, which Claire has not forgotten is due -- and their asinine chatter continues. While Claire retracts her hands from within the warm damp of Kincaid's mouth, Angus says,

"Pretty stupid way tae go though, dinna ye think."

"What? Bad teeth?"

"Ach, no. I meant -- ye ken -- the one arrow, an' jest like that, yer gone."

"Death by heel, ye mean? Aye, that's a mighty inconvenience."

"Oh, I was still talkin' 'bout my cock."

Claire disinfects her tools and ignores the biting wind, and the amused twitch of her own mouth. Amidst Kincaid's deeply unimpressed groans, she straightens the scarf around her neck, and wipes her nose on the elbow of her sleeve; her gloves must be carrying all manner of illness, by now. Beyond their little tent, more or less useless against the wind, the rest of the camp displays a grey lifelessness that bears on Claire's shoulders like an anvil. A military camp is not meant to be so dull, or directionless -- nor its leaders so incompetent, nor its purpose so misguided. She sniffs again, and realizes she is frowning.

She looks up, distracted by a peal of laughter. It comes from beyond Claire herself, from the small clearing between their tent and the old stone wall leading up to the Prince's quarters.

In the clearing, her husband stands, having spent the better part of the last half hour teaching Fergus how to throw a decent punch. Fergus is not terrible, more or less, but a bit too determined a student, and somewhat comically dwarfed by his instructor-cum-opponent. Claire does not need to have been observing the details of the exchange to know how Jamie must have directed the boy's lanky limbs, firm and unindulgent but gentle all the same. By this point, though, the exercise has devolved into a bizarre game of tag. They are both laughing, slipping in the grass, energized like Claire has not seen them in a while. Jamie's hair brightens the dull grey of the winter afternoon.

"Weel, jest as good it's a metaphor." This is Rupert speaking, behind her.

"What's it a metaphor for, though?"

"Is no' that hard to ken, Angus, ye cannae be that much a dunce."

Claire's fingers tighten over her tools.

"Hmph."

She turns around, not quite startled. Murtagh has slouched over, as she has come to expect him to do, and is inspecting her tiny scalpel like he might a dull dirk. She is half expecting that he offer to sharpen it. Instead, he only looks up at her, expression shrewd and knowing under his thick set brows.

"Ye alright, lass?" he asks, and right at the end of it looks beyond her, at Jamie and their boy.

Claire finds that she does not have an answer to give.

[drpeppertummy]

Do you think… you could do more writing (or even art when you have the motivation) of some dave stuffing? He is legit so cute and I love how you wrote him before!

thank u !!!!!!! i need to use him more bc hes like My Special Little Guy

[stuffing, liquid bloat, mild burping]

"Hey Laurie!" Carrie waved to her friend across the yard. "Dave's gonna chug a two liter, wanna watch?"

"I'm good," called Laurie.

"Carrie, don't let him do that," said Wendy.

"Since when am I his keeper?"

"Yeah, since when is she my keeper?" Dave turned to look at Wendy.

"I can't stop him! Look at this, there's no restraining this guy," said Carrie, lifting one of Dave's scrawny arms. Wendy sighed.

"Can you at least get off the deck so you don't make a mess when you throw up?"

"Aw, fine," said Dave. He began making his way off the deck, Carrie and grape soda in tow. The soda had been part of his contribution to the get-together--he was an awful cook, so he'd brought a variety of beverages, as well as some chips and a pack of paper plates and bowls--but the big bottle of grape had been unanimously rejected upon arrival. The only logical thing to do with it, as far as he was concerned, was to dispose of it himself.

"You really going to drink that whole thing?" Gray asked as they passed by him. He was busy at the grill, wearing Wendy's tiny apron.

"Someone's gotta do it," said Dave, putting on a dramatic expression of bravery. Gray nodded understandingly.

"You should eat first," he advised. "You're gonna miss out."

"Damn, this guy's doing all the thinking," said Carrie, giving Gray a firm slap on the back. "Yeah, save the grape for after lunch."

"ZITI!" Sunny hollered, emerging from the back door with a steaming dish of pasta. A rush of startled birds erupted from the surrounding trees.

"I think the ziti's ready," Carrie chuckled.

Sunny set out the bubbling dish of baked ziti as Gray finished up the sliders he was grilling. Laurie went inside to retrieve the salads she'd prepared from the fridge. Two slow cookers simmered away in the kitchen, one of Carrie's signature bean chili and one of Wendy's famous corn chowder. Dave set aside his soda and brought out the plates and chips.

The lunch was a success, with only a few minor injuries. Sunny had fallen backwards out of his chair trying to catch a runaway napkin, and Laurie had banged her knee on the table trying to catch him. Neither of them had succeeded and both sustained a few bruises. Carrie, unable to control herself, had laughed so hard at the spectacle that she nearly choked on a mouthful of chili, and she spent the rest of the meal trying to clear traces of cayenne from her nasal cavity. Casualties aside, everything had come out fantastic. Even Wendy had gone back for seconds, and Dave and Sunny had gone for thirds. Sunny wound up regretting this choice, but Dave, who was notorious for being a bottomless pit, seemed unaffected by his bloated stomach.

The group sat and chatted, enjoying the pleasant weather and digesting the big lunch. Sunny was beginning to look ill, but the other five were comfortably stuffed. After relaxing for a while, they finally began the cleanup. As they cleaned, Carrie gently elbowed Dave in the side.

"Hey, you still getting rid of that soda?"

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot," said Dave.

"Oh, god, Carrie, why'd you remind him?" groaned Laurie. "He's gonna explode!"

"I just want to see if he can actually do it," she said with a shrug.

"You're seriously still going to do it?" Gray looked over his shoulder at them as he wiped off the table. "I was hoping you'd lose interest."

"At this point I'm committed," said Dave. "Besides, I've got room."

"Are you sure? You don't look like you have room," said Wendy, eyeing his belly skeptically. After three servings of everything, his stomach bulged comically out from his skinny frame. Somebody who didn't know Dave might've thought he was on the verge of being sick. His friends knew better. Despite his scrawny physique, Dave had a monster appetite, and it took more than a few dishes of pasta and chili to push him over the edge. Still, looking at him now, it seemed impossible that his stomach could stretch much further.

"Sure I do," he said. Wendy didn't look convinced. "Anyway, nobody else wants to drink it, what else are we gonna do with it?"

"Most people would drink it over the course of a few days," said Wendy. "That's what the cap is for."

"It's gonna go all flat! Even I'm above drinking flat soda."

"That's really saying something, since you're about as discerning as the average garbage can," teased Laurie. Dave made a silly face at her and picked up the soda.

"Alright, Dave!" Carrie gave him an encouraging pat on the back. He sat down and twisted off the cap, and before anybody could say anything, he put the opening to his lips and tipped it back. The rest of the group watched, astonished, as the unnatural purple liquid began to disappear down his throat. It went quickly, and his belly bumped out further and further with each heavy gulp. He grabbed his stomach with his free hand as he drank. Finally, just as his stomach reached its absolute limit, the bottle was empty. He pulled it away from his face, gasping.

"Holy shit," he panted. An enormous burp escaped him as he spoke. "That sucked."

"God damn, Dave! I really didn't think you could do it," exclaimed Carrie, impressed. Dave set the bottle down, still trying to catch his breath, and rested both hands on his belly. He looked and felt like he'd swallowed a basketball.

"I feel like the girl from Slither," he groaned. The soda had pushed him far past his limit, and his stomach felt like it was about to burst. He forced up another burp, desperately trying to release some of the pressure. Laurie carefully placed a hand on the top of his distended belly. It had already been tight before, and now it was rock solid.

"So you're not gonna get grape soda next time, right?" she asked, giving his belly a gentle rub.

"I don't know," said Dave. He let out another burp. "If I keep practicing, maybe this'll be my signature party trick!"

"David!" She threatened to slap his belly.

"I'm kidding! I'm never doing this shit again," he groaned, rubbing his aching stomach.