#i might try to keep a day for sharing more non-comics stuff once in a while (also i still need to answer asks n stuff sometime)

[sleepsucks]

[bluemoonperegrine]

Wolf Be Upon Yeet: Part I

@vicarious-rebel and I have been chatting about her headcanon of the Moon Knight and Werewolf By Night characters hanging out in Bloodstone Manor Addams-Family-style. My favorite part of her headcanon is the monster OC she dreamed up: a sentient version of the Bloodstone. She introduced monster!Bloodstone in the short fic "Of blood and stone". 

I enjoyed. Had questions. Asked them. Vi replied. We started riffing on stuff, and it's hilarious.

We decided that some of you goofballs might enjoy our silliness and are sharing edited versions of it. Well, we might be. Here's the start of it. I'll see how this post goes over to decide if I want to edit more of our back-and-forth into something intelligible for everyone.

So, the least you need to know:

Elsa, Jack, and Billy Swan live at the manor full-time.

Elsa and Jack are good friends.

Jack is over 200 years old. He doesn't have control of his wolf form. Werewolf him looks just like he did in the special.

Ted, Marc/Steven/Jake, and Layla visit the manor a lot.

Some or all of them go on missions together.

Vi's text is black. bluemoonperegrine's text is blue. (I mean, of course.)

aight so you asked how the Bloodstone would react to Khonshu and I think that depends on whether it considers divine and monstrous to be the same or similar enough conceptually

it considers Jack a monster even though he really only transforms during a full moon so "human for the most part" doesn't cut it

still I don't think we have any info on how it reacts to divine beings (and I'm not really a comic nerd but there's nothing there either as far as I know)

so if the only distinction it makes is human vs non-human, then it would probably react to Khonshu the same way it did to Jack

but it wouldn't be successful in actually landing a hit

yeah, I'm with you on how the Bloodstone would perceive Khonshu: monster. It's pretty binary: there are monster and not monsters. Unnatural and natural.

Ironically, monster!Bloodstone is inherently unnatural. Hence the identity issues you mentioned the other day.

It would be funny if it looked in a mirror and realized "Oh shit. I'm a monster!"

How intelligent is Stony? (monster!Bloodstone needs a shorter name, lol) Like a mammalian alpha predator? Smarter than that?

Stony <3 I love it, it's like a pet name

I'm not entirely sure, to be fair with you. It's definitely smart enough to recognize faces and tell edible from inedible things (maybe even tell reflection from actual thing apart) but that's all "in development", I guess.

He's literally a pet rock. With... viscera and stuff

speaking of Jack, I was actually kinda worried his reaction was ooc

hmm. lemme reread it keeping in mind that he's an old man

bc Jack is a monster and he's certainly seen some freakier ones but on the other hand how often do you see the ultimate weapon against monsters become a monster and then go for your neck?

pff Jack is an old man, please have mercy on his heart

he looks fantastic for 257

i'd say it's a 50/50 chance that he'd run for his life or freeze. Of the four responses to a threat (fight, flight, freeze, fawn), fleeing or freezing make the most sense.

I think he'd have run if Marc weren't there.

yeah, I think so, too. It seems to be his go-to reaction to threats

but maybe his instinct went "wait, someone close to you is here, you can't leave them"

or maybe he freezes depending on the situation (if you can count his reaction to Elsa in the maze as freezing)

I think his brain went offline for about a minute when Stony showed himself

Jack.exe has stopped working, please restart

Once some of the adrenaline had waned Jack would probably think "I can't abandon my friends even though this thing could end me in a fraction of a second"

LOL jack.exe

* opens task manager, kills thread *

from what I understand the Bloodstone is only supposed to weaken monsters so that kinda holds true for Stony boy here

it was basically trying to paralyze Jack

I know nothing about the Bloodstone other than what was in the special

It's interesting to think about a werewolf's reaction to stuff that can seriously hurt them. It's a very short list.

same here but from some of the easter egg/analysis channels I've watched they sometimes talk abt the Bloodstone in the comics and so far none of them mention anything abt it being able to properly kill a monster

so I think of Stony as being able to send just enough neuroparalytic toxins or electric shockwaves to incapacitate a monster but not necessarily kill them

not that Jack knows that in the moment

or any of them really

I like how your mind works. You're figuring out how Stony ticks. The characters may or may not catch up

I am indeed figuring some of this stuff out as we speak

I'm already imagining Elsa trying to figure out how to take care of Stony. What does he eat? Steel? Cinderblocks? tiny ghosts?

she throws all this random crap in his space and watches what he does

Jack watches from far away with binoculars

lol, Jack and Ted watch the show from afar.

"I don't know what she's thinking, Ted. I mean... look at that thing!"

the serious version of what Stony eats would probably be raw meat/blood/whatever else it needs to maintain the viscera

the funny version would be if Elsa eventually figured out it can run on a chicken diet bc of that

Have you watched Death Note?

long time ago, yeah

"L, did you know gods of death like apples?"

that and "I'll take a potato chip...AND EAT IT."

I like the serious and funny versions of figuring out Stony's dietary needs

Ted, nodding along to Jack's concerns

Stony would make for a very efficient clean-up crew after a hunt

he's the goat of monsters

it gets even funnier when you imagine it wasn't Elsa but one of the mk crew to figure it out

gotta be either Steven or Jake

Marc or Jake casually throw a chicken nugget at it for funsies and whoops, what do you know it likes it

they train it to do tricks

they would!

I just love the image of Marc being completely unphased by the thing after the initial encounter so when the system n Jack are visiting Elsa for whatever reason and Stony pops up we have

Jack: internally screaming in terror

Marc: oh hey bud

Marc keeps chicken nuggies in a ziplock bag in a coat pocket for Stony

the system overall gets along with Stony, Steven especially likes teaching it tricks and playing fetch with it

Jack: Marc, have you been eating a lot of chicken?

M: ...no?

J: You... always smell like chicken now. Cooked chicken, I mean. Fried, to be specific. Just a little.

M: * pulls a ziplock bag with nuggs out of his coat. It says "Stony <3" in Sharpie*

J: ...oh.

lmao Jack being secretly jealous

(Why don't *I* get chickie nuggies?)

"how come this thing gets chicken nuggets from him all the time? what does it have that I don't??"

He'd start hanging around in wolf form in hopes of treats 😂

crackpot theory: Marc has some kind of natural way of getting along with monsters

just Marc, or the system?

just Marc

however the rest of the system also has their way of getting around

Steven would use his big brain

Steven manages to get on most monsters' good side by being his genuine, curious and respectful self while Jake has more of a chill vibe that can disarm even monsters with time

and speaking of wolf Jack, yes he'd absolutely start sticking around the system more often for treats

especially when you consider Marc gives me dog person vibes he'd probably cave at some point

Elsa sighs, rolls her eyes, and points this out to the boys

Ted just wheeze-laughs

oh Ted has the time of his life teasing Jack for it

Elsa, too

I love this so much words can't do it justice

my general idea of the WBN crew is that they are a tight squad and teasing is just a given

"I'm not that dog-like!" *scratches behind ear*

it's good-natured teasing. if anyone crosses a line, the other party backs off and apologizes, if indirectly

Elsa: you're jealous that Stony gets all of Marc's attention, aren't you?

Jack, sweating: I don't know what you're talking about

aight we've touched on Jack being jealous for attention

aside from hanging around the system more in wolf form, he also tries to spend more time with them as a human

preferably outside of Bloodstone manor

first off, he's not jealous of that thing you guys, he's noooooootttt

and secondly, since Stony can be surprisingly quiet for a giant monster he can lurk the house and sneak up on anybody

that essentially means it constantly tries to sneak up on Jack and he can smell when it's near and that freaks him out

also I headcanon that Jack likes bubble tea and routinely tries to get the system to try it but they're obstinate

he lets up on Steven when he says he's vegan but the others aren't so lucky

plenty of puppy eyes

also it just occurred to me that it would be double funny if Layla also started showering Stony with affection and Marc was secretly a little jealous as well

he would never admit it ofc but he also wouldn't have a grudge against it bc hello???? it's Stony

the thing kinda has a soft spot for Marc bc of the treats (and that first encounter bc I think it would appreciate bravery, somehow)

Does Stony like Jack? Why is he sneaking up on him?

I can almost imagine Stony as a scary/annoying kid hanging around Jack looking for attention. Maybe

Bubble tea! 😆

So who exactly is the WBN crew? Elsa, Jack, Ted, Stony 😂, the system, and Layla? Anyone else?

I can only see Elsa and Jack being at the manor full time, or at least a lot. Being 200 yrs old, Jack must have a few places... unless he's largely itinerant. And Ted has to guard the nexus in the Everglades

the WBN crew are Elsa, Jack and Ted while Layla and the system are the MK crew

Stony would initially stalk him bc "monster bad" but he does eventually realise that's not the case for Jack but still does the stalking bc he is in fact A Little Shit

what are the other naughty things Stony does?

Stony usually bumps into things or pokes them bc he's curious about his surroundings

this leads to the endearing cat-like behaviour of "push things off the ledge and see what happens" and what happens is that sometimes things break

Lol Stony. He's like a cat and a dog

exactly

Does Stony have anything like catnip? Stonynip? lol

Stoned Stony

The bad jokes/puns write themselves 😆

maybe bloodroot (sanguinaria). It grows wild out here.

I'm not sure he'd have something like that tbh (plus the bloodroot sounds like it could actually hurt him but who knows, we're talking about an eldritch being spawned from a frekin jewel)

which would be funnier: Jack never getting over Stony and freaking out every time he saw it or getting to a point where he just sees it and goes "not you again"

I think the "why not both" option is for him to be in "freak out every time" mode for, like, weeks, then slowly transition to "oh god, you again"

from "oh god, you again"(terrified) to "oh god, you again"(exasperated)

Maybe the MK system and Elsa have an intervention with still-freaking-out-over-Stony Jack to encourage him to chill. If he doesn't he'll repeatedly have coronaries, heal up, then have more. Ugh. 😂

oh yeah, poor him

constantly on the verge of a heart attack

Swan's reaction to Stony would be fun to play with, too.

lmaooo yeah

I fully picture him agreeing with Jack at first that Stony is freaky but then he sees how it treats Elsa and he's like "actually you know what? this thing's chill, I don't even have to clean up after it"

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

Congrats to anyone who got this far!

There's a backstory to the title of this post. It'll be revealed in a later one.

Also, for anyone who wants to read more Stony hijinx, see my short fic "Something Awful This Way Comes."

[writeblrfantasy]

here it is!

my pride and joy, the piece that has completely hijacked my brain and my life for the past 24 hours. this is the prologue, some might say, to TDOSA, featuring the vibes of an endless, sunny summer, the sense of floating through time and space, and a lot of lesbian yearning and projection, i present: the summer of seret ashling.

cw implied sex, blood

word count around 6300

one time tags of interest @ashen-crest @ettawritesnstudies

tdosa taglist (lmk to be added/removed) magic-is-something-we-create @hysteriwah @imjustalonesomewriteblr @a-forgotten-dusk @bronwennjames @metanoiamorii

Lysandra Fleming’s summer begins like this: a lonely night in Briar Bar, sipping a warm mug of cherry syrup. Not because she is cold—the heat in Vashiri Valley does not begin with summer, nor does it end there. Cherry syrup is vile and bitter and sweet at the same time, made worse warm, but the smooth way it goes down reminds her of childhood, the strange days when she actually liked this stuff.

Not home. She has not had a home since she was a child, when the supposed charm of the palace still worked on her. What were once silky ribbons in her hair became the invisible chains and rules of her parents, tying her down.

Lysandra, you can’t do this, it will reflect badly on us, or Lysandra, you can’t speak to that person, can’t smile at them, can’t see them, don’t you know what they did ten years ago? Don’t you know who their parents are? Vashiri Valley is struggling for power enough without you mucking it up.

Lysandra stopped smiling altogether.

Now, she comes to Briar Bar to be left alone with her cherry syrup, to melt into the crowd, to be normal, for once. Instead, others smile at her the way her parents always encouraged she smile, fake, polite enough, with an ulterior gleam in their eye. So many eyes watch her in want, but she does not feel seen at all by any of them.

The room’s quiet conversation dims and dissolves into whispers, prompting Lysandra to glance over at the reason. The reason is facing away from Lysandra, wearing a tall black hat and a black suit that nearly blends into the darkness of the walls, if not for the white shirt the woman is wearing underneath.

Lysandra didn’t see her come in, and all eyes turn to the tall, dark stranger, wondering the same thing. Her companions across the room point her in Lysandra’s direction, who braces for another meaningless smile, another delighted to meet you, Highness.

The woman turns, and Lysandra sees brown skin, black hair falling in long, loose curls, a subtle, close mouthed smile that draws her attention instantly. Brown eyes meet Lysandra’s green.

“Seret Ashling, my princess.” Seret Ashling leans down, never breaking eye contact, and kisses the top of Lysandra’s hand, holding her fingers delicately, but not like she’s glass. She treats Lysandra like she knows, instantly, her boundaries, how far she can safely push, what Lysandra can take—which is a lot more than most people guess.

Already, Lysandra likes her.

Lysandra is not her princess. She knows the name of every person in this valley, and she knows she’s never even seen Seret before. Even the name is foreign to her. Seh-reht.

That makes it all the better.

She moves her stool a little farther from the empty one beside her, raising an eyebrow in an invitation Seret accepts, removing her hat and tucking it under her arm to smoothly mount the stool. Seret sits with a straight back but ankles curled around the legs of the stool, adding enough humanity to her presence to make Lysandra smile.

She does not prop her elbow on the table, she does not order anything, but she does stare at Lysandra like she’s the most interesting person in the room. Lysandra can tell, somehow, that this gaze is genuine, not hastily crafted and practiced to impress her.

She offers to buy Lysandra another mug of cherry syrup, and Lysandra lets her.

***

Everywhere Lysandra goes, Seret seems to find her. She’s the talk of the valley, enrapturing them with her tall, dark, handsome aura, her small smile, the way the sun shines off her hair.

Finally Seret takes the leap and asks her out to places in Vashiri City Lysandra has been a thousand times, but somehow Seret’s presence paints color to her world again instead of the dull greens and golds the valley has become.

Their connection is instant, from Briar Bar to the lane of potion shops to the muffled awe in Seret’s face when she sees the Academy. At some point, Seret takes Lysandra’s hand, and they stroll through the town like they are not a princess and the new obsession of Vashiri Valley.

Everyone has been asking Seret about herself, where she’s from, what family she has, but she slips out of answering like a snake from a trap. Her smile is quite persuasive. Lysandra doesn’t even try to pry the answer out of her, though she might be the one person to succeed. Seret still looks at her every time like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars.

Lysandra’s heart thrums with nerves every hour before their dates, afraid of messing things up and driving Seret away, but the moment Seret enters the room, her heart calms. Seret gives her a warm hug that envelopes her whole soul, tells her she missed her dearly, and Lysandra wonders why she was ever worried. Seret seems impossible to offend.

“I am going to buy you a gift,” Seret announces on one of their dates in town, in a tone which makes it clear this is non-negotiable. Lysandra only nods. Seret pauses between two shops, one being the most popular jewelry store in the city with a line out the door, the one across the street being an adorable but little known competitor.

Lysandra waits for Seret to get in line for the popular jewelry store, but instead the woman lingers in front of the door of the other shop before opening it. “Don’t peek,” she says with a little smile, shutting the door and triggering the little bell. Lysandra stands there gawking like a fool until Seret emerges ten minutes later holding a little square box.

When Lysandra opens it with trembling hands, she finds a little heart shaped necklace, gold with a silver center on a golden chain. The gold probably isn’t real, probably just paint, but the pink paper wrapping the necklace and the little thank you card inside the box make her smile when the shop across the street wouldn’t.

The plain red and blue shelves in the windows of the other shop, where her family’s jeweler gets his jewels, have nothing on the soft pinks, greens, and browns of the cheap shop owned by twins. They keep flowers in their windows, pink carnations, and prices written in loopy court script.

“Do you like it?” Seret asks nervously, and Lysandra realizes she hasn’t said a word.

“I love it. Thank you.” She offers it up to Seret to clasp around her neck. Seret’s warm fingertips brush the back of her neck, and shivers run down Lysandra’s spine. This is special, her heart keeps telling her, like she doesn’t already know. This is different.

“How did you know?” Lysandra asks.

“Know what?”

“That I’d like this better than the shop across the street.”

“You’re a princess, you’re used to expensive jewelry, and you’ve publicly and loudly denounced royal life. Also, I’d rather give my money to them, seems like they actually need it. Don’t you agree?”

Lysandra has to take a deep breath to keep from blurting out something stupid. “Yes. I agree.”

Their first kiss a day later is a ray of light and a shadow of darkness, colliding and exploding in a glorious show of white and black, settling as ashes and debris into serene, calm gray. They are not the sun and moon. Lysandra is too sharp to be the sun, Seret too dim to be the moon.

It is the death of something. The birth. Lysandra can’t define what.

***

When Lysandra asks, Seret says she came to Vashiri Valley to visit and experience its delights, after which she meets Lysandra’s eyes and kisses her hands.

Lysandra hangs around the city apartment Seret rents. It’s close to Wynn’s cabin where she sleeps. She hasn’t slept in the palace in months. The layers of security and scrutiny she has to pass to enter are not worth the temporary comfort of a soft bed and her favorite meals.

She’s sleeping beside Seret before long, unable to bear being apart from her for that long, wondering how she behaves during such a precious time. Seret’s arms are even warmer around her under cool sheets, and in the morning, Seret brings her coffee before disappearing behind a white door.

She reappears in a cloud of steam, smelling like sweet flowers and honeysuckle. Lysandra gets to kiss her good morning and wonder how she got so lucky.

They’re invited to plays, the nights at the bars for amateur bards, the travelling witches who perform at the amphitheater. Lysandra has been to every event in this valley at least once, usually at the request of her family, but Seret loves going. Like the city and the shops and the Academy, experiencing Seret’s joy secondhand is intoxicating.

Everywhere they go, every table they sit at, whether it’s the theater or the bar or a café for a simple breakfast, people are fawning over Seret. The entire valley is enamored with Lysandra’s new lover.

Seret seems to find it amusing, the way they pat her arm and show a comical amount of interest in everything she has to say, just waiting for an opportunity to ask questions that they must know will go unanswered.

Lysandra sits quietly, burning from the way Seret entertains them, smiles at them in her private way. She wants Seret all to herself. She’s used to sharing things with the public, she’s had to share herself her whole life, but Seret is different. Lysandra doesn’t care if it’s selfish, Seret is hers.

When everyone finally seems like they’ve gotten their fill of Vashiri’s new inhabitant, Lysandra takes her to the edge of the forest and the dead tall grass fields beside it. She gets to watch the exact moment Seret falls in love.

Seret has never grinned, never raised her voice louder than a murmur, but her hitch of breath and the way she reaches for Lysandra’s hand is all she needs. Pride blooms in Lysandra’s chest at the realization she’s learned Seret’s little tells like that.

“It’s just a field,��� she laughs. She’s laughing more, now, thanks to Seret. Stoic, cynical, unpleasant Princess Lysandra, laughing. This is why she hasn’t let Arlin near Seret yet, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No, it’s not,” Seret breathes, radiating darkness and mystery in a way that is curious, enticing, instead of harmful. Lysandra just wants to follow her into the shadows where no others can see them, hurt them, touch them. “Can’t you see?”

Lysandra strains her neck, but it’s not the fact that Seret is taller than her that’s the problem. “No.”

Seret pulls her along and begins running instead of answering. Lysandra yelps in surprise and stumbles along, staring enviously at Seret’s long legs—long legs, long arms, long face, long fingers, everything about Seret is long. She sweeps Lysandra up in her arms and spins her around, feet in the air, Seret’s strong arms keeping her up.

Seret is grinning for the first time, showing perfect white teeth, her joy the only reason Lysandra doesn’t scream in shock. She trusts Seret utterly, she realizes in a paralyzing moment of clarity, the sun warming her back, the wind blowing through her hair. Seret has never given her a reason not to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lysandra asks, though she can’t keep the joy out of her own voice. Seret is infectious. Anything she feels reflects on Lysandra.

“We had fields exactly like this in the city where I grew up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen these yet.” She finally sets Lysandra down and immediately kisses her, as has become a habit the last week. Lysandra gives in, gives over entirely.

She has twisted and forced a key into the lock of her heart, but now, she hands the broken key to Seret and wishes her lucky trying to fit it in the rusty, damaged old lock. Lysandra knows she’ll unlock it fast, her eyebrows pinched and frowning in concentration, long fingers working quickly.

She doesn’t tell her that, of course.

Even then, Lysandra knew.

***

They find a cabin at the edge of the fields and the forest which they quickly move into, abandoning Arlin and the boys and Lysandra's family and Vashiri Valley for themselves. Lysandra has no remorse.

Seret shows her how to live in darkness, in quiet, in peace. They prepare coffee in the mornings before the sun floods the fields with light, arms brushing and using only using their sleepy voices when they need to, not wanting to disturb the holy peace of the morning.

They bathe in the evenings indoors where the fading sun doesn’t reach, sitting close in a tub of river water that Lysandra heats.

They spend all day laying on their backs in the fields, one of them lying on the other while someone’s hair is stroked and someone speaks over the wind.

When the afternoon heat turns the sunlight from pleasantly warm to scorching, they move to the shade of the big oak tree near their cabin to eat.

The shadows are their friends in this haven, where no one and nothing else exists but them. Seret trusts them like they trust each other, content to close her eyes and lay her head back against the trunk when she’s done eating.

Lysandra loves the warmth of the sun, but she hates the harsh white spotlight of her family, the prickly rules tying her down, the sense that she can’t ever escape their restraining eyes. She can hide in the darkness from Seret. They’ll never catch her.

Lysandra has never been so invincible, light enough to be picked up on a cloud every time the wind blows. Seret is the only magical thing she’s met that doesn’t have a drop of magic within her.

Seret is ineffable. Unknowable. Larger than life. Lysandra can never hope to understand her fully, but she can try, she can watch and observe, attempt to learn the inner workings of Seret’s mind.

“Seret?” Lysandra asks one afternoon just like every other, where the peace and warmth of their retreat cannot be broken. “Where are you from?”

It is the first time she has asked. She holds her breath, waiting for Seret’s answer, which takes a long time to come. Seret chews on her lip, her expression as guarded as always, until she finally smiles. “Wherever you want me to be from. North, south, east, west, I’ve visited them all. Pick one and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysandra’s chest opens to swallow an ache of emptiness. “Maybe later.” It’s not what she wanted, and they both know it. Lysandra inches mere breaths away from Seret’s side, but it won’t go unnoticed. She thought Seret might actually tell her. She rubs the small gold heart between her fingers and sighs.

“Hey,” Seret says, turning Lysandra’s chin towards her. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, more than you know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Need, embarrassing and whiny, sneaks into Lysandra’s voice, but she ignores it. She’s entitled to this answer, at least.

“I don’t want to shatter your world.” Seret sighs and shifts to take Lysandra’s hands in both of hers. “I am from the south. I ran away from home at a young age to travel because my upbringing was hell, and I’ve never stopped since.”

Lysandra breathes out.

“None of that changes how I feel about you,” Seret continues, pleading, the most passionate Lysandra has ever heard her. “I have never met anyone like you, even with everywhere I’ve been. I do not want anyone but you.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Lysandra, and hearing it now gives her pause. The way Seret’s eyes burn on her skin with their dark intensity is exquisite. Lysandra will never get used to it. She does not want to.

“I would not want this with anyone else.” It does not mean the same thing, but Seret smiles, close mouthed, anyway. At times like this, Seret’s secretive nature makes Lysandra’s blood boil, unvoiced screams rise in her throat. She has given so much of herself already, why can Lysandra not know of her past, her family, her ugliest emotions?

She never wants Seret to treat her like glass. The first day they met, Seret got it right. Lysandra can’t bear the thought that Seret is any less perfect than she thinks, that would shatter her, not knowledge of the world beyond the valley.

Lysandra has gotten all she will today. She is content to sigh deeply and lay her head on Seret’s arm. Seret will stroke Lysandra’s hair, and the wind will ruffle her own, and Lysandra’s urge to push it back will fight the warmth settling into her bones. They are fine. They will be fine. Nothing more.

***

On lucky occasions, Seret shares stories of her travels from who knows when, who knows where. She has been everywhere, she said, and Lysandra believes her. She asks about the north, the far east, the west, and Seret’s homeland, the south.

The south could mean any number of things. Lysandra has never been out of Vashiri Valley, and her family have always been vague about what lies beyond their mountains, but Seret describes an actual ocean, the cold water wrapping around her ankles, the hot sand burning her feet.

She takes Lysandra to a desert in her mind, great, sprawling cities, icy lakes and snowy mountains to the north. To the east, she says, more ocean with great brown ships. Lysandra doesn’t care if she’s lying.

She lays in the grass on her side and lets the wind blow her skirts while she travels the world in her mind. Seret closes her eyes and traces mountains, rivers, canyons on her spine, unconsciously pointing in those directions. Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat.

Seret opens her eyes briefly to ask, “Am I boring you?”

Never. You couldn’t if you tried.

Lysandra shakes her head. Seret’s slow, easy smile returns, and the warm fingers on the skin revealed by her backless dress whisk her away to a thousand new worlds so big she can’t even imagine them.

***

“Does it ever bother you that I’m a princess?”

Seret smiles. “That isn’t something that would bother most people in my position.”

“I’d disagree. As the lover of a princess, you have no privacy, there’s expectations, rules you have to follow, harassment…I suppose a better word would be faze. You met and introduced yourself and spoke to me as if I were normal.”

“I called you my princess. the day we met.”

At Lysandra’s withering look, Seret chuckles. “Who said you aren’t normal? You didn’t have any control over what family you were born into. I would still feel the same if you hadn’t rejected your family and your role, if you were princess first and person second. It would be a bit harder to get to you, though, in that stronghold. To me, in that bar, you were just the prettiest girl in the nicest dress with the most captivating eyes. They told me you were a princess—so what? I love you anyway.”

Lysandra’s cheeks burn hot, and she chokes on saliva. The wind picks up, and she feels like she’s falling. How can Seret just say things like that and expect Lysandra not to explode and melt into the sun? “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Seret smiles again. “I’m not looking to get anywhere. I’m not like those people at the bar when we met. I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m not not trying to be like anyone. I’m not looking to impress you, honestly. I’m just being honest.”

Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat like a branch stuck in a river, unfazed by the powerful oncoming waves.

Seret is clearly not looking to hear it back, but Lysandra gathers all her courage and quietly says, “I love you, too. I--”

She shies away from Seret’s intense gaze, burning on the back of her neck. “I’m not good at, uh. Saying things like this. Like you. But I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for me, given me. This place is nothing short of perfect. Every minute we’ve spent together has been nothing short of perfect. I’m sorry I haven’t given you anything back.”

“My dear, you are quite mistaken. You’ve given me the ultimate gift: yourself. The opportunity to know your heart, your mind. You’ve let me in when I can tell you have trouble doing so.”

She kisses the back of Lysandra’s hand, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as she often does. It still makes Lysandra’s entire being heat like the sun itself came down to lay its rays gently onto her, powerful but careful with her.

“You are my entire world,” says Seret, the sun. “The most precious creature in all the places I’ve visited, all the creatures in this valley alone.”

Lysandra smiles. “You haven’t met Wynn Scylla’s dragonlings.”

Deflect. Defend. Dismiss. Seret sees through it.

Lysandra lays their lips together, hoping to convey without the painful process of words said aloud just how much Seret makes her hurt. Seret makes her burn and ache in the best of ways, like a satisfying stretch after waking up from a stiff nap.

Seret challenges her to face things she loves shying away from, things like the swelling of her heart which she hasn’t felt in years. Seret is terrifying, all consuming, but Lysandra can’t imagine a world without her. Much of her allure comes from her mystery, however infuriating her secrecy is.

Hours later, when they’re full and sated from dinner, after they wash the dishes side by side at the river and after they’ve bathed in the tub in the house, Lysandra hears a faint hum, high and low, continuous, lulling and soft. She turns her head and discovers it’s Seret, humming to herself as she drapes the wet towels out to dry. “What’s that you’re humming?”

Seret pauses her sweet melody. “Hm? Oh, just some music from the east. If I had the proper instruments, I would play the tune.”

Lysandra chokes on air. “You can play music, too?”

Seret smiles. “I can do many things.”

“Oh?” Lysandra doesn’t know where her sudden burst of courage comes from. Perhaps she’s the one looking to get somewhere. She raises an eyebrow and crooks a finger, hoping a low tone will convey her point. “Come here and show me.”

Seret is quiet, face blank. Lysandra wonders, belatedly, if she does in fact have unknown boundaries.

When Seret desperately searches her eyes for consent, Lysandra realizes it was shock and not disgust that rendered her speechless. “You mean—” Seret asks, hoarse, never breaking eye contact. Lysandra shivers. She had that effect on her?

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, Seret’s hungry gaze fixed on Lysandra’s pale shoulders, the towel wrapped around her middle. Then they’re both moving at once, mouths moving in the same pattern of Seret’s melody, a symphony of hearts beating in time.

If Lysandra is Seret’s world, Seret is the center of Lysandra’s.

***

At long last, Lysandra’s family gets wind of Seret. Lysandra doesn’t want to know how. Maybe Wynn and Petrus spread it around by accident—she loves those boys, but they couldn’t keep a secret if they tried. Maybe it was Arlin, who Lysandra finally let meet Seret.

All she does know is that her family is demanding to meet their middle princess’s lover, which means they’ll clarify if they’re allowed to be together or not.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whimpers, on the edge of tears in Seret’s arms. “I don’t want them to touch us with a ten foot stick, but if we don’t go, they’ll send someone out here to find us and disrupt our world. I’m so sorry.” Something about her family interfering in her and Seret’s affairs makes Lysandra boil like nothing else.

“It’s okay, my princess,” Seret murmurs into her hair, cupping the back of her head, rocking them back and forth. “We’ll go, I’ll tell them what they want to know, we’ll come right back here. It will only be a few hours. Their opinion won’t change how I feel about you, but I’ll do whatever you feel is best.” The sorrow in Seret’s tone implies too much.

Lysandra pulls back. “Don’t you ever think I’d leave you for my family. Right now, I’m thinking much the opposite.”

Seret purses her lips. “What objection would they have to me? The whole valley seems to like me, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re not a noble, you don’t have a title, you have nothing to offer them, you won’t even tell anyone where you’re from, and you’re the lover of their middle child.”

Her voice is bitter, matching her heart. Seret’s arms tighten protectively around her. Lysandra switches from bitterness to anger to guilt in a second. How dare her family do this to them? What makes them think they have this right?

They control Vashiri Valley, but Lysandra can’t remember the last time they appeared in public, and their power is distant at best.

They control Vashiri Valley, but they can’t control her.

“No matter what they say,” Lysandra says into Seret’s chest, “I am never leaving you. You’ll have to pry me away. Whatever polite, diplomatic accusations or insults they throw at you, ignore them. You don’t have to tell anyone, especially them, about yourself. You’re with me because I love you, and that’s all we care about. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs reassuring, Lysandra.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.” She pulls back from warmth to wipe her eyes, hot shame from crying coating her face, but Seret pulls her back in.

“There’s no shame here,” she whispers, kissing Lysandra’s temple. “Comforting you is my pleasure, though I wish you didn’t have a reason to cry. Everything’s going to be okay, my princess.”

Lysandra breathes.

She wears the gown she wore when she and Seret met, soft pink with a low neckline, tiered ruffles reaching down to her ankles, frilly short sleeves. Maybe familiarity will give her some comfort, whether that’s Seret’s hand on her thigh or this dress pinching her arm.

Seret wears the same black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket she always wears, thoroughly combs her hair, but leaves the hat at home.

At the dinner, she is perfect. she speaks only when spoken to, sits with that straight, enviable posture, praises the food like it’s the substance of heaven itself, the best she’s ever had.

She’s gracious, thankful, answers every question they ask. If she had a title, Lysandra knows her family would be simply begging them to marry.

Things start out pleasant, her family treating Seret with the polite, arm’s length attitude Lysandra expected. Finally, the dreaded question comes.

“So, Seret,” Lysandra’s mother asks, folding her hands, “where are you from?”

Lysandra clutches her necklace, the one Seret gave her, and prays. Please don’t let them be the first ones you tell. They don’t deserve that.

Seret smiles. “This soup is delicious, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve said so already.” Her mother is reaching the end of her patience—Lysandra has been on the other end of that short patience dozens of times. Her blue feathered hat and perfect red lips cover up a much nastier woman. “Please tell us about where you live.”

“Well, Lysandra and I have been living next to the forest all summer. The fields there are positively peaceful, you should visit them sometime.” She pauses to let horror sink into the hearts of luxury groomed royals. Lysandra bites down on a smile. “But I am technically still renting an apartment in the city.”

“Where you came from,” Lysandra’s father adds, sharp, on the end of his patience as well. Lysandra wonders how much Seret prepared for this. Seret is smart, she must’ve known she couldn’t wiggle her way out of the question with her usual tricks. “Maybe who your parents are.”

Seret appears to consider the question. “I’d rather not say,” she says, stirring her drink with her spoon. Silence falls onto the room. Lysandra holds her breath.

Her mother nods her head tightly. “Very well. In that case, we’re going to have to insist you stop seeing our daughter.”

Seret bows her head in humble acceptance, but Lysandra stands up, every fiber of her being filling with inexplicable rage. She told herself she wouldn’t display a reaction, she would just accept the denial and then ignore it, like Seret will, but hearing it so frankly from her mother’s lips is different from imagining it.

“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can and can’t see just because you feel like it,” she spits. “I’m an adult. I haven’t lived here full time or done the duties you ask of me for years. You should disown me. Save yourselves the trouble of dealing with me any longer.”

Seret’s hand lands firmly on her knee as if to say no, don’t. Lysandra captures her hand and holds it above the table for the whole family to see.

“You’re the one who chose to come here,” Lysandra’s mother says.

“Yes, because I knew you’d hound us if we didn’t.” Lysandra can feel her chest being ripped open from the top down. Seret’s fingers squeezing hers is the only thing tethering her to herself. She pulls tightly on Seret’s fingers, who takes the hint and stands. They walk out without another word, without a glance back.

When they get back to the cabin, Lysandra sinks onto the couch in their living room face first, and immediately begins to cry. The seconds it takes for the door to click and Seret’s boots to march across the wood are far too long, until warm arms wrap around Lysandra’s back and Seret buries her nose in the back of her hair. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, which only makes Lysandra sob harder.

“I don’t know why it still matters. I knew this was exactly what they’d say. I didn’t want it to affect me. I want to move on from them.”

Seret stays quiet, just letting Lysandra exist and holding her through it. They don’t speak about it again.

Things are different after that. The fields and the cabin have been tainted with mere mention of the royal family’s presence. The spell has been broken.

The wind comes less, the sun seems to burn in a way it didn’t before. Lysandra doesn’t treasure dawn and dusk the way she used to, and baths are just baths. The only thing that hasn’t lost its magic is Seret, as kind and loving as always.

A week later, Seret begins taking trips into the city to gather everything from her apartment and bring it to the cabin, everything of Lysandra’s from Wynn’s cottage.

No matter how many times Lysandra offers to help, Seret insists she’s fine, she doesn’t want Lysandra to come into the city and get hounded and harassed by the usual people dying to meet the princess.

Arlin and the others come to visit a few times to keep her company while Seret’s gone, to speak about the upcoming Academy year, their last year, to learn the place Lysandra disappeared to the entire summer.

She’s happy to see them, happy for the company, but her heart never stops aching for Seret, wondering what she’s doing. Arlin and the boys stay for dinner well after Seret’s back, so she’s never given a moment alone to think.

This continues for a month.

Arlin and the boys become as intimately familiar with the cabin, the fields, the river, and the forest as Lysandra was with Wynn’s cottage on the forest’s other side.

Lysandra flies toward the end of summer in a haze, perpetually afraid to break the peace, shatter the dream, feel the cold seep into her bones once more. She has grown so used to the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the safety of Seret’s arms and her soothing voice.

Seret is never too loud, never jarring. Seret seems to float on the wind; sometimes her mind is lost to Lysandra as she stares into the sky at nothing.

Seret is—

Seret is many things. Nothing at all. Everything all at once.

Ineffable.

On what Seret says will be her last day of moving, she kisses Lysandra’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back,” like always. Lysandra thinks that’s rather silly—of course she’ll be back, that’s a given—but it’s sweet.

Arlin and the boys won’t be over since they have to collect their books for school in two weeks and otherwise prepare. Lysandra spends the day in the river, letting the water suck all the thoughts from her head.

By the evening, as Lysandra waits on the porch with dinner ready, Seret is still not back.

She probably got held up with the loading carts she’s been using, Lysandra tells herself as she gathers her shawl, puts on a dress fit for the town’s eyes, and begins the long walk there. She stopped to have dinner, or something. Maybe she met Wynn’s dragonlings at last.

Seret would’ve run back here herself to tell Lysandra she wouldn’t be back until later because of the dragonlings, or she would’ve sent a magical letter, or something. Seret has told her over and over how much she hates to see Lysandra in pain, and how she’ll never, ever be the cause of even the slightest worry.

Dread sits heavily in Lysandra’s chest.

The area near the school is in chaos, looking for her. No one she meets will tell her what’s going on, why they refuse to meet her eyes, why they offer faint smiles in place of explanations.

When Lysandra is shown the rooms in the Academy Seret broke into, the bizarre circles drawn on the floor in chalk, the thick books lying open, the blood splattered all over the floor, and finally, Seret’s body lying on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed, Lysandra falls to her knees and doesn’t get up.

Her entire being is shattered with a force she didn’t know existed, with waves of invisible pain too strong for this realm. Everything feels empty and quiet, but not quiet in the serene way of Seret’s.

She screams, and it rips her open. It rips every part of good out of her and replaces her with numb, muffled, faint feeling. Later the waves of pain will come back, the longing for Seret’s warm arms to wrap around her and make everything all better, but now, she’s able to look at the body with only thin trails of tears streaming down her face.

Seret’s white shirt is soaked through with a circle of bright red blood. The whole scene is almost unreal. If not for the blood and the cold feel of her hand, Lysandra’s Seret Ashling looks the same. Her hair is neatly arranged, her face free of the splattered blood.

Death is too simple a word for what happens to Seret.

She is gone, says a voice, Seret’s voice, her smiling face haunting Lysandra behind her closed eyes. The ghost of Seret’s fingers cup her jaw, stroke her cheekbones, brush soft lips over her forehead, push her spectacles up.

I love you, my princess, Lysandra hears when she touches her ear to the floor, soaking the front of her dress with her blood, such a cruel reminder of Seret’s humanity. She was brutally, unfortunately, unbelievably human. She may have reached beyond this realm to grab a fist of love for Lysandra, a greater capacity than any human could hold, but that couldn’t save her from her own humanity.

I’ll be back. Seret’s last words to her.

She wasn’t just going into town to move.

Lysandra clutches the necklace Seret gave her and squeezes until it hurts. It fits easily in her palm, hangs right over her heart. The death of Seret Ashling is going to hit Vashiri Valley like the rare storms, unforgiving and violent, bringing destruction that takes years to recover from.

Lysandra squeezes the necklace, closes her eyes, and breathes slowly, steadily. The storm will wipe her out faster and harder than anyone else, but she’s the one who has to control it singlehandedly, and that will be about as easy as trying to capture an actual storm from the ground.

She won’t survive this, but she’s known for months that if anything ever happened to Seret, she never would. She can only submit to the darkness—the bad kind, this time—awaiting her, return to reality behind this door.

[pachimation]

hiya, I really love your art, and how you make your latest stuff look really vintage and aged, it’s really super cool and I was wondering if you’d be willing to share your process for that?? thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day!!! :D

aww thanks so much! and of course i can share my process, no prob!! ^^

i’ll be using this piece as an example, and uh, for the context of it u might have to look on twitter lol. but whatever

it’ll be a bit long so everything is under the cut

(this is just based on my process, and i know its weird and csp specific.

feel free to pick and choose pieces from my process!)

and also the programs i used were procreate and csp and i have a mac. u could probably do this with other set ups, but this tutorial might not be super helpful near the end

i usually make my lineart in procreate and import it into csp as a .psd file

for this, in procreate, select the file you want to export and click PSD and then I airdrop it to my mac.

i think the only thing about the lineart i have tips on is to keep it toothy/gritty if that makes sense?

i use the 6B pencil in procreate with a bunch of tweaks to the pressure sensitivity and opacity/size change.

but anything with a good size jitter should do the job!

in csp i shade and color the piece.

picking out the colors is a whole other mess

feel free to ask about it but ill skip for now ;v;

flat colors

csp has a lot of nice halftone options!

group up ur lineart and everything thats black rn in a folder and above them set a clipping layer to add

fill it with a color lighter than black; the less pure blacks and white u have on a piece the better

feel free to go to town w the grunge or noise texture of ur choosing! the grittier the better bc during this step i try to get the feel of worn off ink. just make sure the linearts still visible, though. u went through all the trouble to make it after all! ^^

(i have specific brushes but again thats something else u can ask me about)

above all the layers, make a multiply layer and do something similar.

same advice as above

this is ur “paper” texture, tho, so try to keep it more even in tone so things don’t get too messy

(but if it works for u, feel free to do it! find what works is my advice!)

ok time for some super csp-specific steps (sorry to non-csp users)

the csp asset store/website(?) has a lot of nice textures and brushes available.

look through it if u haven't

it will make ur life so much easier

theres a really nice tileable watercolor texture set there

(this one specifically)

(it also had some really good paper texture bc whoever made this is a godsend)

i slap that over the color layer, set it to clipping, and mess with the blending modes

its usually a tossup between soft light, overlay, multiply, and the overlay texture effect tho

theres another optional step of using the overlay texture effect on a paper texture

i didn’t do it on this example sorry :’(

i think i used another watercolor texture set to soft light on this piece?

after that, if u want, i like setting a noise texture at a v low opacity over everything for extra jitter

(i use this one. u can just make it in csp and probably any other drawing software but im lazy lmao)

save it as a png/jpg/etc.

and ur done!

i do some extra stuff to the final image like scale everything down and add a bit of a 3D effect for a bit of extra kick

(but again thats a bit complex and specific so feel free to ask but ill keep it short

for your sanity’s sake)

(and once again, the final image! ta-da!)

some tips to keep in mind i guess

jitter, grit and noise textures are very good things when u want something to look rough

avoid pure blacks and whites; most paper isn’t printed pure black or white and it only gets more faded and colored with time

if ur super lost, look at reference!! theres a lot of good artists and media out there to get inspiration from, and looking at scans of actual old comics is a nice way to see if ur work looks aged

(also u don’t have to use old comics as reference; i like looking at old vcr footage for reference bc of the texture!! :D)

that’s all i have for my general process

uhh for specifics feel free to ask

i can make more tutorials but this one is a general overview, i just didn’t to take up too much of ur time….

but i really hope it helped! and im very sorry if it didn’t 

i’ve never made a tutorial so im sorry if it didn’t answer ur question and also im sorry if this one’s not very useful

thank you for reading!!!

and thank you to whoever asked! :D

[passionate-reply]

This week, on Great Albums, we finally get around to discussing an industrial album--and we’ve started with one of the best there is, from the OGs themselves: Throbbing Gristle! (No, it isn’t jazz funk, I promise.) As always, full transcript under the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about one of the most important albums in the history of industrial music, and certainly one of the most...infamous. If you’ve ever noticed this album hanging on my wall in my other videos, you may well have wondered how an album that looks like this fits in with the rest of the stuff that’s up there. This record is the pioneering industrial group Throbbing Gristle’s classic 20 Jazz Funk Greats, and it’s essentially a bait and switch. It looks like a dorky, “family band” record from the bargain bin, but when you put it on, it sounds like this:

Music: “What a Day”

...well, not really. I’ve fibbed a bit here, much like Throbbing Gristle lied to you with this album cover. “What a Day,” one of the most sonically abrasive tracks on this album, is actually the second to last track! They take a little time to warm you up to the heavier stuff, actually. The first two tracks, the title track and “Beachy Head,” are still not really “jazz funk” by anybody’s standards, but they ARE decidedly softer than some of the other stuff you’ll encounter here.

Music: “20 Jazz Funk Greats”

Things arguably don’t start really heating up until we reach the third track on the album: “Still Walking,” which introduces us to ear-splitting distortion, rapid, disorienting percussion, and buried, albeit deeply ominous vocals, sounding like the first “typical” Throbbing Gristle track. It’s dense and almost comically busy, almost exhausting to listen to--and yet we have only just begun.

Music: “Still Walking”

So, where do we go from here? 20 Jazz Funk Greats wouldn’t be the legendary album that it is, if it was a one-note knock-knock joke, a jack in the box that emerges fully within the first few minutes of the album. What I think it really excels at is its ability to keep us on our toes throughout its entire runtime--it goes back and forth between showing a slightly friendlier face, and peeling back the skin of that face to show us the gory skull underneath. The whole thing vibrates along that contrast. Side two of the album, for instance, opens with one of Throbbing Gristle’s best-known tracks: “Hot on the Heels of Love.”

Music: “Hot on the Heels of Love”

Positioned squarely in the middle of the track listing, and at the crucial point of opening the second side, “Hot on the Heels of Love” certainly seems crucial to the album. It reads as a sort of dark parody of Giorgio Moroder’s famous “I Feel Love,” in which the voice of Donna Summer stands nakedly alone in a sea of pulsating synthesisers. It’s a pretty quick rebuttal, too, given that “I Feel Love” was released just the year before! Despite those sultry, breathy vocals, courtesy of Cosey Fanni Tutti, there’s no mistaking this one for a disco hit--not with its harsh hi-hats and gritty, highly textural synth scrapes. “Hot on the Heels of Love” features minimal lyrics--and they’re almost insultingly vapid--but 20 Jazz Funk Greats also features two prominent tracks that are much heavier in lyrical content, which I like to think as complementary to one another: “Convincing People” and “Persuasion,” which appear on the first and second side of the LP, respectively.

Music: “Convincing People”

Taken alone, “Convincing People” is weird, but it’s so vague and disorganised that it’s hard to come to a firm conclusion about what’s going on the first time you hear it. Unlike “Still Walking,” the fairly minimal instrumental accompaniment makes it easy enough to make out what the words are, without the sleeve handy. But it’s also so repetitive that it’s bound to infect you with semantic satiation, and fog up your brain’s ability to pay attention to those lyrics. The clearest statement “Convincing People” seems to be making is that you’ll never convince people when you come across as someone who’s trying to be convincing...well, alright, I suppose. But what really gives this song a darker significance is its counterpart on the flip, “Persuasion.”

Music: “Persuasion”

Abrasive numbers like “What a Day” and “Still Walking” are physically uncomfortable to listen to, but “Persuasion,” like the earlier Throbbing Gristle number “Slug Bait,” unnerves you with its lyrics instead. It takes up the mantle of a narrator who’s clearly a predatory, sexually violent character, and once again, a fairly simple instrumental makes us confront this vile subject matter head-on, as though we are alone in the room with this creep. “Persuasion” and “Convincing People” are actually extremely similar, but the biggest difference between them is that “Persuasion” is the escalation of their shared basic idea, with its much more explicit lyrics, and use of dissonant, unpredictable human screaming sounds. It’s actually a great metaphor for understanding how this album works--it gradually pushes our boundaries as we listen, worming its way into our consciousness like some masterful manipulator. And it dovetails with how Throbbing Gristle frontman Genesis P-Orridge would later style herself as a charismatic cult leader, with varying shades of irony, in later projects related to “Thee Temple ov Psychic Youth.” As we’ve recently been told, you don’t convince people by coming across as someone trying to be convincing. Or do you?

As I alluded to in the beginning, the name and cover design of 20 Jazz Funk Greats are a sort of musical booby trap, to hopefully ensnare innocent victims. It’s not jazz or funk, it doesn’t have twenty tracks, and its seemingly quaint cover photo, featuring the band in sunny surroundings, actually has a dark secret: the spot it was taken at, Beachy Head, is the most popular suicide destination in Europe, and one of the most popular worldwide. It’s Britain’s highest sea cliff, a stark, sheer wall of chalk that looms over the English Channel, and just a few feet away from where Throbbing Gristle are standing, people regularly throw themselves off of it. It’s a place where delicate natural beauty meets the profound human sickness sown by our twisted, exploitative industrial world. It’s just one more insidious detail, that heightens the cruel spirit of the album’s visual identity. It’s worth remembering that Throbbing Gristle were, first and foremost, provocateurs. I think that may be a better way to think about them overall, compared to thinking of them as “musicians.”

In my day, I’ve often seen 20 Jazz Funk Greats recommended as a good introduction to Throbbing Gristle, and to industrial music as a genre, more broadly. Industrial is one of the very few genres of music that was given its common name by an artist and not an outside critic--and we have Throbbing Gristle to thank for coining it, so they’re inarguably industrial royalty. Their catalogue remains indispensable to understanding what industrial is about--like so many acts we consider seminal or foundational, the seeds contained here inform a great deal of subsequent music. The problem, though, is where to begin, since they were arguably more of a jam band than a studio act, with legendary live performances that probably influenced other artists much more than anything they ever pressed on wax. Their discography is hairy, peppered with live recordings, non-album A-sides, and releases whose official vs. bootleg status is unclear. If you’re looking for a traditional album listening experience--as many music enthusiasts often are--it’s hard to do better than 20 Jazz Funk Greats.

At the same time, though, I think there’s something to be said for respecting the fact that Throbbing Gristle were never trying to offer anyone a traditional listening experience. Just the opposite! 20 Jazz Funk Greats is a Great Album, for sure, and it’s also a bit more of a softball than some of their other work, which arguably makes it a bit more accessible. But is it really all that fair to try and wring an “accessible” experience from a band like Throbbing Gristle, when it isn’t particularly representative of their work? Or is it better to meet them head on and try to tackle them on what appear to have been their own terms? If you’re new to them, but want to understand Throbbing Gristle and feel literate in their work, I think I might recommend their 1981 “greatest hits” compilation, Entertainment Through Pain, better than I would any of their proper albums--particularly if you’re like me, and prefer their more aggressive cuts to the ambient ones.

Music: “Adrenalin”

I think my favourite track is “Walkabout,” even though I would argue it’s one of the least “industrial” sounding tracks here. It isn’t heavy, rhythmic, or sludge-textured, but instead serves as a sort of “breather” between “Persuasion” and “What a Day,” a brief, floating melody that drifts by like a cirrus cloud. It’s both playful as well as devious, wedging itself between some of the hardest-hitting stuff, looking like it might be a reprieve, but ultimately leading right back into harsh musical territory--like an abuser love bombing you between some of their worst behaviour. Perhaps “Walkabout” is something like a masochist’s after-care, a moment of healing and cooldown after the excesses of simulated abuse. Or perhaps it’s the stillness and disquiet peace of the grave, for those who meet their end at the hands of “Persuasion”’s narrator? Ambiguity and possible irony are an integral part of Throbbing Gristle’s particular danse macabre...so I’ll leave the rest of the interpreting up to you. Thanks for watching!

Music: “Walkabout”

[in-tua-deep]

tua rewatch with the roommate

Episode five

Oh fuck the “I found you. all your bodies.” scene

“We died?” “Horribly.” throwback to the ben convo o o f

“If perfectly arranged under rubble and otherwise unharmed counts as ‘horribly”’  - roommate

I like that Diego says he’s going to kill Hazel and Cha-Cha like it’s a challenge?? lol five doesn’t care if they live or die he only cares if u do you big dumbass

“Well I know none of the main characters die bc there’s a season 2... and i’m pretty sure they’re all in s2... like all of the family?”

I mean luther is kind of valid for being frustrated that five didn’t share about the apocalypse but also like,,, the first person five told about it (Vanya) suggested he might be insane. so. i can understand some reluctance on his part on top of the whole “the last time my siblings fought this the Whole World Died Including Them i would like them as far away from apocalypse stuff as possible”

okay okay so five says “they turned me into the perfect instrument” so do y’all think that implies experimentation like in the comics or ????

all i can think about during the kennedy scene though is my high school history teacher. he went over the assassination in intimate detail and i’m pretty sure he was writing a book about it and everything. mr. hansen if you’re out there - 

i like feral beard five more than mustache five tbh if i’m picking 

“Someone ELSE shot the president? Was he supposed to shoot kennedy or was he supposed to kill the person who shot kennedy?” - Roommate

love that five tells luther to grow up over murder,,, though to be valid pretty sure they did actually murder people as kids SO. grow down?

fuck i love mary,, will you love me like you loved me in the january rain??? just shoot me in the heart

GOD rob is such a good actor

“wait a second... how is he wearing pants?” oh roommate you have a big storm coming

i have some serious questions about the commission and their methods of communication. where do?? the tubes come from? where do they go after?

Allison: i have a bad feeling [about leonard]

where are these instincts for everything else tho??? her marriage?

“Vanya. she really is trying to look out for you. i really would trust her. you could invite her to come along so she can see he’s perfectly fine??” - Roommate, whose instincts regarding not trusting leonard-harold are spot on

apparently my roommate knows people who put salt in their coffee. i have. so many questions.

“That’s suspicious?? that’s suspicious right?? did he do that? is he a secret serial killer? is he a FUCKING secret serial killer?” roommate when they talk about helen cho going missing

“What do you mean stop showing up it’s been like. a day” - I mean. the roommate has a point. 

Klaus’s depression bath is a mood :(

did klaus put eye shadow on before his bath or did he get his hands on eye shadow in vietnam?? the questions that will never be answered

Five is so enthusiastic about having someone who understands... he doesn’t even notice absolutely Not Being In The Mood,, klaus is grieving and five is just like !!! where did you go!!!! like it was a vacation

klaus: yeah i’m ten months older now. when i’m done being depressed i will lord that over diego for the rest of our natural lives.

does five write in all caps all the time?? why? 

roommate: I wonder what the upper size limit on the knives her can use. like is it machete length? forearm length? what are the limits on his powers. if he sharpened a very sharp mechanical pencil could he use it? if he sharpened a piece of the chandelier? at what point does something become a knife?

me: could he hurl mia (my cat)? mia and her knife feet?

allison also writes in all caps to write leonard’s address

we stan agnes and hazel in this household

“I never said we didn’t !! i just thought she was just a random extra in the first episode and every time we cut away i think that’s the last we’ve seen of her” - roommate because i keep saying that this is an agnes stan household

“OH THERE’S THE PATCHWORK COAT i was afraid it didn’t come back” - okay though good question he definitely didn’t have the coat on the bus. what is it with klaus and his magically appearing coat????

oh :(  oh klaus :(  every time klaus is sad i am also sad :(

honestly a family conversation IS the threat in this family

god though this random vet in this bar is actually an asshole though like. klaus doesn’t owe him shit. klaus served. he’s clearly having a moment with the photo. that could have been a family member or something who died i don’t even know

agnes: i’m a twitcher :)

“like a twitch streamer?” -Roommate

PLEASE give me twitch streamer!Agnes au

look i just enjoy hazel and agnes

roommate: honey you’re too young for her

me: NO DON’T BE MEAN TO THEM,,, agnes deserves a boytoy

“does diego drive a manual?” my roommate once again focusing on things that i do not

five: i have to find the people whose deaths could save the timeline

my roommate: is it agnes?? is he going to kill agnes????

i’m still laughing about that fact that luther is holding dolores.... over the fire escape... she couldn’t drop that far lads

luther’s dumb sometimes but he does have some nice heart to hearts with his brother,,,, honestly he and five get along pretty well in the early episodes. kindred spirits. body dysmorphia and isolation squad.

my roommate has to keep remembering social media doesn’t exist in this universe

i am still confused as to why

that won’t stop me from giving everyone iphones and youtube accounts in my aus though

diego can curve ANYTHING he throws, usually knives, according to cha-cha’s research. but that doesn’t explain the spoilers i have seen about s2 sO

Klaus: You also told me that licking a nine volt battery would give me pubes

HOW DID I FORGET THAT LINE

oh diego got a bullet graze forgot about that as well?? does he ever get like. medical attention for that? diego?????

it really has been like. maybe two days since helen cho died. is no one??? concerned????? they just immediately jump into replacing her??????????????????? hellO? 

“very clear camera angles to show that this actress did not actually play the violin for this role” - i mean that’s fair but ellen is trying rip

me: who’s your favorite character so far?  roommate: that’s a tricky question. klaus is very entertaining to watch. allison is the most reasonable and i’m very interested to know, well, she seems like the best combination of reasonable and has the least selfish intentions. diego and luther i feel like are both good in a bland way in that they’re both doing good in the best way they can which usually involves punching people. five is fun. five is very fun. five is as fun to watch as klaus, they’re both very fun actors to watch on screen. they’re more expressive than diego and luther tend to be.  me: so which is your favorite?????  roommate: first instinct says allison, though she probably has the least dynamic or interesting arc so far

are hazel and cha-cha the best because their victims never see them coming?? like. they aren’t really THAT competent.

“I do LOVE the aesthetic of an ice cream truck playing ride of the valkyries” - my roommate is valid

“LOVE the hypersaturated background in this scene. it’s more fun that having it be desaturated.”

five looks so baby in this scene with the handler :(

still unsure where five got that handgun but i’m vibing

hate when she touches his face !! awful!!!

the handler’s little “all of them??” like yeAH ALL OF THEM even though they irritate the living FUCK out of each other. siblings man

ben gets shotgun for the getaway !!! go ben!

“I’m starting to think... given how space and reality seemed to be warping during her playing... that her medication... isn’t for anxiety...” - oh, oh roommate

ah i blocked out the leonard vanya make out as well

“DIDN’T YOU MEET HIM TWO DAYS AGO?” - yeah i feel u roommate

yup there’s helen’s body

“CSI call crime scene investigation - that’s going to start to smell real soon”

pogo: and you understand that the children can never know

me: actually pogo fuck you

and that’s episode 5 everyone thank you and goodnight

episode six

i do love a good flashback to klaus

klaus: sees a shirtless soldier and instantly falls in love

they don’T EVEN QUESTION HIM just “KATZ GET THIS MAN A PAIR OF PANTS” and they go with it?? he just APPEARED and they don’t even care

klaus was really just vibing in the 60s huh

wait this is like 1962 or 63 right

when does s2 take place?? also the 60s right???

didn’t kennedy die in 1963 i feel like what i know about s2 contradicts that date but i could have sworn they said a round trip to 1963??????

luther is SUCH A MOOD in the family briefing.

“aww he’s a bad liar” - roommate

“I realize that [the umbrella] was necessary for the title drop but where the fuck did that come from”

@ the handler please stop touching five,,, but also five has such. non reactions to her touching him. which worries me. like she grabs his shoulder walking alongside him and he doesn’t even look at her

why are there gas masks in the briefcase room...

can you IMAGINE if your boss toted a child into the room and introduced him as the Legendary Time Travelling Assassin that the whole office had a betting pool over who would die that one time and is Definitely approaching 60 not 13... and then called him LEADERSHIP MATERIAL. implying that this child will probably get a promotion before you do?? can you IMAGINE?

“again... two days ago...” roommate about leonard and vanya

vanya really chose literally just the worst time to come back to the academy huh

okay but vanya going off?? valid, but also,, i mean. it IS their dads fault that they don’t have any relationship with vanya?

luther: it’s about the moon  roommate: critical role moon theory

hey like. how did the family get together in the first timeline holy fuck. it’s hard enough to get them together when they Literally Know The World Is Going To End

so remember diego getting grazed with a bullet yeah well he has a sling on now which makes sense!! and yet. when five got grazed by a bullet he SLAPS A BANDAID ON IT. someone please address this.

five is such an asshole coworker i love it

i wonder if dot is a mother. or just a nice coworker. she keeps trying to talk to him and invite him to lunch aww

i wonder if it’s purposeful on the handler’s part to call him “mr. five” instead of “mr. hargreeves” to like... further isolate him from his family? by removing his last name they’re sort of removing his ties to his siblings considering it’s not like they’re related by blood

forgot how much i hate the bathroom scene !! wow !! hate it so much!!! there’s so many violations of social etiquette in such a short scene! it’s so deeply uncomfortable!

luther: stop it pogo! you know everything our dad did

i am remembering once again how much i hate pogo all over again!! reginald literally locked klaus in a mausoleum!! he abused the kids! pogo didn’t even speak up about sending luther to the MOON,,, oh luther :(

he just learned his dad exiled him for no reason he has lots of rights his entire world view was just shattered wow i am like infinitely more sympathetic to luther on the second watch

“I knew allison and luther was a thing. you told me allison and luther was a weird thing. still not a fan.” - my very valid roommate

they could have made the fort so much more sibling-y instead of romantic and it would have been so much better honestly

oh dave :(

“I wonder who her primary care physician is and if she can find out what that medication was...” roommate i wish i knew

“I’m trying to decide if he knew ahead to time to try and get at her specifically or like... i don’t know when he took the figurine I was like ‘doesn’t he own an antique shop is he there to steal antiques from the family home’.” roommate on leonard

forgot the handler gifted five a suit. also don’t like that. don’t like her talk about his body and everything either.

“is it too much to ask to give him two outfits? one he can wear now and one with the new body?” - roommate

honestly with hazel’s talk on budget cuts i’m not surprised he only gets one suit

STOP TOUCHING HIS FACE,,,, HANDLER. STOP TOUCHING HIS FACE

five and his sweet tooth. don’t take the candy five. come on. what did your father TEACH YOU. honestly reggie probably was like “let them get kidnapped it will probably teach them a life lesson”

“there were like... villages that needed rebuilding after disasters. he could have been sending these packages to legit lunar research facilities. legit facilities would have adored to have that information.” 

okay but people KNEW he was on the moon. cha-cha mentioned it. it was in vanya’s book. why were scientists not knocking down reginald’s door demanding the research??? if i was a moon scientist i would have the mansion staked out trying to demand info jesus

“love his eye fluttering in the way of ‘oh shit i got something in my eye i can’t break character scene is still going scene is stILL GOING’“ - hilarious observations from the allison luther fort scene 2.0: grown up version that gets erased

did they just leave the fort up all those years. did no one USE the green house??? did grace lovingly work around it all that time?

oh :(  dave :(

grace is capable of lying and pogo is a shadowy motherfucker

“okay now that they’re actually putting it into the plot i understand why you don’t think he’s trustworthy but you really got on my back about that”

in my defense i just hate him tbh i did not like him when he first showed up and i never particularly liked him tbh

allison: i think you’re the only person who knows who i am and likes me anyway

me, remembering the theory that allison rumored luther to love her: HMMMMMM

okay but i think the luther and allison dance scene is fucking HILARIOUS. absolutely ridiculous. i mean i hate that it’s incest but also the fucking LIGHTS DESCENDING. the RANDOM WARDROBE CHANGE. 

roommate likes the green underskirt thing under allison’s random dance dress

are they just doing this in public???

ugh. the kiss. ugh. erased that from my memory as well

“they clearly want romance in this show but they painted themselves into a corner with the siblings thing” - roommate

five and his fucking STAPLERS isn’t this the second time he’s knocked someone out with a stapler?? the bank robber and now gloria??

five please your siblings were finally doing some decent work on their own issues :/

five is the kind of dramatic as fuck entrances 

“love how he just grabs [allison’s] coffee. kid needs a coffee after all that.” - roommate

five actually does a good job of rallying the siblings though?? they just broke the fuck up in the og timeline

“something tells me that harold jenkins might be leonard”

oh roommate

episode seven

uh oh harold was born

i feel vaguely bad for him

“me the night before a convention” - roommate on harold’s tape and cosplay and everything

okay but how did reginald even KNOW harold jenkins had no powers?? did he? keep tabs on all the forty some kids not just the seven he kept?

but also why the fuck are these people laughing at An Actual Child fuck all of them honestly

“did HE kill hargreeves?? I mean. he’s got motive.” - roommate

harold really said “i think my superpower is actually this hammer motherfucker”

how did he get twelve years?? was he tried as an adult?? was he in juvie? how old WAS he

twelve years ago... they’re 29 soooo seventeen? he did NOT look seventeen? he was NOT seventeen in that flashback what???

roommate theorizes that harold ran off after the murder and committed petty crimes until caught and tried for murder when he was seventeen so was maybe 13 in the flashback

okay so i looked up the timeline and he got out in 2014 or something so he was like 13 in the flashback which makes SO much more sense honestly but also what the FUCK was he doing for five years

“he’s actually laying out all the facts as he knows them and I appreciate that.” -roommate about five briefing the team

five?? the only member of the family with communication skills? it’s? somehow more likely than you think?

“allison’s pants that she’s wearing now are the most perfectly tailored things i’ve ever seen. not even a wrinkle when she’s standing still. do you know how hard that is to do?” again my roommate noticing the things i absolutely do not

five. five. you have a GUT WOUND and also jumped a BUNCH OF TIMES. you are not blinking into the police station and getting the file. you need some SLEEP. and REST. and WOUND CARE FIVE FOR FUCK’S SAKE. you still have a GUNSHOT GRAZE on your upper arm and a SLICE on your wrist from DIGGING OUT A TRACKER. FIVE.

diego wants to be batman SO BAD.

five crossing his arms and Not Uncrossing Them because he’s literally HOLDING HIMSELF TOGETHER.

wow luther is really handling this so much worse in this timeline rip

luther is losing validity points for CHOKING KLAUS i knew this happened but i didn’t remember how awful it was !!! bad and terrible! and luther is very drunk and very sad and very angry. oh. he’s saying he never left the house and never had friends for nothing :(

klaus had the realization that reggie was an asshole YEARS ago and he’s just kind of like “aww. luther :(” 

klaus is trying so hard

“Klaus has had the most heart to hearts with the most siblings honestly.” - roommate

allison at the beginning making her laugh in the office with the EYES, five on the steps of meritech, diego after the vet bar, luther on the couch...

wow cha cha really thought hazel was talking about how meaningful his partnership was with her when he was talking about agNES

five limping up the lawn and staggering up the stairs and clinging to the rails baBY SIT DOWN. YOU ARE BLEEDING.

“inspiring leadership” “one of the greats” what a sibling moment honestly.

five really said “i think i will pass the fuck out now”

five really said “hey i am literally willing to die for this mission because this mission is the safety and lives of my entire family and i love you guys :(”

except he doesn’t because five is decent at information sharing but getting feelings out of him feels like pulling teeth at times smh

is leonard trying to vicariously live his “normal child born on the umbrella academy day discovers they have had powers the WHOLE TIME” dream through vanya??

we yell about how leonard and vanya have known each other for like a week but i mean same for hazel and agnes!! he’s literally asking her to run away with him and she says yes !!!!! agnes is here for the romantic adventure with this man she’s really living her first hot girl summer and living for it

“she’s having her own little rom com! she thinks she’s living in a rom com not a dark sci fi!” - roommate accurate as usual

she just called ben the emotional support ghost and i mean... she ain’t wrong

honestly klaus should have just left luther to his rave, he didn’t get to party in his teens or during his college years or anything

i do appreciate the viking yell of “B R O T H E R” that luther greets klaus with though because that’s exactly how i greet my own siblings whenever i see them

oh klaus :(

oh klaus :(

he’s having war flashbacks, cravings, is in withdrawal, AND experiencing sensory overload while reliving one of the more traumatizing moment of his life

oh klaus :(

five in a bed for the second time of the season which is nice for him. if only the first time wasn’t because he passed out drunk and the second time wasn’t because of a whole shrapnel wound. i am now that captain of the Let Five Sleep brigade holy SHIT like at least they imply that the others sleep five is just feral and ready to go at all times

are the police allowed to just. remove someone’s arm sling? is that permitted? his arm could be fucked up? i mean. it is? he was shot?

“I saw everything my brothers and sister could do ruin their lives” VANYA some REALIZATION up in here,,,, admitting that the umbrella academy wasn’t exactly a desirable place to be is actually some real growth for her and leonard just fucking shuts her down? fuck that man

VANYA SEE THE RED FLAGS FOR WHAT THEY ARE COME ON

oh klaus :(  oh luther :(  oh :(

“love his corset side pants, like benedict from violet evergarden” - on the topic of Klaus’s pants

“I made everyone else so I must have made you” says god except for the fact that the kids just... surprise popped up instead of coming about the natural way. maybe god DIDN’T made them????????

oh klaus :(  prepare for disappointment :(

oh i didn’t notice the photos of the umbrella academy in the barbershop the first time i watched this

so klaus gives an age for the mausoleum... thirteen... do you think that was before or after five left? statistically it’s probably after bc it was only a couple of months after they turned thirteen that five vanished

Klaus’s “we were just kids” breaks my heart every time

if i was one of reggie’s kids i would have just not gone to the funeral. rip to the hargreeves kids but i’m different

he doesn’t even call klaus klaus in death, he still calls klaus number four. fuck that man.

“i was gonna say i’d have been very very surprised if they kept him dead” - roommate on klaus waking up

“Five bucks says he set these guys up to try and get something out of her” - the roommate being very perceptive

cha cha is VERY rude to my girl agnes

honestly why DIDN’T hazel just kill cha cha after her whole speech and threats about killing agnes slowly in front of him???? like he literally watched her try to kill him as well

why wasn’t diego arrested in the original day that wasn’t actually?? he was being considered already. he still left the house, albeit with grace instead of allison. why wasn’t he arrested then???????? 

roommate thinks it’s interesting how committed the show is to their old timey shit. she used a nicer words like anachronisms but the point is: w h y

are these episodes even longer than i remember?? holy SHIT

[slashyrogue]

AU-gust Day #30: Magic AU

Hannigram AU: Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

There was a witch next door. 

Will had watched him move in from his front window, annoyed at the crowd of his neighbors who stood gawking in their front yards not even bothering to pretend they weren’t desperate to welcome this strange man in their lives. 

Everyone knew that witches weren’t to be trusted. 

They used your own desire against you, preyed on them, and for a small fee would give you just that very thing for a short while. Witches didn’t give magic freely, and they sure as shit didn’t move into completely human neighborhoods without motive. 

This witch, whatever his name was, wanted something from all of them. 

Will was determined not to go near him. 

Then, of course, his best friend and fellow neighbor Bev brought the witch to his house. 

Bev and Will had a very close relationship that had only grown in the years since she pushed her way into his life. He loved Bev, despite her constant need to try to push her way into his non existent love life, and every Monday they played cards with Alana Bloom and her wife Margot. Will loved card night, though he pretended not to, and that Monday he was ready to host in his house. 

The knock at his door made him smile and when he opened up to his guests he froze. 

“Will! Look who I brought with me. Margot is sick, so I invited Hannibal. I don’t think you’ve met yet?” 

Will glared at her. “No.” 

Hannibal, the very same witch who lived just across the street from Will and who he’d avoided for almost two weeks now, smiled as he held out his hand. 

“Hannibal Lecter, nice to finally meet you.” 

Will stared at the offered hand. “I’m not...” 

Bev grabbed his hand and smashed his palm into Hannibal’s, who then shook their hands together. He shivered at the touch, his eyes wide, and Hannibal blinked. 

“Oh, I see.” 

“C’mon guys, let’s get playing!” 

Bev and Alana pushed past him but Will stared at Hannibal not letting go. 

“What do you see?” 

Hannibal smiled. “You don’t like magic much, do you Will?” 

“No,” he said, “I’ve...heard nothing but bad things about...the people who use it.” 

“From your mother? Father?” 

He bristled. “What business is it of yours, Mister Lecter?” 

“It isn’t,” he said, gently pushing Will to the side, “But I think perhaps...you’ve been misled for a very long time. Magic users are not all bad. You may one day wish to get to know one just a bit and see that for yourself.” 

Will watched him go the card table, oddly warm, and stared at the hand Hannibal had touched. 

His hand was glowing. 

He felt his heart beat wildly in his chest as he locked eyes with Hannibal, who raised his hand up for Will’s view. 

Hannibal’s hand was glowing too. 

“What the fuck?” Will whispered. 

He walked over to the table, sat down across from Hannibal, and Bev began to deal. “Five card stud?” 

“Fine,” Will said, barely hearing her as she started to deal them all in.

Hannibal never once took his eyes off of Will, nor did he stop touching his hand that still glowed. Alana and Bev didn’t even seem to notice. 

“See?” Bev whispered, leaning in as she patted Will’s arm, “Witches aren’t all that bad. You might even learn something about yourself if you’d just...try new things. You know?” 

Will let out a long breath as he looked at the glow of his palm again. 

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his gaze to Hannibal who smirked back, “I already am.” 

Bev grinned. “Yay! See, I knew it was a good idea to invite Hannibal over. Gotta get you out of this anti witch stuff, right?” 

“Right,” Will mumbled, squeezing his hand as he felt the warmth of the glow still. 

The game ended up being one of the worst Will ever played, mostly because he couldn’t pay any attention to what was going on, and yet Hannibal did fairly well. He didn’t beat everyone, though Will was almost sure that was only because he didn’t want to, and as they headed into the next he vowed to win. 

“Now we’re gonna play Will’s favorite,” Alana said, grinning, “And my wife’s too, so let’s all have fun for her.” 

“What are we playing?” Hannibal asked, taking a bite of the cake he’d brought. 

“Poker,” Will said, smirking, “Have you played?” 

“I have,” Hannibal said, “Though it’s been some time since I last indulged. What are the rules again?” 

Will’s agitation as he watched Alana and Bev fawn over Hannibal only grew, and his whole body felt hot the longer he shared space with him. The witch was doing something to make Will feel this way, he just knew, but Alana and Bev wouldn’t believe him. 

He was quite sure of that since neither of them noticed Hannibal’s glowing palm as he passed out pieces of his cake. The smug smile he gave Will when he handed over a piece to him made Will want to punch him in the face. 

“I hope you like this,” he said softly, “It’s an....old family recipe.” 

“Eye of newt and toe of frog then, huh?” 

“Will!” Alana said, hitting his arm. 

Hannibal smiled. “It’s quite alright,” he teased, “The eye of newt is of course much a part of the recipe but I ran out of frog toes so you’ll have to settle for cinnamon.” 

Both Bev and Alana laughed. 

Will stared at the cake. He could say he wasn’t hungry, or just set the plate down without even taking a bite. Alana and Bev would say he was rude, but that would blow over. 

Something made him take a bite. 

The taste was amazing. 

He swallowed, suppressing a moan, and set the plate down. “It’s ok,” he lied, “A little dry.” 

Will watched the teasing glint go out of Hannibal’s eyes. 

“Will, stop being an ass! Hannibal, the cake is delicious. Will just hates good things.” 

He watched Hannibal set his own plate down and frown. “Thank you.” 

The rest of the night Hannibal was oddly subdued, and Will noticed their glowing hands began to dim. He felt his chest grow tighter the more he watched the light go to almost non-existent while they played. Will’s guilt ate away at his concentration again enough that he lost poker, not that he cared much, and the minute the game ended he picked up his cake again to take another bite. 

Will could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him as he pressed his fork into the moist dessert, and when the cake hit his tongue he was certain he had witch’s entire attention. He let himself indulge, eating every bite, and when he looked up Hannibal was smiling. 

“You’ve come to appreciate the dryness, now?”

He blushed, setting the fork down, and took a long sip of his beer. 

“That’s what the beer is for.” 

Alana and Bev both smiled at him in that horrible knowing way that he hated. 

“Beer and cake,” Bev said, “My kind of meal.” 

Hannibal held out his hand. “Would you like another?”

His hand was glowing bright now, almost so bright Will’s eyes hurt, and as annoying as this all was he felt immensely better. “Please.” 

Alana yawned exaggeratingly. “Well, I think I’m getting REALLY tired so I’m gonna go check on my wife. You all have fun but....” 

“I’m going too!” Bev said loudly, jumping up so fast the chair almost fell over, “I...uh....have work to do.” 

“At ten o’clock at night?” Will asked, taking the piece of cake from Hannibal. 

“Yes,” she said, pushing her chair into the card table, “I...have lots of work.” 

“You manage a comic book store,” Will said. 

“Inventory,” she said, lifting up her hands, “I...I have lots of inventory.” 

“Goodnight guys!” Alana said, grabbing Bev’s arm and almost pulling her. 

Will rolled his eyes and took a bite of his cake. 

“I suspect that this was more than a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ invitation.” 

He scoffed. “No shit.” 

“I...suppose you’d like to talk about this.” 

Hannibal held up his glowing palm. 

Will held up his own as he set down his fork. “You think?” 

“What do you know about your mother, Will?” 

“What does that...” 

Hannibal reached across the card table and took Will’s glowing hand in his. The effect was immediate heat, almost too much, and Will pulled away. 

“Your father told you bad things about witches your whole life, I’m assuming. So much so that you grew to hate witches and magic of any kind, but there was a growing feeling inside that you fought to keep in. Am I correct?” 

Will squeezed his hand. “Yes.” 

“And you thought that feeling was some sort of curse that would haunt you the rest of your life?” 

“What are you trying to say? That I’m a witch? That my mother...” 

Hannibal snapped his fingers and a flame shot out of his glowing palm. Will stared at the flame, mesmerized, and felt an urge to touch. 

“You can,” Hannibal purred, holding his hand out for Will, “I promise you, Will. You can touch all you’d like.” 

Will put his hand over the flame and gasped at the feeling. His eyes filled with tears. 

“My father hated me so much he made me hate myself? That’s what you’re trying to tell me.” 

Hannibal grabbed his hand, snuffing out the flame, and pulled Will forward. 

“You have magic in you, Will. Our magics are...attracted to one another. It’s not uncommon for witches to find companions this way or just...teachers. I would like to teach you. If you’d let me.” 

He pulled his hand away, staring at the glow, and then at Hannibal again. 

“No. I’m...no I have to...you need to go.” 

“Will...” 

“GO!” Will said loudly, just as suddenly several things flew across the room. 

Hannibal stood. “You’re making a mistake.” 

“It’s my mistake to make. Please, just go.” 

He looked away as Hannibal headed for the door. 

“You have such power in you, Will. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s...quite something.” 

Will turned away, tears filling his eyes, and when the door closed he covered his face with his hands. 

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he yelled. 

It couldn’t be true. 

His dad wouldn’t do this to him. 

He wasn’t a witch. 

Hannibal was just---

Will lifted his hand, and saw how the glow was still so very bright. He stood up, walked to the door,  and opened up to Hannibal sitting on his porch. Hannibal didn’t turn. 

“I apologize,” he said, holding up his hand, “I found it very hard to go.” 

He sighed, stepping out, and sat down beside him. 

“They’re both watching us.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal said, smiling at him, “I confess that was one of the positives I associated with staying. Your friends may think you kicked me out and force you to talk to me again.” 

Will scoffed, shaking his head. “I....” 

“You never knew your mother?” 

“She left when I was too little to remember knowing her,” he said, staring at his hand, “But...she’s still alive. I get cards every now and then that I usually throw away.” 

“I see.” 

“If this is true,” Will said, staring out at the street, “And I let you help me, what’s in it for you?” 

“The pleasure of your company, and the satisfaction in knowing I helped your magic grow.” 

“So, bragging rights that you nabbed a powerful new cult member?” 

Hannibal reached for his hand and Will trembled when he squeezed their palms. 

“Something like that.” 

“Strictly business, then. Just keep it professional?” 

“Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly.” 

Will pulled his hand away, rubbing where they’d touched. “I don’t find you that interesting.” 

“You will,” Hannibal whispered.

He looked at him again, really looked, and felt an immense fear. 

“This could be the biggest mistake I ever make.” 

Hannibal smiled. “We all make mistakes, Will, but this is not one of them.” 

Will sighed, “Okay, I’ll...let you teach me, or pull whatever hidden magic in me there is that’s just dying to get out.” 

He felt like a weight had been lifted when Hannibal took his hand again and ran two fingers over his palm. 

“Thank you for giving me this gift.” 

“Aren’t you going to be the one giving me the gift?” 

“Yes, I suppose,” Hannibal said, standing and letting Will’s hand drop, “But the true gift is getting to watch your magic grow. I am but a guide in this, Will, guiding you on your journey to becoming who you were born to be.” 

Will blushed, rubbing his hand again. “Oh.” 

“And with that, I will bid you a goodnight.” 

“But...when are we gonna start?” 

Hannibal smiled. “I will contact you when I feel the time is right. Goodnight, Will.” 

Will frowned. “Goodnight.” 

He watched him go, feeling oddly lonely, and when the door to Hannibal’s house closed he went inside his own. Winston ran up to greet him as he sat down on the couch. 

The light in his palm was dimmer now, and Will wanted the brightness of before to return with every fiber of his being. 

And he had no idea why. 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 14th, 2001

“So, wait...what do I call you?” Emile asked them.

“You can still call me Jordan, man. It’s my name,” they said. “I just happen to be genderqueer, instead of a woman, like you thought.”

“Right...” Emile said, struggling to understand. “I’m sorry, I really don’t understand a lot of this, but I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, Emile, that’s why I told you,” they said, patting his arm. “Lots of people don’t understand perfectly, and those who do are usually genderqueer themselves.”

Emile nodded. “Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Of course!” Jordan exclaimed. “After seeing you with Remy, I knew I could trust you with this.”

“Wait, what? Remy? Why?” Emile asked.

“Isn’t he trans?” Jordan asked, frowning.

“Not that I know of?” Emile said.

“Oh,” Jordan said. “My mistake, then. Still, anyone who’s queer has a better chance of understanding than someone who isn’t. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Emile said, letting Jordan go. Emile’s mind was reeling. Why did Remy keep getting clocked as trans?

  June 20th, 2002

Emile was living for this moment. He and Remy had just taken their first few steps into the pride parade, Emile wearing what he had dubbed his “Remy-approved skinny jeans” and an old T-shirt that looked exactly like one that Remy might wear. Remy was wearing that infernal leather jacket, a pair of blue jeans and that green gingham blouse he had gotten in February. And already, they could see dozens upon dozens of people just like them, walking around and having a good time as the pride parade was in full swing.

Remy held Emile’s hand, but the looseness of his grip meant that he wasn’t worried about losing Emile in the crowd, he just wanted to hold hands. And Emile loved it. “Where do you want to go first, Rem?” Emile asked.

Shrugging, Remy looked around. “Not sure. I’m a bit curious about that stall over there,” he pointed.

“Let’s check it out, then!” Emile said, walking Remy over there. “Hi!” he chirped at the individual running the both. “What are you representing at the pride parade today?”

“Oh, this is a stall for nonbinary support!” the individual replied.

“Non...binary?” Remy asked.

“It’s a label for people who don’t identify as a man or a woman,” the individual explained. “You may have heard the term ‘genderqueer’ before? Nonbinary is similar, but for those who don’t want to use the word ‘genderqueer.’”

“That’s an option?” Remy asked. “You really can be neither? I mean, Emile said something about this in passing before, but...”

The individual nodded. Emile looked Remy over. He looked...not perturbed, but definitely curious. “You think that describes you, Rem?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, I’m cis, Emile, I’ve told you before.” Remy shook his head. “I’m definitely cis. I’m just curious. I’ve never heard of that as an option before.”

“Okay,” Emile said. Remy moved away a couple feet and Emile glanced at the individual at the stall. “Thanks for explaining that to my boyfriend and myself.”

“Hey, no worries,” the individual said. “Though your boyfriend? Don’t tell him, but anyone who shows that much interest in nonbinary identities? Is usually not cisgender.”

“Yeah, I know,” Emile sighed. “But he’s extremely closeted if he’s nonbinary. And I love him either way, bisexual, and all that, but...I don’t want to push him.”

“Understandable,” the individual said. “Whenever he’s ready, be there for him. We’ll all be in his corner when he decides.”

Emile nodded and thanked them, heading over to where Remy was talking with someone who seemed to be from that comic company that Remy had been obsessing over for the past year. Remy glanced at him and smiled. “Hey. You have a good conversation with them?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “They clarified some things a little further for me. I don’t know if you’d be interested...?”

“Not at the moment, no offense to them,” Remy said. “I just have a hard time wrapping my head around that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Emile said. “There’s only so much new information you can take in at a time.”

“Exactly,” Remy said, looking back at the comics.

“So, anything new about the comics that you can confuse me with?” Emile asked.

Remy laughed. “Oh, come on, you’re not that interested in my stuff,” he said.

“It’s important to you, so it’s important to me,” Emile said, putting a hand on Remy’s shoulder. “Now, come on. Why don’t you at least try to explain instead of just saying you’ll immediately lose me?”

“You won’t understand,” Remy warned. “You haven’t read the comics, you won’t get it.”

“But I’m willing to try and understand,” Emile said.

Remy sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not really. If you don’t explain now, I’ll ask you to explain when we’re home and you can point out parts in the comics.”

“Why don’t we do that from the start? You read and I explain when you get confused?” Remy suggested. “It would be easier with visuals, wouldn’t it?”

“I mean, maybe...” Emile said.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll explain when we get home,” Remy said, smiling softly. “And for what it’s worth...I appreciate your efforts to understand.”

Emile smiled back and when Remy took an obligatory bookmark from the booth, they kept walking inward.

After a time, they could hear music being played from one of the booths, rather loudly, and they both gravitated towards it. When they got to the booth, there was a little bit of open space, enough for two people to dance in. Emile grinned and turned to look at Remy, who was glancing at Emile. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Emile asked.

Remy just grinned and offered his hand to Emile. “Care to dance?”

Emile took the hand with a grin and yelped as Remy immediately rushed forward into the open space, just as “Mambo No. 5” started playing on the speaker. They both laughed as Remy led Emile around the small open space, their dancing not very well-coordinated with each other but having fun all the same.

By the time they reached the chorus, there was a small crowd watching them as they slowly got more in tune with each other’s moves. Remy was laughing, and Emile giggled along with him. This was great fun, and he didn’t even care that people were watching, for once. It was just him and Remy in the world, dancing along to a silly song.

As they reached the end of the song, Emile dipped Remy and swooped in for a kiss, causing the crowd around them to cheer. Remy brought a hand to Emile’s cheek near the end of the kiss, and when Emile righted them both, flushed and grinning, Remy huffed. “I have half a mind to tell you off for that kiss.”

“Aw, no one’s gonna come after us for it, Rem,” Emile said with a shrug.

Remy was still huffing a little as they moved on and another couple replaced them in front of the music. “Still. I need revenge.”

“How are you gonna—” Emile yelped as Remy slapped his butt. “Rude! You won’t let me touch your butt and yet you can touch mine?”

“Mine was in revenge, not just because,” Remy said, a smug grin on his face.

“Rude!” Emile repeated.

Remy shrugged. “Don’t deny that you like it, I know you do,” he said.

“Not the point!” Emile exclaimed.

“Look, Emile, I let you tongue me in public. A lot. And that gets me...excitable. It’s only fair that I have something to even the playing field,” Remy said.

Emile blinked. “You...get excited when I tongue you?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Have for at least a couple months, but probably longer. It’s not a huge deal, but it still seems unfair that you can do that but I don’t have any way to return the favor.”

Considering this, Emile adjusted his previous statement. “Okay, not rude. Just cheeky.”

“In a good way?” Remy asked.

“Is there such a thing as a good kind of brash and forward?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “It’s like when someone flirts with you and asks you out on a date the first day of meeting you.”

“I wouldn’t really call that ‘brash,’” Emile sighed. “But it’s whatever, I guess. You have your revenge, now.”

Remy grinned and said, “I hope you realize I’ll do this any time you decide to tongue me in public.”

“Yeah, I kinda had that part figured out,” Emile said, rolling his eyes. He was fighting back a smile as he added, “It’s part of your charm.”

“Stubbornness is part of my charm?” Remy asked.

“Well, it’s either part of your charm or it’s a drawback, and personally, I don’t really see any drawbacks about you,” Emile said with a shrug.

“Oh, so the ‘part of my charm’ is you being an antiquities dealer trying to sell that old haunted baby doll that no one in their right mind would ever buy off you, got it,” Remy teased.

“Not exactly,” Emile said. “Because I don’t want anyone to buy you off me.”

“I—oh,” Remy said simply. “Okay.”

Emile nudged Remy. “Come on, you didn’t seriously expect me to say anything else?”

“I mean...no, but it’s one thing to expect it, another to actually...hear it,” Remy said. “I...I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Emile shrugged. “Affirmation can be very powerful,” he offered. “Just hearing someone say that your feelings are acceptable, even if you knew that before, can leave quite an impact.”

Remy blew out a breath. “I did not expect us to get this sappy at pride. I just expected us to have a good time running around like lunatics, in all honesty.”

“Hey, we can still do that, if you want,” Emile offered.

“Maybe after grabbing something to eat? I’m getting kinda hungry.”

“Sure,” Emile agreed.

They went to the food trucks, Emile with his ID at the ready, not that he really expected to be buying any alcohol. Looking around a little bit, they settled for hot dogs and a soda each, and settled down at one of the picnic tables strewn around. “So,” Remy said.

“So?” Emile asked.

“What do you think of my outfit choice today? Be honest,” Remy said. “The skinny jeans and blouse, I know you always have thoughts when I wear stuff like this. But you almost never share them.”

“Well,” Emile paused. “I just don’t always know if my thoughts are welcome.”

“Unless you’re being insulting, your thoughts are always welcome,” Remy said.

Emile chewed on his hotdog, trying to buy some time. When he swallowed, he said, “Admittedly, I wonder if you’re actually trans when you wear this sort of stuff. Or at least gender non-conforming.” Remy got that familiar set in his jaw and Emile said, “That response! Right there! Is why I don’t bring this up.”

Remy huffed. “I’m cis, Emile. I don’t know why that’s so hard for you to understand!”

“Remy, listen. It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Emile said. “You say you’re cis, then you’re cis. Okay. I’m not trying to question your decision on your own identity. But...you certainly behave differently when you wear more feminine clothing. Not, like, noticeably to most. But you prefer being called pretty, you don’t mind me calling you ‘girl,’ and you sometimes look at women wearing feminine clothing with a sense of...longing, I guess would be the word. And you don’t do any of these things when you don’t wear more feminine clothing.”

Remy looked surprised. “I do that?”

Emile nodded.

“Huh,” Remy said. “But only when I wear my blouses?”

“That I’ve noticed,” Emile said.

“Well, what am I supposed to do with that? I can’t just be ninety percent cisgender, can I? And the other ten percent would be, what? A woman? What about the days where I don’t like being pretty or handsome? It doesn’t make sense, Emile,” Remy sighed. “I act like I’m cis most of the time, so I’m cis. That’s the best answer I’ve got.”

“Okay,” Emile said, feeling somewhat sad. Remy was just...settling for the best answer he had, instead of looking for something that might fit him better. He didn’t want Remy struggling like that for the rest of his life, but...he couldn’t force Remy to look for a label that fit better. So if Remy wanted to be cis, Emile would have to accept that. And if one day, that no longer fit, well, then Emile would be there to help Remy through the process of finding a new label that fit better. Because Emile would never not want to help Remy. “Anywhere specific you want to go after we finish lunch?”

“Not particularly,” Remy said with a shrug. “Not many places in particular that caught my interest last year. I just like the sense of community I get from coming here, more than anything else. That, and watching you loosen up some.”

Emile laughed. “I thought you said that when I loosened up I reminded you of that overly-cheery nerd you first met in college?”

“Oh, no, you do,” Remy said. “Don’t get me wrong. But it’s fun to see every once in a while.”

Emile grinned. “I love you, too.”

[mayquita]

Damn You For Making Me Love You (13/15) - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd​​​ I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans​​ and @onceuponaprincessworld​​​, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang​​​ for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 6600 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: What might happen when you put six people together in a cabin to celebrate New Year with all those simmering feelings around them?

//

Chapter 12:  Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Emma - December 2019

Emma could barely contain her excitement as they approached their destination.

They had been so busy the previous week that she was looking forward to enjoying this well-deserved break for everyone. Not only because she would be able to really rest and disconnect for a couple of days, but also because this trip would allow her to spend time again not only with Killian but with the most important people in her life.

Christmas week had been crazy. The number of clients did not stop growing, which meant not only an increase in their income but also an increase in work. During the past few days, she had spent more time helping behind the bar than taking pictures.

The prominent success of The Kraken was also reflected on different social media platforms, as they gained new followers every day, while the number of comments that these followers left was increasing. Even the poll to choose the song on Saturday had been a resounding success, getting a lot of participants who not only dedicated themselves to voting but to give their opinions not only on the songs but also on the singers themselves.

The corners of Emma's lips rose as she read through the new comments that had appeared in the last hours on her phone. They had a passionate audience, no doubt, to the point that they had even started shipping Emma and Killian together, with non-subtle comments about it.

Omg! Their chemistry on stage is awesome. Can you imagine that one day they surprise us with a kiss after singing? I'd die if that happened. The Kraken is my favorite bar and I go there every Saturday. And now with even more reasons to go. I love Killian and Emma duets. They're fantastic together. Killian is the best singer ever, but with Emma by his side, they manage to create magic. Are they really together or does it just seem like it? I think Memories has been their best performance together so far. It was amazing!!! And I love the songs participating in the new poll. I’ve already voted, looking forward to seeing them sing together Don't Stop Believing. I believe in them.

"What's so funny?" Killian asked as he stretched his neck to try to take a look at her phone screen. 

They had decided to travel in one vehicle, with Liam the one designated to drive, since it was his own car. The passenger seat was occupied by Elsa, while Killian and Emma were relegated to the back seats, although this time Killian didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Stuff about The Kraken," Emma explained, handing him the phone. "People seem to ship us," she continued in a lower tone as she glanced forward to make sure the other two were not paying attention to them.

They hadn't told anything to anyone about the new level reached in their relationship. Not that there was much to tell, she had tried to convince herself. They might have shared several kisses but they hadn't talked about feelings, not really.

Well, to be honest, since she had asked him to be patient they had shared more than just chaste kisses. It was as if, even though the armor around her heart hadn't yet disappeared completely, she was having serious difficulties in curbing her physical attraction to him once she had been able to taste his lips — and remember it.

He was a hell of a kisser. Of course he was, she wasn't surprised at all. Still, she had only succumbed once more after Christmas, in a steamy moment shared minutes before Killian took the stage last Saturday. She had followed him to the office to grab the guitar and jumped on him the moment the door had closed behind them, leaving him breathless, flustered, and with his hair completely disheveled just before going on stage. His performance had been the best so far, to her delight.

She was surprised that this new level of intimacy with her best friend had not caused an awkward atmosphere between them. Perhaps her fear that everything would change between them slowed her down before giving him her heart entirely, but the truth was that their first kiss had awakened a wave of sensations swirling inside her, offering her a glimpse of what it could be to be completely with Killian, in both body and soul.

Emma cast a last sidelong glance at Killian, who was staring at her phone screen, a gleeful expression on his face. Then she turned her head in the direction of the car window and focused her gaze on the landscape they were going through, finding snowy fields, large trees on the roadside and the mountains in the background drawing an idyllic picture, giving her just a taste of what they would find when they reached their destination.

//

The cabin was everything they had expected and more. It was located in a clearing between mountains, surrounded by trees and endowed with an aura of peace and tranquility. The interior was quite cozy, decorated in stone and wood, with large windows that offered a privileged image of the surroundings, and a large fireplace that occupied a prominent place in the living room.

Anna seemed to have conveniently forgotten to mention one aspect though. There were only two bedrooms, each including a king-size bed.

Since both Anna and Kristoff had been there since the weekend, they had obviously already chosen a bedroom, the master suite, which not only had a giant bed but also included its own bathroom, a fireplace, and direct access to a small private porch overlooking the snowy mountains.

"Isn't it a wonderful place?" Anna could barely contain her enthusiasm while acting as a proud hostess, showing them every little detail of the cabin. "We can watch the sunrise while we lie in bed."

"Yeah, it's fantastic. But Anna, do you realize that we are four people and there is only one more bed?" Elsa was the one who decided to address the issue that really mattered to them while everyone else exchanged furtive glances.

"Oh, that's not a problem at all," Anna answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The living room couch is actually a sofa bed with room for two people. Kristoff and I have thought that you two guys can share the sofa while the other room would be for the girls."

"Unless you decide on a different room arrangement, of course," Kristoff added, raising his eyebrows with a not so subtle smirk adorning his lips.

"We'll manage," Liam hurried to answer as he scratched behind his ear, revealing with his gesture that he was nervous. At least in that regard, the two brothers were very similar.

This time Emma didn't even bother to protest about the distribution of rooms.

In fact, if she hadn't been one of the people involved she would have found the situation quite comical, four people in their thirties avoiding looking at each other and appearing clearly uncomfortable while thinking, surely, that, if the circumstances were different, they would have preferred a different bed partner.

Emma had to suppress a nervous laugh as an idea began to set in her head. They had come to this place not only to disconnect from the big city, but to have a good time with friends. She had at least placed many expectations on this trip since they had everything at their disposal to make those two days unforgettable in every way.

One thing was clear, she did not plan to say goodbye to the year with uncertainty in her heart and doubt in her mind. She had better find a moment to have a conversation with Killian that she should have had a long time ago. But she wasn't going to let another year go without confessing her feelings. And if for that she had to resort to certain unorthodox measures, she wouldn't hesitate to do so.

She cast a sidelong glance at Killian before accompanying Elsa to move their belongings to the assigned bedroom. The burning gaze he returned had the ability to make the butterflies in her stomach flutter furiously. He raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head to the side slightly, as if he were asking, without words, what she was up to, proving once again how well he knew her. In response, she bit her lower lip and then mouthed a simple later, before turning around and heading to the bedroom.

When Emma was left alone momentarily with Elsa, she was tempted to question her friend about her possible relationship with Liam. They had been so busy in the past few days that they had barely had time to chat beyond the normal conversations generated due to living together. But Emma was really dying to know Elsa's true feelings. She had remained quite reserved about it since she started whatever she had with Liam.

"So, are you ever going to tell me what's really going on between you and Liam?" Clearly finesse was not Emma's forte.

To her credit, Elsa's face remained almost impassive, only a faint shadow of surprise crossing her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Emma. He and I are just friends, you know that." Her blank expression suddenly changed, giving way to one of defiance. "I guess you're used to that term, friends, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm not the one who kissed a Jones in front of everyone last week." Emma's voice didn't even tremble as she counterattacked. Technically she wasn't lying, but the truth was that she had devoured Killian's mouth just a few minutes before the mistletoe incident.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that, believe me. Of you not kissing a certain Jones under the mistletoe, I mean. Such a wasted occasion." Elsa let out an exaggerated sigh as she shook her head in an attitude of false resignation.

Emma raised an eyebrow as she snorted, surprised by that unusual sarcastic side of Elsa. Even so, her attempts were not enough to divert attention. "What I hope is not a wasted occasion is this getaway. For any of us."

"I hope not, really. I have the feeling that we are about to enjoy some unforgettable experiences around here. We deserve this, you know. Right, Emma?"

Emma simply nodded as she offered her a smile of appreciation, her heart fluttering in her chest. They totally deserved it, not only she and Killian, but also Elsa and Liam. The most selfless and kind people she had known deserved to reach their piece of happiness and if this happened with them together, so much the better.

//

Elsa had ended up being right. They had only spent a few hours there but Emma and the others had managed to have a glorious time. The memory of their previous trip to Storybrooke crossed her mind several times throughout the day, since although the experiences had been quite different, the feeling of contentment had been the same on both occasions.

They had laughed until their stomachs ached while playing in the snow like little children. They had savored a delicious homemade meal in a small and cozy establishment located in the nearby town. She had even enjoyed playing a board game — Monopoly— for the first time in a long time. The fact that she had always been good with finances probably had something to do with the fact that she had managed to beat Liam, the expert businessman.

The only thing she had missed during the day had been the chance to spend more time with Killian. In fact, they had not had the slightest chance of having a moment of privacy even for a minute, so they had to settle for longing glances, accidental touches or promising smiles, something she should have already been used to but that now, given their current circumstances, was no longer enough.

Still, she hoped to solve this little problem soon, if all went well with the plan she had begun to forge. She just needed to find the best occasion to carry it out.

That opportunity would soon arrive, to her delight.

After the last Monopoly game, Anna and Kristoff had retired to their bedroom, alluding that they were tired, although Emma suspected that their early departure was nothing more than an excuse. Either way, she wasn't going to complain, especially since it would make her plan much easier to carry out.

The others, Emma included, decided to watch a movie since none of them seemed in a hurry to go to sleep. Emma strategically placed herself on the largest couch, the one that would be turned into a bed, dragging Killian to her side, so the other two had no choice but to settle on the other perpendicular sofa.

Before they started watching the movie though, Elsa decided it would be a good idea if they made popcorn, so Liam quickly offered to help her. It was as if the stars had lined up in Emma's favor, because this unexpected moment of solitude would allow her to inform Killian of her crazy plan.

"Are you ready to fall asleep in a few minutes?" Emma muttered as she cast a sidelong glance in the direction of the kitchen area to make sure the other two weren't listening.

"We haven't even started watching the movie, Swan. I hope we stay awake for at least the first hour." He smirked at her and then placed an arm on her shoulders and pulled her close.

"I'm not talking about really falling asleep, but pretending to fall asleep. We already have experience in that. Sort of."

Killian's eyes narrowed in confusion and then widened, as if he had realized the implications of his plan, his lips drawing a naughty smirk. "Are you planning to sleep with me here, in the middle of the living room? That would be scandalous, Swan."

"You're an idiot." She patted him on the chest, earning a silent chuckle on his part. 

She tried to convince herself that it wasn't a big deal, but still, she couldn't help a blush crawling up from her neck to her cheeks. Maybe her original idea was to force Liam and Elsa to share a bed although that would also imply that they would have to do the same. Emma was no longer sure which of these prospects she was most interested in. "You just need to go along with me. We'll pretend to be asleep until those two have no choice but to go to the bedroom and hopefully share a bed," Emma explained between whispers.

After her previous conversation with Elsa, Emma had found her friend quite receptive to the idea of being in a relationship, although she hadn't made any direct reference to Liam. Still, it didn’t hurt if they were given a little push to send them in the right direction.

"I just hope they don't decide to wake us up this time." Although Killian maintained a neutral expression, his tone implied that this possibility didn't excite him at all. Well, at least they were on the same page. "It's unlikely, though, given our tendency." He winked as he bumped her shoulder with his.

Her retort died before leaving her mouth as Liam and Elsa made their appearance again at that moment, holding two bowls of popcorn. So she did the only thing she could do at the moment, she settled back on the sofa, waiting for the best opportunity to carry out her plan.

They did watch the movie, at least during the first half-hour. When Emma cast a sidelong glance at the occupants of the other couch, she couldn't help smiling. They kept their eyes fixed on the television screen but Liam was circling Elsa's shoulders with his arm while her hand rested on his thigh at knee level. They seemed totally at ease with each other. Perfect.

The show was about to begin.

She leaned slightly toward Killian, who, in response, raised his arm and placed it on her shoulders, drawing her to him. After a few seconds of adjusting to the new position, she rested her head against his chest and pressed his thigh discreetly. She cast one last glance in the direction of Elsa and Liam to make sure they weren't paying attention, and then she closed her eyes, starting her stellar performance.

She didn't have to make many efforts to pretend to be asleep, really. The atmosphere that surrounded her certainly invited her to sleep, with the room dimly lit, the warmth emanating from the fireplace, and the rhythmic beat of Killian's heart against her ear acting as a lullaby. Emma felt a kind of drowsiness taking hold of her, making it increasingly difficult to stay awake. Just when she was about to succumb to sleep, she heard the first whispers.

"Liam! Look at these two. They've fallen asleep. Again."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Do you think we should wake them up?"

Emma held her breath trying to remain still as she prayed that her slow breathing would be convincing enough.

"Hell no. Let them sleep." Emma suppressed a sigh of relief when she heard Liam's reply. They remained silent for a moment although Emma detected some noises, as if they were moving and then heard another more concrete sound, a camera shutter followed by a giggle from Elsa.

"Shhhh, lass, we don't want them to wake up, do we?"

"I wonder how many photos we have of them in that position." After a brief pause, Elsa continued in an even lower tone, so Emma had to make an extra effort to capture her words. "At least this time they haven't needed any set up from us."

"I'm starting to doubt our abilities as matchmakers, love. Nothing seems to work with these two."

Emma's body tensed involuntarily at Liam's words. What the hell were they talking about?

"What will we have to do next? Lock them in a room together?"

"It's not a bad plan, lass. In fact, this house has a pantry that could work. At least they would have food and liquids to survive until they finally decide to confess their feelings to one another."

They know. 

Emma was surprised to realize that Liam was also aware. Not only that, but they had been working behind their backs to push them together.

Her heart began to beat frantically in her chest as a feeling of unease settled inside her, making it difficult to keep pretending she was asleep.

Although they continued to speak in soft whispers, Emma was no longer sure she wanted to keep listening. She noticed how Killian's body had also stiffened, but given their current situation, she couldn't check his reaction to Liam and Elsa's unexpected dialogue.

"It's a bit frustrating, to be honest," Elsa muttered. "They are so in love but they are so afraid that sometimes I feel like shaking them to make them react."

"Aye. Killian ... I've never seen him so in love, not even with Milah. Sometimes I wonder how I could have been so blind these past four years when the signs were so obvious."

Killian loves me.

Killian loved her.

For some reason, the realization of that fact, far from making her burst with happiness, caused the feeling of unease to increase, making her feel overwhelmed and having difficulty staying still when her whole body screamed to jump away from him.

"Emma is an expert in masking her feelings. But I think she is reaching her limit, really. I have a feeling that this getaway will bring us more than one pleasant surprise."

"Aye. For starters, everything seems to indicate that the two of us are going to end the year sleeping together. I mean, in the same bed. Well... I can always sleep on the floor, or stay here on this sofa..."

"Oh, shut up, Liam. We'll share a bed. It's not a big deal."

"As you wish."

In other circumstances, Emma would have felt happy after that little exchange. On this occasion, however, she couldn't wait for them to get out of there.

"Speaking of which, why don't we go to sleep too? I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Just give me a couple of minutes to make sure to extinguish the fire in the fireplace."

Emma kept her muscles tense while listening to several muffled noises, which she supposed came from Elsa and Liam making sure that everything was fine before going to sleep. After what seemed like hours, she felt a warm and fluffy fabric sliding over them. Liam, or more likely Elsa, had placed a blanket over them to make sure they kept warm after the fireplace went out.

The long-awaited silence fell on them a few seconds later. Emma remained motionless though, ignoring the pull of her body until she was sure that they weren't going to be discovered. After mentally counting to ten, she couldn't resist it anymore, literally jumping off the couch.

She was freaking out. Deep down she was aware of it but seemed unable to stop the escalation of feelings that had taken hold of her. She began pacing up and down, feeling like a caged animal.

She suspected —no, she knew, she corrected herself —that Killian had feelings for her. She had stopped having doubts about that after sharing their first (second) kiss. But love was a meaningful word. She hadn't expected to hear that word so soon, even though her feelings were mutual. She hadn't expected to hear about it in such an unusual and impersonal way either.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

Emma chose to ignore Killian and focused instead on trying to control the contradictory thoughts that clustered in her head and to pull herself together. She wasn't even able to put into words everything that was going through her mind at the time, which only increased her sense of frustration. Still, she forced herself to take a deep breath to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

He loved her... How on earth would she be able to deal with that confession when she hadn't yet assumed the implications of their first kiss?

The other revelation wasn't easy to accept either. All these previous weeks, all those unexpected plans had been nothing more than the set-up attempts by her two friends. Emma felt as if, somehow, the escalation of feelings towards Killian had been forced instead of flowing naturally.

"Emma..."

This is a mess ... she thought, unable to face Killian right now while avoiding his gaze at all costs.

"Emma, look at me." She was so absorbed by her turbulent thoughts that she hadn't realized he had risen from the couch and was right in front of her. "What's going through that head of yours?"

His voice didn't denote annoyance, rather concern and a hint of curiosity. In other circumstances, she would have admired his composure, but this time she wanted to be mad at him. They were both involved, why did she feel like boiling inside when he remained perfectly calm?

"You heard them, right? This is... this is too much." She waved her hand as if encompassing the space between them. She was scared of what she would find when she looked into his eyes but showing off an unusual display of courage, she finally looked up, searching for his gaze, finding a stormy expression, and a special glow in his eyes.

"I've listened to them and honestly, I wasn't surprised by any of their revelations. I wonder why it has affected you so much. Isn't everything they have said true?"

"That's exactly the reason, Killian!" she hissed, looking away again as she felt like a wave of frustration washed over her, seeing herself unable to explain how she felt. Killian, always so perceptive, reached out tentatively and began rubbing her arms gently, as if trying to calm her down.

"Emma, love, you need to calm down."

Although reluctant, she did what she was told while taking a shuddering breath in a new attempt to pull herself together. His reassuring gesture worked as she noticed how her tension level gradually decreased. Only when he made sure she had calmed down enough did he nod in her direction, encouraging her to express her feelings.

Before speaking, she shook her head feeling ridiculous about her overreaction, while noticing how her cheeks blushed in embarrassment. Even so, after letting out a heavy sigh, she finally decided to explain herself.

"I know it's ridiculous, but I feel like with their stupid setups they've forced us into our current situation, instead of the feelings between you and me developing naturally." She knew that her speech made no sense, but still she felt the need to expel those thoughts away.

Killian opened his mouth as if he wanted to reply, but she lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips gently as she gave him an imploring look to let her continue. "Besides, I feel robbed. First, with our first kiss that we barely have a memory of and now with that revelation. Such confessions should be one of the milestones to reach in a couple. The first kiss, the first I..." Her voice trailed off, as she looked away again, feeling unable to express those three words out loud. Not yet.

"Emma..." The way Killian pronounced her name, in an almost reverent manner, caused a chill to run down her spine. He then touched her chin and pressed gently, forcing her to lift her head and look him in the eye. A feeling of vertigo seized her when their gazes met again. There was pure honesty in the blue depth of his eyes, along with something like devotion and, above all, love. 

"I love you, Emma Swan. I've loved you for a while, actually. My confession may be hasty, but at least it serves, I hope it serves to reach one of our milestones as a couple. Because, believe me, love, I intend to reach each and every one of them. Together."

He loved her.

She gasped, unable to react, her breath caught in her throat as he continued speaking. "As for my brother and Elsa's alliance, these unexpected plans may have gotten my feelings towards you to increase, but they are real. So real and intense that sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but in a good way."

She loved him.

She loved him for many reasons, including his way of acting towards her and his ability to always find the right words to reassure her.

"Besides," he continued in a lighter tone, "haven't we been doing the same with them? Acting as matchmakers? In fact, we're in this situation right now because of your idea to try to push them together, Swan."

He was right, again. Still, she had the feeling that the other two had taken it more seriously than them. At least the other pair had developed a much more detailed action plan than their poor attempts.

"We're idiots," she groaned as she covered her face with her hands. Now wasn't the time to feel embarrassed, she told herself, but to assess their actions and learn from them, as any normal adult would do, right? She dropped her arms, looking back at Killian. "But at least it worked, didn't it? I mean, look at the two of us, finally having this conversation, while they are sleeping together. Thanks to me." She raised an eyebrow while she grinned at him. Okay, maybe acting like an adult wasn't her forte after all.

"Okay, I'll give you that, but you must admit that you were wrong when you said they were dating in secret."

"Semantics."

Killian chuckled, the sound causing her stomach to flutter. She was hopeless in regard to this man. That reminded her that she still had more confessions to make. Still, she was grateful for that brief pause that had served both to lighten the tension and to reassure her in some way, since at least so far in their new relationship, the banter and the teasing between them remained intact.

"I'm terrified," she blurted out, without giving herself time to have second thoughts. Perhaps if she dared to express her concerns aloud she would be able to see them from another perspective that would allow her not only to face her fears but to overcome them. "What if this doesn't work between us? What if we, I don't know, we don't work in bed? What if there's no spark?" She hated the vulnerability of her voice a little, but he deserved honesty. "You're my best friend, I can't... I can't lose you."

The corners of his lips rose drawing a reassuring smile. "I know how you kiss, Swan, and if that is indicative enough, we shouldn't worry about that other regard, believe me." He accompanied his words with a suggestive move of his eyebrows causing her cheeks to start burning. Then his expression changed to a more solemn one. "I'm not going anywhere, Emma. If you want us to remain friends, I'm going to accept it, but that won't change my feelings for you."

Just when she was about to reply, his eyes widened as if he had remembered something while he pressed his fingers to her lips. "Also, I'm so glad I found you, I'm not gonna lose you. Whatever it takes, I will stay here with you."

"Did you just use the lyrics of a song in this conversation, Jones?"

His lips curled into a bright smile as he shrugged. "I have a feeling that nothing's gonna stop us now ."

She huffed while shaking her head in disbelief. She should be used to it, after all. It was one of the consequences of falling in love with a musician, that music was always present in one way or another.

She was in love with him. And he deserved to know it.

"I love you," she suddenly confessed, without giving herself time to think. The way in which his face lit up as his gaze intensified was enough reward for her. After such a long time of suppressing them, those words sounded a bit strange when said out loud, so she forced herself to pronounce them again to get used to saying them. "I love you, Killian," she repeated, in a much more convincing voice. 

"Good," he muttered and then pressed his lips against hers. It was a delicate kiss where Emma could feel all his affection and devotion towards her, the softness of his lips on hers causing all her worries to melt away while her heart finally broke free of its protective barrier.

They kissed languidly for a few seconds until their kisses became more passionate, as if they couldn't get enough of each other. She was so consumed with desire that she barely noticed that they were moving until Killian's calves hit the couch and he dropped on it, dragging her along.

She straddled his lap, her mouth never leaving his, while she felt an overwhelming wave of lust invading all her senses. It was as if, after so much time of repressed feelings and emotions, those very feelings had finally found their freedom. Such was their intensity that she found herself unable to restrain them. Not that she put too much effort into that restraint, honestly. Not when she felt so fucking good in Killian's arms as she was devoured by his demanding mouth and his hands began the first tentative exploration of her body, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

The delicious friction of his prominent arousal against her core was driving her crazy. When his fingertips tentatively brushed the curve of her breasts for the first time, she thought that she could combust at that very moment. She moaned against his mouth as she moved her hips with a clear purpose.

She could have continued just like that for hours, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his lips on hers, while she felt her skin burn under his touch. But Killian decided to break the kiss, parting a little from her and looking for her gaze.

He looked wrecked, the blue of his eyes almost gone, his hair completely disheveled, his lips swollen. A wave of pride seized her at the realization that she was the cause of his current condition. Just when he was about to say something, she deliberately moved her hips again, earning a loud groan from him.

"Emma, love. We... We need to stop," he finally managed to say in a raspy voice. "We're in the middle of the living room."

He was right, of course he was. She was internally grateful that he had had some lucidity because in her case, she had difficulty forming coherent thoughts. After such a long time of repressed feelings, now they ran wild causing her blood to boil and her mind to cloud. Letting out a huff of annoyance, she buried her head in his chest, reluctant to get away from him.

"I'm totally claiming the other bed for tomorrow," he grunted, earning a giggle on her part.

"Well, we can always turn the sofa into a bed and cover ourselves with the sheets. At least we'll have some privacy," she suggested, looking up as she raised an eyebrow suggestively. She did not want to miss the opportunity for intimacy with Killian now that there was nothing that stood in their way.

"Are you thinking of having your way with your best friend, eh Swan? Without even taking me on a date?" he joked, an expression of feigned disbelief on his face.

"Well, we have actually had plenty of dates, if we consider all those crazy plans of your brother and Elsa."

"If you put it that way..."

The light conversation had managed to cool her impulses somewhat, yet the desire for him remained latent, waiting for the best occasion. When they got up from the couch, Emma couldn't help directing her gaze at his crotch, finding a more than obvious tent in his pajama pants. She licked her lips and then let out a quiet sigh trying to redirect both her thoughts and her gaze to something less tempting, such as helping Killian turn the sofa into what would be their bed for the night.

Once the bed was ready, Killian turned off the light of the only lamp that remained lit and then they got into bed together, covering themselves with the sheets. Both instinctively turned towards each other, finding themselves in the middle of the mattress and entangling their limbs.

An idea crossed her mind at that moment, something she had completely forgotten after that first shock a few minutes ago. "So Liam knew about your feelings?" Emma asked in a soft voice, gently stroking his cheek while trying to glimpse his features despite the darkness that surrounded them.

"Aye," he admitted, then placed a soft kiss on her lips. "He has known for a couple of months. Do you remember the weekend we had free?"

"I also confessed to Elsa that weekend," Emma said slowly, as the memory of that night came to her mind, causing her cheeks to blush. She was grateful now that Killian couldn't observe her features in detail due to the darkness.

"What the hell happened that weekend?"

Emma was tempted for a moment to respond evasively using any excuse, but in the end, she decided to be honest with him and confess how she had felt. She didn't want to hide that information, especially because she had the suspicion that that night had been the beginning of what would lead them to their current situation.

"I... I might have been a little jealous," she muttered and bit her lower lip while waiting for his reaction.

"Jealous? Of whom?" Even in the dark, Emma could observe how his eyes widened when he caught the meaning. "Of Belle?"

"I know, I know. It wasn't just Belle, but... you could have chosen any other girl from the bar." She tried to explain herself but was interrupted when Killian captured her lips with his in a demanding kiss, one with the ability to make her head spin.

Killian broke the kiss a few seconds later, resting his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. "I have another confession to make," he muttered, his warm breath caressing her lips. "I was also jealous, Swan. I thought your strange behavior was because I was interfering in some way, in your search for a one-night stand."

"Really?" His answer caught her off guard. "God, we're two idiots," she muttered while hiding her head in his chest. He circled her with his arms, pulling her to him and causing their bodies to press together.

She loved him.

She wanted him.

She wanted him so badly that, for once, she decided to act on impulse, without fear of consequences, determined to just feel.

Killian slipped a hand under her tank top and began to trace delicate patterns on the skin of her back, while she did the same on his chest.

"You were stunning in that dress that night, Swan. Bloody hot, pure temptation," he purred, his velvety voice sending liquid heat directly to her core. "And then you had the audacity to wear it again to dinner at that restaurant. It was torture."

"Maybe I did it on purpose," she admitted, causing him to utter a guttural sound as his hand slid dangerously toward her lower back until he reached his target, giving her a light squeeze on her ass and pushing her further against him.

T wo could play this game , she thought as her fingers began to trace a path following the line of hair on his torso, descending slowly and tortuously. "I wonder if you needed to do something about it, take the matter into your own hands. You know what I mean." Her hand ended its descending path while she emitted the last words, palming his length over his pants with a clear purpose.

"Bloody hell, woman." He flinched at her touch as he let out a heavy breath. Far from being intimidated, she continued her exploration, internally thanking him for wearing pajama pants, allowing her better access. She did not hesitate to slide her hand under his clothes and then she wrapped her fingers around his length, exerting a tentative movement at first, but gaining security with the soft sounds that came from him. "Emma, love, we shouldn't... someone can appear at any time."

"Let me give you at least this, please."

"We're definitely claiming the other bed tomorrow," he growled before searching for her lips and starting to kiss her thoroughly. Emma took that as an invitation so she continued with her movements, the mere sensation of him pulsing and powerful under her touch sending electric shocks of pleasure up her spine and down to her toes. It was a beginning, something promising and exciting, a glimpse of what was to come.

Maybe the road to get here had been long, but looking back, she wouldn't change anything they had experienced in recent years. Especially when the path they took meant they would end up in this situation, finally giving rein to their passions in an idyllic place with her favorite person by her side.

"Emma," Killian pronounced her name with a mixture of devotion and plea.

"Yes?"

"Don't stop, please."

"Never," she muttered against his lips.

And we can build this thing together Standing strong forever Nothing's gonna stop us now

 Killian was definitely right when he used the lyrics of a song to describe their relationship.

//

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

We're reaching the end, just one more chapter to go, plus the epilogue. It's time to celebrate the new year, and as long as they're together nothing else matters.

[iliketodrawstuffilike]

**Brisksa**

-the cool Cat/Rat Girl who’s friends with Edge!

Brisksa is a cat/rat girl who meets Edge on her first day of school. She loves to be chill and at the same time, try to enjoy life as much as she can. She enjoys rock. She has an interesting family, because she’s has three parents. She lives with her cat dad and mouse mom, but does not want to live with her rich white rat dad. Even though she has 30% each of her three parents gens(she’s seems to have her rat dad’s fur), she mostly wants nothing to do with her rat dad, despite his attempts at winning her over.

Here’s more info, so that you guys understand her more from a non-canon interview about her relationships of the other characters and ocs! (Also this takes place after three weeks of Edge and Cheery arriving at the school)

Relationships

Edge - “She’s cool. When I became friends with her, she kind seemed to be nervous as she was talking to me at first, but over time she got comfortable talking with others normally. She does not act like “the gloomy goth girl” that everyone say she is when she first arrived at our school. She’s a girl that seems to be focused on... something, much so that she will be caught off guard, like when people, like Bendirina, are hugging her. However, she does have a strange way of testing people relationships with her, though. Like two weeks ago, while walking back home in the afternoon, in which our conversation almost became a argument about... basically nothing, really. Then, Andreas asked me if I really liked her or not, and when I said I don’t like other girls or even boys that way, I surprised that she was cool with my answer. She said that everyone always try to be her friend, but only did it to well date her or want her to be like them without her consent. I’m happy that she told me, because now we’re besties! Strangely on that day, it was raining, like after I told her I’m asexual n’ stuff, which was weird because it was supposed to be clear all day when it happened… Oh well!”

Cheery - “She’s...fine…? She obviously wants Andreas to be more than a friend to her, but I feel like that she is too clingy with Andreas and I think that she thinks I want to date her as well. That part is not true. We’re just friends and that’s it. Besides, she can be.....unnerving sometimes. Then again, she is the De Villan family’s kid and probably . I can’t believe it has been a few weeks since both her and Andreas came to our school. Like, she somehow intimidated Bevelenńe on her 3rd day of school, including the other rich girls! I don’t know how but she did it!”

Cupoline - “She’s seems ok to me. She is, well, nice to people and seems to enjoy being Edge’s friend I guess. I noticed that she kind of feels… well… threatened when ever certain people confront her. Kind of like she is hiding something that she does not want others to see...? I don’t know. That’s just the vibe I get from her when I see that s**t happening to her. Thankfully, Edge and I will gladly protect her if she’s ok with that! Still, I think that she might be not as pure as everyone assume she is. It’s only a hutch, though.”

Cup - “She has been an alright girl as long I have known her. We have never been friends before, but I knew her since 5th grade. So, over the years, I mostly know what she likes and dislikes. And, I understand why she is like that. I can only describe her as a rough and tough girl who works very hard to support mostly her family. A few months ago, when she came to class, I noticed that she had a bantage on her hand. I wondered what had happened to her. Then, three months later, I learned that Cup is Bendirina’s “new best friend” after a week. I don’t know how that happened, but I just hope that Cup is alright with it. I mean, I think she might be scared of her.”

C.C. - “l might not seem to... not like her... or her attitude towards me, but I understand why she acts like that at times. She had literally had no friends last year since the Crap Lilies kick her out of the club at the start of last year. I can tell that having no one to hangout, talk to, or even share interests with made her...well, sad. Everyone including me tried to be friends with C.C., but she’s keeping saying, with a obviously fake smile, “No worries! I’m sugerly fine!”. I know that is a load of taco covered pellets! Thankfully, after Christmas last year, she became her own person and decided to ignore what her old group says about her, even without friends. Now I’m glad that she made friends with the new girl, Bendirina. Despite how she… unnaturally weird she is, at least Rina(that’s what only Cup calls her as far as I heard…) kind of a good heart underneath.”

Micáh & Rorin - “How does no one in the insane gymnastics of this school know that these guys are obviously dating? They even stated once that they like “certain partners” and no one took the hint??? They have been friends before middle school, as far as I know, and yet the popular and rich girls still want date Micáh, despite having a real boyfriend. Are the people in this school that blind!?? (Sigh...) Anyways, Micáh is a very soft and kind guy, since he does have like a lot of sisters back home, and he does not know yet, but I do know about Rorin’s “secret”. And, I know because we were both in the same grade school and he should not keep it bottled up like that! People are gunna know some time, dude! God. I hope the jerks in football never learn about the secret or they are going to know true hell …”

Heveene - “I kind of know who she was last year. She is one of the Goelden sisters that the people are, as far as I know, making fun of them secretly and saying that they are the “bullies”. I KNOW that can’t be true because I was... um... friends with one of them! Y-yeah… I know it has to be because of that nerd group’s leader is behind it all! (If I could, would love to get her a piece of my mind…and my neck technique…!) Anyways... Heveene came to the in 9th grade early after the year started, since I think was she and one of her older sisters are the youngest of the seven. She’s basically cool in my book’s, since she seems to be liked by everyone she encounters.”

———

Finally done posting this! 😭😆✨

It was meant to be posted last year, but a lot of things got in the way…😓 Thankfully, I was now able post it, despite my current situation right now. Hopefully I can finish the other post, so can finally be able to finish the comics before the end of October!🥰✨✍️

Enjoy <;3

[lu-undy]

Chapter 58 - SBT

Here it is!

"You're alright?" 

Lucien kept staring at Mundy even after they broke the kiss.

"Oui. Let us go and see Richard." 

"Alright." 

A moment later, Lucien pushed the door and entered the tailor's shop. 

"Ah! Bonjour, L!"

[Ah! Hello L!]

"Richard, you remember my dear friend M?" 

"Of course, how do you do?"

Hands were shaken in the quiet shop. 

"What brings you here?" The tailor asked. 

"Business I'm afraid. May we have a look at your collection?" Lucien asked. 

"Oh, what about your friend?" 

"Treat him as you would me." Lucien answered and Richard nodded. 

"Then, please follow me. Paul, tu t'occupes de fermer s'il te plaît?" Richard asked his son.

[Paul can you close the shop, please?]

Mundy was clueless as to what was happening or being discussed. All he knew was that Richard walked to a shelf, pulled something down and -

"Crikey…" 

The wall slid open. 

"Come along, M." Lucien said and the three men entered the secret corridor. 

Mundy kept his thoughts to himself out of politeness as he followed Lucien and Richard to a room full of weapons. They were hung on the walls elegantly or put in display cases. 

"M, have a look and tell me what you will need. I shall have a chat with Richard." 

"Oh, uh, alright…" 

Mundy easily located the rifles and went to observe them while Richard and Lucien had a chat in French at the opposite corner of the room. 

That tailor was something else! He had very fine and modern models. Unlike Eddy's which were hunting ones, Richard's rifles were clearly of military grade. Their style was clear. Mundy inspected the different scopes, the reloading mechanisms, the handles… He spent a few minutes dissecting those rifles with his eyes. 

"So, does anything interest you, M?" Richard asked. 

"Not really… I mean this is very modern, eh?"

"Indeed, we try to keep our merchandise up to date." He walked to the Aussie. 

"Yeah, I've never seen anythin' like those guns, even back in service… Nah, thanks a lot mate, but I'm too used to my old gun to change now." 

"What type of rifle is it?" 

The conversation went on for a few minutes while Lucien grabbed a revolver, a suppressor, bullets and everything he needed for the day's job. He finished with a balaclava as Mundy and Richard finished their chat. 

"Are we ready, Mundy?" 

"Yeah, I don't need anythin' from here, but that's very impressive stuff you have, Richard."

"Thank you." The tailor nodded. "Anything else for you, L?" 

"Non, I have everything, merci. We shall take our leave, I'm afraid time is playing against us." 

"Of course." Richard answered and the three men exited the gun shop to come back to the tailor's. 

"Thank you for everything, Richard." Lucien extended his hand. 

"My pleasure." Richard shook it firmly. "It is an immense honour for me to have the privilege to help the great L, really." 

"Thank you." 

"And good luck to you both." Richard shook hands with Mundy who nodded and both him and Lucien exited the shop. 

"Do we need to do anything else?" Mundy asked. 

"Unless you need to do something now, non. Let us proceed." 

"Alright, to the old sugar factory then." 

"Oui." 

Mundy started the van and drove off. It swallowed mile after mile as they exited the limits of the city through the old industrial area. Once they were out, the desert spread for as far as the eye could see.

Lucien leaned back on his seat after slipping his black balaclava on. He took his cigarette case out and flipped it open next to Mundy, who took one. 

"Thanks, luv'." 

"My pleasure." 

Lucien then lit both their cigarettes.

"Richard called you 'the great L', eh?"

"My reputation precedes me, I'm afraid." Lucien smirked. 

"Yeah… quite impressive." 

Lucien chuckled and puffed on his cigarette. 

"So what's the plan exactly?" The Aussie asked. 

The Frenchman took the file with the photographs that he had left in the glove box again and opened it. 

"We know what route Duchemin will take, so we have multiple options."

"Alright." 

"We get inside and pass as two regular mercenaries."

"We knock two out and get their uniforms, ok." Mundy answered. 

"Then, we go to one of these hangars that he will visit with his guests and we wait for him. Once he gets there, we take him away and hide him somewhere, where we will deal with him." 

"Wow, wait, hold on, what about the blokes that he'll show around? And where are we supposed to take him? The place is in the middle of the desert!" 

"We will strike before he is accompanied by his guests. It is still too early in the afternoon for them to be there and I would imagine Duchemin will want to rehearse his little show on his own first, to memorise the route. We will only have to ambush him in one of the hangars. As to where we will take him, look at this picture…" 

Lucien handed a photograph to Mundy. 

"Yeah, it's one of the hangars I guess, what about it?" 

"It doesn't have any thermal signature on it."

"Yeah, and?" 

"It is not the only one. Look here and here too! Non, Duchemin is not using all of the hangars, which means that we can take him to one of the empty ones."

"What?! You want us to torture him there?! In the middle of the bloody complex?! They'll find us out in minutes!"

"Non, Mundy, not if we give them something more… urgent to chase." 

"Like what?" 

"Mundy this is a clandestine animal reserve, what does it contain?" 

"Animals?" 

"Exactly! And dangerous ones! Say if one of them escaped, what would happen, hm…?"

"Bloody hell, you're a genius!" Mundy exclaimed and Lucien smiled. 

"I do have my moments." He proudly answered. 

"Alright so, we get in there, knock two blokes off, take their uniforms, then we free some beasts up, that will set the goons on a chase. Meanwhile, we catch Duchemin, get him in an empty hangar and kill him. Did I get it right?" 

"Oui, I think that is the plan. But now, you have to think, Mundy." 

"About what?"

"What species would take them the longest to catch?" 

"I wouldn't go for just one." The expert hunter explained. "Whatever the beast you'll put, it'll be outnumbered by the guards and they'll end up catching it or killing it. Nah, I'd go for a few, let them spread and fight." 

"Hm-mh, interesting. Which ones then?" 

"Big cats."

"Which ones in particular?" 

"All of them if we can. They're big, scary and they'll keep them busy for a while."

"Très bien."

[Very well.]

"Now the thing is how on Earth are we gonna break them free?" 

"And not getting eaten ourselves, you mean?" 

"Well yeah, that would help, wouldn't it?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"Indeed it would. Here, I got these from Richard." 

The Frenchman handed Mundy small spherical objects in his palm. 

"What's that?"

"Explosives." 

"What the hell?! You want me to blow up now?!" 

"Calm down, you won't." Lucien chuckled. "This is the remote." He showed a button on his jacket. 

"Are you serious?!"

"I am."

"That's proper spooky business right there… But what do I do with these things?" 

"When we get there and are in uniforms, we will split up. You will go to the hangar with the felines and place those little explosives on the locks of the cages. Meanwhile, I will make sure that the empty hangar is indeed empty." 

"Ok, alright, then we meet somewhere and wait for him?" Mundy asked. 

"Indeed, we do. When the moment is right, I will detonate the explosives, which are small enough to just blow the locks up. The animals flee and in the panic, we get Duchemin 'to safety'." 

"Gosh that's brilliant…" 

Lucien smiled. 

"And you thought about all of that just now?!"

"More or less, oui." 

"Bugger… If we weren't busy right now I'd bloody kiss ya." 

"You may still do it when we park." 

"Don't tempt me, luv'...!" 

They exchanged a laugh. 

"Good Lord, I'm off to kill a bloke and I'm laughin'." Mundy said.

"Quite absurd, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But nothing really makes sense in this life, eh?" 

"Exactement." 

[Exactly.]

They shared a loving and conniving glance. 

"Ah, how much I love you… You might never know or understand." Lucien said. 

"You're so weird." Mundy chuckled. "We're off to do what we've been wanting to do forever and you think now is the time to get all sappy and lovey?"

"Oui." 

"You're weird." 

"Weirdly under your charm, oui." 

"Pff…" Mundy chuckled. "Alright, look here, we've arrived." 

The van parked and both men slipped out of it. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" The Aussie adjusted his rifle on his back. 

Lucien removed one glove and put his naked hand on Mundy's cheek. The way he looked up at the Aussie seized Mundy powerfully. 

"I love you." 

"Love you too. D'you want me to-?"

"Please, oui. I need it, I need you." Lucien pleaded with his angel eyes.

Mundy took Lucien by his waist and pulled him closer. Their lips met in silence, under the scorching afternoon sun. 

"When we're done with all that, remind me to continue this where we left off, ok, love?" 

"I shall." 

This time Mundy dived down to Lucien's lips and pulled his waist closer against his. 

"Listen love, when this is all done, I'm takin' you and we're leaving, ok? We'll live a simple life in the desert. I'll teach you how to hunt and fish, and you can teach me French."

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. 

"Mon amour…"

[My love…]

"Ok?" Mundy insisted. 

"O-oui." 

"Right, let's do this." He put his lips on Lucien's forehead and left a silent kiss. 

"Oui." 

They headed for the complex and found the same entrance they had gone through the last time they had come, the fence that Lucien had cut through. Once they slipped in, it was a matter of seconds before they located two guards. 

Lucien readied his silenced tranquiliser gun and Mundy, his blowgun. They nodded to each other and when the guards passed behind the hangar, out of anyone else's view, Lucien and Mundy shot one each unconscious. 

After a minute, they wore the grey uniform and helmets. 

"Now, follow me, but you will have to do the talking." Lucien said. 

"Why?" 

"The accent." Lucien answered and Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"Ah, yeah, I forgot."

They resumed their walk, armed with the rifles provided by the guards, which bodies they hid in some bushes. 

"Pst, Lu', there he is…" Mundy was comically speaking from the corner of his mouth, with his teeth clenched. 

"You may speak normally, no one is within earshot and the walkie-talkies are off." 

"Oh, yeah, ok, I tried to be… spooky." 

Lucien smiled under his helmet. 

"Go and place the explosives, I will check on the empty hangar. We shall reconvene here in 10 minutes sharp." 

"Okay, you be careful, ok?" 

"You too." 

They parted ways. Mundy headed for the feline hangar. He entered without too many problems and pretended to patrol inside. On each cage he passed, he put a little explosive, right on the lock. He used them all, and there were more than two dozens. When he was done, he glanced at his watch and exited the hangar to reconvene with Lucien. 

But he got interrupted. 

"Hey!" One of the guards called him. 

"Yeah?" 

"What're you doin' in there?" 

"Patrol."

"Did you fix the light?" 

Mundy tried to hide his surprise. 

"Yeah, nah, I was just sent to get the reference for the light bulb, I'll report it and get someone down here to fix it." He answered. 

"Ah, alright, cheers mate." 

And Mundy turned on his heels, sighing in relief that he passed the test. A few moments later, he was meeting with Lucien again.  

"How did it go?" Lucien asked. 

"Stressful. Had to talk to a bloke. He asked me if I fixed a light in the big cats hangar."

"What did you say?"

"That I was just taking the reference for the bulb?" 

Lucien smiled. 

"Excellent job."

"What about you?" Mundy asked. 

"Hangar A3 is indeed free. It was locked with a padlock but I easily picked it. We should be able to use it whenever we need. I found a few things to help us too, a chair and some ropes."

"Aces. Now, to get the bloke…"

"Follow me." Lucien said and they walked to the front of the hangar. 

Not a minute later, the man himself appeared. Duchemin was impeccably dressed, with a blue three-piece suit and matching dark blue, varnished shoes. He was followed by a few people who were not in uniforms… 

"Oui! I need that to be ready! What am I paying you for?!" 

The little escort of men in suits apologised profusely and went back to wherever they came from, leaving Duchemin alone. 

"Follow me, Mundy." 

"Right." 

Lucien walked close behind Duchemin as he passed them. 

"So first, we go through hangar A1, that's the birds, oui, colours and noises, perfect as a grand opening, then we move on to C5 with the reptiles… Hey! Are the alligators in better shape than last time?" Duchemin stopped in front of the reptiles' hangar and asked a few guards. 

"The vets said they were a bit depressed cause they don't see much of the sun but they should be fine."

"Depressed?!" Duchemin repeated. "What kind of nonsense is that! They're stupid animals, for God's sake!" 

Mundy clenched his fist and gulped down hard, trying to keep his calm.

"Right, let me move on! I don't want to get angry before Rochefort and his friends arrive…" 

Duchemin moved along, Lucien and Mundy still on his heels, on the orange and dusty ground of the desert. 

"The projectors were installed, good…" Duchemin raised his head to the towers with projectors planted at regular distances between the hangars. "At least they didn't mess that up!" 

He went on and Mundy followed until he felt something bump him. He looked down at Lucien and the man under the helmet gave a very slight nod as his gloved fingers slid to the button of his jacket, through the uniform vest that he had opened.

He pressed it and it was a matter of seconds before the guards started yelling around hangar B10.

"What the hell is that racket?!" Duchemin yelled.

One guard came running but before he reached Duchemin, a few wild cats escaped through the door of the hangar, bringing down the guards. Duchemin gasped and started yelling left and right, as more guards poured out to help their colleagues.

"Don't kill them! They are priceless! Put them to sleep! They are worth a fortune! Why does everything have to go wrong now?!" He roared angrily. 

"We gotta take you to safety, let's go." Mundy said, and both him and Lucien escorted Duchemin to the empty hangar. 

"Why are you taking me here? There is nothing in this hangar!" 

As Lucien faked to unlock the padlock on the door, he raised his eyes to Mundy who seemed at a loss as to what to answer. 

"Uh… Well exactly that's the point! We stay in there with you and lock ourselves up until the situation's under control. C'mon, get inside!" 

And in a second, the three men slipped in and Lucien locked themselves up inside the wide abandoned storage area. 

"Mon Dieu, that was close…!" The criminal said. "Argh, I don't even have a phone line installed here to call reinforcements!" 

Lucien had gone further away and came back with an old chair. 

"Y-yeah, take a seat, it could be quite long. We don't know how many more beasts escaped." Mundy said and Duchemin obliged. 

"This chair is the most uncomfortable thing ever…!" The rich rascal said. 

"And it is your last." Lucien answered while removing his helmet, he shook his head left and right. Duchemin's eyes snapped wide and he was about to shout for help but too late, Mundy had a kukri against his throat from behind. Lucien undid his tie  and quickly used it as a gag on Duchemin's mouth.

"Now, let us have a chat, shall we?" 

[franeridart]

Anon said: Hi, i’m not trying to be a jerk, but i notice that you tend to write strengHT instead of strengTH. I thought i should point that out so in the future you can avoid these mistakes and your great art can be even better

I’ll try my best to remember that this time around, but to be fair I couldn’t manage it twelve years ago when I was being graded for my english spelling, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget about which way is right in two seconds flat now that there’s no good reason why I should be careful about what I write :D as an italian person, it just makes no sense in my brain that the h wouldn’t go after the g. That just how it be.

Anon said: You made me fall in love with your art style. I just... asdpljzdfsz. I dunno. I look so forward every time I see it. Reminds me that there's still brightness in this dark world. *cough corny I know* But please. Keep doing what you do. And thank you for sharing this with us.

Ah gosh anon thank you so so much!!!! That’s so sweet of you oh my god T^T<3

Anon said: Is that Vampire!Kiri and Werewolf!Bakugou or something similar??

dragon!Kiri+werewolf!Baku :D

Anon said: Quick question about Akane’s powers if that’s ok! Do her powers work on things that weren’t originally red? Like Kirishima’s hair, for example; things that have been dyed red but didn’t start out that way. Idk, this might be a super niche question, but I was wondering! Your Baku!Daughter is adorable though, I love her and him and all of your KiriBaku thank you so much for sharing your talent!!!

I’ve drawn her more than once messing up Kiri’s hair, so yes, she can move Kiri’s hair too! to be fair if her power only allowed her to move stuff that’s, like, naturally red? she wouldn’t be able to move much of anything at all lmao

Anon said: Sorry if i’m missing smthng but have you ever drawn Camie?

I have, like, once? In the middle of a bunch of Bakus I drew after that one chapter where he laughed and killed me, man I love Bakugou so much

Anon said: Did you ever think of the bakusquad as a poly relationship?

Yep! It’s valid but I’m not into that

Anon said: Saw your recent asks and don't be hard on yourself! Horikoshi's Bakugou is actually not that complex, but you have put him in... hundreds? of scenarios by now, and some are really moving and sweet. Yours feels like he's part of a universe rather than its center (regardless of what he believes :-P), which makes for very fun interactions!

Aw anon please don’t come in my inbox and say that my favorite character isn’t as deep as I think he is, I know you probably mean well but all you’re managing is making it very hard for me to refrain from writing the longest eassey on why Bakugou is the best character ever and why I feel like you’re missing 90% of his personality when you come at me and tell me the fact that I make him in love gives him more depth than all the endless amount of emotions and situations Horikoshi has put him through

I’m not being hard on myself!!! I just love him!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: Have you ever drawn Fatgum? I tried searching on your blog, but nothing came up, but that could be the *brilliance* of tumblr. If not, do you think you might, sometime? I am convinced he'd look so cute, in your style! What could be better than my fave artist drawing one of my fave characters? Anywho, whether you do or not, I still adore your art, and look forward to your posts. Take care, play safe, and stay MAGICAL! ✌💜

I have! Pretty sure he’s in my tagged/fatgum! And thank you!!

Anon said: when you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite accounts (non-negotiable, positivity is cool!!)🌻 Passing on the ask, ily!

Awww thank you! Five things five things five things.......................... I like my hair? I like myyyyyyyy hands! I like that I know how to fix things! I like that it’s easy for me to solve puzzles! I like that I managed to learn how to draw comics!!! Comics are great I should draw a new one

Anon said: I recently sent in a question (wasn’t a question just me fangirling) but omg I cannot stress how much your art brightens my day and inspires me to keep working on my own art so yeah (I’m sorry I feel like this is spam)

Absolutely not spam!!! thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (TT^TT)<3<3

[mercurymetals]

the lights we always see

Always here for the beloved beefy boi content. I chose to write this in a modern setting, because that's fun. Thanks for requesting and enjoying my stuff! Hope this is to your liking @meltic-daze.

Warnings: Appropriately, none, besides the fact we’ve made Jonathan a yandere.

"Jojo, this is ridiculous. I can't keep missing class like this."

Your friend - your supposed best friend - smiles at you like you're the one who's being ridiculous right now. "But I told you, I've already asked Chris to bring the notes over. It's not a problem!"

Chris is a classmate of yours. The two of you are on the same university course, and you had gotten along well since your very first meeting. Once you two had started to hang out regularly outside of class, it was only natural you introduced him to Jonathan. They seemed to get along fine in front of you, but you always had a suspicion they weren't fond of each other under the surface.

Things only got worse after the accident. While on your way out of class, you tripped on the stairs and ended up breaking your leg. Thankfully it wasn't a severe injury, and after a brief stay at the hospital, you were discharged home with the advice to rest for a week or two before returning to classes.

That was a month ago. You haven't been to class since, and it's not because you actively want to skip.

Something changed in Jonathan since that day, though you've been hesitant to admit you noticed, even to yourself. He'd always been especially caring towards you, but you know that's just in his nature. Jonathan is a good, charitable young man. And sure, he might treat you a little extra nicely, might constantly go out of his way to spend time with you, but isn't that normal between best friends?

The problem is, ever since you've broken your leg, Jonathan insisted you stay home. All day, every day. Each morning he comes over and stays with you, claiming he’s helping to look after you. At first you were thankful to have someone prepare your meals and do your chores when it was still difficult to stand, but you've recovered more than enough to do these things yourself by now.

And you are supposed to exercise your leg. When you brought that up before, Jonathan said walking around inside your apartment is more than enough (and he sticks by your side like a clingy puppy any time you try). He’s even skipped his own classes, just to stay home with you.

And that is ridiculous. You're not the one who’s in the wrong here. He is. You know that. You know it, but it's so difficult to admit a person you've been friends with for this long, a person you've trusted with everything for your whole life, is being...

No, not abusive. Just... protective. Overly so. That's what this is.

"It's been a month. I can't catch up on everything by myself," you try, hoping he'll see reason. "If this keeps up, I run a real risk of failing, Jojo."

You are currently standing in your kitchen, and Jonathan is glancing at you from by the stove, where he's making the two of you some lunch. He stirs something in the pan, and you try to ignore the pleasant aroma that fills the kitchen.

"I'll help you out!" Jonathan offers with an easy-going smile. "We can study together."

"We're doing different courses," you point out in exasperation.

"Sure, but I can still help," Jonathan claims with a shrug, switching the stove top off and reaching into one of your cupboards for some plates. "Besides, you've always been top of the class! You'll be fine. For now, you need to keep resting."

You have been top of the class. But something tells you taking that spot back after such a long break is going to be very difficult, if not flat out impossible.

"Look, at least let's have Chris stay with me today. Maybe if I go over the materials with him--" Your words are cut short when Jonathan slams the cupboard shut with enough force to make everything on the wall shake. You yourself are so surprised you almost slip on your crutches.

Jonathan is over by your side in an instant. "Oh no, are you okay?" he asks, and you wince as he reaches for you. But he is incredibly gentle as he holds you by the arm, and helps you into one of the stools by the counter.

Once you're safely seated, he sighs. "See? You're not ready to go anywhere yet. What would you have done if I hadn't been here?"

You probably wouldn't have slipped in the first place, but you don't say that.

Instead, you say: "Jojo... I am glad you're with me. But I mean it, I might seriously fail my course if I skip all my classes. What the hell am I gonna do then?"

Jonathan turns away from you, his attention back on the stove. "You'll be fine," he repeats, and you bite your lip in frustration. "And even if you do fail, you'll still be fine. I can look after you."

You know Jonathan comes from a rich family. You know if it really came down to it, he probably could afford to look after you and not even have to worry about getting a proper job himself. You know his words have a ring of truth to them.

But that doesn’t matter. I don't want anybody to look after me. I want to be independent! Of course, you don't say that either.

Jonathan starts putting the food on the plates. It's some kind of stir-fry, and your mouth waters a little at the scent. When he places your plate in front of you with that big goofy smile of his, you automatically find yourself returning it. You then watch silently as he takes off the apron he had been sporting (it's your own, so it was comically tight on him, though you've long since stopped finding it funny). He then sits by your side, and makes light conversation as the two of you start eating.

It's all so... domestic. Your attentive friend, cooking you a meal in your kitchen, and then you sharing it as you talk about careless things. Just the two of you, alone at your place together.

But your hands are stiff as you eat, and you can only bring yourself to hum non-committal acknowledgements as he talks. Just make it to the evening, and then Jonathan will go home. Sure, he'll be back first thing in the morning, but at least you'll have those precious few hours to yourself. And maybe you'll call Chris and let him know about your... concerns. It's not something you had wanted to do, but it seems like you've no other choice.

These thoughts are your one last little comfort as you force the food down in uncomfortable gulps.

* *

That evening, you and Jonathan are sitting on your couch watching one of your favourite Netflix shows, when there's a knock on the door. You spring to life, excited beyond belief to finally see your friend again - finally see someone other than Jonathan, really. You grab a hold of your crutches, but before you can properly get up, Jonathan stops you.

"Woah, there's no need for you to be getting up!" he says with a laugh. "I'll get it."

You stare at him. When it sinks in he's being serious, you splutter out: "But Jojo, that's my friend. And he's bringing me my notes! And besides--"

Jonathan's large hand feels heavy on your shoulder, and you fall silent at his touch. There's a flash of something in his eyes, something unfamiliar and dark and disconcerting, but it's gone before you can place what it is. "Really, it's okay," he says softly, and slowly reaches for your crutches.

You want to hold on tight and not let go, but you watch as he easily sweeps them in his grasp and your hands release them without a fight. He smiles again. "You just wait here."

Jonathan rests your crutches against the wall, out of your reach, and then walks to the door. You sit without moving a muscle, your eyes staring at the screen as the bright reflections flash across your face. You think you hear some kind of an argument go down, but you just block it out.

When Jonathan comes back, you hear him place some papers on the table, and then he sits down next to you.

"I'm not so sure about that friend of yours any more," he says uncertainly. You don't look at him, keeping your eyes on the TV, but you’re sure he's pulling that sad pouty face right now. "He's acting really strange... I think it might be best if I stay the night with you, just in case. For your own safety."

Jonathan is sitting closer to you than he was before. Your sides brush against each other any time either of you inhale. You shudder at that hint of a touch. It's not a shudder of pleasure.

He notices, and you feel his worried gaze on you. "Oh, are you cold? Hold on." He wraps his massive arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. You let it happen. Not like you'd be able to stop it even if you tried.

Still unsatisfied, Jonathan presses you even closer, so that your head is tucked in the crook of his neck. He rests his cheek against your hair, holding you as affectionately as though you were lovers. His body feels strong and warm and completely invulnerable.

But you should feel safe in his arms. You know he'd never hurt you, after all.

"Jojo," you whisper, your eyes still trained on the screen.

"Hmm?"

"Is this really okay?"

His hold on you tightens, his fingers digging into your arm with just a little too much force. You don’t say anything. You just wait.

"It's okay," he says, and you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll never let anything bad happen to you again. I promise."

You close your eyes. Maybe he's right. Maybe this really is okay. He would never hurt you. Jonathan would never hurt you. Jonathan has never hurt you. Jonathan has never done anything to hurt you.

...Has he?

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League Spectacular #1 (1992)

Just off-panel: Bibbo's ice cream truck.

I probably shouldn't be reading this or Justice League Quarterly before I read the Giffen/DeMatteis Justice League but what can I do? That's the order they were placed in the short box! It would be a different story if free will were not an illusion but since it is, my hands are tied. It's either read this or, um, I don't know. Die from a temporal paradox? I won't risk it! I was looking through a bunch of my old writing and art last week and discovered a bunch of the kind of sentimental and sort of intellectual crap young people write. It's the kind of stuff you hide away and never show anybody ever and hope that when you die, it'll just get tossed in a dumpster with your old porn and Magic the Gathering cards. But it got me thinking about how brave I am! So brave! The kind of brave you wouldn't hesitate to call some jerk who signed up for the military because he couldn't live as a civilian. No, no. More braver than that! And being this super brave kind of person, I thought that maybe I should share some of this old poetry with everybody! But not yet! You have to work up to being truly brave! So instead, I'll share this piece of artwork I did that was supposed to be the first in a lengthy and disgusting series. It's of Lord Fondlerot, a character I created for the Dwarflover online comic I used to do. He was really into fucking things and I thought, "Hey! I should do a series of drawings where he fucks every creature in the monster manual!" But instead of doing an entire series, I drew one picture and grew either bored or disgusted with the concept. So here's that one picture:

Lord Fondlerot fucking an Axebeak.

Now you're probably wondering just how terrible my poetry must be if I'm opening with that! Well, you'll see soon enough! This issue begins with Sue Dibny still alive and visiting a Florida theme park with her husband, The Elasticated Man. Wow, remember when Sue Dibny was killed and all the heroes freaked out about their secret identities and considered doing intense brain damage to every single person who ever knew any of their identities until they found out that The Atom's ex-wife Jean Loring had gone cuckoo for Atom's cocoa puffs? She wanted them back so bad that she began threatening and murdering the loved ones of all the super heroes. It was the kind of story DC sometimes does where you read it and think, "Well, the twist at the end of that mystery was definitely worth the destruction of the most stable marriage in the DC Universe and also the death of Firestorm and Captain Boomerang! So good!" I mean it doesn't make you think that. It makes you think the exact opposite. Tom King would eventually do pretty much the same thing in Heroes in Crisis but instead of Jean Loring fucking up by accidentally killing Sue Dibny and murdering more people to cover her tracks, Wally West fucks up and kills Poison Ivy and some others and then tries to cover his tracks. But at least Tom King's had all of those entertaining scenes where the heroes are doing therapy and we get to see how much they're all suffering from PTSD. That's always a fun aspect of super heroes we never get to read enough about. Dammit! I keep doing it. I meant it was the opposite of fun! Although I still liked it because sometimes I just like seeing other people in pain. Not in a sick perverse way where I pop a boner or something! Just in that way where you sit around all day thinking, "My life is terrible and everything is wrong and I hate my parents for bringing me into this wretched existence and the only thing that might make me feel better is to learn that Superman sometimes feels the same way." Oh, remember when Tom King was writing Batman and he had that two issue Booster Gold arc where we got to see how fucking insane Booster Gold was from living through all of those horrible, wretched, dark alternate timelines? And the only way he can deal with the trauma and the PTSD is by making a joke out of everything? I'll have to think of that as the canon Booster Gold when I'm reading Giffen and DeMatteis's Justice League. Maybe it'll make all of Booster and Beetle's inappropriate joking more appropriate. Back to the story, Sue Dibny, alive and well, and her husband Ralph "The Elasticated Man" Dibny are busy showing a bunch of European diplomats around the non-Disney World theme park.

See? You can tell they're European because they're all smart and shit.

The first stop in the park is to Alice's Wonderland where the diplomats are attacked by the Royal Flush Gang. They are a gang whose theme is playing cards and not expensive toilets. Their powers are the ability to ride on gigantic cards and to make poker puns.

If looking good in tight fitting costumes is also a power, it's my new answer to the question of which super power would I choose..

Ten's outfit reminds me of the days when nipples were allowed to show through tops without being erased away through some kind of editing software. The 70s were a wild decade! Sure, there were also nips on television in the 80s but the 80s, generally speaking, sucked and were a huge contribution to the downfall of America.

The King of Spades mansplaining their entire concept to the Queen of Spades.

It's true that the royal flush beats any other poker hand but I doubt Superman is going to surrender after this concept is explained to him because, in the end, they're not fucking playing poker. It turns out Maxwell Lord paid the Royal Flush Gang to make a little trouble so the Justice League could beat them up and get some media attention. But the Justice League has apparently broken up and The Elasticated Man just isn't hero enough to save the European delegates all by himself. He might have been if the Royal Flush Gang had done what they were told and not really fight back. But why would they do that?! Wouldn't they still be in trouble with federal agents?! Booster Gold finds Blue Beetle busy pouting in the old Justice League cave headquarters. Booster has decided to try to cheer his old buddy up although why wouldn't Booster just travel to a timeline where Ted Kord is already cheered up? Is that how time travel works in the DCU? Or did Booster already try that, it went horribly sideways, and now he's a little more fucked up in the head when he returns to the "real" timeline?

For some reason, Ice and Fire have also come down to the cave. Probably to accidentally go on a double date with Booster and Beetle. Booster and Fire and Beetle and Ice hear a news report about the Royal Flush Gang and decide to go save Ralph. Superman also hears about the situation and heads to Florida where he's almost immediately defeated by The Royal Flush Gang. Not because they're dangerous and competent super villains but because some mysterious benefactor has give them weapons capable of knocking out Superman's powers. Maxwell Lord is not that benefactor so who could have done it? Certainly not Guy Gardner, right?! What would he want with getting the Justice League back together. Isn't he busy being Warrior or something by this point? Power Girl, Metamorpho, and Guy Gardner all join in on the fight. The guy behind it all is that Weapons Master dude who is desperate to get a new weapon for his arsenal: a Green Lantern ring. The attack on the Royal Flush Gang fails to get him the ring so he decides to attack directly. But not in this issue! He has to wait for a regular series issue. Ice uses Guy's ring to contact Hal Jordan because somebody finally decided this Justice League wasn't really a big league Justice League. Everybody reading it knew it for years. But I guess Dan Jurgens was assigned the task to get a new, more believably powerful League together. So Hal Jordan flies around to pick up some new members to save the day. He chooses The Flash and Aquaman which seems about right. But he also chooses Crimson Fox which seems like sliding backwards into goofy Justice League territory. Not that I totally approve of Aquaman but I have to admit he's a "serious" choice for the League.

Doctor Light also joins the party. Although why she'd keep the name of a pedo, I couldn't guess. Just become Lightwoman or something. But no! Once some jerk earns their doctorate, they just have to demand to be called Doctor.

I'm sorry. I was too distracted pointing out that Doctor Light joined the fight and how her namesake was a pervert to comment on Metamorpho acting like a huge fucking pig. Crimson Fox beats up some guys dressed as cards and admits that she's a boring idiot whose favorite part of the game is shuffling the cards. I understand the need to think up some kind of goofy one-liner when you go into battle but shouldn't you at least try to think up one that doesn't make yourself sound like a pathetic asshole? Weapons Master's plan failed but he figures he has enough information to get Green Lantern's ring next time. He'll then sell it to a Dominator for a few bucks and maybe some slaves. The big hitters talk it over and decide they should start a new Justice League without the approval of the United Nations. Yeah! Who needs some stupid Earthly authority when you've got an invulnerable Kryptonian, an all powerful space cop, and the king of the seven seas! All they need is a Greek Goddess and a mentally ill furry with a long history of violent behavior and they'll have the big team back together! Booyah! I mean, without that stupid Booyah shit because Cyborg is basically a toaster at this point. Maybe. I don't know! What am I, Johnni DC, Continuity Cop?! The heroes make one more decision: split the group into two Leagues. So once again, they're forming Justice League America and Justice League Europe. How come I don't remember this shit?! Did the comics get canceled in '92 and then immediately fired back up? I don't seem to remember two different incarnations of these teams. Maybe I should have stored my comic books in chronological order so it would all make sense. Justice League Spectacular #1 Rating: C. I just read the letters pages and it looks like this comic book takes place between JLA #60 and JLA #61! So editorial decided the teams needed to be shaken up and the best way to do it was to disband the League in the regular series, have a special one-shot comic that gets them back together but with a different roster, and then send them back to work in the next issue of the regular series. I guess I should just shove this comic book into the middle of the regular series so when I reread it all again in my 80s, it'll make more sense! Let's close with the worst drawing of Aquaman I've ever seen:

Actually, he looks a little bit like Grunion Guy.

[ngame989]

“Glow” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 5

Writing: @ngame989

Art: @toxicpsychox

Editing: @toxicpsychox, @seddm, @dinodinodude​, an invaluable IRL friend

Summary: A new sort of feeling arises in Star and Marco's relationship, leaving them uncertain how to handle it. But with the advice of their loved ones and their unbounded emotional honesty with each other, they might just discover for themselves how to bask in its glow.

Comic Page

This one’s a bit different, y’all. It deals with sexual themes and has two separate versions, the full story on AO3 being non-explicit/tasteful M and the edited Tumblr version being a heavy T. This is the only fic for TGG that I plan on crossing the T/PG13 threshold with, but my goal for this series was to catalog the journey of Star and Marco after the show ended and I stand by my decision to include this as a part of it. Please read the content warning and enjoy whatever version you are most comfortable with, if either.

Also, as a fun aside, you may recall the first scene of this from the teaser I posted here months ago, so the snippet of Starco fanfiction I wrote in the presence of Daron Nefcy is now officially part of the work!

Masterpost

See below for the text and an important content warning, hope you enjoy!

IMPORTANT CONTENT WARNING AND AUTHOR’S NOTE: This chapter deals with sexual themes and my telling of a >16 year old Star and Marco’s first time. The text below is a modified version of the complete fic, posted exclusively on AO3 (linked below). I want The Greatest Gift as a whole to be accessible to a PG13 audience, and as such the Tumblr and FFnet versions have been altered to fit that, but I would HIGHLY advise you read the full version on AO3 for the intended narrative experience. It contains a non-vulgar and tasteful but still direct depiction of sexual intimacy that I feel is non-expendable to the emotional narrative, but I fully understand if any readers are not comfortable with it and hope you enjoy the version below.

FULL VERSION (AO3)

***

Star Butterfly was sure of only a few things in life: cake is the best kind of breakfast, wood deserves to be destroyed at every opportunity, she loved Marco, Marco loved her - just some basic truths she could always rely on. Certainty was a lofty bar, but if she died right now and went straight to heaven, she was almost certain she’d recreate magic with her bare hands just to portal back to Earthni as quickly as possible. Star wasn’t sure why, really; it was nowhere near her first kiss, still far from her first kiss with Marco, and it wasn’t even their first time getting a bit… heated. Of course she always enjoyed it, but why did everything feel amplified tenfold?

Her train of thought was delightfully derailed when Marco broke their nth kiss of the evening – she’d lost count of how many quite a while ago. She pushed herself back up on her elbows and knees and gazed lovingly at her boyfriend beneath her on the bed, his soothing chocolate eyes and visibly flushed cheeks standing out against the baby blue of his pajamas and bed sheets. So cute, her mind purred. His hands lingered on her cheeks for a few more seconds before they reached up to try and corral a few stray blonde hairs that draped down near his face. His brow furrowed as he struggled to tame her mane; it could have killed the mood after the first few failed attempts, but tonight Star found herself with a slowly spreading dopey smile on her face watching Marco struggle to neaten her up. “Hey,” she giggled after a long few moments, leaning down to kiss him on the nose.

Another large strand of hair draped onto him; his visage took on a determined look as he puffed some air to move it. “Hi”, he responded, satisfied with his efforts and finally returning her grin. They stayed like this, just basking in their goofy intimacy in the starlight twinkling through the window. Those feelings were still slowly smoldering inside, but they instantly ignited when Marco wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on top of him, resuming their kissing with renewed ardency. Her eyes shut as she tried to just tune out the world and experience nothing but Marco. The lingering scent of shampoo or soap, some variant of cinnamon, was something she’d no doubt smelled countless times before, but in the moment it was intoxicating. Instinct took over, and Star’s instincts in this field all tended to lead to one particular place. One hand, then another, slipped their way under his pajama shirt, tracing the area where another Marco in another time might be buff beyond belief, but the last year had still done him quite a bit of good in that department. A tingling sensation, one that she wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with, pricked her skin all over when one of Marco’s hands moved upward to tangle itself in her hair and bring them ever closer, trying to feel as much of his presence as she could. Light began to seep in through her eyelids, which was odd considering the sun had gone down and all the lights were off. She opened her eyes, still maintaining the kiss, and moved a hand up to the back of Marco’s head to inspect the situation while idly twirling a lock of his hair.

Upon seeing a two brilliantly glowing moons on his cheeks, she started suddenly enough that her forehead collided with Marco’s. “Ow, Star, ow, what the-”

“Marco… your cheeks…”

His eyes opened after he finished rubbing the pain in his forehead out, finally noticing the brilliant light. “That hasn’t happened since right after Cleaving. Weeeeird. Wait, why aren’t yours glowing?”

“They aren’t?” Star’s nose scrunched up in thought; rationally, she knew that there wasn’t necessarily any reason to expect it, but usually everything between them happened in sync. “You’re right, it’s weeeeird.”

Marco propped himself on his elbows and shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. Could be something dumb, that happens a lot with magic. Maybe it’s just because I drank too much soda earlier,” he jested.

“I finished off all the Mountain Mew days ago, and mine didn’t light up then,” Star retorted, but her eyes went wide before she’d even finished saying it. Oh no, Star, you really screwed up now...

“Explains why you were so jittery,” he sniggered, shifting to lie down once more. He was halfway down on the bed before he sprang back up, pivoting directly towards Star and staring at her incredulously. “Wait, all of it? Even the limited edition Caja Clash?” She merely responded with a guilty lopsided smile, eyes downcast. “Staaaaaar... That was Quest Buy-exclusive, and that was like a year’s supply…” he groaned and slumped back into the pillows.

“It’s just so delicious, Marco! Ugh, it was dumb, I’m sorry, I always tell myself ‘just one more’ but then-”

“Star,” he said firmly to cut off her imminent rambling. After a long moment, during which Star finally managed to still herself, he warily smiled. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, I’m sure we can find more somewhere. Maybe Tom has connections or something. Besides, I still have at least a few hidden in case something like this happened, so we can just-”

“Well, about that…”

“Decoy backup stash,” Marco stated flatly. “Good thing Janna hates the stuff, though, or else there’d be no hope for any of it.” Star snickered, relieved that she hadn’t screwed everything up. He shuffled under the covers and gave her an expectant look, at which she crawled in beside him. Deep down she bemoaned the fact that something just always seemed to get in the way lately, but she cherished all these moments nonetheless. They shared one last quick kiss before she turned around and wiggled herself into his arms for their usual night-time cuddles.

“G’night, Star, love you.”

“Love you too,” she sighed out, but something still didn’t add up. It had to be the soda, right? It still nagged at her a little bit, but it was more comfortable believing that the unexpected tonight was all some dumb delicious soda’s fault. Maybe it wasn’t certain, but it was easy, and giving in to that idea calmed her until sleep finally took hold.

***

Forward, forward. Thrust forward. Steady on your feet. Star pressed the attack with a flurry of slashes, keeping her momentum driven towards her opponent relentlessly. He took it in stride, deflecting each blow and hopping backwards in lockstep with her, spinning and ducking and dodging, seemingly immune to being thrown off balance. A forceful parry turned her most powerful strike against her, sending her reeling backwards.

You can do this. Her eyes darted around momentarily in an attempt to regain her bearings. Steel from Marco’s blade sparkled in the fading Earthni sunlight, distracting from the far more ornate guard covering his hands entirely from this angle - dark blue with a heart and crescent moon on opposite sides of the weapon - it was only fitting he’d decided to nickname it “Cleaver” when she gave him the custom-crafted falchion for his birthday months ago. He was wearing an outfit similar to his riding gear, a ripped jacket on top of his grey t-shirt to protect from the chill of the evening weather. Star couldn’t help but notice that it was hugging him a bit more closely than when they’d started these sparring sessions in recent months, probably from a combination of his growing height and the light muscle definition making itself visible through the fabric. The calm of their recent lives was wonderful, but this was a welcome dose of action and adventure, and she wasn’t exactly opposed to getting to seeing Marco in the heat of battle more often.

Focus. Their eyes finally met, his smoldering with enough confidence to outmatch the fire in her own. Star and Marco stared at each other for a few moments, breathing heavily. Finally, Marco slowly advanced, measuring his strikes carefully to be counterable but still successful, shoving her backwards without ever completely finishing the job.

He’s good, but you’re Star Butterfly. She huffed each time metal clanged on metal, trying her best to mirror Marco’s cool responses to oncoming attacks but getting more and more frustrated and unsteady with each blow. Finally her patience snapped as she dashed towards him with a strangled scream. His eyes narrowed as he powerfully swung in retaliation and Star’s realized a split-second too late what he was aiming to do. The silver blade struck home near the hilt of her own right when she adjusted her grip for her own strike, knocking it to the ground.

Oh crud.

The two registered what was happening at about the same time, a spark of panic evident in Marco’s expression as Star started to topple to the ground. He tossed his weapon aside gracelessly and dove forward instinctively, wrapping an arm around her before they both hit the grass, rolling until she was lying haphazardly on top of him.

“Soooooo… draw?” Star suggested playfully after she’d regained her breath.

Marco chuckled, stretching out his limbs on the ground rather than wasting any energy trying to get up. “Fine. It was a close one.”

She rolled over and debated pushing herself up on her hands to face him, but instead opted to flop down into his chest since her arms felt like pudding. His heart pumped forcefully enough to make the vibration felt on her cheek. “Yeah, but I haven’t won yet. Still getting used to fighting without any magic.”

“You’ll get there, Star.”

“I know. I do have the best teacher, after all,” she crooned, waggling her finger lazily in the air before booping him on the nose and scooting upwards to nuzzle into his neck. Another few minutes of rest went by until Star shivered, feeling an especially potent blast of cold air on her skin. “OK, Marco, cuddles are great and all but it’s kinda cold and I’m kinda sweaty.” She stood and helped him up, taking the swords back inside. “Dibs on first shower!” Star shouted when Marco was distracted, bolting upstairs before he could try and stop her. She stepped under the spray, letting the initial burst of cold water hit her to rinse off before settling in under a soothing warm deluge. The only thing that kept her from letting it massage her aching muscles for minutes or hours was the fact that she knew Marco needed a turn just as badly as she did, so she cut it short - by Star standards, anyway - and got dressed before giving Marco the all-clear.

Right as he finished, Angie called upstairs to inform everyone that dinner was ready, and Star followed her downstairs, famished from the afternoon’s high-octane physical activity. Marco joined while his parents were collecting the bowls in the kitchen, his hair still damp and glistening. Star giggled and poked at pieces matted to his face, brushing them aside. Without realizing it, her left hand lingered on his face, thumb idly rubbing circles on his cheek, while her right dropped to his chest and fiddled with the neck of his fresh t-shirt. She had no trouble admitting he was every kind of adorable - he was her boyfriend, after all, and she’d even thought he was cute long before she’d even figured out her feelings for him - but moments like this, where she got to just sit back and drink in every little detail that made her Marco Marco, crystallized it at the forefront of her mind until she could scarcely focus on anything else. His own hands caught and held hers as they just basked in the familiar tranquility of togetherness alone.

...until, that is, Rafael and Angie barged in from the kitchen with the stew he’d made for them tonight, smirking at the sight in front of them. “You two remind me a lot of us at your age, you know,” Angie cooed, setting the side dishes on the table. Earthni had tragically inherited some of Earth’s farming conditions, leading to a desperate shortage of corn in the winter. The frozen stuff was good, but it could just never be the same. The thought distracted Star enough to break the trance she had still been in before, and she finally separated from Marco and turned her full attention to the meal in front of her. “Well, except for all the breaking up and getting back together.”

Marco choked on the first bite he’d taken. “Wait, you two broke up a lot? Whaaa-”

“Long story, hijo,” Rafael cut him off, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, I am so glad to see the two of you fighting all the time! It’s wonderful to watch.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh-” Star and Marco stammered out in unison.

“What your father means to say, dear, is that the two of us spied on your little swordfighting session earlier. We even got some pictures! Who would’ve thought our Marco would be like an action movie hero someday?”

“Oh boy,” Marco flatly responded, burying his head in his hands. The rest of the dinner continued on in a silence that felt a bit tense as Angie and Rafael kept giving each other funny looks, as if trying to converse without words, but Star was far too hungry to pay attention to the details while she scarfed down two whole bowls of the old Mewnian stew that Rafael had taken a liking to cooking (albeit with his own flair, which made it far better by Star’s estimation).

Once they were all done, Angie glanced up at her husband inquisitively one final time, and he nodded. She seemed to take that as a cue for something, raising her eyebrows and staring at each of the teens in turn with motherly concern, clasping her hands together on the table. “Star, Marco… we noticed you two have been doing a lot of sparring lately. First, we want to say that we have absolutely no problem with you... sparring. You’re both very mature and responsible people for your age and I trust you can handle yourselves responsibly. But if and when you both decide to get more serious with sparring, make sure you’re properly protected, OK? That’s all we ask.”

“Sure thing, I still have closets full of armor at Eclipsa’s.” Star phrased it almost as a question, not sure what to make of the statement and why they seemed to cautious to talk about it and why she kept pausing on the word “sparring” and why they were still looking at her expectantly oh sweet Mewni you’re such an idiot, Star. She violently coughed, trying desperately not to hack up the meat and vegetables she’d inhaled, upon the realization of the implied meaning of the statement, but Marco seemed unfazed by it as he tried to ease her through the fit. Once they’d all settled down and he made sure Star was feeling OK after her seemingly inexplicable fit, Marco followed Rafael into the kitchen with the first batch of dishes.

Star stood up to follow them in, but Angie held up a hand to block her. “Star, honey… you did get what I was saying, righ-”

“Uh-huh, yep. Totally understood,” she blurted out, desperate not to dig that topic back up. She loved Marco’s parents, but that didn’t make this any easier. Angie’s eyes softened as she patted Star’s arm sympathetically. “Well, I’m not quite sure Marco did. Mind giving us a few minutes with him?”

“Yeah, sure.” She was more than OK with getting out of there as quickly as possible, shuffling upstairs before plopping on their bed and getting out the necessary tools and snack stash for tonight’s planned movie marathon of the new Mackie Hand. Why anyone thought a realistically animated remake of a live action movie was a good idea was beyond her, but it looked so stunningly awful that it was sure to deliver a few good laughs.

But her mind couldn’t put aside the after-dinner conversation for long, even with the warmth brought by the promise of bad movie night laughter, snacks, and cuddles awaiting her, and she unconsciously squirmed with a weird mix of embarrassment and worry despite no one being near. Would he feel the same way she did about this? They were no strangers to physical intimacy, even before they’d sealed the deal with their feelings, and it had certainly been flourishing in recent months. Star was far from shy about expressing physical attraction or affection, but recent events were her first experiences diving below the surface with anyone else. She wanted more of it, more of him. But there was a huge difference between just letting what felt right happen, and talking or even consciously thinking about it, and the latter most definitely wasn’t one of her strong suits.

“Star?” Marco’s voice cracked sheepishly as he peeked into the room. “You still, um, up for the movie?”

“Totally, totally, totally,” she pumped her voice full of enthusiasm to try and forcefully cut through the awkwardness preemptively. “TV’s set up, blanket is cozy, and Sizzlin’ Hot Cornritos are ready for snacking!”

He hopped into bed next to her, high-fiving her. “Tonight’s gonna be perfect.”

It didn’t take long for Star to drift over into his arms, cozying up as was tradition for Thursdates (or most other times, really), but something felt off. Still warm and affectionate, yet not going any further than that as she’d come to expect. Every smile or kiss was still met with one in turn, but his facial features strained slightly, holding back as though she was made of glass. She tried to pawn off her focus onto the movie, but it unfortunately turned out to be bad in the boring-slash-cringey way more than anything, a fact Marco lamented quite vocally at every opportunity, never failing to make Star roll her eyes. He was still her normal Marco in that way, at least.

Once the credits rolled, Star took the mental hype she’d been slowly building for herself during the entire course of the film to conquer her fears and speak up. “Hey Marco? About earlier…”

“Zzzzzzz...”

She suppressed a growl in her throat. It still miffed her that even just trying to talk about going further got stalled out, but she resigned herself to her inability to do anything about it now. In truth, she too was pretty worn out from the long day of training, so after turning off the TV and shoving everything away, she snuggled back under the blanket beside Marco and welcomed a comfy yet frustrated night of rest.

***

Heart, moon. Heart, moon. Heart, moon. The two remaining marshmallows danced in the leftover milk of the cereal bowl after Marco gobbled down a few diamonds and spades. Marco had already wondered whether buying Captain Blanche’s Cleave Crunch was such a great idea when he’d bought it - though some part of him was certainly flattered - but the regret he was feeling over it came from an unexpected place, just a reminder of his current restlessness. He’d felt like an absolute idiot after his mother had to explain what she meant at dinner a few days ago a second time, and he felt even worse that he’d completely avoided the issue with Star after. Maybe he was dense at times, but in hindsight it was obvious Star took the hint the first time, and neither had spoken up about it since. Finally he slurped down the remainder of his midnight snack and wandered back into the corridors of the temple, tired from the long day of dealing with Meteora alone while Star had girls’ night at Janna’s. How was he going to bring it up with Star? Every part of him wanted to talk to her, wanted to tell her how he felt, wanted… wanted more, with her. Too tired to stay awake, too lost in thought to sleep, his wallowing continued as he turned a corner- Bam!

Marco stumbled back after the unexpected collision, picking up the cereal bowl and groaning at the driblets of milk he couldn’t slurp that were now on his hoodie.

“Oh, dear! So sorry, Marco.” Eclipsa, clad in her usual pink pajamas helped steady him on his feet and took the bowl, sending it with Archibald to the kitchen.

“It’s fine, this needed washed anyway. Meteora spit all over it as I was trying to go to put her to sleep. She wasn’t sick or anything, she waited for me to turn my back and crawled out of her crib just to drool on it,” he griped, rubbing his temple.

She put her hand in front of her mouth to laugh, leading Marco out of the entryway and into the much more open dining room. “That’s my little girl. I do hope she wasn’t too much trouble. Deep down I think she’s coming around to you, slowly. Maybe Mariposa is rubbing off on her.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, rubbing his downcast eyes.

“Is everything alright, dear?”

“Can’t sleep… just got a lot on my mind.”

“Would you like to talk about it? I personally find it’s quite helpful to not go to bed with a stray concern, if at all possible.”

He finally glanced up from his shoes, meeting her sympathetic expression only momentarily before studying some nearby floor tiles. “It… might be kind of awkward.” She merely raised an eyebrow inquisitively. A sigh escaped his lips, knowing he probably didn’t have much of a choice - even if she didn’t press, he wouldn’t forgive himself for keeping this bottled inside even an hour longer. “It’s- well, it’s just- um, you see, the thing is… it’s Star awkward.”

“Ah,” she smirked knowingly. She located two of the finer armchairs from the periphery of the room and placed them opposite each other, beckoning Marco to join her. “I can handle awkward, dear. Do tell.”

“You’re sure?”

“I was a teenager in love myself, once upon a time,” she joked, causing the corner of his mouth to reflexively turn up. “It’s not always easy, and- well, let’s just say my mother wasn’t someone I could have easily gone to for my particular troubles. If being a listening ear can help lessen that burden for you, it would be my honor.”

A warmth spread through his chest at the words, ever grateful for the support. Even to this day, he felt a small pang of guilt that at some point he’d been incredibly distrustful of the woman, though he knew she didn’t hold that against him. In the time leading up to the Blood Moon Curse debacle, she’d been a nurturing shoulder to cry on, so he wasn’t sure why he was being so hesitant - perhaps it was just a thought spiral getting to him. “Things with Star are great, it’s not about that, it’s just- it’s been getting… serious, lately.” He stopped fidgeting with his hands and spared her a glance, noting that her body language was still passive and inviting him to continue. “Um… physically serious, I guess. Kind of. Not- not that, yet.”

“It’s not my place to judge, dear. You’re trying to figure things out for yourself, that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

He nodded once quickly, mostly to reassure himself and spur himself onward. “It’s just… new to me. All of it.”

“So Star is the first girl you’ve gotten ‘serious’ with, then?”

The blush that had been steadily growing on his cheeks was burning now, but he soldiered on. “Well, yeah, she is, but it’s more than that. There was this one day at school a few years ago that everyone hated where they talked about puberty- um, basically human Mewberty, without any of the weird bug stuff,” he clarified upon seeing her confusion. “And they said that when it happens, you’ll start to have, uh, sexual feelings, but I never really did. It’s not like I didn’t know what those kind of feelings were or anything. But every crush I had, even with Star, wasn’t about that at all. Holding hands or kissing was nice, but I- I never really felt like I wanted anything more, if that makes sense. That was just normal Marco.”

Once more, his eyes darted upwards to meet hers, looking for some direction. Eclipsa had her hands folded on her lap, nodding along with his words. She took a moment, then clasped her hands together. “Mmmh. So what’s different?”

“The past month or two, it’s all caught up to me, I guess. Everything we do, even regular everyday stuff, just feels so much more intense, and I’ve never felt this way before, and then my mom gave me and Star a talk about it and it-it-it’s just so much all at once a-and I don’t want to screw anything up or hurt her-”

Eclipsa sprung out of the chair, closing the distance and pulling Marco into a warm embrace. “Oh, sweetie.” Marco’s attempts to stifle the incoming sob only made it worse, gasping for breath as the tears that had welled up in his eyes cascaded freely. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright. I’m here, dear.” It was as though a dam had burst, letting loose all the tension and self-doubt he’d been pushing out of mind into the comforting shoulder. Even now, after so many wonderful months with the girl he loved more than anything, he still found a way to bury feelings until they bit him on the behind. Good one, Diaz, he sardonically remarked to himself. Once the waterworks dried up, Eclipsa stood back, pulling them both into a standing position. She wiped the last salty tear off his face with a somber yet calming grin. “You’re a kind, compassionate, and adoring young man, and you mean the entire world to Star. I’m afraid I can’t promise there will never be any hurdles, but I’m confident that you two can solve anything. Love is one of the most magical things in the entire universe; the fact that you're here is living proof, after all.”

“Thanks, Eclipsa. This is- it really means a lot. Thanks. And, um, speaking of love and magic… a few weeks ago, my cheekmarks - only mine - glowed one night while Star and I were, um… ‘getting serious’.” He rubbed the back of his neck as she softly chuckled. Somehow this was part of the conversation living up to the promise of awkwardness the most. “It wasn’t, um, the first time I started feeling like this, but it was definitely the first time it was strong enough to just hit me in the face. Literally,” he unintentionally jested.

Her smile widened immensely, bordering on teasing him. “When I was younger, Glossaryck fancied me more than most of his prior students, which led to the rather unfortunate situation of him striking up casual chats to gossip about queens. Plenty of information I had no desire whatsoever to know, and certainly a fair share of stories no living being needs to hear again, but I did learn that cheekmarks react more readily when emotions are both powerful and novel, so it doesn’t surprise me that yours would glow during such a moment. And as for Star’s…” He mentally flinched as she paused, preparing to answer the question even the darkest corner of his mind hadn’t dared ask.

“Everyone’s own relation to magic was a little bit unique, and you two are already a special case nowadays. Just be honest with her, dear. It’s the best way to sort it out, and all knowledge is good knowledge, you know. Even as a former magical queen, I truthfully can’t give you all the answers and figure out why Star’s hearts might not have reacted.” She hugged him one last time, and he was too dumbfounded to reciprocate before she started walking out of the room. As his mind began to process everything she said, her voice rang out once more from right at the entryway. “I am still a wise old woman with a bit of experience in this area myself, though,” she drawled with a wink and a finger tapping her cheek. “And if I knew anything about you two, I’d bet all the chocolate I own that it’s because Star has those same feelings, but they’re nowhere near new.”

***

“Hello? Anyone home?” Weird. Star strolled up and down the hallways and staircases of the Monster Temple, looking for any signs of life. As far as she knew Eclipsa and Globgor were only supposed to be gone yesterday while she was at Janna’s, and Marco hadn’t indicated he’d left yet even though his babysitting duties were presumably over. Kitchen? Nope. Dining room? Nuh-uh. Foyer? Even Archibald didn’t seem to be around. What the heck was going on?

She finally made her way through the winding route to her room, finding it empty as well and falling spreadeagle onto the bed, smacking the octopus on her dress directly into the silky sheets. Girls’ night had been a blast, but it left her restless. Hanging out with Janna and Ponyhead always threatened to deliver stressful experiences, but surprisingly it wasn’t even about that - she’d have welcomed the usual frustrating shenanigans to divert her mind from things. Unfortunately for her, however, the planets had aligned and put girls’ night at a peak among Pony and Seahorse’s rollercoaster of chronic breakups and public spectacles made out of getting back together, and Pony couldn’t wait to tell the world about every moment of their relationship. While Star was pretty sure no living being deserved to be subjected to the details therein, the forwardness in every part of their relationship still reminded her of the subject she’d been avoiding in her own, and had just left her impatient to get back to figuring out how to broach that topic with Marco.

The thud from her hitting the bed had gotten Marco’s attention from his room in a fresh grey t-shirt and dark jeans, hair ever-so-slightly damp. He took off his headphones and put down his laptop, opening the door. “Star? Is that you?”

“Eep!” Marco’s voice kicked her out of her reverie, causing her to launch off the bed and spring upwards, bouncing once on the mattress and falling back onto it facefirst. “M’ok!” she cried, muffled, into the mattress. He strode over to her bed, helping her up and sitting down next to her, giggling at the antics. Last night’s talk with Eclipsa had clarified a lot for him, but Star’s presence still uniquely made him feel at ease. “Not funny,” she pouted, but she broke composure soon enough as the laughter was too infectious to resist.

“How was the sleepover?” Marco asked as he let himself fall backwards onto the pillow. “Sounded like you were busy when you texted me earlier.”

Star shrugged and turned to face him. “Ponyhead is back with Seahorse.”

His eyes widened in terror. “Did she-” she nodded, causing him to shudder. “Oh no. Her last set of stories about that relationship gave me nightmares for a week. Never thought I could actually feel that bad for a soulless seahorse that’s probably a robot.”

She sighed, partly in agreement and partly at the continual reminders of their own situation needling her brain, and lay across his lap. “Despite everything, I think they somehow make each other happy, so good for them I guess? Anyway, we spent most of this afternoon cleaning up eyeball juice from Janna’s house- don’t ask,” she cut in before he could voice his concerns, “and I stopped a few times on the way here to get cleaned up, eat, and all that junk.” The last few words came out hurried as Star tried to shove the full story out of her mind. “Anyway, where is everyone? This whole place was empty when I got here.”

Marco sat up, his eyebrows furrowing in perplexion. “Wait, Eclipsa isn’t here? We picked fresh corn and had dinner, like, an hour ago, right after you texted me. Globgor’s elotes are amazing, by the way. Year-round corn and Mew-Mex cuisine is the best thing on Earthni.”

“Aww, if I’d have known would have just waited to eat. You wanted them all for yourself, didn’t you, mister?” She lightly punched him in the arm with a teasing smile, to which he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Still, I don’t remember her saying they were leaving or anything. Maybe I should call her-”

“Wait, Marco, look,” she pointed to his door, which had swung partially shut on its own, revealing a note posted to it. She stood up and walked over, reading it aloud after he sat back up to focus fully on her. “Dear Star and Marco, Meteora started teething and ate holes through most of her toys and even took a chunk out of her cradle. Globgor suggested taking her to the forest to chew on some stiff bark and get it out of her system. We’re staying with Moon and River tonight, it’s been far too long since we’ve had a good talk. As always, make yourselves at home. Ta-ta!” She walked back over to the bed. “Guess we have the place to ourselves. Aww, look, Marco! She drew a little cereal bowl here. She knows us so well.”

“Yeah. She does.” Marco choked down the lump that was steadily rising in his throat as he got a good look at the note himself. Eclipsa had left them alone, there was an incredibly exaggerated flair on her signature that underlined the word “talk”, and last night hadn’t even been the first cereal-adjacent conversation he’d had with Eclipsa about Star. The hint wouldn’t have been more obvious if the paper balled up into a fist and decked him on the spot. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You got this, Marco. Legs curled up into himself, brown hair knotted up in his fingers, and breaths became audible. “Star?” he croaked out. “I- I think there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been thinking too.” She bit her lip in concentration.

Marco fully turned on the bed to face her and she mirrored him. “About what my mom said?” he asked hesitantly. Star nodded tightly, focusing entirely on the rich brown pools shining into her own. She wanted to clear the air, no matter how awkward it might be, and the calming energy radiating from his own pushed her through. “Ugh, I feel so stupid for not bringing it up earlier-”

She clutched one of his hands sympathetically; now was not the time for him to get into one of these moods. “Marco, it’s not your fault! I didn’t either, and besides, it was only a few days ag-”

“No, it wasn’t.” His eyes closed, trying to achieve some sort of zen as the words shuffled themselves around in his mind, but the twitching of his free hand gave away his nervousness. “It- it wasn’t just a few days ago. That night, with my cheekmarks… it was the first time I’d felt something really strong, for you, thaaaat way…”

“Sexually.” Star completed the sentence calmly, clearing her mind and giving him space to talk. Marco nodded, but a split second later his eyes widened in realization of how she might be taking it.

“No- well, yes, b-but… what I mean is, ugh, I- it’s a me thing. Not you,” he stammered. “These types of feelings… it’s all new to me. Whenever I liked someone, I always just thought they were cool or pretty or adorable. Or all three,” he smirked, squeezing her hand. The last thing he wanted was for Star to think he had anything less than the utmost affection for her. “But I guess the more physical stuff just never clicked for me. I- I never really felt that way about anyone before, a-and I really enjoy it but it just freaked me out and I-I didn’t want it to be in the way-”

She planted her lips on his, initially meant to just be a peck, but lingered momentarily before pulling away. It always seemed to be this song and dance between them, putting their concern for the other over their own, but she was determined not to let him sink into that mire again. “Marco… it’s OK to feel that way about me, I want you to. I feel the same about you.”

Both his hands tentatively took hold of hers. “Do you want to… go further?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I- it’s all still new to me, I haven’t done anything like this before, but I really do, Star.”

“Same. Let’s just go with the flow and see what happens. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” he repeated softly, heart doing backflips in his chest. Star tugged him forward, pecking him gently as their night began.

***

“Is this weird?” she said many minutes later, pausing to appreciate their current situation before they crossed the final threshold together.

“Maybe a little,” he responded, leaning forward and kissing her sweetly. “But I love it.”

The strings of tension in her body all thrummed with warmth as the remaining jitters started to melt away. “I love you, Marco.” It was a refrain uttered casually between them these days - though they certainly meant it each time - but now it felt as though her entire body poured every emotion she had into that one expression.

“Love you too, Star,” he responded much the same before they closed the gap together, lips performing an intimate dance moving as one. The rest of their bodies followed suit and collided confidently, the mix of wild lust and bashful hesitance giving way to something new. A soft light became visible through their closed eyelids, and they separated, eyes widening at the sight. Two hearts and two moons emitting a pink glow in unison. They brightly grinned at each other, tracing the outlines of the marks on each others’ cheeks with their fingers, fully embracing the essential truth of their unbridled devotion to one another in mind, body, and soul, ready to follow their passion to its finality.

***

“So… that was something,” he uttered.

“Sure was,” she fondly smiled at her love, the sunken eyebrows and heavy lids framing his gaze emanating an aura laden with tender love. “This is nice. So what now?”

A rumbling in his stomach answered the question for him “...I’m kind of hungry already.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’ll make nachos and you find a movie?”

“You know me too well, Mr. Diaz,” she sighed, holding him tighter. “But, um, we should probably get cleaned up.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “It’s kind of cold. And sweaty. Maybe we should stay in my room tonight.”

“Guess naked cuddles aren’t always all they’re cracked up to be. A shower sounds really good right now,” she tittered, committing one last snapshot to memory before standing up on the floor and stretching her tired limbs. A hand intertwined itself with hers, stopping her from walking away.

“Mind if I join you? J-Just to shower…” he floundered, but she understood. Neither were up for continuing, but they still didn’t want this newfound intimacy to end.

Nothing more was said as the pair went hand-in-hand, wholly alone together. The bedroom light was the sole beacon lighting up the Monster Temple’s mountain, a pinprick glow joining the shining stars in the Earthni heavens above.

[acaseforpencils]

Robert Leighton.

Bio: Mostly in The New Yorker and The Wall Street Journal, along with appearances in The New York Times and even SpongeBob Comics. But I’m a puzzle writer too, and my most recent book, Puzzlelopedia, is fully illustrated by me. I’ve also illustrated a number of non-fiction books for kids.

Here’s my favorite New Yorker cartoon:

Find this print here!

I chose this cartoon because the idea and exact wording came to me all at once; I instantly knew it would sell; it sold the first time I submitted it; I was happy with the finished drawing; when I added the washes, I didn’t ruin it. Just about every other cartoon I’ve done varies in one or more of those elements.

Tools of choice: My tools are nothing special or exotic. Decent brushes, Higgins waterproof ink, Winsor & Newton gouache, Faber-Castell kneaded eraser. My finished drawings are on Bristol Vellum 100 lb. paper. I don’t spend a fortune on the paper, but I don’t buy the cheapest stuff either. It has to hold up to my watercolor washes. I love going to art stores (I could have spent all day in Ginza Itoya in Tokyo) but I don’t really believe that better equipment is responsible for better cartoons. Just be comfortable with what you use, or find something you like better.

My favorite drawing pen for finishes is the Pigma Brush by Sakura. I think lots of people use these; they have waterproof, archival quality ink, and when they’re new, the brush is really tight and expressive. I sketch with any old pencil I happen to have around (mechanical or plain). I like my fancy Japanese pencils and my Tombows but I’ll grab whatever is handy.

Tool I wish I could use better: I’m so thankful for white gouache, both for corrections and for highlighting. But it never works quite the way I’d like. I always have to add a little water so I can spread it easily—otherwise it’s like toothpaste. But then it dries translucent, and I need to add layer after layer before I’ve masked what’s under it.

Tool I wish existed: We all wish our finishes looked as spontaneous as our roughs. I’d love a program that could take a scanned rough and tighten it up so it looks print-ready, but not labored over.

Find this print here!

Tricks: I can share some of the tricks that have allowed me to get the effects I get. But please don’t take my advice, because I’m rarely happy with my finished pieces.

In no particular order:

Rotate the page while you draw. I don’t tape down my artwork. My arm is more comfortable at certain angles; for example I draw long lines from down to up. So I turn the paper as needed to keep my movements smooth.

Use a smaller pen point on the small details. I use a broader brush for my main lines, but I don’t have the skills to get in there and use that brush for the smaller details like faces and fingers. So I switch to smaller points for those areas. If these uniform lines lack the feel of brushwork, I’ll manually add accents, but that’s often unnecessary.

I place anything that can spill into the center of a tape roll. That way I can’t accidentally knock over the ink, or the dirty water, and ruin everything.

This cartoon, with a reference to M.C. Escher, has been permanently installed on the 84th floor of the Empire State Building.

With few exceptions, like the Escher cartoon above, I don’t use a ruler in my finishes. I’ll use a ruler to work things out in pencil, but I’ll trace that line freehand to give it a more spontaneous feel.

If you’re not feeling it, walk away. I occasionally lose my touch in the middle of doing a finish—my line gets wobbly, or just doesn’t feel natural. It’s always better to walk away than to plow through. Come back later and it might go smoothly from then on.

Two more things about my process:

I work pretty large; the image area is usually about 8 x 10 (drawn on 11 x 14 paper); I use pretty bold lines so the work won’t appear too wispy once it’s shrunk down and printed. Lately I haven’t been too happy with the look of my printed line, and I may try to go a bit thinner, but it’ll be a long slow process of trial and error.

After I add washes, I scan the work and clean it up in Photoshop. (I use a Wacom-style tablet screen made in China by Yiynova.) I duplicate and darken the black lines so they stay nice and sharp, even if I change the exposure of the washes.

Misc: One of the things I’ve learned over the years is not to care too much about any one finished piece. It is, after all, a cartoon and not an illustration. Too many details, too exacting a drawing, can slow down the delivery of your point. I’ve seen people looking at cartoons while reading on the subway. Within five seconds they give a glance, understand the joke (or not), and move on—even if they love what they’ve seen.

Website, etc.:

www.robert-leighton.com

My most recent book of puzzles, written with my partners, illustrated by me.

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Editor’s Note: A Robert Leighton fan sent a letter asking for him to be interviewed a couple months back, though funnily enough, Robert and I had been in talks for him to be on Case since 2016! Well worth the wait! 

If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi account as well! I do this blog for free, and your support helps a lot! You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!