#i liked the idea of a cat-creature with feathers but then thought the green stripes were excessive

[sun-marie]

In my Digital Art class, we were given free reign on what our final was, so I decided to redraw a 7 year old piece from back when I was first learning Photoshop. I thought I'd share it here as well since I'm proud of it 😊

(Top is original, bottom is redraw)

[labgrownsteaks]

Chapter 19

The cool ground surrounding the tunnel was comforting in a way, and for a moment I forgot I was a gopher. Guy was leading the pack through the tunnel, and he stuck his head out first, looking around to see if the hawk was anywhere in sight. Erin and I watched from below before Guy looked back and motioned with his head that it was safe to come out. We crawled past the sage which was growing in bunches up against the chain link fence. It made for a great cover and smelled fantastic to our gopher noses. One by one we climbed up the pole, just as Siri the butterfly had instructed and made our way to the little box which was precisely where she said it was. Guy was first up, apparently he really felt comfortable being a gopher as he took the mission very seriously. His paws scraped at the edge of the steel grey box to no avail. Erin was up second, she had a twig in her mouth which was fat and short. I sat back , gauging the distance for the jump and the landing area ahead of me. "You have room for me up there!" I shouted from below. "Come on!" Guy yelled back. Erin had wedged the twig underneath a corner of the edge of the box, and Guy was trying to grip it with his gopher hands to no avail. "I can't hold the damn thing!" he yelled out. I was about to jump, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a black creature, slowly moving further down the fence. It was a crow, and it had something in its mouth. Something shiny. I squinted my eyes to see the gopher, and called out to it. "Hey buddy! What do you have there?" The crow twitched its head over at me, and launched off the fence towards the box. As it came closer I could see it had a large object in its mouth of some sort. Was the crow Siri? There was no way to tell. Guy and Erin continued to fruitlessly attempt to open the box, but it wasn't budging an inch. The crow swooped near them and Erin screamed "Oh shit!!" and she jumped back, losing her balance and falling off the side. "What the fuck!" Guy called out as the crow flapped its wing and hovered just a few feet from him. The crow was silent. "He's got something in his mouth!" I yelled out to Guy. Erin looked up from below, her furry head covered in dust and old dead grass. "Whatcha got in your mouth buddy? Is that for us?" Guy asked as if he was talking to a puppy. "Whatcha got?" He repeated. The crow continued to hover, before getting a bit closer, its wing flapping furiously, its feathers black turning blue in the evening sun. And in a moment, he sat down at the top of the box right next to Guy.

"Nice birdie. Nice birdie. " Guy said softly. The crow remained silent. Moving its head sharply from side to side. Erin climbed up the fence and perched on top of it next to me as we watched it all unfold. In a cacaophony of movement and sound the crow began to bang on the box with its beak, causing Guy to jump, and be the next to fall off into a pile of dust and grass below. "Yes! break it open!" Erin shouted out. The crow continued to scratch and beat the box with the object in its mouth. It was a gold plastic of some type, probably from a childrens toy or something similar. Erin looked over at me and said "There's no way we would've got that open" and I agreed with a head nod. The crow continued its rampage against the box, cawing in between scrapes and smacks with the piece of plastic. A corner opened a bit and we could see the wires inside. "Yes! good boy!" Guy called out from below. The crow smacked its head around on the corner like a shark eating a seal. Aggressively moving it back in forth and jabbing it into the crevice which it had created. Its feathers began to fly, and a bit of blood could be seen accumulating on the edge. Erin and I looked at each other and winced for the bird which seemed to becoming more and more aggressive to the box. More feathers flying, more blood. With a loud caw the bird shoved its head inside the corner, and flapped its wings, causing it to hover while its head was still stuck inside. Erin jumped up onto the box, thinking that the crow was in danger. As it pulled out its head, Erin could see clearly a mechanical eye, and some stainless steel peering through the blood and flesh. "It's a robot!" she called out to Guy and I, who remained on the fence watching. "A Crowbot?" Guy said as he looked over at me . A flying robot was a very difficult thing to make, there were only a few in existence, and they were all property of the biggest tech companies in the world, which could only mean one thing. "Quicksilver!" I shouted out. Guy leapt from the edge of the fence onto the box and the bird promptly kicked him back off of it. It then looked straight at me in a menacing manner with its torn open robot eye. "Guy call Siri!" I shouted down to Guy in his pile of dust.

Guy gripped his earring with his gopher paw and called out for Siri. "Siri, is this crow sent from you?" "Siri!" But there was no response. Maybe the crow was sent and supposed to open the box for us, I hopped up on the box and was sent back down the second my paw set foot on it. The crow continued to wrestle like a maniac. The three of us crawled back up the fence and watched helplessly. In a split second what looked like a flying cat leapt out of the sky and hit the crow square in the center of its body which erupted in an explosion of wires and feathers. "An owl!" Erin called out A large barn owl could be seen flying off into the distance, but the crow remained writhing around trying to open the box. The owl was on our side! I thought. I felt like I was in a vietnam war movie and we had just got air support. The owl doubled back and then smacked again right at the crow, this time breaking its neck and exposing a tangle of cords and steel parts beneath the torn open flesh. Even so, the crow continued. A third time the owl plummeted from the heavens and this time mashed the crowbot up against the side of the box, splattering blood across the clean grey surface. The crow tried to let out a caw, but its voicebox had been damaged so it sounded like a glitched CD. But it continued to writhe and move, trying to break inside. The owl came for its final descent, and this time grabbed the crow in its talons before taking it up into the sky. It flew near an electrical pole a short distance away and plunged the bird into an electrical transformer which caused a delicious explosion of sparks and light. The lights surrounding the fenced in area all shut off immediately, and a small fire could be seen on the electrical transformer that quickly sizzled out. I glanced over at the box, and it swung gently back and forth in the wind. It was suddenly very quiet. A sharp contrast to all the chaos which had just happened minutes ago. Erin was the first up, and she spotted the green wire with the red stripe, marked 23c. She began to gnaw on it with her teeth, and it wasn't long before the copper wires were frayed into small bits. I remained on the fence, there was little I could do.

Erin hopped back down "What now?" she asked "Lets get back to our hole" I replied, and we all hopped down. I was the first to jump into the hole, and as soon as I did I was back in the garage. Alone. Then quickly following after me, as if they had been beamed on an episode of Star Trek, Guy and Erin followed. Guy was on the couch, and Erin and I were by the sink. We looked at each other in silence for a moment before Erin exclaimed "Fuck ya! That was fucking awesome!" Guy began to laugh, the joint he had previously been puffing was sitting in the ashtray, still smoking. He picked it up and took a long drag before handing it to me. "What the fuck was up with that crowbot?" I said after inhaling a monster hit. "Had to have come from Quicksilver, but why would it be trying to do the same thing we were tasked with?" Erin said. And just then the wall screen lit up with a faded purple color which illuminated the room in its light. It reminded me of blacklights, and a simpler time when we could all just hang out and get stoned and watch Ninja III. Siri began to speak. "The crow wanted to trip the alarm which would've triggered an automatic backup of everything open at the time" "So...were you the owl?" Erin asked, her face beautifully illuminated in three quarter light, and the smoke slowly ribboning upwards. "No, that was just a crow" "Come on!" I said. "I have no idea who sent the owl, but all things point to it being fully biological. We were quite lucky to have it on board!" Siri stated. "Badass owl" Guy said as he puffed on the joint. "Siri can you show me if there are any ancient stories about Owls helping humans?" but the screen showed nothing. "Siri?" Guy said. But there was nothing but silence. "Siri search for pickles!" I said, and nothing. Erin dug her phone out of her pocket, and began to slide her hand across the screen. She looked up "There's no service" she said. "well at least we have a good alibi" Guy said. In the distance we could hear the sound of sirens. We had taken out all cell phone service, and all internet service for what seemed to be all of Chisuwick, maybe all of the state.

[little-murmaider]

Fic: Everybody Make a Scene

Summary: The band doesn’t understand why Charles won’t let them go trick or treating. 

Rating: General

Notes: This was my gift for a trick or treat exchange! The prompt was “The boys in costume, have fun with it.” And I did! Enjoy!

Charles reclined into his seat with a sigh, moving aside the volumes of paperwork cluttering his desk. Clearly he would not be getting to it today.

“So you’re just going to ban trick or treating,” Nathan said. Green paint was smeared inelegantly down his face and neck, his lips and eyes blacked out with dark lipstick. Duct tape secured a pair of double D batteries to either side of his neck. “Wow. Talk about heartless.”

“I’m not banning anything, I just—“

“Maybe you should have dressed up as the Tin Man.”

“Ah. Very clever.”

“From The Wizard of Oz.”

“Yes, I’m aware—“

“Because you don’t have a heart.”

“I understand, Nathan, but what I’m trying to say is now is not the time for trick or treating—“

At Nathan’s side, an inflatable t-rex waggled it’s pathetically tiny arms.

“Yeh didn’t even cahmpliment our cahstumes!”

“YEAH you haven’t said one nice thing about our costumes!”

“You—“

“We gaht all dressed up an’ ya haven’t even said anything!”

“—haven’t given me an opportunity—“

“You ban trick or treating, you hate our costumes, you’re ruining our Halloween!!!”

“—to say much of anything.”

One of Nathan’s batteries dislodged from his neck and clunked to the floor. “I’m Frankenstein’s monster. Not that you asked.”

Charles pushed his fingers beneath his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he said after a pause. “If it will get you to listen to me, fine. Nathan, your get up is very…intimidating. Out of curiosity, where did you find those batteries?”

“Carbon monoxide detector.”

“Ah. Well. One moment, allow me to just…” He grabbed a Post-It note and scribbled SPEAK WITH CONTRACTOR; ACCELERATE HIDDEN ALARM SYSTEM TIMELINE. “There we are. Pickles?”

The creature’s massive head turned to face Charles, its google-eyes rattling in their plastic prisons.

“You…are a dinosaur.”

“Yeeah Imma dinosaaaaaaaaaaur!”

“Quite, ah, daunting. Did you happen to purchase this item while drunk?”

“Yeeah dood I was totally hammered, how’dja know?”

“Lucky guess. Toki. You, hm.”

Toki perked up with pride as Charles’s gaze scanned the full length of his body. Charles drank everything in. The scraggly green-dyed hair. The vibrant three-piece suit in three wildly disparate colors. The face like a geometry worksheet—chalky white skin, blue rectangles over the eyes, pink circles dabbing the cheeks, a bright red curve stretched across the mouth. Charles pressed his lips into a thin, tight line.

“You are. A clown.”

Toki beamed. “You likes it! It’s de cool new characters Toki mades up! De Toker.” He held up his gloved hands and waggled his fingers. “I’s just a kitty-cats chasingks boats.”

“What a…terrifying new outlet for your creativity."

“T’anks!”

Hovering at Toki’s elbow, Skwisgaar was almost unrecognizable. A green cloak draped his slender form, a yellow scarf knotted neatly around his neck. His eyes were shadowed beneath the wide brim of a pointed hat, a bright yellow feather and a garland of daisies contrasting against the green fabric. He had tied a fishing line and lure to the neck of his guitar, which had been stuffed into a brown satchel strapped to his back.

“Skwisgaar, my apologies, but I don’t recognize your costume. Are you some sort of woodland entity, or…?”

“Snufkin,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Beg pardon?”

“I’s, huegh, I’s Snufkin? From Moomins?”

Charles shook his head. “I’m not familiar.”

“None of us are,” Nathan added.

“I ams!!!” Toki chirped unhelpfully.

“He’s a character in dese books I used to reads as a little tiny kids.” Skwisgaar grimaced as though the explanation caused him physical pain. “Dey mades a bunch of shows, it’s really populars.”

“Dey gots Moomin theme parks in Finlands and Japan!!!”

“Ja. And. Eughhhh I just. Wants-ted toooooo dress up. As. Snufkins.”

An embarrassed scowl darkened his features. He untied his scarf and coiled it around his rapidly flushing face.

“You know what’s I don’ts has to explains myselfs!!!”

“Skwisgaar, I think it’s very sweet you wanted to revisit something beloved from your childhood.”

“Fuck yous.”

“Indeed. Murderface, you—“

Murderface expelled a full-body exhale.

“Am I ever going to get a chance to schpeak?!”

“Well I did just address you by name, so…”

“I thought we were doing a group coschtume!!!!”

“Where’dja get that idea?” Pickles asked.

“We talked about it!”

“No we didn’t!”

“Yesch we did Picklesch I know we did becausche I wrote it down in my ledger!!!”

“Actually Murderface, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Charles said. “You, ah, can’t keep carving notes into the furniture and walls and call it your ledger. But that’s a separate issue, so if you all could please—“

Murderface barreled on: “We agreed to the group coschtume and then you chucklefucksch backed out to make me look like an idiot! Well jokesch on you.”

He held his arms aloft in triumph, inviting everyone to drink him in. A sunny yellow crop top clung to the top half of his torso, his doughy belly pudging over the waistband of the matching white-striped athletic pants. As much hair has he could gather had been cinched into a high ponytail on top his head.

“I look amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan said flatly. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Schporty Schpice! From the Schpice Girlsch!”

“You really thought we agreed to dress up like the Spice Girls?”

“You DID! Schkwishgaar wasch Posh, Toki wasch Baby, Picklesch wasch Ginger, you were Schcary and I wasch Schporty!”

“You don’t think that maybe,” Nathan formed a Y with his hand and rocked it back and forth between himself and Murderface, “two of those roles should be reversed?”

“No! I’m Schporty Schpice becausche everyone knowsch I’m the schportiest member of Dethklok!”

“You’re the sportiest member.”

“Yeah!”

“I was a state-ranked defensive back in high school!”

“Oh Nathan that’sch scho embarrasshing.” Murderface’s chuckle was rich in condescension. “Looksch like Schkwishgaar ischn’t the only one living in the past.”

Skwisgaar yanked his hat over his face to muffle his scream.

“This is stupid, none of this even matters because YOU.” Nathan whirled on Charles, a paint-tinted finger prodding him in the chest. “STILL haven’t given us ONE good reason why we can’t go trick or treating!”  

“Because it’s April!”

The unexpected boom of Charles’s voice stunned the band into silence, and he realized the sound had literally driven him to his feet. He adjusted his glasses. Stooping to the side, he withdrew a calendar from his desk drawer and slapped it into view.

“You can’t go trick or treating because there is no trick or treating,” he said, tapping at the month with unconcealed impatience. “Halloween was six months ago.”

It took a long time for the boys to process the information. Nathan squinted at the evidence on Charles’s desk. Skwisgaar peeked out from his cap and exchanged a mournful look with Toki. Murderface punched dejectedly at the air. Pickles’s reaction was unknowable, because he was inside a giant inflatable t-rex suit.

At last Nathan spoke.

“So,” he began slowly, “what you’re saying is, today is Halfway Halloween.”

“Get out of my office.”

[stormquill]

One Equal Temper | chapter one [V/Reader]

As hell itself wreaks havoc upon your city, an angel lands on your doorstep—one who doesn’t seem to realize he has wings.

Author’s Notes: Follow the blog @one-equal-temper.

Notes: actual, literal footage of V trying to comprehend that someone finds him physically attractive

The flowers kept you going.

Kneeling on your balcony, you pressed a finger to the soil, ensuring the loose earth was damp enough to the touch. Every flower had been misted, their white petals bright against the backdrop of a half-ruined landscape. Their stems were more frail than they were the last time you checked, weakened by a lack of sunlight; the thick fog of clouds blanketing the sky only seemed to be getting worse by the day.

An occasional sound would pierce the silence—the unearthly reverb of a demonic roar, the thunderous collapse of another distant structure to rubble and dust.

The earth had her orbit. You had your routine.

The city could be destroyed if it wanted to be.

Eventually, you looked up from your handiwork, only to be met by a massive demonic bird perched atop your balcony railing.

“Hello,” you said, dumbstruck.

“Heya,” it said back.

The bird’s beak split into three as it spoke, its masculine voice laced with an unnatural echo. His dark, iridescent plumage shined a royal azure beneath the polluted sunlight, boasting stripes of electric blue bright as beetle shells across the length of his feathers.

You tried not to panic. All you had was a spray bottle, and unless you wanted to spritz at him like an unruly housecat, not much could be done if he suddenly decided to tear your face off.

“You’re very beautiful,” you observed.

“Yeah, wish I could say the same about you.” He cocked his head, his eyes a pair of gold beads behind a bony crown. “Soooo. Whatchya doin’ down there?”

“Gardening.”

“Gardening!” he cackled. “Trimmin’ the hedges, even in the apocalypse. Talk about priorities. Look, pal—not sure if you noticed, but your entire city’s gone straight to hell. Last place on earth a human like you should be playin’ around in the dirt.”

You offered an uneasy smile. “You’re not gonna kill me, are you?”

“Ohoho, someone thinks highly of themselves! Nah, you ain’t worth my time. You’re as good as dead hangin’ around a place like this, anyway. Might as well be diggin’ yourself a little grave down there.”

“A grave, huh?” You looked back at the flowerbed with mock concern. “I’m gonna need more soil.”

“You’ve really got no sense of self-preservation, do ya?”

“Now you sound like my surgeon.”

“Whatever, buddy. It’s your funeral.”

With that, the bird took from your railing, sinking away from view with several beats of his great wings.

As you returned to your work and daydreamed about the hypothetical dimensions of a planter large enough to bury yourself in, there was a knock at your door.

Your stomach dropped.

There was a knock. At your door.

You rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a knife with the blind, reckless determination only shown by those who had no idea what they were doing.

More knocks followed—slower, louder than before. You could tell they were using some heavy, blunt object to tap against your apartment door.

You kept several feet between yourself and the locked entrance, as if it were liable to implode at any moment.

“How did you get past the barricade?” you demanded.

“I used the fire escape,” a dark voice answered, with a lilt that sounded almost playful.

You spat out a curse. You’d forgotten about the fire escape.

“Pardon my intrusion,” the stranger continued, “but I couldn’t help but notice those delightful flowers adorning your balcony.”

“You climbed six stories to talk about my plants?”

“Of course. They are deserving of proper compliment, though such curated beauty would not have survived unaided. And, as demons don’t typically make a habit of keeping gardens…”

“You knew someone was here.” You ran a hand through your hair. Not blocking the fire escape, leaving your greenery out in the open—you’d been careless about your continued presence here, and now you were going to pay for it. “You here to kill me, then?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Par for the course for everything else in this fucking city.”

“I assure you, I mean you no harm. I am simply...curious.”

“You know, curiosity didn’t do any favours for the cat.”

“And yet satisfaction still brought it back.”

“What would satisfy you, exactly?”

“A proper introduction.”

The nerve.

Ignoring the pounding of your pulse in your ears, you approached the door to sneak a look through its peephole. The fisheye lens gave you a muddied view of a man in black; he held an open book in one hand and a steel walking stick in the other, the handle of which he must’ve been using to knock on your door.

Whoever he was looked human, at least.

You took a deep breath.

Slowly, carefully, you unlocked the door, keeping the chain lock in place as you inched it open.

The man stood taller than you, slender and well-postured, his dark, sweeping hair looking impossibly soft. Though he was wearing a pair of black jeans, he was shirtless beneath a sleeveless leather coat, showing off tattoos swirling across the pallor of his skin like ink bleeding in water.

You stared up at him through the gap in the door. “And you are?”

Drifting from his book, his eyes met yours—a green so deep they were almost black.

“My name is Wonderful. Inquire not after it, seeing it is a secret.”

“I...what?”

“Just kidding,” he smirked, snapping his book shut. “Call me V.”

You felt like he was telling some kind of joke you weren’t in on.

Trying to hold your nerve, you introduced yourself in return. He repeated after you, and hearing your name in his voice made something warm stir inside your chest.

“Thank you for indulging me,” he said, giving a slight bow of his head. “My apologies for the disruption.”

To your surprise, he turned heel, using his cane to lead himself back down the hallway.

“Wait,” you sputtered, still trying to peek after him through the two-inch gap of the chain-locked door, “where are you going?”

“I’m on a timeline, I’m afraid,” he called back.

Panic set in at the prospect of being alone again, the sudden fear of it rattling like ice in the hollows of your ribcage. You hadn’t seen or spoken to a single living person since the catastrophe started, and the powers that be were gracious enough to dropship you someone who spoke like a poet and dressed like a victorian harlot—who were you to not welcome the distraction?

A fleeting thought had you wondering if vampires were real, too.

(Was that what the ‘V’ stood for? It was a little on-the-nose.)

You unchained the door and swung it open, half-stumbling into the hallway, catching him before he rounded the corner and disappeared from your life, forever.

“Would you like some tea??” you shouted after him.

V stopped in his tracks and turned to face you—you, with your hopeful expression, your knife by your side, your fingertips still caked with garden soil.

He smirked at the sight of you, and your heart skipped a beat.

-

The electricity in your complex had been out for quite some time, but the plumbing was still fully functional: you could fill a kettle with water and light a burner of the gas-powered stove without issue.

“Sorry for being an asshole,” you said from the kitchen. “I’m a little...well, you’re the first thing with the right number of limbs I’ve seen in a week.”

“Do not apologize for your caution,” he replied. “It is what has been keeping you alive, after all.”

V looked a little out of place on your living room couch—such elegance and proper posture sitting amongst a dragon’s hoard of supplies you’d stolen from neighboring apartments. He was surrounded by small hills of plastic water bottles and canned food, but he didn’t seem to pay the mess around him any mind. You noticed he was wearing sandals. Who wore sandals to the apocalypse?

“Have you been here long?” he asked.

You took a seat across from him and tried not to look at his feet. “Since a few days after the incident, I think.”

“Is there a reason for not evacuating with the others?”

“Oh. I, um.” Hesitating for a moment, you pulled back your sleeve and held up your arm, revealing a band still wrapped around your wrist. Why you hadn’t removed it yet, you didn’t know. “I guess you could say I missed the boat.”

He glanced at your wristband, putting two and two together. “You were in the hospital.”

“Car accident. I remember an ambulance, being taken to a room...a lot of it’s hazy, but by the time I came to, everyone was already gone.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you figured simply getting up and walking home was your best chance of survival?”

“I needed to get out of there one way or another.” You tried to laugh it off, but you just ended up sounding terrified. “Those creatures weren’t as rampant then as they are now, but I was still dodging hellspawn armed with a hospital gown and the worst headache of my life. Felt like I was in a fucking horror movie.”

“Impressive. For a civilian,” he amended.

The qualifier annoyed you. You thought it was pretty damn impressive for anyone.

“Only people who aren’t civilians use the word ‘civilian,’” you said, irritated. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I am many things,” he explained, and you wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse. “For one, I am tasked with purging this realm of the evil that’s befallen it.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?”

His expression flickered. “There is...much work to be done.”

“No kidding.” Glancing away, you tried to keep your anxiety about it from being too obvious. You’d still get the occasional mental flash of the monsters you encountered during your escape—too many eyes, too many legs, too many goddamn teeth. “Is it like this everywhere?”

“No, the breakout has been contained to this city alone.” He tilted his head towards you, a sudden glint in his eyes. “Which is precisely what makes your survival so remarkable.”

“Lucky me.”

After your recent series of unfortunate events, suspension of disbelief was a luxury of the past: if this guy had dropped in telling you he was the King of France, you would've swapped his pronouns for ‘Your Majesty’s without a second thought. Deep down, you knew the true, supernatural, cataclysmic magnitude of the situation was far beyond your understanding, but you still couldn’t help but wonder about the man sitting in front of you. With the way he spoke, the way he carried himself...if he really was ‘tasked with purging evil,’ as he put it, maybe he was an angel of some kind.

If demons existed, angels did too, right?

“Thank you,” you started, feeling a sudden wave of humility, “for taking the time to talk to a complete stranger. I’m sure you’ve...y’know. Got more important things to do.”

“You seemed like you needed the company,” he said. “I imagine it gets quite lonely.”

A nervous laugh escaped you. “I just never knew how quiet the world could be.”

“You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. The sentiment resounds doubly for silence.”

You could tell by his tone he was quoting something, but wherever it was from was lost on you.

Until this point, the disasters you witnessed felt like an adrenaline-induced fever dream, mostly because you’d experienced them alone—but being seen, being acknowledged by someone else gave it all a gravity it didn’t have before. As your state of constant terror and survival began to fray at the edges, the full weight of your catastrophe settled somewhere between your shoulder blades, and you felt as if you’d aged the entire week’s events at once.

Eventually, you met his eyes again, and there was a warmth in them that wasn’t there before, as if he, too, had heard the quiet of a barren world and knew just how loud it could be.

“Are you alone?” you asked, finally. “Doing the whole demon-killing thing?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. With regards to the city, my allies and I have chosen to divide and conquer.”

‘Allies,’ he called them. Fellow hunters. You wondered what they were like. Did they all dress and speak like he did? They probably had matching tattoos. And motorcycles.

“And what of you?” he asked. “Do you know anyone who may have escaped the city? Friends? A loved one, perhaps?”

(The way your eyes flickered to your balcony did not escape his notice.)

“No,” you settled on. “Do you? Have any loved ones, I mean.”

He hummed. “Love is but one of many luxuries time has not seen fit to afford me.”

The weight of his statement gave you pause. A handful of words birthed a hundred implications, none of which could be clarified in any marginally polite manner. You hadn’t even known he existed fifteen minutes ago—it wasn’t any of your business, if he’d ever loved anyone before. If he’d ever been loved in turn. If time itself was a mitigating factor, or if he was simply running out of it.

“You seem surprised,” he said, snapping you from your reverie.

“A little.”

“Why?”

At this point, you were sure he was teasing you, just a ploy to trick you into a compliment—you’re impossibly attractive, V, how could you not have the world at your feet—but you found his expression of earnest curiosity catching you completely off-guard.

Did he not recognize himself as someone who could be loved?

The kettle whistled.

You were quick to your feet.

The way he’d looked to you for an answer—it wasn’t a matter of low self-esteem or self-deprecation, it was a moment of sincere confusion from someone who had never considered himself in that light. He was ethereal. Alien. An entity from some other world, some alternate plane, naive to his effect on mortal beings on this earth, and by some horrible twist of fate, the universe saw you fit to be the first to bring it to his attention.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

If he were an angel, there would a very special place in hell, reserved just for you.

You busied yourself in the kitchen for much longer than necessary, in an effort to put as much space between you and the conversation as possible. As you had no milk or cream to speak of, and the sugar was already in its own little jar, you spent an agonizing four minutes rifling through the cupboards, pretending to decide between tea mugs as if it were the single most important decision of your life.

By the time you returned to the living room, V was reading. You could see his book more clearly, now, bound in brown hardcover and embellished with gold embroidery.

“Is that your journal?” you asked, setting a mug down in front of him.

“A collection of poetry.” He smiled a little, pointing to his initial on the cover. “Fifth volume.”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking. You found yourself returning his smile, anyway.

Keeping your cup in your hands, you slid back into the seat across from him. “Will you read to me?”

“No need to fear, I will spare you the tedium.”

“No, I mean.” You looked everywhere, anywhere but him. “I—I’d like to hear it.”

He glanced askance at you from above the edge of his book, but your slightly-flustered look of interest eased his suspicions at once. To his pleasant surprise, you were being serious.

“Well then,” he teased, a slight smirk curling at the edge of his lips, “since you asked so politely.”

You wrapped your fingers around your steaming mug to keep yourself from fidgeting. You watched his slender fingers turn the pages, slow and deliberate, until he found what he was searching for.

And he spoke.

“Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care,

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.”

He continued on, speaking as if his voice wouldn’t still your heart to silence, glancing up between verses as if the deep green of his eyes wouldn’t make you feel like you were drowning.

He was enchanting.

And you were in trouble.

[morallydraconequus]

Gordon in Wonderland, Ch 3: A familiar face at a Caucus race.

Gordon remembered that one time Thomas wanted to fly. Well, Gordon could clearly state that he hated his experience of flying, and flying in general.

“I have no idea how Harold can get used to this. I'd rather be stuck on rails than this horrid flying.”

The cloud was getting bigger and turning into a dark grey tone. The tiny blue engine - Gordon would prefer big instead of tiny but it didn't seem appropriate in this situation - felt a drop of rain on his face. In fact, his body felt like he was soaked in water.

“If the steam is water that is evaporated, it'll be light enough to form a cloud. If the cloud becomes heavy so will the steam and soon, it’ll turn back into water. Which will mean it will rain soon… and I'll fall along with the rain!”

As he deduced, Gordon began to drop down.

Unlike the hole, Gordon could tell that it wouldn't be such a long fall... but a much harder landing.

Instead of cold, hard earth that would shatter Gordon into pieces - do note that Gordon’s imagination had got the better of him - he landed on fluffy pile of feathers. The pile was actually a bird, however Gordon wasn’t even sure what species it was.

The bird squawked in surprise, causing Gordon to fall onto the ground. Luckily, he landed perfectly on his wheels but Gordon couldn't say that he’d felt any pain. The bird wasn’t as lucky. Distracted, it crashed - not very gracefully - on to the ground. Having realised that he didn’t rely on tracks at the moment, Gordon chuffed up to the animal. His friends barely see Gordon’s sympathetic side, but those feelings did exist in Gordon.

“Are you alright?” he asked, hoping for any sign of life. He would feel very guilty if there were none, but it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“I was, until you crashed into me!” snapped the bird as it struggled to retain its posture. It appeared to be an eagle with navy and indigo feathers but the voice - particularly his accent - made it very easy for Gordon to identify.

“Vinnie?!” gasped Gordon. The eagle was indeed some version of the North-American engine from the Great Railway Show. He wasn’t too familiar with Vinnie, but he had heard enough from the other engines. Specifically Thomas and Phillip, who weren’t too fond of the bully.

The rude bird only responded with a wary eye, staring at Gordon.

“What are you?” demanded Vinnie. If he had asked ‘Who are you?’ instead of ‘What are you?’, Gordon wouldn’t be so offended. “What am I? Pardon me, but would you like it if I asked the same question in that tone? I would’ve said that you’re a brainless buffalo with those manners!”

“How dare you call me a brainless buffalo, you insect!” growled Vinnie - though Gordon wasn’t sure how birds could growl. The eagle’s shadow surrounded the tiny engine as Vinnie prepared to attack. “You’ll pay for that.”

Before Gordon could move, Vinnie was suddenly smacked away to the side, causing another embarrassing fall.

“Vinnie! How many times do I have to tell you to be nice?”

The creature that saved Gordon was an magenta elephant with floral decorations, which reminded him of another engine from the Great Railway Show.

“Ashima?”

The elephant smiled gently at Gordon, as if to calm down a frightened and shy animal. Gordon was more confused than frightened.

“Well, what’s your name little one?” Ashima asked politely. However, Gordon didn’t like being labeled ‘little’.

“My name is Gordon. And if you wish to know what I am, I’m a steam engine.” Gordon explained, so that there was no misunderstanding.

“A steam engine?” asked Vinnie, who was recovering from a hard fall, “You looked like a funny caterpillar to me. Why are you so small? And how did you hit me in the sky?”

Vinnie was going to make a further remark, but he saw Ashima raised her trunk as if she warning the bird to choose his words carefully, and he was wise enough to not say anymore.

“I’m actually very big in my real size,” explained Gordon, “Apparently, I shrink or grow depending on how much water I have in my boiler. And right now, my boiler is empty.”

“Ah, then I can help.” Ashima placed her trunk in a nearby lake to suck up the water. She then withdrew it and sprayed Gordon with water, being careful not to make the tiny engine fly away with too much force.

Gordon did not appreciate how his boiler had been filled, but grateful for the kind action; he remained silent.

Gordon’s boiler wasn’t very full, but he grew until he was half of Ashima’s height. He decided that his current size would have to do for now, but was glad that he was bigger than Vinnie. At least he could have some dignity. The eagle was not intimidated whatsoever.

“Well, we better hurry to the meeting.” said Ashima. “We’re not bringing him along, are we?” grumpily asked Vinnie. Gordon did not like that he was referred in such a grim tone.

“We might as well Vinnie. Flying Dodo might want to meet Gordon.” reasoned Ashima.

“Who?”

“Some flightless bird who’s somehow in charge of our meetings,” explained Vinnie, “If they had to pick a leader they should’ve chose me.”

‘I can see why they didn’t.’ thought Gordon. “If he can’t fly, why is he called ‘Flying Dodo’?”

“He’s actually very fast, surprisingly. He believes that he flies because of the wind rushing through his feathers, thus, he won’t respond to any other name except ‘Flying Dodo’.” Ashima answered.

When the three arrived to the supposed meeting, there were a number of animals who resembled competitors from the Great Railway Show.

Axel of Belgium was a lion with black fur and a red mane with yellow streaks.

Carlos of Mexico was a silver and black hawk.

Etienne appeared to be a blue rooster with a white and red crest.

Frieda, like Vinnie, was an eagle except that she had blue feathers that have a yellow tip at the ends.

Beside Frieda was a small green wolf, Gordon assumed that the wolf was Gina.

A huge, bulky bear with red and blue fur with white stripes seemed similar to the Russian engine, Ivan.

A peacock with blue feathers and white, orange and green tail was wearing a crown identical to Rajiv’s.

Raul of Brazil seemed to be another big cat - probably a Jaguar - with yellow, green and blue fur. The fur colour made it hard for Gordon to tell what exactly Raul was.

The Australian engine, Shane, was a gold and green emu - though Gordon expected him to be a kangaroo.

Yong Bao clearly stood out the most, he was a Chinese dragon with scales matching the colours of his paintwork.

A silver kestrel - who Gordon recognised as his cousin, Spencer - glared at him.

“Ashima, Vinnie, what have you brought here?” Spencer questioned with distaste. Gordon was not happy being referred as ‘what’ rather than ‘who’ again.

“I’m-” “I do not recall asking you to speak!” interrupted Spencer. He was as rude and pompous as Vinnie! Gordon wondered if the other engines saw Gordon as the screechy silver bird.

“Ignore Spencer, he always acts as if he’s in charge without Flying Dodo around,” pardoned Ashima, “He is a steam engine named Gordon. He changes size depending on how much water he has consumed. Vinnie and I found him while we were on our way here.”

“Though I suggested we abandoned him first.” muttered Vinnie. This did not escape Ashima’s ears.

“After I stopped you from attacking poor Gordon! He ran out of water and you tried to attack him whilst he was so small!”

This caused a commotion amongst the herd.

“Silence! What is all the fuss about?”

They all went silent as a new creature joins them. Gordon knew that voice immediately. “It can’t be him.”

The creature is revealed to be a vermillion dodo who strode in with such confidence that even Spencer and Vinnie had shut their beaks.

“Flying Scotsman?!” exclaimed Gordon. The dodo chuckled at Gordon’s shocked expression. “Flying ‘Dodo’, dear lad. A pleasure to meet you, little Gordon.”

Gordon was aware that the water in his boiler diminished by quite a lot, to the point he had shrunk down to be three quarters of Flying Dodo’s height. It had either been a long journey, or the water evaporated faster than usual.

“Excuse me, but I do not take being called ‘little’ very kindly.” “My apologies! And what’s this about Vinnie trying to attack our innocent friend?”

Vinnie straightened up. “He fell from the sky and the vile little thing crashed into me!”

“It was by accident! If I had control of my landing, I wouldn’t have crashed into you at all.” rebutted Gordon.

“He’s anything but innocent! He called me ‘bird-brain’! He’s guilty!” Vinnie claimed.

The members who had wings gasped at the word, ‘bird-brain’. Gordon was very certain he said ‘brainless buffalo’ instead.

“If anyone’s guilty, it’s you for attacking another animal,” scoffed Flying Dodo, Gordon decided to let the fact that he was not an animal to slide, “I made this very clear every meeting. ‘All animals are equal. All animals are our friends and allies. No animal should harm another on purpose.’”

“But let’s not forget that ‘Bird-brain’ is a very awful insult to those who have wings.” reminded Frieda. “Almost like a crime.” said Shane. “It is crime!” cried Rajiv. “A crime indeed!” added Carlos. “Hear, hear!” agreed Etienne.

‘The nerve of him!’ thought Gordon as he saw a hidden smile on Vinnie. ‘He’s trying to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit!’

“Is this true, Gordon?” queried the dodo, “If it is, I’m afraid we will have to punish those who commit crimes.”

“Actually, he didn’t,” interrupted Ashima, “Mind you that I have very good hearing and Gordon did not insult Vinnie with that horrid slur. But I did hear him say a ‘brainless bull’.”

“I think we could let that slide,” said Ivan. “Bulls aren’t very bright so that statement is true.”

“And by the looks of this, said statement was used as a line of defence.” spoke Axle.

“Which justifies the statement.” included Yong Bao.

“But Vinnie’s charges shouldn’t be dismissed.” uttered Raul.

“Time to announce the verdict, Flying Dodo.” responded Gina.

“Well then, by this testimony of Ashima the elephant, I announce Gordon the steam engine innocent and our new comrade. Vinnie the bald eagle, however, is found guilty of attacking another creature on purpose.” concluded Flying Dodo.

Spencer swooped in front of Flying Dodo and landed on Gordon’s funnel, much to his disdain.

“If I may Flying Dodo,” spoke the kestrel, “I’m afraid that Vinnie has some anger issues, thus he wasn’t in his right mind. The proper solution is to help him control his temper and in order to do that, you need to pardon him first.”

“It seems that you’re right,” agreed Flying Dodo, “By this testimony of Spencer the kestrel, Vinnie the bald eagle is pardoned.”

The rest rolled their eyes and sighed as if this had happened frequently. Gordon could see that Vinnie and Spencer were partners in crime, easily fooling the dodo who wasn’t a smart creature.

“Well, that’s settled. Back to the agenda-” Gordon blew his whistle, frightening Spencer as he cried in shock and fluttered off Gordon’s funnel. “Whoops! Forgot you were sitting there, Spencer.” Everyone but Vinnie and Spencer laughed at the embarrassed silver kestrel who haughtily walked on the ground. “Forgotten, my tail feathers.” Spencer mumbled angrily.

“Anyways, time to make a note of those who aren’t present today,” said Flying Dodo,

“Shankar the tiger.” “He sends his apologies but he has to help take care of the cubs with Noor Jehan.” replied Rajiv.

“Tamika the Koala.” “She’s had a rough day so I decided to let her sleep in. She’s nocturnal after all.” spoke Shane. “Aubrey and Aiden the wallabies and Isla the cockatoo couldn’t make either.”

“Hong Mei the Ibis.” “Hong Mei, Lei the crane, An An and Yin-Long the pandas were slowed down by a recent storm. They send their regards.” reported Yong Bao.

“And I of course have come in the place of Beau the Bison.” said Vinnie.

“The last animal who isn’t present is Hiro the pheasant.” “We haven’t heard anything from him,” answered Ashima.

“He’s probably hanging around with that old barn owl in the forest,” muttered Spencer, “This owl himself prefers to not come at all. Vinnie and I barely got his name because of his silly mind games and riddles, only Hiro was able to coax him out. Though we almost never see him outside of the forest.”

“Very well,” continued the dodo, “This weather has been very odd lately, it has rained longer than usual and we’re all still dripping with water.”

Gordon knew that the ‘odd weather’ was from his own doing but remained quiet.

“We’ll have to come up with something to dry ourselves. And no Rajiv, you won’t be reciting that long poem about the crown on your head for us to hear until we’re dry. We all know how you found it.”

The peacock slumped sadly.

“How did he find that crown?” Gordon whispered to Ashima. “He got caught by some thieves but escaped with the crown and he calls that poem ‘The Grand and Wide Tale’ which was named after his own tail.”

“I’ve got it!” announced Flying Dodo, “We’ll have a caucus race! This will definitely help us dry ourselves. And there will be a prize for the winner!”

The interests of the herd had perked up, especially Gordon. In no time at all, everyone was waiting behind the line until the caucus race started. Though, Gordon had no idea what the dodo meant by a ‘caucus’ race. Gordon heard the word once when he overheard a conversation about politics once but what did it have to do with races, he wondered.

Thankfully, Ashima filled more water into his boiler so that he was big enough to race, slightly smaller than his original height but it would have to do. Racing was a part of Gordon’s interests, he did admit that he liked to show off once in a while. Obviously, Spencer and Vinnie would be trying to beat Gordon at his own game, as he could tell from the glares they shot him.

“Ready, set, go!” cried Flying Dodo. On cue, Gordon chuffed as fast as he can, building up on speed. He was half-way to the finish line and didn’t see any other racers come past him.

“This is such an easy race!” Gordon muttered under his breath. But then he saw the progress of the others.

Some were jogging, a few were simply prancing about while chatting and the rest hadn’t even crossed the line yet! They were all going at whatever pace and went whenever they fancied, as if they didn’t care much about getting first place. Flying Dodo was riding upon Ashima’s back and she didn’t even mind. “The wind is flowing through my feathers,” he spoke to Ashima, “I’m flying!” “Yes you are, I can easily see that.” agreed Ashima, who was too kind to point out the truth.

“What on earth…” Gordon was stunned at the sight and slowed down due to the lack of competition in this race. “Maybe this is what he meant by a ‘caucus’ race.” The engine mumbled.

Taking Gordon by surprise, a blur of blue and silver rushed passed him. “See you at the finish line, insect.” mocked Vinnie while Spencer chortled like an entitled, wealthy snob. Gordon had seen many ‘snobs’ in his younger years, ignoring the fact that he used to act like one when he was much younger.

Vinnie’s insult brought Gordon’s attention to his own size, he was shrinking so much. “I must have used a lot of water! I can’t let them win but refilling my boiler will take too much time. When my water runs out, I’ll be too slow!” Coincidentally, Ashima and Flying Dodo were by Gordon’s side, aware of his dilemma. “You can always catch a ride with us.” suggested Ashima. “A wonderful idea! Climb aboard Gordon! You can fly with me!” added Flying Dodo.

Gordon had concocted a plan to beat the two birds at their own game.

“Fly… Ashima, grab me with your trunk and throw me towards the finish line as far and as hard as you can.”

The pink elephant was puzzled but complied. “Are you sure about this? You might get hurt.” “I can take it. I have my safety valve on.” Gordon reassured, knowing that neither of them knew what a safety valve was really for.

“If he has a safety thingy, I’ll allow it.” announced the dodo.

Ashima swung her trunk back and forth to create momentum. With an underarm, or rather undertrunk throw, Gordon was launched high up in the air but not too high. As he zoomed past Spencer and Vinnie, they both lost their coordination for a bit from shock. “Flying steam-engine, coming through!” he shouted with a smile. The two birds flew faster with determination to defeat the engine at the race. “I’m not losing to you a second time, insect.” grumbled Vinnie.

Gordon lost his smug grin as he forgot one part of the plan, the landing. As his body was directed towards the finish line and the ground, Gordon began to regretted his decision and closed his eyes for certain impact. He would for sure shatter in shards like he thought before, or even dig into the earth and be stuck there for the rest of his life! Again, the engine in peril exaggerated his thoughts of his demise.

Spencer flew closer to the ground in hopes of crossing the line first. “I’ll show that shrinking engine-thing who’s better.” he vowed.

“I, Gordon the not-so-big-at-the-moment engine, will leave my express to-” Gordon’s rushed will was interrupted by another familiar landing on feathers. He bounced off and made it across the line safely. The bird that he landed on this time was Spencer, who had unfortunately tumbled the rest of the way after Gordon, followed by Vinnie and the rest of the animals.

They were all waiting for Flying Dodo to announce the winner and the promised prize, especially Gordon who had won first place despite Spencer was moaning how he crossed it first until Gordon made him face-plant.

“I now declare that the winner is…” Flying Dodo made a dramatic pause to the surprise of no one.

“Everyone!”

“What?!” exclaimed Gordon and Spencer in sync. “Everyone’s a winner in their own way.” explained the dodo. The rest aside from Vinnie and Spencer agreed with smiles and congratulating each other. Gordon joined in reluctantly.

“So I literally threw myself to cross the line first for nothing.” “Technically Ashima threw you but it wasn’t for nothing,” Flying Dodo grinned as if he had another position to give, “Since you came first, you can give out the prizes!”

Spencer smirked at Gordon’s nervous expression. “Good luck with that.”

After a minute of mumbling and thinking, Gordon finally spoke.

“As the one who has no gifts or trinkets to give away, I have something better for your rewards. I will grant each of you a title to your name.”

“What good are those titles? What’s wrong with our names?” rudely asked a disappointed Vinnie.

“Having a little object would probably rot or rust away, a title lasts forever.” answered Gordon, satisfied as the rest of the animals agreed with him.

“Ashima, I grant thee the title of ‘Ashima the Kind and Helpful’.”

“Axel, I grant thee the title of ‘Axel the Calmly-Collected’.”

“Carlos, I grant thee the title of ‘Carlos the Happy-Hearted’.”

“Etienne, I grant thee the title of ‘Etienne the Polite and Mature’.”

“Frieda, I grant thee the title of ‘Frieda the Confidently-Strong’.”

“Gina, I grant thee the title of ‘Gina the Sweetly-Swift’.”

“Ivan, I grant thee the title of ‘Ivan the Comedic and Friendly’.”

“Rajiv, I grant thee the title of ‘Rajiv the Beautifully-Caring’.”

“Raul, I grant thee the title of ‘Raul the Spiritedly-Eager’.”

“Shane, I grant thee the title of ‘Shane the Devoted and Carefree’.”

“Yong Bao, I grant thee the title of “Yong Bao the Faithfully-Inspiring’.”

Honestly, Gordon mimicked how the Queen would give someone knighthood, thus he used ‘thee’ instead of ‘you’. He also created the titles based on what he knew about them from the Great Railway Show. He hesitated at giving Spencer and Vinnie’s title, unsure what to give them without offending them in any way.

“Spencer… I grant thee the title of ‘Spencer the Proudly-Egotistic’. Egotistic is a special word for very confident.” Spencer didn’t seem to be offended at all and accepted it. Thankfully for Gordon, Spencer bought into his definition of ‘egotistic’.

“And Vinnie… I grant thee the title of ‘Vinnie the Competitively-Speedy’.”

Vinnie had also accepted his title, but Gordon glimpsed a small smile on his face. Evidently, Vinnie would not have fallen for such a trick.

“What title should I have?” asked Flying Dodo. “I do like my title now.”

“What about we just add something to it?” suggested Gordon, “How about…”

Gordon thought about his own brother, “ ‘Flying Dodo the Grandly-Optimistic Leader’?”

“I like that title very much!” agreed the dodo.

“Flying Dodo, I grant thee the title of ‘Flying Dodo the Grandly-Optimistic Leader’.”

“What title should Gordon have?” Ashima (the Kind and Helpful) wondered. “We’ll give him his title.” Shane (the Devoted and Carefree) proposed.

All the animals, excluding Spencer (the Proudly-Egotistic) and Vinnie (the Competitively-Speedy) who both just remained silent, cheered in agreement.

They all huddled up to discuss the title for Gordon. When they dispersed, Flying Dodo (the Grandly-Optimistic Leader) puffed his feathers with pride.

“Gordon, we, the animals of this meeting grant thee the title, ‘Gordon the Greatly-Wonderful Steam-Engine’!”

After hearing his title, Gordon felt a spark of a rare emotion. He didn’t recall the emotion’s name, but he liked it. He felt thankful. He felt like his fictional heart - fictional because engines don’t have physical hearts - had warmed up.

“My, thank you.” Gordon was basically speechless.

“You’re welcome.” Frieda (the Confidently-Strong) replied.

“I think I can declare this meeting dismissed.” Flying Dodo (the Grandly-Optimistic Leader) announced.

Gordon then remembered why he was caught in this mess.

“Excuse me, Ashima. Do you know Per- I mean, a rabbit?” Gordon stopped himself from saying ‘Percy’ in case that wasn’t his name in this world, or the name of someone else Ashima knows.

“A rabbit? I know a lot of rabbits, but none of them come to the meetings. Could you be more specific.”

“Well, he’s not completely a rabbit. He’s an engine like me but a bit shorter and he lacks a tender. He’s green but was more gold and red the last I saw him and had ears and a tail of a rabbit. He moves quite quickly.”

“Strange… I did see a green creature rushing towards that way when I went to the meeting. Perhaps that’s the ‘rabbit’ you seek.” Ashima answered, pointing her trunk to a path that disappeared into a forest.

Before Gordon left, Ashima filled his boiler until he was about his normal size, slightly bigger to be exact.

“Thank you Ashima. Goodbye!” “Farewell Gordon! Good luck!” Ashima called after Gordon chuffed his way into the forest, following the dirt path beneath him.

Authors note:

The caucus race isn’t really highlighted in the Disney film, however, I couldn’t leave behind the concept of a race where everyone went at whatever speed and whenever they like.

Thanks for @mystarsignisno for editing this chapter!