#it's been a strange day for geoff

[thestuffedalligator]

The capital-P Point of Frankenstein is that the creature is a blank slate. Tabula rasa. He's an Adam who was foresworn by his creator with no understanding of the world, and has to slowly, bitterly, painstakingly develop that understanding.

It's a literary choice made as part of the grander allegory that does not need to be interpreted literally by a modern lens. Mary Shelley was writing a fiction and it's not important that it's not how bringing a brain back to life would actually. Y'know. Work.

That being said, there's untapped comedy and horror in a retelling of Frankenstein where the creature does have his previous life's memories.

[warping-realities]

Keeping Up With Old Friends (by the best of all @dumb-and-jocked & @callmecallmecrazy

It's a great pleasure to make images for this collaboration between two of my favorite authors. I had permission from both of them to do this and I spent a considerable amount of time trying to be up to par with their work, I don't know if I managed it but I still hope it's to your liking.

“Phil? Is that you?” Geoff could’ve sworn the man in front of him was an old classmate of his, having been lab partners their freshman year. The two had connected fairly well, with Geoff having hung out with the free-thinking, pot-smoking, curly-haired flower child a lot more than he thought he would. Except, scruffy and shaggy Phil was replaced with tailored-beard and straightened-locks Phil. Not only that, but his usual oversized hoodie and sweats had been replaced with a properly fit tee and jeans.

“Geoff! Hey man, how’s it going.” His voice was still the same lively and flamboyant pitch that it had always been. Phil met his friend in a hug over the cash register, squeezing Geoff a little harder than he had been prepared for.

“Surprised to see you here,” Geoff half-joked, knowing that the old Phil would never come close to a shopping mall, let alone a department store. If the job wasn’t so easy and the pay wasn’t so good, Geoff wouldn’t have ever entered either. Too bad college was so expensive.

“Ha! Yeah man, turns out they have some good stuff! Plus, it’s close to where I live.”

“Oh, did you finally move out of the dorms?”

“Yeah, I moved into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house.” The big smile he offered was met by a wide-eyed stare from Geoff. Phil was a free spirit, one who practically came out of the ‘60s. Last they’d talked, he’d been planning on living at an eco-friendly miniature house, certainly not at “prespter-prick incorporated”.

“What happened to living green?”

“Ya know, I wanted a change.” Phil shoved his hands into his pockets. “Plus, college loans are really bringing me down. I needed to save some money and fast. My uncle got me an in with the fraternity; he’s an alum.”

“Aren’t they, like, totally pretentious?” Geoff countered. “We used to joke about those preppy freaks and their smug arrogance.” 

Phil frowned, his expression made it seem as if he’d taken personal offense.

“Hey man, they’re cool. After my uncle had pointed out that I was a legacy, I got headhunted by the rush chair.  I’m not one of those over-confident princes having yacht parties and spending time at the country club.” Geoff’s tense muscles eased a little, causing Phil to smile. “I don’t think they do that kinda stuff anymore anyway.”  

He glanced at his phone, and then back at Geoff. Getting the message, Geoff quickly processed his items and had Phil pay. He was surprised to see Phil was buying more normal clothes. Cheap, standard tops and bottoms that were neither flamboyant or tame: just generic.

“Hey man, great seeing you,” Phil concluded the conversation politely. “Maybe we’ll hang out sometime? I gotta get back to the house!”

Geoff watched Phil walk out, noticing how well he filled out his jeans. The Phil he knew had been a short, skinny beanpole, similar to Geoff’s height but with less pudge. However, the new Phil’s buttocks had developed a sort of plumpness, just barely curving the pants out awkwardly as he walked away. 

“That was so strange,” Geoff said aloud, but he assumed that people changed. Phil seemed happy and healthy, and as long as he was saving money Geoff was happy for him. Maybe he always wanted to join a frat?

For the rest of his shift, Geoff continued thinking about the peculiar interaction, but by the end of the day he was too exhausted to think about anything. Once he had gotten back to his dorm, he lethargically changed and jumped into his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

— —

“Phil? Is that you?” The big man standing in front of the counter didn’t exactly physically resemble Phil. He was fairly big at about 5 ‘10 (a few inches taller than Phil) and the Henley shirt he wore couldn’t hide the beginnings of bulging pecs. And his hair, last time uncoiled but still at shoulder-length, was sheared down, pushed up, and shiny from cheap gel. The face was still the same, even though the hair made his face look a little square.

The young man looked back at Geoff confused for a moment before a tinge of understanding glittered in his eyes.

“Geoff Elliot,” his voice was noticeably slower and deeper than last time. While Geoff went in for a hug, Phil replied with a one-armed embrace and pat on the back. He practically grimaced when Geoff attempted for more affection.

“Phil! Man, it’s been awhile. I haven’t seen you since your last time here.”

“Yes, Geoff, I’ve been very busy with school. And please, call me Phillip, it’s more traditional.”

“Wow, still living with the Kappa Sigmas?”

“Yes, I’ve been acquainting very well. What about you, Geoff?”

“Oh ya know, I’m still in old Walker. It isn’t great, but it’s definitely got a sweet spot in the middle of campus.”

“Living comfortably?”

“Ha, you know I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Phillip noted Geoff’s pale skin and tired eyes. Geoff was taken aback by the outright disdain.

“Well, I’ve got to work if I want to get a degree.” Phillip just nodded, causing Geoff to carry the conversation. “You’re looking good. Do the Kappa Sigmas expect gym time?”

“Yes,” Phillip’s stern demeanor dropped a touch, allowing a bit more levity in his voice. “There’s an expansive gym at the country club. It’s free and they even give you a few hours a day to use it!” 

He was practically giddy as he talked, allowing Geoff to relax a bit. This was the Phil he knew, chirpy and friendly though now not as exceptionally outgoing. And if Geoff was being honest, Phil seemed extremely content with his new situation. 

“Have you picked up any sports? It seems like you’ve got the bod now,” Geoff joked, knowing that Phil hated physical activity. He playfully slapped one of Phil’s broad shoulders and was shocked at how firm the muscle was.

“I’ve been doing a lot of golf! I play with several of the other guys and even some of my uncle’s coworkers. I’m getting my handicap down too.”

“Oh, you’re playing golf?” Geoff hadn’t expected an answer, but if one came he would’ve guessed football or baseball–not golf.

“Yes, it’s very enjoyable. And great for business bonding. Chance for us men to talk about the frat, women, sports and the like. Say, you watch the game last weekend?”

That was wholly unlike Phil, but Geoff guessed he was probably throwing himself into the fraternity world.

“Nah, man, I’m not into basketball.”

“It’s football season.” His reply was so direct and unvarnished that Geoff had to grip the counter for support. “I know not everyone is into the NFL, but I assumed you would at least watch like any other man. And our team is having an exceptionally great season. 4-0 in conference play.”

Phillip kept talking about football as Geoff stared deep into his eyes. Was this really Phil? The guy used to pretend like he didn’t know what sports were. What was happening to him?

“Anyway, Geoff, it’s been great catching up,” Phillip said, dumping his items onto the register. Geoff was surprised to notice that Phil was purchasing only name brand items. Not expensive, but not generic either. “Maybe we can grab some beers and watch a game sometime.” 

Phillip hastily paid for all of his items and walked out. Geoff couldn’t help but notice the increasingly larger derrière. His buttocks had developed a shelf-like quality, curving the cheap khakis out as he walked away. Its slight jiggling motion was a stunning contrast to the hard muscle covering the rest of his body.

“Yeah, great to see you Phil-lip,” Geoff forced out the last syllable. This was not the Phil he knew, but instead some dude named Phillip. Geoff continued on with the rest of his shift, the interaction slipping from his mind at the end of the day when he collapsed into bed.

— —

“Phil? Is that you? I mean, Phillip?” Geoff had hoped he wouldn’t see him again after their last encounter, but when he saw this barely-familiar-looking man his curiosity got the best of him. He told himself it was all in his head, but everything about these encounters were disturbing. Geoff wasn’t sure if it was steroids as his former buddy’s growth seemed extremely quick, but it could’ve just been the sudden makeover too. What was even crazier was the man next to him was somehow larger.

This Phillip was 6’4 and wore a baby blue oxford button-up with a yellow and blue striped repp tie. The shirt looked ready to burst as it was tight against the two firm mounds sticking out of the young man’s chest. On top of the set was a two-button navy blazer with the letters KE on the left side, which Geoff assumed stood for Kappa Sigma. His hair was much different, for the overgrown shag was now neatly cut, with short sides and tapered across the crown. The ivy league was sharply parted on the left side and held sturdily in place by an expensive looking pomade. Not only had his hair transformed, but his face had undergone a dramatic change too. His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, spread wide and hung low, giving his face a distinguished lantern shape to match his newly-cleft chin. 

This Phillip stood ramrod straight while searching through a rack of new suits from Brooks Brothers. The man next to Phillip was older but otherwise nearly identical. He was thicker around the middle, but any gut he might have was hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His tie was black and grey with a subtle windowpane pattern, and his suit shared a similar palette.

The other man stared at Geoff for a moment before tapping Phillip on the shoulder.

“Pierson,” his voice was slow and deep. “I believe this boy is trying to get your attention.” 

The younger man turned towards the counter to see Geoff. A faint bit of recognition crossed his face momentarily.

“Geoff Elliot.” The voice was practically monotone, low and deep. He took a few powerful steps forward and offered a large, coarse handshake.

“Uncle,” Phillip turned to face the older man. “This is a friend from college, Geoff Elliot. Geoff, this is my uncle.” He gestured robotically between the two. The uncle offered his hand and it was the same rough shake.

“Nice to meet you…” Geoff sort of trailed off, hoping to get a first name.

“John Howard Johnson.” The reply was colorless. “Mr. Johnson will do.”

“Alright,” Geoff simply replied. “So, Phillip-”

“Please call me Pierson,” Phillip said curtly. “My uncle thinks I would be better suited professionally as Pierson.” The way he spoke, extremely even in both rhythm and pitch, was unnerving.

Geoff could make out some of Phil’s features in the hulking face before him. An upturned nose and naturally thin eyebrows over wide eyes resembled the Phil he knew. But the rest of the face clearly belonged to this cocky fratboy named Pierson.

“Okay, Pierson. So, any news about Greek Life?”

“I am very happy with the Kappa Sigmas. Life there is perfectly preppy.”

“That’s great. Glad to hear you’re doing good!”

“Yes, my uncle believes after college I will be an ideal candidate for his company, Hemplebaum Inc..”

“That place downtown with office drones filling foreclosures and manipulating bank accounts?”

“Correct,” Pierson stated blatantly.

“Huh, okay.” Geoff was getting sick of this conversation, and of this act. There was obviously something going on here, so he decided to just ask about it flat out.

“How long are you going to keep this up, Phil?”

“Pierson.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Geoff retorted. He knew it probably wasn’t best to argue with customers during his shift, but this was more important than a job. “How are you willing to sell your soul to some frat? We used to joke about these guys! Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I’m offended by your tone, Geoff. And honestly,” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves while disgustingly eyeing Geoff’s uniform. “I grew up. You could do with some growing.”

“You’ve grown into a mindless fratboy.”

“And you, Geoff, are still a child. We ‘mindless fratboys’ are very well groomed and dressed. We speak with clarity and courtesy, and are diligent and helpful. We truly represent the apex of manhood.”

“Pierson,” Mr. Johnson suddenly interrupted the argument. Pierson stiffened up and faced his uncle. “I’m glad you had this chance to catch up with your acquaintance, but we have wasted time.”

“Of course, Uncle.” 

They turned to leave, but Pierson swiftly reached into a blazer pocket and pulled out a thick black card. 

“If you ever decide to grow up.” Pierson placed it on the register before he and his uncle left, giving Geoff a good look at their backsides. Despite the broad shoulders and bulging pectorals, both had a distinctly pear shaped body, with wide hips and massive butts that shook just a touch as they walked. Pierson’s rump was especially luscious, bouncing around inside those tight, pastel madras shorts. It gave Geoff a boner as he watched it wiggle. Sure, the man was the monster that replaced his old friend, but he had to admit the new douchebag look was kind of hot.

Geoff grabbed the card from the counter and examined it. It was a thick card stock and slightly textured with the Greek letters obnoxiously large in one corner. Right in the middle read “Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” infuriating Geoff. That was absolutely not his last name, in fact none of those were his names! Had he changed his entire personality to fit in with these people?  Had Phil been putting on a fake persona the entire time he was in college? Was this who he truly was? Geoff calmed himself down before reasoning that the name changing was a deeper sign. This whole thing had become so ridiculous he couldn’t just ignore it. He’d have to do some investigating.

— —

“This is Pierson Buckley Folsom VI.” 

Geoff didn’t actually want to go through with his plan, but he had to make an attempt. If he could insert himself safely into this Pierson’s friend group, he might just be able to figure out what happened to Phil. Sure, Geoff wasn’t really built for the whole undercover thing, but he owed it to his old friend. Plus, Geoff knew if he let the matter sit, it would just continue to haunt him.

“Hey, Pierson. This is Geoff.” 

“Hello Geoff, how may I assist you?” He was already straight to the point.

“Well, you know I was thinking about what you said back in the mall. Growing up and all that stuff.”

“Ah,” Pierson’s stale voice came from the other end. “I assume you are interested in becoming a Kappa Sigma then?”

“Yes.” Geoff swallowed before continuing, “I would like to become a Kappa Sigma.”

“If that is so,” Pierson began monotonously. “We have a rush event this weekend at the Rolling Acres Country Club. Come golfing this weekend, I know you will enjoy it.”

“That sounds exciting!” It totally did not. He did not want to go to a rush event in the most posh, expensive neighborhood in the city. “What do I need to wear? I’m sure they have a dress code.”

“Meet me at the Kappa Sigma house before. I will have appropriate clothing.”

“Sounds good, thank you for your help, Pierson.”

“You are welcome, Geoff.” 

And just like that, the plan was in motion. This weekend, Geoff would be infiltrating enemy territory, so it was now time to do some research. He didn’t want to be suspicious, but as far as he could tell, the only person who thought something was amiss was him.

— —

The Kappa Sigma Alpha house was a well-built, classic home that looked like it belonged in Connecticut or somewhere else classy. The elegant mansion was extremely large, just like all of its brothers. It was so huge in fact that it had a room strictly dedicated for watching football, and that wasn’t even the media room! According to Pierson, there was a room with a movie projector on another floor. The football room was just a man cave according to him, except it was a sunlit, high-ceilinged game room. It was about five times bigger than the dorm Geoff was currently living in, which was only half the size of Pierson’s room.  

When Pierson had answered the door, he was dressed in a full monochromatic suit.

Geoff had expected something more casual, so he was wearing a faded pair of khakis and a plaid button-up. Geoff’s bulkier counterpart was intensely embarrassed by his attire and insisted he put on one of his old suits. Geoff thought about protesting, but instead allowed it. He fit quite well in it, as Pierson’s old suit was from Phil’s era. Geoff hated the whole dress-up ordeal, but he needed to fit in as much as possible, and to do that he would have to do everything Pierson said. 

“Are we going golfing in suits?” Geoff asked innocently, unsure if they’d actually be participating in the sport.

“That’s absurd!” Pierson remarked, his tone just barely leaving its usual flat level as he dodged the question. “We will be changing at the club.”

Geoff couldn’t imagine how most people showed up dressed like this, but he would do whatever made Pierson comfortable. And apparently, the change had been necessary. After they got past the gate and into the main clubhouse, every man he passed had a tie on. Some of the brothers were already dressed in polos and khaki shorts, with the color of their outfits being the only way Geoff could figure out who was who. After Pierson had checked them in for the rush event, they headed to the lockers to change. Once the two had stripped, Pierson handed Geoff a small white piece of fabric. Geoff was horrified to find it was a pair of whitey-tighties, completely generic besides a tiny logo and a thin, blue line running through the band.

“What,” Geoff asked. “Dude, seriously?”

“All of us wear them,” Pierson blatantly stated, showing how he had stripped down to his own. Geoff had only noticed Pierson’s behind before, but now he took his chance to examine the whole body. Pierson was thick from below his pecs down to his butt, no real waistline. The holes for the legs in Pierson’s briefs clung tightly to his thighs, making the curve of his extremely wide buttocks stand out. His bulge was extremely pronounced too, pushing the briefs to their limit. Everything about Pierson was just so big nowadays, his proportions practically comic level. He looked good.

Knowing he had to do it, Geoff quickly stepped into the briefs. The briefs made their way up both of his legs and finally began to engulf his private regions. He pulled the waistband up and let them sink into place. The bright, white fabric comfortably held his body from the tip-top of thighs to just above his pubic bush.

“Let me help you with those.” 

Pierson glided over to Geoff and dutifully pulled the briefs higher, a lot higher. Geoff’s belly button was now completely hidden, giving him a slight wedgie and his small package an even smaller moose knuckle. His flat bottom seemed more vertical than ever, and his 3-inch soft dick was nowhere near whatever Pierson was packing. Geoff should have been in pain, he should have been protesting, but something had subtly changed inside of him. The moment was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. The look of disgust he originally had on his face had faded away, replaced with a simple, charming smile.

With that done, Pierson handed Geoff some pink Bermuda shorts and a blue polo, each made of a stretchy and breathable material.

“You sure these are mine?” Geoff asked, noticing that the sizes were much too large. “I’m not sure I’ll fit.”

“I’m certain we’re the same size, Geoff.” Pierson replied, putting on his own set. The striped Hampton Lime polo he wore beautifully accentuated his pectoral shelf and–after being tucked into some tight cobalt Bermuda shorts–his blooming muscle gut. Geoff didn’t actually know the names of the hues, Pierson had strictly informed him beforehand. Pulled up to rest just below Pierson’s brief’s waistband, the shorts were held up by a fashionable belt that Geoff knew had a price tag with at least 3 digits. The shorts not only continued to advertise Pierson’s laughably large bottom, but also displayed powerful calves that looked as if they were stolen from a marble statue.

Although Pierson was certain they were the same size, they most certainly were not. Geoff was not surprised when his outfit failed to fit. The belt he had barely kept the shorts from falling, and even though the shirt was tucked in, it still draped over him more like a curtain. Unlike the briefs that had fit perfectly, the clothes were meant for a man much larger than him. A fraternity brother.

The final pieces were short, plain white socks and a pair of large golf shoes. Once again, Pierson had insisted the two were the same size, but Geoff knew his feet would never fit in the Size 14 giants. Even after tying the tightest knot he could, the shoes were still fairly roomy and loose, causing Geoff to focus intensely on every step in hopes of not tumbling over. Sighing in defeat, he noticed a small emblem on one of his socks, the same he had seen before on the briefs. He checked the other sock, and then also found it on his polo over the left breast. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Geoff inquired about it.

“I don’t think I recognize this brand,” he started. “Are we wearing Ralph Lauren?”

“Not exactly,” Pierson replied, who had also finished getting dressed. “It’s a partner brand of Polo Ralph Lauren that made an exchange with the Carmichael Corporation. Apparently some financial deal.”

“What is the Carmichael Corporation?”

“They are an investing partner with Hemplebaum. The two often work together on acquisition projects. The event today is co-hosted by both companies. A lot of Kappa Sigma Alpha’s alum actually work at the companies, as the pair and the fraternity are continually functioning together. Almost like a cycle, I assume.” Pierson chuckled at that.

“I see.” Geoff smiled at the new piece of evidence. Not only did he just find that a company was in on the ordeal, but three. There was definitely something peculiar about this “financial deal,” and whatever these Hemplebaum and Carmichael organizations were, they had to be behind the disappearance of Phil.

The two then made their way out to the course. A plethora of young, muscular men and older counterparts were already golfing away, chatting merrily about subjects Geoff knew he had no interest in. Stocks and economical talk were topics that were unsurprisingly extremely boring. Pierson made sure to introduce as many people as he could as they walked along, and Geoff made sure to mentally write down each suspect in his head. 

There was Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV from Carmichael, a man slightly older than the pair but identical in size and manner to Pierson. He was wearing a violet polo, docksiders, and light gray madras shorts. Then there was Henderson Harold Hearst from Hemplebaum; he shared the same age and exaggerated proportions with Pierson’s uncle, Mr. Johnson, who was also there. He was wearing a white sports polo, black golf cap, and a pair of golf trousers that somehow expanded over his massive thighs, showing off Mr. Hearst’s thick trunks and amble, jiggly buttocks that pressed generously backwards. 

There were a plethora of other businessmen that were also introduced to Geoff along the way. Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr. from Carmichael; Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth from Carmichael; Rotterham Casper Cornelius Southard from Hemplebaum; John Millard Koehler III from Carmichael. All the titles and accentuated names made Geoff’s head want to explode, but he hadn’t even met a quarter of the populus yet. There were still all the Kappa Sigma boys with names like Thurston F. Walbridge IV, Wyndham Judge Kilbourn V, and Hunt Johnstonbough. Geoff couldn’t understand how people remembered all of these obsessive, extensive, and money-grubbing men and their names. All of the businessmen and fraternity brothers were just a bunch of wealthy blockheads.

A sharp, static shock zipped inside of Geoff’s high-waisted briefs, causing him to pause momentarily. The shock sent a signal up his anus and tickled his prostate ever so slightly. In his head, Geoff immediately reevaluated his previous thoughts. These men weren’t obsessive, they were just clean-cut and well-maintained. And their names weren’t extensive and money-grubbing, they were traditional, conservative, and sumptuous. These corrections brought a cordial smile to Geoff’s face. Only now noticing he had stopped walking, Geoff jogged to catch back up to Pierson, causing his slightly-larger buttocks to gingerly bob.

As they walked out onto the course, golf bags strapped across their backs, Geoff could see a tall figure in the distance seeming to greet them with a small wave. Pierson returned the gesture amiably.

“Who’s that?”

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV. I invited him to play with us. Prescott is the Kappa Sigma rush chair. ”

“You invited the rush chair?”

“Prescott, yes. He’s been a close friend since I attended preparatory school, you should know that, Geoff.”

Geoff did not know this, as Pierson hadn’t existed less than a semester ago.

“I thought you would get on quite well. Besides, he’s on good terms with many important people. If you want to join the fraternity brotherhood, no one is a better connection.”

Prescott was in stretchy plum-colored golf trousers, a ballcap with the KE logo sitting proudly on the front, and a smoky-gray polo exactly like the ones they were wearing. Geoff had a bit of a shock realizing how much Prescott looked like Pierson. His body filled out the polo tremendously with broad shoulders, baseball-like biceps, and a thick but strong core. He also had that overly-wide posterior that led into legs and calves formed by deadlifts and deep squats. His hair–which was sheared down into a practically flat bit of black hair, shiny and parted–was the only noticeable difference between the two, but otherwise Geoff might have mistaken the two for brothers or cousins.

“Greetings!” Prescott shook Pierson’s hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back. For his part, Pierson tensed up a bit but did not resist.

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV, this is Geoffrey Elliot. We had few classes together last year, and now he is interested in rushing.” Before Geoff could correct the error of his name, Prescott grabbed him into a similar handshake-to-hug.

“Pleasure to meet you, Geoffrey,” Prescott said calmly. “Well, let’s play.”

“Are we taking the cart?” Geoff asked, pointing to a line of white, polished golf carts. He really didn’t want to walk around the entire course. He hadn’t exerted that amount of physical energy since high school gym.

“Of course not!” Prescott and Pierson chortled before Prescott continued. “I’d figure us three needed to work less on our glutes and more cardio!” Prescott then reached out and gave both Pierson and Geoff hard butt slaps. Geoff wanted to object, but a momentarily jarring jolt from his briefs once again silenced him.

“We all know this will not be enough to alleviate that problem,” Pierson quipped as they made their way to the first hole. Geoffrey completely forgot what he was thinking about and followed with a polite smile, his shorts now tighter against his inflated rump.

Prescott was extremely friendly and a little physical. Upon learning that Geoffrey had never golfed, Prescott took it upon himself to teach him everything he could, resulting in him saddling up behind him to correct stance and form, but also jokingly pressing his crotch into Geoffrey’s butt and thrusting. The boys all laughed at the horseplay, with Geoffrey nervously trying to hide his boner. If he wanted to fit in around these traditional, conservative men, he’d have to be a lot more careful. Luckily, his member had softened before anyone noticed, returning to its previous 4-inches soft.

Geoffrey had a hard time hating Prescott and the Kappa Sigma brothers. Taking away all the pomp of politics and social structure, Prescott seemed to be an incredibly friendly alpha; the kind of guy who would be quarterback, homecoming king, and class president (all things Geoffrey learned Prescott was). Geoffrey began to recognize that all the Kappa Sigma, Carmichael, and Hemplebaum men had so many things in common. There were so many things about them that Geoffrey really liked. They were gorgeously male and embodied masculine sophistication. They were groomed and cleaned, polite and cheerful. They were such ideal men, what Pierson had called “perfectly preppy”.

“My girlfriend will literally do anything I ask, that’s how dedicated she is to me!” Prescott bragged in a slow but still gloating voice.

“She was always into you,” Pierson added.

“Yes, sir. Her dad’s super rich, one of the department managers at the Carmichael Corporation. He’s inundated with old money. But what about you?” Prescott got a mischievous glint as his eyes located Pierson’s crotch. “Are you getting those fellows ready? It is almost breeding season.”

“What does that mean?” Geoffrey inquired.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI here is getting married.”

“Congratulations!” Geoffrey replied enthusiastically, forgetting that Pierson hadn’t had a partner less than a month ago.

“Thank you. We’re finishing some final details; her mother is very specific. Sometimes, she acts as though I’m unworthy.”

“She cannot do better,” Prescott assured.

“She is a perfectly suitable spouse. I am very pleased with the situation,” Pierson affirmed before setting up his shot and launching the ball.  He let out a whistle of appreciation as it landed in the green just a few feet away from the hole.

“Good shot,” Prescott and Geoffrey said simultaneously. Geoffrey hadn’t noticed his voice was beginning to imitate the other two’s, as it was now a little deeper and even-handed.

“Geoffrey, I know it’s late notice, but I hope you can at least attend the wedding. The club has strict guest limits and I’m running out of passes for nonmembers for the bachelor party.”

“Thank you, Pierson. I’m sure I can make it.”

Geoffrey didn’t want to attend for investigative purposes however, he just wanted to support his close friend Pierson.

“And if you join the fraternity and get your membership before, you can enjoy all the heterosexual fun.” Prescott winked at Geoffrey and snagged a nipple that was now stiffly pressed out from the polo. Geoffrey had somehow not felt the weight of his upper body before as he walked, as his chest now stuck out and increased his height by a few inches. Geoffrey should’ve cared more about his enlarged torso, but for some reason walking around with pecs straining a polo felt incredible, like a huge dose of testosterone had been injected into him.

After a few more rounds, the trio decided to take an intermission and head back to the club. The main ballroom at the Rolling Acres was a lively place stocked with booze and many other pompous and colossal-sized men. Before Geoffrey could figure out what was going on, Pierson and Prescott were already removing the caps from a collection of glass bottles and pouring multiple glasses full of amber liquid.

“Come on, sit,” Prescott instructed, slapping Geoffrey’s bottom before taking a seat. Originally, Geoffrey had intended on asking some analytical questions and refusing the drinks, but after a quick agonizing wince he discovered he didn’t want to upset his new friends, or the financial connections they represented. Taking a big swig of the liquid, he sat down in the chair, his increasingly wide and plump behind consuming nearly ¾ths of the extra wide seat.

“You’re getting pretty good at the trap shot, Pierson Buckley Folsom VI, ” Prescott toasted Pierson.

“You’re still better, Prescott Neilson Powers IV,” Pierson was already refilling his drink happily. The trio continued chatting until Pierson eventually excused himself to the toilet, leaving Geoffrey alone with a man he thought would have been detestable. But this afternoon was fun. He got a small knot in his stomach as Prescott turned to him with a viperous grin.

“Geoff? Geoff Elliot?” Prescott suddenly said, dropping his voice low. Geoffrey was confused for a moment, as he hadn’t thought of himself as Geoff in a while. It was almost shocking, but then he cautiously nodded yes.

“Please, call me Geoffrey, Prescott.”

“Oh, I will, Geoffrey,” he emphasized the name. “You look good, and I have to admit I was wrong about you, Geoffrey. When Pierson had said he had invited you, I did not think you would make it. But here you are: willing and able, and looking much better with the muscles might I add. These clothes have done wonders for you.”

“Thank you, Prescott. I am very happy spending time with the Kappa Sigma men and the alumni.” Prescott nodded and smiled as the robotic words left Geoffrey’s mouth. Geoffrey had been content with his answer, but he hadn’t processed the real meaning behind Prescott’s comment. Absentmindedly scratching his calf, he should’ve been surprised by the amount of fur that caught in his grip. It also should have shocked him how firm his muscles felt; the thick, robust quads and strong, sculpted forelegs now filled his salmon shorts appropriately. They were also helped by his waist, which had expanded out both in the pelvic and gluteal regions.

“I like having my fellow fraternity brothers around. It is truly a real lifetime bond, care to agree?” Geoffrey nodded as Prescott took another deep swig. “Something that really defines a man: who he is and who he’s going to be.” 

Prescott then seemed to stare at Geoffrey curiously. For his part, Geoffrey had no idea what to say, and so stayed silent. “If I’d known this is who you were going to be, I’d have made sure you were my brother a long time ago. Of course, I knew Geoff, but not Geoffrey. Not big, strapping Geoffrey.”

“Yes,” Geoffrey stirred his glass and sat there.

“And I still have yet to meet whom you will become. You still have a ways to go until you have finished.”

“Finished?”

“The rush event, of course. You did not think it was over, did you? It is only a quarter past one you jester!” Prescott then grabbed Geoffrey’s head and gave him a playful noogie. The respectable man’s knuckles drove apart Geoffrey’s hair, causing the slightly-greasy afro to spill out a little more.

“Your hair has been a little off today,” Prescott noted. “Did you use enough pomade this morning?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey confirmed. “I believe I did.” He fixed his hair precariously, making sure all the edges were still held together like a helmet. Geoffrey liked his textured ivy league cut chipper yet sharp, just like the fine fellows of Kappa Sigma Alpha.

“Now, Geoffrey, what do you think Geoffrey is like in college?”

“I’m Geoffrey.”

“Correct, but these past few semesters you have not been. I just wonder what you wish you had done?”

“I wish I’d attended more sports games. I love football, and enjoy playing tennis and golf.” The answers had been installed in his head without him knowing.

“Splendid!”

“I’d want to have a group of men to watch sports with,” Geoffrey added.

“Indeed, every game we have an event at the house.” 

Geoffrey stared at him with glassy eyes. He was confused. It seemed like Prescott wanted him to say something, but he could only shrug.

“Would have been nice.”

“I do hope you apply for the fraternity. The brotherhood would be a good fit for you.”

“I’ve really enjoyed myself so far,” Geoffrey admitted. “And the prospect of living in the manor is tantalizing.”

“Where are you living nowadays?”

“I have a dorm in Walker. It’s a heap, but I live alone.”

“Have you thought about living with other men? Such ideal, perfectly preppy men?”

“What?! No, I haven’t, I mean..” Geoffrey sputtered a little, not considering that factor in his infiltration plan. It seemed like a dream, to be surrounded by so many gaudy, haughty, and sexy men. After a momentary painful shudder, Geoffrey realized he would love to be surrounded by so many prosperous, presumptuous, and handsome brothers. Of course, his definition of handsome was a man who was traditional, well-heeled, and physically attractive to women. Geoffrey believed that men ought to align themselves to the only orientation, one where his 5-inch soft dick didn’t get aroused to the thought of other gentlemen.

“I’m not sure it’s right for me,” Geoffrey announced truthfully, authorizing a smirk from Prescott.

“It’s right for Geoffrey. For football-playing, fraternity brother, corporate shark Geoffrey.” Prescott smiled and got up from the table, ushering Geoffrey to follow him.

“If you become a brother, either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum will pay off your student debt as long as you work a year-long internship with them after you graduate. I can set you up.”

“Really?”

“I always support my Kappa Sigma Alpha brothers.” His impish grin was the only signal Geoffrey had before another blow to his bottom. After a little excruciating twitch, Geoffrey returned to reality, his voluminous buttocks still vibrating as they had now accumulated a soft layer of fat that made him even wider.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond!”  Prescott chanted and stared at Geoffrey. Geoffrey hesitated, but his mind wanted it so bad. He wanted Prescott to like him, to be his brother. Geoffrey wanted to be one of the classy, dashing brothers.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond.”  Prescott smiled as Geoffrey repeated the stanza back to him.

Pierson then showed up a moment later from behind them.

“What did I miss?”

“Just the rushing of our newest member here!”

“Newest member?” Pierson replied excitedly. “You are going to become a brother, Geoffrey?”

“I must!” Geoffrey replied eagerly. He wanted to become one of these perfectly preppy brothers, which kind of went against his reason for coming here in the first place. But, why was he here again? Was it not to be rushed? For some reason, Geoffrey felt like he was forgetting something, but it didn’t bother him enough to dwell on it. Any inappropriate memory of infiltration or distaste had been sapped from his increasingly cordial mind.

“That makes me so elated!” Pierson exclaimed. “Let us go find my uncle then, that way we can have him officiate the necessary forms.”

“If I can have a moment,” Geoffrey paused the celebration. “I would like to use the restroom.”

“Well…” Pierson hesitated.

“Of course!” Prescott gave a reassuring glance to Pierson, although Geoffrey didn’t know why. “Around the corner over yonder and then westbound. We will go retrieve Mr. Johnson while you alleviate.”

“My gratitude.” Not only had Geoffrey’s tone adopted the same deep, flat, and robotic tone, but his vocabulary slowly became much more sophisticated. As he strolled over to the restroom, Geoffrey now felt the weight of his body as he walked. He hadn’t noticed before, but he had settled out around 6’3 thanks to his extended limbs. His newly broadened shoulders filled out his dark periwinkle polo nicely. They made him feel like he took up the entire doorway as he entered the lavatory, and his big, wide stride made his butt and crotch kind of wiggle as he walked. He could feel the fabric of his salmon shorts tighten around his balls and release, then tighten on the other side. It was mildly arousing.

After taking a hearty leak, Geoffrey pulled his briefs back up above his belly button. It was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. And that’s what he wanted after all, to fit in. Why be unique and different when one could be conventional, classical, and consistent? That’s why he had come here in the first place, because he wanted to be like these men. Geoffrey wanted to be a Kappa Sigma, and after that work at either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.

Washing his hands in the sink, Geoffrey looked up and was very pleased to see the extremely handsome young man in front of him. He filled out his clothes almost to the point of bursting, from the Size 14 golf shoes to the Philadelphia blue polo. As he admired his form in the mirror, Geoffrey couldn’t help but brush the smooth-shaved line of his prominent jaw. He really could swear that his face had been almost heart-shaped, but now there was a distinctly hexagonal shape to the thing. Geoffrey was practically a hypermasculine parody: low brow, big nose, and wide jaw with a gigantic cleft chin: just like all the other men here.

Once he had finished appreciating his form, he exited the restroom and found Pierson, Prescott, and Mr. Johnson all chatting merrily. When they noticed his entrance, they immediately turned to allow him into the conversation.

“What can I do for you, Geoffrey?” Mr. Johnson asked. Geoffrey tried to find a concise answer for that question, but found that impossible.

“I want to become a Kappa Sigma and work with business and finance after graduation. I want every piece of advice you can give me.”

“Why is that?” Mr. Johnson was suppressing a smug smile though Geoffrey didn’t notice.

“I want to be just like you. And Pierson Buckley Folsom VI. And Prescott Neilson Powers IV. And all the men here at Rolling Acres.”

“Enjoy the event?”

“Immensely. I belong here with these kinds of men. I want to move into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house, not live in some pathetic university building.” He cast a disgusted look before continuing.  “I want to become an alumni and work under the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.”

Mr. Johnson smiled. “So, Geoffrey, are you willing to fully commit yourself to the Kappa Sigmas?”

“I am, sir,” he replied in a soldier-like manner.

“Excellent. Well, I can proudly say you are approaching the physical standards. Let me address one concern.” Mr. Johnson carefully moved his massive arm behind Geoffrey and patted his buttocks gently. Geoffrey didn’t react as a gentle sting pulsated his prostate and a charming smile adorned his face. Mr. Johnson’s hand moved away to reveal an enormous rump identical to the others’, one thick with muscles underneath but concealed underneath a spongy layer of fat. With the salmon Bermuda shorts now tight against his behind, the crotch of his shorts were pulled tight into a prominent moose knuckle, also showcasing his 7-inch soft dick.

“Yes, that is more appropriate.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, there is a rather large change that I believe is a necessity for your progression into the Kappa Sigmas as well as your new social circle.”

“What is that sir?”

“Your name, it is just too common and destitute. You agree?” Geoffrey snapped back confirmation even though it made his head spin. “Personally, I have always been very fond of names associated with old money.”

“You want me to change my last name?” Geoffrey asked, slightly confused.

“Not exactly. Your entire name will have to be reformed.”

“My entire name?”

“Well, I thought you wanted to succeed.”

“Yes sir.”

“So you want to change your name. What do you think would work?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“So you want my help, is that what you are saying?” The words were coming so fast and Mr. Johnson’s eyes were so enticing that Geoffrey nodded.

“Yes sir, please tell me what my name should be.”

Mr. Johnson crossed his arms over his shelf of pecs, clearly relishing in the moment even though Geoffrey had no idea why.

“This is my favorite part.” Geoffrey didn’t say anything, as his superior clearly didn’t want him to.  And he’d just asked for help so there was no need to say anything. “It’s a great moment, when you realize you want to be whatever I want you to be.” 

Mr. Johnson ceremoniously pulled a form out of his suit pocket and presented it to Geoffrey. “This is your fraternity contract. You don’t need to bother with the details. Just sign your name.“

In very literal terms, Geoffrey would be singing away his life. The fraternity, the proud men of Kappa Sigma, and all of the alumni who worked at the Carmichael Corporation and Hemplebaum were now permanently immune from any legal repercussions. Of course, there never would be, as they had plenty of experience in this sort of thing.

Geoffrey was about to sign, but he noticed a different name was listed on the contract.

“It is supposed to be made out by Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.?”

“A name I believe will fit you suitably.” Mr. Johnson offered a pen to Geoffrey and gave a conceited smirk. “Just sign.”

The order immediately processed through Geoffrey’s brain, bringing a clubby smile to his face as he wrote out his new signature. Once he had finished, Mr. Johnson took the contract back and made his way to the ballroom stage. He signaled for Geoffrey to follow him.

“Hello?” Mr. Johnson tested a mic, his lifeless bass resonant across the room. “I would like to request every man’s attention please.”

Geoffrey watched on as all the men in the room turned to look their way. So many masculine men dressed to the tens in lavish suits and colorful polos. They were all so refined, so perfectly preppy.

“I would like to announce our first success of the annual Kappa Sigma Alpha rush event: the newest man of Kappa Sigma, Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.!”

The crowded room burst into a controlled round of applause. Godfrey felt giddy, proud to become a part of this fine organization. After the room had calmed down, Mr. Johnson and Godfrey rejoined Pierson and Prescott. They continued a fascinating discussion about budgetary and monetary issues, as a recent Hemplebaum acquisition of an old theatre downtown had created quite a profit. Godfrey felt right as home, as if he had always meant to be a Kappa Sigma. He instantly embraced his new role in life and quickly was accepted as a full brother by the other men.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. After Godfrey, there were eight other boys who were rushed into the Kappa Sigmas. Godfrey didn’t realize that at the beginning of the day, these boys had all been exactly like him: crude, coarse, and shoddy. In fact, Godfrey didn’t realize that he had been like that at all. His memories had slowly shifted, causing him to remember a wealthier upbringing, one where he had pampered and shaped to become a Kappa Sigma man over the last 21 years.

“To be frank,” Pierson started as they made their way back out to the first hole. “I did not foresee you transitioning so fast, let alone becoming the first pledge of the day.”

“You should recognize that I have been training for this my entire life,” Godfrey replied sternly.

“Oh, I do,” Pierson conceded. “But I will need some testament to that claim. Four strokes is par.”

Godfrey turned to Pierson and gave a broad, bland smile.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” he declared with a club in his hand. “I’ll only need one.”

[skullytotheark]

Clear Skies 75

Setting: Different states of America

time setting: late 20th century, From 70s to 90s

Why I made it: Hehe creepypasta but oc au

Inspiration: 70s and 80s slasher mixed with creepypasta characters / creepypasta characters set in the 80s

goal: Possibly make an ARG series, But for now it’ll be in silly writing i do every now and then. Similar to creepy hornets

Description:

The Rot of the woods is slowly but surely making it’s way pass the treeline, The Horrible reality where monsters and things that go bump in the night are more common than you could ever imagine.. Deep in Montana and Colorado these nightmares hide within the woods, Awaiting for any lone hikers and the innocent to walk into their sight. For they hunt for sport and to survive…

Ever Since the start of the 70s, More and more of these creatures and psychopaths are beginning to crawl out from the bed to strike. Their goals and motives being a mystery to people like you and I… There’s only a burning ember of hope that there is good amongst the bad, But then again. who says they’re any better than those they fight??... Only god can save you from whatever is tapping at your window, The strange towering silhouette standing in the corner of your room or the sound of heavy footsteps heading straight for your bedroom door.

Welcome my dearest of friends and stalkers of the night!!!

Allow thy to introduce you to a World of many nightmares and terrors beyond your imaginations.

Clear Skies 75!

For a good while you've might've heard me just ramble or mention this AU in at least one or two of my posts, But Allow me to show you what I've been brewing for awhile!

For a good while I've been sitting in my little snowy room, Thinking of different scenarios and plotpoints involving these characters! Now personally I'm not ENTIRELY SURE, If I'll do as much "fanfics" or writing as much as I would do for Creepyhornets but You'll def probably see me write about this au Every now and then! I more or less really wanted to just, Have characters based off of some of the pastas or characters i've come to love growing up in this silly community!!

Introductions.

The Watchman.

"A Modern Tale for those who go wondering in these woods son. They say it's a Eldritch God of sorts or a "angry spirit"... Me?? I think it's a force of nature, Not something you can fight... But you'd have to adapt to.. trust me, I know..."

The great watchman! The Slenderman of this canon as you can tell and the main "big bad" of this canon, I more or less imagine that this entity is not your sterorypical slender that we're used to seeing in writings. Returning to the older versions such as the Operator and when Slender was simply a being of unknown nature and sudden movements...

"The Butcher"

"I had a run in with that fucking freak. Cackling and getting a kick out of my fear as he chased after me with a fucking machete.. One day he'll fucking learn what's it like when the roles change... One day..."

The Jeff The Killer stand in for this canon! More or less depicting him as a cruel but sloppy killer, Although he has a big reputation, He's a amature and a prime example of "human scum" in this canon. No goals or motives, doing it for the fun of it. Also im just thinking of naming him "Geoff" cuz it'd be a really funny bit imo

"The Pyromaniac"

"I remember when he was still young.. A cheerful little boy who still needed mommy to tie his shoe laces... But then things changed... He never got along with his stepdad... But then he went missing one day and.. I get a call that My husband was killed... Then I knew.. He wanted to get back at him for everything Frank had done to us... But it should have never ended like this.."

The Ticci Toby stand in for this universe!!!. Felix/Cody robinson is a child of abuse who is short tempered and rash, Often acting and thinking later. Although he's a valuable assest to The Watchman's following. Even though He hates it and wants to go home.

"Doll-Face"

"I still remember when "Bryan" took me up to that cabin... God I should've known I was just another lamb for the slaughter.. How did this end up like this Ma?..."

Doll-Face is of course the Masky inspired character! His story heavily follows the idea of "get away at the Cabin goes wrong and now all of my friends are trying to kill eachother" trope.

"Null"

"I'm alive... I shouldn't be but I am... After everything I've done.. I'll make things right this time... I'm so sorry Tommy.."

Null is a combination of both Hoody and Skully into one character! And is also the "Alex" of this scenario. Bryan's family was haunted by the watchman for generations, When he was older the entity began to pick away at his sanity and commanded a blood sacrifice for his family using 'it's children' for resources when building their cabin / property in the woods.

"The Stalker."

"I could've sworn, He was standing right at my bed when I was asleep. I don't know why but he was... He killed dad but... Why not me?... Was he... Taunting me?.."

And the final member of this cast [ATM] the Stalker! The eyeless Jack stand in for this series who draws heavy inspirtation from the og eyeless jack design. Atm I had the idea that he was a journalist in diguise pretending to be a demon of sorts who profits off of his crimes by taking photos of the aftermaths. Buttt I do also like the idea of him just being a demon. His story is still a WIP atm.

Until next time!

Sadly that is all the characters i have so far :(

But I do plan on making more characters such as Zalgo, Jane, Nina and a whole bunch more!! Ofc I plan on making a word doc for this au that'll have links to each of these characters butttt i gotta finish Stalker and "Geoff" before i do!

But until then keep an eye out on my tiktok *COUGH* Skullytotheark *COUGH* for a bunch of arrttt and wips of more characters!!!

See you all next time :)

[assistant-of-drama]

Assistant Noah's World Tour!

After Newfoundland...

Noah listens as he hears Alejandro angrily rant in spanish, while brushing his teeth.

The sarcastic assistant is covering his mouth and trying his best not to laugh, as he stood near the confessional door.

Apparently, the charmer doesn't like the sock flavored chowder that Heather made for him.

Even though Noah mostly forgives Alejandro for almost leaving Owen behind back in the Amazon, he may have been the reason Heather had gotten Owen's socks in the first place.

Alejandro opened the door to give Noah the stink eye. Did he already find out what Noah did?

"I'm glad that you find my suffering so hilarious." Alejandro grumbled.

So, he didn't.

Noah shrugs with a chuckle. "Well, you were kinda asking for it, considering that you tricked two guys into kissing fish and stole Heather's possible alliance with DJ."

"What can I say. She had a clever idea and I wanted to steal it for myself. And be honest with me Noah, would you rather kiss a fish or have someone else do it for you?" Alejandro asks smugly with a raised eyebrow.

Noah squints his eyes and purses his lips. "...Touche."

"That's what I thought, amigo." the charmer then winks playfully, wrapping an arm around the assistant and leading him to first class.

Noah leans into Alejandro's touch, the back of his head by the taller man's strong chest, as he asks a curious question. "By the way, how did you have time to paint those eyes on the fish?"

"I'm sure that you're smart enough to figure that out on your own."

"I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman."

"Come now Noah, we both know that I'm not."

As they entered first class to enjoy its comforts, Noah allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.

Noah wishes he could hate the guy. He wishes he could hate the True Alejandro as much as the Fake Alejandro. He wants to hate that greasy eel. It'd make things so much easier. But the truth was, he didn't hate him at all. The true Alejandro was clever, crafty, cunning, a bit dorky and had a sense of humor that Noah could appreciate. The Fake Alejandro was just a Spanish Prince Charming Wannabe.

Alejandro's brain was even sexier than his body, and that was saying something. It was the thing that drew Noah in, made him want to be near him, even when he knew it was wrong. It was the one thing that made Noah feel like he wasn't the only one with a mind like this. They were two misfits who had found each other in this mess of a competition, and somehow, it worked. It was a strange, twisted sort of bond that they shared, and Noah wasn't sure if he could ever explain it to anyone else.

Although Noah acts like he's not interested, deep down he honestly wants nothing more than to drag Alejandro to the cargo bay and kiss the beautiful, brilliant evil genius all day long. It's the last thing he'd ever admit to, but it's the truth. They could give Bridgette and Geoff a run for their money.

Even though the True Alejandro is interesting and fun, at the end of the day, Alejandro is only here for the money. He doesn't care about Noah or anyone for that matter. Noah has seen with his own eyes and Alejandro himself told the assistant. Nothing and nobody else matters. Only the million dollars matter.

As much as it hurt Noah's little heart, it's the truth and the cynic can accept that.

He accepts it... if only he knew about the conflict in Alejandro's own heart.

[fallingblueroses]

I don't know if I'll continue this or not, but the concept has been floating around my head for a while. Enjoy.

***

The relentless sun beat down on the piece of ship's hull that served her as a makeshift raft. She'd been floating out in the ocean for days after the storm had destroyed the ship she'd been sailing on, and she was past hope. Her lips were cracked with thirst, her stomach was hollow with hunger, and her body ached with exhaustion.

She drifted in and out of sleep, knowing that sooner or later she'd go to sleep and not wake up. On the edge of another bout of sleep she heard a deep noise like an animal chattering, but to her cloudy mind it almost sounded like words. "Get the others."

A higher pitched chatter. "All right."

She allowed herself a small laugh. Now she knew she was dreaming. Rescuers? Out here? There wasn't any land in sight, and she hadn't seen another ship since the storm.

She soon realized the little raft was being pushed across the water. Her mind cleared a little, and when she blinked the bleariness out of her eyes and raised her head she saw a man--a rather handsome one--with gray-streaked brown hair and hazel eyes pushing her. He gave her a gentle smile as their eyes met, and she ventured a greeting. "Hello."

He blinked in surprise, and made that strange understandable chattering again. "Hello."

Before she could respond a smaller, darker, bearded man with black hair popped out of the water. The raft picked up speed as he helped the first push. Another man, pale skinned with black hair, surfaced on one side of her and a fourth, bald with a reddish beard, came up on the other.

The second man looked at the first. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Careful. I think she understands us."

His bright eyes looked at her with curiosity. "Do you?"

She coughed, irritating her dry throat. "Yes."

The black-haired man looked back at the others. "I didn't know nikaru could understand us."

"Well it's the first time we've ever seen a live nikaru," the bald one replied.

She laid back down on the raft. "I need water."

The four exchanged glances. The first one spoke again in his deep voice. "But there's water all around us."

"I can't drink it. It's too salty."

The bald man's eyes lit up. "She means land water."

"We'll get you to land," the brown-haired man said. "Just rest."

She couldn't do much else, but hope blossomed again in her heart. "My name's Kathy," she said. "Do you have names?"

"I'm called Geoff," the brown-haired man said.

The dark-skinned man smiled. "I'm Cesar."

"I'm Eli," the bald man said.

"And I'm Layne," the black-haired man said.

"Nice to meet you," Kathy said.

The four laughed, and the cheerful sound made her smile. Geoff's eyes twinkled as he answered. "Nice to meet you too, Kathy."

***

The four took turns pushing the raft, two at a time, as the sun sank in the sky. Occasionally one or more of them would hum or sing, like workers on a ship. The sound soothed Kathy and helped buoy her spirits. She was still weak, but no longer resigned to death.

As Eli swam beside her she caught a glimpse of a bright green tail. Mermen. She'd been rescued by actual real, live mermen. Geoff's tail was light gray, Cesar's was shiny black, and Layne's was a bright orange.

Eventually a fifth man, very dark skinned with short black hair, surfaced beside of Layne. "What are you guys doing?" He blinked to see Kathy. "A nikaru!"

"She speaks our language," Eli warned him. "Her name's Kathy."

The newcomer flashed her a bright smile. "Hello, Kathy. Call me J."

She smiled back at him. "Hello J." She got a glimpse of a tail the color of polished brass as he swam beside Layne.

"We're taking her to land," Geoff said. "She needs land water."

"All right." J took Eli's place in pushing the raft. "Glad to help."

The sun was just touching the horizon when they came upon an island. The five of them followed the coastline for a while, then pushed Kathy's raft onto the shore near where a stream emptied into the ocean. Kathy stumbled off of the raft onto the sand and made her way toward the water as best she could. The first taste made her gag, but she was soon drinking as much as she could hold.

She turned toward her rescuers to thank them, and to her surprise they were no longer in the water but laying on the sand. "...Thank you. Thank you all so much."

Geoff gave her a tired but gentle smile. "You're welcome."

After she'd satisfied her thirst she went back over to them and gasped as she saw that their tails were splitting. "Your tails-!"

They laughed, and Eli reassured her. "Don't worry. We're fine."

As Kathy watched, their tails finished splitting and became the color of their skin. Cesar was the first to stand on his feet, and he bowed dramatically to her before turning to his friends. "Come on, guys. I'm starving. Let's go find food."

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

The Stranded and The Scaly

Chapter 14: A day to recover

Day 8

Chapter warnings: Vomit, blood

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

Geoff's heart pounded in his chest loud enough for Ezekiel to hear it from a few feet away. At least it was beating a little slower than before.

Geoff was currently laying on his back with the baby gopher clutched to his chest. The weight on his chest provided by the gopher was strangely comforting, and it was helping to keep him grounded. He briefly recalled a breathing exercise Bridgette had taught him last year, maybe it could help him calm down.

He took a deep breath and held it in, counting in his head.

1...2....3...4.

On the fourth second, he exhaled slowly.

Huh, that made him feel a bit better. After four seconds of holding his breath, he repeated the exercise.

Over at the small stream in the cave, Ezekiel was wringing water out of a small piece of cloth. Geoff focused his eyes on him as he walked over. Zeke gently brushed a lock of hair out of Geoff's face and began to wipe away the blood smeared around his mouth with the damp cloth. The gesture was strangely soothing, Geoff thought as he sighed quietly. While he cleaned Geoff's face off, Ezekiel began to stroke his thick, blonde hair. Geoff couldn't help but let out a weak purr as his eyelids grew heavier. In the next minute, he was fast asleep.

When he noticed Geoff was out like a light, Ezekiel took this as his cue to continue with the cleanup job he was doing. After washing the cloth out, he began to scrub the blood off Geoff's claws. It was a tricky task because of how much blood was caked under them, but there was nothing a little elbow grease couldn't fix. Geoff had really gotten roughed up, hadn't he? Ezekiel took a moment to rest his head on Geoff's chest and feel the slow rise and fall of it as he breathed. For a cold-blooded mutant, he was surprisingly warm...

Ezekiel just couldn't help himself from falling asleep as well.

When Geoff woke up, he was aware of three things. The grime that had been scrubbed from his claws, Ezekiel using his chest as a pillow, and the overwhelming nausea he felt.

Moving Zeke and the gopher off his chest, Geoff bolted to the stream in the cave and hunched over in front of it. He retched. Bloody chunks and bile erupted from his throat and spewed into the water. Oh, how it all burned. This was worse than the time his friends had triple-dog-dared him to eat that muffin out of the cafeteria trash. He regretted going berserk on those wolves, because they were messing him up from beyond the grave. As he laid on his side and clutched his stomach, he was distantly aware of a small, calloused hand rubbing his back.

"Zeke?... is that you?.."

He recieved a grunt of affirmation in response.

"Man, I'm so sorry for causing trouble.. I didn't mean to go crazy out there, I couldn't help it! I-" Geoff's words were silenced by a loud sob coming from his own throat. Big, salty, alligator tears rolled down his scaly cheeks as he looked at Zeke. The smaller boy immediately cupped Geoff's cheeks and tried to wipe his tears away with his thumbs. After all he'd done, Zeke was still trying to comfort him. Geoff really didn't deserve his little buddy. He gently nuzzled into the smaller boy and whimpered quietly.

"Still need rest, come."

Ezekiel wiped Geoff's mouth with the damp cloth from before and guided him back to the spot he was originally resting in. Geoff laid on his back and held both Ezekiel and the gopher close, sighing contentedly. At least he got all those wolf guts out of his system. He felt a bit better now.

Geoff stared down at Ezekiel, who had snuggled into his chest and shut his eyes. He couldn't help but smile a bit, the little fella was like a kitten! He gently stroked Ezekiel's hair with his now-clean claws and recieved a small smile from the little mutant in return.

After a few minutes, Geoff let himself fall asleep once more.

Unbeknownst to the two mutants, however, they were being quietly watched. The cameras hidden all around the island had captured Geoff's massacre in high definition.

"Well, well, well! So Scott WASN'T lying after all!" A small cackle could be heard from within the dark studio.

"Chef, it looks like we've got ourselves a gator to trap!"

-----

[sugarlesswriting]

While I sat outside with my sister to pass out candy to children I came up with a small little AU. There’s not a lot for an actual story but enough for some headcanons.

            Paranormal Investigator AU

Duncan burned some bridges while in Toronto and can’t seem to find a decent job. Gwen can’t seem to find a job with her art history degree.

One day while channel surfing they get to the Travel Channel and there’s a show about paranormal investigation. Gwen jokes that it would be easy to scam home owners and pretended to feel an ‘evil presence’ in a corner.

That’s where Nocturne Paranormal Investigations began.

They’ve been scamming from Mississauga all the way to Montreal. That is until one day they get a call from a man who calls himself Mr. Madden and he’s from Vancouver.

Gwen doesn’t want to make the trip because going cross country means spending money but the man promises to pay them triple.

She almost hangs up because it ticks off to many boxes on the start of a horror movie. Strang man not from their area calling them to go a long way from home. Check. Not doubling but tripling it when she turns it down. Check.

That is until he’s pleading on the phone and that he only called because his niece spoke highly of them.

Gwen decides to play along because now that she thinks about business has been slow and she has time to kill.

After a few minutes Mr. Madden wears her down and now that she thinks about it she they could use a change of pace, but also they can’t be picky when it comes to business. Even if it screams Dumb Horror Movie Decision™.

Gwen takes the case without consulting Duncan which made him think that his life was a living hell while they drove to Vancouver. Which made her life a living hell for 22 hours.

DJ their new hire, and old friend, was a good buffer, but there was only so much he could do from Duncan being an ass. Which made Gwen act like an ass. Which just makes DJ wish that maybe he took his uncles offer as working at a temp agency.

 The moment Duncan drives his car up the long driveway, with tree’s and  random pieces of stoned carvings he makes a comment about if they die he’ll kill Gwen.

The mansion is huge and Duncan now thinks that Gwen should have squeezed a couple extra thousand.

Gwen finds it annoying that Duncan has not only been bitching for the whole time, but now he’s bitching at her for not negotiating better.

Gwen was going to kill him if the owner of the house didn’t.

Duncan sees another car in the large driveway and is back to being grump, but also on edge to the point that Gwen thinks he finally lost it.

He starts to light up while they wait for Mr. Madden to answer the door. Gwen can basically feel the stress off him. She wonders if he’s really scared of this big mansion. It is screaming murder mystery house

Mr. Madden finally answers the door. He has familiar features with blond hair and green eyes. Gwen feels her stomach drop because if his niece is the person she’s thinking about that means Duncan’s ex-girlfriend isn’t far behind.

Gwen hopes that maybe they aren’t there. That it would just be her team and Mr. Madden during their investigation.

She’s proven wrong when he takes them to the drawing room because it’s the place that had the least activity from spirits.

There are four other people in there. Two she knew were going to be there, the other’s didn’t even come to her minds radar when she sees them in there.

Two she knew Bridgette and Courtney. Courtney is Duncan’s ex, and Gwen could basically feel Duncan stiffen. Like he’s some cat that just came into contact with a very large dog that’s a threat.

The other two is Geoff, Duncan’s childhood friend who moved during 7th grade. The other is Trent, the guy Gwen’s been seeing for the past couple of months.

Geoff is Bridgette’s boyfriend and Trent is now Bridgette’s cousin through marriage. (Trent’s dad married Bridgette’s aunt).

DJ is confused as to why Duncan is glaring at Courtney, and Courtney in turn is glaring right back at him.

DJ decides to lead the conversation because now Gwen and Duncan are distracted.

He can’t get to it because Trent asks Gwen what she was doing there, she says it’s for work. She asks what Trent’s doing there and he tells her that he’s family.

DJ tries it again but is once again interrupted when Courtney scoffs and rolls her eyes which just sets off Duncan because why not? They weren’t there for a job or anything!

After, like, 30 seconds of them yelling at each other Bridgette intervenes and says that their bad vibes is feeding the spirit.

Courtney reveals that she’s there to prove that their a scam, not because she knows but because she thinks all paranormal investigators are scammers.

Duncan, who always thoughts ghost were fake and people who actually hired them were idiots is now putting 110% effort into the job.

DJ is able to redirect the conversation back to Mr. Madden and his ghosts.

It’s been happening for years now, but it wasn’t until recently that it seems to have been amped up.

Gwen talks about energies.

Courtney scoffs again.

Duncan says they should kill Courtney and offer her up to appease the spirit.

Mr. Madden eventually has to leave because he got a call to go into town because of business or whatever.

So now it’s a full night of investigation with Courtney constantly interfering by being right about them being fakes.

Luckily no one is taking her seriously but it’s started to make Gwen nervous that Duncan might go too far and eventually the truth of the scam will come out.

Obviously the more the night goes on the more romance happens between Courtney and Duncan.

Oh no they get locked in a room. Duncan makes a comment about how she’s so desperate to get back together with him that she locked them in.

She says that Duncan is the one that’s not over her, so that’s why he suggested to investigate that room.

Ghost makes a sound

Courtney mocks Duncan “Oh so scary! Come on Duncan, I know you can do better than that.”

Duncan takes the compliment but tells her that it wasn’t him.

The entire night is filled with ghost activity as it soon becomes apparent that the ghost is very much real and Nocturne Paranormal Investigation has to come to terms that they are now in over their head because this spirit is starting to become down right violent.  

Duncan and Courtney makeout at one point during the night. They would go further but the ghost is a cock block.

[simon-roy]

A BRIEF REMINDER:

The final order cutoff for the Image Comics edition of GRIZ GROBUS is TODAY! So if you're a comic book store owner, a independent bookstore manager, or anyone who reads comics, consider ordering the book!

What is Griz Grobus? Here, from the solicitation text:

On a distant planet, a prying scribe, a sentimental constable, and a mayor resurrect a sleepy town’s long-defunct priest-bot. But "Father Stanley" is not what he seems. Meanwhile, in another universe, a hungry wizard accidentally conjures a war-god into the body of a goose. These two intertwined tales make up GRIZ GROBUS, the hit Kickstarter graphic novel sensation now at Image Comics!

Perfect for fans of Hayao Miyazaki, Asterix, and Arthur C. Clarke, and readers 12 and up!

Arriving: June 5, 2024 Lunar Code: 0424IM239 ISBN: 9781534397866

Nice things other comics professionals have been saying about the book:

 "Griz Grobus' dual dovetailing narratives let us discover an alien world and a human heart, full of Ghibli style and the finest Tor-novella poise. The team creates a universe, and is generous enough to let us live there." —Kieron Gillen, The Wicked + The Divine, Die, Phonogram

"Rich, beautiful and very funny—one of my favorite comics. Get every book Simon makes." —Tonči Zonjić, Lobster Johnson, Who is Jake Ellis?

"Simon's worldbuilding skills are yet to be matched, but on top of that his stories are both crazy and profound!" —Carlos P. Valderrama, Giants

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"When Simon Roy announces a new book it's an event - and a must buy for me and anyone who loves the medium of words and pictures!!!” —Geoff Darrow, Shaolin Cowboy, Hard Boiled

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"Seriously, it's the perfect kind of Ursula Le Ghibli world and I adore it. The right measure of everything from the writing to the art." —Goran Gligovic, Dagger Dagger, Company of the Eagle

PS - If any of this piques your interest, I'm also running a kickstarter campaign for the hardcover edition of REFUGIUM, - the sequel to this very book! If you or your customers enjoy Wayne Barlowe's strange creatures, or the work of Dougal Dixon, it might scratch a particular itch for you...

[cer-rata]

Hi! I wanted to ask about your process making of Conrad. I been thinking on creating my own oc but I really don't know where to start and when I read "heart of Gotham" he feld like a pretty solid character and very interesting too.

So I'Il like to know, how did you come up with him? Where did you started end how did you follow with his story?

And if you have advice on building a character I would love to hear it, thank you! :D

This is so nice? I think the biggest anxiety around creating a OC-centric fic is that your baby just won't be as interesting as the canon characters, or worse is actively agonizing to witness, so it is nice to see that he stuck out to you positively.

This is a lovely question and I want to give you a thorough answer.

Spoilers? I guess? But only for things I've already published.

On Conrad:

When I'm writing fanfiction, OC or not, I like to look at the existing world building, find a detail that I think is really neat, and then put it somewhere it doesn't belong. I love Star Sapphires conceptually, if not always in execution, and wanted to play with what it means to be powered by love, and to do it differently than the classic obsessive, toxic, homicidal Sapphire that Carol became back in the day before it was a proper corps, and Geoff did his lantern lore tinkering. But I also didn't want to make it a purely heroic, morally unambiguous thing. All emotions are neutral and love can go in a lot of directions. I knew it had to stem from some kind of pain, partially because that is the standard set in canon, and also because I feel that heartbreak is love at its most intense and difficult to control, and that level of extreme emotion is needed to attract a ring.

So I started thinking about the kind of person that would be capable of feeling love that deeply and then I realized that the most emotionally volatile time in most people's lives is the teen years. Especially when it comes to affection. I'm not excluding my ace friends here either, even if it's not romantic or sexual in nature, teenagers tend to form really strong bonds, due in part to the aforementioned emotional volatility. So I knew they needed to be a teenager.

I wanted him to be a boy because I think the love corps being gender biased makes no sense, and playing with masculine stereotypes of what love means interested me. I am a guy, I like to write what I know. I also wanted to play with the idea of what it means to be a guy in the first place. Conrad's boyfriend, Darren was kind of created to be a more standard masculine ideal: Big, strong, uncomplicated, aggressive. I think on a level Conrad envied that and the safety that came with it. Conrad on the other hand was more complicated. There's a lot of softness there, an emotional rawness even before the tragedy, and he doesn't hide that. He's very openly gay, honest and clear about that, but he's also not pressed to present in a certain way. He liked that Darren protected him, and he didn't like conflict. None of that was from a place of confidence necessarily, more an aversion to being inauthentic. He doesn't think highly of himself, but he's also not interested in pretending he's anything else. It's not that he doesn't care what people think of him, but he just can't be anything else than what he is.

Frankly, there's also a tendency to write black boys and men as wildly binary. Either hyper masc and aggressive or toothless and palatable. I didn't want Conrad to be so clearly defined.

So I had the basic outline of his vibe by that point, I didn't have all the specifics but I knew that I needed to create an awful situation for this emotionally vulnerable kid. That's where Gotham came into play. Bad things happen to people every day in Gotham, and despite that, the regular folk keep living their lives. It quickly became important to me that Conrad represent a very average person in a very strange city, with average ambitions and circumstances. Being raised in a working class home was a given, because I didn't want to lean too far into the poverty narrative, but I did want to draw some distinction there, and contrast that kind of worldview to that of the better resourced batfamily. I wanted to make the change in his status quo even more jarring by not making him someone with any ambition to be a superhero, and make his more typical understanding of the world clear and consistent.

I also wanted to make him the child of immigrants, but swerve away from the stereotype of the inflexible, emotionally unavailable first generation parents. They're not perfect, they are distant in how they respond to his sexuality, but it was important that they were smart, fairly progressive, kind people who clearly cared about their son and his happiness. I don't think a parent has to be wildly abusive to cause pain for their kid, sometimes they really are trying their best, and the kid knows they’re loved, but they still leave some sore spots to work through. I tried to take that approach with my characterization of Bruce too, actually.

A lantern ring is an incredibly powerful weapon, and Gotham doesn't usually feature characters that powerful, it doesn't fit the genre, and I knew that. So I kept him from training properly for the story so he was always struggling to figure out what he was doing as a way to not have to start him out with lantern-tier threats. On the note of the ring, I also was specific about countering the classic hypersexualized depictions of Star Sapphires, not out of any moral sensibilities (though I do suppose I’d feel odd putting a sixteen year old in a laser speedo), but because I wanted him to have to build the confidence to be showy if he even wanted that. His insecurities about his body are pretty standard stuff for any teenager, and while not a full on complex, I wanted to be a little realistic about what he was willing to wear. I wanted to emphasize that love is not just about attraction and sexuality…though yes, for him specifically those are factors. But specifically not the only places he draws power from. I like to think they all have a central love that they tether to, and branch from there. Were I to make another Star Sapphire after him, I would most likely go in a completely different direction and focus on a different facet of love to be the core of their power.

Anyway, so then I had "Gay Black Teen Boy from Gotham who is Nice Enough but Not Terribly Interested in Sticking His Neck Out." I then picked a life altering tragedy that was in some ways intended to mirror Bruce's and spark a similarly intense desire, but smaller and more focused in scope.

This may be hard to believe considering I made a character who is literally powered by love, but at that point I had no intention of having Conrad date anyone. The story initially was much more dour and lonely and I didn't anticipate a happy ending. It was going to be bittersweet at best, but tragedy was more likely. I changed my mind a number of times actually, frankly I think the fact that the story logically flows is amazing, because I was writing to at least four different goals over the course of it.

Damian made the most sense to me as a point canon character because of the ages I was going with, and how hard his personality contrasted Conrad's. I put them in the same school and tied him to the tragedy for convenience, honestly. I thought it would be interesting for Damian to be drawn in through his guilt and inability to leave a problem unsolved, and because of that grow to have a civilian friend who was disarming enough to not trigger his defenses, and THEN becomes wildly dangerous, so he'd already accepted him into his sphere and then had to deal with it. I...wrote them with more chemistry than I'd planned to (yes, Damian is a blorbo, I'll admit it okay), and suddenly it became less about the lore implications and impact on Gotham's power balance and more about whether or not either of them were capable of love anymore. For a long time the answer was no, their ill-considered hookup was supposed to hurt both of them to the point of closing off to each other...but I got to a point in my own developing worldview where writing that the answer is "Not everyone gets to get better" became untenable. And I didn't think that kind of pessimism even made sense for the story I'd written, its tone, and how I characterized Conrad and Damian.

He definitely developed as I wrote him. I generally only knew what I was doing two to three chapters in advance, so there was always some uncertainty, but I had a pretty good idea what drove Conrad early on, and knowing what he cared about was helpful. Sometimes when people talk about magic systems, they talk about creating a power ceiling and sticking to it. I kind of wanted to show you exactly what Conrad could be willing to do very early on, so there was always this question about where his center actually was. I assume you're up to date, so you saw the kind of darkness he could reach come up a few times, but notably always stopped before stepping completely off the path and into something more sinister. He's nice, he's so nice, and I wanted to show how nice isn't enough to build a moral framework on, and he's still figuring out what his actually is. That's going to continue being a theme for him even after the fic actually.

Somewhere in there it turned into an AU I wanted to explore more, and then I started projecting Conrad's arc further out, and I did make a few choices in service of that.

Anyway, on general character creation:

I think the most important thing is that a reader kind of understands what a character is about. Not that they should be predictable, but they should feel consistent enough that when you are surprised, you can think back and go "Oooh...no actually yeah, I see how that happened." And that only really happens when you as the writer know the core of what they care about. Conrad wants to feel Safe, and he wants to feel Accepted. That's universal stuff, but it's important because that's where his ambitions end. He doesn't know what he's going to be doing after high school, he doesn't think that far ahead. Darren was his world because he just doesn't think past the present. Because his desires are so simple, so primal, and become so painful for him, then I feel it logically follows that he's willing to break through what he thinks are his boundaries in order to achieve them. You can even threaten either of them separately, but when both are in jeopardy at once, he's willing to do just about anything really. So I as the author always knew what his tipping points were, and could sprinkle them around to watch him trip into them and hurt himself. I want the reader to be able to see where a scene is going and go "Oh. Oh no he's about to do something he'll regret." So consistency of desire is important, because it colors everything else. Then you can make him sacrifice those desires for something he's come to realize is more important, and boom, you have a cathartic/agonizing growth point and can recontextualize from there.

Themes are important for long work, but I like to figure out who the person is first and then pick a theme that they'd struggle with figuring out. Wonder Woman wouldn't struggle with any of this, and as such wouldn't make sense to explore the question through. I'm sure you can come up with a theme first, but I like starting with characters and figuring out what their story is.

Gender, sex, race, orientation, health status: These are all important to know, even if the story isn't about any of those things specifically, because every one of those details imply different experiences and invoke different stereotypes. So don't agonize, but do think about WHY you've made the character this way. Are you leaning on stereotypes? Have you accidentally recreated an unfortunate trope? I am a black writer, but even so, when writing a black character I need to be aware of what ideas I'm perpetuating. I wrote Conrad's anger the way I did specifically because I wanted to avoid supporting the image of an "angry black man," which doesn't mean that he cannot BE angry, but does mean that I need to be mindful of the way he is, and why.

There are a lot of spreadsheets and character question checklists and stuff out there, and I'm sure they're great for some people, but they irritate my ADHD and I feel like if I need to constantly refer back to what my character likes, especially my main character, then I don't have a strong enough sense of who they are, and I really need to, this is an OC, every decision I make is the only canon there will lever be, so I need to have a grip on what I want.

Don't be afraid to make them goofy. Conrad is so goofy, and it is part of why Damian becomes fond of him, but that's not why I made him like that. I made him offbeat and awkward (but not shy), to create a specific dynamic in his dialogue. He's not cool, he doesn't care about being cool, but he is still insecure, and that insecurity manifests in oversharing, in a certain shamelessness. He can't handle sitting with shame, his self esteem is too weak for that. So his lack of guile, and lack of panache are both fun quirks to help me differentiate his dialogue, but also important clues about how he takes things and then I can flatten those out when he's being serious, or scary. If a character starts out cool, and that's never challenged, then it's boring and you get into Mary Sue/Gary Stu territory. It's totally doable to start cool and then add nuance, but I think it's easier to start a little weird and then reveal why they're neat when the situation calls for it. My advice boils down to this: People love fuckups, they love humans, they even love monsters. The greatest sin is for someone to be boring, and being too sad or too perfect is boring. I have to let Batman have a sense of humor for that reason. 

Since creating Conrad I've also taken to picking some scenarios that people have a general standardized reaction to, making a different decision, then figuring out why that makes sense. Really early on I decided that he didn't get jealous easily, notably so, and worked out that it was partially because he doesn't feel entitled to anyone's attention, but also because if he loves someone, he wants them to be happy and that doesn't necessarily have to involve him. So figuring out that Jon had feelings for Damian didn't do anything to him, because, well, Jon is in the 8th grade, that would be ridiculous to feel threatened by at that point, but also because someone loving Damian that much to him is a good thing. He loves Damian, other people should too. Which is...kind of a good trait, if only it didn't stem so much from his lack of self-worth.

I think every character choice should be intentional. They don't all have to be deep, but the more specific you are, the more tools you have to play with, and the more ways you can twist them out of shape. When you make decisions and stick with them, you create limitations, and those limitations are where I think an interesting plot comes from.

Shockingly, I do have more thoughts, but I feel like this is already far more than you asked for, and I do need to finish chapter 12, so I’ll cut it here. 

Also…this ask truly made my evening, and as such I feel compelled to share a tease of how I plan to celebrate the completion of the fic.

Look at him go!

[thesconesyard]

Where the West Begins

4. Strange Hoofbeats

It was a long day. The sun beat down and McCoy’s head still pounded, even after more than a few cups of Christine’s extra strong coffee. McCoy stood up straight and stretched his back.

“Take it ye liked at least part of yer gift,” Scotty chuckled next to him as they worked.

“I could do without the headache,” McCoy laughed back. “But both were nice.” He flexed his hands in the new work gloves. His own had been wearing thin across the palms and Scotty was right, he would like to keep his hands from getting too rough.

The sound of hooves reached them as they worked.

“Who’s going out?” Scotty wondered aloud.

McCoy shook his head. “Those are coming in.”

Scotty stopped for a moment and listened. “Aye ye’re right. Did someone go after breakfast?”

“Dunno,” McCoy said with a shrug.

“Maybe a visitor,” Scotty. “Maybe Mr. Herndorff coming to talk to Jim.”

“Could be.”

Soon the people from the Enterprise ranch were expected in the city for Khan’s trial. Herndorff from the neighboring ranch had offered to send a few men over to look after things until everyone got back.

“No, Miss Gaila said I was to give it straight into Dr. McCoy’s hands and no one else,” said a frustrated voice coming near.

“Alright,” Chekov said, sounding annoyed. “I think he and Mr. Scott were over this way.”

McCoy and Scotty looked up as Chekov and another young man came around the corner.

“Ahh, Doctor, Mr. Mitchell has a letter for you,” Chekov said.

McCoy frowned, but moved forward as the other young man held forth an envelope.

“Miss Gaila was adamant that only you take it sir.”

“Well, tell her thanks. Job done as asked,” said McCoy, still looking down at the envelope and wondering what Gaila, who ran the saloon in town, could be sending. He looked up at the man and nodded.

“I’ll be on my way then. Gentlemen,” Mr. Mitchell nodded his head and turned around.

“What is Gaila sending ye?” Scotty asked curiously.

At once McCoy knew what the letter was.

“Oh!” He stuffed the envelope inside a pocket. “Probably something from Geoff she wanted to pass on,” he replied, trying to keep his voice casual.

Scotty frowned at him, but turned back to their work. “Ok.”

It took until after lunch before McCoy was able to get away from everyone and open the envelope. He had offered to help Christine and Uhura with the dishes and afterwards had gone to a peaceful corner of the house.

A reply came to your letter. I’ve got it locked up safe. I thought you’d want to keep other eyes from seeing it, seeing as how secretive you were. When you want it, come on in. —Gaila

Trepidation went through the doctor. What would the reply say? He sighed and then nodded determinedly to himself as he stood up. Quickly he stepped into the empty kitchen and opened the stove. The coals were banked and he held the letter in until it caught fire. He watched the flames spread up the edge of the paper for a moment, then closed the stove again and headed back out to work.

Scotty was curious, McCoy could tell, but he didn’t ask. Wouldn’t ask maybe, McCoy wasn’t quite sure. Either way McCoy gave it a few days before he headed to the pasture and whistled for Honey.

Jim had set Scotty and Chekov working on fences in the north pasture and McCoy hoped he wouldn’t be missed for a while. He saddled up Honey and headed towards town, nerves still twisting in his belly on what the reply letter might say.

Gaila’s was nearly empty when McCoy arrived in town, though he knew as the afternoon wore on it would fill up. The owner wasn’t in sight as McCoy walked in, so he strode to the bar.

“Dr. McCoy,” the bartender greeted him. “Haven't seen you in a while. Can I get ya something?”

“No thanks,” McCoy said, waving a hand. “Is Miss Gaila in?”

“Yes sir. I’ll let her know you’re here.” With a quick nod of his head the man went along the bar and down a hallway where McCoy knew the woman had her office.

“She says to come on back Doc,” the bartender said when he returned a minute later.

McCoy thanked the man and headed down the hallway. Politely he knocked on the open door frame and waited until Gaila called him in.

“It’s good to see you! Was wondering when you’d come in. Have a seat.” Gaila pointed to a chair by her desk.

“Thank you,” he said as he sat.

“Let me just get…” Gaila turned around to a safe behind her. “Didn’t know how secret you wanted it, but you did say lives could be at stake.” She rifled through a few papers. “Here it is.” She closed the safe then turned back around.

McCoy took it carefully.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Gaila said, getting up from her desk. “Just come on out when you’re done.”

McCoy nodded and thanked her again as the door closed. He looked at the writing on the envelope. His name, addressed in care of Gaila, in tall thin letters. Slowly he opened the envelope, nervous about the contents. A single sheet. He double checked the envelope before setting it aside and unfolding the letter with his heart pounding against his chest.

Once. Twice. A third time he read the message.

His racing heart slowed, and McCoy stood, smile slowly spreading on his face.

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: They Left You Wondering Just Who the Hell You Are

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

Warnings: blood, aftermath/memories of traumatic events, reference to (fear of) self harm/suicidal ideation

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 2725 || Approx reading time: 11 mins

They Left You Wondering Just Who the Hell You Are

Teaser: While Will was lost in his thoughts, staring at Jamie or the sky and avoiding looking any of us in the eye, Jamie was watching him, too, and whatever he saw scared the hell out of him.

Colette

Some days, Will seems like his old self.

Having Jamie back, seeing him alive and healing, is the thing that seems to give him the most energy. A lot of the time when Will is sitting with Jamie in their room, or every time Jamie manages to take a few more steps than he did the day before, he’s smiling. Laughing.

There are other moments, though. Quieter ones. More sombre. Darker.

When night falls, when it’s just the crackling fire that warms and illuminates the sitting room, I see him look away from the flickering light like it pains him.

In silent moments, though he is sitting still, I hear him catch his breath like he’s been running.

Sometimes, he stares down at his hands like he’s never seen them before.

He gazes out the window, watching the horizon, staring into the sky, even when there’s conversation swirling and bubbling around us, like he can’t hear a thing.

Wide-eyed, he watches Jamie. Like he’s terrified that if he falters in his tireless vigil for even an instant, his brother might disappear.

Jamie knows something’s different; Geoff knows, too. For a while, at Jamie’s behest, we did our best to keep Will sequestered in the sitting room or in his room or anywhere else, away from the kitchen and everything inside it and all the macabre possibilities it presented. Because while Will was lost in his thoughts, staring at Jamie or the sky and avoiding looking any of us in the eye, Jamie was watching him, too, and whatever he saw scared the hell out of him.

None of his fears came to pass, though, and now the smiles are beginning to outnumber the empty, haunted stares.

Some days.

“Hey.” I tap Will on the shoulder. He’s sitting in my father’s chair—which is quite amusing because no one else dares to go near it, and yet Will steals it every day and Father hasn’t said a word—with a book on his lap that he clearly has no interest in even pretending to read. “Come help me.”

“With what?”

“Dinner. Come on.”

That makes him roll his eyes like a saucy twelve-year-old, and something loosens in my chest that before was too tightly wound.

“Here.” I brandish a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes, still dark and beaded with water. “I’ll peel. You cut.”

He accepts the wooden board, raising his eyebrows when I nod my head toward the knives by the window. “Oh, you’re all trusting me with sharp things now, are you?”

Shit. I freeze, unsure of how to answer. “What are you talking about?”

With a sigh, he says, “I’m not that stupid, you know. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“You’re not stupid.” My face is hot. Of course he noticed. All he does—all we’ve been letting him do—is sit around and think and notice things. “I’m sorry.”

Will doesn’t answer, and as with every silence that stems from him these days, I wonder what thoughts are going through his head. Sometimes, it’s not so bad—still comfortable if a little strange, coming from him. This one, though, feels worrisome. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

I shouldn’t be surprised by this answer. It stings anyway. “You’re a terrible liar, Will.”

His knife slips, hitting the cutting board, and the heavy wooden handle sends it clattering to the floor.

“Fuck!” He jumps back, the knife just missing his foot. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a knife,” I say, but his face tightens, and again I wonder what is happening behind his eyes, what memories are repeating in endless torment that he won’t speak out loud. “I mean… I mean, it’s fine. You’re fine. I’ll grab a clean one.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not.” Where is all this coming from? I bite my lip when I turn away, hoping he can’t see the worry on my face.

He shakes his head, mutters, “Thanks,” once I hand him a fresh knife, then clamps his mouth closed and starts to cut again.

I keep my eyes on the silky ribbons of potato skin piling up under my paring knife. Maybe I’ve made a mistake, bringing him in here. “Will…”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t glance my way.

“You can talk to us, you know.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

I hate that fucking tone, the one he uses when he wants to piss off whoever he’s talking to, and I don’t understand why he’s using it against me. I breathe in through my nose, trying to scrape up my patience. “Anything. That’s all I’m saying.”

Thud. Metal on wood. Thud. Thud. “Why didn’t you ever tell us about your family?”

I nearly nick my thumb. He’s really determined to get under my skin. He knows very well I don’t want to talk about it.

But.

I glance over at him, at his gaze that doesn’t leave the bobbing knife, up and down, up and down. For an instant, I’m under an overcast sky, watching Jamie and Bree Cooper stare down the constabulary to make a trade for his freedom. For an instant, his bruises are still fresh—deep purple and mottled grey and stark against his skin. “Because I didn’t want to.”

“Why?”

If I bite down any harder on my tongue, it’s going to bleed. “Because…” I don’t know how honest I should be—how honest I want to be, or how honest he wants me to be. “I left because of a fight with my father. He said… He did something that hurt me. A lot. No, not like that,” I say quickly, watching his face change. “Just… We had different ideas about what my life should be, and when he realized those two ideas could never be reconciled, he had something to throw right in my face. And when he did that…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I said some awful things, too. In front of my stepmother. In front of Verie. And then I walked out the door and said I was never coming back.”

“You did come back, though.”

“I know.”

“Is all that why you never told us your real last name?”

I wince. “No. I…” God, it’s complicated. “Well, I was so pissed off. I didn’t want to use that name when I left. And then once we started IA…” I bite the inside of my cheek as I finish speaking. What would be different if Jamie had had the same foresight as me, all those years ago? If the constables hadn’t had his real name?

Silence.

When Will speaks again, the antagonizing tone is gone. “But I still don’t really get why you never even mentioned that you had a family.”

“You actually want to know? You probably won’t like it.”

He nods, still not looking at me.

“I thought…” God, it’s embarrassing now. “I was scared you three would… I don’t know. You and Jamie, your parents died, and Geoff, well, I’m not exactly sure what happened to his family, but I’m pretty sure they’re not around anymore, and I thought… I thought if you knew I had this big stupid fucking house and all this bullshit, you might… I don’t know.”

“You thought we’d be pissed about it?”

“Well, I thought maybe you’d resent me. That I had all that and…left.”

The time before he answers lasts a little longer, dragging between us. “That’s fucking stupid.”

I burst out laughing.

Despite how he still won’t meet my eye, how his hands are shaking ever so slightly, Will wears a tiny smile, too.

“Are things better now?” he asks. “Or…getting better, or…whatever?”

Are they? They must be. When I came back from Allan’s after finding Jamie there and promising to bring them somewhere safe, I was ready to do anything to get my father to send his carriage. I’d have driven it myself. Fallen to my knees and begged. Pulled out my knife and forced him to let us borrow it.

In the end, I did none of those things. I didn’t need to. He took one look at my face, listened to my request, and said yes.

“I think so,” I say, praying he’ll let the subject drop.

We move on to carrots after the potatoes. Will doesn’t complain about the work, which in itself is a wonder, because two months ago he’d have been squirming and doing anything he could to get out of preparing dinner.

“Did you see her?”

“Hmm?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts—ever-present worries about what the hell we’re going to do when winter is over and it’s time to move on.

“The day she left. Did you see her?”

Her. Who? It takes me a moment to realize he means Bree. Oh. “She was there when I first broke in. She was gone by the time I went back to get them with Geoff and my father.”

“Was she all right?” His voice is so quiet, almost timid, like I’ve never heard it before—like he’s scared to ask. Like he’s scared to know the answer.

He hasn’t mentioned her, or what was in the note she left, since I gave it to him, and to be honest, with everything else that’s been going on—being back at home and with Jamie’s recovery and worrying about everyone else every second of every day—I haven’t given her much thought, either.

“She wasn’t hurt bad after the trade,” I say carefully, though that’s something he knows because Allan mentioned the wound on her arm in conversation with Jamie once. She wasn’t hurt wouldn’t be true on its own, but She looked fucking miserable, while true, doesn’t seem like the wisest thing to say to him, right now or ever.

Only the knife on the cutting board answers, until finally he says, “That’s good.”

His knife slips again, and this time a sliver of red appears on his finger. With a hiss, he jumps back, though he manages not to drop his knife on the floor this time.

Time slows, blood seeping from the line along his skin. Will just stares at it.

“Hey.” Dropping what I’m doing, I reach for a clean towel. “Wash that. Come on. Put something on it to stop the bleeding.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m…”

After pulling him over to the washbasin and making him clean the cut, I press the towel against his hand. “Will. You’re fine. It’s just a cut. It happens to everyone.”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. That was stupid. I’m an idiot.”

“For fuck’s sake. No, you’re not.” I grab his other hand and force him to hold the towel himself. “I almost cut myself earlier. Does that make me an idiot?”

Nothing would make me happier than if Will were to look me in the eye, smirk, and say, “Well, yeah.”

He just shakes his head and mutters, “I guess not.”

If I let him, he’ll drift away, wander off still clutching the cloth to his hand, lost in his thoughts, and I can’t help but think his thoughts are probably not the best place for him to be right now.

“Stay here for a few minutes,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Hold that till it stops bleeding and I’ll help you wrap it up. I can finish the rest of the chopping. It’s not much.”

“Thanks, Sp…” Realizing what he’s saying halfway through the word, he stops, and then I get what I’m looking for—a laugh. Short and a little dark, but a chuckle nonetheless. “Thanks, Colette.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, turning back to the cutting board. Racking my brain for a topic that will distract him, I settle on, “Why don’t I teach you how to play chess tonight?”

His answer is immediate. “Ugh. No.”

That’s a bit of a surprise. I thought he’d want a bit of levity. A bit of fun. “Really? Why not?”

“I don’t need to learn chess,” he mutters. “It’s just another boring thing to do ins—”

He stops.

When I look up from the cutting board, he’s clenched his jaw. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Will. What?”

Fussing with the towel against his finger, he starts, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…”

“But…” I echo, hoping it’ll prompt him to say more. When he hesitates, I add, “You can tell me. I promise I won’t think you’re ungrateful.”

“I just… I…” Will sighs. “I’ve been inside. For… For so long.”

Of course.

Weeks stuck in the dark as a prisoner. Now, weeks stuck here, no longer a prisoner—but not far from it.

“I’m sorry, Will.” The last of the carrots swim in front of me. “I know it must be hard. Really fucking hard.”

“Yeah.” He blows out a long breath. “And I get it. I… I get it. Jamie can’t go anywhere. He—They—They’re probably still looking for me. Us. And now it’s winter and moving around is twice as hard. And we’re lucky to be here at all, and I know that. I know that. But still…”

He quietens, and I know I won’t get much more out of him.

I wait for my vision to clear before I dip my hands in some clean water and turn to him. “Let’s see how that finger’s looking.”

Gingerly, I check on the state of his cut. It already seems to be finished bleeding. “Beautiful.” This hyperbolic accolade makes him snort.

“Here’s a different idea,” I say when it’s bandaged properly. “Want me to cut your hair?”

This, he considers, which is a good thing, because that moppy head is a complete mess.

“Come on,” I say, elbowing him in the side. “You look like a shaggy dog.”

“Yeah,” he says, reaching up to tug at his hair, which is brushing his shoulders now. “Guess you probably should. It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”

“You can say that again.”

I don’t say the next thing that comes to mind, which is that my silly sister is probably going to mourn the loss of his hair—I’ve caught her gazing at him quite openly when she obviously thought no one was paying attention—and I’m probably going to have to make sure she doesn’t do anything unseemly like steal any of it to squirrel away in a locket somewhere. Even though I’ve already told her more than once that pining after the mess of a man in front of me is a ridiculous idea.

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” I warned her the first time I caught her watching him with stars in her eyes, “stop it, now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed.

I rolled my eyes and hoped she’d listen.

The second time, I smacked her on her arm and said, “What are you doing? You’re courting disaster. Look at him. He’s a disaster.”

“I know,” she said, her cheeks bright red.

It was only yesterday that I had to say, “Verie, you’re being an idiot. If Father knew you were pining after him, of all people, he’d kick all of us out of here faster than you could blink.”

She just sighed and didn’t bother to deny or argue.

My sister, a naïve fool, falling in love with my friend, an oblivious fool. In fact, the only good thing about this whole stupid scenario is that he’s so fucking oblivious, he hasn’t noticed Verity practically tripping over herself to sit next to him and making excuses to be close to him at every turn.

As if she can sense that I’m thinking about her, Verie herself skips into the kitchen, rosy-cheeked and smiling. “This looks fun! What’s going on here?”

“Chopping vegetables,” I say, rolling my eyes before shooting her a warning look. “Yes. It’s been thrilling.”

She throws back a split-second glare of, You’re so annoying, Lettie before she notices that Will’s hand has a new bandage. “What happened?”

“Kitchen brawl,” says Will solemnly. “But you should see the other guy.”

The look of utter confusion on Verie’s face is priceless. When Will jerks his head toward the pile of chopped carrots, she nearly tumbles over with giggles.

“You’re both ridiculous,” I say. But I, too, am smiling. And the best part: So is Will.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles, @whither-wander-whump 💕

[Banner ID: A narrow horizontal, rectangular banner featuring a barred archway. The bars and the stone walls evoke the feeling of a dungeon or prison. There are burning candles on either side of the archway. The title of the story, The Prince of Thieves, appears in white text in the centre of the image. The author's username, abbreviated to LPS from littleperilstories, appears in the bottom right corner in partially transparent text. End ID.]

[milfygerard]

hi hi hi i’m sorry about the everything in life for a distraction i would love to hear your detailed thoughts on your favorite mcr albums or taylor albums or a detailed ranking of either i just love Music Opinions and also i hope things get better soon<3

thank you sm for sending in <3

im terrible at ranking so ill turn to opinions hmmmm

My favorite mcr album changed by day hour minute but i think i wanna talk about.....bullets....yeah bc bullets is so insane as just a sheer proof of concept, like an expression of raw skill and talent that was growing within this band. Rays guitar work alone was enough for it to make complete sense for major labels to be knocking at the bands door begging to suck them off and then they also had GERARD!!! And this was even before mikey really could write bass parts and frank was still not really in the band like its just ray gerard and geoff (and otter who wrote drum parts that r cool but also somehow out of his skill range? girl you MADE THEM). The fact that vampires not onky exists but was like the second or third song written? Like before mcr gerard either never wrote music or wrote shitty three chord throwaway punk that existed as an excuse to print band stickers and arent even good enough to save on tape and then you decide to start writing for real to cope with major national level trauma and your first song is SKYLINES??? and youre next songs are VAMPIRES and OUR LADY OF SORROWS???? and oh my god the vocals gerard gives on the albuk as a completely untrained vocalist who did one musical once in middle school and otherwise never sang professionally unless you count crazy kids song in breakfast monkey. and then you hear the vocals on fucking vampires???? Like gerard doesnt exactly sing like celine dion on bullets but the raw harmony work and ability to PERFORM and really stretch the emotions of a song and do whatever strange or vulnerable thing is needed to sell the track. Theres still few songs more affecting than early sunsets. Like i fully think gerard is probably the strongest vocalist in the emo scene just because of their ability to completely and utterly sell you on the songs emotions (not just anyone can sing im not okay and get away with it) and thats before all the developing technical talents both already present like how gerard can just toss a melody onto a track without thinking about it or the fact gerard did a lot of the base writing for mcr while fucking barely knowing guitar how did that even work girl. Like i havent even mentioned the lyrics??? How do you. Like you can tell both that gerard never learned how to write songs and also that gerard listens to so much music that he can just fake it anywayyheres like 2 songs with actual choruses on the album and neither of them are the self proclaimed pop song h4h which opens with a queen riff?????? ans then is like a hardcore version of a beatles pop song????dont talk to me about drowning lessons. deomolition lovers!?!?! half of these songs are just poems that gerard hammered into songs and theyre so like. genuinely so incredible and they work??like the album works! as a cohesive piece! it coheres!

and thats the first album. Id say my favorite ts album is probably evermore though i might actually have less to say on it just bc i havent had it since 2015. Evermore is just so....ANGSTY!!! it feels like a complete fulfillment of what she was exploring on folklore with the fictional framing devices and keeping the songs clearly personal while also removing herself in a way she never really has before. It feels like a level of introspection through art that taylor has always been both pushing towards and shying away from because too much introspection or strangeness or even pulling away from the diaristic idea too much never worked with where taylor was at with her career. Evermore had a new collaborator, and the massive success of folklore as well as the continued quarantine gave her both an unprescedented level of artistic isolation personal confidence and professional security that allowed her to just go "fuck it" and write fucking. cowboy like me and dorothea and coney island and closure and she GOT AWAY WITH IT!!! like the albums been out for 3 years or something like that and I still feel like i havent fully processed its existence despite listening to it constantly. It truly felt like she was unshacked and was able to write about herself while also completely pulling away from any sort of literal Truth and going crazy with concept and the way she writes feels so unconstrained from the rules she would sometimes set for herself, it felt like a natural evolution from the freedom she felt jumping into the lover era but its past the honeymoon phase and like it is pop music but its also not scared to be...not pop music if that makes sense? She really fully settles into folk as a genre for the first time and it lets her writing flourish. Songs with no choruses songs with barely any structure at all lyrics that stretch at the ends of verses and fun bouncy wordplay and just allowing herself into a characters life and seeing how it fits her. She has some straight up ren faire tracks on here liek willow is just a collection of similies and metaphors she likes smushed together over a lute and its so GOOD. It feels like she was allowed to really live in adulthood as a woman in her early thirties who creates art because she loves it and because it keeps her alive ALSO proof that she needs to keep collaborating w new ppl bc whenever she does you can feel her pushing herself harder and she becomes so willing to try these new kind of weird things that she may have never tried otherwise aughhhh!!!! i didnt even talk about coney island!!!! I love how moody and dour the whole project is it feels like November where fall drags you into a cold unforgiving winter and you're just trying to survive with your sanity and any of your personal relationships intact. its so!!! tbh its SO new england also which makes me biased. ok thats all

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay Visuals: My Mother Told Me

This video was released on the 24th of April, 2021, and currently sits at a very-impressive 6.7 million views! It features Jose Rosario Jr (in his first collabration with Voiceplay (on a full-length video at least)), who for a few years performed with Rockapella! (Rockapella is an acapella group who have been around for over 35 years, they were part of the OG Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego show, and they were a bit of an inspiration to Voiceplay (originally 4:2:Five) in their early days).

I wasn't actually sure whether or not this video would give me a lot of moments to point out/talk about (it's been a while since the last time I watched it), but it's obviously a big production (epic, even), and I will undoubtedly be talking about its "sister video", Valhalla Calling, when I eventually get around to it, so long story short, I'm doing this. Let's go!

Each vocalist got filmed separately for this one, each with their own backdrop (and then were all spliced together for "group shots" in the video), so each member gets their own picture when I'm talking about them in this post!

Jose is wearing some textured blanket-looking thing, plus a plain brown shirt/tunic, and he's got a pair of blueish lines on his face that almost look a little bit like scars. He's standing in front of a sort of desert plains landscape, maybe with some large red mountains/rock formations?

Oh yeah and also it's a little hard to see, but just at the neckline of Jose's shirt, underneath his beard, there's a cool viking(?) symbol on his neck that also shows up in Valhalla Calling (and on the merch for that video too)!

Eli appears to have a bit of dirt and grime on his skin (which would be intentional of course), as well as some cool-looking tattoos (even on his head!) (fake ones for the video of course), and some very heavy eye makeup. He's standing in front of some grass, rocky cliffs (possibly with water down below?), and sea mist

(Also Eli is credited with "virtual production" on this one, so I guess all these greenscreen backgrounds were his doing? Massive shoutout to Eli!)

J has the same symbol on his forehead that Jose had on his neck/chest, as well as some white powder-looking makeup stuff on his cheeks. No clue what kind of top/shirt that is, but I like the big fur coat, and cool arm cuff things as well! He's standing in front of a frozen (or partially-frozen) lake, with snow-covered mountains/rock formations behind it.

(Fun fact: Geoff re-used a few costume pieces from My Mother Told Me when filming the videos for his covers of Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold and I See Fire!

Layne has got a makeup design to Eli, with similiar tattoos on his face, and a bit of extra dirt/grime as well. He's got fur trimmings(?) on his shoulders like Eli, but it looks more like the fur that J is wearing. He's standing in front of wide open plains I guess? I'm not sure, I can't make out a ton of detail.

I think Layne's outfit might be my favourite one of this video; it seems the most complex, like it has the most going on with it, and I like the patterned cuff design thing on his right arm!

And I haven't forgotten Geoff, of course I haven't forgotten Geoff, and seriously oh my god

I'm honestly not sure if I could give a good description of Geoff's outfit even if I tried, but it works! (Also wait I literally only just realised that, once more, he's the only one in the video with exposed shoulders (well, one exposed shoulder, but still!))

This honestly might be one of Geoff's most terrifying looks of any Voiceplay video so far, if not the most terrifying. Vampire!Geoff in This Is Halloween was "scary" in the "yes please give me more of it" (i.e. hot) way. Oogie Boogie!Geoff in Oogie Boogie's Song was just theatrical and entertaining. Mr Hyde!Geoff in Kidnap The Sandy Claws was (to me at least) just a little bit strange and hard to wrap my head around. But Geoff here? This is "makes you want to move very quickly in the opposite direction" scary!

(So like well done to Rick Underwood on the makeup (but in regards to everyone else as well))

Jose, J, Eli, and Layne all got cool aesthetic landscapes as their backdrops. Geoff got darkness and STUFF ON FIRE (...yeah that checks out 😆)

Even the fingernails!!! Even the fingernails look like they've got grime on them! (Also, Geoff at his least-terrifying moment of the video)

Aaaand we're back to "time to run away very fast" mode!

(Also yes Geoff's tattoos and makeup are very cool as well)

Not that Geoff is the only one in this video that I wouldn't wanna pick a fight with!

Jose is credited with "additional acting direction" in the description, so I guess he maybe camw up with/directed some of these kind of moves?

Oh hey Geoff has that symbol on him as well! I wonder if Layne and Eli have got it somewhere on them too?

Wait hang on what is Eli holding?

A better shot of Layne's face tattoos and the cool sleeve thing!

Geoff doing a similar hand movement to the one he did in Bang! (which was my previous post actually), after he had just done a bit of an impressive bass-vocal-run (or something like that), except this time it's after holding a quite low note (a subharmonic I think?) for like 6 seconds.

Oh I think Eli was holding his cape?

Yes I can see the tattoo, thank you Jose! 😂

Also did Geoff do a bit of hair colouration for this video? Because yes he's got a bit of grey in his hair now, but not that much grey, and it's not always that noticeable (though personally I do love the grey streak he often has in his bangs, it's rather fetching if I do say so myself <3)

Run fast, and run far!

And that's the video! Man, can you believe these are the same dudes (well except Jose) that did the Aca Top 10 videos, being all silly and fooling around? Acting skills were freaking on point here! Everyone crushed it!

It's a great arrangement as well (shoutout to Layne!). The song is actually just one single verse, which here is sung like 5 or 6 times over, but you barely even notice it (if at all) because the whole production is just so mind-blowingly good!

I also wanted to do this video because I'll be skipping over You're My Best Friend and Man In The Mirror, so this'll be the last video I'm doing where J is actually a part of the group. It was of course very sad that he left Voiceplay, but he's come back as a guest artist in like 6 full-length videos now (not even counting the minis), and hopefully he might one day return to Voiceplay full-time, once he's done with his stint in the US Navy band!

[dangelqueentmnt16]

Alistair Crump fanfic

Pov teenage medium reader, that moves into the mansion with her mom and step dad- (written for the pov of all genders!)

It was late September when you moved into the old dusty mansion. You never wanted to move from your hometown. But your stupid step dad Geoff made you move with your mom & him! He had a good job doing his boring business crap, that you viewed as kissing rich company ass! But your mom insisted it would be just fine after all your 18 now , what's the worst that could happen!? In your mind A LOT!

The place was very beautiful, but dusty and unclean. But this house was like a time capsule, but sad due to being unloved for so long. Sep 30th-

Oct 15th-

Today is early October, the air is fresh and crisp and the leaves have only started to change. But the air you feel is very charged with a strange new feeling almost, like an eerie energy or a clouded mist!

Oct 16th-

As the days go by, you spend your time like you do most days. Painting, photography, and making your nerdy animations. Would read more like you used to. but lately when you read, you feel angry eyes on you; like someone trying to read your soul…?

Oct 17th you spent time outside, looking to sketch the eerie yet peaceful graveyard. It was just so full of lively characters. And trust me you could feel it, yet you dismissed it. you feel bored and so you wandered more.  you turned a corner and noticed a cellar, you made the decision to follow it down. There you found multiple catacombs under your new home. Eventually it got too dark so you took your phone out to use its flashlight. As the light turned on you found a room with what you could tell to be a Seance room. With a Crystal ball in the middle of the table, you scanned the room with amazement. "Woah.." a whisper left your mouth, "w- why is this here?" You asked yourself not expecting an answer. You then had the same uneasiness you felt usually when you knew you were being watched… "Look, I know you're there. So do us both a favor and either fck off, or carry out what business you have with me!" The room grew silent again, you sighed… " look I haven't been interested in interacting with spirits for a while, but believe it or not I'm a medium… and I know you're there… so keep hiding but you're not fooling me!" You fell silent one more time listening for anything. It's creepy the way the room only got more quiet. You felt like a cat was hiding silently in a bush ready to pounce on its prey! And you were the prey. You sighed and turned saying "well you had your chance, I'm leaving now!" turning sharply around, you suddenly bumped into something. You were taken back a bit, the thude of your phone falling echoed around you! It was now dark so you couldn't tell what you had bumped into at first. but you definitely felt fabric? Maybe it was a clothing measurement dummy? Or?...you felt around with your hand more. Eventually a dark chuckle erupted from the darkness, making you jump back falling on your butt! You jumbled around onThe ground for your phone. only to grab it and shine it at the direction of the sound! But once it was shing its rays in that direction, nothing was there? You swallowed harshly with a gulp, grabbing at your chest you felt your heart beating with waves of adrenaline. You shined your light everywhere, but nothing was seen, no one was there!?

ALISTAIR CRUMP POV-

This human is so very interesting, I have been watching them for weeks now. I watched their every move, studying them like we were playing a game of chess. They were quite attractive, their skin, eyes, and hair seemed so different? But I'll be damned if I let this one human change any plans I have. Still I couldn't help but notice they gave off an energy I could only describe as psychic but, they seemed to keep silencing this part of themselves? SEP 30TH-

OCT 15TH-I have been watching them all around the house, and discovered their interests. But let me tell you when I found out they like to read I shut that down so fast!! I hate people who can read, they always think they have the upper hand! But this human will learn I'm incharge very soon, when the moon is right!! 

OCT- 17TH The human has found their way down into the cellar. I followed them around very close behind, doing my best to not be noticed. But once we made it in the Seance room, their energy changed rather drastically! one minute there gocking at the structures and placing of the room. Until they weren't, they then turned in my direction unexpectedly? And surprisingly They began to speak to me. "Look, I know you're there. So do us both a favor and either fck off, or carry out what business you have with me!" This didn't react well with me, I see this to be a challenge, the little bitch! But yet I stood my ground intrigued by this mortal's next action? They sighed as I stayed silent and watched from my place in the room, " look I haven't been interested in interacting with spirits for a while, but believe it or not I'm a medium… and I know you're there… so keep hiding but you're not fooling me!". This surprised me a bit, they were giving me info I needed to have a possible handle around them! How stupid is this mortal!? They only sighed again with my lack of interaction, but at this point I wanted to see if this human is really so confident,as they make themselves out to be. Maybe a bit of a scar will make them shrink down to size! I found my way around the mortal and landed myself right behind them. I sat there fully materialized. Yet there was no reaction for a while as they still scanned the room for anything they could see. Then letting out another sigh they quickly spun around fast, bumping right into me! Their little rectangular lantern fell to the floor, as they sat face deep in my chest. They began to explore and feel around me to understand, what could possibly be in their way? I could sense the fear of this puny mortal. Enjoying their fear, I burst into a dark chuckle. Who's the Superior one here now, I thought as they fell back in terror. Oh How pathetic!! They shined their light at me as I dematerialized. There they saw nothing, but me I saw every last inch of confusion and fear. But yet a strange confidence still lingers in their face! It's been awhile since I had this kinda thrill… this mortal will be so much fun to break!!! Mehehe!!!-

[isfjmel-phleg]

June 2023 Books

The War Librarian by Addison Armstrong

The concept, regrettably, was more compelling than the execution. It was one of those historical fictional novels that feel more like contemporary people in costume than anything actually reflecting the times. And I had to skip a scene. However, I am interested in learning more about actual WWI librarians if given the chance, so that's something.

Peter Pan and Wendy by J. M. Barrie (reread)

Reread on a whim. It's so good. It gets better every time I reread it, and I've been rereading since I was about eight.

A Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan

Oddly enough, this book captured the tone of historical fiction better than actual historical fiction. It's technically fantasy, but really more like an alternate Victorian Era but with dragons, told as a memoir by a scientist in her old age. There were a few content things I didn't love, and sometimes the narrative dragged a bit for me, but the protagonist was a striking character, and I appreciated her relationship with her husband.

Why Didn't They Ask Evans? by Agatha Christie

Riveting in the usual Christie way. I need to catch up to the miniseries one of these days.

Dark Lord of Derkholm by Diana Wynne Jones

Jones being satirical about fantasy is of course hilarious. Not a quick and easy read, but worth the effort. I wish a scene with an implied SA had been handled differently (introducing this topic at all felt jarring with the tone of this book), but on the whole, I enjoyed it!

Midnight for Charlie Bone by Jenny Nimmo

Forgive me, everyone, I wasn't particularly captivated by this one and don't feel especially inclined to finish the series. Not exactly sure why.

A Crown of Chains by Erin Phillips

This is the Esther-but-with-fairies retelling. You already know how I feel about it.

The Secret of Nightingale Wood by Lucy Strange

Middle-grade historical fiction of the mysterious house and family secrets variety, so naturally that was right up my alley!

The Creeping Shadow and The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud

I don't have anything intelligent to say about this series, but I did enjoy it a lot more than I expected to. Stroud's style is a joy to read. (And the series itself has much less of a focus on Romance than I was expecting, judging from how it's talked about around here--yes, it's there, but it's not The Focal Point, and I appreciated that, because the protagonists' platonic bonds were pretty fantastic already.)

Mirror of Danger by Pamela Sykes (reread)

I'm on a reread-the-haunting-mid-twentieth-century-children's-book kick. Bear with me. This one's a ghost story, but it's also about clinging to sameness in the face of loss, to an unhealthy degree, and about the cultural clash between a protagonist who was raised in isolation by a very Victorian elderly woman, and her cousins, who are very much products of the story's present (the 1970s)--which I find fascinating.

Comics

Mercury Falling by Todd Dezago (reread)

See recent posts. You all know how I feel about this one.

Stargirl: The Lost Children by Geoff Johns

I liked this one more than I expected! Goodness knows I have Issues with Johns and what he did to the YJ kids, but here he's writing a protagonist whom he created and handles well, and the entire series reads like a love letter to Golden Age comics and forgotten child characters in general. I'm very curious to see what happens next with these characters, especially now that Secret is back (reunite her with her friends!).

[fallingblueroses]

A little snippet I've written that I might flesh out later. In this one, Layne is, on paper and in public, the owner of Stein Productions, a large and powerful entertainment company. Geoff is the power and brains behind Layne's throne. Eli is a government agent trying to bring Geoff down. Earl is one of Geoff's bodyguards/security people. And Kathy is a cleaning lady caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

***

Kathy tried to keep a calm face as the black-suited security guard led her off the elevator on the thirty-fifth floor with a hand on her shoulder. Her heart was pounding in fear and her palms were sweaty. She'd been vacuuming an office when she'd accidentally knocked a folder off of the desk, and had been trying to gather them up when the guard had caught her. He'd dismissed her explanation with a curt "Tell it to the boss."

He led her down a hallway and through a door, down another short hall, and then stopped in front of a door. Kathy could hear piano music coming from the inside as the guard pressed an intercom button beside the door. "Mr. Castellucci?"

The music didn't stop, but a deep voice said "Yes, Earl?"

"I caught the janitor going through papers in Mr. Stein's office, sir."

"Ugh. Not that old trick again." A dramatic sigh. "Bring him in."

"Her, sir."

Irritation tinged the voice. "Well, bring her in then."

The guard opened the door and pushed Kathy into a recording studio. A black piano was in the center of the room, and the pianist stood up and turned to them as they entered. Kathy's breath hitched a little. She hadn't expected "the boss" to be a handsome, fit man with graying brown hair and wearing a pair of jeans and a black sleeveless shirt.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked Kathy over. "Good old Jacobson. Right on time." His face hardened. "So. What did he send you to look for?"

She swallowed. "I wasn't trying to find out anything. I knocked some papers off the desk while I was vacuuming and I was just picking them up."

"Hmm." He put a finger under her chin and turned her face from side to side. "What were you doing in Mr. Stein's office, then? We have people to keep our private offices clean."

"I'm just here for the day to cover a staff shortage. I usually work--"

"I don't care. Answer me."

"The supervisor told me to sweep all the offices and hallways on that floor."

The boss walked back to the piano and sat down. His eyes closed as he began to play again. "I'll have to have a talk with him. He knows better than to send temps to that floor." He fell quiet as he played.

The guard cleared his throat. "Mr. Castellucci, sir? What should I do with her?"

"Put her in one of the guest suites. I'll deal with her later."

"Yes, sir." The guard pushed her out of the studio and back toward the elevator. "He's got something special planned for you." His voice was tinged with malicious amusement.

Kathy said nothing. The guard took her to the forty-fifth floor, down another hallway, then unlocked a door and pushed her inside before locking the door behind her. She blinked in surprise to find herself in a comfortable hotel-style room, complete with a mini-fridge and television. The ensuite was stocked with toiletries. It was almost as if she was a guest, not a prisoner.

She laid down on the bed and tried to stay calm. She had to think of a way to convince the boss to let her go.

***

Geoff sighed to himself once the door had closed behind Earl and the woman. Strangely enough, he believed her story. There had been genuine fear in her eyes, not the bravado that Jacobson's agents usually put up. Still, it wouldn't do to just put her back on the street. Not just yet. He'd have his people check her out first.

He'd have to remind Layne to keep his office door locked. Layne was good at his job, but he had no ambition and precious few brains. It had been Geoff who had transformed Layne's little hole-in-the-wall studio into a multimillion dollar empire, strong enough to step onto the American political scene.

And if he was honest with himself, lately he'd been bored stiff. Things were running well, even with Jacobson's meddling. Geoff missed the days of playing bodyguard, of digging into his rivals' secrets, of pulling strings and triggers. Now he had people to do all that for him.

He pulled the cover over the piano keys and sighed. Hopefully the woman Earl had captured would provide at least a little bit of entertainment.