#usually i do a wirt from over the garden wall but not this year! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cagedchoices · 1 year

Text

GET TO KNOW THE AUTHOR.

name: mel

pronouns: they/them/theirs

preference of communication: mainly tumblr IMs these days, but i have discord and wire and occasionally i will drop my info on tumblr, give it out privately if asked, or add if someone else is looking to add. it can take me a while to work up the courage to message someone in the first place and i'm really... not good at the usual social cues of "hey how are you/good how are you?/what have you been up to?" but i'm usually game to chat about other stuff

most active muse: Caleb. i've had a lot of other muses but he's been the one i've been most consistently able to write in the slightly over 3 years since i first started writing him.

experience/how many years: i had a couple false starts trying to set up rp blogs for Samwise Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Wirt from Over the Garden Wall back in 2014 and 2015? but i just never really managed to get off the ground and start writing in-character for them because i was super heavily intimidated by the rpc and too nervous to approach anyone. finally in january 2017 i stumbled across a parody of Portal 2 on youtube called the Unauthorized Musical and discovered that there were already a handful of muns on tumblr who had picked up characters specifically based on that production and regularly hosted rabbit streams where they'd watch the video again together and welcomed anyone who wanted to join to do so. i noticed nobody was really writing any antagonistic characters against them so i wound up setting up a blog for GLaDOS and following everybody i met during the stream and that was essentially how i became hooked on tumblr rp. i've been kicking around on and off for about 7 years now.

best experience: there's so many to choose from, but i think i'd have to say my best experience was when i started writing Caleb. i was just fresh off watching Westworld season 3, i was actually feeling more compelled at the time to try and write either Dolores, Maeve, Clementine or Teddy but i felt like i wouldn't do any of 'em justice. i ended up making a sideblog to my old multimuse after deciding i would try writing Caleb, and that's where i almost immediately connected with melody/aworldofyou/copiesofme and was enthusiastically introduced to a bunch of other muns residing in the tiny but mighty westworld rpc. 🥰

rp pet peeves: one is pretty much the same as Sandra said; making a new main blog in the spur of the moment. exhausting all energy on curating a distinct aesthetic for icons/banners/promos/custom themes/etc, and then completely losing interest in a week or 2 without ever getting to write that character. and then more often than not the process gets repeated down the line until that person either becomes overwhelmed from having too many blogs to manage or too many memes to answer or too many starters to write.

i also don't particularly love memes that promote making rp into a popularity contest or seeking an almost constant stream of validation from other people. things like "send a _ and i'll rate your blog on a scale of 1 to 10/using a scale template" i try to stay far away from. arguably every notification you get on tumblr is an instant dopamine hit just like all social media is but. idk there was just something about those blog rating/character rating memes that made them feel more addictive to send and receive than like, taking the time to give someone your honest opinion on how you feel about them as a person or on their writing and characters and such.

another similar thing is reblog chains to the effect of 'reblog this if you actually like following me/seeing me on the dash.' i really don't like these. there's a level of self-deprecation and guilt-tripping involved and when people already feel awfully low and vulnerable to negative self image this just makes it worse. especially when people post with side commentary like 'oh nobody will reblog this from me lol.' and i don't think they're always necessarily aware that this is manipulative behavior, but...it is. even just the way the source post is typically phrased, it preys on insecurity and it makes me sad when i do see mutuals reblogging posts written like this because then i'm like. just sitting there thinking "i'm not a spambot so...if i didn't like following you or seeing you on my dash i would not be following you??"

other forms of reblog chains like 'reblog to give the person you're reblogging from a hug' or 'reblog this and say something nice about the person you reblogged from' are far better in my opinion because they don't inherently contain that same level of insecurity. they put the focus on lifting up and supporting the person you're reblogging from instead of centering on yourself.

plots or memes: i like both but i am very much a memes person because i feel like i'm not very good at plotting.

long or short replies: i don't really have a preference! but lately my thing generally seems to be letting the length creep up so my replies just get longer and longer over time. i never expect anyone to match me, but like. the one thing that would crush my soul is me posting like. 5-7 paragraphs and getting back a one sentence or one word response 😭

are you like your muses: i have a few things in common with caleb, one of them being that we're both neurodivergent and just trying to exist in a society where it is typically seen as undesirable to be classed as such. i stumbled across a venn diagram a while back comparing and contrasting common traits associated with ptsd and autism and it has given me a lot to take into consideration in the way that i portray caleb

tagged by: @k4ndall

tagging: @gunslingcr @paddyfuck @weirdwonderful @killjoysanonymous @prettydead & you (not labeled)

#i'm an underachiever — out.#dash games.#in which getting to know me means getting to know...that i ramble a lot

2 notes · View notes

irresistiibles · 1 year

Text

was that freddy carter? oh no no, that was just wirt, a canon character from the over the garden wall. they are twenty three years old, use he/him, and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here

a few weeks

what is your character’s job

he's a full time student and works part time at a record store.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

because i like to stress my characters out he's right from the middle of the last episode. he talks to the beast and grabs greg and is pretty sure they're getting out of the woods and then he woke up here. he's very stressed about it, but wirt tends to be very stressed about everything

has any magic affected your character

nope!

any other info

everyone year i take a halloween vibe sort of character. usually it's coraline but we're mixing it up this year with wirt.

what an anxious nerd i love him. this is the type of guy who genuinely thinks he should tell a girl his feelings by giving her a cassette tape full of his recorded clarinet music and poetry. i wish i was joking.

oldest brother but in an eldest daughter sort of way. if get it you get it.

he's very nervous about the fact that he's here without greg. like yes, greg annoys him and he's not always sure he even wants a younger brother, but last he saw his brother was nearly dead in the woods he's got so many concerned

such a stubborn man oh my god. if you get him to dig his heels in on something you will never get him to change his mind

at the same time he is generally a pushover. here's the thing. he's nervous about what he should be doing all the time and feels like he doesn't know what that is, so when someone else gives him an instruction he's usually happy to take it

pretty logical science sort of guy.

plot ideas

other students. his major is currently undecided, cause of course it is but i feel like he could use a study buddy or two.

a roommate. he's pretty easy to live with except for the fact he's in the school marching band and you will have to listen to him practice his fucking clarinet every now and then.

coworkers or anyone who comes into the store he works at semi regularly.

frog hunt buddies. i know this sounds so random, but wirt probably assumes he'll eventually find greg doing something like frog hunting, so every weekend or so he goes out to look for frogs

some friends to force him to have fun. wirt can relax and chill and have a good time it just takes some effort you gotta fight him on it a little bit. otherwise he will just spend all his time in washington taking classes, making money, and looking for greg.

a bad influence perhaps. like i said wirt is pretty easy to influence in general. his sense of morality is pretty decent, but he can almost always be talked into things.

#hw: intro #( intro && wirt )

0 notes

lotusthewriter · 1 year

Text

And this bird you cannot change

Fandoms: Steven Universe, Over the Garden Wall

Rating: G

Relationships: Wirt & Greg

Characters: Wirt, Greg Universe; MENTIONED - Wirt and Greg's parents

Summary: “What happened?” Wirt puts a hand on his shoulder, only for the other to flinch away.

“What do you think?” Greg hisses, taking off his hat, revealing his… new haircut, that doesn’t fit him in the slightest.

Wirt gasps. “Oh, Greg.”

When Wirt comes to pick Greg up from his graduation, things don't go as planned. Prequel to Still the haunted ruins of night call your name.

Word count: 1.163

AO3 / Fanfiction

TRIGGER WARNINGS - abusive parents, non-consensual haircut, and brief mention of suicidal thoughts

DO NOT SHIP WIRT AND GREG. P/ROSHIP DNI.

It’s… taking a while.

Wirt avoids going in there, knowing that things tend to get worse when he’s there. Not because he actually makes things worse, but his parents make him feel this way. He usually stays away from the conflict, but he still makes sure he’s there for his younger brother, even if from a distance.

For the past couple years, Wirt picks Greg up and spends the weekends with him. Sometimes he picked him up from school, too, but now Greg has finally graduated, and as much as Wirt wanted to attend the ceremony, he knew his parents wouldn’t let him, or else he would just “ruin” Greg, according to them.

It’s been twenty minutes, though, the graduation is already over. Wirt sees a lot of Greg’s classmates leaving with their families, and yet he sees no sign of the young DeMayo. Wirt is seriously considering checking up on him for once. He needs to trust his intuition more often instead of letting his parents dictate over his every thought.

He gives a few more minutes.

Nothing.

That’s it. He’s going in.

The moment Wirt leaves the car, he notices a young man hiding himself from the crowd, rushing past people without truly acknowledging their presence. His head is lowered, hair hidden in a hat.

“Greg?” Wirt recognizes. Weird, wasn’t his hair supposed to be long?

His brother says nothing. Instead, he goes straight inside the car, expecting Wirt to do the same. When the latter joins the former, he finds Greg quickly drying his face in shame. The sight is utterly heartbreaking.

“What happened?” Wirt puts a hand on his shoulder, only for the other to flinch away.

“What do you think?” Greg hisses, taking off his hat, revealing his… new haircut, that doesn’t fit him in the slightest.

Wirt gasps. “Oh, Greg.”

A miserable sniff.

“I’m so tired, Wirt. I’m so tired,” Greg sobs. “I wish I could disappear.”

The older DeMayo wants to cry along with him, hearing such painful feelings, seeing his little brother in such a miserable state, and wanting to do anything to make sure nothing hurts him ever again. Wirt knows that’s impossible. He knows he can’t change anything. But at least he can be there for Greg, allowing him to cry and to vent and be himself. Because that’s all Greg needs, to be heard.

“Let’s get outta here already,” he begs.

Wirt hums in agreement. “Do you want to go home?” Meaning his house, not their parents’, obviously.

Greg shakes his head.

“Do you have a place in mind?” Wirt asks.

Sniffing again, his brother nods.

“The place we go to think about stuff.”

Wirt immediately understands.

“Okay.”

–

They haven’t been here in quite a while.

The brothers used to visit it every Autumn, usually in the Halloween season. As Greg grew up, however, said visits gradually stopped occurring.

Now they sit in the graveyard, but not in the garden wall this time. He knows that climbing it is part of the original tradition, but Wirt wants to make sure Greg is safe first and foremost. So, they sit near the car, listening to music – most of it being 70s rock songs, the kind Greg likes. It’s soothing but melancholic, nostalgic.

Greg looks angry, his face still wet. Wirt only observes him with sadness, wondering if there’s anything else he could do, yet knowing he should respect his brother’s space. Music helps Greg, at least, as he’s calmed down significantly. It’s what touches his soul in a way nothing else does.

Maybe Wirt knows what to do now.

He heads to the trunk, much to Greg’s frowning curiosity. Wirt clears his throat nervously.

“I was actually going to give you this on your birthday…” He carries the big bag, unable to contain the smirk at the widening eyes directed at it. “But every musician should have their very own instrument.”

Greg takes the bag as if it’s the most fragile and precious gift in this world. He opens it slowly…

He gasps.

“Wirt…”

It’s a brand new acoustic guitar, the kind of instrument Greg talks about the most. He even got to play one secretly at school, whenever the music room was empty. Wirt never saw him play himself, but just Greg showing him the finger movements was a true indicator of the musician in him wanting to come out.

“You… You really…” Greg laughs wetly, only for it to fade in fear and resentment. “But what if they…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure they don’t get their hands on what’s yours again,” Wirt winks. “So, do you want to play something?”

“What? Come on, I’m just a beginner.”

“That’s not a problem, Greg. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just play with your soul.”

Greg is quiet for a moment, only to snort.

“You really sound like a music teacher,” he jokes.

Wirt smiles in response.

Greg sits on the grass again, testing each string delicately with his secret guitar pick that has a star in it. He plays what he knows and Wirt listens attentively. Greg is humble, shy, knowing how to play something from his heart. Something honest and sad.

Wirt relaxes next to him, gazing at him with admiration.

Greg plays many familiar tunes, mostly getting used to the guitar, when he insists on one particular song, even singing it out loud.

“If I leave here tomorrow,” he sings wistfully, “would you still remember me?”

Wirt doesn’t verbally react, instead letting his brother sing what’s been inside him this whole time.

“For I must be traveling on, now,” Greg continues, “‘Cause there’s too many places I got to see.

But if I stay here with you girl, things just couldn’t be the same

‘Cause I’m as free as a bird now

And this bird you cannot change

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

And the bird you cannot change

And this bird you cannot change

Lord knows I can’t change.”

Greg stops playing here, as his voice breaks.

Wirt applauds quietly, making him laugh.

“Thank you, thank you,” the musician talks like he’s indeed in a concert.

“That was beautiful, Greg.”

The other blushes, flattered. “Eh. It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t nothing. You really get music, and rock music is your kind. It’s what makes you you.”

Greg’s fingers touch the strings again, casually playing tunes but slowly because he shows that he’s listening.

“Don’t let anyone take that away from you, okay?” Wirt tells him, the only advice he’s going to give.

Now, he puts a hand on his brother’s back.

Greg allows it.

“Okay,” he whispers, grinning widely. He puts the guitar away to wrap his arms around his older brother. “Thanks, Wirt.”

Wirt returns the hug, caressing the other’s back gently.

They stick in the graveyard until night arrives, singing and playing together. Wirt even brought his clarinet to make a duet.

Truly, this is their true safe place.

And Wirt will make sure they never lose each other.

#steven universe #over the garden wall #wirt #otgw wirt #greg universe #crossovers #alternate universe #fanfiction #abuse tw #suicide mention tw #long post

1 note · View note

lotusthekat · 3 years

Text

Still the haunted ruins of night call your name - Chapter 2

Fandoms: Steven Universe, Over the Garden Wall

Rating: G

Relationships: Wirt & Greg, Wirt & Steven, Minor Wirt/Sara

Characters: Wirt, Greg Universe, Steven Quartz Universe; MINOR - Marty, Sara, Lars Barriga; more characters to be added

Summary: Years after his little brother left, Wirt finally has the chance to make things right. Problem is, he has no idea if Greg wants him in his life again.

An OTGW x SU crossover AU. Partially compliant with Steven Universe Future.

Word count: 6.785

Quotev / Fanfiction

Previous chapter

Chapter 2: Into the unknown

Wirt might be too nostalgic and materialistic for other people’s taste, but that’s how he keeps close the memories and experiences he cherishes.

He’s going over his stuff in the attic, a place quite full of dust and barely any sunlight.

Surprisingly, he still has that old Santa hat cone-like.

And the teapot.

The little elephant.

Wirt sighs and hugs it close.

…

“I’m going to bed soon,” he whispers when he notices he’s being watched.

“Wirt, you need to find Greg.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Sara approaches and puts her hands on his shoulders, “I know you said bad things to him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to make them right.”

“I keep thinking like I only screw things up, no matter how hard I try.”

��That’s not true, Wirt.”

He shakes his head and stares at the teapot in his lap.

“I’m just… scared,” Wirt admits. “I’m scared of what I’m going to find. Maybe Greg has become a completely different person. Maybe he still hates me for what I said to him – not that I would blame him, honestly. But I don’t know how he’s doing. I don’t know anything about him or- or my nephew. I have a nephew, Sara. Does that mean he has a romantic partner, too-?”

“You’ve got to find all that out.”

“But what if—”

“I know it’s scary, but you’ve got this,” Sara smiles. “You’ve always gone to the unknown and never gave up, right?”

She probably doesn’t mean it the way he hears it, but…

Wirt stops making those what-ifs and should, and he holds the teapot with certainty.

“You’re right. I have to try.”

Maybe he’s making a mistake.

But he can’t go back now.

No, he won’t go back.

He couldn’t bring Sara with him, but Wirt also wanted to do this alone. He didn’t want to involve her in this whole thing.

Wirt actually remembers hearing about Beach City in his distant childhood memories. His aunt and uncle used to own a barn nearby. Maybe he and his family have actually been to the beach, but he was too young to recall. It’s much farther than where he lives now, and he didn’t sleep a wink last night, already planning the travel and getting everything he needed, and everything he could show Greg and his still unnamed nephew.

Beach City is small, as expected from the name and location. Wirt parks the car in a calm street. There’s not a lot of folks here. He’s aware it must be full of visitors on Summer, but he’s come in mid-Autumn, so he’d likely be the only outsider.

Or… that’s what he initially thinks.

He finds some very… unusual people on the way.

People, but not humans? Their skins have entirely different colors. He sees one that is yellow, orange, purple, white and a whole lot of other pigments together, and they don’t even seem to have eyeballs. They’re skating around with rollerblades.

Then he sees a tiny blue person and a huge gray one making… snow cones out of pure ice?

Ooookay.

He’s been in the Unknown (admittedly years ago and once), but it was… different. This is an actual town in his time and country and planet. There are a lot more unique living beings around. And some humans.

Wirt is likely in the main street according to his map, but it’s been changed drastically. He doesn’t usually like using the GPS because he likes feeling the map in his hands. But this one is probably from the 1990s since he found it in the library, so he’s, well. Lost.

He doesn’t know where to go or ask. He remembers the fact Greg owns a car wash, but he’s not seeing it anywhere.

His stomach and exhaustion interrupt his confused train of thought, and that’s how his eyes find food.

“Spacetries?” He mumbles.

It seems… cute.

Space, though.

Are all of these people aliens? He never doubted their existence, to be fair.

In any case, he’s already got inside. It’s small but nice. It has plenty of treats wrapped up in space elements, like stars, the moon, spaceships and comets. It looks like something Sara would love. He’d have to buy one of them for her.

“Hey, can I help you?”

Wirt would have answered, but.

The cashier is pink.

He looks like a teenager? A teenage boy? But pink?

Some weird little town, Marty’s unwanted words come back to his thoughts.

“… yeah, it’s my natural skin color. Well, not really,” the cashier says, shrugging, “but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let’s work with that.”

Wirt blinks after being in a trance, and he gasps.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude…”

“Eh, don’t worry. But I’m assuming you’re not from around here, am I wrong?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. I’m not.”

“Believe me, it only gets weirder,” the teen chuckles. Wirt then reads the name in his uniform – ‘Lars’. “You look like you need coffee.”

“Yes. Yes, definitely. Sure. Thank you.” He’s normally already a mess, so when he’s sleep-deprived, you can guarantee it gets worse.

“Uh-huh. What brings you to Beach City? If that’s alright to ask.”

“That’s okay. I, um…” Wirt clears his throat. “You wouldn’t happen to know, uh, Greg DeMayo, would you?”

Lars frowns. “DeMayo? Oh, you mean Greg Universe? Mr. Universe?”

Wirt’s exhaustion seems to go away immediately. “Yes! That’s him!”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I’m,” Wirt laughs, “I’m actually his brother.”

Lars blinks. “Oh.”

“I-I haven’t seen him in years… not since he left to get here.” Wirt lowers his head. “I have no idea how he’s been doing all this time.”

“Huh… he’s doing great, sir. He got a haircut, though. Poor guy,” Lars sighs. “Well, I don’t know where he is now, but you could find Steven.”

“Steven?”

Before the boy explains it to him, his pink hair starts glowing.

And something- someone comes out of it.

“Laaaars!!”

“Ah, speak of the devil.” Lars doesn’t seem fazed by it.

Wirt might feel like the insomnia is making him see things, but nope. He’s pinched his own wrist five times today. It’s really happening.

“Oh, hello,” a dark curly-haired teenager – apparently younger than Lars? – says, only his head sticking out of Lars’… head. “Sorry, sir, this is my shortcut.”

“You could try not to scare my customers, Steven,” Lars rolls his eyes. “But hey, good timing. He’s looking for your dad.”

Dad? Wait…

“Oh, really? Just a minute,” Steven takes a breath and gets inside the hair. Lars makes a gesture for Wirt to step back.

Suddenly, Steven jumps out of Lars’ head and lands right in front of Wirt, like it’s a common occurrence to him.

“Hi! I’m Steven,” the boy raises a hand for him to take.

Wirt might stare at him like he’s a ghost.

It’s his nephew. Steven. A truly wonderful name. It sounds like Greg’s creativity indeed. But Wirt thought he’d be… smaller. Younger. He’s a teenager almost his height. Wirt is admittedly not very tall, but still…

He almost wants to hug the boy – he does want to, but no. Priorities.

“I’m- I’m Wirt,” the man shakes his hand, finally.

“So, you know my dad? I don’t think I know you, though.”

“You… probably don’t.” Wirt looks away with sadness.

“Are you his friend?”

“No, I’m…” Wirt gulps. Should he drop the bomb? What would Steven think?

Well, curse it.

“I’m your uncle.”

Steven’s eyes are comically big. “Huh?”

“I mean- I’m your dad’s brother! Which means- yeah, I’m your uncle! That never saw you growing up!” Wirt is forty-five yet he sounds far from it.

Hoo boy.

“… Oh my gosh!” Steven gasps like a fanboy, “I have an uncle!”

Wirt relaxes like he was about to be attacked.

“That’s so cool! I mean, I have Uncle Andy, but I never knew Dad had a brother!” Steven says excitedly.

Wirt frowns. “Yeah, but… Andy? I’m pretty sure he’s my cousin. You know him? And he’s living here?

“Sort of – but I’m so glad to meet you!” Steven pulls him into a hug.

“Oof-!”

Oh god, he’s strong.

“Ah, sorry! Sorry.” The kid lets go and pats his shoulder awkwardly. “I got excited.”

Despite his anxiety, Wirt laughs. “Don’t worry, Steven. I’m really happy to know my nephew, too.”

Steven gasps, “Oh, right! My dad has just gotten back from his last tour! He’ll be so surprised!”

Hold on, tour? A music tour?

“He won’t believe it when I tell him I just met my uncle,” Steven giggles.

“Haha yeah,” Wirt swallows. “Let me just get my coffee.”

While knowing that would be rude, the man slams his hands on the balcony.

“Make me three cups of coffee. Espresso.”

Lars snorts. “Sure, Uncle Universe. Would you like a little souvenir?”

“Yes, for my wife. She loves space.”

“I have an aunt, too?!” Steven exclaims.

“Cool,” Lars comments. “Who knows, I might take her to see it.”

Wirt doesn’t question it and drinks the espresso in five minutes.

He feels like he might puke.

Next chapter

#over the garden wall #steven universe #wirt #otgw wirt #greg universe #steven quartz universe #lars barriga #otgw sara #crossovers #alternate universe #fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

roleplay-today · 2 years

Note

20 year old looking for a long term rp partner. I'd be willing to switch plots/fandoms frequently to keep from being bored.

-18+ ONLY.

-I am looking for NSFW and I only play

submissive characters and I'm not super vanilla.

-I'm hoping for someone in Central Time as that's where I'm at.

-I do asterisks roleplay and usually keep it to two or three sentences with the occasional one sentence.

-These aren't limited to wlm or mlm relationships.

-Fandoms I most often RP in and am experienced in-

Stardew Valley-I love to play Harvey and I'd be up for playing him against any canon characters or OCs

Harry Potter-Most usually Remus Lupin but I'm willing to play him in either GT era or Marauders,AUs,lots of canon characters and OCs!

-Fandoms I wanna try rping-

Stranger Things-I'd love to try Hopper or Steve against a COC or a OC

Gravity Falls-not sure. Maybe Ford x your OC?

Good Omens-I'd like to try playing Aziraphale against Crowley of course

Over The Garden Wall-I suppose I'd want to try Wirt against your OC/COC

The Office-Any of the younger male characters (Jim,Andy,Ryan,Dwight,Oscar) against an OC/COC

-Fandoms I don't think there's a fandom for,but,I'll include anyway-

Dinotopia (if I did this one,I'd probably wanna play Cyrus Crabb

Big Mouth/Human Resources (again with the villains,I'd wanna play Lionel)

2 notes · View notes

rpersearch · 2 years

Note

20 year old looking for a long term rp partner. I'd be willing to switch plots/fandoms frequently to keep from being bored.

-18+ ONLY.

-I am looking for NSFW and I only play

submissive characters and I'm not super vanilla.

-I'm hoping for someone in Central Time as that's where I'm at.

-I do asterisks roleplay and usually keep it to two or three sentences with the occasional one sentence.

-These aren't limited to wlm or mlm relationships.

-Fandoms I most often RP in and am experienced in-

Stardew Valley-I love to play Harvey and I'd be up for playing him against any canon characters or OCs

Harry Potter-Most usually Remus Lupin but I'm willing to play him in either GT era or Marauders,AUs,lots of canon characters and OCs!

-Fandoms I wanna try rping-

Stranger Things-I'd love to try Hopper or Steve against a COC or a OC

Gravity Falls-not sure. Maybe Ford x your OC?

Good Omens-I'd like to try playing Aziraphale against Crowley of course

Over The Garden Wall-I suppose I'd want to try Wirt against your OC/COC

The Office-Any of the younger male characters (Jim,Andy,Ryan,Dwight,Oscar) against an OC/COC

-Fandoms I don't think there's a fandom for,but,I'll include anyway-

Dinotopia (if I did this one,I'd probably wanna play Cyrus Crabb

Big Mouth/Human Resources (again with the villains,I'd wanna play Lionel)

#18+ rp #stardew valley rp #harry potter rp #stranger things tp #gravity falls rp #good omens rp #over the garden wall rp #the office rp #dinotopia rp #big mouth rp #human resources rp

2 notes · View notes

goatmilksoda · 3 years

Text

Ok so basically it's March and I already have my costumes picked out for Halloween and I'm so hyped! Kenneth Parcell (30 Rock) and Wirt (Over The Garden Wall)!

Here are my sketches and instructions on how I'm going to make/use in my final costumes.

I mean one I've been planning for 3 years and the other is easy, cute, recognizable, comforting, and continues last year's theme (blonde immortal angel boy)! They share commonalities too (same shirt, pants, socks, and hair length) so it's easy to change. I'll wear one during the day (or assuming covids over a party a few days before) and then change into the other Halloween night. I'm so excited to get started!! Usually I figure this stuff out in June but these two just fit so well by March!! Amazing I'm so excited to start my work! It's funny, I can actually reuse the pants from the last one and I probably even have leftover hair dye.

Ok so here's what I need to do:

-strip my hair gold (then I'll spray in brown when I need to change)

-make lapel pins (probably of a light clay)

-find a thrift store jacket that's navy blue and just a little too big

-look for an ugly patterned tie

-make a cone hat

-make a cape (hopefully I can use the last of my red fleece for the lining)

-find grey suspenders

I'm just so excited to work on this!! It's gonna be great!!

#halloween costume #halloween #i love costumes #costume design #costumes #otgw #Wirt #kenneth parcell #30 rock

1 note · View note

absolutelynochillonlydeath · 4 years

Text

Garden Wraith

2. Hope is A Bird’s Wings

The next few days for Wirt were…difficult. After the first week of his nightmares where he continued to wake up repeatedly in terror, he finally calmed down enough to continue the dream. He found that he always woke up in the same area as the lantern and the consistency of snow around the terrain always changed. That probably should have been his first clue that something was wrong and that all of that wasn’t just a dream, but he dismissed it. Every time he entered, he felt compelled to hold the lantern, the warmth seeming to seep back into him as soon as he made contact with the metal and a sinking feeling of realization curled in the pit of his stomach. He thought he heard whispers from the Edelwood trees he came across and fled from their gnarled, wooden faces of agony. The more he dreamt, the longer he stayed in the dream, the more he found himself wandering the forests of the Unknown, his feet following nonexistent trails until he reached familiar terrain. Or, what looked like familiar terrain. His body was so sure that it was familiar even when his mind was definitely unsure. Night fell and he continued walking, the light of the lantern guiding his path, though when he looked out into the darkness he left behind him without the flame to light the way, he found that light still shone and he could see just fine. The thought frightened him and he continued on, the snow crunching under his feet. He traveled on through the morning, not feeling an inch of fatigue as he did so, another piece of the puzzle his brain wasn’t quite understanding due to the thick layer of denial blocking its completion.

He continued on like this for about a week, completely isolated from any form of civilization, though he could swear his could hear whispers coming from around him. It set him on edge, but every time he turned to look, there was nothing there. He had picked a direction at random, hoping to find somewhere familiar, though some corner that he assumed was the one that wouldn’t get him lost was assuring him that he was headed in the right direction. With no way to be sure at all and still half convinced that this was all just some terrible dream, he persisted on as the days and nights passed, the ever present woods of the Unknown passing by in a blur of the same. Things passed by unchanged as he picked his way through the mist and gnarls of tree roots when things finally changed. Just as he stumbled into a thinner area of trees which seemed to lead to a clearing and almost passed the treeline, his heart caught in his throat at the sight before him. It was the old mill that he and Greg had first come across. It looked better than when they left it, the giant holes and broken wood of the building having been mended. It was definitely a sign that time had passed and from the looks of the smoke billowing from the chimney, the Woodsman was still there. But as he took a step to enter the clearing, his vision blurred before rapidly going to black and he felt a persistent tugging at his chest, leading back into the mist. He blinked rapidly as the dark took over the last thing he saw was the flickering lantern tumbling from his hands.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was back in his bed, his body angled towards the window. Blinking away the morning sunlight streaming through, he felt confusion seep into his brain, the dregs of sleep and the sensation of the cold still clinging to his hay mind, but there was also relief as he finished waking up. He wasn’t in the Unknown. He was home, safely in his room. He had beaten he Beast and escaped the Unknown with Greg. They hadn’t even gone near the cemetery wall since Halloween, so there was no way he’d have gone back. It was all just a very long dream. It was just an extension of the nightmares he had been dealing with before, though a bit tamer than usual. He wasn’t very surprised he still thought of the Unknown, though a little bit disturbed. He had read about traumas sticking with a person for years afterwards and the teen supposed that it was just his mind’s way of dealing with it. And people had had long dreams before, right? So, there was probably nothing to worry about. With his reassurances, Wirt sighed and got up, already hearing the telltale signs of the household awakening and got ready to face the day. Putting on clothes and attempting his best to manage his hair, he looked deeply at himself in the mirror and tried to convince himself of his thoughts.

‘It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I can deal with this. It was just a dream after all. They’re just dreams.’ He thought to himself and left the bathroom, heading downstairs to his family and if he just so happened to hug his brother extra tightly and a little bit longer than usual, it was nobody’s business but his own. Not even his mother and stepfather’s surprised looks or Greg’s knowing one would make him say anything about it. It was only a dream after all. They would fade away soon enough.

But fate was rarely kind, and as night fell and he lay down to sleep after a long day of snowball fights with his friends and Greg, he fell into darkness and his eyes opened again to the snow-covered lands of the Unknown. He was back where he was before he had woken up, the mill before him, though now thoroughly buried in snow whereas before it had only been an inch or two. Winter’s chill bit through him and he shivered slightly. The cold seemed to not only tear through his clothes and into his skin but seemed to wrack tremors through his very being. Looking around, he found that the lantern was once again there, though its flame was now flickering wildly as if it were the rapid beating heart of a frightened bird. He wasn’t sure why he picked it up again, he really should have just left the dumb thing there to rust in the snow after all the trouble and terror it and its owner had caused him, but something in him told him that he should. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward and stretched his hand out.

Once again, as soon as the flesh of his palm made contact with the cold metal, a warmth spread through his chest, erasing whatever chill he felt from the wind entirely. Deep down, he knew t was odd that there was something wrong with that feeling but he didn’t want to think about the implications of what this could mean and tried to reason away his relief. He couldn’t go without light, now could he? Right? Right. He just needed it as a light source. The forest of the Unknown was very dark, so he needed that. Maybe it could also count as a spoil of war? This was the only remnant left of the Beast other than the possible Edelwood trees still around, but he wasn’t going out of his way to look for those, so the lantern would do. Not that he really thought of it as a trophy, defeated monster or not. But it still didn’t explain his hesitance of leaving the light behind, especially since he and Greg had made their way through the Unknown just fine without it. Pushing down the feelings and unsettling thoughts, he trudged forward through the snow with less effort than he thought it would take and knocked on the door rapidly. Walking through the snow, he saw the lights in the house flickering cheerily in contrast with the snow clouded sky and it brought hope to him that there were people inside. Maybe it was the Woodsman? And his daughter if she had gotten released by the Beast after his defeat. Hopefully the man would let him in to stay for a while. This was his dream, so he should let Wirt stay, but the teen hadn’t had such a vivid dream before. This was all new to him and he was half expecting Beatrice to fly to him out of nowhere and start nagging him.

After a few moments of not receiving an answer, he knocked again more tentatively this time, looking at the setting sun behind him warily. He may not have been as bothered by the cold as he thought he should have been, dream or no dream, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend any more time there than necessary out in the snow with the amount of bad memories it caused. Winter at home was one thing, but winter in his dream of the Unknown brought up fear and anxiety. Finally, after another few moments of waiting, there was a sign of life from inside and Wirt heard voices coming from inside, though none of them he could identify. There was what sounded like a bit of a scuffle on the other side of the door along with the barking of a dog and before he knew it, the door swung open and three red haired boys of various ages peered up at him, eyes wide in curiosity.

“Who is it?”

“Who’re you?”

“You’re wearing weird clothes.”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Why’re you here?”

The flood of questions mixed with the barking of the very familiar looking dog set Wirt completely on edge and he was floundering for an answer when the boys and dog were moved aside, a plump woman taking their place and frowning at them.

“Joseph! Donald! Thomas! What did I tell you about harassing people at the door?! And what did I tell you about letting the dog loose inside the house?” she yelled at them in annoyance and moved the grinning boys out of the way. They let out a cacophony of answers before grinning and scampering off into the house again. Her frown melted into a smile as she turned back to look him over.

“And who might you be, dear? I can’t imagine you’ve come from far in this snow, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before?’ she asked and Wirt floundered again, mouth agape.

“Well?” she asked again and Wirt scrambled for words, his face flushed a little in embarrassment.

“Oh, um, sorry, I, uh, I was a-actually looking for the Woodsman? I-I thought he lived here, but I guess I made a mistake.” He stuttered shyly and the woman simply blinked in surprise and confusion.

“The Woodsman? He hasn’t been here in, well, almost three years. He moved away with his daughter some time ago.” He said and Wirt’s eyebrows shot up in shock. What? Three years? That long? Then again, he and Greg thought they spent quite a long time in the Unknown while in all actuality, it had only been a few minutes while they were drowning in the lake.

“Oh, come inside, won’t you, dear? It’s freezing out there and we can’t have you be lost in the dark!” she said and ushered him in. The teen nodded numbly before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He said politely and she smiled, ushering him over to the fire and grabbing a blanket to throw over him.

“It’s no trouble. And just call me Peony. No need to be so formal.” She chided and he nodded, curling into the warm cloth.

“My name is Wirt.” He said softly and she nodded in acknowledgement.

“There we are. Warm up by the fire and I’ll get you something hot to drink as well.” She said cheerfully and bustled off into a different room. Wirt stood with the blanket around his shoulders and lantern still in hand, completely bewildered at what to do. Whatever plans he had for finding the Woodsman and now he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know these people and he didn’t quite know who else to go to. Maybe he would head to Pottsfield when it was daylight out? The giant maypole pumpkin may be able to help him… but then again, why was he worried? If this was really all just a dream, albeit a very realistic one, then there was nothing to look forward to. He was right now at home, in bed, sleeping, so he shouldn’t be worried as to what came next. Still, the thought couldn’t leave his brain and he continued to plan. After a few minutes, the woman came back out again holding a steaming cup.

“It’s just tea, but it definitely warms you.” She said gently, handing over the cup and he took it gratefully.

“Now, my family will be down in a minute for dinner and I won’t lie, there are quite a few of them. Please don’t be intimidated, though. They’re rambunctious, but harmless.” She said reassuringly at the panicked look on the teen’s face. Wirt may have gotten a bit better at socially interacting, but being in a stranger’s house, surrounded by a bunch of family made his heart jolt with anxiety. Trust him to still be socially anxious even in a dream, he thought to himself despairingly. Turning his attention back to the woman, again, he nodded and clutched at the blanket around his shoulders, managing to slide off his cape and take off his hat, though he kept the lantern in hand. The woman smiled in understanding and walked off into what he assumed was the dining room, leaving him to his own devices. Wirt shivered, though not from cold, and stared into the fire, taking the moment of silence to calm himself, his free hand over his chest. He felt the thundering of his heart under his fingertips and it oddly made him calm down. Sadly, just as his heart resumed a more normal rhythm, the thunderous sound of many feet coming down the stairs and loud children’s voices ringing down the halls.

“Joseph! Donald! Thomas! What have I told you about running?!” Wirt heard the woman yell from the kitchen, and was met with a chorus of “Sorry, mom!”, and the steps became quieter. Wirt could hear a few more voices drift in, the woman calling for Daisy and Emma to get their father from outside and then a few more minutes of commotion. The clink of plates and silverware and the voice of an older man was heard before the woman spoke again.

“Now, as some of you may know, we have a visitor, so don’t overwhelm him.” she said warningly, much to the protest of some of the kids, but fell to silence again. After a moment walked into the room again and smiled, gestured for him to follow her. Wirt nodded and placed the blanket on the couch before grabbing his hat and cloak and following the woman to the dining room. The cup was still in his hands. Upon entering, he saw an older looking man with dark brown hair sitting at the dining table with six red-haired children, with the eldest being a girl that looked a little older than him. After that were the three boys Wirt had seen answer the door and two younger girls he could only conclude were Daisy and Emma.

“Everyone, this is Wirt. He’ll be with us at least till the morning. Please behave around him. Wirt, this is my husband Matthew and my children.” she said and Wirt waved nervously at them, trying his best to prevent the blood rising to his face.

“Um, h-hi, everyone…” he said softly, not daring to meet anyone’s eye. There was a sudden loud clanging as a cup went crashing to the ground and all eyes went to the eldest child who was staring with wide eyes.

“Wirt?!” the girl shrieked and Wirt’s eyes finally looked up to meet hers. The voice and deep brown of her eyes seemed familiar, but Wirt couldn’t quite place it.

“Beatrice! Clean that up right now! What has gotten into you?” Peony scolded her daughter, but the girl wasn’t moving, her body frozen and eyes affixed to him. Wirt felt his breath catch in his throat as it finally clicked in his brain. That voice, those eyes, the big family. It was Beatrice. The last he had seen her, he and Greg were leaving and had only stopped to give her the scissors. He had thought about her later, wondering if she had managed to break her spell and save her family, but to see her now, alive and well, almost sent Wirt to the ground with relief.

“B-Beatrice… Beatrice!” he whispered before saying it louder, taking a half step towards her. Having the same idea, but more initiative, the girl bolted around the table and tackled him in a hug. The others in the room could only stare in silence, struck dumb.

“Wirt! I thought you left! Why are you here?! Where’s Greg?!” came the flood of questions from the girl as she held him tightly. Wirt held her back just as tightly, taking comfort at the feeling of her alive and breathing, her breath and heartbeat reminding him of the beat of her bluebird wings.

“I…I’m so glad you’re okay. You and your family. It’s so weird seeing you as a human instead of a bird…” he murmured softly, but Beatrice’s mother still heard and gasped. The entire family went quiet.

“How does he know about that?” she asked and the taller girl pulled away, looking at her mother.

“I know Wirt. He and his brother helped me three years ago when we were bluebirds. He gave me the scissors before he and his brother left.” Beatrice explained and the family burst out into a cacophony of noise.

“That was you?!”

“Wow!”

“That’s amazing!”

“Thank you so much!”

“Where have you been?”

“Can we have a party?”

The voices swelled and Wirt shrank from the noise, anxiety washing over him and threatening to sweep him under as he realized that he didn’t know how to answer any of that without being tongue-tied. The taller girl noticed immediately and signaled her parents who snapped out of their shock and began to quiet the rest of their children.

“Now, now. What did I say about behaving?!” Peony shouted at them and the children immediately quieted, though the enthusiasm still gleamed in their eyes. Beatrice nodded in understanding, placing a comforting hand on Wirt’s shoulder and he took a breath to steady himself.

“Alright, now please take a set. Dinner is all set and I think this is a story we all want to hear.” Peony said warmly and Wirt nodded, taking a seat while Beatrice sat next to him and he began his tale.

As night wore on and Wirt lay on the couch with the fire dwindling beside him, the teen felt more relieved than anything, but the fear still lingered in the back of his mind. The entire time that he was telling his story from beginning to end, it felt…therapeutic to tell someone and they had been a rather receptive audience. There had, of course, been a bit of confusion as to where he came from, though surprisingly not to what his suspicions of what the Unknown truly was. They knew that they had died. They remembered but decided to remain there in the Unknown to be together. But they were definitely surprised to learn that he was, to the best of his knowledge, still alive, but all stiffened at the mention of the Beast and the lantern Wirt now carried. Beatrice looked heartbroken at the mention of his possible fate as the new lanternbearer. At the end of his tale, ending with him winding up there, the adults announced that it was time for bed and the children were ushered up to their rooms, their minds filled with his story and promised to speak more about his situation in the morning. His mind buzzed, the denial banished from his heart and leaving him with the drained understanding that this was no dream. This was reality, or at least an approximated version of reality, and he was back in the Unknown. Groaning softly, he threw an arm over his eyes and took measured breaths to curb the growing ice in his stomach. There was a sudden creak from the house and Wirt looked up to see the familiar red hair and a flash of blue.

“Beatrice?” he whispered and the girl nodded, crossing the space between them and settling on the couch beside him. Wirt sat up and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them, the dying fire crackling as if to emphasize the mild discomfort between them. Finally, Beatrice broke the quiet.

“Are you…are you doing okay?” she asked quietly, concerned eyes turned his way. Wirt flinched at the question, his mind flashing through a symphony of worries and fears and doubts, all a swirling mass with the lantern and the Beast serving as the eye of the hurricane. Beatrice gasped a little as the normal grey irises of the boy’s eyes flickered to familiar iridescent shades as they narrowed and he curled in on himself.

“I… No. I don’t think I am…” he whispered softly, wrapping his arms around himself and staring resolutely into the fire. “I-I thought that when we left, we wouldn’t have to come back here. At least not till we were old. B-b-but now I am and I don’t know what’s happening to me. It isn’t happening to Greg, which is good, but why me? Was it because I blew out the lantern? Is that why its, just, kinda sticking with me? Is that why it’s there every time I wake up?” he whispered frantically, his words coming out faster, spilling from his lips even as he felt oxygen failing to return to his lungs. Beatrice would only watch in muted horror as the shadows cast by the fire grew, spreading into the silhouette of a being with glowing eyes and branching horns. His eyes settled from their flickering to the bright glow of red, yellow, and blue and he was trembling.

“I don’t know what to do.” He whispered quietly as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud and that’s what broke Beatrice from her fear. Behind his changes into what was inevitable, was the boy that she had watched grow and had helped guide through the Unknown. He hadn’t changed no matter what he was turning into now. Narrowing her eyes in determination, she gently placed her hands on either side of his face, turning him to face her and staring into his glowing eyes.

“Wirt, listen to me. Are you listening?” She asked sternly and her tone of voice seemed to pull him out of his spiral. Eyes focused solely on her and she resisted the chill down her spine.

“Good. Now, listen to me. Whatever is happening isn’t your fault. If you keep ending up here, that also means you’ll go back when you wake up so don’t worry about that. As for the lantern and why this is happening, I can’t explain that, but we have time to figure it out. You’ll have me and my family and whatever other dorks you guys met before to help too, so you’re not alone.” She said firmly, though a gentle fondness still in her voice as she worked to break through to him. To her relief, it seemed to be working. The boy was slowly becoming less rigid under her fingers, the shadows were returning to normal, and the glow of his eyes were dimming back to his original grey.

“But what if something else happens? I…I-I’m hearing voices… sometimes… i-in the woods, wh-when I, um, f-first came back, I heard a voice in my mind. It said that there must always be a Beast in the Unknown. What…what if it’s me? I-I-I don’t think I could handle that…” he whispered in a rush and Beatrice could hear his breaths get faster. A fierce determination took hold of her heart and she let go of his face to pull the younger teen into a quick hug, holding on tightly.

“Cheese and crackers, Wirt. You’re still as much of a worry wart as you were before you left.” She muttered, though not unkindly. She sighed and rubbed his back comfortingly.

“That won’t happen. I know it won’t because no matter what, you’ll still be the same clarinet playing, poetry loving, dorky, stubborn jerk of a pushover and wonderful mistake of nature you always have been. Nothing will change that. Not even if you have the Beast's powers. You’re still you and I’ll help you through that.” she whispered quietly into the air, glaring at the writhing shadow behind him as it looked at her with glowing eyes. In her arms, Wirt shuddered and held her back just as tightly, the bluebird beat of her heart calming him down and he felt himself relax, his eyes drooping with the exhaustion of letting out all his worry. Beatrice was right. He wouldn’t let the Beast win. Not then and not now, no matter what was happening to him. He would get through this and return home like last time. No matter how many times he woke up in the Unknown, he would always find his way back.

“I’m not a pushover.” Wirt spoke finally, aiming to break the tension. He heard Beatrice snort and he smiled a little to himself, glad that she understood.

“Yeah you are. I mean you’re still taking orders from me, aren’t you?” she joked, pulling away from their embrace and a smirk now on her face. Yes. That snark and sarcasm definitely suited her better than worry. Beatrice wasn’t one who would usually worry.

“That’s different.” Wirt pouted in response, trying not to smile. Beatrice laughed softly and smacked his arm.

“Brat.” She huffed. There was a moment of silence before they broke into quiet giggles, the tension in the room erased. Wirt smothered his giggles and wiped his eyes, the tears threatening to spill over earlier turning into tears of laughter. Looking at Beatrice, he smiled warmly. He was so glad to have a friend like her. He was ecstatic that the scissors had worked and that he had played a part in bringing her and her family together again. They seemed nice when they first met as bluebirds, though they seemed to not remember him now. But that was fine. He could build new bonds with them and hopefully they would help him as well.

“So you feeling better now?” Beatrice asked and Wirt nodded, shifting away from his inner thoughts.

“Yeah. Thanks, Beatrice. I really needed that.” he said quietly.

“Anytime.” She nodded, voice uncharacteristically soft. Wirt smiled and waved his hand imperiously, shooing her off the couch.

“Now off to bed with you, young lady! What would your parents think?” he said, voice still quiet so as not to rouse the house. Beatrice rolled her eyes, scoffing but complied and got up.

“Is that any way to talk to the person who just talk you out of your depressive spiral?” she snorted playfully and Wirt chuckled again. The girl turned to leave, whispering a good night as she did and disappeared back into the darkness of the house.

“Good night, Beatrice.” He murmured quietly before lying down again, staring up to the ceiling. His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed in relief, glad that the girl had come down to talk with him. Admittedly, this was something very legitimate to freak out about, but now he knew that he shouldn’t be as worried, because he had friends here. Friends who, for all their oddness, he knew would help him. Well, maybe not the archetype people at the tavern, but everyone else would. Beatrice and her family would. He wasn’t alone in this. Even as this bled into the land of the living, he knew that Greg would be there to support him. That brave, silly seven-year-old would suck up his own fear of the Beast and do his best to cheer on and comfort the brother he loved. And Wirt, for his part, would try and make this transition into a new normal as painless as possible. He wasn’t promising not to freak out, because that was who he was, but he would at least attempt to curb his panic before it became a burden on those who were just trying to help him. Taking a deep breath, he let his mind wander back to home and thought of nothing but the snow. From beside him, just out of arms reach, the lantern flickered serenely, taking in the dying light of the fireplace.

I will be posting the most on AO3

#over the garden wall #gravity falls #beast!wirt #anxiety

4 notes · View notes

goingoverthegardenwall · 5 years

Text

Chapter 3: Schooltown Follies

Since there have been stories, there have been stories that anthropomorphize animals. Folks have imagined creatures behaving as humans in every corner of the world, in myths and fables and fairy tales from ancient cultures to today. So by the turn of the 20th century, when a mycologist known for painting incredibly detailed images of fungus decided to instead write and illustrate stories about animals in contemporary clothes, it wasn’t exactly a new idea. But perhaps that makes it more impressive: despite the multitude of animal books for children that have been published in the last hundred and fifty years, the work of Beatrix Potter still stands out.

She’s not alone, of course: no good conversation about humanized animals in Western kid lit can last long without mentioning Richard Scarry or Margaret Wise Brown or Arnold Lobel. And Peter Rabbit’s extended family is quite British, which puts it at odds with the nostalgic Americana of Over the Garden Wall: it’s not for nothing that our assortment of animals in Schooltown Follies includes a raccoon and an opossum. But the timeless quality of Potter’s work is still felt in this episode in two ways. First, while the show has a cartoony lens, the school animals are far more anatomically accurate than Beatrice or the frogs of Lullaby in Frogland, evoking Potter’s signature field guide style. And second, there’s a mischief to Potter’s animals that makes them feel more like real children than the cute but bland residents of Scarry’s Busytown, and mischief is the name of the game when Greg comes to schooltown.

Schooltown Follies is full of clever tricks, but perhaps its most clever is introducing animals with human qualities (they wear clothes, play instruments, and walk on their hind legs) but not giving them voices. It’s generally great comedy fuel, showing the inherent ridiculousness of a school for sorta normal animals, but it more importantly allows the episode a silent movie feel, with plenty of physical humor enhanced by characters without dialogue. That style completes the episode’s subversion of Beatrix Potter’s oeuvre: she wrote stories about naughty animals learning that they should behave, but in this vaudeville version, the only way to save the day is by misbehaving.

“Then I’ll do what I need to do, I guess.”

Despite being one of our three main characters, Greg trades a full character arc for a comic relief role. At the beginning of Over the Garden Wall he’s a chatty kid who never gives up and loves fun, and at the end he’s a chatty kid who never gives up and loves fun. This doesn’t mean he’s fully static, as he matures enough to accept some responsibility to others instead of seeking entertainment for himself: he abandons a potential happy ending to try to save Wirt with the Beast, and returns his stolen Rock Facts Rock in the last shot of the series. But even this obligation to help out is present early on: Schooltown Follies is the first of his two focus episodes, and the foundation of his eventual heroism is established right here.

And frankly? I think it’s okay if he’s not that dynamic. Greg doesn’t change as much as Wirt or Beatrice because he doesn’t have nearly as much to overcome, and he still contributes to the show without forcing the crew to juggle three distinct arcs. Our older kids are on a shorter timer to grow up, and have clearer negative traits (Wirt’s got no confidence, Beatrice is a jerk), and while we can accuse Greg of lacking social cues, he’s so young that it’s not indicative of a larger problem. He’s just acting his age, albeit in a heightened way for entertainment, and to lose that innocence this early in his life would make this show a serious downer.

“Heightened” is the general mood of Schooltown Follies, where Greg’s less realistic behavior fits much better than The Old Grist Mill’s bottom-of-the-barrel aside. This is an episode where Two Old Cat, an old-timey bat-and-ball game that evokes a similar old-school era as our old school, involves searching for actual old cats, somehow finding them immediately, then realizing one is too old to play and must instead be taken care of by a raccoon in a newsboy cap and overalls.

While there’s plenty of humor to go around in Over the Garden Wall, this is the only fully silly episode. Our other lighthearted outings come with dark twists: Songs of the Dark Lantern introduces the Beast, Lullaby in Frogland reveals Adelaide, and Babes in the Wood turns out to be the most somber episode of the series with context. Here we almost get a parody of such a twist, with characters repeatedly mentioning a wild gorilla on the loose apropos of nothing, then revealing that the gorilla is Miss Langtree’s paramour trapped in a suit. It’s a ridiculous setup to a ridiculous punchline, aided by casting Thomas Lennon for a few lines of dialogue (his read for “I. Was. The gorilla” was worth every penny), so there’s never any sense of danger. Jimmy Brown and Enoch are equally harmless in the end, but I doubt any little kids watching are gonna get nightmares about the ape suit.

This mood is enhanced with song, but among the many musical moments in the series—Mad Love is the only episode without singing in some form—Schooltown Follies stands out by not letting any of the numbers finish. We begin and end the episode in song, but Greg doesn’t have the last lines for Adelaide Parade figured out, Langtree’s Lament faces numerous interruptions before being cut short by the bell (they actually did a full version though!), and Potatoes and Molasses gets stopped first by Mr. Langtree, then by the end credits. Even Miss Langtree’s piano rendition of last episode’s Patient is the Night halts when Greg mashes the keys. It’s the perfect atmosphere for an episode about a kid who loves fun, but is easily distracted and hasn’t developed good planning skills.

Which isn’t to say that Greg is dumb, but that he’s prone to winging it in a way that sets him apart from Wirt. While Wirt rambles his thoughts aloud, Greg takes action without telling anyone why, making his decisions appear random in a medium that often explains motives concretely to young viewers. Wandering in his own direction has become a running gag by now, and while he sets off to make the world a better place, he instead plays outside with animal truants. He’s jolted back to his quest by the bland food and dull atmosphere of lunch hour, and his irrepressible energy lightens everybody’s day without much effort. When Mr. Langtree steps in as an antagonist, Greg decides once again to do something about it, this time saying explicitly that he has no plan, but everything works out again. We get an excellent joke from his decision to rob Langtree right after he becomes sympathetic, but as usual, Greg has bigger ideas behind the humor that he just hasn’t articulated.

While Greg is busy delightfully saving the day, Wirt and Beatrice ease into a sniping side story that establishes their relationship for the next few episodes. They got off on the wrong foot in The Old Grist Mill and twisted that ankle in Hard Times at the Huskin’ Bee, so by now Beatrice doesn’t even try to hide her disdain and Wirt gets fed up with it. This is the perfect type of subplot, one that develops our characters and fits into the theme of the episode—Wirt’s rebellious obedience bounces off Greg’s rebellious call to disobey—but doesn’t distract from the main story.

Beatrice is helpful in opening up Wirt’s snotty side in a way that allows us to cheer for him. Until now his biggest conversation partner has been Greg, and it’s tough to side with Wirt when he’s mean to Greg, but Beatrice is an equal in terms of sparring, and her rudeness is a more understandable motive for Wirt to be obstinate than Greg’s playfulness. Our last episode had him aimlessly suggest staying in Pottsfield, and he’s similarly bound to this new location, but his different attitude changes the entire story. After two episodes of dithering, it’s nice that they let Elijah Wood play a character who’s funny on purpose for a spell, reveling in annoying Beatrice.

And even though he doesn’t know what to do, we actually get our first heroic moment from Wirt here. Greg saved the day in Grist Mill, and the situation resolves without much issue in Hard Times, but Jimmy is saved from the gorilla costume because of Wirt. True, he only interferes after being commanded to by Mr. Langtree, and he clearly has no idea what to do, and he trips over his shoelaces rather than contribute in an intentional way, but it sets the stage for his rescue of Beatrice in our next episode. Deep down, when he’s not overthinking it, the kid is capable of bravery when it’s asked of him. And it’s wonderful that for all his differences from Greg, both share an impulsive approach to heroism when they decide to help others. It’s almost like they’re related.

Beyond getting a few good digs in at Wirt, Beatrice extends her meanness to Miss Langtree, which makes her pestering of the boys feel less personal: it’s not that she hates them, she’s irritable with everyone. But we also get the first hint of her warming to our heroes, letting Greg have his fun at the concert and telling Wirt to finally tie his shoes with just a tiny speckle of fondness. While she gets a bigger friendship moment in Mad Love, when she’s essentially forced to get to know Wirt better, it’s neat to see Beatrice gradually come around instead of flipping a switch after a major story event.

We’re about to get our next big Plot Episode, introducing the Beast and adding new doubts about the Woodsman, so a silly episode is just what we need. It’s our third in a row where something sinister turns out to be okay: obviously the gorilla is an example of this, but Mr. Langtree is similarly an intimidating presence who ends up being a regular man. Even the creepy squirrels from the opening shots of the Unknown’s dangers in The Old Grist Mill return as comic relief. We’re fully primed to look for goodness where we see wickedness. Just in time for us to learn to fear merry opera echoing from the woods.

Rock Factsheet

Greg’s spiel on hot dogs might not summon the Rock Fact Rock, but it certainly evokes the stone’s spirit.

Where have we come, and where shall we end?

Adelaide Parade and Potatoes and Molasses will both get dark reprises, and the former also gets the rare jolly reprise as well. But we unfortunately don’t get a harrowing future scene featuring Langtree’s Lament.

Two Old Cat is part of a list of bat-and-ball games mentioned by a rambling background teen in The Unknown.

#schooltown follies #over the garden wall #otgw #steven universally #beatrix potter

52 notes · View notes

ladylynse · 6 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room. Future fic/college AU. Crossover with Over the Garden Wall, Danny Phantom, Gravity Falls, and Trollhunters.

Part II! (Part I; also on FF/AO3)

Wirt spent almost every free moment he had in the library.

In hindsight, it was rather inevitable that he’d run into Wendy’s roommate.

She found him first, sliding into a seat across from him and quietly clearing her throat. When he looked up, she pointed at the text he was reading. “That one’s hardly a reliable source,” she said.

He forced a laugh. “It’s paranormal science. Nothing’s going to be a reliable source.”

Her features lost their hint of a smile, falling into a tight frown. “That one’s pseudoscience, not science. If you’ve seen something—”

“I never said I saw anything!”

She raised her eyebrows, purposefully darting her eyes around. He didn’t need to turn his head to know people were staring. This was the fifth floor. It had the most uncomfortable chairs. People didn’t tend to stick around and chat here; the lower floors were more popular for group projects that slid into conversational procrastination. Usually, ringing (or buzzing or dinging) phones or sneezes were the only things heard above murmured conversation, the hum of laptops, and rustling paper.

He sunk into his seat and lowered his voice. “Look, this is just for an assignment. It’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“You can talk to me, you know. I won’t think you’re crazy.”

Didn’t mean he didn’t think she was crazy.

“Hey.” She waited until he met her eyes before continuing, “I’ve seen things that most people wouldn’t believe are real. And, no, it wasn’t just a one-off thing or something I ate. So if you need someone to talk to who won’t judge you, I’m all ears.”

“Thanks, but there’s nothing to talk about.” Wirt gathered up his books, ignored the hurt look on Jazz’s face, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was running away.

XXXXXXXX

When Toby tossed a new pair of socks onto his bed when Wirt was trying to finish his paper on Machiavelli, Wirt just looked over at Toby. He didn’t even need to move the socks from the book they’d landed on; Toby knew the question for what it was. “I think I lost a pair last time I did the laundry,” he said. “Figured I should repay you.”

They weren’t pink and fuzzy, so it wasn’t payback for something he couldn’t remember doing. It was true that Wirt hadn’t been able to find a few of his socks, but he’d assumed they’d just gotten shoved under something and would turn up eventually.

Sure, they hadn’t magically reappeared after yesterday when it had been his turn to do their laundry (they’d started taking turns because neither of them particularly liked scrounging for quarters or hauling everything to the machines), but he’d just kinda thought that he’d…missed them. He was missing a few singles, not a pair, so it had seemed more likely.

“Nana wouldn’t let me live it down otherwise,” Toby added.

“Uh, right.” Wirt could believe that. Toby’s Nana seemed big on doing the right thing, even if he wasn’t wholly convinced she always knew what the right thing was. At least, he was thankful for the cookies she’d sent them. The clean underwear ‘in case they got hit by a bus or into worse trouble’ had been a little more…questionable. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Wendy says to stop avoiding her and ignoring her texts. She needs to talk to you.”

“I’m not avoiding her!”

Toby snorted. “I might’ve believed that if you’d come back with ‘about what?’, but whatever. She mentioned something about her roommate. Maybe that’s why.”

“Her roommate is nuts,” Wirt muttered, not caring about being charitable right now. It was…rough. Every assignment in class seemed to be due at all once, and he had trouble focusing on any of them with this…this…whatever it was hanging over his head.

He had seen something.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t something related to the Unknown, but that was only because he hadn’t recognized it. And because he was also pretty sure it was something Toby was involved in, and Toby….

Toby was weird, and the Unknown had been weird, but this felt…different.

Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions, though. There had to be a perfectly rational explanation for what he’d seen. Maybe it had been a dream, and the paper had just been Toby’s study notes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep reading them. Or maybe it did have something to do with the Unknown after all. Somehow. He’d had nothing to do with it for years. Maybe he’d managed to forget what it felt like. He still had the journal with him where he’d written the entire experience down and had actually reread it in preparation for that creative writing assignment, but he’d never found the right words to recreate the feeling the Unknown had given him. Not really.

But…but if it did have something to do with the Unknown, why nothing until now?

Maybe Toby wasn’t even the target. Maybe things were just…reaching out. For him.

Or maybe Toby had ended up in the Unknown once, too, and managed to escape?

No, he couldn’t have. He would have said something. Probably. Because he had to know it was far too unlikely that Wirt could just pull all that out of his hat if he’d been through a very similar experience.

But if it wasn’t the Unknown, what else was there?

…Maybe he really had seen an animal? Just a trained one? There could have been someone outside the window to remove the screen and send in…whatever it had been. A racoon with weird colouration? Or something else that could climb like that? And be trained to carry messages?

Maybe it was a robot. Just…a quiet robot. With random sounds programmed into it so no one got close enough to figure out what it was when it was sent out.

Or maybe Toby had another friend who was so good at that kind of thing that they were working on artificial intelligence and this entire thing was just a series of test runs.

Given the friends of Toby’s that Wirt had met, he was not about to rule out that possibility. Heck, for all he knew, it could be Jazz. She apparently had weapons stashed all over the place. Maybe she had advanced tech, too. That Wendy had found, since Jazz apparently couldn’t hide stuff from her. Wendy could have commandeered something and was using it to send messages to Toby in the middle of the night. Just because she could. He wouldn’t put that past her, either.

Toby snorted. “I don’t think Wendy would argue with you there. She still can’t believe Jazz practically lives in the library. But seriously. Talk to her. Or just go over there. She got out of class at four. She should be back by now. You don’t even have to text or call first.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to finish this.” Wirt made a vague gesture towards the laptop and the mess of books that had overtaken his bed.

“You’ve been working on it since before I got back from my lab. Take a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break!”

“You’ll be more productive if you take one. Isn’t that what they say?”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “A five minute break and a fifteen minute walk to Wendy’s are very different things. Especially when you factor in a conversation and the walk back.”

“You still need a break. And the walk will do you good.”

Wirt argued.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised he lost.

XXXXXXX

“About time,” Wendy said, stepping back to let him in. She and Jazz were renting a tiny, two-bedroom apartment just off campus. It was cheap and showed its age, all chipped paint, worn carpet, creaking floors, and a musty smell that wasn’t quite overwhelmed by the fumes from the fast-food joint next door. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if they wanted to be close enough to walk to campus, they’d have had limited options. Given the convenience, Wirt didn’t want to know how much the two of them had to cough up for rent each month.

“Um….”

“It wouldn’t kill you to reply to your text messages, you know.”

“I was…busy.”

“And avoiding me.”

“And me,” Jazz piped up as she walked out to join them in the tiny entryway. “What do you want to drink, Wirt?”

“Uh….”

“I’ll get you some water.” She disappeared back the way she’d come, presumably to the kitchen. Wirt slid off his shoes and shrugged off his coat, which Wendy hung in the closet.

Two steps took him to the entryway of the kitchen, and if he didn’t turn, he’d head straight for the living room. He hesitated until Wendy pushed him gently from behind, prodding him forward. “Comfy chairs,” she said.

The chairs would feel more comfortable if he wasn’t walking into an interrogation. Jazz fished out a coaster from beneath a psychology text book and set a glass of water down on it beside him, and she sat in the chair on the other side of the end table. Wendy snagged a rolling chair from a desk, wheeling it over to join them. Neither of the girls spoke.

“Um. I wasn’t, uh, avoiding you guys.”

Jazz’s eyebrows shot up. “Weren’t you? Really, Wirt, you can tell me. I grew up in Amity Park. I have seen unbelievable.”

That might be so, but he’d never heard of Amity Park.

Wendy stretched, cracking her knuckles. “Gravity Falls isn’t without its stories, either.”

He stared at them. “Wait. This isn’t still about that story I wrote about the Unknown, is it?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Jazz asked, turning the question back on him. “I rather thought it was about whatever you were researching in the library. Clearly, though, if the Unknown is involved—”

Why had he ever opened his mouth? He knew what her major was. “It’s not.” That was unconvincing even to his own ears.

“But you brought it up.”

“She mentioned stories!” He pointed at Wendy, desperate for an out. She was just smirking and enjoying the show.

“But you immediately thought of the Unknown.”

Wirt was pretty sure Jazz had handed him the shovel and he was halfway into digging his own grave. “Because someone would never let that drop. A couple someones, actually.”

“So Wendy and Toby have mentioned it recently?”

“Well, yeah.” Wirt stopped.

Thought about it for a moment.

They hadn’t.

Not for a couple of weeks, at the very least. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard them harp on about it since he’d seen the whatever-it-was. He hadn’t been spending a lot of time with either of them, too focused on figuring out what the heck he’d seen and not failing his classes in the meantime.

And from the look on Jazz’s face, she knew that perfectly well.

“Okay, so maybe not,” amended Wirt, even though he knew he was well past six feet under, “but it’s definitely been too often for something that should have been forgotten. Seriously. It was just a creative writing assignment. No one’s made a big deal about any of the others.”

“Maybe the others had a different sort of truth to them than this one did.”

Wirt frowned. “Wait, you haven’t read it, have you?” She shouldn’t have. He’d never shown her. But he didn’t trust Wendy.

“I know enough about it,” Jazz said, which wasn’t really an answer because she could know enough about it if Wendy had told her or if Wendy—or, heck, maybe even Toby—had broken into his laptop and emailed her the file or copied it to a flash drive or something.

“It’s. Just. A. Story.” He was tired of repeating himself.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jazz said, leaning back in her chair. Wirt blinked. “How about I tell you a story, though?”

“Wait, what?”

“Can I tell you a story?”

He didn’t have time for this. That essay wasn’t going to finish itself. But…. “Like, a story story or—?”

Jazz smiled. “A ghost story.”

He couldn’t tell if she was kidding. A quick glance at Wendy confirmed she hadn’t expected this, either. Still, she looked…interested, leaning forward and finally focusing on Jazz instead of him.

“Amity Park has its share of ghost stories,” Jazz added when he didn’t stop her.

He still couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Was she just making stuff up to try to get him to talk? He hadn’t framed the Unknown as a ghost story for his assignment, but in hindsight it could’ve been read like that. And she had caught him looking up different types of ghosts….

“They say the veil is thin there,” Jazz said, a quirk about her lips hinting at some inside joke. Wendy didn’t seem to get it, either. Frankly, Wirt was surprised she didn’t know the whole story already. He’d kinda figured she’d have gotten it out of Jazz by now—especially if she’d found Jazz’s hidden weapons in less than a week.

…Was this why Jazz had weapons in the first place?

“Natural portals are abundant. Not between this world and the next, but between our world and the Ghost Zone, the realm where ghosts dwell—the ones not trapped on our plane of existence, anyway. One day, a pair of well-meaning scientists decided to set up shop and tear through the veil to create a doorway so that they could better study the world of ghosts. It wasn’t until after they’d succeeded that they realized the dangers of the other side.”

A ghost zone? Why not just call it the afterlife? Wirt opened his mouth, but Jazz held up a hand to silence him. “The people of the town adapted and even grew to accept the daily disruptions of ghost attacks.”

Daily? She was definitely making this up. He just had no idea why.

“But then one day, the Fright Knight arrived, heralding the return of his king and issuing a royal decree. Some of the people tried to fight back, and the entire town was punished for their efforts, completely subsumed by the Ghost Zone. The scientists were able to erect a protective barrier with the help of others, but they could not reverse the town’s transportation. They had been taken to another realm, and the town could not be restored by ordinary human means. Not alone.”

“Wait. You’re telling me an entire town got sucked into a different world?” Even for a story, it was a stretch. She had to know how that sounded. One or two people, even a larger group, sure. Fine. But an entire town? “I thought you were a psych major, not creative writing.” Although maybe this was why she wasn’t in creative writing. She had the basics down, but she went a little too far, even for the whole suspension of belief thing. The best ghost stories were the ones that could feasibly happen, that couldn’t quite be explained away by logic or circumstance.

Now, what had happened to him and Greg? Okay, so maybe it didn’t sound feasible to someone who thought it was just a story, but it had only been them, not everyone else who’d been in the graveyard. And the struggle of two people surviving a place like the Unknown made for a better story than an entire group who brought various eclectic skills to the table. Stories were better when there was a sense of risk, not a certainty of eventual triumph.

Sure, the fact the town couldn’t be restored ‘by ordinary human means alone’ or whatever was probably meant to build suspense, but she wasn’t—

“Trust me, she’s a psych major,” Wendy said. “Now stop interrupting. Was there some kind of prophecy? There must have been if you couldn’t just fight your way out, right?”

Why…why was Wendy talking like this was something that had really happened to Jazz? Like it was a normal thing? Like she’d gone through something similar where there had been a prophecy, and it had been important, since without it, she—and whoever else—couldn’t fight her way out? Jazz had straight up said it was a ghost story.

Her names could use work—Ghost Zone? Fright Knight?—but then again, they might not be her names. If she wasn’t making this up, if she had heard the story as a kid or at summer camp or something, then it would be easier to keep the names the same rather than change them and forget what she’d called things mid-story.

He wasn’t convinced she wasn’t trying to make some point with this, though. When Wendy had read his story, she’d wondered if he’d been talking about death. About the afterlife. He couldn’t blame her, given that he’d still called it the Unknown, but—

“To start everything,” Jazz allowed. “Prophesized power begins this story, really. Greed for it awakened the king from his slumber in the first place.”

Okay, so probably not making it up on the spot unless she was really good at that kind of thing. He didn’t know her well enough to tell. He couldn’t think on his feet half as well as Greg, but it was a good skill to have, and if she was planning on being a psychologist, it would make sense that she could adapt to whatever was thrown at her better than other people.

“But the prophecy didn’t end it? Didn’t hint at a way to defeat the king?”

“Only what must be done was known, not how it would be accomplished.”

“Well, teamwork, obviously,” Wirt said. That’s how these things went. Especially when there was a townful of people to help.

“More calling truces, uniting foes against a common enemy, and fighting for survival and a way of life as much as for friends and family, but yes. Teamwork. Pariah Dark could never have been defeated by any one person alone, nor even by a small group.”

Maybe this was some old camp story and she’d just changed it to a town from a bunch of campers to make that fact less obvious. It had a moral to it and everything. Work together, help each other out. Maybe even unite against an opposing cabin despite initial opposition within. Jazz might’ve spent a summer as a counsellor somewhere. It would’ve given her an opportunity to work with kids from various backgrounds, which would stand up as good experience when she got to job hunting.

And it would explain why she seemed to know this story so well.

“But sometimes it’s a small group or one person who makes all the difference in the world,” Wendy said softly. “When it comes down to the wire and greater risks need to be taken. Sometimes, only one person can choose to make that sacrifice, even when others want to help.”

Jazz raised her eyebrows, and Wendy’s defensive barrier immediately fell back into place as she sat up. “What? Wirt’s the only one allowed to predict how this went down?”

Seriously, why was she saying that like it had happened?

“Of course not,” Jazz said. “I just…hadn’t realized.”

Hadn’t realized what?

“Anyway, keep going.”

No. Wait. Hadn’t realized what? What was he missing?

“It’s like you said. They came together, friend and foe alike, and helped turn the tide. There was even one who sacrificed more than the rest, and, really, it is that smaller group you mentioned that ensured he didn’t lose everything in the process.” Jazz shrugged. “But it’s just a story.”

“But….” No. She wanted him to ask. She must. That’s why she’d cut things off so abruptly. If he asked, he’d be playing right into whatever trap she’d set. Because there had to be something. He’d walked into enough of them already to know that.

Maybe Wendy didn’t believe this as much as she seemed to and was just playing off Jazz. To get to him. And get him to…something. He wasn’t even sure. What did they want, for him to admit that the Unknown wasn’t just a story? Why? So they could laugh at him for believing such a thing? That didn’t make sense. They weren’t cruel.

So what were they really after?

Wirt suddenly realized Jazz and Wendy were staring at him, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed. “Um, I mean, stories, ah, sometimes have a bit of truth in them, and….” And something. He didn’t know where he’d been going with that. Nowhere, probably.

Jazz smiled. “Exactly.”

Wait.

“What’s the truth in your story, Wirt?”

He’d walked right into that, hadn’t he?

Maybe he could still pull this off and convince them to drop it for good. “That I had fun imagining it?” he offered. He needed them to believe him when he said it was just a story.

“Ideas come from somewhere,” Wendy pointed out.

Of course she wouldn’t drop it. That would be too easy. “Yeah, a dream, but who knows before that. I just remembered some of what I’d been dreaming about and made up what I didn’t.”

For a split second, identical expressions of fear passed over the girls’ faces.

And then they both managed to school their expressions into a more normal response, mainly boredom (Wendy) and allowance (Jazz).

He had no idea what they’d been thinking.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.

He had a feeling he’d find out eventually, though. One way or another. He just wished he knew now whether or not they were in this together. They probably were—Jazz was still more acquaintance than friend in his book, since he didn’t know her that well, despite whatever this was—but if they were, why hadn’t Jazz filled Wendy in on her plan? And if they weren’t, why would Jazz bother with any of this in the first place?

This didn’t make sense.

Wirt drained half his water, just so he didn’t have to fill the silence, but that only gave Jazz the opportunity to ask, “Do you dream like that often?”

“What?” It was a weird question. “You mean like where I remember it, right? Aren’t we supposed to dream every night even if we don’t remember them?”

Jazz just smiled.

“Well…no? I don’t usually remember my dreams. I guess I just woke up at the right time with this one.”

They looked relieved.

Why did they both look relieved?

“Do you ever have lucid dreams?” pressed Jazz. “Where you’re aware that you’re dreaming and can take control of it?”

He had no idea where this line of questioning was supposed to be going. “No. I mean, maybe once, just kinda steering away from a nightmare if that counts, but I don’t know for sure. Nothing that I really remember.”

“How often do you have nightmares?”

That one came from Wendy, and it was seemed to add credence to the idea that they were working together after all. “Not really often? I don’t remember the last one I had.” Because he was certain that he’d really seen something, that it hadn’t just been a nightmare. It couldn’t have been. Not when the note had been there the next morning. “C’mon, guys, what’s this about? You have to know how weird all this sounds.”

“This is your standard for weird, then,” Jazz said, as if that clarified something.

“Well, yeah? It would be anyone’s standard, wouldn’t it?”

Wendy glanced at Jazz. “Kinda makes him seem sweet and innocent for thinking that, doesn’t it?”

Okay, that confirmed it. They were in this together. And trolling him. They had to be.

Wirt got to his feet. “Look, this has been…fun, I guess, but I really need to finish my essay. Are you satisfied that I’m not avoiding you now?”

“Answer your text messages like the normal person you claim to be,” Wendy shot back, “and then I’ll believe that.”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Fine, but don’t expect instant responses. Like I said, I’m busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Jazz was smiling again as she rose to join him, but he couldn’t see falsehood hidden behind it. Maybe she was just a genuinely cheerful person. Or, more likely, she was deeply amused by his reaction to all of this. “Thanks, Wirt. You’ve been a great help.”

A great help for what?

“A good sport,” Wendy agreed. She didn’t move from her chair. “Don’t be a stranger, Wirt. You and Toby can come over for supper on the weekend if you want. I’m teaching Jazz to cook, but I promise she’s past the point of accidentally poisoning you.”

“I’m not that bad.”

Wendy snorted. “You ate raw pierogies and then asked me if they were supposed to be that hard.”

“That was one time.”

“Yeah? Well, just because you cut the mouldy part off the tomatoes—or anything else—it doesn’t mean the rest is fine.”

“Um. I think I’ll pass on your home cooking,” Wirt said, overriding Jazz’s mutters about not being used to food lasting long enough to spoil like that. “I’m on the meal plan anyway, just like everyone else in res.”

“Like that’s any better. I may not eat there, but I’ve heard stories.”

“It’s better than your food was at the beginning of the year,” Wendy pointed out. “And don’t even get me started on your scavenging skills. If you were left on your own in the woods, you’d eat something poisonous the minute you started looking for food.”

Jazz frowned but didn’t deny it, which probably meant her scavenging skills were on par with his. “Just face it, Wendy. We’re not all going to survive the apocalypse,” joked Wirt.

She glared at him. “At least Jazz can hit a target.”

“That took me a while,” allowed Jazz, “but ghost hunting pays off.”

No. She was kidding. He knew that. He’d started it. He’d opened the door with the apocalypse quip. Of course she’d walked through it. She was friends with Wendy. Roommates. Which had to rub off. That comment had nothing to do with her old campfire story.

…Right?

-|-

Next or see more fics

#danny phantom #gravity falls #otgw #trollhunters #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #gf snippet #otgw snippet #trollhunters snippet #(shh I know that's not the plural of pierogi)#(but I say it with an s so that's how I spelled it)

45 notes · View notes

pinesconessecrets · 6 years

Text

Ice to Meet You

Merry Christmas @ladynightmare12 ! I hope you enjoy the fic!! <: I had a lot of fun with the soulmate AU, since it’s something I’ve always enjoyed. I combined it with the first meetings AU too. Have a great Christmas! <3

****

Wirt had given up on trying to find his soulmate when he was thirteen. He still remembered the conversation that came after he mentioned it to his mom. She had choked on her tea, wheezing until she’d managed to regain control of herself again. Then began the spiel about, “Oh, sweetie. You’ll meet her at some point in your life, don’t give up now!” and Wirt just sighed. Internally, of course. He didn’t want to upset his mom any further. A good bit of everyone in his grade had found their soulmate, leaving Wirt feeling terribly alone. Sara tried to comfort him, except she ran into her soulmate a few months later; it was some guy named Brian. That was a fun day.

He was a little more than relieved to graduate high school, which meant moving away to a college in a different state. A college in Oregon had caught his eye and he applied, half expecting to get denied. But lo and behold, the college actually accepted him and even had a full ride scholarship too.

Greg was against Wirt moving across the country when he broke the news. Wirt reassured him that he would call every day and keep in touch. He wouldn’t be left out just because Wirt didn’t live in the same house anymore.

Wirt enjoyed the trip to Oregon. His parents rented a small u-Haul for the stuff Wirt could take to put in his dorm. He was lucky enough to score a single person room, complete with his own bathroom. He didn’t think he could have managed if he had to share a dorm and a bathroom, much less having to suffer from public bathrooms.

They made the drive out to be like a mini vacation, taking their time since they left a few days early. Wirt’s nerves almost got the best of him a few times, the realization of him living somewhere that wasn’t with his mom and stepdad. Thankfully Greg managed to quickly distract him before he grew too anxious, eerily able to quickly figure out when his nerves were beginning to act up.

With the help of everyone, it didn’t take long before Wirt’s room was set up. He still had a few things to tweak here and there, like moving his desk closer to the window and hanging up his poems on the walls. He didn’t have much time to be particularly picky about how his room was set up with his parents and brother around.

They stayed in town for a few days, exploring the place with Wirt in tow. It definitely was a college town considering the absurd amount of fast food restaurants around. Like seriously, who needed this many fast food places? At least there were a few cafes for Wirt to hang out in. Cafes were pretty sweet places to chill at and they had a great effect on Wirt when it came to writing poetry. He was excited about that.

Tears were shed by his mom and Greg on the day they had to leave. Greg made Wirt promise to call him every day, and that was a rock fact. Wirt lingered in the parking lot for a bit longer than he intended, staring off into space before letting out a long sigh. He hoped he would be able to survive the semester before Christmas break. His next adventure in life had begun, only to bring challenges he had no way to prepare for.

Wirt got to studying diligently when the semester began. The majority of his classes were the core classes every freshman were required to take, including math. Thank god that he only needed to take two semesters of it due to his major in English. Math was one of his most detested classes; it was the worst. Maybe he was being overly dramatic, but Wirt would rather prefer to listen to someone scrape their nails on a chalkboard repeatedly for hours than be stuck in math class for even an hour. The entire point was above him, and the fact that other kids were majoring in math just blew his mind. They were to be feared.

The semester started out slow but picked up steam as the weeks went on. Midterms came and went, letting Wirt breathe a sigh of relief when his passing grades were posted.

He video called Greg before he went out trick or treating on Halloween, both happy and mortified that Greg decided to go as a garden gnome. Their trip to the Unknown was still very present in their minds years after it happened. At least now it was easier to deal with, and they didn’t have to worry about being sent into a fit of panic when winter rolled around anymore. Wirt admitted that Greg wore the outfit far better than he did, earning a protest of “No, you wore it better!” from Greg. They bickered back and forth until their mom told them to knock it out or else Greg wouldn’t be getting any candy that year. That shut Greg up and he hastily told Wirt goodbye and that he’d show him how much candy he got before going to bed.

Wirt found himself growing progressively more stressed as the end of the semester rolled around. His professors shoved study guides down their student’s throats and made it very clear that passing their finals would make or break their grades. Wirt found himself spending more and more time at his favorite cafe. He would have been surprised that he hadn’t drunk all of their tea if he wasn’t so stressed about passing his finals.

A week before finals, the unthinkable happened.

Wirt was on his way to the Jasmine Brew Cafe, lost in thought about his upcoming math final. It was the one he dreaded the most, and rightfully so. Other students in his class struggled as much as he did. The professor didn’t know how to break down the lesson so other kids could understand what he was trying to teach. Wirt barely managed to understand what the heck he was talking about most the time, and he hoped it would be enough.

Of course, the dork was so lost in thought that he wasn’t watching where he was walking. His foot made contact with frozen ice on the sidewalk, causing him to slip and fall down to the pavement. Wirt miraculously held onto his notebooks, laying on his back, winded from his fall.

Someone with unruly brown hair peered down at him with a look of mild concern. Wirt wished he could turn invisible because he knew that everyone around him saw what just happened.

“Hi there. It’s ice to meet you finally.” The other boy paused, before continuing. “I hope that’s not weird? I’ve seen you around campus before and I noticed you were always alone and I was going to say hi but I always got distracted and oh my god I’m sorry I’m kinda rambling. I tend to do that a lot and my sister always punches me and yep I’m gonna shut up now.”

Wirt’s wrist burned. That was what his stupid soulmate mark said. ‘Hi there, it’s ice to meet you finally.’

He wanted to say something witty back, but all that could come out of his mouth was, “Was that a motherfucking pun?” He rarely cussed, but dangit he was sleep deprived and angry that he was stupid enough to fall and slip on ice.

The other boy blanched, his extended hand frozen in shock. Wirt shuffled to his feet, clutching his notebooks to his chest. An awkward silence enveloped the two, only to be broken by the other boy.

“Do you want to go somewhere warm? Get some coffee or something?”

Wirt broke free of his surprise. “Uh, um, sure. I was heading to the Jasmine Brew Cafe to get some studying done. It’s right up the street here.”

“Cool. I’ve only been there once or twice, so lead the way.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at Wirt expectantly.

“Right.” Wirt turned on his heels and began walking to the cafe, fidgeting with the spiral of a notebook. He knew that he was probably acting slightly like a jerk. Okay, a lot like a jerk. He had spent the majority of his teenage years resenting the idea of soulmates, knowing he’d never find his and that he’d live the rest of his life alone. But look what happened. He ran into his soulmate.

The rush of warm air made Wirt feel grateful for heating, heading to his usual spot by the wall. He sat with his back to the wall, and a large window to his left. Being able to look out into the street helped declutter his mind.

He almost relaxed, until the other boy - his soulmate - slid into the chair across from him. He looked as nervous as Wirt was.

“I’m Dipper, by the way. I don’t think I introduced myself yet.”

“Wirt. It’s um, nice to meet you, I guess,” he mumbled, his awkwardness hitting him like a fricking train. Now that the fact that yep, him finding his soulmate was a thing, was starting to sink in, a feeling of panic also begun to set in too.

“Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re freaking out there a little. I mean, I’m kinda freaking out too, but that’s because I’m super pumped to have finally run into my soulmate.” Dipper looked giddy almost.

Wirt chewed on a nail. “Y-yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… I gave up on finding my soulmate years ago, so I never thought I would actually run into them. I hope you don’t think I’m a jerk or anything because oh my god I feel so bad for being cold to you.”

When Dipper was silent, Wirt looked up to find him holding back a snicker. With the biggest shit eating grin, Dipper replied, “Was that a motherfucking pun?”

“Oh my god.” Wirt groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Do not use my own words against me.”

“Kinda hard to considering they’re right here.” Dipper rolled his sleeve back, revealing the words scrawled across his arm. God, they were even in Wirt’s own handwriting. How crazy was that?

Wirt reached out to touch the words on Dipper’s arm, stopping short once he realized what he was about to do. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s a lot to take in. But I don’t mind if you wanna take a closer look at them.” His voice was quiet.

Figuring that he may as well roll with the punches, Wirt pulled his own sleeve back, exposing Dipper’s godawful pun written on the inside of his forearm. Dipper didn’t hesitate before running his fingers over Wirt’s pale skin, tracing the scratchy letters of his own handwriting. It looked different from his own, his letters rushed and hurried versus the flowing loops of Wirt’s.

Wirt finally caved and traced the words on Dipper’s arm. The two dorks sat in silence, no words needing to be exchanged as they let the importance of the day truly sink in.

The corners of Dipper’s mouth quirked up in a grin after a while. “So, did you wanna get a coffee and chat? And maybe tell me how you’ve bean all these years.”

Wirt had a feeling the puns weren’t ever going to stop.

#Pinescone #Pinescone Secret Santa #Pinescone Secret Santa 2018 #Wirt #Dipper #OTGW #GF #submission

15 notes · View notes

advocatewrites-blog · 6 years

Text

Into the Unknown Part 4 Chapter 1

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers, mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

“so I’m a sentry in snowdin forest, right? I sit out there and I watch for humans. it’s kind of boring. fortunately, in the forest, there’s this HUGE locked door. and it’s perfect for practicing knock-knock jokes. so one day, I’m knocking ‘em out, like usual. I knock on the door and say ‘knock knock’. and suddenly, from the other side…I hear a woman’s voice.

“‘who is there?’ so, naturally, I respond. ‘dishes.’ ‘dishes who?’ ‘dishes is a very bad joke.’ Then she just howls with laughter. like it’s the best joke she’s heard in a hundred years. so I keep ‘em coming, and she keeps laughing. she’s the best audience I’ve ever had. then, after a dozen of ‘em, SHE knocks and says ‘Knock knock!’ I say, ‘whos there?’ ‘old lady!’ ‘old lady who?’ ‘Oh! I did not know you could yodel!’

“wow. needless to say, this woman was extremely good. we kept telling each other jokes for hours. eventually, I had to leave. Papyrus gets kind of cranky without his bedtime story. but she told me to come by again, and so I did. then I did again. it’s kind of a thing now.”

The human is still listening, eyes wide and mouth full of burg. Its LV is at 5, meaning it’s still definitely a murderer. But it’s hard to remember that after seeing it pass through the puzzles his bro set up with a smile on its face, watch it engage with them. Watch it Spare.

“one day, though, I notice she wasn’t laughing as much. I asked her what was up. then she told me something strange. ‘if a human ever comes through this door…could you please, please promise me something? watch over them, and protect them, will you not?’ now, I hate making promises. and this woman, I don’t even know her name. but, someone who sincerely loves bad jokes…has an integrity you can’t say no to.”

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He can’t shake the boat in a meaningful way; everything is on a schedule, and nothing he does changes. But he has to know.

“do you get what I’m saying? That promise I made to her…do you know what would have happened if she hadn’t said anything? buddy…

You’d be dead where you stand.”

He didn’t mean to speak so forcefully; slip out of his font and use the tone he uses when he Judges. But the effect is immediate. The human’s eyes widen in fear and it runs still.

In a way, that’s all the answer he needs.

But then it starts crying. The other occupants of Grillby’s start to look at them, and he squirms under the attention. It raises its hands and starts to move them. It’s crude Hands, not helped by how much it’s trembling. He manages to get most of it.

Didn’t mean—accident—thought she would stop—didn’t know—not me—not myself--

How old was this kid anyway? It’s shorter than he is, and that’s saying something. Their hands shake too much and there are bruises on their legs and under their sweater. Old enough to kill? You don’t commit genocide on accident, but if they were half as upset about it then as they were now…

What did they mean by not myself?

I’ll fix, they sign. I’ll go back and save her. I promise.

*RESET

He sees it that time. The world stops. He watches it move backwards, like someone were rewinding a tape.

sans wakes up in his bed, like he always does. Usually, it takes him a long time to gather up the energy to restart the timeline again. He’ll lie in bed until Papyrus wakes him up and demands he go to work, and sometimes after that. This time, however, he jumps out of bed and makes some corrections to his notebook.

don’t trust them

Four are the Stars An Undertale/Gravity Falls crossover By the Poor Sap Advocate

Chapter 1

“How’d you think we ended up down here?” Dipper asked as he looked around.

“We fell, of course,” said Mabel, who was in the middle of making herself a daisy chain out of the more squished golden flowers. She gestured upwards, where just the faintest glint of blue skies and sunlight could be seen.

“Do you remember falling down somewhere?”

“Nope!”

“I don’t remember Gravity Falls having any mountains big enough for…this,” said Dipper.

He tried thinking back to what happened. He remembered Mabel was planning a party for the reopening of the Mystery Shack, they were hanging out in the gift shop…flashes of red and blue…then nothing.

“And how are these flowers growing, anyway? There’s like no sunlight down here!”

Mabel looked back down at her daisy chain in confusion.

“Do you still have your grappling hook?” Dipper asked. “Maybe we can—”

Mabel was in the air before he could even finish that sentence. She loved using the grappling hook, especially when she had a legitimate reason to use it.

Mabel scaled upward towards the highest ridge of the cliff. She grabbed onto the ridge with one hand, then jumped as she tried to grab the ledge above. Her hand stop on the sky. There was a loud booming noise, as though someone has struck a gong. The sky began to ripple like waves in a lake.

Mabel tumbled back down onto the golden flowers.

“MABEL!”

“What was that?” Mabel said as she sat back up, as though nothing had happened. “It feels like I just ran into a wall.”

Dipper’s mind started racing. There was something at the top of the mountain, something not normal. More Gravity Falls weirdness to investigate.

He took another look at Mabel and the distance she fell, and decided he would investigate it once they were looking down at it again.

“There’s a cave this way,” said Dipper. “We can probably hike our way down from here and see if there’s another entrance that’s not blocked by paranormal entities.”

Mabel pulled herself off the ground and dusted herself off. “You lead the way, bro!”

She had a new sweater on, a blue and violet striped design with a red heart in the middle. And for some reason, it felt very familiar to Dipper.

Frisk found themselves in the woods once again.

It was not the Unknown again, they put together quickly. It felt too…different. In fact, if it weren’t for the heat and the sun above, they could have thought they had made it back to the forests in Snowdin. It felt like magic was in the air.

Another thing different from the Unknown was how quickly they were able to find humans. And how many there were in one place. The sounds of crowds and traffic were audible within seconds, and they wandered towards its source.

It was hard to describe what they found. It was less of a house and more of a hovel.

“Alright, step right this way! The first tour of the new and improved Mystery Shack!”

The Cat wouldn’t be able to find them for a while. They could kill time, at least. Frisk wandered into the group and hid behind legs.

They were actually surprised that they were found so quickly. The Mystery Man leaned close to them, one eye inspecting them closely.

“Don’t think I didn’t see ya sneak in, kid,” he said. “Your parents in this group?”

They shook their head and shrugged.

“You gonna pay your way in yourself?”

They had to dig through their pockets a bit, but they managed to find a gold coin from the Underground and handed it to him. What shock he had that a child was carrying gold wore off on him quickly. He inspected it carefully, even going so far as to biting on it, before deciding he was satisfied and turned back to them.

“I don’t see too many kids with solid gold on them,” said the Mystery Man.

Frisk responded by giving him another gold coin.

“Good answer! Right this way, kid!”

Dipper took a step, and fell through the floor.

This was about the fourth time he had done that, and frankly it stopped being funny after the second. Mabel propped herself up on the pedestal and waited for him to come back.

“Hey, Froggit, you’re looking good today!” She called.

The Froggit in question gave an embarrassed burble, dropped a few gold coins, and hopped on its way.

“Why do they have so many puzzles leading up to their house?” Dipper asked as he emerged from the vent system.

“Maybe it’s a monster thing,” said Mabel. “Did the journal have anything about a kingdom of monsters?”

“Not that I remember,” said Dipper. “I just wish Grunkle Stan had given the journal back before all this happened.”

He took another step, and fell through.

Mabel took a bite out of the spider doughnut.

“Ew…crunchy…”

Dipper tumbled back upstairs.

“No journal’s gonna make you good at puzzles, bro,” said Mabel.

“The answer’s down there,” said Dipper. “I just can’t remember it all the way. Here’s another question: why would monsters have puzzles that are so easy to solve?”

“Maybe they’re just waiting for a stupid enough human to solve them,”

“They wouldn’t be waiting for human down here.”

“Toriel was.”

“And you trust her?”

“What?” Mabel asked. “She’s a delightful goat mother, how suspicious can you be of her?”

“I’m just saying,” said Dipper. “We’re stuck in the land of monsters, you were literally bounced off a shield preventing us from escaping, I almost got killed by a flower, and there’s this nice old goat woman who wants us to be her children.”

“You’re just being over-suspicious. She’s perfectly fine!”

“There is something I must do,” said Toriel. “Please stay here.”

She put her book down and made a beeline for the staircase. Dipper’s blood ran cold.

“…perfectly fine….” Said Mabel.

“We’re going,” said Dipper, already running to catch up with Toriel.

“That was a pretty cool snail fact though!”

It was hard to describe the Mystery Shack. If Frisk had to, they would say it was not worth the 2G. The decorations were fake; some insulting so, and some just insulting. The real mystery of the mystery shack was how readily everyone bought it.

They exited through the gift shop, fitting considering the rest of the tour, bought a map of the area with what gold they had left, and returned to the woods.

They had hiked through the forest long enough that they were decently hidden when it started to get dark. The Mystery Man may have taken their gold, but it was unlikely that anyone else would.

There was still no sign of the Cat.

Once they found a clearing far enough away that they wouldn’t be spotted, they curled in on themselves and fell asleep.

They were only asleep for about an hour when they woke up to the sounds of the Cat’s low growl.

He stood in front of them, ready to pounce. His eyes were focused on the bush in front of him, so much so that Frisk wondered if he could even see them. When they shifted and waved at him, he jumped into the bushes.

A very human-sounding voice screamed out.

It took Frisk a few tries of trying to grab him and pulling his tail to get the Cat to withdraw from the bush. Something was in its mouth. No...someone. They were humanoid, barely the length of Frisk’s arm. Most of their hair was tucked under a red cone of a hat.

It was some kind of monster, Frisk realized. A gnome, if they had to guess.

Frisk looked to the Cat disapprovingly. The Cat rolled its eyes, but put the gnome down all the same.

The gnome didn’t respond. It ran past before Frisk could ask it any more questions.

The Cat said something, complaining about the gnomes trying to capture him and ride him into battle, but Frisk was only half paying attention. There was magic in these woods.

Author’s Note:

#fic #Into the Unknown #Undertale #Gravity Falls #sans #Frisk #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Stan Pines #toriel #the Cat #featured

5 notes · View notes

doodlingleluke · 7 years

Photo

a bit later I usually am with these, but here’s what I’ve been up to in 2017. While I feel like my improvement isn’t as obvious as ith as been in previous years, I still feel like this was a really good art year for me. I actually did a lot of pieces that I really liked and actually still like months later! that is a completely new sensation for me! I feel like I’m really getting to where I want to be with my art, so hopefully this will continue in 2018.

for the first time I feel like commenting on my choices for this thing, mostly cause I just want to but also in case someone wants to know how I feel about my own art. but because theres a lot of drawings here that’ll continue under the cut

wow I use red and pink/purple hues way more than I thought. anyways.

january - this year I wanted to get better at doing at least somewhat interesting backgrounds (even if it just means a simple colour) and experimenting more with different textures and styles, and I still think this tenten was a good start. I had been wanting to draw something like this with her for ages and I’m glad I finally was able to pull it off.

february - february didn’t really have any drawings that stood out to me, but this month I started drawing a lot more “casual” trek stuff, as in stuff that doesn’t need to have a punchline. I see a lot of problems with it now, but I really liked this seven when I first drew it.

march - again, not a month where I found anything particularly good, but it was the month when I got into night in the woods (still a big fan of it) and this was honestly the best of the nitw art I did.

april - I am pretty sure the demon kankuro was a redraw of an older, shittier demon kankuro I can’t be bothered to find. Its a bit messy and his facial features are off, but I still think theres some nice details and colours. At this point I had also started to use a bit of after effects (the blur around the edges). the 80s ino is part of a konoha girls in vintage clothes thing that admittedly isn’t all that good looking, but it was a lot of fun and probably my favourite outfit drawing.

may - I spent most of this month doing art memes inbetween exams and dying, but this random kankuro somehow found its way in. yeah its not spectacular or anything but it kinda happened on a whim and its not a style of colouring I use very often. I don’t remember what brush I used but I love how it looks. pardon my french but I’m pleased with how this turned out.

june - I moved this month so I’m surprised I had time to draw at all. this sad nog represents my inner turmoil and stress at the time. probably. anyways, I feel like this was the first time I was able to cartoonify a ferengi somewhat successfully. I also finally started toning down my exessive highlighting.

july - I spent most of july stuck in the mountains with no internet, yet somehow I still managed to draw a bunch of shit I still really like. The magical girl temari was the first time I tried to do a combination of solid and blended shading. I’ve had issues with my shading for a long time and I think this was a step in the right direction. It was mainly inspired by how much I liked the solid shading of the other one, which is also the only good drawing I’ve ever done of that oc.

august - what the fuck how did I draw so many things I like in august. For the deanna I just suddenly got the idea to try something art nouveau, and while its not perfect I’m still happy with the result. The hair took forever but I’m still in love with it, and I’ve been incorporating some of those elements into my art ever since. The temari REALLY benefited from solid shading instead of me drowning it in exessive layers of purple like I usually do when I shade. idk what to say, I love it and I genuinely think its one of the coolest things I’ve ever drawn. for the top one I wanted to do something original and different from my usual stuff. The background is a bit messy but I still like the overall result and it has inspired me to draw more casual stuff that doesn’t necessarily need to be posted here.

september - no contest here, the konoha witch series took a lot of time, but I’m still happy with the result.Well for some of them at least. Ino is hands down my favourite and I think its obvious that shes the one I put the most thought and effort into (even though it started with a random sketch of tenten). Apparently I have some kind of bias towards pink and purple, which might explain why I think Ino just ended up with the nicest looking colours out of all the girls.

october - I didn’t have time to do a big halloween piece this year, but this wirt was still pretty halloween-y. the colours turned out better than I expected, especially the shading on his face. The background doesn’t really make sense, but I think it looks nice so ya know, whatever. This was also the first time I watched over the garden wall so this also has some sentimental value I guess.

november - Huevember month! which meant a lot to choose from! the kira I did on the last day of november is honestly my favourite out of all the huevember drawings I did. I don’t do a lot of drawings with the light source in the back, but I think it really worked here. idk I just think the colours and the style look really neat. It feels weird being so positive about my art hah but I don’t have anything I dislike about this one. I do have a few problems with the temari, but I just really like the colours, and I like that I did something interesting with the colours for once in my life. The tilly is in all honesty not a fave of mine, I actually kind of dislike it BUT it did get featured on after trek so I feel like it was a significant part of my ~art year~

december - I’ve had a lot on my mind this month, so sadly I’ve been really inactive here. The elf temari isn’t really all that special, but then again I don’t think its directly bad and I think the colours turned out better than what they usually do when I try shading my lineless art. The other one is a redraw of a drawing I did back in may, and while I (as always) have some problems with it I do think its a big improvement over the old one (which is so ugly that I was genuinely surprised to find that it was drawn...this year).

thank you if you bothered to read all of this! I know this was completely pointless but at the same time I’ve found that artists often hav completely different opinions on their art than others do so there might possibly be something a little bit interesting here. just a tiny bit.

#listen its late as hell im the only one still up and i felt like blathering #summary of art 2017 #something happened over summer idk what but from july and onwards ive started to really like my art

17 notes · View notes