This is an idea I’ve been thinking about way too much and ended up drawing in four days in a feverish daze. It’s a lot to explain here, but I’m calling it the “community leader” AU. Not exactly mafia, but... adjacent.

We’ll have another comic showing Luigi’s side of things soon!

kiss it off me - chapter one

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dreamnap

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Dream's eyes raked frantically over the limited options in his wardrobe. He was already running late thanks to rush hour traffic and he didn't want to mess up this date. Not when this guy actually seemed normal and someone he could genuinely grow to like. Being in his situation didn't exactly give him the opportunity to go out that much and neither of his best friends beloved him until he showed them the message.

Long, calloused fingers ran over the various hangers until he reached a dark green button up. They were going to a restaurant but not an extremely fancy one so he could get away with a pair of jeans with it. Glancing in the mirror on the adjacent wall, Dream ran a hand through his dirty blond locks tousling them until he was satisfied.

He slowly buttoned up the emerald fabric until he got to the top two. After a brief moment of consideration he left them both open purposefully, it looked better that way. Bronzed skin exposed along with his prominent collarbone. Even he couldn’t find a fault with his appearance.

Swallowing the nerves that were building up inside he forced himself out the door knowing that if he stayed any longer he would just talk himself out of it.

He left the small apartment and jogged down the stairs to the lobby before exiting it to find his old, run-down car. It struggled to run most days but seeing as it still worked and Dream couldn't afford a new one yet, he made do.

The engine hummed nosily when he started the car and reversed out of his space. Soft music played in the background in an attempt to calm his desperately trembling knuckles so he didn't crash his car before he even got there. His journey was familiar along with the flashing scenery that disappeared just as quickly as it came into peripheral .

Dream sped along the winding roads to the other side of town where his closest and only real friends George and Wilbur resided with Wilbur's son Tommy. Seeing as he was also a single father, both of them made an effort to help each other out when they needed it except it was usually Wilbur helping Dream since he had the additional help of George. But Wilbur got it. Sure their situations weren’t the exact same but it was comforting to have someone so close to him in the same scenario.

As he reached their apartment block, Dream halted the car rapidly and grabbed the small bag he placed in the passenger seat and he slammed the door. Running up the stairs was difficult since they lived on a much higher floor than him and the elevator was out of use.

Unfortunately he didn't get to go to the gym as much as he would've liked to. In high school he'd been rather athletic and got a lot of attention for it. But that's what landed him in his current situation. Not that he didn't appreciate the blessing that came out of his mistake but there was always a small feeling of regret in the back of his mind.

Noise was emitted from their apartment from the stairwell and Dream chuckled when he heard the shrieks of laughter that undoubtedly belonged to Tommy.

The scene he was greeted with upon opening the creaky door was one that was typical of visiting George and Wilbur's place after work. Tommy and Tubbo were being chased by Wilbur as the two young boys who still had the remnants of their dinner smeared around their mouths attempted to bang on the door which he knew lead to George's room.

It was more of a struggle than he'd like to admit to hold back his sniggers at the sight. Tommy terrorised his dad's roommate at any given chance, even without Tubbo, but having his best friend at his side just amped up that energy and fed into his mischievous tendencies.

Their frantic dashing around the living room, trying to get into George's room which also functioned as his office proved to be futile as Wilbur scooped them gently into his arms and then strung the duo who were still shrieking with obnoxious laughter onto his shoulders, tickling their sides lightly as he did so.

Only then did Tubbo notice his dad's presence at the doorway. He nearly jumped off from where he was perched comfortably on Wilbur's shoulder. Running into Dream's arms with an excited squeal and attaching onto his leg, bearing a startling resemblance to a koala. This was a moment of domestic bliss. Of elevated suburbia to where it could be considered art. Dream had lifted his child off his leg and pulled him closely into his chest. Tubbo snuggled into him and let out a content sigh as Dream rubbed comforting little circles into his back.

The moment was short lived, Tommy was climbing his leg - well attempting to climb it so he could reach Tubbo and they could go back to playing together. Eventually Dream put Tubbo back on the ground gently and reluctantly watched as the two boys immediately engaged themselves in their previous game. Will shook his head fondly at the joyful giggles that filled the apartment once more.

Seeming to sense that it was safe to come out for a while, George emerged from his room but not before making sure to lock it after himself. Tommy had gotten in once before and been such a menace that they banned him from going in there. To tell the truth Dream was envious of the taller man who adorned mustard yellow sweaters and had the support of his family along with his perfect best friend. Dream was all alone.

Sure he had Tubbo who was more than enough, his little boy alone could make him infinitely happy. However his heart ached and longed for some kind of support, whether it was platonic or romantic. Wilbur and George server the platonic purpose but he didn't like to intrude on them more than he already did. They were already extremely helpful by collecting Tubbo from school with Tommy everyday because Dream would never be able to make it in time. Maybe if this date worked out though, he might find his other half.

Dream wasn't certain he believed in soulmates. In high school when he was beyond naive, the idea had seemed perfectly plausible and he truly believed he had found his in Tubbo's mother. Well that didn't end up being the case he reminded himself whenever his mind would drift to her. It never happened intentionally but Tubbo had her eyes and he couldn't meet his gaze without thinking of the woman who broke his heart into smithereens.

The concept wasn't something he had a lot of faith in anymore but maybe this time it could be different. That was a lot of faith to put in a tinder date of all things though. Even with George and Wilbur persistently trying to get him back into dating for the last year and a half, Dream had politely refused their efforts. Well, until now.

He remembered it clearly like yesterday, the three of them sat on the couch after Wilbur and Dream had put the boys to bed which was a challenge. Tommy and Tubbo were a nightmare to get to sleep when they were having a sleepover and you had to exhaust them to ensure they didn't wake up ten minutes later and start chatting for half the night. George hadn't bothered to help them and had instead chosen to nap on the couch but not after opening a bottle of red wine and pouring himself a glass.

Dream and Wilbur had found him half asleep on the grey fabric, wine glass tipping dangerously in his hand. Dream had placed it on the coffee table as George stirred in his sleep and blinked wearily. The three men all held a glass of red wine and maintained idle chatter until a natural halt occurred in the conversation. In which Dream seized the opportunity to try bring up something that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while. And what better people to ask than his two closest friends. His two only friends.

It was impossible to forget the cheshire grin that formed on Wilbur's face after he confided in them about his loneliness and wanting to get back into dating. Dream was shaking inside as they discussed it, heart fluttering and beating so rapidly that it felt as though it would just burst out of his chest as any moment without warning. Both of them had relished in the opportunity to tease him lightly but he knew it was just their way of showing support.

George had grabbed his laptop with a slight smirk and began typing so quickly that Dream couldn't tell what he was doing. Wilbur raised an eyebrow at what George was setting up before the two of them turned around at the same time, facing him eerily.

"I feel like I'm about to be inducted into a cult," Dream commented, a nervous air to his tone.

Wilbur shared a glance with George "not a cult but we're signing you up to tinder..."

His eyes widened comically fast "wait what? guys I can barely talk to you in person - I won't be able to hold a conversation with some stranger online."

"You were literally the biggest Chad in school," George pointed out "you'll be fine."

Dream still wasn't convinced about the idea "but isn't this more of a like straight person thing...shouldn't we use grindr?"

In sync again, to the point where Dream was actually both curious and concerned about how many times they must practice this, George and Wilbur shared a look and appeared to be on the edge of laughter.

"What?" Dream asked, not getting why they found it so funny. Maybe it was just the contrast to how straight he'd acted and thought he was in high school and now he was fully out.

"Oh innoncent little Dreamie," Wilbur teased condescendingly while George giggled "you're too classy for grindr darling."

Whether that supposed to be a compliment or some weird backhanded one Dream didn't know "isn't it for gay guys though?"

George seemed to have had enough of drawing out the whole situation "it depends Dream, do you want to get dicked down for a night or do you want to try find a relationship."

"I'm not leaving Tubbo for a night just to get dick," Dream said pointedly "and wait...are you calling me a bottom?"

George clapped his hands together awkwardly "so anyway for your pictures I was thinking-"

Dream was persistent though and a mischievous gleam that was oddly similar to the one Tommy and Tubbo had appeared in his gaze. George had placed his wine glass back on the coffee table so Dream full on tackled him and tickled his sides relentlessly.

Wilbur joined in and both of the taller men were teasing George about being so ticklish everywhere. After George started fighting back and regained some breath, the trio stared up at the ceiling from where they were pilled up on top of each other on the old carpet. It wasn't exactly comfortable but his best friends made it bearable.

Wilbur broke the silence eventually by blurting out something that left them all cackling down loud that it woke Tommy and Tubbo from their slumber. Yet they had followed his advice and put the so called hottest picture Wilbur's ever seen of Dream at the front of his profile.

Dream supposed that he could see the appeal of it, he had looked good there. Eyes a unique hue of green that bared a striking resemblance to the new spring growth, bright and soft all at once. Along with a white shirt only half buttoned and veiny knuckles which adorned a set of rings. It was at least a year old this picture, he couldn't exactly remember when but Wilbur had demanded that he used it.

The other one that the two British men used for him was a surprise. One that he had from the gym, a light layer of sweat coating the surface of his chest, shimmering in the light. His muscles were slightly flexed, not enough for it to be cringy but they were eye-catching. He hadn't looked that good in a while, work had picked up more than usual and Tubbo had started school in the time since the picture was taken. Even he couldn't deny that he looked hot though and both of his friends strongly agreed.

Yet despite their confidence in their work, neither of the two believed him at first when he said that he had been talking to a guy and secured a date. The look on their faces after he proved them wrong had been worth it though.

A tug at his leg brought Dream out of the never ending stream of thoughts in his head and he glanced down to see Tubbo smiling up at him giving him the sweetest, softest stare. If Wilbur's tall frame wasn't blocking his view of the mirror, Dream was certain he'd be greeted with the sight of himself completely overcome with love and adoration.

"Dad can I please sleepover tonight?" Tommy wants to show me his new plushie." Tubbo asked.

Dream's smile widened as he told Tubbo that he could causing his little bit to hug him tightly before joining his best friend once more.

"George and I will take care of him," Wilbur placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder blade.

He didn't know how to respond to that so Dream just nodded in appreciation. There were so many worries coursing through his brain, all of them building up to the point where he could feel himself begin to shake. His body trembled ever so slightly and Will looked concerned. At first the date had seemed like a good idea, a chance to get into dating after nearly two years of working up the courage to even try again.

Now he was seriously regretting his decision though. What if this guy was nothing like who he said he was? Did he like kids? Was he prepared to deal with the surprise of Dream having a kid?

Dream couldn't even ask the latter question despite it being the most essential one. Nobody would want to take on the responsibility of dating a guy who had a child. Tubbo wasn't that young, there were no smelly nappies or bottles involved anymore but it was still a lot to ask of someone. Dream didn't want Tubbo to be just viewed as a burden or accessory to him, he would always come first.

The states he received whenever he dropped Tubbo to school in the morning were intense, full of preconceived judgements. He had a right to be nervous about the outcome of this date though, how it would go if he revealed that he was actually a single dad. It was better to lie than to make himself vulnerable though. For both himself and Tubbo.

They couldn't get attached to someone who would just up and leave them. Not like last time.

"Are you alright Dream?" George shook him gently.

Dream wasn't alright but despite all of his nerves, something was telling him to go on the date. And if he didn't go willingly, George and Wilbur would march him back down the stairs and drive him all the way to the restaurant themselves just to ensure that he went. They meant well but as soon as he'd brought the idea up, neither of the two had let go of it, both equally persistent.

"Yeah you kept zoning out," Wilbur added.

Dream shrugged in an effort to dismiss it "just some pre-date jitters," he lied smoothly - well was it really a lie "you know...it's been a long time since I've gone out anywhere, let alone on a date."

"Maybe he can help you unwind," Wilbur wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm leaving," Dream groaned "bye George I'll see you later."

"Why is George the only one to get a goodbye?" Wilbur whined as Dream headed for the door again.

"He's pretty," Dream rolled his eyes "bye Will."

In the distance he could hear what sounded like words of affirmation, reassuring him that it was all going to work out. Or at least he hoped they were words of encouragement. This date could turn out amazing but the stress it was putting him under before he'd even driven to the place wasn't.

Dream had never actually been to the restaurant that the other man had suggested. It was on the outskirts of town, quite far away from his apartment and a bit out of his and Tubbo's budget. Not that Tubbo cared, he'd order chicken nuggets no matter where they were. As his car crawled up the busy road, his nerves increased tenfold and the anxious feeling bubbling inside of him was overwhelming.

When he reached the destination just two minutes before they were supposed to meet, Dream let out a sigh of relief. He didn't want to make a bad first impression by being late or causing the other boy to panic and think he wasn't going to come at all. In the fairly empty car park, illuminated only by a flickering pink neon sign across the road and one faded street lamp, Dream hyped himself up inside, working up the nerve to get out and meet this guy.

A warm atmosphere, golden even, greeted him as he pushed the wooden door open. The hostess immediately guided him to a table in the back right of the restaurant where the guy was already sitting. This place was beyond what Dream had expected, it wasn't supposed to be that fancy or expressive but the deep red walls with golden accents proved that wrong.

His jaw unhinged slightly and Dream froze once he made eye contact with the brunette man sitting at the table for two by himself. He wrung his hands together anxiously on the white tablecloth, not having noticed Dream approaching the table. The blonde was blown away though, he hadn't thought it to be possible but he somehow looked even better than his pictures and they were, well they were something else.

Small stubble lined the edge of soft cheeks that were tinted a pale pink and luscious lips captivated him. Just when he thought he couldn't be more enthralled by the man sitting at the table, his gaze shifted upwards and oh fuck his eyes. They were beautiful and Dream couldn't stop himself from staring.

Brown eyes. So deep that he could feel himself getting lost in them already and it had been mere seconds. Dark, rich and decadent pools that reminded Dream of the colour of fresh earth after rain. Even in the dim light, he could tell they'd be stunning in the sunlight, brilliant and clear. They'd melt into shocking golden rays or copper against honey and shade. He was entrancing beyond all fathomable belief. Little flicks of jet black eyeliner tracing the edge of his lids.

Dream tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible but that proved to be rather difficult considering how long he'd stared at his date. Nevertheless, he let a confident yet faint smirk form in an attempt to convey a calm persona and not the man closer to crumbling than an eroded cliff or a rapid landslide.

With a similar bravado to his high school self, Dream smiled coyly "you're Sapnap right?"

He reflected a similar smirk "I don't know am I? It depends whose asking."

Dream hadn't anticipated being this attracted to a man's voice ever but here he was. Smooth, dulcet tones laced with something sweeter than honey that only drew Dream in more of that was possible. His voice was compelling and he'd only just spoken but Dream was hooked. Like a siren pulling him into the deep end to drown him, Dream would willingly let him do it though. The nerves had been soothed slightly but he was wondering what he'd done to deserve to go on a date with a man this gorgeous.

"I'm Dream," he introduced himself smoothly with a charming grin.

Despite already knowing his name, the other man rose an eyebrow at it before a teasing half smile grew on his face "hmm are you going to say you're the man of my dreams now?"

He chuckled quietly "I could be but no, cheesy pick up lines aren't really my thing."

"Good because I would've left if you had," Sapnap remarked casually "and it would've been such a shame because the pictures really don't do you justice."

Now it was Dream's turn to raise an eyebrow "oh really?"

Sapnap nodded, tauntingly slow "you were already attractive but wow - I didn't know I was going on a date with someone who looks like they could be a Greek god."

Normally comments like that didn't get to Dream but there was something about him and his stupidly perfect southern drawl that was even more prominent in that comment. So he could feel his cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of crimson and Sapnap noticed. He didn't mention it but Dream saw the hint of a satisfied smirk creep onto his face.

Their intensely held stare was promptly removed by the arrival of a waiter at the secluded table. dream was grateful for their intervention because it gave him the chance to catch his breath which he didn't realise he'd been holding in anticipation. As Sapnap gave his order, Dream took the opportunity to admire him further since he wouldn't notice it. A silver chain hung from his neck and if he wasn't imagining things , there was a small tattoo on his right bicep.

"And for you sir?" The waiter turned to him expectantly.

Dream hadn't payed attention to what Sapnap had chosen, nor had he even read through the menu but he wasn't going to admit that.

"The same," he answered with as much confidence as he could muster up.

A nod from the waiter lead him to intense but the sly and mocking expression Sapnap bore let him know that he hadn't been as slick and subtle as he would've liked to think.

"Did you even hear what I ordered?" He asked, the amusement evident in his voice.

"No," Dream found himself blurting out before he could stop "please tell me you didn't order something gross like cow liver."

Sapnap's face was deadpan, totally neutral and unreadable "that's my favourite," and he kept it like that for a moment to internally snigger at Dream's expression of utter horror "I'm joking dude, I ordered steak don't worry."

Dream's eyes widened comically as he exclaimed "you dickhead!" but they both knew his words weren't genuine.

"Maybe," Sapnap shrugged indifferently "but it's not really my problem, you were the one who couldn't look away from me long enough to read it."

“And what if I was,” Dream retorted “I can’t help it when you look like that.”

It was Sapnap’s turn to flush brightly and the two fell into a natural flow of teasing comments as they got to know each other further. Dream was surprised at how easy talking to Sapnap came to him, there was never a dull or silent moment in their conversation and he didn’t have to overthink it or portray himself in a certain way. Something that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Sapnap was in his final year of college, studying computer science which surprised Dream considering he worked in it. He was freaking out way more than he’d liked to admit over this information but kept it hidden behind a collected facade. Part of him was a bit worried about being five years older than Sapnap before coming on the date but they had so many common interests and meshed so well that those thoughts were quickly silenced.

The tattoo on his bicep was a little one of a cat. Not the first thing Dream was expecting given his aesthetic and personality but he learnt that Sapnap had three cats and that the tattoo had been a dare while on a night out and it had been the first thing to come to mind. Nevertheless Dream found it adorable how it completely juxtaposed his appearance.

As the two were finishing up their steak, Dream felt his phone vibrating in the back pocket of his jeans. Worry instantly overcame him, he’d left it on do not disturb for everyone except George and Wilbur in case there was an emergency with Tubbo or something went wrong. Obviously something had happened. It was a shame that it had to occur in the middle of his date and that said date would probably hate him for ditching and he’d ruin any chances at love for the foreseeable future. But Tubbo was his number one priority and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much it hurt him.

Visions of all his worst nightmares sprang to the forefront of his mind and Dream cursed his active imagination because it really wasn’t helping put him at ease. How could he try to reassure himself that it wasn’t anything too serious, hope that things were alright when all of the worst scenarios imaginable were tormenting him.

He winced slightly as he faced the concerned expression Sapnap wore. “I’m really sorry for this but I have to go, like now, it’s urgent.”

“Oh,” the other man breathed softly, not knowing how to react or what to say.

“My friend called, I told them not to unless it was an emergency. I’m sorry Sapnap.”

Before the younger man even had a chance to check he was alright or say goodbye, Dream had gotten up from the table and left some money on the side for the meal. Part of him was tempted to go back and make it a rain check and that they’d continue this date another time, but he had a feeling this just fucked everything up. Sapnap probably believed he was lying and just trying to get away from the date but no matter how much it hurt both of them, it was easier than explaining that he was a single dad this early on in a potential relationship.

Dream overtook a string of slow vehicles and was definitely going above the speed limit. But that wasn’t his concern even though it should have been. He needed to get to Tubbo. To make sure he was safe and help solve whatever problem had arisen. While stuck at a red light he texted George to let him know that he was on the way home, he would’ve called, demanding to know what happened but he knew it would just stress him out even more and there would be no way he could focus on driving.

When he reached the apartment building that he’d been at just a few hours prior, Dream nearly forgot to lock his car in his haste to get to Tubbo. He ran up the stairs at a speed that he didn’t know was possible in his current physical state and banged harshly on the wooden door to get their attention. Wilbur opened it quickly and guided him over to the room where the boy’s had been sleeping.

And curled up in a little ball over a bowl of what appeared to be vomit was Tubbo. Pearlescent and trembling but still reaching out towards him, longing for the comfort of his dad. Tommy was patting his arm awkwardly, unsure as to how he could support and help him but wanting to help or reassure his best friend somehow.

Dream pulled Tubbo close to his chest, not caring if he ended up getting sick on him. After raising a baby all by himself from day one, that didn’t phase him. In the back of his mind Sapnap lingered along with the pure bliss he’d experienced on their date. He wanted desperately to say he regretted leaving without much of an explanation but it was easier this way. It had to be.

Books- Ben Hargreeves x reader

(Hello, everyone. I got bored and decided to write this

TW: None)

The library was your sanctuary. Books were the best thing in the world. A quick escape through pages. So, every Friday, you would happily walk to the library, loading your arms up with books, and returning to your apartment to read. It was normally (favorite genre), but you always loved to go out of your comfort zone too! It was always more than five and you finished them every. Single. Time. 

Today was no different. It was Friday, you had just gotten off a pretty okay shift of work, and you practically sped to the library. It was always exciting, like opening new gifts at Christmas, especially if they had gotten in new books. The library was huge, two stories of books and then another story for crafts and the spot where you can read to kids. You had even sometimes gone up and read books to the kids, it was a good way to spend extra time. When you walked in, the librarians immediately greeted you with a big smile. Being the Friday crew, they knew you so well. 

“Hey, Jack,” you smile at the librarian, he offers a nod to show he’s listening. “Anything new?” 

“Uhhhh,” he leans back a bit, thinking hard, “I think, if I remember, there’s a new one in Biographies and a few new ones in Fantasy.” 

“Thanks,” you immediately beeline it to the Fantasy books. If there are two new ones, that’s the way to go. 

When you make it to the Fantasy section, however, there were already two people hanging out there. A boy with messy hair and eyeliner on had his feet on the only table in the back. The other boy had thick black hair and he only wore fully-black clothes. He looked through the books on the other side from you with an easy smile. The boy with his feet on his table noticed you and gave you a wide smile that looked almost faked, tilting his head a bit. He gave him a straight-mouthed smile back and turn over to the shelves. 

There was everything from The Sword of Shannara to Good Omens to Harry Potter. You grabbed The Sword of Shannara off the shelf, it would be good to read it again. As you fumbled through the shelf, down the rows, you grow a bit closer to the boy with thick hair. He had stopped in his tracks to read the summary of a book and was leaning on the shelf a bit. The new books were displayed right by him. As you walk to the new books, he walks over to the new books. As you reach out for the book on the shelf, he reaches out for the book on the shelf. Your hands knock together but were quickly pulled away from each other. 

“Sorry!” You whisper out, jumping a bit. “You can have it.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he whispers back. His voice was smooth. “You take it.” 

“Seriously, I already have enough books,” you gesture down at the three books in your hands. “Go ahead.” 

A small smile finally graces his lips, “thanks.” He grabs the book and adds it to the other one. He looks down at the books in your own hands. “The Sword of Shannara? I love that whole series. Have you read it all?” 

You nod quickly, excited to see a fellow book nerd, “I love Terry Brooks writing! Which book is your favorite?” 

“First King of Shannara, you?” 

“The Wishsong of Shannara. Most people like The Elfstones of Shannara but damn that one was hard to get through! Definitely overrated.” 

“Right? It was completely-” 

“My GOD,” the boy in the chair flops dramatically, “Get a room. I don’t wanna hear about this anymore.” He plugs his ears. “LALALALALA.” 

The boy scoffs and rolls his eyes, “please ignore my brother. He’s a bit of douche if you haven’t noticed.” You chuckled along with him. 

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N),” you offer a hand. “It’s good to meet another Shannara fan.” 

“Ben Hargreeves and ditto,” he shook my hand, probably a little too excitedly. It got to the point where your arm ached a little bit. 

“Ben Hargeeves?” Your mouth drops a bit. “Like, The Horror, Ben Hargreeves?” 

He looked a bit sheepish and turned nervous for a moment but he uttered out, “yeah, that’s me.” 

“No, way!” You smile at him. “I’ve read every single one of your guys’ comic books. My friend group went as you guys for Halloween one year! We used to spend hours plaguing over news reports of you guys to see if any of you went to our school.” You laugh a bit at the memory. “It was really stupid, we probably should’ve known you guys didn’t go to like an actual school.” 

“That’s sweet,” he scratches his head a bit. 

“And I’m guessing… you’re Klaus?” You look over at the other boy who was hanging over the chair, staring at both of you. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Man, you really do know us,” Ben laughs. “It’s almost stalkerish.” 

“Ah, it’s always the bookish ones,” you snap your fingers. “I’d watch out Hargreeves.” 

Ben laughs even harder, “alright, okay. It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Beeeen,” Klaus groaned, “I want to go now. Come on, man.” 

“Fine, just give me a minute,” he rolled his eyes and gave me a ‘Can you believe him?’ look. You shake your head. “Wanna go check out our books together?” 

“Yeah, I would love that,” you say, smiling. 

Together, you guys approached the open librarian and Ben lays his books down first. She quickly checked his stuff out but when it came to you, she took longer. You knew her of course, one of your favorite librarians. Ivy and you had sometimes even gone out to brunch a few times. Same book club and stuff. 

“(Y/N)?” Ivy gave you a sly smile, keeping her voice quiet. “Who’s that?” 

“Ben,” you mumble back, barely making eye contact.

 “So, you got a boyfriend and didn’t tell me?” Ivy asked. 

“Shut up, Ivy,” you hiss. “Not every guy I talk to is my boyfriend.” 

“Given your talking with guys history, which is just Jack,” she pushes her hair back, “you’ve got yourself a boyfriend.” 

“Please check out my books,” you groan, looking over at Ben. He just stood there with an unknowing smile on his face. As she kept on scanning your books, she kept on turning her eyes to him and nodding at him. You rub your eyes in annoyance but hand her your library card. Once she’s finally done, Ben runs back up to the desk. 

“Can I borrow a pen and some paper?” He asks quickly, almost tripping over his words. 

Ivy just nodded and handed him some printer paper and slid a pen along with it. Ben started scribbling down something as Ivy gave me my books. He had his arms up, guarding the paper so no one could see. Ivy grinned knowingly and you tell her ‘shut the hell up’ with your eyes. Finally, he folded it up a bit and then gave it to you. Ben opened his mouth to say something but Klaus being Klaus, as far as you could see, interrupted. 

“Benerino, it’s time to go!” Klaus screams, making everyone glare at him. “You had your nerd time now drive me to the liquor store please!” 

“Yes, hold on,” Ben says back calmly. He then turns and smiles at you. “So, see you around?” 

“Yeah,” You nod happily. “See you around.” Ben nods and then walks out, grabbing Klaus’s arm and pulling him out. 

“Well, take a peek at the note,” Ivy said with excitement in her voice. You shrug your shoulders and finally open up the note. It read:

(Y/N), 

Here’s my number if you ever wanna talk about Shannara again over coffee or something. 

(888)-(888)-(8888)

Ben

Next to his name was a small drawing of a ghost it was actually really cute. You grin down at the paper and you fold up the paper, putting in the back pocket of your jeans. Picking up your books you look at Ivy with your smile and start to walk out. 

“Wait, (Y/N)!” Ivy said. “What did it say? Don’t close that door. I wanna know-” 

And you left her, excited to call Ben later today and set up a coffee date with him.

Our Violent Histories: A Logger Fic

1943

The wet dirt was cold and deep as Ben’s face was pushed into the muck. He struggled as much as he was able; but the boot pressing against his head was relentless.

As he gasped for breath he could vaguely hear Sam screaming at the German soldiers surrounding them

“Make him stop! He’s just a kid for Christ’s sake - Get the fuck away from him!!”

Ben couldn’t muster up the will to care that Sam was yelling out his biggest secret for everyone to hear - they’d all be dead soon anyway.

He might have been crying; he couldn’t tell. All his brain was able to process at that moment was the pain in his face where the soldier had smacked him with the butt of his rifle, the struggle to hold his head just high enough to keep from drowning in six inches of blood and mud and shit… and disappointment.

He should have known it would end this way.

“Wenn er ein Kind ist, bin ich der Fuhrer!”

Ben’s father used to say ‘there were no children in wartime’; but God, he didn’t want to die. Not here, not like this…

The pressure against his head lifted as the Nazi crouched next to him, pulling him up by his collar.

“Bist du ein Baby? Huh? How old?”

When Ben’s answer was not forthcoming the man hoisted him to his knees and smacked him harshly across the cheek.

“S-seven-seventeen…”

The man smiled.

“Ahh, siebzehn, ein kleiner Mann…”

The adrenaline coursing through Ben left him feeling nearly numb as the soldier pulled his pistol free of its holster, waving it randomly at the captured Americans.

Their sergeant looked incensed as Ben was once again released to fall back into the mud.

“Come on you rat bastards, pick on someone your own size! Fucking Nazis.”

He spat at the ground in disgust.

A shot rang out.

The sergeant dropped to the ground, dead.

The Nazi laughed at the shocked faces of the soldiers, continuing to saunter around the circle of captives, pointing at random before shouting “BOOM!” and chuckling as they flinched.

Ben felt like his senses had both dulled down to nothing and sharpened to a needle point at the same time. He’d never seen someone die before.

He’d seen dead bodies - found his father hanging from the rafters of their shoebox apartment, stumbled over the corpses of the soldiers who’d come before him along this god forsaken strip of dirt in Tunisia; but never actually watched the life drain out of someone’s eyes.

It was… beautiful, in a morbid kind of way.

A small voice, his own; but somehow different, whispered that he wanted to see it again.

A glint in the wan sunlight caught Ben’s attention.

An intricately decorated hand-axe swung gaudily at the officer’s belt, flashing and glittering like a favorite heirloom.

For all Ben knew it might have been; but foremost in his mind was how easy it would be to reach out and pull it from the Nazi’s belt… So that’s exactly what he did.

The shock on the Nazi officers’ face might have been comical, had Ben been thinking of anything but the sensation of soft flesh and hard bone giving way under the sharpened steel of the small blade. It buried deep into the man’s ribcage, only to be pulled roughly away as the other Germans began to yell and draw their own weapons.

Without thought or care for his own safety, Ben charged at the men, instinctively knowing that in close quarters he’d have the advantage over their long rifles and still holstered pistols.

The sensation of warm blood covering his face and hands was better than the softest fur blanket to the young man, washing away the chill in his bones and igniting an inferno. He wanted more. He’d never felt anything like this. It was like every weakness and doubt and shortcoming he’s ever experienced in his life simply melted away. All that mattered was the blood, and the warmth, and the clarity.

Ben couldn’t say how much time passed as he flew through the group like a whirlwind - there was no finesse or skill to his butchery, just the sheer power behind his movements and the sharp plunge of the axe.

That didn’t matter. The blood came whether he was practiced or not.

Peripherally he was aware that his fellow soldiers had broken free and were fighting alongside him; unfathomably winning the battle after their defeat had already been pronounced.

This too, Ben found, was utterly unimportant.

He may have carried on, moving from adversary to ally in his bloodlust if one lucky Nazi hadn’t had the foresight to pull his pistol instead of his rifle - aiming and firing at the blood-covered axe-wielding American just as his attention shifted to him.

The bullet hit like a freight train, nearly knocking Ben off his feet.

The haze of his frenzy lifted as the German raised his pistol again, seeing the slug to the chest had not dropped the other.

Ben threw himself to the side, but not quick enough to completely avoid the bullet, and he couldn’t contain a cry of pain as the metal entered his leg, dropping him to the ground in agony.

“Fucking monster!!”

The Nazi looked scared as he walked up to Ben, gun still held high.

Ben smiled, teeth bloodstained and chest heaving as his own blood mingled with the deluge on the ground.

“Maybe.” Ben whispered.

A shot rang out.

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

Ben jerked awake.

He sat, wide-eyed, staring into the grey dawn light filtering into his bedroom before falling back with a groan, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

That fucking dream. Every time.

An elk bugling in the deep forest brought Ben out of his reverie.

4 AM. He definitely wouldn’t be sleeping any more today.

Rolling to his feet, he made to pull on a shirt; wincing at the sharp pain running down his side where an obstinate feller had rammed into him, throwing punches left and right until Ben had tossed him off.

The bruises were just starting to form along his ribs.

Shuffling to the kitchen Ben lit the small gas stove to heat the percolator - he’d need more than a little bit of coffee to make it through his shift at the bar today.

The air outside was crisp with the first hint of snow as he cracked a window in the room, letting the steam from the pot waft into the frosty morning.

A small heard of deer tip-toed through the edge of the woods, just close enough for the man to see the three spotted fawns trailing after one of the larger does.

Ben loved mornings like these.

A few more inhales of the sweet, cool air and he had nearly forgotten about the memory that continued to haunt his dreams.

That was then. He’d survived. No need to dwell on the past.

The timer for his percolator rung and Ben moved to pour himself a mug of the strong brew, pulling out the iron he’d need to press his work shirt before moving out onto the small wooden porch off the back of the cabin.

He closed his eyes, letting the soft, peaceful noises of the early morning wash over him.

Damn, he hadn’t been able to actually visualize Sam or… fuck, the sergeant, in years.

It seemed like a lifetime ago - back when he’d had someone other than himself to worry about.

He smiled a bit at that, wondering what Rebecca would have thought of Washington, of the bar, of Jo, of how he’d turned out…

If only she’d been able to hang on just a few years longer.

He could have taken her away from the crowded streets of New York, with the constant noise and bustle, to somewhere she could have spent her remaining time in peace.

She probably would have fought him on it. He could almost hear her now:

‘Benji, I’ve lived here for forty years, why would I leave?’

Just as stubborn on her death-bed as she had been when he was a kid…

A gunshot echoed through the trees, sending a jolt of excitement through the tall man.

Ah, hunters. Wonderful.

Grinning, Ben drained the last of his coffee before swiftly pulling his coat off of the rack by the door.

His boots crunched softly through the frosty grass as he walked to his shed, barely having to look in to locate his axe and hoist it over his shoulder.

The deer trails he knew like the back of his hand led him deeper and deeper into the woods, following the sound of the rifle as he sped up into a silent run.

Nothing like a little early morning exercise to get the blood flowing.

Ben loved mornings like these.

Superman #82 (October 1993)

REIGN OF THE SUPERMEN! The climax of this 19-part storyline, the entire "Death and Return of Superman" saga, and seven years of long-ass plotlines. And it only took this blog a mere six years and six months to get here! PREVIOUSLY: After Superman’s death, five different Supermen popped up to reclaim the mantle, some more convincingly than others. The front-runner, the Cyborg Superman, kinda ruled himself out of the competition when he nuked out a whole city and replaced it with a giant engine. Now the other would-be Supermen converge in that place...

The Last Son of Krypton/Eradicator finally arrives on Engine City, having set off from the Fortress of Solitude two weeks ago. We noted back then that he suddenly looked like an old man, but he's back to Superman's age now. If this storyline had gone on any longer, he would ended up Benjamin Buttoning himself into a grumpy, ultra-violent baby.

Superboy also flies in from Metropolis. It's the fourth time he makes the Metropolis-Coast City trip in a few days (not counting the time he got a ride on a missile), so he's gotta be pretty bored of it by now.

Steel, last seen getting crushed by some giant cogs, emerges from the bowels of Engine City with his armor in tatters but his body intact. Dude’s a tough nut to crack.

Supergirl and the powerless Man in Black continue making their way through Engine City. Supergirl's like "Wanna step out and let those of us with powers handle this one, chief?" but the Man in Black ain't having it. Wow, that's pretty heroic. Maybe... maybe he's actually the real Superman?! Nah, that's crazy.

And Green Lantern Hal Jordan is also there, because this whole issue takes place on top of the ashes of his old city and childhood memories and all. We see the end of his fight with Mongul from Green Lantern #46.

The Cyborg watches as the Super-People invade his fortress from his control room, but he's a glass half full kind of guy, so he's choosing to focus on the fact that he (apparently) gets to kill Superman again.

After the Eradicator joins the party and the Cyborg reveals his true identity, the Man in Black finds himself in the awkward position of having to team up with one of Superman’s worst villains (the one who wanted to turn Earth into Krypton) to fight a good guy driven crazy by space travel (and who once looked like Johnny-5). It's only after the Eradicator goes on a two-page exposition dump about how he brought Superman back to life that the Man in Black goes "alright, guess you're cool".

The Man in Black and the Eradicator follow the Cyborg to the center of Engine City, where a giant chunk of kryptonite powers the entire fortress. The combined powers of the Eradicator's Eradicator-ness and the Man in Black's punching (OK, mostly the first thing) seem to be winning -- but then, in a desperate move, the Cyborg shoots a blast of concentrated kryptonite at the Man in Black. The Eradicator, however, heroically jumps in front of the blast...

...which has the unexpected side effect of restoring the Man in Black's Superman powers, allowing him to dispatch the Cyborg with a swift "broosh". What's a "broosh"? You know, a "broosh":

After Supergirl uses her convenient clothes-shifting powers on the Man in Black's costume, it only takes one second of him in the classic red and blue tights to convince everyone that HOLY CRAP HE'S THE REAL SUPERMAN AND HE'S BACK FROM THE DEAD! (Side note: I like how Green Lantern goes "We'll mop up here! Not like I have anything better to do, what with all my friends being dead and stuff. Haha. I-I’m okay, seriously.")

It's him! It really is him. I knew it all along. Never doubted it.

Character-Watch:

The Eradicator is this issue's real MVP. His whole arc has been about slowly turning him from an emotionless robot into a sentient being through his interactions with people (Lois, Steel, even Loose Cannon and Guy Gardner), and it pays off when he jumps in front of that kryptonite blast yelling "I WON'T LET YOU DIE [AGAIN]!".

Also, when he tells Superman "We have always been linked, you and I", that's true. While their psychic connection influenced Superman negatively for a while (the Day of the Krypton Man saga), it looks like it also worked in the other direction and some of Superman's goodness rubbed off on him. By the way, it might be a stretch but the climactic shot of the kryptonite blast always reminded me of the Day of the Krypton Man's climactic shot, with Superman finally overcoming the Eradicator’s influence with Pa Kent's help.

Anyway, sorry, Superboy and Steel. The Eradicator had the best sacrifice scene in this storyline, hands down. Of course, they eventually brought him back again and turned him into a lapdog for the Cyborg and then Zod, but let's enjoy his dignified retirement while it lasts.

Plotline-Watch:

I'm not kidding when I say that this issue represents the convergence of seven freaking years of storylines. Let's recap (strap on, this is gonna be long):

John Byrne's Man of Steel #1 (1986) introduced Superman's birth matrix, the flying artificial womb that took him from Krypton to Earth. When young Clark sees the matrix for the first time he feels weak, because there's some kryptonite lodged into it. In Superman #1, a few months later, we find out that a crazy scientist stole the matrix and used it to build Metallo, so Superman decides to leave it suspended in orbit to prevent it from being used against him again. Three years later, the distraught mind of a disembodied astronaut called Hank Henshaw jumped into the matrix, and he made himself a tiny little spaceship from its technology, then sped off into deep space. Eventually, he went mad, hooked up with Mongul, and used the DNA information he got from the birth matrix to make himself a half-Kryptonian body. Hence: the Cyborg Superman. (As for that kryptonite rock, it ended up in Lex Luthor's hands... soon to be "hand".)

Also during Byrne's run, Superman briefly visited a "pocket" universe inhabited by a Silver Age-type Superboy, who died by the end of that storyline. Months later, the pocket Earth had turned into a hellhole thanks to three Kryptonian criminals. They too died by the end of that storyline... by Superman's hand. Feeling guilty over killing those killers, Superman exiled himself in space, was captured by Mongul's Warworld, and found an ancient egg-shaped relic created by his ancestors: the Eradicator. Superman brought the Eradicator back to Earth and it built him a nice Fortress of Solitude, but it also took over his mind and turned him into the emotionless Krypton Man -- who became an entity of its own after Superman overcame it. After Superman's death, the Fortress' robots rebooted the Eradicator so he could follow his “preserve Kryptonian life” directive and restore Superman back to life, but he got a little confused and thought HE was Superman. Hence: the Last Son of Krypton.

Another concept introduced by Byrne was the idea that Kryptonian DNA is too complex to be duplicated by Earth scientists, which led to the creation of Bizarro. Byrne's World of Krypton miniseries also established that Kryptonians used clones as spare parts to extend their lifetimes, and the conflict over clone rights literally tore the planet apart. So when Superman learned of a cloning facility near Metropolis called Project Cadmus, he immediately felt uneasy about it. After his death, Cadmus got hold of his body so they could create a replacement, but, again, you can't clone a Kryptonian... so they simply created an approximation of Superman's powers and features using human DNA. Hence: Superboy.

As for Steel, he's just Steel. Hence: Steel. Incidentally, if you’re wondering why his armor has been reduced to just some metal shorts by the end of the issue, here’s the answer. Pretty self-explanatory.

The only major plotline left dangling after this issue (aside from Dr. Stratos, of course) is Lex's own death/return/cloning misadventure, but the Super-Squad will deal with that in a big way pretty soon. Oh, and then there's the mess they left for Green Lantern, but that's another creative team's problem. (SHAMELESS PLUG: Follow my new Green Lantern '94 to '04 blog to see how that mess turned out.)

Believe it or not, there's even MORE stuff to talk about in this issue, so don’t miss the great Don Sparrow's section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

In the first place I have to say that this issue is an all-time favourite of mine, probably in my top three of this era of comics we’ve been so dutifully covering.  The excitement at my local comic shop for this issue was incredible, and already being the Superman fan that I was, I felt like I was on the ground floor. [Max: I also remember the excitement when I first saw this issue in my cousin’s hands after he showed it to me the day he bought it... then didn’t let me touch it, so I read it years later.]

We start with the cover, and I got the deluxe edition, with the chromium cover.  Back when this issue came out, I had a love/hate relationship with Image comics.  I wasn’t interested in the dark & gritty characters like Spawn and the like, and generally thought the Image books favoured flash over substance and storytelling.  BUT, man, did the colouring and paper they used at Image ever look cool!  So I was a bit torn about DC using a “gimmicky” feature like this—it looked amazing, but I also felt it was leaning a little far in the direction of sizzle over steak.  But I didn’t mind that much, since this had been such a great story to this point.  Aside from the metallic 3D look of the cover, the drawing is great, too.  It was the first look at the returned Superman in the full suit, and also with the long hair present.  DC must have thought that the long hair was a gamble on some level (even though we’d seen it for months in the actual issues) because they hid it from the covers for so long. [Max: This was also the cover they used in both the Spanish and Mexican editions I have, so that’s what I went with for the top of this post. The “normal” cover looks like a historic oddity to me.]

Inside the issue, we jump in with another splash page—there are a lot of these, and it really calls back Superman #75, as most of the pages have one main image, with a few small panels laid overtop.   This one features another interpretation of the Eradicator, with short, non-spiky hair—it’s interesting to see these characters reinterpreted week to week.  This opening page also commits the unpardonable sin of demanding that we stop reading the issue until AFTER we read Green Lantern #46.  Being a naïve 13 year old when I read this issue, I of course complied with the demands of DC editorial, and read Green Lantern first, not realizing it has a near identical plot (albeit from a different point of view), right down to the “broosh” at the end, very much spoiling what is about to come in Superman #82.  I remember being pretty steamed that my first glimpse of a returned Superman didn’t come in a Superman book.  While I appreciate the coordination, I do find the caption misleading.

Also similar to Superman #75—it’s very hard for me not to talk about every panel or page, because this whole book is just gorgeous.  The badassery from the last issue continues into this one, as Superman with his tough-guy attitude and giant gun is pretty cool.  One quibble I have with this team is that when they bury Superman’s eye’s in shadow, it can have a sinister or tired look, which I don’t think is the intention.  Some panels it’s more prominent than others, but in one panel on page 6 where it makes Superman look pretty rough, and a lot less handsome.  We get more big gun Superman later when he starts taking it to Engine City in general, knowing it is connected to the Cyborg.

The Cyborg taking different shapes is done pretty effectively here, particularly when he forms himself out of what must be a lead-like metal to accuse Superman of a bunch of nutty stuff. The reveal of the Kryptonite heart of engine city is very well done, in part because of Eradicator’s bulging red eyes.  It is a bit weird to imagine a lipless robot saying “mmm, hmm” though.

We get another great full-page splash as the Eradicator goes all-out in his effort to defeat the Cyborg.  The captions here always confused me though, where it says “(The Eradicator)  was built to kill…the other (the rocket that brought Superman to Earth, which the Cyborg used to create his new body) to bear new life.  The victor would be obvious.”  But to me, it’s not obvious.  I would think that in a Superman comic, a vessel of LIFE would be the big winner over ancient weaponry, but I think the caption intends the inverse. I guess it’s saying a gun would beat a baby crib? It’s one of those passages that sounds cool, until you think about it.  Or think about it excessively, as I clearly have. [Max: To be fair, a gun WOULD beat a baby crib. It would kick that baby crib’s ass.]

Superman’s haymaker knocking off the Cyborg’s jaw is an incredible visual, and there’s a subtle set-up for the great cape visual call-back that comes later.

The entire sequence of the Eradicator taking the blast of Kryptonite is well done, in particular the panel when we see Superman through the vanishing Eradicator.  I’m a bit confused as to just how the Kryptonite suction thing works here—the Kryptonite meteor is shrinking and shrinking, but nothing is attached to it except for that one hose.  

Jurgens and Breeding do a great job of showing the physical cost of Green Lantern going toe to toe with Mongul.  It also sets up for my all-time favourite Superboy quote, one I think might be seen on this site from time to time in meme form, “Check it out! The Lantern looks so totaled it makes me want to hurl!”.  This entire saga has been worth it, to get to that line.  Just magnificent. [Max: I think Hal went evil because of that one comment.]

The glimpse of the burnt-out husk of the Eradicator is also incredibly well drawn—and painful looking—but even by the end of this story he seems a lot more recovered.

The scene of the returned-to-full-power Superman decking the Cyborg is a stand-up-and-cheer moment, and I love the detail that Superman is holding the cape for this whole scene. It’s interesting that as the Cyborg starts to get damaged in the fight, we see how little organic material there is. Metal seems to poke through the skin on his face, as if only a thin sheet were laid over the metal.  and when Superman punches right through him, there’s really no blood or anything, just a dry, cracked crater.  I had thought, up until this issue that the cybernetic parts were beside real skin and bones (as if to replace the damaged parts of Superman’s body from his fight with Doomsday), but this issue seems to posit that he’s all robot, with only a veneer of Kryptonian flesh overtop.  

The normally merciful Superman is pretty blood-thirsty here, vibrating his arm fully in the knowledge it might kill Henshaw (who helpfully reminds us, he’s survived before).  [Max: That moment kind of rubbed me the wrong way, and I think Jurgens himself felt uneasy with it too. One of the highlights of his recent “Rebirth” run was that Superman deliberately decides to jail Hank instead of killing him to at least give him a chance to be rehabilitated, which would be cool to see happen one day.] I love the little glimpse we get of the restored, and re-costumed Superman before the full reveal, and as a character moment, I love that he would think to show gratitude for the heroes who filled in when Superman was dead.

The next few pages are pure joy, as it’s such a treat to see our Superman soaring around in the sunshine, even with the new Tarzan haircut.  It’s such a show of restraint that they didn’t pack a reunion with Lois into this issue, instead allowing a different superteam to tell that story, which very much deserves its own issue.  Overall, though, I just remember feeling such a sense of joy, and relief that Superman was back, and back to full power. [Max: SPOILERS: And then some...]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I do love this era of comics before swearing (or even censored swearing) was a thing, because they have the weirdest phrases. John Byrne would always have characters saying “blast” instead of “damn” to an absolutely ridiculous degree.  In this issue, I don’t know for sure if “crud” is a stand-in for another word, but it does strike me as downright odd for Green Lantern to use it as a noun against Mongul.  The concept of “a crud” just amuses me, though I suppose it could be meant in the same vein as “scum” or something.

Is it me, or does Jeb look like Ricardo Montalbon here? [Max: Oh crud, I forgot Jeb was in this issue! Jeb was in this issue, everyone.]

I love they don’t even give the Cyborg a moment to be cool.  Just as he’s about to reveal his true identity in a villainous speech he gets clocked by Superboy, in one of my favourite moments with the character (but not my very favourite, as we’ve seen.)  I also like the low-level burn that Henshaw assumes that Superman must already know who he is, but Superman’s like, nope.

I do like that this issue goes to great lengths to explain that Superman can’t just keep returning from the dead, even going so far as to say it would never work again.  My pet theory is that the Eradicator’s Resurrection Matrix only worked because Pa Kent’s spiritual journey in Adventures of Superman #500 really did happen. [Max: I might be misremembering, but I think the upcoming issue of Action pretty much confirms that.]

I’m glad to see him recovered, but I kinda think Eradicator spoiled the moment a little with his observation about Green Lantern.

[Max: Blast it, Sparrow! You’ve done it again!]

The Road Trip to Florida

-IT X SSTTITD crossover-

Note: Here’s some actual crossover content, since my last post on a IT x SSTTITD crossover had very little to it and therefore, disappointing. Also, I’m placing them all in 1990, everyone is the same age as they are in their respective movies. 

(Just as I was finishing this up- I finally noticed Ramón’s car has a Florida license plate- which could mean nothing, he might’ve stolen borrowed/bought a car in Florida for all we know. But since I'm taking in all the Morales crumbs they’ve dropped, Ramón is Florida Man™)

Mike mentions wanting to go to Florida and Ramón is all oh? Let's go then?? 

This calls for a rooooad triiip (listen, I know. But for Mike’s sake, it's happening.)

Mike, Beverly, Eddie and Chuck are buzzing around with where to stop on the way

They pull out a map and start marking up places

Immediately, Richie demands they see Times Square, "ol girl, Liberty" and the Empire State Building

To add to that, Ruth and Bill want to walk through Broadway

Stella, Chuck and Stan also want to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art

"So a whole day in New York."

Obviously you can't have twelve kids pile inside Ramón's car for a trip down the country like that

So they put their money together and rent out a van- making sure they've still got enough for gas and food

They spent their day in New York for sure

Right away, Auggie has a strict no-New-York-hot-dogs rule

And Eddie uses up all of his hand sanitizer in "Bacteria City"

Stella and Mike have the day scheduled down to where the group can go to every place everyone wants to see and can enjoy without chaos

They could've easily split into smaller groups, but these small town kids wanted to take it all in together- even with Chuck and Richie wearing those ridiculous I ❤ NY shirts

Actually, the only time they split up is in the art museum- Stan wants to avoid portraits altogether and he's joined by Ruth, Mike, Bill, Ramón and Stella

Mike's snapping a whole bunch of pictures of everyone the whole day

At first, Ruth hides from the camera, somewhat insecure about the fading scar on her face, but both Beverly and Stella give her some reassurance and slowly boost her confidence enough to let herself into some group pictures

They buy lunch and eat in Central Park- losing Auggie and Ben for 5 minutes before finding them in deep conversation with a tourist from France

*cue Stan and Eddie pretending to be French tourists for the rest of the day- and no, of course they're not a part of that obnoxious groupe*

Chuck spots the Central Park Carousel and makes everyone get on

He almost falls off his horse and nobody lets him forget about it for the rest of the day

They crawl walk up and down the Brooklyn Bridge- Stan and Ben pretend to be harsh architecture critics

That day it seemed like every cyclist was destined to almost run over Richie, so Ramón becomes the designated lookout for the boy- quick to pull him out of the way of annoyed New Yorkers

Unfortunately, they couldn't fit riding the Coney Island Cyclone into their schedule

"We'll go on our way back"

That night they stop at a campsite since no one wanted to sleep inside the van

Except Ruth and Eddie, she's afraid of getting bit by a spider and Eddie just refuses to sleep outside

The rest of them take out sleeping bags and settle down next to the van as Mike starts a fire

Bill suckers Stella into letting him read one of her stories out loud

But only if he reads one of his too

They all listen in, becoming paranoid of the darkness that surrounds them

Eventually they loosen up, but they still make Ruth and Eddie promise they won't drive off without them in the middle of the night

"Well if I wake up and see Bigfoot walking around- I give you all 10 seconds to get in."

For the whole trip: Auggie, Ramón, and Ruth are the designated drivers

Beverly, Mike and Stella alternate on keeping track of the map and making sure they don't pass by marked places they want to stop by

At some point, Bill swears up and down he can drive too, but they shut him down after hearing he's got about two hours worth of driving experience

When given the chance, Stan sits up front on the lookout for birds and sticks blue tabs inside his book for every East Coast bird he manages to spot

He reads off the description of every blue tab bird to Auggie, Ramón, and Ruth- comfortable enough to ramble on and on about why he finds them appealing 

With everyone else, there are discussions about the government, aliens and milk before or after cereal…

"Guys, it's only 9 a.m. and you're alrea-"

"Hey I'm just saying, milk before cereal is absolutely barbaric. Back me up, Mike."

"Nah, I'm staying out of this one."

Their second destination is the Smithsonian’s National Zoo

“That lizard right there looks like your mom.”

"Funny, I was about to say it looked like you."

"Uh, why's the tiger staring at me like that."

"I don't know, Stan. Maybe she knows you got a B minus on the Government fi- oW OW OKAY SORRY"

Afterwards, they walk around D.C.

"They say you can see the whole monument reflected if you're at Lincoln's eyes, anyone else want to climb up there?"

"I’m fine with watching you four get arrested."

They trailed behind a random evening tour group

10 minutes in, they were asked to leave for being disruptive

“It’s not like we’re that interested in that giant dick sticking out anyway.”

They stop by a diner and they all eat “like I’ve never taken you anywhere.” (-Ramón)

Richie keeps stealing Ruth’s fries, only to flick them at Eddie

Which make the two start bickering and Ruth makes Stella sit in between the two boys

An old couple at a nearby table who have been watching the group in amusement and hear about their Florida plans- advise them to stop by the Luray Caverns the next day

Seeing that it was roughly two hours west of D.C.- they agree to it

That night they settle down at another campsite, this time Auggie makes the fire and he's damn proud of it

The next day they head to the Luray Caverns

Everyone's so mesmerized by it

Richie tries scaring Eddie, saying there are ghosts in small corners

Auggie, ever being the non-believing reasonable one, assures him there's no such thing in there with them

Chuck then joins Richie on a mission to scare Auggie and Eddie

Which didn't work and only ended up making Stella paranoid 

Once they’re out, they start the 7 hour drive to Spoonauger Falls 

Beverly has silently sworn off smoking while on the trip, so when she gets the occasional urge- Ben gives her gum while Stella keeps her mind busy talking about movies they've seen 

Richie unsuccessfully tries to start an argument about Star Wars with them

Everyone else take naps on each other’s shoulders, dig into the book/comics boxes brought in by Ben and Chuck, or peek over Bill's shoulder as he draws

They also play cards- Ramón and Beverly have the most winning hands

Chuck tries card tricks on Auggie and Eddie

Auggie pulled 8 of Hearts while Eddie pulled King of Clubs

Asks "Are these your cards?" after pulling a Joker and 6 of Spades

"Sure, Chucks."

A flat tire leaves them stranded in a long empty road surrounded by trees

"See, this is how we all get murdered by some hitchhiker.”

“Oh shut up, you’re not helping.”

“Yeah, I can see it in the papers now. Twelve fools murdered on a road trip!”

“Ruth, please tell me there’s a spare...”

“Of course there is, it’s in the back. I checked it myself before leaving.”

After pulling over, everyone gets out to check the damage, which was just a nail that had torn through the rubber

As Ramon, Auggie and Bill replace the tire- Stella spots a figure walking towards them in the distance

“Uh guys, there’s someone walking over here.”

“Maybe he’s checking if we need help.”

“What if it’s Chuck’s killer hitchhiker?”

“Yeah well, I don’t like the way he’s walking.” 

The person in question began to walk faster, their arm reaching to grab the stick poking from their back and pulling out what seemed to be an axe

“OH FUCK, WE GOTTA GO.”

They all scramble inside, nearly tripping over each other

As soon as the new wheel was secured in place, Bill rushed in carrying the jack and lug wrench as Auggie clumsily put away the flat tire in the back.

Luckily, Ramón sped off right before “Mr. Axe” got as close as 20 yards

They get to the falls at night, sleeping at a nearby campsite 

Everyone was still anxious over Mr. Axe so they agreed on someone keeping watch for an hour each until morning

Which failed as soon as Bill fell asleep on his time at 3 a.m.

In the morning they walk through the trail and splash each other when they get to the water 

Chuck manages to catch a spotted salamander and chases Stella and Ruth with it

Ben and Stan sit by the bank when a Carolina Wren lands by Stan’s hand

Mike manages to get a picture of the boy’s ecstatic face, eyeing down the curious bird that walked around him and flew off to a nearby branch, already harmonizing with other birds

Auggie gets completely soaked by Richie and Beverly

The three of them chase down Ramón for laughing too hard, so now you’ve got two completely soaked bois

From there to Florida, Ramón and Auggie sleep the entire way burrito-wrapped in towels

The next morning they get to Honeymoon Island State Park, an island recommended by Ramón himself- as it’s quite close to home 

Mike is the first to get out when they reach the beach, he’s got the biggest smile just feeling the sand under his feet and runs into the waves

(For @reah22​. Set in the future of Adamare.) There are three rules to Magical Monster Trucks.

1. Nothing is off-limits when it comes to magical or mechanical modifications of the vehicles. As long is doesn’t kill anyone, you’re good.

…actually, Duke wasn’t sure about that last addition. Might just be wishful thinking on his part.

Case in point: Damian was currently yelling, “Take that, you old gargoyle!” as he fired a stun-spell ray gun at a truck that  

“They’re out. Good job, team!” Dick gave them both high-fives.  

“Two more out there,” Duke warned.

Today was ‘Teacher Throwdown Tuesday.’ Not that had helped them prepare. An advantage of wizard cloaking: You never knew who might face you. Jason did; as the headmaster, he’d decided he was impartial enough to handle sign-ups.

Duke suspected Jason wouldn’t object if some rando showed up with a truck, as long as that truck was awesome enough.

2. No magic during the fight, not even for communication.

Instead, they got some good old-fashioned muggle comms. The next message on which was: “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!”

Okay. That narrowed down who was coming at them next.

Steph and Jason, the only two muggleborns among them, had started saying that at every opportunity, claiming it was a traditional saying that dated back to the eighteenth century. Duke was pretty sure Dick had caught on. The others, maybe.  

Damian hadn’t.

“Brown has no decorum,” he seethed. “This small amusement is not worthy of a time-honored battle cry.”

Duke exchanged an amused glance with Dick. A mistake—while they were distracted, another truck sped from its hiding place behind a pile of tires and immediately covered them in a barrage of stick-to-it spells before Dick could react.

Damian’s eyes widened comically. This time Duke couldn’t blame him. “It glitters!”

“Should make it easier to hit.”  

“You haven’t landed much either!” Damian bit back.

Honestly, neither of them was having much luck. Steph and Cass had opted for small and mobile over huge and heavy, and it was paying off.

3. This ends in surrender, or not at all.

“Giving up yet, Triple D?” Steph’s voice was mocking.

Duke would flambé her for that, but the Batgirls managed to land a hit on his flamethrowers three minutes ago. (See why he had some doubts about the ‘no killing’ rule?) Instead, he was left to ruminate once more about how their team name really sounded like a bra size or a porn video. Since Dick and Damian were experts in neither of these things, Duke’s objection had been overruled.

“They’re coming up the ramp!” Dick yelled.

Duke could see it, clear as day. The girls were going to get up there, activate the floating spell Cass was famous for, the one they had named their truck for, and land right on top of them.

They were so screwed.

The noise as the Batgirl landed on top of them was deafening. And then it just stayed there. Dick tried everything, but they couldn’t get away—that thing was heavier than it looked.  

“Owned you,” Steph cooed.

“Well played,” Duke had to admit.

Honk.

“What was that?” Damian asked.

Dick frantically checked his instruments. “I don’t know, I can’t—“

Duke rolled his eyes and opened the window.

“Oh, right.” Dick joined him—not like there was much steering to be done anymore—and they stared in horror at the yellow school bus charging straight up the highest ramp.

“…does that say ‘Bad to the bone,’ or am I hallucinating?” Duke asked.

“I wish.”

There was only one person who would drive that thing.

Honk.

Steph’s cursing filled the comm line. The truck above them shook as the Batgirl rolled off in a desperate attempt to get away; then again when the bus landed right on top of them both.

Silence.

“Fuck.” Steph sounded disgusted. Cass was the one to add: “We’re stuck.”

“So are we,” sighed Dick.

“Guess what that means?” There was loud cheering over the comms, enough to tell everyone that Jason had not been alone in that truck. “We won!”

Damian grimaced. Duke, however, grinned and leaned forward to the mic. “Can you move, then?”

There was no reply at first, but they could all hear Jason revving up the truck and his wheels spinning in the air. The bus was simply too long. There was no purchase.

“Nope,” Jason finally conceded.  

“Draw?” Dick offered. Pretty ballsy of him, Duke thought. They’d been the ones who would have definitely lost.

“Yeah.” “Alright.”

The only way out was through the window, so that’s what they did.

Looking at the pile-up from the outside sure was something. No wonder the students at the stands were cheering so much. There was glitter everywhere. The whole scene looked ready to be a special exhibition at MoMA. Some indictment on modern living and Instagram culture, probably.

“Okay, kids, Miss Cain will now demonstrate the floating charm to you,” he heard Jason say. Of course this was gonna be a teaching opportunity. Duke strongly suspected the kids would float the car parts for recycling purposes next.

He stood back, content to observe. Too many cooks and all that. As he watched, at least two dozen twelve-year-olds lined up to be gently floated down the pile of car junk.  

“I see you’re having fun.”

Duke started, then smiled. “Oh, hey, Tim. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

Tim looked tired and pale, as was to be expected after a mission somewhere North, and slightly distant, as was to be expected after being away from his family, Duke thought.  

Dick had been the one to recruit him, back at school, and Duke’s first partner had been Bruce, but he’d worked with Damian and Tim often enough. They shared the ‘Defense against the Dark Arts’ position between them. Jason had wanted to make sure that his kids were taught by people who knew what was up; not some airhead with false notions about bravery and antiquated dueling procedures.

If it had the added side-effect that this was probably the best-protected school in North America, well. That was just a bonus.

They watched as Jason hoisted a kid that looked afraid onto his shoulders, jumping down with her in one fluid motion, then mimicking a horse charging at Steph until everyone was laughing.

Tim radiated fondness. “It’s good to be home.”  

Duke smiled. Yeah. Same.

DaveKat - Do I know you?

Hey y’all it’s been a hot second, trying to get back into writing for my pirates? fic and this is one of my favorite niche tropes, it’s just a lil oneshot for now but I might expand on it later if it’s something you’d want to see? Just testing the waters iGuess, any and all feedback much appreciated!!!!

———————————————————

You were in the YA romance section.

Well.

Technically it said ‘teen romance’, but you, Karkat Vantas, nearly ten sweeps old (or approximately 21 human years) and verifiably a young adult preferred to address it as such, if only in your head.

Besides, the only other person or troll in the bookshop that you could see was Kanaya, and she was sweating just as much as you looking for a trashy lesbian vampire novel.

The bell above the door rang and another group of college-age kids walked in. You didn’t recognize them. You still didn’t want them seeing you perusing teen books with a laser focus, so you shifted behind the stacks just slightly and examined the group as they noisily entered. Laughing raucously. Fucking idiots.

You came here to get away from all the noise, you couldn’t help feeling a little bitter that you and Kanaya weren’t the only ones who sought the fortitude of an old bookshop, the three humans who had walked in and now split their own ways didn’t even look like they belonged here. More like on the cover of some fashion magazine, Karkat couldn’t help but follow them with his eyes. Was it his imagination or were they...glowing?

He shook his head. Just another group of human jerks, probably. One of the girls, one with short black hair and cherry red glasses made a beeline to the recipe books, much to the apparent entertainment of the other two, as they shared a meaningful look.

The other girl turned back fondly and spared her cooking companion a fond look before she ambled off through to look at old cassettes and records. Her very pink skirt matched the very pink clips scattered haphazardly through wild, blonde hair, and she danced through the aisles to music it seemed only she could hear.

The remaining human was a guy about Karkat’s own age, messy blond hair that, unlike his companion, looked intentionally so, and darkly reflective shades perched on a strangely delicate nose, headed straight for him.

What?

No. He was headed for the comics a few stacks short. Karkat let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He turned around to look at Kanaya, she had picked up some trashy vamp novella and was perched in an overstuffed armchair in the far corner of the shop. Definitely wouldn’t be moving for a while. Karkat absentmindedly selected a book without looking at it and pretended to skim the book sleeve as he peeked through the shelves to see what shades coolkid was looking at.

Shades gingerly plucked an exceptionally old comic from the rack and something strange passed over his face. Nostalgia? Humor? Bitterness? Impossible to tell. The cover was tacky, some old, super famous comic Karkat had heard of but never bothered reading. The background was black, almost like space, but it was shattered like a prism, rainbow cracks in space and time. What was it called? Karkat wracked his brain. Homesafe? Homestruck? Homestuck. Based on mythology and the ways of the Old Church, it was supposedly a classic, although some particularly nasty New Church members had tried to get it banned in schools a few years back. They said it was nothing but, “lies and sacrilegious content, meant to rot kids’ brains out”.

Religion had never been Karkat’s thing.

Shades held up the comic to show the girl in the music section. He waved it tauntingly and she rolled her eyes in return. He set it back down and continued to search through the old comic books aimlessly.

Was he being creepy? Karkat definitely felt like he was being creepy. It was something about the asshole, he was too well dressed, but still somehow managed to look sloppy. If Karkat looked sloppy it was because he couldn’t afford to look any better. This fuckface was in a long black coat, darkwash jeans, clean red converse, and a red sweater over an untucked black button-up. And he had a long red scarf. Stupid asshole. Stupidly tall. Stupidly attractive. Stupid-

“Karkat? Are you almost done?” Kanaya materialized behind him with a respectable stack of books in her arms. “Would you like me to wait for you before I check out?”

“Um,” Karkat recovered from having had to resist the urge to leap back fifty feet. “No, yes. No. Um. I haven’t...”

He looked helplessly down at the meager pile of books he’d collected. He felt no particular attachment to any of them, or if he had when he’d pulled them he had forgotten his intrigue almost immediately.

Kanaya smiled patiently. “I will see you tomorrow for coffee as planned, yes?”

“Yes,” Karkat nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. Fucking yes. That.”

Kanaya hid a smirk as he turned to walk away before pausing. “Oh, by the way,”

“Hm?” Karkat responded distractedly as he stole a glance back toward the comic section. Shades was gone.

“Get his number, will you dear?”

Kanaya laughed and winked as Karkat fought to avoid turning bright red. Fucking figures.

Karkat sighed and looked at the pile of books at his feet. He slowly began to put them back, peering through the shelves as inconspicuously as he could. He couldn’t explain why he was so fascinated by this guy, this dumb human boy. It was more than that he seemed attractive, more than that he looked like the usual asshole Karkat liked to get his heart broken by, he seemed familiar. Like out of a dream, or a drawing. Like-

Karkat really did leap back this time. He had peered through a crack in the books and a pair of darkly reflective glass frames met him eye for eye. Fuck.

There was a wild scrambling from the other side of the bookshelf, then the human appeared at the end of the aisle and stopped in his tracks. He was breathing heavily. Or he was holding his breath? Karkat couldn’t be sure, but his heart sped up of its own accord.

Something about this human boy who stood there, stance wide, long legs planted apart, firmly. One arm reached toward the shelf as if he’d used the edge to spin around about-face, the other limp, distant, at his side. Face passive.

“Did she. Um.” His voice was crackly, rough around the edges. As if he hadn’t used it in some time. Or as if he had been crying. “Did she call you Karkat?”

Karkat blinked. “Yeah? What the fuck is it to you?”

Shades exhaled in an almost-laugh, breathy and disbelieving. He half turned around as if to say something to someone at his side, but upon realizing no one was there, spoke to himself.

“After all these years,” he muttered. “Fucking millennia. Like a bad joke.”

“Can I fucking help you?” Karkat said.

“Do you like comics?” Dave asked, taking a step closer. He pulled a shiny copy of a popular comic Karkat definitely recognized, Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.

“Not that fucking bullshit,” Karkat made a face. “If you have anything that’s actually good, then maybe.”

Shades didn’t seem particularly offended by this scathing review. Just continued toward Karkat, a small smile gracing his face. He got the sense that this was a barely contained emotion.

“You know, I really fuckin’ think I do,” Shades lifted his namesake off his nose and pushed it to the top of his head, scraping any pale hair up and out of the way. He fixed Karkat with a pair of bright red eyes. Karkat, who was no expert on humans, was fairly certain that eyes were not supposed to come in that particular shade. After all, even as a troll, his own weren’t.

Shades looked off toward his friends and gave a nod in their direction. “I’ll be seeing you around, Karkat.”

There was a sudden sound of ticking, gears turning, and then Karkat was alone in the shop.

Shades was gone, and so were his female friends. It was almost as if Karkat’s brain had missed something, skipped a step. They were there, they were gone, and his brain had blinked in the middle during the process where point A bridged to point C.

Karkat searched through every stack, as if maybe the three human strangers were all in on some elaborate prank and just really good at hiding, but it was useless. He ended up right back to where he started.

Only now, there was something on the ground where Shades had been standing. The old comic he’d been looking at earlier. Homestuck, volume I. And a note.

“yo. its not perfect obviously because what really went down was a mad shitshow, and its missing some stuff. gotta simplify if you wanna spread the word i guess. anyways, this might fill in the spaces. or at least, i really, really fucking hope it does.

- d”

Karkat looked around the shop, as if he might catch whoever was responsible. No such luck.

“What the fuck?” He whispered. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

Something to Laugh About

((welp so~ I’m pretty new to writing this kinda thing but this Concept wouldn’t leave me alone, so I decided to give it a shot and yeah, maybe someone else will also enjoy this self indulgent trash pile, idk \o/ any kind of feedback is always welcome!!))

For a dame who made, employed, lived in and was even made out of so much candy, that Baroness Von Bon Bon could be an awful sourpuss.

In fact, Beppi wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her truly smile, and it sure wasn’t for lack of trying. Nothing filled his heart with more joy than a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile - the kids whose faces lit up with excitement when he handed them another of his balloon animal menagerie, the crowds who came by his tent to watch him willingly make a fool of himself, his fellow carnival workers and isle-dwellers, he treasured every single smirk, chuckle, giggle and reluctant grimace. Way back before he’d so much as dabbed the first lick of paint on his nose, Beppi had made it his mission to bring a smile to the faces of all of Inkwell, and he was proud to say that so far he had an almost perfect track record. Almost.

The Baroness’ place was over the other side of town, but the isle was small and even she had to venture outside to peddle her wares, so Beppi and Bon Bon had crossed paths plenty. Often enough that it seemed like he’d tried everything - his best jokes, his worst jokes, the pie gag, the seltzer, the banana peel, even his killer impressions of Djimmi and Wally and Grim and anyone else he could think of - to see her lips so much as twitch, but she still just looked at him like he was a piece of taffy stuck to her shoe.

Beppi wasn’t quite as much of a fool as he acted - he knew she fancied herself above him, above all of their colourful corner of carnival. She turned her nose up at their hot dogs and candy corn, declaring that her confectioneries were made with only the finest ingredients Inkwell had to offer, and she couldn’t imagine why anyone would opt to shovel all that greasy garbage down their throat instead. But he hadn’t gotten to where he was by giving up easy - it was that dogged determination that had coaxed chuckles out of some of Inkwell’s grumpiest inhabitants, after all. And it would’ve been too tragic just to let them all carry on their way, stomping through town so sour-faced: he couldn’t imagine anything worse than a life of stony silence. Laughter was Beppi’s lifeblood, long before it had been his living; it filled him up, made him feel big and shiny and swell like a balloon (metaphorically and sometimes literally) until he could just about burst, in the best way. He wanted - no, he needed to spread the joy all over town, all over Inkwell, every way he knew how, and remain hopeful that it’d prove just as infectious as it was irresistible, even for the sourest of pusses.

He was optimistic for another day of sunshine and smiles, during a brief break in the afternoon’s frivolities to relax under the shade of one of the colourful parasols in the square. Beppi had been in the middle of telling Djimmi all about yesterday’s unfortunate yet hilarious incident involving an overzealous balloon giraffe and a fruit hat when Bon Bon shimmied into view.

Without missing a beat, he broke off into a comical double take, and then figured he might just as well fall out of his chair in shock that the esteemed Baroness had seen fit to grace them with her presence. Djimmi just shook his head fondly, long used to his friend’s antics; Bon Bon opted to ignore Beppi entirely as she and Djimmi exchanged polite greetings, simply manoeuvre around him like a colourful puddle as she took the chair on the other side.

Typically tough crowd, but Beppi was prepared for that - and he had a good feeling about today, the fact that Bon Bon had willingly descended from her fancy castle to mingle with the common folk suggesting she might be in a good mood, or at least not quite as much of a sourball as usual. If he could pull just the right rib-tickler out of his hat, maybe she’d even -

Hot dawg - Beppi had to glance up to check if someone hadn’t lobbed a lightbulb right over his head as he scrambled back upright, because had he just been hit with a doozy of an idea.

“Hey, hey, Bonnie.” Beppi leaned in closer to her, his usual ear-to-ear grin turning just a tad more mischievous than usual as he nudged at her elbow. “Gotta question for ya.”

Bon Bon turned to him with a long-suffering sigh, her eyebrows knitting together as though it pained her even to look at him. “What do you want? And don’t call me that.”

“My sincerest of apologies, Baroness.” Beppi just managed to resist putting on his snootiest voice in response as he bowed and tipped his hat - he was happy to humour her this time, since her hoity-toity act would only make his eventual victory all the sweeter. “Aaaanyway. How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”

“I neither know, not care to -“

“Ten-tickles!” he popped the punchline gleefully, sliding an arm around her waist and squeezing before she could get away. “One!” He felt her jump a little at the unexpected contact, but no giggles followed; undeterred, he kept it up, searching for a sweet spot with a few pokes to her ribs. “Two!” Still nothing: Bon Bon was just staring at him like he was doing something utterly ridiculous - which, in all (fun)fairness, was kinda what he was always doing. But this was getting weird, and not the fun kind - was this woman made of rock candy? “Three..?” Faltering for just a moment, he scribbled his fingers across her midsection and finally she reacted - but not how Beppi had hoped, as she seized his wrist and pushed him roughly away.

“Get off! What in the world do you think you’re…” Bon Bon’s big doe eyes widened even further, her eyebrows shooting up as realisation dawned. “Oh, I see - you were trying to tickle me, weren’t you?” Before Beppi could protest his innocence, she scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls. “Tough luck, Chuckles - you won’t get me to crack with such a cheap trick. Hmm, but I wonder…” Something almost in the vicinity of a smile slowly spread across her face, and it was more than a little unsettling, sharp as the glimmer of an idea in her eye as she glanced Beppi up and down, drumming her dainty fingers on the tabletop, and - whoops, he might’ve bitten off a tad more than he could chew after all.  “Perhaps someone else around here just might?”

“Ah - heh…” A nervous chuckle escaped as Beppi edged slowly away from her, until his back bumped against Djimmi’s broad chest and he pounced on the potential distraction. “Oooh - you talking about Djimbo here? He’s plenty ticklish - just watch this…”

Before he could attack, though, two strong arms shot out and grasped his noodly ones. Beppi let out an outraged squawk of protest as Djimmi effortlessly held him captive. “Hey - what gives…?”

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Djimmi replied with a shrug and such a grand-piano grin Beppi was surprised his pants didn’t burst into flame, “but, as karma dictates, what goes around…”

“Well said.” Bon Bon nodded, her gaze positively predatory now as it lingered on Beppi’s now-compromising position; a bundle of nervous butterflies fluttered in his belly as she took a few steps closer. “I’m glad to hear someone around here has some respect - putting your greasy paws all over royalty like that? Why, I could have you executed. But…” She paused, actually licking her candy-heart lips as they twisted into a sadistic smirk, and with the slightest wiggle of her fingers Beppi knew he was done for. “I can think of something more fun.”

“N-nohohow, Bonnie, no need to be too hasteeheeheehee…!” Giggles spilled out the moment she spidered her fingers up his sides, barely touching him yet somehow unbearable all at once.

“Isn’t it funny,” Bon Bon purred, her sugary teasing sing-song only intensifying the torture, “how one who so desperately chases the laughter of others can be so easily reduced to such a giggly mess himself?” As if to prove her point, she dug right into his vulnerable underarms, and Beppi’s laughter pitched; with Djimmi holding him just a couple inches off the ground, he could do nothing but cackle helplessly. “It’s kind of cute, though. I might even prefer you like this, laughing too much to prattle on with your pitiful excuse for comedy.”

Beppi might’ve felt himself blushing even redder under his makeup at that last remark, if he could focus on anything other than her wicked fingers as they danced down across his ribs. “We may even have a new attraction!” she continued cheerfully, pausing to squeeze at his hips a few times; he could feel the tips of her nails through her silky gloves and his thin suit, digging in just enough to drive Beppi loopy as the teasing circles she was now tracing around his stomach. “Forget the dunk tank - how many coins for a go on this silly, terribly ticklish clown?”

“Bohohohon, nohoho - nohohot there!”

“Hmm? Not here? But that’s right where the target is!” Bon Bon just sped up, drawing faster and smaller circles until without any warning, she dug one of her devious digits right into his bellybutton; Beppi howled, writhing and bucking uselessly in Djimmi’s iron grip in a vain attempt to escape. “Oooh, look at that, I believe I just hit the bullseye! Where’s my prize?”

She wiggled away until Beppi was honking and wheezing like old Charlie, unable to even beg her for mercy or at least to think of his makeup, which was bound to be in ruins from the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. So this was how it ended - tickled to death by a candy lady. Well, he did always say to always leave ‘em laughing…

“Alright, now, Baroness, I think he’s learned his lesson,” Djimmi’s deep voice intoned, as he dropped Beppi back on his feet, Bon Bon finally ceased her attack - sure, she’d listen to him - and he gasped in relief, gulping in sweet lungfuls of air as he flopped back into Djimmi’s arms in a giggly heap, before remembering that he was a dirty traitor. “We don’t want the poor fella to literally laugh his head off.” He grinned, apparently unconcerned by Beppi’s best wounded glare. “It’s been known to happen.”

“That,” Beppi eventually managed to say, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them, “was cruel. And unusual.”

Bon Bon tittered, smoothing down her dress. “Oh dear, funny boy, was I too much for you? Can’t even take what you attempt to dish out? Well, I’d best be taking a powder anyway - time is candy, fellas.” She caught Beppi’s eye as she rose to her feet and shot him a sly wink, and his heart might’ve done a tiny somersault when she fluttered her fingers at them. “Let’s do this again sometime, shall we?”

She turned to saunter back off to her candy land, leaving Beppi and Djimmi to sit/float under the parasol in silence. Well, he’d better get used to it, because Beppi was definitely never speaking to him again. Not a word, not for the rest of their days, no matter how much he begged or -

“Djimbo.” Whoopsie - he’d just have to ignore him forever later, as he was already leaning over to nudge him repeatedly in the side. “D’ja-hear that? Bonnie thinks I’m cute.”

Djimmi chuckled indulgently, taking a puff of his pipe. “Perhaps you should be more careful how you address the Baroness,” he pointed out, eyes twinkling with gentle amusement, “lest you find yourself in another such ticklish predicament.”

Beppi shuddered dramatically, but his goofy grin only grew wider - because, well, Bon Bon had been smiling when she’d been tickling him to pieces. More than he’d ever seen her before, so maybe his plan hadn’t backfired quite as spectacularly as it might seem.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind letting her get the last laugh every once in a while, after all.

(yoonseok) - trust my heart when it beats for you

ao3: (x)

Summary: Jung Hoseok has had an awkward Thing for Min Yoongi for four years of his school life. He is certain that the only thing that gets in the way of them and everlasting love is the fact that Min Yoongi doesn't know he exists, but that all changes due to one drunken text message: a pick-up line. Ready to flee to another country under a false identity in mortification, he finds himself ruining their blossoming friendship and confessing when Yoongi asks why Hoseok had tried to flirt with him. However, things take a turn after his confession when Yoongi starts to (awkwardly) flirt back.

Pairings: Yoonseok, Taekook and Namjin

Chapters: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12)

Chapter Thirteen -  look at me like you used to. i miss it. i miss you

Yoongi hadn’t expected a response and he didn’t receive one. Morning dawned bright and early on Monday morning which contrasted heavily with the trepidation churning inside of his stomach. The first thing he did was check his phone as he did every other morning but his routine was dismantled when seeing no messages from Hoseok fill up his notification wall.

He shouldn’t have been so affected, he knew this, but he was. Hoseok had managed to break in and occupy a space in his heart in barely a span of three weeks. He wasn’t sure if he was just easy to break as a person or if he was simply made to be broken by Hoseok. It was just cruel that the only person who could make him feel something more, supply him with a whole new range of emotions, was the one who he had to push away.

Even Jeongguk hadn’t messaged him, but Namjoon had. ‘Hey, how’d it go yesterday?’ He couldn’t bring himself to reply.

He got ready for school and took the bus as usual, blocking out the ruckus of the children in the years below him with his music, music that he and Hoseok had shared a mutual interest in. Yoongi had to shake himself, bringing him away from his thoughts by looking at his phone and finally replying to Namjoon, he was talking about Hoseok as if he were dead which was definitely not the case when he would be seeing Hoseok in first lesson.

Oh crap. A double period alone with Hoseok was the last thing that he needed right now. Due to his sudden state of panic his composed message to Namjoon came out a little more desperate than he had wanted. ‘awful. Can you kill me please so I don’t have to suffer two hours with H?’

He received a reply almost immediately. He climbed down from the bus before opening the message, keeping his head down as he walked into school. ‘whoa, what happened? Did he do something?’

Yeah, Yoongi thought to himself, he made me realise how crappy of a person I am. He didn’t dare type this out, though, for he knew that he would be on the receiving end of a pep talk. He detoured and took a route away from the basketball court as he knew that was where Hoseok met up with his friends at the beginning of school, and more recently at breaks and lunch, too.

‘It wasn’t him, it was me. It’s easier just to forget about all the romantic stuff, it’s too much pressure. I messaged him this and he didn’t reply and I have 2 hours of History with him in the morning.’

Namjoon must have been waiting on the chat for a response because he messaged back straightaway. ‘I’m almost there. Meet you at the bench around the back?’ And so he did, Namjoon approached him a few minutes afterwards. Yoongi didn’t think he had ever felt so much relief; Namjoon was advice and support personified, and that was all he needed right now.

“So, tell me, what’s brought this on?” Namjoon asked once he had sat down. “Last week you were all about this, talking to Hoseok all the time to see if you felt that way about him, and now you meet up and suddenly nothing? What happened?” How could Yoongi have forgotten? Along with support and advice came an intrinsic sense of knowing that Yoongi had something to hide.

Yoongi shrugged, trying to meet Namjoon’s searching eyes. “Nothing, really. It’s just... I don’t know, I don’t really know anything about Hoseok.” That part wasn’t true at all, Hoseok had been more than happy to spill his entire life story to Yoongi. Yoongi now knew all of the spats between Hoseok and Taehyung that Hoseok could recall, and also precious memories of his childhood, like how his mum had purchased an assortment of stuffed toys for him but then found out they would be worth a lot in the years to come so he was banned from touching them. “I figured that even if I date Hoseok, we wouldn’t last; Hoseok will find someone else.”

Namjoon surveyed him before turning away to look at the vast field of grass in front of them. “How do you know that?” He asked softly. “I don’t believe that in the last week you’ve learnt nothing about Hoseok. If that were true then he wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he obviously does seeing as you asked me to kill you so you don’t have to face him.” He cracked a smile, Yoongi stared intently at the ground, hating that Namjoon could see right through him. “So, please, tell me what happened.”

Yoongi exhaled harshly through his nose, so harshly that it made his eyes water. “He kissed me,” he muttered. Namjoon nodded as if he had foresaw this event, which wouldn’t be particularly surprising. “Afterwards I knew that I wouldn’t be enough for him, he’d move on easily, so I told him that we should stick to being friends. It’s simpler that way.”

“Simpler for who?” Namjoon turned on him, making him feel trapped. His chest restricted and it was difficult to draw breath. “I don’t see how this could be easier for you. I know you, Yoongs. You’re in deep and I can tell that Hoseok’s made an impression on you. If you really felt only friendship for him, you wouldn’t have let him kiss you. You’re a good guy, too good to lead someone on which – without giving him the real reason – it looks like you have.”

A surge of self-loathing ran through him, twisting his insides and mangling them together. It was typical of him to do something which he thought to be right only to have it blow up in his face. He had undoubtedly hurt Hoseok with his selfish actions, allowing Hoseok to kiss him and then to rip himself away, lying through his teeth and saying that Hoseok meant nothing to him, nothing more than a friend.

Yoongi valued friendship, of course he did. Friendship was an important part of his life after he had learnt that he couldn’t breeze through life solo, he needed companionship. He was happy to have Hoseok as a friend, blessed even, but he wanted something more. He wanted heated glances, a singular touch or a glimpse of revealed skin to ignite a passion in his veins, he wanted to be looked at like nothing could replace him.

He wanted to be Hoseok’s and he wanted Hoseok to be his.

This revelation should have been startling, but he wasn’t the least bit shocked. This conclusion must have been thrumming under his skin, one with his flesh and blood.

“Oh, I fucked up,” he admitted.

Namjoon chuckled and shook his head. “You did what you thought was right.”

“Yeah, which was wrong.” He ran his hands over his face. “Tell me what to do. How do I fix this?”

“Do you know what you want?” Namjoon asked him in a serious tone.

“Yes.” Hoseok, he added silently. “How do I tell him?” Now time was creeping forwards, he was avidly aware of how close he was to being near Hoseok again. That thought alone was enough to thrust his heart into a frenzy.

“That’s up to you. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to write a script,” Namjoon lightened the mood slightly. “You just need to express yourself clearly. You’re good at writing your thoughts out, but you’re also good at free-styling. You should be fine.” And with those words of wisdom, the school bell rang, initiating the jittering of Yoongi’s nerves.

“Thank you,” he said just as Jeongguk jogged over to them, his school bag rocking dangerously on his shoulder and a grin practically bursting off of his face.

“Guys, guys, I have so much to tell you!”

“You’re gonna have to save it, I’m afraid,” Namjoon stood up and grinned. “You can tell us at break, I’m thinking that Yoongi will have some news for us by then.”

Jeongguk shot him a curious glance but apparently he was too elevated by his own news, most certainly about Taehyung, to inquire as to what Namjoon was talking about.

Registration seemed to drag on but the last few minutes sped by and suddenly Yoongi was signing in for History and had positioned himself in the library in the same seat where Hoseok had invited him out after school. It seemed like much more than a week had passed and he felt like he had aged considerably since then, or perhaps it was because he was devoid of Hoseok’s youthful energy.

Hoseok took a considerably long time to show his face at the library but when he did Yoongi wished that he hadn’t made an appearance at all. A paranoid fear took hold of him, gripping at his lungs causing his breathing to be limited. He kept his eyes glued to the keyboard when he sensed a figure place itself onto the couch. The only thing he expected was to hear the pounding of his rapid heartbeat and the stilted typing of the keys, he did not plan on Hoseok clearing his throat and addressing him.

“So, Yoongi.” Hoseok’s voice did not sound calm at all, if anything it sounded slightly hysterical, with his voice breaking at the end of his speech. Yoongi steeled himself before flicking his eyes over to Hoseok. He was smiling. Painfully. Almost comically. “I just want to tell you that I received your message and it was awfully rude of me not to reply.”

Yoongi felt his eye twitch. ‘Awfully rude’? Was the Hoseok in front of him from another dimension where it was the norm to use speech from the 18th century? “It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to,” he said honestly, hoping that upon hearing him speak Hoseok would drop the terrifyingly wide and unnatural smile that littered his face. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that-” Before he even got the chance to pluck the next sentence from his heart and breathe it into the air, Hoseok interrupted him.

“It’s okay, Yoongi. I understand! You said it yourself, you don’t like me like that, and if I weren’t too respect that, I would be an idiot. So, from now on, there’s to be no more flirting, or kissing, or anything like that, okay?” Now Hoseok didn’t look as comical, Yoongi saw through it to find that he looked dejected. Yoongi was sure that his heart had just folded inside out as an agonising fire spread throughout his chest as he saw the turmoil in the darks of Hoseok’s eyes.

“I’ll get used to it, I’ll get over it! So, I wanted to tell you that I’m more than happy to be friends, after all, we have to spend a whole year together!” Hoseok sounded convinced. He sounded fine with the fact that their ambiguous relationship would be labelled as friends and nothing more, even though he had been the one to tell Yoongi that he liked him, told him that he was beautiful. It hurt. He hurt.

Hoseok offered him his hand, Yoongi stared down at it listlessly. Hoseok’s words were still resonating in his ears, scraping against his ear canal.

“You haven’t changed your mind again, have you?” Hoseok laughed, but it was nothing like his usual laugh which was loud and filled with good feeling. This laugh was stale, cold and cruel. Just like the air of the bus stop in which he had ripped himself away from Hoseok. “Friends?”

He blinked away the tears forming in his eyes, blurring his vision. Hoseok’s hands were soft in his, and cold, it was as if he was still standing at the bus stop and Yoongi were in the protective layer of the bus, feeling trapped by his own self-loathing.

“Friends.”

If Hoseok heard the wary defeat of Yoongi’s voice, he didn’t comment on it. Hoseok snatched his hand away once it had felt Yoongi’s warmth.

Yoongi found himself wishing for the cold that Hoseok carried, just to have a part of him.

Lyric Comic Q&A

So it turns out when you work on a project for half a year, you get a lot of Thoughts and want to express them whether people are actually curious or not. Without further ado, your un-requested Birdmen Lyric Comic Q&A

(Warning: I’m long winded)

*Why a Lyric Comic?

Dude, lyric comics are cool. I’ve always been fascinated by the beautiful, multifaceted artistic experience they provide, because of my love for music and art. Furthermore, I am often plagued by cinematic trapped in my head, spurred by the movement and lyrics of my favorite songs. Since I have no means or experience in the animation category (which would free these phantoms from my head) the lyric comic was a godsend of a medium for this inspired idea of mine. Kiki-kit of the Gravity Falls fandom and Tides-miraculous’ lyric comic in the Miraculous Ladybug are my main inspirations, I’ve adored their sense of motion and emotional savviness. It’s quite the powerful medium.

It’s also a good medium for me personally. I am a ‘looper’ with my music, allowing me to listen to something over and over without tiring. This is useful in the drafting stages! I loved the challenge (though I definitely didn’t anticipate it’d take this long).

*Why this song?

“Out of Mind” was one of those songs that spoke to me, in an overly cathartic, heart-yearning-- almost funnily sardonic ways. Birdmen being on the brain, I started to easily see how much the singers voice reflected that bombastic frustration our Eishi is so known for. The Pre-Chorus “Are you kidding me?” speaks to me the most, reminding me of his cry of frustration during his first blackout, screaming against his fate as he fell from the sky (this exact image did not make the final cut in the end, but I certainly vied for it until other themes overtook it-- let’s face it, there are many screaming Eishi’s to choose from).

This period of time between Takayama’s disappearance and the inevitable reunion is super intriguing to me. Eishi’s in the role of the heartbroken singer, hopelessly betrayed and unable to get over the good thing they had.

*Breakdown the story:

The progression goes like this:

Eishi’s loneliness consumes the first verse, Takayama’s empty seat, Eishi standing alone… all the while peppered with Takayama’s broken promise, which culminates with Eishi’s defiant Death Tweet. The Refrain then serves as these hallmark moments that define them. This is what they had. Every rescue, every proclamation or venomous defying of fate-- it’s what made them. And you’d have to be out of your mind to think that these moments could be forgotten.

Verse 2 is all about that shift in Eishi to follow him. Wistful memories drive Eishi as he chooses to leave and depart from everything he knows, just to get him back. Meanwhile, that opinion of Takayama is still weighed down by that grating irritation (like hell he’s in touch reality, how could he do this?) culminating to his call for him in the Himalayas. The Refrain fires again with the same point as the last but this time I tried to go for a more fervent angle, some of the scenes actually focus on Takayama’s feelings for Eishi and ultimately the pull they have towards each other.

The Bridge is where things get desperate. The moments in the manga where Eishi is in physical pain because of the Whiteout shake me so much. It reminds me of a straight up panic attack. I let this crescendo with the music, making the black void swallow the chaos in a quick snap. Building to the final chorus.

The whiteout is special because Eishi both yearns after this figment emotionally (his friendship with Takayama) and intellectually (what the hell is it and what does it mean?). It represents his unique position in the realm of the story being able to see it, but it ultimately captures the almost divine force behind the relationship of Eishi and Takayama. The outro then brings us back to Eishi failed call at the Himalaya’s, the whiteout ripping him up and forcing Takayama to save him. All the while calling back to that first interaction between them. A mysterious moment that obviously held more weight than any world shaking rescue. And I cap it off with a warmer depiction of their reunion.

*Are you shipping in this comic?

Despite the romantic song, my affections for the pairing, and any other subtext I’ve provided, I went in with the project with a platonic angle. Like I’m not lying. I’m on the ace spectrum or whatever so I kind of interpret every strong bond in the same realm. So that means, if you think it’s a romantic interpretation-- then you’re right. If you think it’s not, you’re also right. Love comes in many forms. Have fun kids.

*What was your process?

Storyboarding

Listen over and over and figure out where to phrase the panels. I then divided the lyrics up accordingly in a draft and reviewed the pacing over and over again. Does it flow? How many words would comfortably fit with each panel?

Determined the thematic arc. At this point I already had a few anchoring moments so I wrote a description of the panel in the draft. I went with the formula of Verses= move the ideas, Refrain= emotional accents, and the Bridge is like… the climax with an epilogue of an outro. This was tricky step. I debated a lot of ideas and some lyrics didn’t feel like a good fit until I really sat on it for a while.

Fill in the draft. This is where I sketch the general shape of panels. This is also where I look at the gestalt of the thing and make sure the composition is easy on the eyes. I tried to make it dynamic and zig-zaggy so as not to be boring. This is the step where one gets really excited about the project. Cause it’s no longer trapped in your head.

Sketching

Gathered references. Surfed the web, made some myself.

Made time to sketch, I did a lot of them at my summer job, made sure to draw about 2 or 3 a day. I had the time then because it was before I took on my day job. I was very surprised to find that I rarely went back to edit a picture or dispose of a draft. I went through with the mantra that I was going to finish the picture no matter what.

Stayed disciplined with said time. I would not let myself take a break from drawing because half the success came from the fact that I was on a roll.

When I finished them I then went through the process of scanning them (my scanner broke between the first 20 panels so RIP)

Coloring Stage

...Good lord. This is where I probably went the most wrong. Make sure you have a good process in place before starting out this stage.  I was not one to digital art much as of late so my familiarity with my program was lackluster (and it also is literally the worst program  in the world), and my laptop couldn’t handle more than 10 panels. So hurray for a very desperate fix. I did everything from my brothers computer, in his room. Sometimes at terrible hours because that's the only time I’m home.

Color planning. I rushed this process but I pulled up the textures and color pallets and reference images from internet searches and stock piled them. While planning I approximated the overall ‘tone’ of each pane; (is it a dark shade, a light shade, blue, or red in hue…) and then I adjusted that so the colors didn’t repeat or blend unless the panels where connected in the same scene. There was a lot of problem solving in the actual coloring so some of this was not as smooth and I paid for it later.

Sketch Editing. I was able to go back in, move around things and edit certain aspects of the sketch without compromising the entire work. This was a life saver.

Actually coloring. Because I color sketches it’s actually a painstaking process where I can’t use a wand or a fill. I’m not familiar with certain masking and coloring methods that would have sped the process up and I wanted to be consistent. This would take 3 to 5 hours a panel which I would do in small bursts.

Type-setting

Deciding font. I was hunting around for a good font for ages until I just decided… to use my own handwriting. This meant that I had to makes sure my tablet pressure specs were up to date and I had to practice my style. It’s not perfect but its cool.

Apply font to panel. There were moments when I literally said ‘screw it’ and left my handwriting a little more sloppy than standard.

Consultation. I worked with my graphic designer friend on improving the placement of text and the color choices. This was an interesting step she is a saint.

Finalize

Every single panel is extremely large. I had to resize each one. Before this I had many tests in the drafts to see how certain sizes would load or format.

*Will you make another?

Probably. Like, there is nothing more satisfying than getting something stuck in your head out of it. I have a lot of tunes I am fond of but barely any qualify for lyric comics (need to have a good pace, easy to latch on musical phrases, thematic content that works etc.) The fandom is important too. Now that I think about it I have storyboards for an old DCMK ‘lyric comic’ idea to Imogen Heap’s “A-ha” (it was like some hidden dark side!au shit I still come back to it). I can’t let my interest wan or it straight up dies. Birdmen is a really unique series for me because its held on for a remarkable amount of time and strongly at that.

Fun Facts:

I colored a total 77 panels, 11 of which were scraped versions of the core 66 because perfectionist tendencies.

It took me 3 months to sketch all the panels out, sometimes drawing 3 a day. I would often cradle my sleeping kitten while I drew.

Panel 54-- the final chorus, whiteout splash page-- took three days to draw. At first it was two pages taped together, then it was three. I had my friend mend the images together into a massive pic for me to color, then break it apart for blog distribution. The full version is used in her video edit of the lyric comic.

I didn’t use pressure sensitivity on my tablet until I got to the last chunk. RIP

It usually took me over a day to do one picture.

I do not have a computer in my room that utilizes the art program I need. I literally did every panel after #10 in my brothers room. Sometimes hella late at night too. Props to my generous brother, he tells me he likes the company.

I took a few notable breaks. All of Inktober was used on the art challenge. The weeks leading up to Birdmen Week. And at least half of the Christmas season was spent on coloring hiatus.

I like adding a ring around the pupils of the seraph eyes. This is not canon, but an error that I really liked. You can see it as a sort of glow.

I am having my friend edit the panels into a video for your convenience. I have no idea how long it will take but I’m tired.

13 March 1992

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with N” “Nose?” “How could I see my nose, it’s pitch black” I didn’t answer. “…” “I don’t know.” “The answer’s nothing. I can see nothing, you idiot.” We had been held up in the back seat on what felt like the thousandth hour of a cross country road trip to hell. It was the start of Spring Break and dad had thought that instead of spending the long holiday at home, it would be better for us to go and visit our gramma in New Jersey. I’ve never been much of a fan, especially as the other option was us going to Epcot like everyone else had. “Get a couple of hotdogs in you and you’ll forget all about Florida.” Dad promised on multiple occasions. I wouldn’t. As previously stated, my best friend Duncan had already gloated about his family having already gotten their tickets and how they would be staying for the entire week, kicking around Horizons and World of Motion. “I’ll take pictures for you.” He said as we waited for the bus. “Why?” I asked, “you know I’ll be there.” I replied. And that was the beginning of having to keep up with a lie. “Where are you staying?” He asked “The Yacht Club.” I said coolly. “We should meet up then.” He said “Actually, we’re going to go drive to see my aunt Carol first. She lives out in Port Charlotte” He didn’t believe me, which was understandable as I was lying. Not about aunt Carol, but about going to see her. When I attempted to convince my parents that going to Epcot would be educational, I was met with all of the ways that it would not only not be educational, but exactly how it would be far too expensive. I sulked up to the point that we started packing the car and then that sulking became pure anger for the situation. Outside, the sky had gone from burnt orange to inky black. The only thing visible for miles was whatever was in the range of the headlights. 10:32 glared back at me in dull green light from the dashboard. Was it only ten? No longer on a road, we were on a tunnel of pure, inescapable darkness. We hadn’t even seen any other cars in what felt like ages. The miles and miles of road went from the familiar stand-alone stores like Kmart to the altogether alien of an Al’s Grocers or Mica’s Pizzas. London Calling warbled meekly through the speakers as we sped through the wind whipped darkness. Dad considered himself a rebel, but I’ve never seen a punk who couldn’t make it through Cujo without flinching. “Where are we?” I asked, peering through the window. It had only gotten darker out and the once visible outline of the trees began to blend into the background, making it seem more and more like something from a storybook. “We’re nearly there.” Dad answered, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Just…sit back.” Part of me felt on edge, the endless hours of being cooped up in the backseat had finally started eating into me. “I need batteries” I replied, only to have it come out as more of a whine than anything else. “Why do you need batteries?” Dad asked, his voice rising slightly. “These are dead” I replied, flicking the switch from on to off and back again. Mom sighed. “I thought we told you to pack extra” Mom shot “Where’s your bag?” She turned her head to look at me or the void space where a dark green JanSport might be, had I bothered to place it into the car. Racking my brain, I was only able to come to one conclusion. “I…forgot it.” I muttered. I knew where it was, clear as day. It was still on the living room couch, stuffed with batteries, comics, and a flashlight for reading. I had snuck a roll of Oreo’s in one of the side pockets, stuffing them neatly in a roll of socks. I knew what was coming next “You have to be more careful, bud.” Dad said, “you’re nearly a teenager.” Technically, I had packed it. I had just forgotten to bring it. I wouldn’t say that though. She answered with her usual, emphatic “hmpf” and that was that. She turned around to face the abyss in front of her. The car fell silent again as some song about a stalker hit its peak. We drove, no longer playing the kinds of games that were meant to pass time, but actually just wasted it, the shadowy outline of everything slowly becoming hypnotically metronomic. “That was Rockwell’s ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’, and if you’re hearing this, you are officially up past your bedtime.” The voice on the radio spoke. It was another hour or so before I was jostled awake by the car coming to an abrupt stop. Outside, large plastic letters advertised “Gas and Sip” on which the G-I-P seemed to have long gone out, so the place was literally called the asS diner. The parking lot was dotted with 18-wheelers and cargo trucks, all of whose decals had faded away, so all that was really distinguishable about them were the bottom portion of what could’ve been a diamond or a triangle or…maybe it was an M. “Go get you and your brother something to eat.” Dad said. He handed Maya a handful of wadded up ones “And put ten on pump three.” “Can I keep the change?” Maya asked Dad gave her a wary look before turning back to the car and starting to take the gas cap off. “Come on, loser.” Maya grabbed me by the sleeve of my shirt and we walked quietly towards the diner. Inside, the halogen lights flickered and dimmed at every turn. The tic-tac linoleum floors held the same stickiness as every movie theatre floor I had ever seen, pulling at my shoes with every step. Wh-uick Wh-uick Wh-uick We made it to the counter, where a lady in a grease splattered apron stood watching the matchbox tv that hung in the corner. David Letterman was talking to Bruce Willis and Demi Moore about their dogs and the lady at the counter found it to be the most hilarious thing “What’ll it be?” She asked, not turning to look at us. “Do you have chicken nuggets?” I asked “We are not getting chicken nuggets.” Maya said, her voice firm. “I want chicken nuggets.” I replied Annoyed, the waitress, who’s name tag read “Ann” tapped the counter with the edge of her pen where a scrap of paper had been tapped down at its edges. Ass only served three things. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers, and fries. “We’ll have four cheese burgers…with four Cokes” Maya said, “and can you put ten on pump three?” She slid the money across the counter. The waitress, who’s name tag read “Ann,” looked harshly at us both as if we were being interrogated before taking the money and giving Maya her change. “Four burgers with cheese.” She shouted through a pass-through in the wall. The face of a man wedged itself into view before letting out what I assume was a grunt of understanding before it disappeared again. “Find a table.” Maya said before tossing the placard to me. “Where’re you going?” I questioned “The restroom.” She replied, “just go and wait for the food.” With that, she turned and disappeared down the hall. I found a space near one of the oversized windows and pulled my Gameboy out of my jacket pocket in the hopes that it might have magically recharged itself in the time I left it to sit. It hadn’t. A clock hung on the wall, its occasional tick drowning out Letterman. 12:03 shown in eerily slanted letters that looked like they had been painted on. The line-up of the Late-Night show in the diner consisted of an elderly couple eating pie, a younger couple, also eating pie, two truckers who looked comically like what you might expect a trucker to look like, and a guy who looked like he’d been pulled out of an episode of COPS; large, bulging eyes, weird hair, covered in dirt. He kept fidgeting for no reason, his feet tapping against the bottom of the stool like a rabbit’s foot. He wore the puffiest, heaviest coat I’ve ever seen, even though it was crazy hot outside, even for summer. I tried to not think about it, focusing solely on the space where someone had carved their initials on the diner wall, above a jukebox that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. ZK Wuz Here The waitress, whose name tag read “Ann” slid a tray of burgers onto the table before setting the drinks out. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until right up to this point. The burgers at asS tasted like burgers. Nothing made them one way or another the best thing that I have ever eaten. The bread was great, but the ketchup was watery. The cheese was melty, but the meat was dry. At 12:03 in the morning, food is food. Hastily, before Maya had come back, I started to devour the burger I claimed, tearing clean through the wrapper and scarfing greedily at it. I didn’t look up until I heard someone slide into the booth across from me. Half expecting Maya to be looking at me, disappointment clear on her face, I was surprised to find the guy who looked like he was from an episode of COPS sitting across from me. It wasn’t until he was this close that I could fully appreciate just how uncomical and awkward his appearance was. His eyes didn’t just bulge out of his head, they hung from it. They looked like those googly eyes you’d be forced to put on something like a clothes pin or a cotton ball to give it human-like features so that someone might say in passing, “this isn’t a cotton ball, this is a goddamn snowman. You get an A in art class, Kandinsky.” His hair was a mop of blond that had been streaked with blues and greens and barrettes and clips of every colour. His face was covered in literal, not figurative, sharpie drawings. “How’re you?” He asked, his voice a snake-like whisper. I didn’t answer, choosing to stare at him, mouth open, food half chewed. “What you playin’?” He asked “Listen,” I said with a start, “I don’t know you, but please leave me alone.” He stared at me for a moment, his creepy eyes looking as if they’d tilt out of his head and smash on the table, sending bits of creepy eye goo everywhere. It’d probably smell like bubble-gum and ass and for good measure, it’d be acidic enough to burn straight through the table, straight down to the basement. “I’m just asking a simple question.” He said, “no need to freak out.” “I’m playing Batman” I said. “Sweet,” He hissed, “can I play?” “Batteries are dead.” I answered resignedly He extended his hand as if to say, “let me see,” before sliding it away from me. “What I always find,” he said, removing the battery cover, “is that patience is a virtue.” He fiddled around with the batteries, moving them into different places. He took a paperclip from his pocket and wedge it in for good measure, before turning the entire thing over and staring at it like a proud father might look at their kid riding a bike and flipped the switch to ON. With that, the game sprung to life. “Good as new.” He said, smiling as if he’d just pulled off the greatest magic trick before returning the game, “So, where are you from?” “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” I said “But, I’m not a stranger,” he said, “we were just talking. I fixed your game.” “That was more of a nicety.” “A nicety?” He asked another chuckle finding its way out of his mouth, “how old are you.” I looked around, hoping that Maya might be walking out of the restroom, her usual surly big sister face on. She’d see the creeper, cross the room, and stab him in the side of the head with one of her bony ass fingers, say something bad ass and then he’d leave. What I did find was that on the outside of what I’m assuming is the only restroom’s door, a notice to “wash your damn hands” had been taped. I could feel a little piece of me die. “Listen, I just want to be left alone, yeah?” “I just wanted to tal-” He started. My armpits started to tingle, and I could tell that on some level I was close to vomiting or crying or both and then I felt the part of me that wanted nothing more than to walk back to the car, climb into the backseat, and go back home. And so, I started to cry. He stared at me for a moment before laughing to himself. He raised his hands in defeat and slowly stood before walking out of the diner. Even though I couldn’t see him, part of me could feel him staring in through the windows, his eerily large eyes boring into me. “Why are you crying?” A voice asked I looked up to see Maya standing next to me, her glasses in her hands. “Just tired.” I said She whispered something that sounded exactly like, “you a fucking bitch” “Where are mom and dad?” She asked without taking her eyes off the space directly behind me. “They haven’t come in yet.” I said, my mouth still full of burger. “Ellie, where’s the car?” She asked I turned to find the space by the gas pumps void of anyone, especially not a station wagon with a bunch of luggage strapped to the roof. “Shit.” I muttered as I pushed past Maya. We ran through the double doors and into the night. The air was sharp and musty, the taste of dirt and the moments just before rain caked itself thick on everything. “What the hell.” Maya asked as she too looked around, confused. I could feel my heart in my throat, goosebumps crept across my arm and neck and I immediately felt as if I was going to be sick. We stood outside, looking up and down the road for any sign of anything, but there was nothing. No cars. No lights. No sound of something far off in the distance. Nothing.