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merrysithmas · 8 months

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spock & jim factbook part II

-jim is very forthright and honest with his feelings because he was lied to as a child (birthdays, holidays, ceremonies, and special occasions - dad will be there this time, he promises), spock is reserved and aloof because the truth always seemed like a threat (dad will be there. he promises.)

-jim's mother, winona, used to call her youngest son "captain" as in, "okay captain kirk whatever you say," with the fondest wink, as he'd pop off with the most random facts and excitable ideas for adventure, a regular whiz kid, practically bouncing at her side while they walked up and down the fields checking the growth status of the Federation crops that she, an agricultural engineering science officer, worked on when they visited developing colonies -- after she died on Tarsus, blamed for the famine by the colony's defacto leader, jim was never the same. at his father's side, and in his mother's shadow, he turned inward to his books, stiff nods & blurred pages burying a heart aching with injustice. shakespeare fell away to starfleet code, the kid fell away to the cadet.

-spock and amanda have always been close - what spock doesn't know is the amount of medical experimentation she underwent to conceive spock. until his birth, no vulcan-human hybrids had survived & the process was exploratory at best. hormonal injections, uterine implantation, dna samples, invasive procedures, swallowed embarrasment, public scrutiny and scorn, threats daily from radicalized humans and vulcans alike, medical files "leaked" by alleged friends to publications, and an agonizing labor on a foreign planet which she vowed to call home -- surrounded by as many physicians who saw she and her child as odd scientific curiosities, specimen to observe, rather than people.

-thirteen year old jim had been wrapped up in Federation shock blankets, with the other surviving 8 children from the Tarsus massacre, surrounded by doting medical staff in Starfleet blues and whites. lights fading in and out, rescue teams, noise muddled. the ash of the slain colonists covered the ground like soot - and he couldnt tell the difference between their remains and the blotchy pale fungal spores which destroyed the once flourishing fields of Tarsus. he had been thinking - snow, it looks like snow - and still now he hates winter, hates the cold.

-sam hates how jim avoids family functions at the holidays - why? it's fun! snow flurries, the nephews, the gifts, the decorations, the whole shebang. he and aurelan invite jim every year, but jim is always off on a mission. when he does show he's with another one of his "revolving door partners", sometimes Carol once or twice. he's sullen and somber or testy and competitive - typical Jim. always making a headache of everything.

-nine year old spock gets lost once in the wastelands of the Shi'al province - he had chased I-Chaya out of the open veranda of another one of Vulcan's socialite homes. T'ana, the elderly matron of the honored house, had watched as Spock and his pet unknowingly disappeared into the distant thornfields - saying nothing. humans and vulcans? it was not right. everyone knew it. the logical was irrefutable. to dilute the races is to spell the eventual degredation of vulcan society, one that by Surak, they fought for with every cell in their expansive minds. and should they be better for Spock's loss? then so be it. spock is lost for a whole day, nearly dies from dehydration and exposure. when he is rescued by Vulcan wilderness agents who happened across him, he is brought up to the house covered in burns and thorns, enshrouded in cooling cloths. T'ana makes a show of gratefulness, puts a warm palm on his shoulder - ensuring Spock is in safe hands until his mother arrives.

-michael doesn't understand why Spock hates the Thanar Sea. why? it's everything! the whipping winds across the turquoise waters surrounded by towering peaks of red rock. a resevoir, an oasis, much beloved by Vulcan elite and the masses, a small reprieve from the unrelenting glare of their desert homeworld. Spock sits quietly on the beach, shaded by the reflective sails scattered across the sand for comfort. he closes his eyes in the sun and tries not to think about how it burns, Michael shoving his shoulder, a poke like a thorn, lighten up Spock. lighten up Spock.

-jim sits alone in the mess hall, sometimes food makes him sick. he hates watching other people eat. something about it making him nauseous. but he sits there all the same - making a show of it. happy birthday! happy birthday jimmy! all of the sudden it's Gary and Ben, boisterous and offensively loud, beaming grins, setting down a blazing cake in front of him. he laughs - of course. and his friends make a show of standing on the tables, forcing the crowd into song, and the lab technician Carol slides in across from him - a sharp smile even hotter than the burning candles aimed right in his direction. hey birthday boy. Gary slips out a flask of Romulan, makes a big deal of how he had to pull strings to get this stuff, how can Jim sit here with a stack of books on his birthday? they all laugh. eat up, Professor Kirk, it's your birthday. they swallow down the cake, messy drunken frosting laughter, and end up at a dive bar, a pub, another bar. Gary and Ben have to drag themselves down the barrack halls in the small hours and Carol kisses him, unexpectedly, with a razor sharp want before turning away. Jim closes the door behind him. Finds he is leaning against it as if he needs something to hold him up. something not right. he feels sick again, but it isn't in his stomach. he stumbles to the bathroom, shoves a finger down his throat, and vomits up everything he ate, everything he drank, even the taste of that kiss.

-spock whips the electronic stylus across the room and it explodes with a spark as it hits the wall. an unbecoming show of emotion. studying for his Advanced Quantum Superposition Physics final should be easy. it's all easy for spock. but he's tired, tired because of another Ambassador's dinner the other night, putting on the dollhouse show of his perfect Vulcan family next to his mother, father, Michael, T'Pring, and the curtained space where Sybok should be, declared erased. a reminder should spock ever forget. and now the words on his study PADD keep warping, something familiar and simple becoming incomprehensible and foreign. no, not now. not now when he needs to focus the most. he looks at himself in the mirror across his room, and for an instant swears his ears look different too - snubbed and alien. he brings a hand up to touch them, nearly sneers at his reflection but even that would be an admission of guilt. he looks back to the tablets, his migraine, his exhaustion. but he can feel his reflection like another person across the room -- and it occcurs to him that maybe his mind is not playing tricks on him. it is not L'tak Terai. it is him, incomprehensible and foreign, shape-shifting and unreadable. all of it simply an extension of being Spock.

-Jim sits in the observation deck, head filled with memories of his crew on the Farragut before the incident - trying to forget things he remembers. Spock is there too, on the other side of the dark and soundproof room, a straight-backed figment. he is thinking of red angels and a fading voice - trying to remember things he forgets. it's nearly an hour until Jim realizes someone else is there, across the long expanse in the quiet. Spock looks over, as if the same thought occured to him when he picks up on the sounds of Jim's movement. their eyes meet in the silence, and jim, of course jim, nods his head in the slightest questioning manner. an invitation. Spock stares for a moment - the world on pause in the space between them - before he stands, a long shadow under a sea of stars. settling down beside the Commander he exhales, the stiff-backed posture sinking finally. as if he can't keep it up anymore. jim's lips are pressed tight together, a recognition of the feeling, and he falls back against the bench as well. their shoulders barely touch.

the stars are scattered above and around them like gleaming jewels and the room is pitch black. their chins are tipped up and both gaze, motionless, amazed. atoms in nebulae swirling together to create new worlds.

staring out, both are silent and reverant like children at an altar.

jim breathes out, spock breathes in, jim breathes out, spock breathes in.

perhaps another work of atomic magic.

another lucky strike or miracle.

#jim kirk #strange new worlds #spock #james t kirk #spirk #star trek

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do-not-starve180 · 2 years

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You wonder how don’t starve characters feel to hug? Here’s a headcanon list about it that i made a long while ago

Wilson At first it's awkward and hesitant, though the more you do it the more tender and nice his hugs feel, not too tight yet not loose, just the right amount of hug.

Willow Her hugs feel slightly tight, but still very cosy. You might get some ashes and soot stains on yourself, and you might get the scent of charcoal on you, but it's a very nice hug.

Wolfgang His hugs are Tight and Mighty, of course not spine crushing, but they can range from "i'm trying to hug you tight while also not snapping you in half" to "i'm excited and nearly forgot that my hugs are strong and you're having trouble breathing-"

Wendy Her hugs aren't very tight and pretty slow, but you can tell that she likes hugs.

WX-78 They don't engage in hugging that much, if you manage to get them into a hug then it'd just be them stiffly holding you not sure what to do. May smell of old pennies

Wickerbottom Grandma Hugs, Grandma Hugs, Grandma Hugs, especially if you're asking for one or are giving her one, her hugs can be very caring and tender. You might get that "grandma clothes" smell after but it's more comforting than inconvenient in any way.

Woodie His hugs are strong, and super cuddly, but also slightly itchy coming from his beard and probably pine needle covered clothes. Might smell of pine too.

Wes Listen this skinny clown has very nice hugs, they're like wilson except he's much, much more open to give people hugs if needed and they're so filled with care, and expressive if that makes sense. Smells slightly of rubber.

Maxwell Stiff, awkward, but lowkey quickly gives in and embraces the hugs while he can, you might smell either smoke or roses-

Wigfrid Her hugs are passionate, tight, though can be pretty tender if the situation calls for it, though she’s usually a "sling my arm on your shoulder" kinda gal.

Webber Little dude gives the best and happiest hugs, decently tight and filled with care.

Warly Another really good contender in the "best hugs" category, they can be slow and caring to tight and passionate, dude is such a nice hugger, you might get a slight scent of either grandma clothes or something he cooked that day.

Wormwood Would probably feel odd considering how bumpy he is, and the gem on his chest, and the fact he has plant textures, but his hugs are very nicely done, and you can just feel that he really enjoys them from how nicely tight they are, you might even smell of flowers after.

Winona Pretty tight and caring, though like wigfrid she's more of a shoulder pat or a hair ruffle woman, and kinda only gives hugs to those she's real familiar with.

Wortox He probably wont be able to fully hold/touch you back, but he's very nice to hug as he's fluffy and you can tell he likes being embraced, though you may have some red fur shedded onto you.

Wurt Slimy, kinda wet, though she likes hugs and will do so very tightly, you'd probably smell of fish for a while.

Walter Very nice, decently tight hugs, though they probably don't last long because he's on the go a lot, you might get some dog fur on you.

Wanda Very rarely does she have the time for a long hug, often it’s just an arm sling or a half hug, but when she does give a decently long hug it’s almost as good as Wickerbottom’s.

#long post #don't starve #Don't Starve Together #dst #headcanons #not tagging everyone lmao

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commic-jester · 2 years

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i need to look like 90s winona ryder but also sadie sink in fear street pt 2 but also whatever the hell wilbur soot has goin on

SAME

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abiggaynerd · 3 years

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Light in the night

Another fanfic of @quetzalcoatlzz ‘s western au comic, link here if you would rather read it on AO3, there is a link here

Charlie looked out her window from her bed. It was clear out, and she could see the moon. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. She could not sleep.

It was silent.

She closed her eyes. It had been a long day. One of her girls had gotten sick, and she had had to contact Maxwell’s new boytoy and have him take care of her. She would be fine, the doctor had assured, but Charlie couldn’t help worrying.

On top of that, a letter had come from her parents.

Charlie’s family was never rich, but she was still sheltered. Her older sister and her parents had worked extremely hard to help her become a proper lady. They had been thrilled she had secured such a wealthy man. After the... incident, she had promised her parents they would marry when they reached Constant, ignoring their protests that traveling with a man she was not married too would be scandalous. She felt terrible for deceiving them, but she could not tell them the truth- she was not a pampered mistress of the Carter ranch, but Madame of a whorehouse. This was not at all what they had wanted for her.

The only one who knew the truth- about her and Maxwell’s... preferences, about the broken off engagement, all of it- was her dear sister Winona. Winona understood everything- Charlie knew that the relationship with the female friend Winona was living with was not exactly chaste. Winona had urged her to tell their parents, at least about the broken off engagement, if nothing else, but Charlie still couldn’t work up the courage to tell them. In her (extremely rare) visits home, Maxwell would even come with her and lie. She was jealous of the close and open relationship he had with his family- they knew of their broken engagement, and the reasons, and had accepted it. Darling Wendy still called her Aunt, when she saw her, though.

She looked at the unopened letter on her nightstand. Every time she got one, she was terrified they had found out- if they heard about everything...

It would be better for her mental state to open it, but she found she could not. The letter opener lay on top of it, taunting her.

THONK

Charlie jumped wildly and yelped as someone banged into her window.

“CHARLIE!! YOU AWAKE?”

Charlie rolled her eyes as she calmed down. She opened the window. “How could I not be, after that racket?”

Willow grinned. “Can I come in?” Charlie nodded, and Willow began to try to get in through the window.

“Not through the window! Through the door! Honestly, Willow, it’s like you’re a secret lover trying to catch a moment alone with your beloved without alerting her parents.”

“I am,” Willow said cheerfully. “Except the parents part.”

“Exactly, which is why you can come through the door. This is my house.”

Willow grumbled, but went to the door to be let in. Charlie lit a candle, put on a robe, and walked through the rooms to get to the back door.

“Kiss?” Willow asked, taking off her hat. She helpfully pointed at her lips to indicate where they were.

“Very well,” Charlie said. She leaned over and pecked Willow on the lips, but before she could pull away, Willow deepened the kiss and put her hand on the back on Charlie’s head. Charlie relaxed into it. Being with Willow calmed her spirits.

Charlie pulled away when it became apparent Willow had no problem having sex right where they were. “Come along, dear.”

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” Willow remarked, scampering after Charlie. “Just, incredibly cold. I’ve never seen it get this bad, really. You might freeze to death.”

Willow cut in front of Charlie to open her bedroom door for her. Charlie smiled. “If you’re asking if you can make a fire in my room, you may.”

“Yess,” Willow said, no regard for her noise level. She took Charlie’s candle and began fussing with the fireplace. It really had grown slightly chilly with the window open. Charlie closed it, as well as the curtains.

“Where is Bernie?” Charlie asked, taking off her robe and climbing back into bed.

“Maxwell has nice stables,” Willow said.

“You walked all the way here from Maxy’s stables?? Why Willow, you must be exhausted!”

“Any amount of exhaustion is worth it if I can inconvenience Maxwell,” Willow said. “Besides, he’s got great food for the horses. Bernie likes it there.”

“Do you need food? A drink?”

“I just need you,” Willow said, about to climb on Charlie’s bed.

“Absolutely not! No, Willow, if you want to get on my bed with my good linens, you’re going to take a bath first.”

Willow grimaced. “Really? Do I have to?”

“Yes! But here, don’t make that face. I’ll wash you myself.”

“...Fine.”

“Come, help me set up the tub.”

Having Willow to help lug around the heavy tub and buckets of water made the whole experience much faster. Willow was much stronger than Charlie, and had the added bonus of “liked to show off.”

“Alright,” Charlie said. “Get in.”

Willow seemed to have forgotten the bath was for her. She frowned. “What if I washed you instead?”

“You don’t have to sleep with me, you know,” Charlie teased. “You can sleep on my floor. I can find a blanket.”

Willow threw back her head and groaned. “FINE.” She threw off her clothes. Charlie watched appreciatively.

Willow was not what most people considered attractive for a woman, but Charlie didn’t hold much stock in their opinions. Willow was toned, from hours of manual labor and horseback riding. She wore no corset, but instead wore nothing but men’s clothes. Her breasts, unlike Charlie’s, were small enough to need no support. She was thin, but strong. Her beautiful black hair was thick and shiny, if you ignored the layers of soot and dirt.

“At least it’s hot,” Willow said, stepping in.

“Just below boiling, just how you like it,” Charlie said. She had a rag, and used a bit of her soap on it. Rose scented. Willow had admitted a while back that she liked smelling of Charlie’s soap.

Willow seemed to be enjoying the heat, now she was actually in it. Charlie smiled, and took her hand. The nails were cut short, but caked with dirt. She began scrubbing.

The water became murky as Charlie cleaned Willow.

“You must have half the dust in Texas on you,” Charlie said.

“Sometimes I roll in the dirt,” Willow said.

Willow was practically boneless from Charlie’s rhythmic, gentle and careful cleaning; she now looked like an entirely different person. It was almost done, all that was necessary now was to rinse Willow’s hair.

She unbraided the braids, running her fingers through it. The cloud of dust made her sneeze.

“My hair too? Really?”

“I’ll brush your hair after,” Charlie soothed. “Give you a nice scalp massage.”

Charlie had to rinse the hair five times before she was certain all the grime was out of the hair.

“Alright, all done,” Charlie said. Willow immediately bolted out of the tub, getting water everywhere.

Willow dried herself with a towel, then rummaged in Charlie’s drawers to find the clothes Charlie kept for her. She pulled out a nightgown and put it on.

“Sit on the floor in front of me,” Charlie instructed. Willow complied. Charlie began to brush the hair.

“You have beautiful hair,” Charlie said.

“It doesn’t really do anything I want it to,” Willow said. “Always slips out of the braids! So irritating. I don’t know how fancy ladies like you keep your hair in those crazy styles all the time.”

“Part of it is not rolling in dirt, dear.”

“Well, I guess I’m never going to be able to do a fancy smancy hairstyle then.��

“You never were going to in the first place.”

“Ah! True.”

Willow settled against Charlie’s legs. Charlie began to massage Willow’s scalp.

“That’s nice,” sighed Willow. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I missed you a lot.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“AGES.” Willows groaned. “You know Wilson- that doctor- he’s living with Maxwell now? He only comes to town for work. Goes back at night.”

“Mr. Higgsbury is truly living with him? Maxy must be very fond of him.”

“Why can’t I live with you,” Willow complained. “Why does that awful man get nice things and I, objectively the best person ever, do not?”

“Am I not a nice thing?”

“You’re the BEST THING!”

Charlie chuckled. “You’re the best thing to me too.” She kissed her head. “I love you.”

“If I wasn’t a wanted criminal I would be... Your housewife.”

Charlie laughed. “You? A housewife? In what world?”

“Well, I suppose I could be your bodyguard and scare away men who bother your girls.”

“That would be nice.”

Willow pulled away and turned around.

“You’re nice. Want me to make you feel nice too?”

Charlie nodded. Willow beamed.

“Nothing too much tonight, though,” Charlie said. “I’m tired. We can do more tomorrow.”

“Alright!”

The sex was calm, and not rushed, but Charlie finished rather quickly.

She breathed heavily for a few moments before speaking.

“Honestly, you devious thing, where did you even learn that?”

“I like to put things in my mouth.” Willow was on top of her now, and Charlie kissed her. They kissed passionately for a moment, until Willow pulled back.

“Let’s go to sleep. Did you have a long day?”

“Yes,” Charlie sighed. “But I feel better with you here.”

They climbed until the covers. Charlie turned and saw the letter on the nightstand.

“What’s wrong?”

“A letter from my parents.”

“Want me to kill them for you?”

“No,” Charlie snorted. “You can’t kill all of my problems.”

“I can try.”

Charlie looked at it for a moment longer, before sitting back up and opening it. She smiled at Willow- her simply being there gave her enough courage to open the letter.

She hesitantly read it.

“Dearest Charlie,

We miss you terribly! Our neighbors have just had a baby girl, and she reminds us so much of you when you were her age. You were so small and perfect. We thought to ourselves, no matter what happens, we will love this child with all our hearts, and support her in all things.

We hope you and your husband create a little miracle of your own very soon.

All our love,

Mother and Father.”

Charlie set down the letter. Her anxiety was eased a bit, but she stared pensively into the fire.

“Willow, I think it may be time I told them the truth.”

Willow pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll be with you whether they accept it or not. Don’t worry.”

“I love you,” said Charlie.

“I love you too.”

Charlie fell asleep quickly held in Willow’s arms.

#charllow #ds #Ds western au #bluh bluh

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mothden · 3 years

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The Catacomb Scryers pack: A decently sized pack, reasonable, most of the members are just the offspring of Winona and Apollo mirroring real life wolves. The only exceptions are Bitsy and Soot, but they are the exceptions and not the rule. Even though they surround themselves with supernatural anomalies most of their behavior is grounded in reality. Somewhat.

Wayfarers Pride: Huge. I keep forgetting these lions names yet I struggle to chase any. Barely follow real lions in nature since some of the cubs aren’t even Catapa’s. My current and previous king have been hyperactive himbos and soon it’ll be three in a row.

#lioden #wolvden #wolvblr #lioblr #Catacomb Scryers Pack #wayfarers pride #pet browser sim #I love them both

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yergink · 4 years

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Bravery and a Bowline Ch. 2

Heavier on the fluff this time around! Also a bit longer than last chapter at 4.6k words.

First Chapter

Next Chapter

Crossposted to Ao3

Summary: Walter learns a bit about the other people on the island. Meanwhile, the kids decide to amuse themselves the best way kids know how.

They’re out gathering charcoal one day and Walter has a particular thought on his mind.

By now, his stay on this island the others call “the Constant” has reached a whopping ten days, and in that time, he’s been doing his best to be of help around camp.

For instance, he’d been helping Webber tend to the farms. Walter didn’t mind the dirt and muck staining his clothes, and he’d gone on a field trip to a farm for school once, during which he’d been paying a lot of attention, so he was sure he could help. They’d packed seeds into the ground with manure and mud, and to Walter’s surprise, the crops grew alarmingly quickly. Webber seemed to enjoy the company as well, chatting away about the things he liked as they worked. Walter’s found out they both have a similar penchant for bugs.

He’d been helping Wendy as well, and her biggest chore was tending to the rabbit traps spread amidst the plains. She showed him how to weave them and how to set them above the rabbits’ dens. That was where his help had ended, though. Walter tried to help her collect the traps at the end of the day, but he’d ended up feeling so bad for the rabbits that he’d ended up letting one go and Wendy said she’d handle it after that.

Still, Walter wants to be as helpful as he can, which is why he’d volunteered to help Willow gather fuel without realizing what exactly that would entail until. And then, he was standing in front of a forest ablaze, eyes wide as he watched Willow clap excitedly until the burn died down. When he’d piped up about fire safety, she’d just waved him off and reassured that this was a “controlled burn.” Walter didn’t think that was true, but he bit back his objections.

Now, amidst the scorched trees, he watches Willow heft her axe over her shoulder and asks, “You said there were other people on the island, right?” She pauses, adjusting her angle.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. There are. What about it?”

She swings the blade at the trunk of a freshly charred tree, and it crumbles under the force. Walter gets about, kneeling to gather the fallen pieces of charcoal and packing them away in his backpack. Woby, well-fed and in her large form, lies on her back in the sunlight just outside the forest.

Walter fidgets, rubbing his soot-stained fingers together. “Can I meet them?”

Willow snorts. She’s leaned down now, helping gather the pieces as well, and she stuffs the last charred branch away and straightens up. “When they decide to show up to our base, then sure. I’m not supposed to let any of the kids wander around.” She approaches the next tree, and before she can even regain the grip on her axe, Walter zips around it, clasping his hands together and putting on his best pout. His mom always told him he could convince the moon to fall with that face.

He’s not certain it’s going to be enough, but it does give Willow pause. “Stop using little kid powers on me, it isn’t gonna work.”

Walter pouts further, blinking a few times to make it really dramatic. His eyes water a little bit.

Willow makes a show of not looking at him, but after she cracks down the tree and sees him still waiting expectantly, her resolve seems to falter. She sighs. “Listen, I can’t really take a break to give you a whole tour of everyone’s camps, but I can tell you about the rest of them at least.”

“That works!” Walter chirps.

Her axe fells another tree. “So, I’ve mentioned Wilson before, right? He’s like, a scientist or whatever, which is just a codeword for ‘huge nerd’ if you ask me.”

Walter personally finds science rather enjoyable, so he just gives a small hum at that. “What kind of science?”

She makes a vague hand gesture. “He’s never really specific about it, to be honest. But he’s sort of a doctor. Or, he used to be, I think. Before we got here. And he used to be really stuck-up about it, too, thinking he was all smarter than the rest of us.”

“But not anymore?”

“I mean…” she trails off. “I think it was mostly just him being defensive. When it comes down to it, he’s really sweet, even if he is an idiot sometimes.” She turns, moving towards the next blackened trunk, but not before Walter catches the half-smile on her face, a look that seems uncharacteristically soft for Willow. She clears her throat. “Anyway. Ms. Wickerbottom also stays at the eastern camp with the kids. She can be a bit strict, but she’s pretty nice. She’s kind of like everyone’s grandma. You’ll probably get along with her pretty well, spouting off facts the way you do.”

They keep gathering, circling the edge of the forest line. In between felling trees, Willow’s counting off people on her fingers. “There’s Winona. She’s real spunky, and smart to boot. And there’s Mr. Wolfgang who comes off really intimidating, but he’s a sweetheart under all that muscle. He gives the best piggyback rides. And there’s Wigfrid--she can be a bit intense, but she isn't too bad. And--”

“Hey, Willow?” Walter interrupts. He feels like he’s back home trying to memorize plant names, and he wishes he had a notepad. “Maybe I’ll remember them better if I actually meet them.”

She laughs. “Sure.”

The sky grays out a bit by the time they finish hacking down trees and collecting the charcoal. The sight of incoming rain makes Willow anxious, and she gestures for them to begin the trek back to camp. The two of them walk side by side, Woby shuffling along quietly behind them. Walter shifts his hands up the backpack straps while they walk, getting a better hold on the heavy load. Despite intending to shelve the topic of the other people on the island, he can’t quite stop thinking about it.

Cautiously, he asks, “So, how many people are here in total?”

Willow hums in thought. “I think with you we’re up to a whole seventeen.”

Seventeen people. It’s a bit difficult for Walter to comprehend. Not the number itself, mind you, but that so many people would have been lost here and had yet to find a way home. It’s worrying, although Walter doesn’t want to linger on it for too long. If he’s honest, the biggest concern he has is that this is going to make him get sick of camping.

...He just hopes his mom isn’t worrying too much.

After they return to camp and unpack the charcoal into the boxes by the fire, he notices Willow keep glancing fretfully at the clouded sky, and she juts her thumb towards the tent, saying that she’s going to take a nap before nightfall.

Walter nods, of course, fully intending to stay in camp as well, although as afternoon sets in and the promise of rain is still unfulfilled, he finds himself growing bored. He sits by the smoldering ashes of the firepit, tossing a stick across the length of camp for a now-small Woby to fetch, although it looks like even she is getting tired of doing so.

She drops the stick at his feet and whines, headbutting his arm when Walter reaches to throw it again. He lets the stick fall and scratches behind her ears. “You’re bored too, aren’t you,” he mumbles, and Woby barks in agreement. She darts away from him abruptly, pointing her nose towards the gate and running back and forth between it and where Walter is sitting.

He perks up a bit. “You wanna go on a walk?”

She barks. Walter stands, glancing back towards the tent, listening to Willow’s snores gently emanating from it, and then to the sky, weighing the risks. Then, he carefully unlatches the gate and slips out without looking back.

Together, he and Woby meander through the plains a bit. The air here doesn’t smell like the air back home; it’s got a sense of danger on it, not to mention the heavy smell of monster blood that Walter hasn’t entirely grown accustomed to. Still, there is still the thrill of taking it all in. Nature is nature, and Walter has learned to appreciate that. He even has a badge for it.

The tall straw-like grass begins to give way into forest, and he’s wandered back into the midst of the deciduous trees, where he first met Wendy. As autumn has gone on, more and more of the trees have gone bare, and with the clouded sky the forest has a much eerier atmosphere than usual. Woby sniffs out mushrooms for him to pick, particularly the spongy green ones that tend to sprout in the evening.

He’s just crouched down behind a few bushes to dig up another one when he pauses, the sound of voices brushing by on the wind.

There are several. One of them is high, an echoey sort of trill that he recognizes as Wendy immediately. There’s also that haunting wispy sort of noise that Wendy’s sister Abigail always makes. She doesn’t speak with words the way Wendy does, and Wendy’s the only one who can understand her, but she’s a good translator. Walter thinks he and Abigail have become pretty good friends, even if he was a bit creeped out by her at first.

Then, he hears a third voice, one that’s unfamiliar. Woby starts growling, a low, threatening rumble that doesn’t sound right coming from her small body. Walter shushes her, going still to try and hear what was going on.

The unfamiliar voice is talking. It’s a deep, smooth cadence, and it makes Walter think of that old ragtime tune that had played on the radio that brought him here.

“--struck with a bout of insomnia and was coming by for some assistance,” the voice says.

“Out of nowhere?” Wendy asks.

“I believe it has to do with that ridiculous robot screeching up a storm every night just over the river.”

Walter pushes aside the lower branches of the bush to get a better view. He sees Wendy, standing by a nearby pond with an older looking man in a sharp suit. Immediately, he’s a bit suspicious. The man is tall, and he all but towers over Wendy, leaning slightly down towards her as they talk. Walter feels Woby, still rumbling with a quiet growl beside him as he looks on.

He watches Wendy shake her head. “I’m afraid Ms. Wickerbottom is currently absent from camp. Both she and Mr. Higgsbury embarked to the underground nearly a fortnight ago. Only Ms. Willow is there right now.”

The man scoffs. “They left you in the care of the firestarter? I wouldn’t trust that woman to look after a goldfish, much less a child.”

“To be fair, uncle, it would be extremely difficult to burn a goldfish.”

Walter looks to Woby, who cocks her head in what seems like an equal amount of confusion. “Uncle” ?

The two conversing fall into a lull of silence. The man clears his throat.

“...And you’re sure you won’t reconsider staying at my camp?” he asks. There’s a hesitation behind his words, an uncertainty that marrs his otherwise smooth, charismatic tone, roughening it around the edges.

“I do not feel comfortable leaving the camp at this time,” Wendy says after a moment’s thought. “And, in fairness, I believe Ms. Willow to be a good caretaker. You needn’t worry.”

The man coughs. “Right.” He glances backwards. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

A peal of thunder rumbles across the sky, and Wendy murmurs, “May you stay well,” as the man leaves. She watches him leave with that odd sort of stillness of hers, like a statue in the forest. A few leaves fall, sticking in her hair, though she does not move until the man has entirely vanished from view. It’s only then that Walter makes a move.

“Wendy!” he calls, shaking himself out of the bushes. “Who was that?”

Wendy pauses, glancing to Abigail, then back at him. “You were eavesdropping,” she frowns.

“Kinda,” Walter admits. “So who was that?”

With some trepidation, she says, “That was our”--she indicates to herself and Abigail with a nod--”Uncle Maxwell. He camps by the rock fields.”

Woby barks, and Walter looks down to see that she’s glaring in the direction the man left, her hackles raised and tail angled in alert. He frowns. “Woby stop, that’s not nice.”

Usually, a command like that would be enough to calm her, but she growls again, low and threatening, pawing at the ground like she’s about to run off after him.

“Woby, what’s wrong with you?” Walter exclaims, swooping to pick her up before she has a chance to take off. The dog squirms in his arms, and he struggles to keep his hold on her, her back paws digging into his stomach as he tries to get her to still.

“She probably senses Their presence in him” Wendy suggests, her head tilted sideways as she watches him grapple.

He rests a hand on Woby’s head, scratching in the space between the bumps of her horns as her growls begin to taper off. “What do you mean?”

One of her hands reaches for the flower clipped in her hair--a nervous habit. “I forgot that you don’t know.” Upon seeing her sister hesitate, Abigail floats closer, whispering in that airy, incomprehensible tone. It seems to help, because even as Wendy looks away, she keeps talking.

“My uncle was the one who brought many of us here,” she explains. “And even while he has lost his crown of shadows, there are many who have continued to forego forgiveness.”

“Oh,” Walter says. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Not all of us were condemned by his hand,” she says hurriedly. “You, for example. But my uncle has a hard time finding good favor with others. His time as king has tainted him with a terrible arrogance.”

“He did seem kind of rude. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken.”

They keep walking. It’s awkward. Walter breaks the silence. “So, do you talk to him a lot?”

Wendy hums. “As often as I must. Despite everything, he is still family. And he has been earnestly attempting to better himself, which I believe we all appreciate.”

Abigail makes a sound like steam rising off a lake, and Wendy nods in agreement. “Abigail makes a good point. We know that he cares about us.”

It’s an offhand comment, but it sends a pang of jealousy through him. Wistfully and without thinking, Walter says, “It seems kind of nice. To have family with you.” It’s a more emotionally revealing statement than he wanted to make, and he’s a bit alarmed with himself for having said something like that. Wendy seems to take it in stride though, making a sort of sympathetic sound.

“It is difficult,” she says, “to be forced to face a cruel world without a caring presence beside you.” Walter gets the feeling she isn’t talking about Maxwell anymore. Abigail murmurs sadly, hovering over Wendy’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agrees. Quickly glancing around to verify that they’re alone, he puts a hand over his mouth and steps closer to her. “Don’t tell anyone, but… I think I’m getting a bit homesick.”

Solemnly, Wendy nods. “I shan’t speak a word of it to anyone.”

According to the strange thermometer set up in the camp, winter is approaching, and Walter is sure starting to feel it. The forest has started going bare, the coating of leaves along the ground growing denser by the day. There’s a chill pervading the air, one that sends him shivering on early morning fishing trips and late-night firefly hunting. He, along with the other members of the camp, huddle closer to the fire at night.

Wendy’s been making hats from the silk and fur they have, decorating them with different patterns and toppers. She’s steady with a needle, and Walter watches her thread the fabrics together in awe as they sit together.

“Who’s that one for?” he points at the completed hat she has sitting atop the spool of silk beside her.

“It’s for Webber.” She lifts it into the air, showing off the ear flaps. “So his extra legs don’t get cold.”

“It’s pretty.” The hat has been colored orange and red with boiled eggshells and berry juice. It’s an impressive feat of craftsmanship, and he wonders if Wendy will teach him how to sew like that, too.

She turns it over. “Thank you. But I think I made it a bit too big.”

“Let me try,” Walter says, reaching for it. The hat is soft, and he takes a moment to admire the texture before going to put it on. Before he gets a chance, however, Wendy interrupts.

“That’s backwards.”

Walter stops, looking at the hat. “It is?” He turns it over. The other side looks exactly the same. “It’s kind of hard to tell,” he admits.

Wendy shrugs. An idea suddenly dawns on him.

“You know,” he starts, and Wendy must hear the mischief in his tone because she immediately frowns at him. “It would be kinda funny if he wore it backwards.”

Unconvinced, Wendy asks, “Would it?”

“Yeah! My older cousins once convinced me that you can wear a skirt like a shirt, and they thought it was pretty funny, so I guess it must be funny to wear clothes wrong.”

“Maybe.” She still sounds dubious.

Walter stands up, gesturing for Webber to join them. “Here, give it to him,” he whispers to Wendy, shoving the hat back into her hands as Webber approaches.

“What is it?” the boy asks, glancing back and forth from Walter to Wendy. His smaller eyes don’t quite synchronize with the movements of his larger ones, and Walter finds himself momentarily distracted by this. Luckily, Wendy takes charge, standing as well. She holds the hat out to him.

“Here. Try this on,” she says.

“Oh, you finished our hat!” Webber exclaims. He grins as he takes it, taking a moment just as Walter did to marvel at the softness, before placing it over his head. Wendy’s initial assessment that the hat was too big was immediately obvious, and coupled with having put it on the wrong way, the hat leaves Webber with just a bit of his furry head showing. The front lip falls all the way down past where his nose would be, and his mouth is just barely visible underneath, open in alarm.

“It covers our eyes!” Webber says loudly, as if to make up for his lack of sight.

Walter giggles, trying vainly to stifle it with a hand, and Wendy shushes him. “It’s the intended design, Webber. And you have to wear it because I made it for you.”

They both know Webber will be too polite to object to that. His mouth abruptly shuts, hiding his fangs, and Walter thinks he sees the boy swallow, as if steeling his nerves. His stance straightens, like he’s fully committing to spending the entire winter blinded. “We will wear it then!” he declares, turning and almost immediately running headfirst into the camp’s outer stone wall. With a startled cry, he backs up, and Walter just barely manages to grab hold of his shoulder before he trips and falls backwards.

“Thank you,” Webber says as he regains his balance. “This hat is scary!”

Wendy laughs. It escapes her like a puff of smoke, a small, flightless thing that could be mistaken as nothing more than a breath come too fast. But Walter can tell what it is, and he looks to her in surprise for a moment before a grin spreads across his face.

He thinks Webber can tell what it is too, because Walter sees him lift the hem of the hat, and even though he’s not very good at discerning spider expressions, to him, Webber looks incredibly pleased.

“That was amusing,” Wendy says after they’ve gotten the hat off Webber and tucked away in Wendy’s bag for further tailoring. “I will admit that despite your naivety, you have good ideas, Walter.”

It’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Walter doesn’t take it personally. “Thanks. You’re a lot better at holding it together when it comes to pranks, though.”

She nods. “That is true. Does that mean you would be opposed to orchestrating a second one?”

He grins. “Not at all.”

They get Webber to help with their next one. Willow’s used to him spending nights by the spider dens along the forest, so it’s not suspicious if he doesn’t show up by nightfall.

Woby whines, shaking her shaggy head as Webber gets close, and Walter does his best to hold onto her collar and keep her from bucking him away and scampering off. “It’s okay girl, he’s nice, trust me,” Walter soothes, petting her big floppy ears as Webber struggles to mount her.

He gets it eventually, holding on tight to the fur on the back of Woby’s neck, and Walter takes her head between his hands and speaks very sternly. “Be nice to Webber, and listen to him, okay? We’re doing a prank on Willow, and you’ve gotta be good for it.” Woby woofs, which doesn’t really sound like agreement, but she seems to quickly give in, licking his face affectionately when Walter pouts at her. He grins. “There’s a good girl.”

He rejoins Wendy by the outer camp wall, where she’d been watching.

“It is impressive how well you have tamed such a great beast,” she says.

He shrugs. “Woby’s not much of a beast. She’s scared of butterflies.”

“I see.”

Nightfall finds both of them back in camp with Willow, watching as she rummages through the fridge for something to put together into a half-decent meal. Wendy looks over to him and gives him a nudge, indicating that they should start.

“I have a story!” Walter announces loudly, planting himself cross-legged by the fire. That does enough to gather attention. Willow likes to pretend she isn’t all that interested in his stories, but oftentimes she’s the one sitting most on edge, her chin resting on her hands as she listens with wide eyes and held breath for him to finish.

Now is no exception. She lingers at the crockpot for a moment while Wendy joins him by the fire, although sky quickly abandons the meatballs she’d been preparing in favor of listening to the story. Walter clears his throat, glancing out beyond the walls. There’s a small gleam of light out there, a torch, where Webber and Woby are waiting for their cue.

“So there’s this monster out in the woods,” he begins, putting his hands up. He’d practiced for this one, no messing up or scrambling his words. It has to be good. He takes a breath to steady himself.

“They say it’s huge, almost three meters tall, with long shaggy fur that drags behind it, getting all dirty with mud and leaves, and long scary claws. The people who see it say it looks like a piece of the forest itself.” He thinks that was pretty good, but Willow doesn’t look impressed yet. He goes off script, amping it up. “A-And it’s super venomous too, with acid breath and big sharp teeth!” He claws his hands in front of his face, imitating fangs. “It goes around hunting people who wander too far into the woods. Sometimes, people’ll see lights shining through the trees without knowing that they’re just the monster’s shiny eyes.”

The fire pops, sparks flying as if to emphasize his words. Willow seems pretty enraptured now, head tilted slightly as her eyes flick between the flames and Walter’s gestures.

“What else?” Wendy prompts, just as they’d planned.

For the briefest moment, the script slips from his mind, and Walter stumbles. “Huh? Oh, yeah, so--” he clears his throat again. “It uh…”

“They say…” Wendy whispers.

“Right! They say it roams out there, stalking unsuspecting campers...” he turns and finds that speck of light with his eyes again, raising his voice for the final line. “...Waiting for a chance to strike!”

With a resonant howl, Woby leaps over the southern wall of the camp. Webber, with his hands wrapped around her neck, holds on for dear life. She doesn’t quite nail the landing, scrambling to slow down on the dirt and slamming sideways into the alchemy engine, nearly knocking it over.

Walter giddily looks to see Willow's expression, but quickly finds himself pushed backwards, scraping his knees in the dirt, with Wendy toppled over and looking equally confused beside him. He winces, assessing the rough scratches of grit on his skin. Once he’s confirmed he’s not bleeding, he glances forward.

There is a towering dark shape before him, backlit by the glow of the fire, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Willow, her spear readied and sharp in her grasp. She’d shoved them behind her almost immediately, widening her stance and placing herself firmly between them and Woby.

Walter uprights himself, reaching out hesitantly for her sleeve. “Willow--”

Her head snaps down to him, and he flinches backwards. There’s nothing but ferocity and aggression in her eyes, although it slowly fades as she takes note of Woby skittering away from her spearpoint nervously, and Webber sliding clumsily off her back, landing with an ‘oof’.

After another few moments of taking in the scene, her stance drops. “Okay,” she says finally, sinking her spearpoint into the dirt and turning to glower at each of the children in turn. “I don’t know what you all were thinking, but that was really dumb. Like, actually really dumb.”

“It was my idea,” Wendy pipes up, brushing dirt off her skirt as she stands up. “I asked Walter--”

“No, you just said you wanted to do a prank,” he argues. It doesn’t feel fair for her to try and take blame. He faces Willow, hands folded behind his back. “It was my idea.”

“...We just thought it would be fun, Ms. Willow,” Webber says sheepishly, wringing his hands as he edges forward.

“Yeah? Well I could’ve stabbed you. Bet that would’ve been real fun,” she snaps.

Webber’s eyes start welling. Seeing this, Water steps forward. “I asked him to do it. It’s my fault.”

Her sharp gaze turns to him and Walter stiffens, looking down and feeling very much in trouble. Still, he can’t let his friends take the heat for him. He’s got honor, after all.

“I know you don’t know yet, but things bursting into our camp and attacking us isn’t really something we can joke about,” Willow lectures, her tone like an edge of broken glass. “Putting one of you in the position of some monster? That’s really, really dumb.”

Walter keeps examining his shoes, his hands tightening around each other behind his back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Something in Willow seems to soften at that. She sighs, patting him on the shoulder. “Just. Don’t pull that sh-- stuff again.” She grimaces. “I have a headache. See you in the morning.” With that, she disappears into the tent.

Webber still looks on the verge of tears, and Walter murmurs an apology to him as well. Through it all, Wendy still looks nothing more than apathetic. She glances to the tent, then nods, as if to herself.

“To be fair,” she says. “Conceptually, it was very amusing.”

Walter sniffs, brightening at that. “Yeah?”

The tiniest of smiles graces her lips. “Yeah.”

#don't starve #dont starve #dont starve together #dst #dst walter #ds wendy #ds willow #dst fic #dont starve fic #my writing #reblogs and comments appreciated!#marine blogs #finally another chapter done!#ended up being longer than expected even w me scrapping an entire other scene

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tails-and-scales · 4 years

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Sai’s Bitty Group

So I didn’t mean to end up with so many bitties- I swear I didn’t but stars are holiday events fun! Everyone in the shop still gets personal time to just snuggle Sai and everyone is able to play and help out. I’ll eventually get to writing stories for them. Gonna try to not go for anymore bitties, but I’m not one to turn away a little one that needs me

(I may actually spread a few of my new holiday bitties out to another muse of mine that could use the companions-)

Laminae - Mumcher (Horrortale Toriel)

Layl - Nightmare

Fajar - Dream

These three are from the wonderful @dotchi13‘s shop

Torque - Fullsized Chain

Boisenberry - Fullsized Mamba

These two are from @vex-bittys‘ shop, such good lamia!

Aishi - Snowberry

The good ice kitsune is from @fairysmolsxoxo‘s shop

Dusk - Nocturne

Sajan - Ascella

Dusk is my personal Nocturne and Sajan is the Ascella that took to Laminae, I’m not gonna be adopting him out

Winona (Goes by None) - Strawberry Nightmare

This sweetie is from @skelebitty-store-and-shelter‘s shop

Rutilus - Alpha (Full sized)

Salutaris - Papy Sweet (full sized)

These two are from the @wonderland-isles

Sneachta - Seal Selkie Sans

Pierre - Gargoyle Monster Kid

Galdur - Baku Charm (Reapertale Gaster)

Angel - Banshee Chestnut (Fell Frisk)

Uligo - Humidity (Alphyne Amalgamate)

Kamaji - Soot Spirit Elegy (Geno Blooky)

Hertogi - Centaur Indigo (Rouxls Kaard)

Lilac - Drider Lilac (Underswap Muffet)

Squall - Ifrit Safren (Underfell Asriel)

Anam - Cat Sith Mettaton

Capri - Capricorn Pixel (Errortale Toriel)

Sol - Syrah (Reapertale Grillby, Ravenclaw robes)

Chacha - Faun Chaos Times (Skeletal Chara)

Pumpkin - Will o' Wisp Pumpkin (Pie Papyrus)

River - Manticore Charon (Underswap Gaster) Lion lower half

Drogon - Dragon Chili (Underfell Sans)

Petal - Patchwork Doll Capri (Monster Frisk)

Star - Wish (Reapertale Asriel)

Kitsi - Doppleganger Frisky

Autumn - Qilin Quiche (Tendertale Sans)

Fjer - Raven Charcoal (River Person)

Skydda - rå Floof (Ralsei)

Acer - Treat (Underfell! Goner Kid)

Vanga - Child Blackjack (Deltarune! Lancer)

Ascia - Tooth (Deltarune! Susie)

Ao - Limnad Blue Raspberry (Underfell Undyne)

Kyubey - Tunda Lemon (Underfell Alphys)

Rhaegal - Tiger Familiar Dragon (Underfell Papyrus)

Alepoú - Teumessian Fox Flambe

Blomma - sânziană Twitchy (Underfell Flowey)

Castillo - nephilim Aphelion (Outertale Asgore)

Feri - rusalka Minnow (Muffet)

Duusu - Mayura Entropy (Jevil)

Smokey - cha kla Button

Astrum - tzitzimitl Milky

Viserion - Wyvern Mikal (Monster Kid

Fenrir - warg Blackberry (Underfell Gaster)

Hazel - tanuki Hazelnut (Chara)

Heiwa - Genie Jangle (Deltafell Jevil)

Kulta - chrysomallus Altair (Outertale Asriel)

Sarah - Sahariel (Torie and Sahana (Paitence SOULl)

Flora - Floralia (Skeleton! Frisk)

Imelda - Maize (Dancetale! Alphys)

Fluffy - Fluffybuns (Undertale Asgore)

Alphie - Alphie (Alpha Flowey Underfell)

Echo - Mirror (Echo Flower)

Tamlen - Nea (Wood Elf Papyrus)

Talus - Copper (Fawn! W.D. Gaster)

Dorian - Vermilion (Sand Cat! Grillby)

Napsta - Napstatune (Blogger! Napstablook):

Blackberry - Bat Youkai Edgeberry (SF! Sans)

Bun - wolpertinger Powder (Dancetale! Nice Cream Guy)

Fortis - 2-K (Tailplates Monster Kid, variant of Handplates) -

Flùr - Petal (Flowey, green petals, yellow stem; fused with green soul)

Azure - Berry (Swap Sans)

Dolus - Trick (Underfell Monster Kid)

Bud - Buddy (White petal Flowey, Sans like personality)

Catulus - Inu Youkai Softie (SF Papyrus)

Koibito - gashadokuro Souffle (Tendertale Papyrus)

Dulcis - Candy person Butterscotch (Underpie Frisk, based on a butterscotch pie)

Corail - Reef (Alpha/Omega Flowey, Undersplash)

Lavender - Lavender Kindness Bell (6 petal Flowey)

Nix - Chilly (Winter Napstablook)

Holly - Ellie (Noelle)

Rouquin - Gingerbread (Holiday Chara)

Baie - Holly (Holiday Flowey)

Caraegis - Frosty (Wheelchairbound Winter Mettaton)

And this big list is from the holiday events that @ticklishjevil as hosted, along with a few that were gifts or regular adoptions

#sai speas #I've got so many bitties #And some of them may not get along well with each other #I'll need to look at them all and see #Ethna may be getting some actually-

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yourknightinshiningplastic · 2 years

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I'm about to get real annoying

#just listened to all wilburs music so you know #wilbur soot #also i just learned that isn't his real name #kinda pissed me off ngl #its just so believable #winona has something to say

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kaaramel · 6 years

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victorian + cook skin strings

i’m just gonna dump all of it in one go let’s rumble

you can see all the victorian-set items and their descriptions in the curio cabinet screen, so those are legit i’m just compiling them, but the “cook” items don’t seem to be complete/released yet. i’m a filthy dataminer grubbing for secrets. i’ll put victorian first and the cook stuff at the end if, idk, spoilers bother you

highlights:

wx is in a DIVING SUIT. an EXPLICITLY NON-WATERPROOF ONE

WIGFRID the SHAKESPEAREAN ACTRESS looks SO GOOD - is she actually straight up cast as hamlet??? ICONIC I LOVE HER

willow’s makes me SAD let her IN FROM THE COLD

wicker’s item descriptions mention “putting the upper crust in their place” and maxwell’s identify him, unequivocally, as “the upper crust.” TAKE HIM OUT, WB

the two cook quotes for woodie establish he considers lucy his sous chef and he actively uses her to cut things in the kitchen, which is.. dubious

MEEEEAT

character quotes:

wilson: “The root of all malady lies in an imbalance of the humors.” willow: “Fancy a matchstick, sir?” wolfgang: “Sir Wolfgang is strongest boxer!” wendy: “I am in deepest mourning...” wx-78: “PREPARING TO DIVE” wickerbottom: “Manners, my dear.” woodie: “They ain’t beaver pelts, I’ll tell ya that much.” maxwell: “Hmph.” wigfrid: "Wörds, wörds, wörds.” [Hamlet II.ii.183] webber: “Look, we lost a tooth!” winona: “Honest work makes an honest woman.”

individual item descriptions:

wilson: Physician's [x]

wilson_victorian = "Wilson is a major advocate of the health benefits of leeches." body_wilson_victorian = "Have you tried amputating what ails you?" hand_wilson_victorian = "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit!" feet_wilson_victorian = "Shoes that have tread on many a spilled concoction."

willow: Street Peddler’s [x]

willow_victorian = "Willow doesn't just play with matches... she also peddles them." body_willow_victorian = "These rags keep most of the cold out on those bitter nights in the rookeries." hand_willow_victorian = "These matchstick seller gloves do little to keep out the cold." feet_willow_victorian = "The cold of the cobblestones seeps right through them."

wolfgang: Pugilist’s [x]

wolfgang_victorian = "Pugilism is a gentleman's sport." body_wolfgang_victorian = "For when you've a match scheduled naught an hour after high tea." hand_wolfgang_victorian = "Left hook! Right hook! Jab, jab!" feet_wolfgang_victorian = "Just pull them on and jump in the ring!"

wendy: Mourning [x]

wendy_victorian = "Wendy is the queen of strict, socially mandated mourning practices." body_wendy_victorian = "No expense has been spared in these grimly beautiful mourning clothes." hand_wendy_victorian = "Soft gloves to hold your heartbreak." feet_wendy_victorian = "Heavy shoes to tread the path of sorrow."

wx-78: Diving Suit [x]

wx78_victorian = "These are their diving gears." body_wx78_victorian = "It seems this elaborate diving suit was constructed with artistic taste in mind. It has no functional purpose." hand_wx78_victorian = "These diving suit gloves are old and worn. They probably aren't waterproof anymore." legs_wx78_victorian = "The bottom of this diving suit is just for show. It doesn't keep out water anymore."

wickerbottom: Aristocrat’s Haughty [x]

wickerbottom_victorian = "How did Ms. Wickerbottom accrue her fortune? Perhaps you should mind your own business." body_wickerbottom_victorian = "The perfect outfit for lounging in the drawing room, or putting the upper crust in their place." hand_wickerbottom_victorian = "You'll be the envy of all at the luncheon in this refined number." feet_wickerbottom_victorian = "Fashionably heeled shoes for a woman of high society."

woodie: Trader’s [x]

woodie_victorian = "Woodie's wilderness survival comes in handy in the great North." body_woodie_victorian = "A gentleman's overcoat embellished with fine, rare furs." hand_woodie_victorian = "Keep your hands free for tanning pelts!" legs_woodie_victorian = "Comes with shin guards to ward off rabid beavers. (Note: Useless against all other animals)"

maxwell: Aristocrat’s Fine [x]

waxwell_victorian = "Money and affluence have gone straight to this gentleman's head." body_waxwell_victorian = "The extravagant attire of an influential upper cruster." hand_waxwell_victorian = "A pair of white gloves for a high class snob." legs_waxwell_victorian = "Buckle up for a night on the town."

wes: Sooty Sweep’s [x]

wes_victorian = "This sweep's work is quite grueling. He'd prefer not to talk about it." body_wes_victorian = "It's a good bet that the owner of these clothes spent significant time in a chimney." hand_wes_victorian = "These were white gloves when you first started in the sweep business." feet_wes_victorian = "Black shoes don't show the soot."

wigfrid: Tragedienne [x]

wathgrithr_victorian = "It seems Ms. Wigfrid can connect to the poetry of any tragedy." body_wathgrithr_victorian = "This actress fought tooth and nail for this prestigious Shakespearean role." hand_wathgrithr_victorian = "A pair of thin cloth gloves, likely worn by an actress." legs_wathgrithr_victorian = "These pants allow freedom of movement and complete mobility for an incredible performance."

webber: Schoolboy [x]

webber_victorian = "This lively young lad has a most healthy pallor." body_webber_victorian = "Someone's mother dressed them this morning." hand_webber_victorian = "A pair of cuffs to wear when studiously practicing the three Rs." feet_webber_victorian = "Don't forget your slate on the way to the schoolhouse."

winona: Blacksmith’s [x]

winona_victorian = "Winona dreams up all sorts of fantastic mechanical inventions in her private workshop." body_winona_victorian = "Keep oil and automaton grease off your clothing with this fine leather apron." hand_winona_victorian = "Thick gloves for transferring smelted metals." legs_winona_victorian = "If the smithy floor is covered in hay, you never know when you might step on a nail."

item skins:

cane_victorian (Goatshead Cane) = "A cane to accompany you on your afternoon stroll." icebox_victorian = "A sophisticated ice box, for the sophisticated wilderness dweller." firepit_victorian = "The heart of every household." hambat_potroast (Pot Roastbat) = "Delicious, delicious murder." cookpot_tureen = "This crockpot is shaped like an elegant Victorian tureen."

cook skins:

character quotes:

wilson: “Oh yes, I’m cooking something up.” willow: “My food’s always burnt to perfection!” wolfgang: “Wolfgang will cook for you!” wendy: “Every meal ends in an empty plate.” wx-78: “MEAL SERVER DOWN” wickerbottom: “Just follow the recipe, dear.” woodie: “Lucy is my sous chef.” maxwell: “Everything I make is magnificent.” wigfrid: “MEEEEEAT.” webber: “Let’s get cooking!” winona: “Let ol’Winnie fix ya up somethin’ special.”

item descriptions:

wilson: "Wilson's had a lot of experience cooking with found ingredients." willow: "Chef Willow is a grease fire waiting to happen." wolfgang: "Wolfgang can't relax unless all of his friends are well fed." wendy: "Wendy's not had much kitchen experience, but she's willing to learn." wx-78: "WX must have some utensil addons somewhere around here." wickerbottom: "Wickerbottom has several cookbooks for just such an occasion." woodie: "Woodie's not beyond using an axe in the kitchen." maxwell: "Maxwell is ready to roll up his sleeves and get cooking." wes: "Wes knows a meal is good when the whole table eats in silence." wigfrid: "Wigfrid has many pot roasts in her future." webber: "Webber loves helping out in the kitchen." winona: "Cooking is basically just food assembly, right?"

#dst spoilers #dialogueblogue #dont starve

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