i altered too much of his design

I drew the younger versions of the Dreamswap bros. Their designs are supposed to be pretty much the same, but I added some details to distinguish them. (aside from Nightmare’s sleeves always being rolled up)

For example, you can see that there’s significantly less gold in their designs, and it’s been replaced with white. This was originally just me drawing them incorrectly (I swear everyone draws them differently), but I decided to actually implement it into the designs of these two. I also gave Nightmare a pin (since original Dream has one) and a little scarf thing to go with it because it’s cute (also because his altered design was too plain).

You know what always bothered me…? The fact that Dream’s belt says ‘DS’ on it, standing for Dream Sans. While it would be ironic since DS is also short for Dreamswap, I replaced it with DM (Dream) since he’s not really a Sans.

Random facts about these kiddos:

-Dream somehow has seemingly perpetually good posture. It sometimes makes him look taller than Nightmare, who slumps more.
-Dream is very polite and has controlled and reserved mannerisms. He’s not quiet, however; he doesn’t allow situations to leave his control, and speaks with a powerful tone of voice that makes people feel inclined to shut their mouths and listen.
-Nightmare, on the other hand, is insouciant, sarcastic and has an extremely dry sense of humor. He tends to make jokes about how nobody likes him and moves onto the next subject without any concern.
-If someone were to get to know him, they’d find that he’s very opinionated like his brother, but shows it in a much more exaggerated and emotional way, whether he’s actually serious or not. He quickly forms strong opinions on things and people and isn’t afraid to share them.

(Originals created by @dreamtale-au)

Taking Back Control - Part 10

Warning: this chapter contains an attempt at severe self-mutilation and implies emotional abuse. If you still wish to read the chapter, the particular section of harm will have an * before and after. This selected section doesn’t mention anything particularly graphic, just the implications of what could’ve happened. I’m not sure if its triggering but I’m trying to be safe. The emotional abuse is impossible to avoid – it’s for plot and character development. Basically, this chapter is pure angst, as always whenever Dark appears. Hope you can enjoy regardless.

Dr Iplier kept his eyes locked with the monochrome being before him, pulling up his professional, confident façade. Bim, however, was grasping his hands together in a death grip, gaze averted to the floor. Amy could feel him crumple in on himself in a desperate attempt to hide. The doctor answered Dark’s inquiry carefully.

“Yes, Miss Nelson knows of Mark’s arrival tomorrow.” Dark tilted his head, letting his neck crack, before smiling. It was dead, a slight stretch of the lips that never met his eyes.

“Have you informed her of where she will be staying throughout this event?” The voice echoed through the infirmary, and Amy unwillingly flinched back.

“I was getting to that, Sir.” The doctor spoke through gritted teeth, his hands clenching at the fabric of his coat. Dark’s mouth twisted slightly at the sarcasm and anger in the doctor’s tone, leading to a somehow more horrific smile. Their pale grey complexion gave them the appearance of stone, or a dead man being carefully played by an expert puppeteer. Dark waved his hand in a smooth, dismissive gesture, shaking his head slightly.

“No need Doctor, I can take it from here.” He gazed at Amy, his eyes glinting from the shadows. “You will remain in your room, Miss Nelson. I apologise for the inconvenience, I know you must miss Mark very much. You will be allowed to see him soon.” Amy kept her mouth shut, mainly because there was nothing to say, it was a command, not a question. Besides, Dark was yet to show any signs of knowing Dr Iplier’s plan, and she had no intention of bringing his attention to it. “Now Doctor, can I ask you a question?”

Maybe she had spoken too soon.

“What is it?”

“Google was assigned to watch Miss Nelson, yet he isn’t here now. You aren’t talking behind my back now are you, doctor?” Amy tried to hide her distress. Surprisingly, Dr Iplier loosened up, smiling slightly.

“So that’s what’s gotten you worked up! No Dark, I was informing Amy about Mark’s arrival, and checking up on her concussion. Will shot Google again, he’s off repairing himself. He’ll be back shortly.” Dark nodded slowly, assessing the occupants of the room.

“And, it appears Mr Trimmer is also aiding in this endeavour?” Bim whimpered at the mention of his name.

“Yes, he is-”

“Hush now Doctor, let the man speak for himself.” Bim’s eyes shot up fearfully; his body tensed up beside her. “You’re aiding Miss Nelson, Bim?” He nodded frantically.

“Yes, Sir. She was willing for me to aid her and I’ve been assisting Google with his task!” He spoke quickly but still pronounced each word carefully to avoid error. He clasped his sweating hands together, offering a nervous smile. Dark nodded slowly, sensing the man’s unease. Playing with his prey. Amy couldn’t help but feel pity.

“Google allowed this?”

“Yes, Sir.” Bim didn’t mention that he had tricked the robot into it.

“And it’s all going smoothly?” Bim’s gaze flicked to Amy.

“Yes, S-Sir.” He faltered, and immediately he realised his mistake.

“Was that a stutter, Bim?” Dark straightened his suit and stared the man down intently. Amy and Dr Iplier were powerless to do anything.

“N-no S-Sir.” Bim cringed, covering his mouth his hand and muttering desperately. His eyes watered. Dark tutted, shaking his head slightly. The ringing increased.

“Don’t lie to me Bim. You know you can’t be a successful host if you can’t speak clearly. That is what you want to be, yes?” Bim was shaking.

“Yes, S-Sir. I’m s-sorry, Sir. I didn’t m-mean…” He trailed off, gulping. He wiped at his eyes anxiously.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Trimmer. You can’t say sorry on stage. How can you help Amy if you can’t speak clearly?” It was rhetorical, Amy didn’t get a chance to respond, it felt as if her mouth had been taped shut. Dark pinched the bridge of his nose in feigned frustration, and Bim lapped it right up. “I’m trying to help you, Bim.”

“I know, Sir I’m s-sorry. L-Let me-” Bim slurred away in hysterics.

“Come here, Bim.” Amy felt her blood turn to ice. Dark’s tone was cold and heartless, and there was no chance for escape now. She watched as Bim’s words died in his throat and his shoulders slumped.

“Sir, please, don’t…” Amy glanced at Dr Iplier, who looked just as mortified. There wasn’t anything they could do. Dark gestured at the floor next to him expectantly, and Bim choked back a sob. He shuffled over in defeat, falling deathly quiet. He stood beside Dark, avoiding eye contact with Amy and the doctor, instead settling his gaze onto his shoes. He was submissive, like Dark’s pet dog, following every command like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Dark turned to Dr Iplier, smiling mockingly

“I will allow you to finish your check-up alone, Doctor.” Dr Iplier, nodded stiffly, his hands clenched tightly. Dark noted this, his gaze sweeping over the alter with calculating eyes. “Have you taken your medication today?” The doctor froze up, and Amy guarded her expression. She wouldn’t let Dark have the satisfaction of seeing her confusion.

“No.” he growled through gritted teeth, and Dark inclined his head.

“I suspected as much, make sure not to forget. I expect Amy to be in her room by nightfall.” Dark placed his pale hand on Bim shoulder, and she felt her heart clench as the man flinched. The two left, closing the curtains behind them. Their shadows disappeared immediately. The ringing was the only thing to fade away, and the second it was gone crushing relief hit her. It was fleeting, almost immediately replaced with guilt as Bim’s absence seeped in. Amy turned to confront the doctor and found him staring hollowly at the curtains. Before she could speak up, he spun around violently, causing her to leap back. He kicked the hospital bed, rattling out a loud string of curses.

“That fucking…” With a cry of frustration, he slashed out his arms, sending the equipment trolley spinning and clattering down towards the curtain, a few medical tools toppling to the floor. “Couldn’t even fucking stop it. What kind of shitty doctor am I?” After a few more kicks at the bed, he sat down heavily on the mattress, ripping at his hair, growling out blasphemies. A few moments passed where they both sat there, and Amy was unsure of what to say. Then, without a word, Dr Iplier stood, walking over to a sink and pouring himself a glass of water. He opened a cabinet, found the pills Amy assumed to be his ‘medication’ and downed them with the water. He placed the glass in the sink, then proceeded to sit down on the bed once more, looking up at Amy. She took this as her cue to speak.

“What’s going to happen to him?” She asked quietly, and the doctor sighed, rubbing his face. The way his tired eyes regarded her made him look much older than he was.

“I don’t know.” His voice was raspy defeated. Amy could tell by looking at him that this was a situation the doctor had gone through many times before. Watching his patients and friends taken away in front of him, before being left to pick up the pieces. She already had some suspicions about what the medication was for. “I’ve known something was wrong for the longest time. If it offers any reassurance, I doubt Dark will injure him. He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, and there’s no need for him to.” What was worse was the way the doctor regarded her. He was tired and miserable, yet he was always looking at her. Always accessing her condition. Always making sure she was alright. He wasn’t considering himself.  

“When did this start?” She realised that was quite vague, “I mean, when did Dark start treating Bim like this?” He leaned back, scratching at his slight beard.

“I remember every alter that’s ever appeared. I should anyway, I’ve given them all a medical record. Mr Bim Trimmer first arrived on the 10th of December 2014, one of the later ones. He was a bustling happy young man, if not a bit egotistical. I’d found him a bit too energetic and one-track minded for my tastes, that was until he first appeared at my clinic one night.” A small smile graced Dr Iplier’s lips, and it somehow made him look even sadder. “He been utterly distraught, said he’d thought his heart had been broken. It was when Bim had first realised that Matthias had used him to get a job and had never really loved him. I think it was then that I realised there was more to his character than just ego. It was when I realised he was a person too. It wasn’t much later when he suddenly disappeared.”

“Why?” The doctor observed her solemnly.

“It didn’t take long for the fans to forget about him, and Dark saw no use for him. Bim left for the forest like every other forgotten alter. It hit him harder than any of the others, he was designed to be confident and egotistical. Bim didn’t take everyone forgetting him well. Even Mark had forgotten him.”

“That’s awful.” And Amy meant it. She couldn’t have known this was happening. She wondered if Mark had even known just how many of his characters were suffering. If he had, would he have tried to stop it? Dr Iplier nodded slowly.

“We were all being forgotten, slowly and steadily the alters were becoming no more. That is until Dark couldn’t stand it any longer. He and Wilford were the strongest of all of us, and when they asked for Bim’s abilities, he had leapt at the opportunity. Dark hadn’t needed any manipulation to get Bim on his side. Sometimes, I think Dark just relishes in breaking people. I can’t even imagine what goes through that monster’s head as he leaves Bim slowly shattering apart. He’s made Bim so reliant on his opinion that he’ll believe anything he says. Not long now before Bim truly loses everything he once stood for. He cares about you a lot Amy, and that’s saying something. He’s scared of everyone else, even me. He’s thrown all his hope and trust at Dark, and I have to sit and watch as it gets sucked away, turning the once optimistic young man into a hollow shell.” The doctor didn’t even seem to register the rant that had left his lips as he wiped his watering eyes, sighing. “I’m sick of watching everyone break around me, and now you’ve been dragged into it as well. If you wish you can go back to your room. Try and avoid the theatre, though Wilford’s probably already forgotten whatever he’d had planned.” Amy shook her head sternly, eyeing the doctor down.

“I’m waiting here with you, Bim will be back, right?” The doctor shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just hope that he’s smart enough to know that if he’s being hurt, I’m willing to treat him no questions asked. Though, he’s got too much pride to admit to anything, even if he’s bad at hiding his pain.” The doctor looked over at Amy carefully. “If you have any more questions I’m willing to answer.”

“Is the plan still going again?” A nod.

“Oliver’s already been rigged to send the email next time Mark accesses his computer. Though, as you now know, you’ll have to stay in your room.” Amy thought for a moment.

“Do you know where the Host’s been?” A shrug.

“I understand that you wouldn’t know this, but it’s rare for the Host to leave his wing. I’ve been over the change his bandages, but other than that I leave him alone, as do the others. He doesn’t like disturbances or loud noises. He just locks himself in and writes, occasionally hosting his game show. He doesn’t eat, and I’d bet he doesn’t sleep. It isn’t healthy, but all my attempts to stop it have failed.”


* to the end.

They’d only been talking like this for a little while longer when Bim suddenly burst into the room. His face was red and shone with tears. He tossed his suit jacket to the side and with wild eyes dashed for the equipment trolley. Dr Iplier immediately jumped to his feet, but Amy got there first. She managed to restrain Bim, who was grasping desperately towards the various medical equipment positioned on the surface. The doctor quickly pushed the trolley away.

“Let go of me! Please, I have to…” The doctor held up his hands placatingly.

“Bim, calm down. Explain to me what’s going on.” Bim shook his head wildly, still attempting to escape Amy’s hold.

“I c-can’t! You wouldn’t let me!” The room started to twist and mould around them. It was as if time had sped up, the room slowly turning decrepit and decaying as roots seeped through the walls and twisted around the furniture. Dirt and dust built up, leading to growth spreading out from the floors. Amy glanced around in awe.

“What’s happening?”

“Amy, it’s just Bim’s illusions! Keep hold of-“

It was too late.

Bim broke free of her loosened grasp and grasped for the tools that had been scattered across the floor in the doctor’s earlier outburst. He fell the floor, his glasses snapping as they fell from his face and were crushed under his writhing form. The man’s hand found a scalpel. Amy reached down, only to have her palm sliced with the blade, causing her to stagger back. She held on hand tightly over the other to stem the blood flow, hissing from the sting. Dr Iplier grabbed Bim from behind, pulling him back. The scalpel slashed at Bim’s mouth, and the doctor quickly grabbed his hand, although not before the blade reached Bim’s lip. Blood trickled down his chin and stained Bim’s white dress shirt.  

“Bim, please. Take a few breaths. Try to explain what happened ok?” Amy stood frozen, watching the as Bim broke, tears mixing with the blood. The scalpel hit the floor with a clang. He spat out a mouthful of blood. The room continued to crumble and decay.

“I c-can’t st-stutter if I don’t h-have a tongue…” The doctor’s eyes widened. They shook their head in disbelief.

“Bim, what did he say to you?”

“The tr-truth. I’m use-useless. I can’t d-do my j-job properly, I’m a s-stupid sh-shitty alter that’s b-been for-forgotten…” he splattered out more blood. “I haven-haven’t listened t-to any of h-his advice, I’m n-never going to be a g-game show h-host…”

“Bim, the entire fan base loves you. Have you not checked social media?” Bim furrowed his brow.

“D-Dark won’t let me. He s-says it’s to p-protect m-me.” Dr Iplier sighed.

“He’s lying Bim. I’ll have to show you some time. Here, let’s get that lip patched up, come on.” He hoisted Bim up, pulling him into a sitting position on the nearest bed. “What happened to your jacket?”

“I r-ripped it. It’s n-not good enough. I’m going t-to get another, maybe a b-better tie…”

“Bim, your clothes are fine. What we need to get you is a new pair of glasses.” Amy finally managed to catch the doctors eye, glancing at her bleeding hand desperately. His eyes widened. “Alright Amy, let me get you a band-aid. Actually, bandages might be better for that…” Suddenly, all the illusions flickered away as Bim made eye-contact with her. It seemed he’d only just realised she was there. His eyes trailed down to her bleeding palm.

“A-Amy I d-didn’t see you…” The alter started shaking, “I swear I did-didn’t, I’m so, s-so sorry…”

“Bim, it’s fine, look.” She gestured with her free hand as the doctor wrapped her wound with bandages. “Nothing a few bandages won’t fix. We need to look at that lip…” Bim flinched, a hand wiping at the blood, only causing more to smear across his face. They winced at the pain, averting their gaze away from her in shame. Dr Iplier looked him over, before eyeing Amy seriously.

“It might be best if you leave. You’ll be going tomorrow, I need a moment with Bim.” Amy nodded slowly, numbly making her way out of the room. She took one last glance the doctor kneeled in front of his crying patient. This wasn’t about her safety anymore, she realised as she snuck back down to her room, keeping an eye out for Wilford. This was about all the other alters as well.

She had to get them out of here.

Start - Previous - Next

Now this is how you do fanservice without being blatantly obvious and throwing it in the face. You’ll still get the money from horny otakus but you won’t have a big part of your fan base cringing and not being able to play comfortably in public places.

First we have Jack The Ripper. It’s not the fact that they made her a child with a thong that bothers me. But I feel it works really bad for her overall design. You have a dark/detailed top and head, then nada, and dark detailed boots again. It completely interrupts the flow and brings all the attention to her micro thong. I feel just giving her normal panties works a lot better, while you still have a loli running in panties to make all the fanservice ass shots you want.

Then we have Mordred. A knight of the Round Table of Camelot who can’t afford a pair of panties or a bra her size. Was it really needed to make random holes in her clothes to show she’s not wearing anything under that piece of cloth? Was it that important? That top looks uncomfortable af too. Seriously, they wouldn’t have lost money giving it 5cm more of cloth. I edited it so you still have her stripping with ascensions, but at least making more sense.

About Alter Lancer. Well, she’s beyond hope.

Sorry just wanted to rant a little. And no, I’m not only complaining about females being sexualized (I’m not really happy with Diarmuid’s 2nd art either. As much as shirtless!Diarmuid is a HELL YEAH, just removing his top is pretty cheap. They did it a lot better with Cu Lancer). But one of my biggest pet peeves are design choices that are clearly bad or make no sense at all, just for the sake of fanservice…

This little bugger was gone for a little while huh? He needed a litttle revamp.
The changes aren’t too huge in hindsight but I’m much more satisfied with his new version. He’ll hopefully be getting an ability sheet too.
I altered his wrist bands to look like metal (more in tune with the time period) instead of leather, the boots now have the proper rockets on them with some new details, his guns has been remade to have it be his own unique weapon, he has textures now and his shirt has been replaced by the top of a hanbok. And on top of that I’ve finally designed him his own logo/patch, since up until now he’s just had the medic’s logo as a placeholder.
He also now has stats and more detail on his abilities. His took a while to make ^^ But I’m much more satisfied with him!

Team Fortress 2 © Valve

Takao always figured that getting sick when your mom was a nurse had its advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, he was always taken care of quite nicely. On the other hand, she always made it seem like it was a personal affront to her honor when he caught a cold.

“Did you remember to wash your hands?”

“Yes, mom,” Takao says in between coughs.

“You take your vitamins, don’t you? Did you stand near someone with a cold?”

“No, but I was licking pigeons the other day, you don’t think that had something to do with it, do you?”

“No need to be sarcastic, Kazu-chan, I’m just wondering how this happened. I’ll make you some soup.”


His mom never hovered when Takao was sick, and now that he’s older she mostly leaves him to his own devices because she still has to work. Which is not really a problem, except that sometimes he feels lonely.

Ok, fine, usually he feels lonely. He hates it, but whenever he’s sick he feels especially needy. He tosses and turns in his bed feeling wretched and miserable and pathetic.

Being sick is the worst.


“This was very careless of you, Takao.”

Takao blinks at the apparition standing over his bed. “Shin-chan?”

He thinks, perhaps, that he’s dreaming. He’s not sure why else Midorima would be here, frowning at him in his disgruntled and gloriously Midorima fashion.

“I have brought your homework,” Midorima says. “Also, you should have taken better care of yourself. Do you wash your hands regularly?”

Well, it certainly sounds like Midorima. And also like his mother, and Jesus Christ, that is not a comparison Takao ever wants to make again.

“Shin-chaaaan,” Takao whines. “Your adorable and beloved boyfriend is sick. That means you have to be nice. And spoil me. And take care of me.”

He’s not sure what exactly he expects—Midorima is not the most demonstrative of boyfriends—but he is rather pleased when Midorima pushes up his glasses and says, “Very well.”


Midorima is very efficient with his care, and Takao dimly remembers that the other boy is studying to be a doctor. He monitors Takao’s temperature, makes sure he drinks a lot of water, and administers the next dosage of medicine in a timely fashion.

When he’s finished, he sits in Takao’s room, and begins studying.

“You can do that at your house,” Takao mumbles.

“I am fine where I am,” Midorima says curtly.


Midorima eats dinner in Takao’s room when Takao is too tired to get out of his bed to eat his soup.

It’s…nice having him around, but strangely off-putting. “Shin-chan, you don’t need to stay,” Takao says, when Midorima makes no indication he’s planning on leaving after finishing his meal.

“I know that,” Midorima says.


Takao wakes and sees Midorima’s silhouette at his bedside, draped in shadows. It’s clearly the middle of the night, and Midorima sits there, fully alert, staring off at the window.

“Shin—?” Takao can’t fully croak out the words, and he’s pretty sure he must still be dreaming, because there’s no reason for Midorima to still be here.

“Go back to sleep, Takao,” Midorima says, and his voice is a strange mixture of stern and gentle.


“I don’t need as much sleep as you,” Midorima explains, understanding Takao’s unfinished question. “I was designed to go up to a week without sleep, if need be.”

Takao still feels drowsy and heavy with sleep. Midorima reaches over and takes Takao’s hand in his and this surely can’t be real because Midorima almost never initiates contact. But his hand is warm against his, and tight too, like Midorima is scared to let go.

“Shin-chan,” Takao says, fully awake now, and almost a little frightened by Midorima’s gravity. In the darkness, reality feels just a little bit altered, and Midorima is acting so strange Takao thinks there must be something deeper going on. Maybe even something dangerous.

Midorima bends down to place his forehead against Takao’s. “Please get better soon, Takao,” Midorima says, his voice low and hoarse and desperate. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I hate that you’re so vulnerable. I hate that you break so easy, I hate—”

It’s just a cold, Takao wants to say. If he was healthier, he’d laugh it off (but, of course, if he was healthier he wouldn’t be in this situation). He would laugh and maybe slap Midorima on the back and tell him he’s being silly.

But everything seems so different, now in the dark.

“OK, Shin-chan,” Takao whispers. “I’ll get better.”

“Good,” Takao says, but he doesn’t pull away.

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon-friends! Sick Takao seemed like a popular request so I ran with it =D


Eh… been in an artistic slump lately, can’t bring myself to produce anything these past few weeks, so I can share some character designs I made before that feeling started hitting. :/

Got a male Hawlucha with Talonflame colors, a mean hitman that fights and strikes down others with Deer Horn knives. Known to carve off valuable/weapon-worthy features off of other Pokemon and hang them off his belts as trophies and/or warnings. He goes by L'Artiglio.

Next is a ref of Nailah from the crackship offspring meme result here, but with more color – and some adjustments – to her design. A very toned Gardegrigus (Gardevoir + Cofagrigus) hybrid with short horns and gold bands. I haven’t written much about her… also I doubt I’ll use her anywhere.

And last but not least, a shiny, geeky Mismagius guy named Cooper, but prefers to go by his LARPing alter ego, Velius the Black Mage Wizard. A goofball that loves LARPing a bit too much to the point he almost never breaks character, largely because he feels more all-around confidence as Velius than through his normal self. As such, he’s… seen as a weirdo and ends up making others uncomfortable. :D; Poor guy. (Also he wears face paint to keep his face and neck-area hidden but his eyes remain alight)

I dunno if I’ll ever be in the mood to produce something again, I might take up a drawing meme or do requests later, but we’ll see.

Gotham Rogues Challenge [2/30]

Favorite Gotham Rogue ↦ Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow

It’s hard for me to articulate just how much I love J. Crane, because that love is so immense. In short, he caters to my inner super villain and outer psychology major in the best ways. Though, I’m drawn a little more to Crane as an unethical/sadistic doctor than I am to his costumed alter ego. There’s just something about geniuses with mild snark and a dark agenda that gets me. He’s also got my favorite aesthetic across DC comic, video game, and film universes. His design in the Arkham game series is probably my favorite, though I’m super into his Year One revamp, as well as (the bae) Cillian Murphy’s look in Batman Begins (even if Cillian was just a little too pretty to play him).

I also love how formidable a foe he is to Batman without brute strength (or even average strength), and how much conviction he carries in his unwavering motives to understand & spread fear. Villains that prey on the mind instead of the body are my absolute favorite, especially when they pose a serious, believable threat to the protag. Jonathan does it with style & fervor, and I will love him forever for it.


Adam’s leather jacket in the ‘Girls’ premiere is brand-new—and if he doesn’t seem quite at home in it, that was a wholly calculated move.

“Adam is trying too hard, which I think speaks to the larger theme of this episode,” costume designer Jenn Rogien says of Adam in “Iowa.” “He and Hannah are reading each other wrong, and he’s also missed the mark with the audition. That’s not something he’s used to.”

The jacket isn’t without a few alterations, which were blessed by star Adam Driver. “You’ll notice it has fringe across the back of it—it actually had fringe all the way down the sleeves and across the back, but it skewed way too much toward ‘Vegas impersonator,’ so in the fitting, I cut it off the sleeves. Adam and I agreed his character would have been fine with a little fringe.”

lisapizza  asked:

before gansey caved and got the air conditioners for monmouth, do you think ronan cuddled with noah whenever he was overheating?

I’m assuming you sent me this ask to torture me while I was at con because I had recently reblogged this bit of art by i-am-weis, so we’re running with it!

Ronan honestly hadn’t even considered air conditioning. He hadn’t ever needed to before. The Barns had no central air–and certainly no junky, unattractive window units–yet it managed to maintain a pleasant temperature all year round. Air conditioners were for more mundane places like school and Nino’s and shitty dollar stores in fading strip malls. And, apparently, Monmouth Manufacturing.

Monmouth was not mundane, but it also wasn’t full blown impossible. It was a liminal space, a place caught between childhood and adulthood, Ronan’s magic and Gansey’s wonder. Monmouth was Gansey’s castle and Ronan’s refuge and Noah’s…haunt, Ronan supposed. There wasn’t really another word for it. The kid rarely left and always appeared out of nowhere whenever Ronan even thought about going to find him. He was just as faded as those strip malls and if he had existed outside of Monmouth Ronan wouldn’t give him a second look.

But exist in Monmouth he did, which is why Ronan wasn’t the least bit surprised when Noah, who he hadn’t seen all day, gingerly sat down next to where Ronan was sprawled out on the floor at the foot of Gansey’s bed. He had been in Gansey’s bed, just reveling in the superior airflow of the main room when compared to his room, but the sheets held too much warmth. The scratched and stained floorboards held warmth too, but not nearly as effectively. Which is to say, laying on the floor hadn’t yet turned into a feedback loop of god awful.

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