Chapter Text
Outside, the cheetah lights were glowing cheetahly, little lanterns intricately crafted to appear as though they were cheetah pelts draped over a fixture.
Inside, the wall’s colors were deepened by dampness, floors carpeted in a few spots with moss and ferns. A big, gaping hole, put in the side of the house by some natural disaster, decorated and fashioned into a presentable enough window.
Log leafed through the mail – Danny K.’s magazine, couple of advertisements from local businesses he only vaguely recognized, a postcard from some distant relative he’d long forgotten the name of, the works. He was just about to flip through the papers again to double-check it was all his, but realized with a blink and opted for gently tossing them over on the stool, nestled in a corner along with all the other things that’d known better years. It’d been a good few months since he was evicted from Iteo’s house, yet he still hadn’t quite gotten used to not seeing someone else’s name on the address label.
The transition was rough, especially with a house as run down as this, but slowly but surely the new place started to feel like a proper home. He’d perched a couple plants on the windowsills, some more along the mantel, in the hall – sort of just scattered them wherever felt appropriate. Swapped the cheetah pelts for rugs and decorated blank walls with the most ornate bicycle cards money could buy. Log doubted he’d ever rid the place of the odor of lichen and mildew, but, in a way, it was almost comforting. Felt natural.
Still seated by the window, he combed his fingers through his hair and felt around ‘til he found what he was looking for. There it is. A small bud, still unblossomed. Log frowned and drew his hand back down to his lap. Usually, at this time of the year, at least, he’d have a head full of petals by now. Maybe he wasn’t eating enough fertilizer? The stuff was stomach-turning, sure, but he couldn’t complain too terribly much if it kept him up to snuff.
Pushing away from the chair, Log made for the kitchen, head craned around to soak up the sight one last time in case it miraculously turned overcast on his thirty second trip. Sunlight filtering in and refracting through his vases, petals in full bloom turned luminous and delicate by the beams, vines crawling up the side of the window and spiraling around the few jutted edges where the boards weren’t smoothed out. He lingered in the doorway for just a second longer to take it all in before turning to face the cupboards. Strode over to his fertilizer one and eased it open and, a measly little bag. All but deflated from a sorry lack of contents. Log let out a quiet ‘humph’ and crouched down to check the cabinets, then the fridge, then double checked the fertilizer cupboard to make sure nothing had changed.
Log decides to go outside for the first time in his log life and get some sun and get some food T
I’m a Log, he thought. The sun’ll do me some good.
Tossing the vest on his stump bed, Log pulled a shirt from the closet – his favorite one. Brown, long and ruffled and loose, little cream stars specked about like spots on a chestnut cheetah. A chesteeah, if you will. Grabbed a nice big bag for fertilizer and produce, and made for the door. His hand hesitated a little longer than it probably should've on the handle, but he tried to pay no mind.
Strolling along, he could pick out the Bucket in the distance, the light glinting off of it pulling his eyes away, and towards the river winding round the little village. A couple new wild things had flowered up by the bank since he’d last passed by, and he made a mental note to check them out if he still had the time. Fully intending to make a beeline back home as soon as he got the chance, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.
He was a little startled by how unfamiliar, for lack of a better word, it all felt despite the fact he’d been living there for a couple years now, made his way along this same pebble path countless times. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize the village per se, he knew each building and shrub and friendly face like the back of his hand. But there was still something vaguely alien about it that he couldn’t put his finger on. Might’ve been that it wasn’t as forested as Treesville, might just be a screw loose. Some kind of disconnect that left him less than at ease. Whatever the reason, he decided the feeling wouldn’t be helped by endless mulling, and made a point to put a little pep in his step, feel the wind breezing through his leaves. The sun indeed felt good.
Alien or not, he didn’t mind this one bit.
He flipped up the dinky little latch on the gate to Regio’s garden and eased it open, kneeling down by one of the mounds. Even though it was all free for the taking – community garden and stuff – he still felt like he was somehow stealing, thieving even. One might even say pilfering.
“That stuff’s full of pesticides, you know,” called a voice, startling him from his thoughts.
And there, leaning against the fence with woolly red locks and a straw hat, was the prettiest person he ever saw in his Log life.
Her face bore all the features of a no entry sign sent down to earth by heavenly hosts. Her style? Fashionably fantastic. One of her eyes was a white rectangle, and he hypothesized that it was because if two of her eyeballs were open to the world, their combined beauty and soulfulness would catch the whole of the universe alight. A thousand synonyms of pulchritudinous couldn’t even begin to describe all the ways in which she was the picture perfect picture of perfection.
Log blinked once. Twice. Then shook his head to pull him from his daze. “Huh?”
“That’s what I heard, at least. Regi’s skimping out, not maintaining things as well as she used to. Apparently someone saw her sprinkling rat poison all over everything ‘cause she didn’t have any cats left to catch them.” She fiddled with the cuff of her coat as she spoke. “I’m sure you heard why.”
He shuddered a little. “Yeah. Tortured like vultures...”
“Tortured like vultures,” she echoed with a solemn nod.
A moment passed, and Log steeled himself. “Heh, guess I won’t be getting my vegetables from here anymore. I, uh, don’t think we’ve met,” he started, then reached up to offer his hand. “M’name’s Log.”
She craned a hand down to accept the shake. “I’m,” she paused, grin faltering and eyes looking a thousand miles past him for just a second, before continuing, “Partholomew.”
Log let out a reluctant chuckle at the display. “You sure about that?”
Withdrawing her hand and tracing lines in the grass with the toe of her boot, Parthy cracked a small smile again, more genuine this time. “I go by a lot.”
He nodded to that and turned his attention down to the half-unearthed dragonfruit, sweeping the dirt back around it in hopes his nerves would calm if he kept his hands busy. “You’re new, right? In town, I mean. I dunno if I’ve seen you around here.”
“You could say that, yeah. Passed through a couple times, but life on the road’s rough and I guess I needed somewhere to finally settle. Someplace nice, and,” she gently swept her hands up and gestured towards the village. “Seemed as good a fit as any. I like it here.”
“Yeah, it’s a- well, suppose you could call it pretty cheetahlicious.”
She laughed, and he’d never heard a sweeter, more lovelier chuckle in his Log life.
Log drew in a slow, deliberate breath. "Say, I've been meaning to make a trip over to the river anywho. There's a bunch of leafy things growing down there, edible, not-pesticide-d. Wanna come with? I could show you around a little, you know, 'cuz of the new-ness." The moment those words left his Log mouth, practically blurted, he regretted speaking at all.
Parthy's eyebrows went up in what he hoped was pleasant surprise. "Sounds like a plan, surI'm not doing this anymore I'm not doing this anymore I'm sorry I know I promised you a Parlog fan fiction but at this point Partholomew's POV has been written and all this has been written and all I have left is the part where it's actually Parlog and I will kill myself if I have to write this for one more second I'm so sorry but I will kill myself I want their relationhip to progress naturally and slowly but also I will kill myself if I have to actually write the progression because it will take a long (haha more like log) time but if I just have them do the Cheetah Courting Ritual I will also kill myself because that is not how partholomew and log courted and If I progress it naturally I will be finished with the Parlog fan fiction in 2027 because I have no idea how to put Parlog into a written format without it taking until 2027 I hate parlog I hate you all for making me write parlog we are going to go into Partholomew's POV now here's what happened -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCUsBTFuWgI <- in between i hope this will be a good substitute parlog fan fiction until part 2 comes out. @everybody I hate everything and you parlog fan ficgtion but in video format coming 2025 or 2026 early 202026 is when the the parlog part 2 will be out guys @everbod
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Partholomew said the last of her goodbyes and began picking her way back along the path, stealing a glance back once she’d reached the top of the hill and throwing up some awkward ambiguous gesture when she was met with the sight of Log still exactly where he was with a beaming face and an eager wave. Poor guy.
This wasn’t her first rodeo. For the most part, at least. It was first job she worked alone though. Usually their targets had something to make them more... apt. The decision was more or less made on their own, no meddling necessary. This guy though, there was nothing on him. A couple documents, sure, but not much else. It was strange. She felt it fair to assume someone as high-priority as this would have something to their name, made the front page at least once. Not him, apparently. A part of her found it curious. Wanted to learn more about this enigma and his oddly alluring way of life. Regardless, she figured getting attached wouldn’t do anybody any good.
Blazing red and pink streaked across the sky, broken up here and there by broad strokes of purplish blue clouds. She could think of something else that was pink and purplish blue. Breathing a sigh, she leaned against the trunk and poured over the day. Log was sweet. He was really, really sweet. In the end, though, just a number. Besides, she wasn’t about to go making exceptions now of all times, not when they were this close. Him, a couple more targets up in Publixburg, and they’d be home free. Just a couple more targets.
THUD!
Parthy spun around, hand flying towards her Tholomew Knife Holster. A squint, a blink, and relaxed shoulders as the figure straightened into a familiar someone, cape littered with foliage from his trip up in the trees.
"You know, I’d really appreciate it if you quit doing that," she gritted.
A slight dip of the head was all the acknowledgement Jerry gave. "You get anything on him?"
"Likes bicycle cards,” Parthy readjusted the bag on her shoulder and collected her thoughts, both tousled from the platypus’s grand entrance, "grew up down in Treesville, by the river. Didn’t mention any parents, though that might’ve just been ‘cause they didn’t need to come up. Nothing groundbreaking, 'fraid."
He nodded along, idly surveying the village. "And?"
"And we're meeting up tomorrow at Two Time's. But you already knew that, yeah?”
"Semi-aquatic."
"Mm, figured."
“Jartholomew’s down in the ‘combs. Last I checked, at least. I told him we’d reconvene here,” he furrowed his brows, eyes still sweeping around. “Not sure what’s taking him so long.”
“Here? Out in the open?” They weren’t exactly front page phenomena – not anymore, at least – but it still felt weird to discuss their plans out in broad daylight.
Jerry shimmied to the left and clopped the ground twice with his foot, producing a hollow sound. “New hideout.” Oh freak yeah, she thought.
“Oh freak yeah,” she said.
The platypus opened his mouth to start talking again, but something behind her stole his attention. "Ah, there he is."
She turned her head to gander, and sure enough, there the hatted bro was.
Jartholomew trotted up in a half-jog, humming the final notes of some suburban tune, and quirked an expectant brow at the two once he came to a stop. On cue, Jerry heaved open the trapdoor as conspicuously as he could and scanned around for any onlookers while the siblings filed in, before dropping down himself.
The hideout hole had been expertly carved out by their designated hideout-hole-carver-outer, and lit candles had been scattered across the floor.
"Nothing we don’t already know,” Jerry informed once he settled himself.
“Aw, come on, don’t give me that. Spent-” Jartholomew glanced down at his Tholomew Wrist Watch, “-how many hours with him and you don’t even have anything to show for it?”
“His trust, I guess. Which is what we were aiming for in the first place.”
Her brother let out a light huff at that. "Right... Well, Treesville, hm? If he thought it was important enough to bring it up, maybe we could do something with that. You know anything about Treesville?"
Jerry paused, gears visibly turning, before he responded, “Hemmington’s co-worker was an arborist, if I remember correctly. I’ll see what I can get out of her."
“Gotta say,” Parthy chimed, “I don’t think we need an encyclopedia of data for this one. It’s just convincing him, yeah? Of one thing or another.”
“Sure, yeah, ‘course. But it wouldn’t hurt to speed up the process a little. You know, ‘Hey, Loggy boy! Here’s a handmade gift of that, eh, thing you like from that place you like!’” Jartholomew drawled with batted lashes.
“...So just, basic- All I’m saying is, this isn’t some high-stakes, life-or-death operation. I’ll cozy up to him for a couple weeks, months, tell him some sweet nothings, and hopefully that’ll be good enough. And if it isn’t, I don’t think there’s much going up from there,” Parthy clasped her hands on her lap. “I know he’s high priority and all, but I don’t want to get so methodical he starts to suspect something’s up. And doing a deep dive on his hometown kind of feels like we’re treading those waters.”
Jartholomew rolled his eyes with a scoff. “I mean, obviously not like that. You're a smart cookie, just use a little finesse.”
Or I could just treat him like a person. Parthy pressed her eyes shut, drew in a breath, and let her Parthy fumes fizzle out internally. The plan was more important. "Alright," she breathed. "Alright, fine. Do whatever you have to."
The three of them start cackling evilly I can' I they12415131231231231233331Log, the most loggish person I know... When a zephyr rolls along and stirs his Log hair, I find myself ever enraptured by his pulchritudinous beauteousness. Tick-checks and stargazing and playing cards together. This is the life I want, and to live it with him would be something far more than a dream come true. To take care of and be taken care of, to cherish him each day and be cherished. Every still moment, hustle and bustle, overwhelming or bored out of our minds, I wouldn't have it any other way. Cicada song, cacophonous as it is, making itself a staple of our evenings and leaving us making up our own melodies in its absence come autumn. I;ve;a;a;aa;a;;a;a010239092309`01`030``3120`102`9130`31`130`13-``-13`-3`103`130`130`130`130`130`193`813`13`930 I've done so much wrong, but I'll make up for it one day at a time.@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
time skip "Log" says parthy log wake up log
Huh what is it? parthy? hey, is everything okay? log says concernedly
parthy grabs log by the arm "we have to get out of here we have to get you out of here
"what"
"dont even pack yourthings log come on just log " parthy says she pulls him out and starts walking briskly
log "parthy whats going on parthy PARTHY PLEASE WHATS WRONG log says concernedly
parthy looks around her in a panic one might even say she looks around in an anxiety Log i there's a lot i haven't told you about me
log worry "party?
"i'll tell you everything all thats important right now is getting you to safety (oh my gosh i never should've said anything to them oh no oh gosh)"
Parthy halts in her tracks as she hears the sound of a Tholomew (J EDITION) Gun loading and starts running with log
BANG!
...
...
no
no!
NO
PARTHY
PARTTR
dont play on the ice
PARTHY NO
PAAAAAAAAAA
...
Oh my stars, you're awake!
2i give up Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log Log