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Author's note: Hey everyone. This was initially going to be my entry for the October 2017 Week 2 Prompt, but I was having a really hard time making it longer. So instead of submitting it as an official entry, I figured I'd submit it here so I could still at least share it with the community. My three Grems, who are the main characters in this piece, are Gaudi: sta.sh/0evydjum1z8 , Sybil: sta.sh/0i3xb0qq8zc , and Bisque: sta.sh/094t4pngi5t .

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“So, wait? What are you supposed to be again?” Sybil squinted at Gaudi, tilting her head to the side and scratching the pink tuft of fur on her cheek. “It's like a gothic deer, or...?” As she spoke, her fingers guided a needle and thread through gray felt. Glue, fabric scraps, and spools of thread littered the table she sat behind.

“Niilo Ahonen,” Gaudi said, trying to squeeze himself into one of Dayton's old band shirts. “He's the drummer from Blood Elk.”

Bisque sniggered behind Gaudi as he pounded some dough against a counter top and chewed on his cigarette. Near him, an industrial oven was preheating, chasing the autumnal evening chill from the small bakery.

“Problem there, Bisque?” Gaudi turned to his assistant and scowled, the shirt bunching up and letting Gaudi's flabby, furry gut spill out.

The cigarette swiveled from one side of Bisque's mouth to the other. His facial feelers wriggled behind the plume of smoke. “'Blood Elk,'” he grunted. “What kinda stupid, edge-lord bullshit is that?”

“They're a metal band.” Gaudi's pupils narrowed. “They're supposed to sound edgy.”

“Mm.” Bisque's long ears, which he had tied back behind his head, twitched.

“They're Dayton's favorite,” Gaudi added, puffing out his chest and pulling off the ill-fitting shirt. “They're my favorite.”

“Okay.” Bisque rolled the dough into a thin cylinders, sprinkled them with flour, then began to shape them into small knots. “I still think their name's stupid. We each got our opinions.”

“They're not stupid, though,” Gaudi growled, his ears flattening against his head. His eyes turned teal as his recessive green blood began to rush into his upper body to supplant the blue.

“Gaudi,” Sybil sighed, “are you sure you don't want to do the silverware group costume with us? You know, like we were originally going to?”

“So, you think they're stupid too,” Gaudi snarled.

“No, it's just...” She tapped a claw against the table. “You don't seem to be having much luck making the new costume, and you're getting worked up. It'd be easier to go back to Plan A. For all of us.”

“I'm not gonna let Dayton and his girlfriend come home and see me dressed like a spoon! He and I always went as Blood Elk. The past three years. It'll embarrass him if I'm a friggin' spoon. Can you imagine?” Gaudi began to pantomime and raise his voice and octave to sound like Dayton. “'Hey Girlfriend, look at my really cool, total badass Grem uncle. He's the one scooping ice cream with his face!'” Gaudi huffed and looked right at Bisque when he mentioned ice cream. Bisque's brow furrowed, but he pretended not to hear. Sybil turned and crossed one leg over the other, clenching her talons in frustration.

“You thought the silverware was a great idea right up until yesterday.”

“That's 'cause I didn't think Dayton would see it.”

With a snort and a shake of her head, Sybil turned back to her sewing. “It would've been nice to know you were gonna be a horse's ass, oh I'm sorry, Blood Elk, before I spent two days making your costume.”

“Yeah, well, no one told you to start working on it.”

“Bisque!” Sybil called across the bakery counter, choosing to ignore Gaudi. “Come try on this headpiece. I think I've finally got the earholes right.”

Pouting like a child, Gaudi sat on the black-and-white-checkered floor and began to fiddle with a pair of cardboard antlers.

“Sure,” Bisque said. “Lemme just get these into the oven.”

The room fell into a pregnant, electric silence as Bisque hefted two metal trays into the oven. Wiping his hands on his apron, the pinkish Grem put out his cigarette and walked out from behind the counter. He stepped right over Gaudi's tail as he approached Sybil.

“You're not supposed to be smoking in here,” Gaudi said curtly, glaring up at his assistant.

“Yeah, shoulda told me that 'fore I finished my cigarette,” Bisque replied with a shrug. He took a hand-sewn hood shaped like a knife blade from Sybil and slipped it over his head; he poked his ears through a slot in the back. “How's it look? Am I looking 'sharp'?”

“Boo...” Gaudi stuck out his tongue like he was about to gag and made a thumbs-down. “And you called me stupid.”

“No one actually called you stupid, Gaudi.” Sybil wrinkled her snout. “You're acting like a child.” She adjusted Bisque's hood and stepped back to admire her work.

“He looks like a gray banana,” Gaudi muttered. He tried to make himself look busy with a box of unopened make-up. “Ow!”

“Oops,” Bisque said with a grin, lifting his foot off of Gaudi's tail. “I must've slipped on my own peel.”

With puffed cheeks and eyes like furious limes, Gaudi flailed to his feet. The makeup and antlers clattered across the floor and collided with a dessert case. Snarling loudly, Gaudi grabbed hold of one of Bisque's facial feelers.

“You did that on purpose!” Gaudi yelled. Bisque's tail waved from side as he tried to keep his balance. Sybil brought the palm of her hand to her face. “Just 'cause your humans didn't want you doesn't mean you have to insult mine!”

Bisque's other feelers writhed and corkscrewed, but his expression remained calm.

“I'm not insulting Dayton, and I'm not insulting his mom neither.”

“Yeah, you are, if you think I'd just ignore him, ignore our traditions, to make things easier for you!” Gaudi stomped his foot, and scratched his talons against the floor tiles. “He needs me to show him nothing's changed!”

Bisque grabbed Gaudi's wrist and wrenched his boss's hand off his feelers. “Listen, boss. You're being a dick. Quit it.”

“You're a dick,” Gaudi whined, trying to break free of Bisque's grip, but finding himself unable to, despite being the larger Grem. “I should fire you.”

“You an' I both know you ain't gonna do that. I drive the truck too good. Just apologize to Sybil, finish your Blood Elk costume, and stop friggin' pouting. This was supposed to be fun.” By now, the room was beginning to smell like sweet baking dough. “She's the one should be mad at you for changin' things last minute. You don't see her bein' a prick about it. Least not till you gave her reason to.”

Feeling vindicated, Sybil nodded.

“We understand that Dayton's important to you,” she said, taking back the knife hood and placing it on the table. “You were an absolute wreck after he left for school. You've been together since he was a baby. We get it. But he's not all you have anymore. And vice versa.” Sybil met Gaudi's eyes. “You have us. He has his girlfriend. You can't keep looking backward.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Gaudi looked at the floor and frowned. “You get to see your human every night. I only get to see Dayton every few weeks. It has to be perfect; he has to know I haven't forgotten him...”

“He knows you haven't, Gaudi.” Sybil pretended not to notice the tears welling in her friend's eyes. She put a hand on Gaudi's shoulder. “He's a smart kid. How do you think he got into college?”

After a moment of silence, Gaudi sniffled and tried to pass it off as a sneeze.

“If you guys are really married to the whole fork-spoon-knife thing,” he said quietly, “I guess I could have two costumes... Like, one for the party, and one for when Dayton gets home...”

“I got an even better idea,” Bisque chuckled. “How 'bout you take this?” He pulled the knife hood down over Gaudi's head. “You can be Mr. Edgy Blood Knife, and I'll be the soup spoon.”

Gaudi thought a moment, twisting his neck so his scruff fluff would fit into the hood more comfortably.

“Do we have fake blood we could put on it?”

“I know how to make fake blood,” Sybil replied. “I've had to do it for some of my human's performance pieces.”

“Okay, then!” Gaudi smiled. “I think that could work!”

Sweating a little... — Description
Author's note: Hey everyone. This was initially going to be my entry for the October 2017 Week 2 Prompt, but I was having a really hard time making it longer. So instead of submitting it as an official entry, I figured I'd submit it here so I could still at least share it with the community. My three Grems, who are the main characters in this piece, are Gaudi: sta.sh/0evydjum1z8 , Sybil: sta.sh/0i3xb0qq8zc , and Bisque: sta.sh/094t4pngi5t .

**************************************************************************************************

“So, wait? What are you supposed to be again?” Sybil squinted at Gaudi, tilting her head to the side and scratching the pink tuft of fur on her cheek. “It's like a gothic deer, or...?” As she spoke, her fingers guided a needle and thread through gray felt. Glue, fabric scraps, and spools of thread littered the table she sat behind.

“Niilo Ahonen,” Gaudi said, trying to squeeze himself into one of Dayton's old band shirts. “He's the drummer from Blood Elk.”

Bisque sniggered behind Gaudi as he pounded some dough against a counter top and chewed on his cigarette. Near him, an industrial oven was preheating, chasing the autumnal evening chill from the small bakery.

“Problem there, Bisque?” Gaudi turned to his assistant and scowled, the shirt bunching up and letting Gaudi's flabby, furry gut spill out.

The cigarette swiveled from one side of Bisque's mouth to the other. His facial feelers wriggled behind the plume of smoke. “'Blood Elk,'” he grunted. “What kinda stupid, edge-lord bullshit is that?”

“They're a metal band.” Gaudi's pupils narrowed. “They're supposed to sound edgy.”

“Mm.” Bisque's long ears, which he had tied back behind his head, twitched.

“They're Dayton's favorite,” Gaudi added, puffing out his chest and pulling off the ill-fitting shirt. “They're my favorite.”

“Okay.” Bisque rolled the dough into a thin cylinders, sprinkled them with flour, then began to shape them into small knots. “I still think their name's stupid. We each got our opinions.”

“They're not stupid, though,” Gaudi growled, his ears flattening against his head. His eyes turned teal as his recessive green blood began to rush into his upper body to supplant the blue.

“Gaudi,” Sybil sighed, “are you sure you don't want to do the silverware group costume with us? You know, like we were originally going to?”

“So, you think they're stupid too,” Gaudi snarled.

“No, it's just...” She tapped a claw against the table. “You don't seem to be having much luck making the new costume, and you're getting worked up. It'd be easier to go back to Plan A. For all of us.”

“I'm not gonna let Dayton and his girlfriend come home and see me dressed like a spoon! He and I always went as Blood Elk. The past three years. It'll embarrass him if I'm a friggin' spoon. Can you imagine?” Gaudi began to pantomime and raise his voice and octave to sound like Dayton. “'Hey Girlfriend, look at my really cool, total badass Grem uncle. He's the one scooping ice cream with his face!'” Gaudi huffed and looked right at Bisque when he mentioned ice cream. Bisque's brow furrowed, but he pretended not to hear. Sybil turned and crossed one leg over the other, clenching her talons in frustration.

“You thought the silverware was a great idea right up until yesterday.”

“That's 'cause I didn't think Dayton would see it.”

With a snort and a shake of her head, Sybil turned back to her sewing. “It would've been nice to know you were gonna be a horse's ass, oh I'm sorry, Blood Elk, before I spent two days making your costume.”

“Yeah, well, no one told you to start working on it.”

“Bisque!” Sybil called across the bakery counter, choosing to ignore Gaudi. “Come try on this headpiece. I think I've finally got the earholes right.”

Pouting like a child, Gaudi sat on the black-and-white-checkered floor and began to fiddle with a pair of cardboard antlers.

“Sure,” Bisque said. “Lemme just get these into the oven.”

The room fell into a pregnant, electric silence as Bisque hefted two metal trays into the oven. Wiping his hands on his apron, the pinkish Grem put out his cigarette and walked out from behind the counter. He stepped right over Gaudi's tail as he approached Sybil.

“You're not supposed to be smoking in here,” Gaudi said curtly, glaring up at his assistant.

“Yeah, shoulda told me that 'fore I finished my cigarette,” Bisque replied with a shrug. He took a hand-sewn hood shaped like a knife blade from Sybil and slipped it over his head; he poked his ears through a slot in the back. “How's it look? Am I looking 'sharp'?”

“Boo...” Gaudi stuck out his tongue like he was about to gag and made a thumbs-down. “And you called me stupid.”

“No one actually called you stupid, Gaudi.” Sybil wrinkled her snout. “You're acting like a child.” She adjusted Bisque's hood and stepped back to admire her work.

“He looks like a gray banana,” Gaudi muttered. He tried to make himself look busy with a box of unopened make-up. “Ow!”

“Oops,” Bisque said with a grin, lifting his foot off of Gaudi's tail. “I must've slipped on my own peel.”

With puffed cheeks and eyes like furious limes, Gaudi flailed to his feet. The makeup and antlers clattered across the floor and collided with a dessert case. Snarling loudly, Gaudi grabbed hold of one of Bisque's facial feelers.

“You did that on purpose!” Gaudi yelled. Bisque's tail waved from side as he tried to keep his balance. Sybil brought the palm of her hand to her face. “Just 'cause your humans didn't want you doesn't mean you have to insult mine!”

Bisque's other feelers writhed and corkscrewed, but his expression remained calm.

“I'm not insulting Dayton, and I'm not insulting his mom neither.”

“Yeah, you are, if you think I'd just ignore him, ignore our traditions, to make things easier for you!” Gaudi stomped his foot, and scratched his talons against the floor tiles. “He needs me to show him nothing's changed!”

Bisque grabbed Gaudi's wrist and wrenched his boss's hand off his feelers. “Listen, boss. You're being a dick. Quit it.”

“You're a dick,” Gaudi whined, trying to break free of Bisque's grip, but finding himself unable to, despite being the larger Grem. “I should fire you.”

“You an' I both know you ain't gonna do that. I drive the truck too good. Just apologize to Sybil, finish your Blood Elk costume, and stop friggin' pouting. This was supposed to be fun.” By now, the room was beginning to smell like sweet baking dough. “She's the one should be mad at you for changin' things last minute. You don't see her bein' a prick about it. Least not till you gave her reason to.”

Feeling vindicated, Sybil nodded.

“We understand that Dayton's important to you,” she said, taking back the knife hood and placing it on the table. “You were an absolute wreck after he left for school. You've been together since he was a baby. We get it. But he's not all you have anymore. And vice versa.” Sybil met Gaudi's eyes. “You have us. He has his girlfriend. You can't keep looking backward.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Gaudi looked at the floor and frowned. “You get to see your human every night. I only get to see Dayton every few weeks. It has to be perfect; he has to know I haven't forgotten him...”

“He knows you haven't, Gaudi.” Sybil pretended not to notice the tears welling in her friend's eyes. She put a hand on Gaudi's shoulder. “He's a smart kid. How do you think he got into college?”

After a moment of silence, Gaudi sniffled and tried to pass it off as a sneeze.

“If you guys are really married to the whole fork-spoon-knife thing,” he said quietly, “I guess I could have two costumes... Like, one for the party, and one for when Dayton gets home...”

“I got an even better idea,” Bisque chuckled. “How 'bout you take this?” He pulled the knife hood down over Gaudi's head. “You can be Mr. Edgy Blood Knife, and I'll be the soup spoon.”

Gaudi thought a moment, twisting his neck so his scruff fluff would fit into the hood more comfortably.

“Do we have fake blood we could put on it?”

“I know how to make fake blood,” Sybil replied. “I've had to do it for some of my human's performance pieces.”

“Okay, then!” Gaudi smiled. “I think that could work!”