#I want to rework it still but I had an idea in the past for a slugcat merry

[anomaly-beans]

ur familiar with rain world right. ive got an important question here for u. what slugcats would merry and kittie main

Ooh good question. I don't know as much about how the gameplay feels and works for most of the downpour ones, but out of pure instinct... for Merry I think they'd like Survivor, Hunter, Spearmaster and maybeeeee Rivulet?

Kittie is so easy though. I know that she'd go for Artificer. She craves the violence-

[1427]

something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove. 

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar. 

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost. 

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be? 

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room. 

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief. 

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.” 

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh. 

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.” 

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?” 

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room. 

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway. 

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there. 

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else. 

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet. 

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl. 

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence. 

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything. 

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end. 

Why won’t he look? 

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing. 

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward. 

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.” 

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.” 

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally. 

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know. 

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more. 

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady. 

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him. 

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing. 

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.  

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground. 

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?” 

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all. 

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do. 

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile. 

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going. 

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot. 

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly. 

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them. 

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more. 

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him. 

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans. 

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened. 

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him. 

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water. 

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

 You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person. 

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room. 

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?” 

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’. 

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth. 

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant. 

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body. 

He needed more. He needed to watch you again. 

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that. 

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him. 

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you. 

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained. 

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly. 

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own. 

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good. 

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on. 

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t. 

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you. 

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

[diminuel]

Crocodad analysis~

I've finished my reread of Impel Down and Marineford and spent most of today typing up this Crocodile analysis applying Crocodad theory ;3

Under the cut I went through Iva's threats, what info we have on when they met and what Iva might have done for him, then I go on to track Crocodile across the battlefield of Marineford. It's just text, no images, but it does have the chapters mentioned so you can go check it out.

I tried to structure these 3000 words a bit but don’t expect a clean essay.

Also, there is nothing new under the sun, I'm sure all of his has been said before by Crocodad scholars, I'm just sorting through it for myself.

(Disclaimer: I read an English scanlation so there’s a chance that there is a mistranslation or missing nuance.)

Iva’s powers

I'm generally someone who likes to work within the parameters provided by canon. But in terms of Iva's power I have been letting fandom (which displays an interest in a more real world depiction of transitioning) guide me more than canon. But Iva’s powers are not a reflection of the real world (other than maybe wishes that it could be so easy), neither do they even try to be.

Iva says that they can rework a person from the "inside out" (chapter 538) and there doesn't seem to be much of a limit to what they can do to someone’s body, apart from the cost of the healing powers.

If we go with the idea that Iva used their powers on Crocodile, it's likely that it would have been an instant effect. Therefore, the potential switch from female to male would have been complete and it would have been a one time application of Iva’s powers. Since we know what Crocodile looked like as a child, we know that they did not completely change his appearance.

The blackmail

When Luffy protests the suggestion that they free Crocodile, Iva says that they knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540) and that they are aware of one of Crocodile’s weaknesses which they will use against him/ reveal if he betrays them. Let’s first look at this secret weakness.

Since I have seen it mentioned before, I checked out the vivre card information that has been provided by thelibraryofohara (https://thelibraryofohara.com/2019/01/12/vivre-card-databook-vol-5-all-the-new-information/) in the January 2019 card releases. I quote:

“[Crocodile]’s got a “weakness” when it comes to his past that he can’t oppose. He definitely owes something that Ivankov gave him.”

I don’t know if the word choice is a matter of translation but it is rather ambiguous. That weakness is in quotation implies that it is most likely not an actual physical weakness like his weakness to water. Instead, it might be comparable to how Dragon calls Luffy his weakness. Additionally, what does “oppose” mean in the context of a weakness? Does it mean that if Iva revealed it, he would have no chance to refute it. Does it mean that the weakness is of such a nature that Crocodile would do what he can to avoid Iva from saying it? Maybe both? Considering the context the threat was uttered in, this would mean that he will not betray Iva and Luffy’s interests. (Which he doesn’t. When he goes off to attack WB and Luffy stops him, he calmly states that they had an arrangement (chapter 557). While Luffy forbids him from touching WB, Iva doesn’t threaten him into obedience, so Crocodile does pursue his attack on WB once Luffy is gone.)

Continuing with the vivre card quote, there’s also the fact that Crocodile owes something that Iva gave him – which can either mean that Iva gave him something that he’ll have to give back or that Crocodile has something that he only has thanks to Iva. I assume it’s the latter. What could Iva possibly have to give to Crocodile more than 20 years ago that Crocodile doesn’t want to be known (and can expect not to be known unless Iva shares it)? And, maybe more importantly, is it something that Iva can take back?

I am going to say yes, a reveal of the secret might as well come with Iva taking back what he has given Crocodile. Considering that Crocodile in prison has pretty much nothing but his hook, we can assume that what Iva gave this young pirate just starting out, was something to do with their powers. A change to his body in one way or another which of course means that Iva can undo it, revealing things about Crocodile that he doesn’t want to be known.

Considering what we’ve seen Iva’s power do, it does not take a big stretch of the imagination to wonder if he might have been a girl in the past. There’s of course the option that Crocodile has always been a boy, aware of his transness from the beginning. But even if that wasn’t the case, there are other reasons to want to change. The seas of One Piece are tricky to navigate and while there are successful female pirates, we have also been shown certain limitations and prejudices. How was it nearly 30 years ago, when Crocodile was just starting out? When there were pirates such as WB who would not have women on his crew? What did other men’s limited faith in a girl’s capabilities do to a teenager who wanted to chase her dreams? But that’s another layer of speculation. Let’s just assume that Iva gave Crocodile the body he now has.

Timeline

The complete female to male switch makes sense with Iva’s skills as I’ve mentioned above, but the timing is arguably tricky for Crocodad purposes. To repeat: Iva knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540). It’s unclear to me whether Iva’s comment that they know Crocodile “a little” is meant to be taken as an understatement and they do know each other well or if we should take it at face value. But even the offered time “when you could still call him a rookie” is very vague.

If they only knew each other when Crocodile was a rookie, then Iva would most likely have used their powers on Crocodile back then, turning him before he had properly ended up on the marine’s radar and before he could have had Luffy. What exactly counts as Crocodile’s rookie years isn’t particularly clear. At this point in the manga we do not know anything about Crocodile – his age, how long he’s been a Warlord, when he used to be a rookie, etc. However, we do know now that he became a Warlord in his 20s and challenged Whitebeard and lost to him shortly after (SBS, Volume 78). So his rookie years must refer to the time before that where “similar to Luffy (…) Crocodile's name spread across the seas with incredible momentum.” (SBS, Volume 78) It’s possible that at that time, due to the vastness of the ocean and the slower spread of news, people in general did not know what he looked like (even 30 years on it took a while for all the Strawhat crewmembers to get recognizable bounty posters). Due to that it’s possible that the meeting with Iva could have taken place during the time that he was gaining fame, but before he really got on he marine’s radar enough to make him a Warlord in his early 20s.

Interestingly (for me), around the same time as Crocodile’s was starting out, Iva and Dragon gained notoriety with their Freedom Fighter group (according to the Wiki’s timeline, it became the Revolutionary Army after the Ohara Incident, when Crocodile was 24), so it is likely that when Iva and Crocodile knew each other, Crocodile also met Dragon. (He might even have been part of the Freedom Fighters, but I think if his name was spread across the sea in connection to the Freedom Fighters, a link between Crocodile, Iva and Dragon would have been mentioned or taken into consideration by Sengoku. Sengoku did know of the history between Crocodile and WB and thought it would work in their favor. If he knew about a potential connection between Crocodile and Luffy – via Iva and Dragon – he would have been more wary I assume.)

As an aside, how did they even meet? Did Crocodile hear about Iva’s powers and seek them out? Was their meeting purely by chance and Crocodile seized the moment?

Long story short, if Iva only knew Crocodile while he was still a rookie and used their powers on him then, it would have been years before Luffy was conceived.

However! One could argue that Iva did not have the same control over their powers 20 years ago as they do now, so that the change was mostly external, affecting how Crocodile presented without changing him “inside out.” Which would still have meant that he could get pregnant if Dragon and Crocodile continued seeing each other (or at least saw each other one more time, 19 years ago.)

Now, since Crocodile at Marineford is somewhat of a part 2 of the Crocodile theories, I kept my Crocodad goggles on.

A look of Crocodile’s movement across the battlefield

One of the main arguments for Crocodad are his actions on the battlefield. Judged by the reactions of the other characters, all of Crocodile’s actions on the battle field of Marineford apart from his attack on WB are surprising.

The reason we are given by Crocodile for joining the prison break is that he wants to take Whitebeard’s head. (Crocodile could have escaped from the holding prison, but chose to go to Impel Down instead. However, Iva claims in chapter 538 that Crocodile isn’t too happy about ending up in level six.)

We know from the above mentioned SBS that Crocodile challenged WB shortly after he received his Warlord title. During this battle Crocodile was “completely and utterly crushed by him.” Whether that defeat is the main motivation to challenge him is unclear.

Just like he announced, the first thing that Crocodile does after posing for a group shot, is to go straight for Whitebeard’s head.

So far so predictable.

What are often seen as hints for Crocodad is a series of events that go like this: Dragon is revealed to be Luffy’s father (chapter 558). Everybody and their pet clown gets to have a reaction shot to that, but Crocodile does not. Crocodile is one of the first after Luffy to charge into the plaza after they’ve got the siege walls up and stops Ace’s execution (chapter 566.) He orders Daz to protect Luffy and one Daz is down he himself stops Mihawk from attacking Luffy (chapter 570). After Ace’s death he steps in between Akainu and Jinbei, making Luffy’s escape possible (chapter 578). He eventually joins a line of Whitebeard pirates to protect Luffy.

Now, Crocodile’s change of plans doesn’t present as an instant switch the moment Sengoku announces who Luffy’s father is. While he might have had an off-screen “oh shit, that’s my baby” reaction, it didn’t immediately make him drop everything to protect him.

I do of course believe that Luffy IS his baby because I find joy in that, but I generally see Crocodile as a pragmatic character. On one hand there is Luffy, a reckless but resilient kid that shares his blood (that he spilled and Luffy used against him) that is charging across a battlefield with a group of people protecting him. On the other hand here is Whitebeard right in front of him and other than the baby that has slipped out of his fingers, he held on to that grudge for 20 years.

Tracking Crocodile across the battlefield leaves plenty of gaps, but it still offers insights into why he changes direction. I’m presenting it here and then we can think if this hurts or helps the Crocodad agenda.

Tracking Crocodile

As mentioned the first thing we see him do on the battle field is to go for Whitebeard who is on the ship next to them. Luffy stops him and then he is approached by Whitebeard pirates, their weapons drawn. Luffy then leaves and takes the point of view away with him. When we see Crocodile again, two chapters after the reveal that Luffy is Dragon’s son, he is on the ice in front of Whitebeard’s ship. He must have been pushed back or retreated to join up with Daz, as they are fighting off masses of WB pirates, trying to get closer to the man himself. After he sends a lot of them flying with a sandstorm he is stopped by Yozu. The force of the attack makes him fly back (he is injured and loses his cigar) where he lands right next to Doflamingo. The man is of course not passing up the opportunity to be chaotic – he stops Yozu and asks Crocodile to join up with him which Crocodile rejects (chapter 560 – 561). When we next see him he is fighting off some invisible force (most likely more WB pirates) but at least he has a new cigar.

When WB is stabbed in chapter 563 he is still on the ice in front of WB’s ship. He has an agitated reaction, revealing that he has lost to Whitebeard in the past (“I didn’t lose to such a weak man!!!”)

Even though Sengoku tries to get the other fleets under WB’s command to turn against him, WB proves his integrity and power. And he also gives a speech about how even if he is attacked by his son, he still loves him and he also explains that the son does not bear the sins of the father. It is either this absolute display of love and appreciation of his sons no matter whose blood they have and what they do OR it is his display of power and integrity that Crocodile reacts to, visibly distressed, but no longer showing the explosive shock and anger of his previous outburst (I’m not horrible at reading facial expressions but I’m not great at describing them. Look for yourselves in chapter 563). Also, following right after the panel showing Crocodile’s face we get Whitebeard thinking to himself: “A “weak man,” am I…? What an insolent man… I’m only one man, with one heart… And you’re the same… They call me a demon and a monster… But I won’t always be the “strongest” out there…!!! If I can bring one young life into the future, isn’t that enough…!?” And then he joins the battle.

He now focuses on bringing that young life into the future (saving Ace) and this is the point where Crocodile’s unusual actions start. After a talk about unconditional love for his sons and the statement that protecting a son is worth much more than being the strongest. Could Crocodile too have decided that protecting Luffy (his son?) and Luffy’s interests is more important than his grudge against Whitebeard?

The answer seems to be yes, because in chapter 566 he is the first one to follow Luffy across the siege wall and into the plaza where Ace’s execution was supposed to happen. And he stops it after Luffy is pushed back by the Admirals. The reason he gives to Sengoku for his unexpected action is that he “wants to wipe the smile from your faces.” After Doflamingo chops off Crocodile’s head they engage in a fight.

It is after Luffy uses conqueror’s Haki, which again seems to confirm his relation to Dragon, WB gives the order for everyone to support Luffy in chapter 570. Whether Crocodile has chosen to follow Whitebeard’s lead or if he is acting for himself, he gave Daz the order to protect Luffy. Daz stops Mihawk’s attack and once Mihawk cuts him down and goes for Luffy again, Crocodile is there to stop him and allow Luffy to continue one. He must have shaken off Doflamingo in the meantime.

And then Ace and Whitebeard die (chapters 574 and 576 respectively).

And while the battlefield descends into further chaos and Luffy is unable to protect himself, we get a panel of Crocodile (chapter 577), apparently standing still in the chaos that is around him. He does not seem to face the same way as the retreating WB forces or the Warlords and Pacifista in pursuit of the retreating pirates. Maybe he is looking at Whitebeard one last time.

And then he’s off, apparently crossing the entire battlefield in an instant to stop Akainu from dealing Luffy the killing blow. And after that he gets physically between Akainu and Jinbei and Luffy before he sends them flying out of reach with his sands (chapter 578.) He yells the order for someone to grab them and get them to a ship, followed by one of my favourite lines directed at Jinbei who has tasked himself with protecting Luffy: “If you want to protect something, do it right!!!” Since we generally speculate that Luffy’s parents (or Dragon at least) chose to sacrifice their chance of raising Luffy in order to protect him from exactly what is happening on this battlefield, that line suits the Crocodad theory well. Whether Crocodile left behind his child to protect it from being punished for the sins of his fathers or if he left him behind because a child would get in the way of his ambitions, right in this moment protecting Luffy is all that matters.

He then joins a group of Whitebeard pirates, forming a protective barrier against Akainu. Akainu taunts them that all of them are willing to give their lives for Luffy. Marco repeats what Whitebeard thought earlier: they will see this boy off into the new age.

All of these actions could also simply point towards Crocodile maybe having been part of Whitebeards crew at one time, but the timeline has some difficulties. It does not seem like anyone who is on the crew now treats him like they knew him or at one point cared about him like a brother. We have also not seen Crocodile or someone who looked like him in the Wano flashbacks. Teach, who joined when he was 12 (and Crocodile would have been 18) doesn’t seem to know him as a crewmate either. If he ever was on WB’s crew, he would have left as a young teenager. (And as a sidenote, WB was an old-fashioned guy, he did not want any women on his crew apart from medical staff. This would not have been a good environment for Crocodile if he had been a girl before meeting Iva. And he clearly was making a name for himself as a rookie without being attached to WB’s crew.)

It could also symbolize how great of a pirate Whitebeard was that even Crocodile, bearing a grudge against him, shows him respect by following his orders. But that seems a little bit boring to me.

That said, I do think a Crocodad reading of his actions is rewarding.

After this battle we also get to see Crocodile read about Luffy’s actions so he clearly is interested in him now. And there’s this great exchange between Daz and Crocodile in chapter 593 where Daz comments that Luffy’s scars take a while to fade which Crocodile takes as a comment on his own (old) wounds. Crocodile insists that his scars are “fully healed” and that he’s ready to return to the New World now. He has put the old wounds of his youth to rest, he is ready to return to tackle the New World once again.

And maybe any wounds and scars left on him regarding Luffy’s birth have started to heal too. The kid will be fine.

If you read through all of this you have my respect X’D

And if you have comments, additions and objections let me know~

[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 1)

Part 2 Part 3

You are an imp with a mysterious past who recently moved in to the Hazbin Hotel. Not necessarily to be redeemed like a sinner, but you are seeking some sort of redemption. Helluva Boss characters will be heavily involved in the story in future parts, but for now... you just have your memories.

Tags: Alastor x female reader, allusions to past Blitzø x female reader, angst, PTSD, panic attacks, eventual smut, I have no idea if there is an audience for this but I wanted it so maybe someone else will like it

wc: 3,018

This is from a female reader's perspective! If people like it, I'd be happy to write a male or GN counterpart. This was initially written for just me, but I like where its going so I thought I'd share it. Also, I've already written the next two chapters but I want to rework them because I want the story to go in a slightly different direction. So I def plan on continuing this! I also posted this on AO3, but I'm not sure where it will get the most traction. I'm still figuring out this whole posting my fanfiction thing, usually it just sits on my computer.

If you'd prefer to read it on AO3, the link is here.

Minors DNI!!!

Screams filled you with terror. The rumbling roar of the fire followed, but a high-pitched ringing overpowered it. The steady sound drowning out all the other clamor distracting you from finding help.

As everything around you burned, the temperature rose. Sweat collected on the nape of your neck and dripped down your forehead, obscuring your vision. Your nostrils flooded with the smell of ash and burning flesh. The scent was so pungent, it mixed with the metallic taste of blood on your tongue from when you bit into your lips.

You ran barefoot, trying your best to avoid shards of glass and the other broken things that lay at your feet. Flames danced around you, licking at the charred ribbons. The only remnants of the tents that once surrounded you.

Your breaths came out short as you panicked. Your entire body quivered when you allowed yourself to think you may never get out. You may never find help. May never see those you loved most again.

A loud screech rang through the air, breaking through the buzzing in your ears. It was only when it ceased that you felt the raggedness in your throat. And you realized that you had been the one to create the sound.

“Where are you right now?” The heated voice whispered against your cheek was so familiar, but also different. Not quite the voice of a childhood friend or a long lost lover.

His breath against your cheek hitched. “Where are you? What’s wrong?” Panic registered in his voice. He lifted his weight off of you but tears blurred your vision so you couldn’t see him.

“Fuck. Answer me damn it. You’re really freaking me out right now.” Even without his body pinning you to the bed, you couldn’t move. It felt like something invisible was holding you down.

A sharp pain blossomed across your chest. You tried to get words out between shallow breaths, but nothing ever came.

“It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.” Those were the last words you heard him say before it all went as black as ash.

Startled awake by a loud crashing noise, you sprang up in bed. Relief washed over you when you realized it was just another nightmare. A familiar nightmare, but a nightmare all the same.

You took in your hotel room that you had grown familiar with over the past few weeks as you collected yourself. But the sight of the red stains on your white sheets startled you, making you shove yourself out of bed and tumble to the floor.

You had just built up the nerve to stand up and investigate the bloody mess when someone slammed open your door.

“What was that sound?! Is everything okay?” It was Angel Dust, another resident at the hotel. His room was just across the hall so it made sense that he would investigate the cacophony of sounds coming from your room. But he was also quickly becoming someone you would consider a close friend, so you hoped his intrusion was a sign he cared.

“I-I fell out of bed.” You said the first thing that came to mind. Your head still foggy from sleep. Your simple response clearly did not work for the porn star whose mouth was agape as his eyes locked on your torso.

You looked down at your nightgown and saw it was soaked in blood. Deep gashes in the thin white material cut through the skin across your chest. Your mouth dropped open with a barely audible, “Oh.”

“Doll face, what happened?” Angel came up to your side and wrapped you in a side hug, attempting to comfort you without covering himself with blood in the process.

Your brain was taking its sweet time thinking of a response. Before you could get words out, two more faces peaked into your room. One belonged to Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell and the owner of the Hazbin Hotel where you were currently residing. The other was her girlfriend, Vaggie.

Both women looked like they had just woken up, still dressed in pajamas with their hair mussed from sleep. “We heard a noise. Is everything okay?” Vaggie asked as they tentatively let themselves into your room.

Seeing the worried looks on their faces seemed to jumpstart your brain a bit. At least enough for some semblance of words to come out of your mouth. “I’m okay, guys. I’m really okay. I must have scratched myself in my sleep, but the blood just startled me when I woke up so I fell off the bed.” Concerned looks were still plastered on all their faces. “I’m really sorry if I woke y’all up. I really need to file my claws.”

The buzz of radio static sent a shiver down your spine. Your body went stiff. You knew what that noise meant. He was near.

“What is all the commotion in here?” Alastor, the radio demon, appeared in the doorframe and welcomed himself into your room as if he was walking into a party. He twirled his microphone like a cane until he saw you in your disheveled state.

“My, my dear. What happened to you?” He said, his red eyes narrowing. His tongue darted out of the corner of his mouth, wetting his lips as his gaze rested on the blood splattered on your chest. It made your skin crawl.

“I was just telling everyone that I scratched myself in my sleep. I was just really startled when I woke up covered in blood. It’s really not a big deal.” Your skin flushed in embarrassment as you explained the story to the deer demon.

“You should use a nail file to prevent this sort of scene then.” You rolled your eyes at that comment, wondering if he had been listening in on the conversation before making his grand entrance. What a pompous tool, you thought.

“Is that it?” Charlie asked, looking at you sweetly with those huge of eyes of hers.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to get cleaned up. And maybe, Nifty wouldn’t mind cleaning my bedsheets. If not, I really don’t mind doing it.”

“No way,” Vaggie said. “It’s her job. You should take a bath and we’ll send her up to take care of the bed.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling at her. The angel could be cold towards you, but a part of you felt like the two of you could be good friends one day. It will just take some time to warm up to each other.

“Again, I’m really sorry if I woke any of you up. I used to scratch myself when I was younger but it’s been a while.” You tried to not let your mind wander to the last time this had happened in your sleep. “And there was just so much blood.”

“Nonsense!” Alastor chided. “Don’t your worry your pretty little head.” He tapped you with his microphone, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes. It made you feel like a child… and made you want to sink your claws into his grey skin. “I’ve been awake for hours.” He turned on his heels and waltzed out of the room, humming an upbeat tune on his way out.

Charlie reached her hand out yours, giving it a little squeeze before she and Vaggie left too. Angel was about join them, but you stopped him.

“Wait, Angie. Don’t leave.” You said, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts quite yet.

“Sure thing, toots. What’s up?”

You tried to think of something to say, but that was when Angel’s foot brushed up against a shard of glass on the floor. “Hey, what’s this?” He followed a trail of glass to a small broken picture frame. That must have been the crash that startled you from the nightmare.

Angel picked it up and scanned his eyes over the photograph. It was an Imp couple with beaming smiles, proudly holding their baby girl. “Aw, is this baby you and your parents?”

You nodded, tight lipped and too scared to let yourself speak.

“You’re so cute! Look at that lil’ baby tail. And your mom is gorgeous. You look just like her…” he squinted a bit, “But definitely with your dad’s eyes.”

“Thank you,” you responded politely.

Angel picked at the corner of the photograph and your stomach dropped. “Wait, is there another picture behind it? Can I see?”

You grabbed the picture frame from his hands. “No,” you growled. But seeing the hurt in the spider demon’s eyes made you feel horrible. “Uh, maybe later. I’ve got to wash all this blood off, but I’ll see you at breakfast.” You followed him out the door, locking it behind him.

Once it was just you in the room, you leaned on the back of the door sinking to your knees. You let the facade break and tears rolled down your cheeks as you carefully took the second photo out of the frame. There were actually three in total. But you couldn’t bare looking at the third photograph so you just slipped out the second one without peaking at what lay behind it.

The picture featured three imp children. You, in the middle, with your arms slung around the boys on either side of you. The three of you were so close together in the image that your cheeks squished against one another’s as you all wore huge grins.

The memory almost made a small smile form on your own face beneath all the tears. You lovingly traced a finger over both of their faces, longing for a time that seemed so far away now. But then the feeling of rage bubbled up inside of you, and your bloodied claw scratched across the face of the boy with braces who stood on your right.

Shame followed and you wished you could rewind time to undo what you had just done. You ruined the last memory you had of that happy boy. Before the fire. Before everything.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your self-pity. “Open up,” Nifty said. “I’m here to clean up your mess!”

Once you scrubbed all the blood off your body and dressed for the day, you joined the rest of the hotel in the kitchen for breakfast. Almost the whole Hazbin Hotel crew had finished their meals — Angel was still picking at some fruit left on his plate — but they were still hanging around.

Well, everyone except Alastor, but he enjoyed his unique tastes in the privacy of his own room. That was a relief.

You loaded up your plate and sat next to Angel across from Charlie, who was showing Vaggie some scribbled plans for the hotel on her notepad.

“Hey Angel, I’m really sorry about how I reacted when you saw that picture. I’m not really comfortable sharing.”

He stopped his nibbling and pulled you in for a hug. A real one this time. You melted into his touch, the feeling of his soft fur against your skin. “It’s okay. I get it, babe. You’ve had a rough morning.”

Husk approached you on his way to the kitchen sink with his dishes. “Hey kid, heard you had a lil’ accident this morning. I’ve been there, especially when I first got to Hell. Wasn’t used to having to maintain these claws.”

You could tell the bartender was trying to be comforting, but it embarrassed even more. Not because someone told him about your mess, but because you were born in Hell. You had these sharp talons your whole life.

“Thanks Husk,” you said, taking a sip of the coffee you had just poured. “Honestly, I’m normally good. I just had a nightmare last night.” You were hoping the excuse would make you feel less pathetic but then Angel let out a fit of laughter.

“A nightmare? We’re in hell. Hell, you’re from hell. You’re in the nightmare, sweetheart.” Your skin grew heated and tail flicked in annoyance. You could see from the look in his eyes that he realized how insensitive it was and regretted making fun of you. Joking was just his knee-jerk reaction.

Charlie chimed in just in time before things could get really awkward. “Ya know, what might be fun?!” She bounced in her seat. “You, me, a night out on the town! I finally have someone who I can venture outside of the pride ring with!”

You shifted in your seat, not sure what to make of this. A little worried that Vaggie might be jealous, but when you looked at her she looked totally unbothered. In fact, she looked quite pleased.

“Sure, Charlie. That sounds like fun.” You looked down as you picked at the food on your plate, trying to hide your uncertainty.

“Maybe, there’s a show tonight in the greed ring!” You hesitated at the mention of your old home, but the all-imp circus was long gone and so were most of the survivors. Many dispersed, escaping to the simple farm life in the Wrath Ring or the absolute dumpster fire that is Imp city.

“Sounds good. Thank you for inviting me.”

She bounced out of her seat so quickly that she knocked over the empty plate she had pushed to the side. But she didn’t care, she was too excited. The princess was genuinely one of the bubbliest, kindest individuals you had ever met in Hell, which was shocking considering the people she ruled.

“I’ll go look up tickets and then I’ll let you know what time to be ready!” she said as she sped off with Vaggie picking up the mess the princess left in her wake.

“Is that going to make Vaggie jealous?” you whispered to Angel.

“No, it was her idea. They were brainstorming ways to cheer you up while you were getting ready,” Angel said, a bit louder than you would have liked. “I’m jealous though.”

Charlie told you to be ready at 5, so when you finished your makeup and hair a half an hour early you decided you would make yourself a snack. Back in the kitchen, you gathered some cheese and hot sauce from the fridge. Squirting a bit of the red sauce on a big chunk, you took a bite and were mid-chew of the delicious combination when the whirring sound of a radio stopped your enjoyment.

“What an odd combination, my dear.” Alastor appeared right behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Is that a normal snack for your kind?”

Something about the way he said “your kind” made you want to punch him. “No,” you said proudly. “It’s just something my best friend showed me as kid.” You almost gasped when you realized what you had just revealed to him. And that you still referred to him as your best friend. “Want some?” You offered, knowing the overlord would refuse.

“No thank you. It’s not exactly my taste.”

“You won’t know until you try it!” you said, thinking only of him. Not the radio demon standing before you. “And who are you to judge? You’re a fucking cannibal.”

“Such foul language coming from the lips of such a pretty creature,” Alastor paused, humming to himself for a moment. “You look absolutely divine tonight darling.”

You almost choked. Is he flirting? You couldn’t really tell. So many of his words were just lies to manipulate soaked in honey. But you were dressed a bit differently than you normal tonight since Charlie had told you to dress up.

You didn’t know what to say so you settled on being polite since you knew it would appease him. “Thank you, Alastor.”

“What are you all dolled up for?” He grew closer to you, his face now only a few inches away from your own. You backed up to create some space between you two but hit your back against the counter.

“Charlie and I are going to see a show.” You nervously ran your hands up and down your arms as if it was cold – even though the room was getting quite toasty.

“Oh, how wonderful. Would you two ladies want a gentleman to accompany you on your outing tonight? I just so happen to be free.”

“No,” you said. His eyebrows raised and he squinted those devious eyes at you. “No, thank you. And anyways, we’re leaving the pride ring so unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to join.” You gave an exaggerated pout as if you were actually devastated at the thought of Alastor not being able to crash your night out with Charlie.

Alastor’s smile never wavered, but you thought you could see a twinge of disappointment in his eyes. “I never learned why you moved in to this old hotel with us. Certainly a hell born imp like yourself wouldn’t think she could be redeemed.”

You wracked your brain for what to say and settled on the same censored, but true story you told Charlie weeks before when you had arrived on her doorstep. “I wanted to help. I may not be redeemable, but at least I could try and do some good.“

“Mmm-hmm.” You could tell he knew you weren’t telling the whole truth. The whole truth would be too much.

“I’ve done so many horrible things during my life in hell and I thought this might be my only opportunity to make up for it.”

Alastor’s smile grew even wider, clearly glad to get at least a little more information out of you. You hadn’t told that last part to Charlie and you honestly wondered what made you share it with him now. Before you could get too lost in your thoughts – speak of the devil’s daughter, she saved you.

“Oh, hey Al,” she said, looking surprised to see you two talking so close together. “You ready to go? I know it’s a bit earlier than I planned but I want to make sure we can beat the crowds.”

“I’m down!” you said, happy for the excuse to slip out of this oddly intimate conversation with the radio demon.

Thank you so much for reading! I thought I was done with the next part but I want to rework it to make it better. Until next time...

Part 2

[tblsomedoodles]

Donny's info from my 03 separated au (which i think i'm just calling the Ninja Club au for now. b/c it's stupid and gives me high school vibes.)

But yeah! I wanted to post Mikey here as well, but he's not done yet. (my cringe son will have to get his own post. Darn lol.)

ANYWAYS! Details!

Donny, of course, was raised by the Jones family after they all got separated during a sewer collapse (or something. I may rework the that later) when they're about 2-3 yo. Donny gets found and brought home by a 9 yo Casey.

Splinter finds him when he's eight and spoke with him briefly. But Splinter was in disguise so Donny didn't recognize him past a vague feeling of safe (which he fought against b/c this is Donny.) After realizing that Donny is safe and well taken care of, Splinter leaves him be. (the best splinter could offer was a place in the sewers and if Donny was able to not live in the sewers, Splinter was not going to take that away from him.)

They gets reunited with most of his mutant family (Raph's still missing) when their fifteen. And that's only b/c Mikey refused to wait anymore and surprised him late at work before Splinter could tell him not to.

He's pretty confused about it all, at first, but he eventually happy to have contact with his siblings. (tho he's less stoked about the adventures he keeps getting dragged out on during school nights.)

for the first few months, he's very against learning to fight. He's a high schooler. Sure Mikey and Leo can fight, but that doesn't mean he has to learn.

But then there's an incident involving Shredder, Leo, and a very breakable window, and he realizes he needs to learn so he's not the weak link and so he can protect himself and his brothers. (it also helps that they found out the Shredder had been targeting Donny for said treatment first due to his lack of training and how easy it would be to grab him from school. But Donny hadn't went to school during those days so they went after Leo instead.)

I have so many stupid ideas for this, you have no idea. anyways, that's all for now. Mikey's might be up later today, but i have work to get to rn.

edit: Links for Mikey, Raphael, and Leo's info dumps

[waywardangel-wilds]

Putting this here so I don't lose it. I think this would be fun to rework into a longer version for ao3.

I had an idea (I wrote this on my phone, forgive all the random mistakes):

Catnip asked me to help her out with training. I didn’t mind, she’s never been the best at snares. Plus, it was time with her. But, as usual, the merchant got priority. I hadn’t been all that excited about teaching boy wonder, I’m still not that thrilled, but I can be nice. That’s what Katniss likes now right? She likes ‘em nice.

Anyway, whatever. Today’s the first day. I told Ma’ I’d be late from hunting so I could help Katniss out. She took the Quarter Quell announcement really hard. I did too, obviously. Every Sunday’s gonna be a long day, but it’s for the best. We gotta get Katniss home for good this time, no strings.

I’m just walking up the Victors Village hill when I spot her. She’s sulking on her front steps, covered in sweat. My mouth goes dry. She looks really good. She doesn’t notice me though, she’s too busy glaring at Mellark who’s standing in front of her.

“That wasn’t your best time.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk to her like that before. Guess I got used to the sappy stuff, like everybody else.

“I’m not doing that again,” Katniss snaps. She’s glaring at him as if she wants him to drop dead. I’m surprised he doesn’t.

“You’re beating that time,” he starts saying as he shucks off his sweaty shirt to use it like a towel “tomorrow.”

Katniss doesn’t say anything in return. She stands up and walks past him, making sure to knock into him with her shoulder.

Peeta turns to stare after her, “that’s gonna cost you another twenty minutes, you know.”

She flips him the bird, but doesn’t bother sticking around. She keeps walking in my direction, “Gale!”

“Hey,” I smile. She nods at me. “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s Haymitch?” The last half of her sentence she directs to the guy behind her.

“Probably passed out somewhere by the fence,” he snorts, taking a long drink from a bottle of water. He thankfully pulls the shirt back on. “I’ll get him, get started.”

Katniss rolls her eyes but lets Peeta leave without saying anything else. She crosses her arms, “come on, let’s practice in the house.”

I’m expecting her to head to her place, but she walks past it, going down the street towards some other house I’ve never been to.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “Haymitch’s?”

“Peeta’s. No Prim or mom, plus it’s clean.” She answers. She jogs up the steps and pushes the door open, “come on!” She says when I don’t follow right away.

Great, now I have to be in his house. “I’m right here.”

“Layouts the same, put your stuff in the living room,” She jogs towards the kitchen and I follow her at a slower pace.

I watch her turn on the tap and stick her face into the water, splashing the sweat off and taking a long drink. “What?” She asks once she catches me staring.

“Nothing,” I shake my head. I wander over to the kitchen window, looking around for anything… interesting.

“Ugh, he sucks!” Katniss whines behind me. I turn around and find her digging through Mellark’s fridge. “There’s nothing worth eating in here,” She opens the fridge wider so I can see all the vegetables in there. “Not even bread.”

I make a noncommittal sound, “yeah”

Some noise from the front door interrupts us. “Katniss!” Mellark.

“Crap.” She closes the fridge and grabs my wrist, yanking me into the living room. “I’m in here!”

“Walk,” I hear Mellark snaps at someone. Probably Abernathy.

Katniss plops herself down on a couch and I put my bag on the coffee table. Haymitch and Mellark come into the room. Mellark shoves the older man in front of him.

“Don’t make me shank you,” Abernathy groans halfheartedly and drops himself into the spare cushion next to Katniss.

“I’d love to see you try,” Mellark scoffs, side stepping around the couch. “You can’t even see straight.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Let’s just start,” Mellark says curtly.

“Would you quit being such an asshole?” Katniss says, but Mellark just stares at her, arms crossed with and a blank expression. “Show us what you brought, Gale.”

I glance at all of them, clear my throat and pull open my bag, kneeling down on the floor once I’ve got the wire and rope on the table. “We’ll start with the basics,” I say.

I start off showing them some easy traps, simple knots. Mellark crouches nearby to get a better look, accidentally knocking against Katniss’s knee. She leans forward to have a better look too, but she knows this stuff. While Mellark is frowning down at my fingers she picks up some spare wire and slowly arranges the trap. It’s a small thing, good enough to catch a curious rabbit, if you’ve got a branch nearby. Mellark turns to look at what she’s doing, reaching out to put a hand on her wrist to slow down her movements.

I watch him, frowning. Katniss doesn’t seem to notice he’s touching her at all, and honestly, I don’t think he noticed he did it either.

I brush it off and glance at Abernathy to see how he’s doing. I raise my eyebrows when I realize he’s snoozing against the couch, not a care in the world.

“Yeah that’s good,” Katniss says, picking up the loop Mellark made to inspect it. “We should probably practice setting these outside so you can see how they actually work.”

“Hm,” Peeta says dismissively. “Show me something else,” he nods, directing the words towards me.

I can tell that Katniss is bothered by his attitude, but if Mellark notices he doesn’t seem to care. It sucks to see it gets to her, but I’m glad there doesn’t seem to be anything going on between them.

I spend some time showing him a basic wire snare. I can tell Katniss checked out a while ago, she isn’t looking my way. She’s picking at some of the string in front of her without really seeing it. Mellark is paying me very close attention, so I’m surprised when he suddenly jumps up.

“You’re hungry,” he says.

“What? Oh yeah.” Katniss puts a hand to her stomach. “I’ll go back home-“

“No, come on.” Mellark motions for her to follow him into the kitchen but she stays put.

“Don’t bother, I’m sure there’s food at the house.”

“Come,” Mellark takes her hand and pulls her after him.

“I don’t need you feeding me,” Katniss grumbles but she goes along with him anyway, a small smile she hides from him tugging at her mouth.

I show up at the same time the week after that. I don’t find them outside though. I walk over to Mellark’s house again and find Haymitch drinking moonshine on the porch.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“Good morning, how are you?” Haymitch says sarcastically. “She’s inside with the boy. Might as well give em a few minutes if you value your peace.”

“What?”

“They’re fightin’. I don’t know a whole lot, but even I know when to leave something alone.” He chuckles and takes another drink. “Don’t tell em you saw me drinking!”

I ignore him and keep walking past him. You can’t hear any yelling or anything else that sounds like a fight so I push the door open and walk over to the living room.

“Catnip..?” The question dies in my mouth.

“Ugh, get off!” Katniss is struggling, trying to kick out Mellark’s legs from behind her but missing. The guy’s got her arms held behind her back, half on top of her one the ground.

“You can get out if you do it like I taught you,” he shifts his grip to compensate for her struggling. “Come on, go for the weak spots.”

“Get off of her man,” I take a step into the living room, dropping my bag to the ground along the way. “She told you to get off!”

“Gale, it’s fine,” Katniss blows some of the hair out of her face and looks in my direction. “I can figure this out, give me a sec.”

“You can wait over there, if you want.” Mellark nods towards the couch without looking at me, he’s too focused on Katniss. “Go for the leg for real this time.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Katniss snaps and keeps trying to pull her arms free. Mellark’s grip doesn’t budge. I stay standing close by. “Gale, it’s really fine. Go outside if you want, we’ll be done in a minute.”

“I’m gonna stay here.”

Mellark ignores me. “You’re already dead. You think anyone in the arena’s gonna give you this much slack? Huh? Kick!”

“Shut up!” Katniss puts all her force into throwing her shoulder back, knocking Mellark backwards. She tries to crawl away from him in the confusion, but he catches her right away, crawling on top of her and locking her wrists down with his elbows.

“What’re you gonna do now?”

“Ugh!” She tries to pull her hands free but it’s futile. Mellark shifts his weight from one hip to the other. Katniss’s feet scramble against the floor but find no purchase.

“Think it through, how do you get out?” Mellark asks, staring down at her. Katniss moves her head around, trying to get her bangs out of her face but Mellark smooths the hair back with a free hand. “Come on, stay cool. You can figure this out.”

Katniss is frowning. She looks beyond pissed. She gets one of her feet flat on the ground and uses all her strength to buck at him with her hips. Mellark merely shifts his weight again and slams hers back down to the ground.

“Damn, buy me dinner first.”

“That,” Katniss’s expression breaks and she laughs. “That’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Mellark heaves himself backwards and off of her, settling onto his knees. He offers Katniss a hand to pull her up. “We can try again some other time.”

“Fine,” once she’s seated she busied herself with fixing her messed up braid. Mellark steps past me and out of the room.

“Sorry that took so long,” Katniss is saying. “Peeta really wants me to do well at close combat.”

“Yeah, that’s what this is.” I can tell my expression is bitter because Katniss’s smile drops. “Let’s just get started.”

“Who the fuck sold to you??” We both hear Mellark shouting from the porch. “Tell me! What the hell did I say, Haymitch?!”

Katniss cringes but hops up to her feet. She starts rearranging the furniture. It had been moved to make space for their little wrestling match. “Haymitch was drinking again?”

“Yup,” I say.

“That sucks. Just when we got him in a better mood he goes and blows it.” She shakes her head.

Anyway I spent wayy longer than I intended writing this! Hope you liked it!

[c-losur3]

438 words, pining idiots to slightly less idiots. Dick doesn’t know how to tell you, the person he does patrol with, the girl he’s grown from sidekick to solo hero with, that he kind of, actually, loves you. So, when he finally considers the idea of confessing, he’s a nervous wreck, and you become a nervous wreck by extension. >> No names mentioned, just soft nickname variations of 'star'. Open ending (?)?? You tell me how you want it, and I'll continue.

There’s something about how you ground him in fights. Soft tap on his shoulder as you take out a sharpshooter about to take aim. You may be wearing gloves, but it’s still your signature warmth. You know each other better than you know yourselves. So much so, that he knows all your tells and you know his.

He knows of the rare times when you need to fall to your knees and cry. You know when leadership takes its toll on him, weariness hidden behind a facade of confidence and smiles. Tonight's not much different. It's one of those strenuous patrol nights with Dick. You can tell he’s worried about something as you handcuff another pickpocket to a lamppost, eyebrows furrowing as he fiddles with his escrima sticks.

You give him a silent look, your own eyebrows raising as you stand and face him. Oh. You know that look. “Talk to me.” You plead quietly. This may be the one thing that breaks that small daydream you've had since your teenage years. That dream where you both are together.

But dreams, as you've long accepted, are still dreams. You can settle for loving him from afar. And either ways, why ruin a perfectly good dynamic? “You know I couldn’t tell you. It’d make things awkward, star.” It’s always been this way, cat and mouse, kitten and robin, whatever you want to label it.

It’s been a game of chicken, awkwardly, tooth-rotting sweet actions and words. Until one of you decides to back away. Childish squabbles have always ended with picnicking over the rooftops of Wayne Manor, a game of how to admire the view.

The familiar nickname flows from his lips, coined after your first meeting, a shooting star lighting the rooftop when you first met. It’s softer this time though. Almost gingerly said, as if he himself is unsure of his next steps. Unusual with the charming and coy boy wonder you’ve grown up with. You hum, letting it slide as you notice the sky breaking in hues of the rosy oranges and pinks. A giveaway that your nightly patrol is up. "Tell me when you can, 'kay?" You pause, tacking on carefully as you walk past him, hand on his shoulder. "I'm always here to listen, boy wonder." He simply smiles, and even if you can't see his eyes, you know that the blues of his irises are smiling with it. It's real and genuine, and it makes you feel at ease like it's always been.

"I will. See you soon, star?" He questions, a hopeful smile working its way onto both of your expressions. "Always." >> This is what happens when I get 30 minutes of a good nap accompanied by a craving to see open endings. Additionally, this is a reworked version of the asks I've sent @idyllcy. I'm still so sorry for the inbox spam WHAHAHA. Thank you as always, hope you enjoy! 💙

[guppygiggles]

Alright, so...

For a while, I've been wanting to start an AU where all of my characters (As of writing: Casper, Avery, Finnegan (formerly Fishper), Darkside (name rework pending), and Null (complete redesign pending)) can interact. Below is a preview of that!

I am still planning on continuing my main fic with Casper + Avery (Like Real People Do), so don't worry that I have abandoned that project! I just wanted more creative freedom in terms of using my characters, so this AU is just meant to be a framework for that. This is meant to be more episodic, rather than a linear story like my fic.

The way Casper and Avery meet in this AU is the same as in my fic, although the world itself is quite different. Unlike the main story, in this universe there are many non-human races other than cloud elementals.

I don't have a lot of the other details fleshed out yet, but I wrote a short fic below to formally introduce Fishper (whose name going forward will be Finnegan) and kind of allude to the relationship dynamics between him, Avery, and Casper.

That was probably more explanation than was needed. Oops! Anyway --

LOTS OF TICKLES AHEAD! Enjoy! 💙

+++++

"Hey, why do you call me that?"

"Hm? Call you what?"

"Fishper. I mean, not that I don't like it, but... I have a name."

We sat on the end of the pier, legs dangling between the wooden slats of the guardrail. Far beyond Avery's lighthouse, the sun was just starting to sink below the horizon, painting the summer sky in shades of pink and orange. It was difficult to believe that just a year ago, I had crashed my skateboard into the same railing, leading to my chance encounter with the cloudman.

Though the world was filled with all kinds of non-human races -- I was sitting next to a triton, after all -- it was the first time I'd ever met an elemental, especially one like him. Prior to meeting Avery, I'd never even heard of cloudfolk. I'd mostly kept company with other humans until that day; since then, I'd become acquainted with all kinds of races, including merfolk like Fish. The scaly humanoid had washed up on the rocky outcropping around Avery's lighthouse during a particularly bad storm, and had been taken in by the elemental until he recovered. What could I say -- the gentle scientist was practically a magnet for those in need! We'd only known each other for about a month, but the excitable guppy and I had become fast friends.

"Well, you couldn't speak for the first few days after we found you, so... I had to call you something! It was really Avery's idea, though; he said you were just like me, so he gave you a name like mine. You could've told me sooner that you had a name, though! What is it?" I turned to look at him. He was grinning, swinging his legs in time with the flopping of his huge tail against the pier's wooden boards. I was a little embarrassed that I knew almost nothing about his race; only that some non-human races didn't use traditional names, so I figured it was possible he didn't have one.

"Ehehe, I just liked that you gave me a nickname! My real name is Finnegan, but most people just call me Finn."

"Awww, that's cute! Very fitting for you, too." I smirked, reaching over to give a light tickle to his finned ear. He squealed, shaking his head as his ears fluttered.

"Eee-HEEE! Hehey!"

I snickered. He was great to play with; very sensitive, with big, bubbly reactions. His scales were soft, supple, and surprisingly warm to the touch. I never would've expected a fish to be cuddly, but as of the past week, he'd been sneaking into mine and Avery's bed at night for a snuggle when he couldn't sleep. Insomnia -- like many things, we shared that, too.

"What's wrong? I thought you liiiiiked being tickled~" I teased, sneaking a finger under his arm and wiggling a bit. He laughed, then -- loud and clear, his high, giggly howling riding above the sound of the waves. He flopped back onto the pier, squirming as I readjusted my position to get a better angle on him.

"EHEH-HEE!" He screeched as my fingers danced gently along his ribcage. Despite all his flailing, he did little to try and stop me.

"This shirt looks familiar. Oh, wait. That's because it's my shirt! You stole my clothes out of the dryer again, didn't you!" I admonished playfully, sliding my hands under his -- MY -- shirt to tickle his pale, soft belly. Given that it was the most tender spot on him (and the most ticklish, as far as I could tell), I took particular care not to hurt him, my fingertips lightly spidering over the surface as if gliding on ice.

He was quickly in hysterics, wriggling beneath my fingers like a... well. Like a fish!

"AHAHA-HEEE! I DOHOHOOO!"

"You do what, ticklefish?" I asked, grinning as I gently pinched along his sides.

"I-EHEEEE! I LIHIHIKE T-TIHIHICKLES!"

I blushed. I'd never known Finn to be shy... after all, he offered very little resistance when tickled, and had always seemed to enjoy it... but I wasn't expecting an outright admission. How did he do that...? Unprompted, and while being tickled, no less!

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped tickling, and he was staring at me, tears in the corners of his yellow eyes.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked, a curious smile showing off his jagged teeth. They were more than a little crooked, lending him an air that was a bit goofy, rather than menacing as most triton tended to be. The end of his tail wagged, thumping repeatedly against the wood.

"You want me to keep going...?" I asked, staring down at him with raised brows... and an affectionate smile of my own. Who could resist that?

"Ehehe, yeah! It's fun!" He raised his arms high and laid back, giving me full access to his torso, and making me blush even more. What kind of society had he grown up in, to foster such boldness?! I choked back my own fluster, trying to look impish and intimidating. I was the ler, after all... I couldn't fold over a little unexpected compliance!

"Alright, fishflake, you asked for it... literally." I giggled in spite of myself; it was too hard not to. Finn didn't seem to mind, though. He giggled right back, which was a relief, for me -- gosh, he was easy.

I lifted his -- again, my! -- shirt up, this time, exposing his belly to the dying light. The stars had begun to appear, and Avery would be expecting us home, soon.

"Last tickle, okay? This belly of yours needs dinner, soon," I said, gently patting his belly to the tune of more happy tittering. Then I went to work, skittering my digits all over his tummy again. I didn't spare his navel that time, either; my fingertip wiggled right into it, causing him to emit a gleeful shriek as he kicked his scaly feet.

"AAAAHAHA-HEEHEEEE!"

He squirmed, but it was easy to follow his movements, as his intention clearly wasn't to squirm away. My hands moved from the center of his belly to his sides, then began to crawl upward, counting along his ribs.

"How many ribs does a fish have? Maybe we should count and see."

"EEEEEE! I DOHOHNT KNOHOWWW!"

"One, two, three... oops! I lost count. Can't you stay still? Now I have to start over!"

"AAAHEHEE! I CAHAHAHAN'T!"

"Ooooone, twoooo, threee..." As I counted each rib, I lightly wiggled each one with the pads of my fingertips. This got plenty of howling from him -- it was a good thing we were alone on the pier, otherwise I was sure his loud cackling would have been quite the spectacle!

Despite how it clearly tickled, Finn somehow managed to keep his arms up. I had to hand it to him... he was even more resilient than me!

"How about here, Finny~?" I taunted, suddenly jumping from his ribs to his armpits. They were nearly as soft as his belly, pale and smooth beneath my whirling fingertips.

He squawked again, followed by a gale of laughter, his body tossing back and forth against the pier. To my astonishment... he still kept his arms up!

"Tickle, tickle... Cooooooochie coo, ticklefish! You're just ticklish all over, aren't you?" I continued to tease, giggling as he laughed uproariously, his gamine face flushed dark green with laughter. Slowing to a stop, I reached up and took his hands, pulling his arms down and helping him to sit up. He looked a bit dizzy, a tickle-drunk grin on his face. I chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"Come on, Avery's probably waiting to pick us up. If we don't hurry, I'm sure there will be a serious tickling for both of us after dinner." I shivered at the thought of an Avery tickling, getting to my feet and pulling Finn up with me. He wobbled a bit, and then righted himself, giggling.

"Ehehehe... that's fine by me~!"

[merryspark]

Sneak-peak Time!

The Crosshairs-Scene based on an animation I watched recently (you can find my reference at: 5:00!!

The amazing animation showreel of the students of AnimSchool (they are crazy talanted, I bet they gonna have fantastic job offers from well known animation studios! <33) - my poor ass was never able to use 3D animation programmes... TuT

So the guy in the video reminds me so much about Crosshairs, and in the very past @velvetblackjack shared so many amazing infos about how Optimus Prime recruited Crosshairs into his team, it seemed perfect to sketch up my version How It Could Have Happened! :D :D Big cheers for you Sis from the distance! I hope you're doing well, HANG ON, SOON IT'S X-MAS! So.... IT'S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT(!) LIKE CHRISTMAS:

I just got the mood, and this is an old idea of mine. It was about time to draw it. ;)

Of course, still with incorrect anatomy, but I guess U got used to it. XD

Drift practice sketch - I have not drawn the blue samurai since ages, so when i saw some awesome eye-reference i wanted to try, drew his face around the eye, lol. I tried to drop some shadows aswell. It was really just a crappy little fast sketch. :)

Work still in progress:

- 2 versions of Barricade;

- BeeFormers sticker sheet - I planned it as a X-MAS gift for my followers, but I had some issues/rework for the Printing Press, sou until you have to wait, make sure you PM me in advance to sign up for a sheet of supercute stickers!! (with address of course :>)

More importantly i must ask for everyone's patience, because meanwhile i'm trying to find a new job without success so far....

I don't wish to disappoint my Ask Box applicants, because they have to wait extremely long, but this year was a mess for me since the summer began. Iamworkingreallyhardtocatchupwitheverything.

I LOVE YOU ALL SWEET BISCUITS, and one thing you can bet: i will be ALWAYS HERENFOR YOU!!

None of my personal problems can be that big, to not to be able to make you smile ANYTIME! <33333

Thank you for followingvme, for liking my art, and reblogging my crappy little drawings all the time. uwu YOU ARE WONDERFUL and AMAZING PEOPLE!!!! <33

Hugs!!! :D :D

[utilitycaster]

The answers Marisha gave in this 4SD felt a lot more realized than in the past, which is good! But it still makes me feel like this character concept is incredibly ambitious and when juxtaposed with the various "I don't want to think anymore"/"go with the flow" statements I'm not sure she realized that.

The biggest example is that Laudna has two conflicting traits: she is extremely sensitive to betrayal, and she is very quick to trust even after experiencing a number of betrayals in her life. And when I say "conflicting" I mean that they are in conflict with each other, not that it doesn't make sense for a character to be a complicated person with traits that frequently work against them; in fact that's in my opinion a fantastic way to create a compelling character. But it feels like the why is only just starting to get explored in any capacity, and because of that even good choices raise more questions: why is this only coming out now; why so young a regression; why has it peeked out so weirdly and inconsistently in the past; why haven't the repeated betrayals in the past two months affected her mindset and made her more closed off. It once again makes me really wish we'd gotten a sustained outburst after the party reunited, because that would have made far more sense - a fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me situation.

I agree with the opinion that Laudna conceptually just fits far more with being an actual child herself - her desire to befriend children frankly comes off slightly weirder (not line-crossing or anything, just a little off) than it would had she died younger, as does her approach of dolls, and her failure to do anything with Delilah would make a lot more sense if she was at an age to be much more reliant. It would also make her inability to just blend into a city much more reasonable; no one is going to rent to a lone 11 year old. It really does feel that when the creepy child idea was rejected - which is a valid choice - it wasn't reworked sufficiently to fit someone who died in her late teens or early 20s.

I also don't really get the idea of her childlike nature being without malice. A pretty consistent theme for the various traumatic childhoods the characters of Bells Hells (and, tbh, past parties as well) has been the cruelty children are capable of - Ashton even says it in 3x78. Delilah being stuck with someone without malice would honestly lead to a situation in which Laudna was very trusting of her, which isn't the case, which again goes back to the conflict of betrayal as a trigger vs. being so quick to trust. Given that Laudna was frequently bullied and rejected as a kid, one would think she'd be aware of this. The specific example of Delilah calling Ashton a child and Laudna making him a doll still works wonderfully, but the overarching theme falls apart in places.

I think things have been on an upswing as of late, but ultimately we're at a point where, without some retcons I don't think Laudna will ever truly make complete sense because it's just such an intensive concept that did not get the work that required, and still feels reliant on a now-rejected premise.

[fishedeyelenz]

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE BLACK CHRISTMAS FANDOM

Hello everyone who's been following my writing and art and OC's!! Your support has warmed my heart, and got me through some thought times. Thank you very much for sticking by me, commenting, sending me kudos and asks regarding Dilf Billy and my oc-verse I made around him!

However... I have come to realize I have made Billy, at least the older 45-50 year old version of him my own. Very much my own. I think there's a discrepancy between my characterization of him, and how he is portrayed in the movie/novel/commentary. Another thing is that I love him too much. I want to make him my own, not an interpretation of a pre-existing character...

So that's exactly what I am going to do! I'm taking him and making him an OC. Currently I am in the process if changing up his backstory to make him distinct from Billy Lenz, though the Dilf version we see in Rats in the shadows and partially in So give me coffee and tv will stay similar.

My goal is to create a group of ocs consisting of the character formerly known as Billy, Camille, Bean and other side characters who will exist in a story about an ex serial killer father. I'm still early in the rework, but I feel like I don't have change too much.

What this means I will effectively be distancing myself at least partially from the Black Christmas fandom, at least in terms of my content creation though these past few months I have been in a rut given college preoccupying most of my time. I still love Black Christmas, it will remain one of my favorite movies forever. I cherish the friends I made and the experiences I had, but I want to move on to more original creations, uninhibited by primary existing source materials.

I will still interact with fan works in terms of reblogging art and writing , and I will most likely draw more of Billy Lenz and the other characters from the movie in the future. Anything regarding Camille, Bean, "dilf Billy" though, will be something divorced from Black Christmas, entirely its own thing, though obviously inspired by it.

Will I return to writing for Black Christmas? At this point I am uncertain. I have a WIP of a priest!au thing for Dilf Billy, which if I ever get around to finishing I would post under the pretense that it's a Black Christmas fanwork. However, I am not sure if I will finish it, given that I don't really have the time, and at the moment motivation to really work on it. Another story idea exists too, one which would better fit into the Black Christmas ethos with is very dark tone and heavy subject matter (while still remaining a smut work) which I would gladly have exist as a fanwork.... But once again I am lacking the time and want to do it. It would be a very big project, all things considered.

So what now? I will keep all my Billy Lenz/Dilf Billy content up on my blog, my AO3 will stay intact (though I will forward this announcement onto there), and I won't change my tags on Dilf Billy related posts. Moving forward, though, everything created for my oc inspired by Billy Lenz/Dilf Billy Lenz will be tagged as that. I need to come up with a new name for him first...

I will also make a post regarding how the plot of Rits/Sgmcatv would have went if I'd finished them, to give you guys some sort of conclusion. Though the new oc story with Bean, Camille and the new Billy oc in it will very closely follow Rits original storyline. Most of the events of Rits are canon still in regards to Camille's and Bean's backstory, with of course some caveats (no Brahms, Camille and "Billy" meet differently etc.). But the large majority of the plot points and story beats are the same.

I will be happy to answer any further questions, as my inbox is open. I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, but I've felt the need to move on, to elevate this story. I hope I can be forgiven. Now I bid farewell to this part of my life and creative era, and look forward to the new.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Measure

Chapter Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Word Count: 1866

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, band dynamics past and current, buried feelings, mild drug use, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean pocketed his keys and grabbed his coffee off the roof of the impala. Sam was already halfway to the studio entrance sipping on his green smoothie and all together being the energetic morning person that he annoyingly was. They had been at it until after midnight, but were back before their usual ten o’clock start time. Dean knew it’d be another grueling day, but at least he was just working out the final few songs and not screaming himself hoarse in the box again. Yet.

Dean followed Sam inside Trust No One Studios, a rundown building off the highway that wouldn’t look like much if the owner wasn’t a paranoid security stickler. The parking lot and the entrances were all covered by cameras. They fobbed their way into the main entrance and nodded at the day guard, Ronald, who waved them through the metal detectors. He was a fan, but had kept a lid on it since Sam had snapped on him during their third album.

“Thanks, Ronnie,” Dean muttered, voice still raw. 

“Good luck in there,” Ronald replied, but only to Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed off down the hall towards the basement steps. Dean trailed after his brother and bandmate to the largest recording room Frank had to offer. The Leviathan Level held two studios, but they were going deeper, to the bottom level, dubbed Purgatory, and its nearly grade-school-auditorium’s worth of space.

They meet another guard at the bottom of the steps, but just flashed their lanyards at him to continue on toward Ash’s domain.

Ash had been engineering their sound since the beginning. In fact, Dean wasn’t sure he had any other legit sources of income besides whatever residuals he earned off their soon-to-be five albums. But he wasn’t about to ask him either. Ash was a weird dude, wicked smart, but weird.

The control room still smelled vaguely of pot when they entered, but no one cared. Sam walked straight through to the door to the main part of the studio to start his warm ups. Dean dropped into one of the chairs at the dials and finished his coffee. He knuckled one eye as he watched the clock on the wall, wondering who would be the next to arrive. He didn’t want to call Lee and wake his ass up to get back to it, but he would if the rest of the band weren’t ready to play by ten.

As he toyed with the lip of his gas station coffee cup lid, Dean’s phone buzzed with an incoming text to one of the many group chats the band had. The name ‘Trouble’ was Dean’s hint that it was actually work talk.

>>>Don’t forget to take pictures! Or I’ll come down there and get them myself.

Which was a blatant bluff on your part and Dean knew it. Frank and Ronnie both gave you the creeps. Plus, you liked to hear the finished product in its entirety, which he kind of loved about you.

<<<Not it

Dean replied before anyone else and repocketed his phone unwilling to figure out just who would be getting the candids for your next social media blitz. He had too much to worry about as it was. He pulled out his notebook he kept in his back pocket with song ideas. The bridge to ‘Pushing Through’ was giving him problems and he wanted to rework the lyrics a bit.

This had been a hard album, both in getting the band to come together and make it happen and how much he was pouring into each song. Without Cas, Dean’s whole process was off and instead of asking the new kid or, hell, even Sam for help, he decided he needed to write most of it single handedly. Call it penance or a martyr complex, Dean had made his bed and he was going to lie in it.

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was having all this guilt that never showed

When you said I was getting frightenin’

I just pushed through

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was holding back this love I never told

Then I see your eyes filled with lightin’

You pushed me through (strike through)

You pulled me through

Dean didn’t realize Kevin had come in until he heard the keyboard join in on Sam’s scales. He looked back at what he’d adjusted and hummed to himself. This wasn’t a song he’d have written even two years ago. It was a fuckin’ love song for one and it put the spotlight on the last year and a half of his mistakes. He almost didn’t want to ruin it by putting it out there for the world to see. But they needed twelve and it was the closest to finished he had. 

For the band and this deadline, Dean could be brave.

Pamela strolled in and slumped against Dean’s shoulders, somewhere between a hug and using him as a pillow. He chuckled and patted her head as he flipped to the next song on his list. 

“Where’s your husband?” Dean asked off-handedly, knowing Lee couldn’t be far.

“Ex-husband,” Pamela grumbled.

“Sure.” Dean honestly couldn’t keep track anymore. Pam and Lee had been married to each other at least twice and shared one kid, two houses and three dogs between them.

“He’s dropping Gibson off at his mom’s, nanny needed a day off,” Pamela explained and Dean could feel the glare she was giving him.

“Well, isn’t that nice of you.” Dean gave her a fake smile.

“I know. A thoughtful employer— in this economy?” Pamela snarked and picked up Dean's coffee, frustrated when she found it empty. “Ugh! Okay, well, I’m gonna go stretch— maybe I can talk that brother of yours into some yoga before we get going.”

“You are such a creeper.”

“Sammy’s a big boy, Dean.”

“I don’t want to know.”

Pamela shook her head and slinked off to join Kevin and Sam. 

“Take some pictures— cuz I aint!”

Pamela glanced back at Dean and winked while pressing an imaginary shutter button. Dean stood suddenly and chased her into the live room until she squealed and hid behind Sam. Her tiny frame dwarfed behind Sam’s, Dean relented, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.

Dean grabbed his acoustic and strummed, pacing around as he muttered his amended lyrics under his breath. Lee and Bobby made it in just after ten. Luckily, Sam and Pam already had enough of their bending competition, which kept Lee from getting pissy about it. Just as Dean and Lee were going over the chord progressions on ‘Rupture’, Ash strolled into the control room and started hooting into the intercom that it’s time to roll.

“Fucking finally,” Dean grunted and ducked out of his strap. They did things as they came, but bass and drums always were put down first, so he, Lee and Kevin hung back until they were needed.

“Alright, ya idjits. Show me what ya got,” Bobby ordered from his seat beside Ash.

So they did.

Lunch showed up just after two. And, naturally, Dean devoured his sub as quickly as he could, which was when Pamela decided to remember to take pictures for their socials. 

Dean rolled his eyes and licked his lips, chewing as the lettuce and mayo collected at the corners. If his hands weren’t full, she would have gotten the bird, but priorities, you know?

“Gross,” Sam replied, laughing.

“Don’t worry, grumpy, I’ll get your good side too,” Pamela teased.

“I’m sure you will,” Sam muttered and cracked open his bottle of water.

Lee balled up his napkin and threw it across the table at Kevin who apparently had been still snapping pictures. “Save it for the session, newbie,” he grunted.

Dean glanced across the room to where Ash and Bobby were talking, both more serious than the last few hours justified. He met Bobby’s eye and held it, knowing he’d find out sooner or later what had the old man extra bristled. 

They finished their food and relaxed for another few minutes; they had a good handle on the tracks they were working out. But that still meant hours more until they were tight and Ash had everything he wanted. Even then, Dean made them do more takes, just to be sure. He was a perfectionist, like his father before him, and Phantom Traveler had gotten to where they were with that driving force leading the way.

Sam was the one to rein Dean in. “Look, man, that was it. We had it three rounds ago. I’m beat.”

“Ash?” Dean called back into the control room, not willing to be outvoted without certainty.

“It’s all gravy on my end, Dean-o.”

“Pam?” Dean asked his drummer and part-time mindreader.

“Kevin and Sam can clear out, I think we can hit that intro harder.”

Dean looked at Lee, who sighed, because he knew Pam was right and Dean was just letting her be the bad guy.

“Alright, from the top!” Dean called out and Pamela quickly counted them in.

Sam and Kevin stayed to listen, sipping water and slumped into any free space they could find behind their gear. Sam was stuck, Dean was always his ride. But the kid could duck out whenever he wanted. The fact that Kevin stayed solidified Dean’s faith that he was going to work out. Without Cas, it had been weird. Well, first it was awful, but now that they were here, back making music, what they did best, it was an adjustment. 

But Kevin had stepped up and Dean couldn’t deny he was grateful.

No one could fill Cas’ place in the band. But the kid had good hands and on top of that he sang, filling out their harmonies with a higher range. Something Cas never did. So, yeah, it was still weird. But if Dean had learned anything living in California, it was that weird didn’t mean bad.

They tackled the intro until Dean was sick of it. And Lee and Pam both were giving him the stink eye. One final check in with Bobby and Ash and Dean released them for the night.

“Alright, I don’t want to see your faces until Monday at ten,” Bobby explained. “Take the weekend off. Be stupid, but save your voices and your fingers.”

“Awww, he really does care,” Dean snarked, throwing a ball cap over his sweat-damp hair.

Bobby glared. “You’re no good to me sounding like my great aunt Ethel, jackass.”

Kevin laughed and everyone held their breath, impressed and surprised by him openly mocking Dean. But Lee couldn’t hold it in and started laughing too. And by the time Ash and Sam were in on it, Dean was crossing his arms and murdering them all with a look. Pam slinked her arm over his shoulders and patted his back condescendingly.

“I hate you all,” Dean muttered. Eventually he dropped the dramatics before looking over at Sam. “Let’s get outta here already.”

“Yeah, already,” Sam agreed, shaking his head and following Dean back out to the parking lot.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @deans-baby-momma @stoneyggirl2 @sassy-pelican

Chapter Three: Rest

[huntersmoon1]

MAGI:THE LABYRINTH OF MAGIC X LOVE AND DEEPSPACE CROSSOVER IMAGINE IDEA!

The lads men meet their genderbent counterparts who are in a similar situation to Alibaba’s mom only none of them get sick and die.

(Edited: reworked the kids ages.)

(Edited again cuz they made I pic for Xavier and Rafayel too!)

Ok I just saw this great fan art right after watching the episode of Magi:The labyrinth of magic where it explains Alibaba’s past and about how his mother caught the eye of the king and they had an affair,she leaves and becomes a prostitute,gets sick and dies,all that. And that gave me a request idea.

If you wanna write this for me please hit me up. 🙏

I can’t write I just come up with the outline, the blueprint if you will.

This is the fan art the artists twitter is linked click on the picture to go to the page.

•So what if Sylus,Zayne,Rafayel,and Xavier meet their genderbent counterparts in the world of Magi that are in a similar situation in the way that they are prostatutes in the slums in order to survive like Alibabas mom only none of them get sick and die like Alibabas mom did.

You know the three princesses of the brothel in apothecary dairies? Well think of them in that way in the sense that they are the most beautiful and desired, well known prostitutes but not in a brothel and are instead in the slums of balbad. Even if they can’t dress luxuriously they are still the most beautiful. And instead of three there’s five,Sylys,Zayne,Rafayel,Xavier,and Mc.

Most of them will be disowned by their families for getting pregnant out of wedlock since that was VERY frowned upon way back then.

•They know MCs counterpart but she’s not genderbent and is instead a sister figure to them and an aunt to their children.

She is also a prostitute,they found her in the slums wandering around with amnesia when she was (they guessed) 17 years old and soon found out she was pregnant,

they tried to talk her out of becoming a prostitute but knew it was likely her only shot at surviving given the state Balbad had been in since the former king died and his short pudgy son took the throne,

eventually they gave in and showed her the ropes and how to work this job without getting hurt by customers or getting sick from them, how to spot the good,healthy,and rich customers, and how to send away the ones that are trouble or could get her or her kid sick,they helped her when she first arrived.

Mc has one 4 year old and one on the way.

•They all live together or very close by each other. Sylus’s counterpart knows Luke and Kieran,they are genderbent and they were her handmaids.

•Sylus’s counterpart has a 9 year old daughter who looks like her dead lover,a 2 year old daughter who looks like her, and has one more on the way.

She was a high class noble lady and fell in love with a soldier and got pregnant but he died before they could get married so her family disowned her and his family blamed her for his death and chased her away.

She took what little money her family gave her and left for the slums and became a prostitute since no one wanted to hire a ruined woman for any other job.

Her loyal handmaids who are Luke and Kieran’s female counterparts went with her,whether or not they became prostitutes too is up to you but they are her assistants and big sister figures to her daughters.

Her daughter can’t learn as fast as the other kids and has trouble learning and understanding certain things like for example math,or learning and memorising the rules to a new game, due to developmental delays caused by her mother not being able to get enough nutrition while she was pregnant with her since she lives in the slums as well as being born too soon.

She makes enough money so she and her children don’t starve now since she’s more well known by the noble class and not just the men in the slums.

•Zayne counterpart has twins,a girl and a boy. They are none identical but they both look like their mother.

She was a middle class lady, daughter of two doctors,Her husband was a kind medicine peddler, he died after being attacked by bandits not long after her twins were born since he couldn’t get the required medical treatment in time.

Her twins are 6 years old and were born in a land where there was plenty of food to eat so they came out normal and not early.

Their mother came to Balbad with them after she heard their were many sick people there that needed help and didn’t have anyone to leave them with,

She thought she’d be able to make enough to get by without having to charge the poor people by treating rich nobles,

but she didn’t know just how bad Balbads money troubles were so she ended up poor too and moved to the slums since she could no longer afford their living arrangements in the middle class.

She makes a little money as a doctor in various classes of the hierarchy but most of her money comes from prostitution since men of all walks come for her services.

•Rafayels counterpart has one 5 year old girl and a newborn son.

She fell in love with a rich man and he got her pregnant, he said he’d come back for her but he never did and she found him courting another woman,he abandoned her.

She was in the middle class, the daughter of an art dealing merchant, but she didn’t have the funds to support herself and a child, and her family cut her off and disowned her for getting pregnant out of wedlock,

so she sold her house and went to the slums so she’d have a decent amount of money for a while but eventually she had to find a way to make ends meet and since jobs aren’t offered to people in the slums very often she turned to prostitution since that’s the only profesión from the slums the nobles and middle class will pay decently not well but decent. She’s pretty well known by the nobles.

•Xavier’s counterpart has one 3 year old son.

She was a middle class noble lady who fell in love with a soldier and as soon as he found out she was pregnant he kicked her to the curb and when her family found out she was pregnant out of wedlock they disowned her so she moved to the slums with enough money she saved to get by for a while and be able to get enough to eat from the middle class so she would have a healthy full term baby.

But after her son was born eventually that money ran out and she turn to prostitution since no one in the middle or upper class would give someone from the slums a job unless it’s a prostitute looking for clients. She’s pretty well known among the nobles.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 14

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping, self harm

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 14.

“Sure,” they said.

Rory tore his gaze from the tattoo across their back for the first time since they took their shirt off. He tried to meet their eyes, to see that confirmation as well as hear it, but they’d looked away again.

They were tense but waiting.

He put his hand on their hip first, palm on the waist of their pants with his thumb and forefinger touching skin. He gave them another second to tell him to fuck off. They didn’t, so he turned his gaze back down to the tattoo and slid his hand up their back.

The moving ink didn’t seem to care, a nebula of debris and stars slowly swirling under and over his hand. “Well, that doesn’t affect it…”

He moved his hand up to the back of their neck and then down again, following their spine. He told himself he was just checking for a trigger—something that might spark a reaction on the map. Their skin was a little cold. He needed to turn the temperature on the ship up.

Rory’s hand stopped low on their back and his thoughts went quiet. That smooth skin had changed. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the edges of something. “Stardust why… It feels like there’s a scar here. It’s pretty big. How—”

He realized then that they’d held their breath, so rigid that it felt like they might snap. “I couldn’t get rid of it because I couldn’t show anyone… It was my own fault. It was a stupid idea. I just wanted to get rid of it, you know?” The words rushed out, whispered.

“You?” He spread his fingers against the scar. It was big. “You tried to get rid of the tattoo? How?”

When they swallowed, he felt it in their body. “Laser.”

Laser? “Oh. Shit… Stardust…” He didn’t trace the burn under his hand, didn’t search for the edges and shape of it under the tattoo.

“Did it... Did it change it?” they asked, their voice hushed and carefully void of emotion, like they could pretend not to care—like they hadn’t cared so much that they’d burned themself.

“No, it didn’t do anything to the ink.” Rory wished it had, just to keep their shoulders from sagging and their head from dripping forward. “When… When did you do this?”

“Couples cycles ago.”

He nodded, even though they couldn’t see it. “Does it still hurt?” It shouldn’t, but he had to ask.

They shook their head.

“Okay.” They’d tried to burn it off their skin. They’d flown a jet out past the borders of the Solar Court and taken their chances with pirates. They’d been ready to throw themself into an emergency pod with their wrists cuffed to get away.

His bounty was in trouble.

Rory dragged a breath and nodded again, this time to himself. “Okay… So, just telling your cousins where the loot is doesn’t look like an option.”

Stardust huffed. “Are you done gawking at it?”

He took his hand off their back. “Yeah, here, you can have your shirt back.” He passed them the article of clothing and watched them pull it back on, somehow impressed that that thin layer of synthetic cotton could hide the nebula on their skin.

They reached for the jacket.

Rory snatched it up before they could and jumped to his feet. “Oh, no, I’m keeping the jacket.”

They blinked up at him as if returning to themself. That raw discomfort melted away and they shot to their feet, reaching for the fake leather. “What? But—”

He pulled it on. It fit perfectly. Oh yeah, he had known it would. No way he was giving this back. “I told you when you tased me that second time. If you wanted one you should have gotten another one. This one is mine now.”

Stardust ran their gaze over him like they were trying to figure out a way to tear the piece of clothing from his body.

Tingles rolled up his spine at the idea, but he shook it off and walked past them down the hall, toward the deck.

“Where are you going to drop me off? We’re not far from the station—”

“What?” Rory laughed, stepping onto the deck. “Drop you off? I did not save you twice just to drop you on some random station.”

“Genesis isn’t bluffing. He isn’t going to wait on the other side of the edge.”

Rory nodded in agreement. “Your cousin is definitely coming.” He sat down in the captain’s chair and tapped his console, bringing their flight plan up. “That really only leaves us with one option.” He felt the shift in the room, hand hovering over the controls when he glanced back to see their face pinched in confusion.

They were tense, hands loose, and body leaning away from the crate they’d only recently gotten out of.

The bounty hunter thought then, that if the primer had a weapon they would have drawn it on him.

“No, I don’t mean trading you to your cousins.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the dashboard, hitting enter to erase their latest flight plan and set a new course. “I mean going there ourselves. You said there’s treasure, right?”

“Treasure? No one said treasure. And what do you mean go there?” Stardust pressed, but at least they’d dropped the I’m going to steal your ship again look when they came to stand next to him.

“Yeah, okay, you didn’t use the word treasure…but that’s what it is.” He set the new coordinates and adjusted the path to take them by another station on the way and avoid a few zones that were known to be less hospitable. “The way I see it, you still owe me for saving you from pirates and from mercenaries. I can’t trust your cousins not to kill me on sight, thanks to you… So, we go to Cepheus, get the loot for ourselves, split it, and then run for the hills.”

“What hills?”

“…Metaphorical hills, Stardust, keep up.”

When he looked up, they were smiling. It was dangerously wide and threatening to recently glued split on their lip. “You mean, you want to work for me?”

Rory barked a laugh and leaned back in his seat. “No, I’m not working for you. More like, momentarily teaming up.”

Their smile remained. “You mean… We’re partners?”

“Partners?” he spat the word. When was the last time he’d had a partner? Never, that’s when. “Why do you have to make this ugly?”

Their hands went to their hips. “You want to split the loot, right? That makes us partners.”

Rory groaned and swiveled his seat from side to side, considering his options. “Fine. Partners.” Something warm swelled in his chest when he said it, his mouth twitching in betrayal when the primer’s smile started to infect his own lips.

Stardust thrust their hand out toward him, little finger out and waiting.

He blinked at it and then laughed. “Pinky swear? Really?” Again?

They waited.

“Damn it. Fine.” He looped his little finger with theirs. “Pinky swear, Stardust. We’re partners until we get away with the treasure.” The deal was sealed, just as childish as it was foolish. Was he really going to steal from Galileo? Did it count if Galileo herself didn’t know about it?

Stardust took a big breath and turned, surveying the deck and the stretch of space beyond the window like they’d just bought his damn ship. “Does that mean I can have command authorization?” they asked, stepping closer to his console.

Rory laughed and kicked a leg at them, not connecting but warding them off. “No, you absolutely do not get command of the ship again.”

They honestly looked surprised when they asked, “Why?”

Why? He should scan them for a head injury. “Because last time you were thieving!”

Stardust groaned and marched over to the other seat, practically flopping down in it. “Can we at least go back to the station for some more supplies before—”

“No, we’re not stopping to get another jacket.”

The primer leaned back and put their boots up on the dash. “I guess we’ll just have to share it then.”

He laughed, discretely punching up the temperature on the ship. “We’re not sharing this one!”

Stardust whined dramatically, folding their arms and sinking lower. “But we’re partners, Cosmic.”

He bit his tongue to keep from commenting on their nickname for him. If he gave it attention, they’d never knock it off. “That’s not what being partners means.” He watched them settling into that chair. It almost looked like they were going to fall asleep…

“So, you’ll share my adventure but steal my jacket?” the primer clarified, eyes closing.

They really were falling asleep. He supposed they were crashing. It had been a long day, though the kidnapping hadn’t seemed to scare them anywhere near as much as the threat of their cousin catching them… or him seeing the tattoo on their back. But they’d let him see it. They’d even let him touch it. Rory wasn’t sure if he should feel like they trusted him or like they simply had no other options.

Both could be true…

The ship hummed with the passing of metal through space, engines and systems running, and yet he could pick out their breathing as it softened and fell off into sleep. He really should have finished patching them up. They had bruises all over their arms and across one cheek, but at least they weren’t bleeding from anywhere but that lip.

If they managed to stay ahead of the other Solinohs and get the treasure first, maybe he could find a way to smuggle them out of the area. Would they be safe in Eaton Space? If there was no reason to chase them—no more loot to be found at the end of that map—maybe the rest of the Solinohs would let this one go?

Rory wasn’t sure that was how primer families worked, but he felt like he had to try.

[nightmareworks]

hi i've been making lancer microfic

its about Allison Wax, a girl who got herself installed in a secondhand cyborg body.

Its about Loverboy, a mech who loves his pilot in the way only a machine built to kill can.

Its about Her, the mysterious someone Allison sees in the mirror, for whom the body was originally built.

I hope you enjoy them.

Allison Wax woke up as she always did. Bits at a time. (Her brain always woke up first.) This seems like a perfectly reasonable place to start, in her mind (ignoring its obvious biases) [Her fingers always came too just next-], and she figured most people started the day this way. First you are aware you are awake, and bracing against the wave of conciousness (The alarm is going off) [-then her hearing, immediately amped down-], and then you're moving a little bit, stirring is probably the word to use, right? (Yeah, she figures stirring sounds right?) [Then her arms and her chest, and then she's all the way on]. She sat up and turned off her alarm with a lazy slap. (It wasn't really hard or anything, she wasn't angry at the alarm, it was just the best she could manage while she was waking up.) She tossed her covers up and off, steadying to her feet and up properly (As her mother would always say.) [You aren't up til you're standing, Alli.] It was a day off, the medical officers had told her she needed it, she'd been banged around on the runs and Trunk could cover her patrols now that they were within light of the gate. (She was fine. The armor hadn't been breached.) [Her Loverboy was fine too. He'd been through worse.] She didn't feel like arguing with them. They were giving her a job, after all. And they were better bosses than she'd ever had, so she wanted to listen. (Even a pity-job is a job, her mother would say.) [Man can't live without work, Alli.] She went to brush her teeth, running fingers through her hair and shaking out sleep. Brush, paste, a little water from the tap, and go to work. Routine, simple, just Allison and the mirror. (This was always the hard part of the day.) [But it was part of the day she had to get through.]

She had to look at herself in the mirror, and like always, make peace with it before she went on with the rest of her day. She had to take care of the person on the other side of the mirror, she reminded herself. So she looked in the mirror, and looked at the person whose body she was in. It wasn't hers, of course. Her original body had been recycled. (Protien by protien, unwoven and reworked.) That was how she covered the surgery to put her brain in a... what did the med officers call it? A full-body prothesis. It sounded way too polite to Allison's ears. Back in the Range, she'd just be a 'borg. (Lots of people were.) [Apparently it was harder to do in the rest of Union.]

Allison looked back at the mirror, and wondered again why Her bangs fell like that, naturally into place with the rest of the hair to make a perfect little style- one that hid the upper part of Her face, and played up the beauty of Her nose and Her lips. Allison did this every day (She tried to puzzle things out about herself.) [About the person this body used to belong to.] It was just something to do. The therapists on the ship had said it was a good idea, to look in the mirror every day and try to practice self love. Allison figured that was as good an excuse as any to try it, but got too caught up in the questions. (Who was She?) [And why'd She dump this body in the trash for Allison's back-alley surgeon to find?] Allison held up the brush and the the hand to the mirror, then spit. Like always, her sleep-shirt came off and Allison looked at her back in the mirror. Right there, in the middle of her back, was Loverboy's crude addition to the Belladona-Lux body She'd left behind for Allison. The ugly little nodes of his Chronos upfeed into Allison's spinal cord and kidneys.

Allison rolled her back, and the nodes twitched along with every other muscle. That was good. She was always still there, and her Loverboy would always have her back. She figured she oughta see him today, he'd done such a good job and everything with the pirate skirmish. She kept moving around her little conapt (She appreciated having space to herself.) [It was a premium on Ketherese.] {You got out, Alli.} and got ready. Her teeth were brushed, she had an outfit clean and ready in the closet, her boots were in the same place she left them yesterday. Allison stopped, and wondered for a minute, and flexed her back muscles in that way she'd learned to. (Squeeze, gently, lower torso, flex some internal muscle.) [Work the dregs of Chronos out of the little nodes.] She felt time drag out, and the world stop spinning. She cut herself free from gravity, and watched Her stand there, with the look Allison had put on Her face. Without gravity holding her down, Allison could think. Could examine. Could dwell on a question she thought was important enough to give a real moment.

Did She ever think about dressing the way Allison did? About walking with that swagger that fit better inside Loverboy than it did in any flesh Allison had ever worn? What had She worn? How had She walked?

The Chronos ebbs, and Allison slinks back into the skin that holds her brain. She holds up her hand, and examines the back of it, curling and flexing her fingers. She gently kissed the back of her hand and went out the door. Down the hallways. Towards the mechbay. She was gonna see her Loverboy, and let him know she thought of him.

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

He sat waiting for her. He didn't sit, really. It was just the word to describe the mood. He hung from the standby bay's armatures, held up against the ship's gravity. He waited. For her. She was the light of his life, his girl, who brought light to his heart. He could only wait. He couldn't move without her. Within the frame, the C/Cs stir, the mute-drives sing to themselves. Ammo bins are counted and recounted, heat-vents stirred and hissed. He waited for her, running through everything. Had to be perfect when she arrived.

There'd been battle, and he'd been hit, but she was fine, and that was what he was for. He'd watched her pull his hands into place and put a bullet in the reactor. He lost some armor. The other mech lost everything. And she'd done it for him. She'd moved with him, as one, like electricity. They were bound together. He flushed the nanite tanks, and began producing more. They would need the chronos when it came time to ride again. He had to make sure he was perfect for her.

The mechtechs would watch him, in the standby bay. You could tell him apart from the crowd in a heartbeat. Everyone could. The long limbs of a spacer's frame, the delicate blade-legs of something not designed for in-atmo fighting, the ship armor hammered to his shoulders, the graffiti of butterflies across the matte-black of steel. He was a Lancer's frame. And he was proud of that. The mech techs whisper to themselves when they see his hands moving, twitching, flexing. Holding a rifle that isn't. Pulling a trigger that wouldn't. Killing tools are a long way off. But he has to be ready, in case she needs him.

There she was, she was coming to him now. He could feel her in the halls, his eye creaking and whirring into position to eye the door. The mechtechs don't like it when he moves. Why does he care? They aren't her. She loves him. He knows she does. The way she moves isn't right for the body she's in. She moves like she's in him, big, powerful, with strange swagger to account for the blades of his limbs. She's small though, small and built with proper calves and feet. She doesn't have to walk that way, but she walks like him. And that's how he knows his girl.

Her smile is like the sun for him. "There's my Loverboy." His signals flare. Numbers, data, readouts, everything she could ever want to know about him, he lays bare. The chitter-click-screech of him omnicaster leads into the booming scream of his warhorns. She looks at him with such affection.

He knows he's perfect for his girl.

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

Loverboy moved like a frame possessed. She's with him, in him, her spine all bound up with his, and her breath is Chronos and his is death. The rifle barks, the blades of his legs twist and spark against the hull, and he's rushing under fire. She pulls the trigger for him.

"One." She counts for him. "Frame downed. Continuing action." Comes the CO's reply. She lets him scream, his warhorn booming against the cold of space. There's no Gravity. It doesn't ring like he wants it to. No atmosphere. But he has to scream, she put the horn in for him.

Allison twists her hands, and Loverboy banks (Allison pulls the trigger, and a mech blossoms against the void.) [Her fingers dance to adjust the verniers.], the shots wing past him. Pirate skirmish. Basic job. Security for the ship. (How she made her daily bread.) [Commanders said security patrols were optional.] And even if they were optional, she'd take them. Time dilates. It stretches out, and Allison is watching Her move. And Allison is watching Loverboy move. And Allison settles back into Her body, and into Loverboy's cockpit. She feels her nerves sing, and she picks the right choice. An interdiction shot whirls bye, detonating where Loverboy had been a moment before.

She pulls the trigger for him. "Two." She counts for him. "Frame downed. Continuing action." He wants to scream, but he muzzles. She's focused, and she's guiding him right. The rifle barks again, the rest of the squad is moving in now. His fire algorithms turn suppressive. He despises the other mechs before them. They're threats. They might hurt his girl. He wants to scream. Instead he fires, and the little machine the mechtechs like sprints past and under his barrel.

Allison twists her fire. Support, she has to let them through. The charge doesn't break. She stands in the breach she's made and she breathes. (She feels like nothing else.) [She feels like she's storming the gates of heaven.] Chronos runs along every nerve. She thinks, she moves just an inch, and her Loverboy dances on her hand. Allison knows, (she really knows) that she'll make it through this. "Three." She counts for him. "Frame downed. Continuing Operation." The others begin their own calls and responses along the tacnet.

He loves her so, as he touches down against the ship hull. His blades click against it as he strides. The wrecks drift off into the void. The twinkling targeting feed data highlights capsules of ejected pilots, collected by one of the hunting ships. The pirates pull back. She lets him scream. His body unfurls, every vernier and thruster blaring as the warhorn echoes in his own frame and his reactor spikes.

He adores her.

[saltysplayt00ns]

Fraujar, Tribe & Page Rework

Hey guys, been awhile. needed a break and I got sucked into other stuff. So getting back onto this one and have seen the latest pages as well so may give quick-shot talks about it. ✨ Without further adieu ✨

it's pretty rough and a few years old concept idea 😅

yeah, I wanted the dialogue to show both perspectives of the Leaders, while also not wanting to spill their guts out emotionally for they’re still strangers, despite being strangers. Adding, that there is tension between Ronja and Fraujar, rewritten,  both care about their families, which they should be, instead of them doing....whatever they were doing. Fraujar would also not marry and mate with his AUNT cause that is just inappropriate, you can’t scorn meteor or any tribe doing that, when you are literally doing the same darn thing.  

Both had experienced MT differently, Where in my head-canon, Whispervale had been monitoring Meteor Tribe and it’s whereabouts, they couldn’t get much intel and sent out Fuss ( the morally questionable marshmallow ) to scout and be a double agent among the crater, but after a while they did not get much and he disappeared nor heard from him, During those times from the first rebellion from Kargo and Ferah, to presently,  Fraujar been a refuge for abused and appressed meteor dogs, and has through those times. Only sees Meteor as a glass half empty, while Ronja tries to see it as a glass Half full, but not aggressively positive, she is a war veteran from Asmundr, so she can’t ignore what happened from past conflictions, not to mention her children are still part of the bloodline under Ranach, so their lives are just as much intertwined as she is. ( that includes the curse, ya know...the one upon the bloodline with the ghouls ).

Fraujar  would be a reasonable Dog, Kind but, Stern and Cautious. especially involving Keirr, being an intersection between MT ( Meteor-tribe)  and WSV ( Whispervale ). Would have it that Fraujar gradually becomes allies with Ronja, it’ll be a stranger-acquaintance- friends-Lovers it will also be slow burn cause - obviously BOTH, Are dealing with personal issues as well as that meteor wedge sort of thing.

Side-note, In my head-canon, Isabel is alive with other dogs that were hurt, and has adopted Ruan as her own pup, and not have died from birth after going through that traumatic event ( What has been stated ). I would not think she wants to deal with that at all, and would be more inclined to adopt or foster. I would think most would either be single, adopt, foster or just straight up date females.

 Fruajar didn't want Keirr or others to be near Meteor Tribe and their members, due to what happened to Fuss, an established member, and other unlucky stragglers without a tribe. Do to it being “ hell on Aedra '' and no good comes to it, while also trying to protect from that area. After some thought from Keirr, Isabel and Ferah, he went to visit Meteor Tribe with his strongest, and trusted warriors and also Isabel, since she wants to see it for herself as well, have a conclusion ( her son will be there with her ) . With the tour, seeing how meteor has seemed to change, then, Fruajar would bring Keirr along with Aira (since they were both supposed to find the pack together and not just Keirr ) as a form of Peace and initiation that Fraujar is making that step and Ronja can see that.

Wanted to also add how much the author tries to shoehorn Roamer and Rogio and any of his favorites and try to praise them or focus on them when there is a WHOLE CAST OF CHARACTERS he needs to focus on and develop. if you’re not wanting to develop them DON'T bring them in or kill them off cause they’re just filling up space,  collecting dust.   Then focusing on roamers, like a gray stu and forgetting that there was Kargo, ferah, ~~rogio~~ and others on Midnightguarde.

Extended Fraujar info.

Speaking of What Fraujar would be…did a little bit of him and the tribe.

New Head-canon traits; Wisdom, Resilient, compassionate, Kind, Stern, reasonable, strategic decision-making, Cautious, Open display of emotions.

Fruajar is  a Crested Veilhound, a fantastical breed I created for this segment, within the Taiga and Tundra terrains of the planet. An ethereal canine companion characterized by a sturdy build, a luxurious coat in Arctic hues, and distinctive crystalline horns. Though the horns are uncapped under hard coating that darkens over time and age, only shown when broken off and regrown. The head pieces are never consistent in form, and can grow weird shapes and structure. Bioluminescent patches emit a soft glow, inspired by their magical connection with the 

Caribright. Standing at 24 to 30 inches, these conceptual dog breeds play vital roles as companions and guardians in the nomadic lifestyle of the tribe, embodying the harmonious blend of strength and enchantment in the Arctic wilderness.

The Caribright are Native Fauna on the planet. Serving as a spiritual guide and source of illumination during the article nights, these creatures share a symbiotic connection with the crested Veilhounds. The colors correlate with the dogs of arctic hues, grays and blues but the canines have an artic gradient of browns to more a liver color. A modest height of 3-4 feet ( 0.9 to 1.2 meters ) compared to the caribou of 3.6-4.6 ft. (  ) However their centerpiece;  celestial antlers are a different story, the glowing grandeur, ranging from 4-5 feet in length. Only known to glow when the night sky dances ( aurora borealis ) or at its darkest.

In the Frostweald Tribe ( which is the OG whispervale), the Caribright and Crested Veilhounds forge a harmonious alliance, each offering unique strengths to the other. The Caribright's celestial glow becomes a guiding beacon in the Arctic nights, aiding the dogs in their nocturnal endeavors. In return, the Crested Veilhounds serve as vigilant guardians, ensuring the safety and companionship of the luminous Caribright. For their glows have been known to compromise their locations and draw unwanted guests. This dependency for each other extends beyond the practical, contributing to the tribe's spiritual bond, well-being and forming a relationship within the nomadic community. Together, they navigate the frost-laden landscapes, creating a living testament to the delicate dance between the elements of the Arctic wilderness.

a caribou-moose beast with celestial silver and ice-blue hues with variants of browns sometimes tanned. Its 4 to 5 feet antlers resembling celestial chandeliers branch out in intricate patterns, casting an otherworldly glow as the creature moves through the frost-kissed environment.

radiant luminescence eyes , reflect the celestial radiance of its antlers.

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Fraujar rules over the Frostweald Tribe. A vast tribe of 150-200 members including the Fuana Caribou; the Caribright.

Born beneath the shimmering Northern Lights, he emerged as a promising member of the tribe, displaying a deep affinity for both the mystical and practical aspects of Arctic life.

Fraujar emerged as a natural leader. His strategic decision-making and ability to guide the community through icy adversities. 

Early in his life, During a harsh winter that tested the tribe's resilience, Fraujar faced the harsh realities of the Taiga and Tundra. A pivotal moment of the treacherous winter, turned to Fraujar for his strategic decision-making and resilience. Leading the community through the icy adversities, earned him the trust and admiration of his fellow tribe members.

As Fraujar's influence grew, so did his compassion. He was known for open displays of empathy, sharing in the joys and sorrows of his tribe. This vulnerability, rather than a weakness, fostered a deep connection with the community.

The turning point came when the previous chieftain succumbed to the unforgiving Arctic environment. In the moonlit gatherings, under the spectral glow of the Caribright, the tribe sought Fraujar to take on the mantle of leadership. Hesitant yet driven by a sense of duty, he accepted, becoming the chieftain of the Frostweald Tribe. however not all was accepting of him and migrated to other parts of the lands, more so when he impose himself in others tribes affairs out of the openness of his heart and morality.

Though Guided by the wisdom acquired through years of nomadic life and the lessons, Fraujar embraced a role of chieftain that balanced reason, kindness, and strategic insight. His compassion became both a strength and a vulnerability, forging familial bonds and instilling a deep sense of unity among the tribe.

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DIALOGUE TWEAK.

wanted to try this again.

Page 1

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Panel 1

Fraujar: "There's a palpable tension in the air. Your arrival here might have ignited some hostility."

Ronja: "Hostility…?"

Panel 2

Fraujar: "Indeed. The meteor has a history of grievances since—"

Ronja: "I'm well acquainted with Meteor's past."

Fraujar: "Then you know of the warnings issued."

Panel 3

Ronja: "Yes. But those are regarded merely as past transgressions. Circumstances have changed for the better."

Fraujar: "Changed…"

Panel 4

Fraujar: "You may portray yourself as an agent of positive change, but for how long until you find yourself at the receiving end? Until all you cherish is stripped away?"

Ronja: "I believe you've made your point, Fraujar. As have I."

Panel 5

[The two Jarls, Fraujar and Ronja, lock eyes, each refusing to yield.]

Panel 6

Fraujar: "Very well. I shall take my leave then."

Ronja: "May your journey be safe."

Page 2

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Panel 1:

Fjordor: "Jarl Ronja!!!" the elderly male dog calls out.

Ronja: Her attention shifts to the approaching dog, recognizing the skull tribal paint. "Fjordor!"

Panel 2:

Fjordor: "You've heard of me."

Ronja: "How could I not? My companions speak highly of you, eager to express their gratitude."

Fjordor: "Companion and Jarl of Midnightguard. How fares your tribe?"

Ronja: "We're holding on…or so I hoped."

Panel 3:

Ronja: "Fjordor…I…they—" Ronja hesitates, reluctant to deliver the grim news to the Jarl of Midnightguard.

Fjordor: "Lady Ronja…?" His ears droop slightly more, sensing the weight of the unspoken news.

Ronja: "Kargo and Ferah joined my tribe after yours. They were caught between the Meteor and Ranach…"

Panel 4:

[Panel focuses on Fjordor's. His face falls, stricken by the news.]

Ronja: "…Kargo didn't survive."

Panel 5:

Fjordor: "And what of Ranach? Did the Fallen Jarl face justice?"

Ronja: "Worse. He escaped. That's why I'm warning you, don't let him get anywhere near you." Eyes narrow with grave concern.

Fjordor: "He won't get within an inch of me." His flared with determination and a flicker of warrior rage.

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