#ragtag-band-of-murderers

[a-mag-a-day]

it's interesting that the statement giver came from a dimension where there were fears already - or that's how it seems.

The spider was not just in the crack but making the whole house spooky, so that might have massive implications for the end of tma

I got an impression from this statement that it wasn't that there was a version of the Fears in that universe rather that a bit of them bled through the crack in hiltop road and affected the nearby vicinity as much as it could. That world didn't have its version of the institute either.

Although I could be wrong. That world did have Ikea after all

[cryptidcaptain]

13 and 42 for spotify wrapped?

13: What You Know // Two Door Cinema Club

42: LOST IN PARADISE // ALI, AKLO

as in the jujutsu kaisen ending music yeah because it goes so unbelievably hard

[daggersandarrows]

24 for spotify wrapped!

PMA by all time low ft. pale waves! This one is in here cause it was an on and off choice for my percildan playlist, which I spent approximately forever constructing this year.

[connorsnothereeither]

Happy Halloween Folks!!!

I’m super excited to finally announce the release of Six Feet Umber {Part I}!! The first part in Cantripped’s Halloween special miniseries which I was lucky enough to be given the chance to run!!

A ragtag group of cowboys are banded together by the sheriff of a small drying up mining town to investigate a murder, and uncover the waiting horror that lies Six Feet Umber…

I know a lot of people have really enjoyed my fanfics in the historical horror and vampire subgenres, and you enjoyed any of my writing like On the Brink of Scientific Discovery or My Blood Between Your Lips I think you guys will really enjoy this miniseries!!!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Vivace

Chapter Twenty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Bobby, Tiny, Lee, Kevin, Annie, Pamela, Sam, faceless fans and support staff

Word Count: 2900

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, grief, musical backstory and hope

A/N: The band played on.

Series Masterlist

You held your breath as Bobby gathered the band backstage. Two dozen roadies, stage crew, and security stilled as he looked past the boys and Pam to their support staff, only Charlie and her team were missing, already in place in the booth. You shivered and waited. Jody’s voice echoed behind the bend thanking the crowd and promising a great show from Phantom Traveler to come. Andy slinked around and continued to snap pictures, despite the glare it earned him anytime Bobby caught the lens pointed toward him. The ragtag group buzzed with excitement and you silently prayed that it would go off without a hitch. 

Finally, Bobby began to speak, “I know a lot of you are nervous about tonight, ‘bout this tour— hell about this band. But it means a lot that y’all signed on for another round of nonsense with these idjits. It means you believe in them, that you’ve got faith they can pull together and get it done. Well, I’m here to tell you it’s not a time to worry, because ain't no other band that can do what these guys do. It’s a time to celebrate. Let’s get out there and fuckin’ rock’n’roll.”

Lee hooted and people cheered, you couldn’t help but clap and shriek along. Then everyone crowded in for the circle of hands and chanted “Phaaaaaantom TRAV-ler!”

The band and crew maneuvered in the dark, letting the interim instrumentals keep the crowd distracted as they set up. You scurried back to where you had left Bela in the wings, under Tiny’s care.

“Everything alright?” Bela asked out of the side of her mouth, shifting in place as she tried to clock Dean amongst the many moving shapes.

“Aces,” you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet as the crowd started to clap with an increasing beat.

You spotted Sam and Kevin’s silhouettes high five and then Lee strummed a teaser chord. Walkie talkies crackled around you as the all clear was called. You kept an earpiece in, but without much left for you to do, you turned it to the lowest setting besides mute. 

It was go time. 

“Bring ‘em up, Charlie,” Bobby prompted over the line and the Forum erupted. 

Lights and wavelengths of sound shot off in every direction and Phantom Traveler took off.

You wouldn’t have stopped yourself from screaming bloody murder even if you had remembered you were directly beside your very posh best friend and her security detail. 

It was happening. They made it back home.

“Good evening Inglewood!” Dean greeted, pointedly accurate. Plus you could tell he was grinning from where you stood, from just the sway of his head and a glimpse of his profile.

There was no other chit chat, no grand speech thanking them for coming out, it was just the band, the music, and the audience.

They started off with ‘Woman in White’, their first major single and something high energy enough to get people out of their seats. Then on to the B side of their first EP, which was a cult favorite called ‘Playthings’ that featured something affectionately referred to as ‘the beat off’ between Sam and Pam.

But at the time it was written, it was played by Sam and Cas.

Pam did it better.

It was like someone was racing up the stairs or against time itself as the two rhythm setting musicians fought for dominance. The crowd ate it up. And you could tell they both were already dripping sweat by the time the song ended and they tuned it back and finally jumped into their last fateful album.

‘Scarecrow’ was haunted and foreboding, reminiscent of early 90s metal that you knew Dean adored. It was also Cas’ favorite track off that entire album. And Kevin killed the bridge as the keyboard turned into an ancient organ chasing the crows away with the dawn. Charlie even added a cackling Vincent Price at the end that couldn’t be topped.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?!” Lee took the words out of Dean’s mouth, which earned him a kick in the ass. They were having a blast up there and it was infectious.

The crowd roared.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dean bellowed. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to bring somebody out for this next number.”

Shrill ruckus pierced the air, they knew what was coming.

“She’s our very dear friend and we just so happened to convince her to tag along with us this tour. You know her, you love her, please— give a very warm welcome to the incomparable Ms. Annie Hawkins!”

Everyone screamed and stomped, watching as the spotlight followed Annie from the farside of the stage towards the standing mics centerstage.

“Oh, she looks amazing,” Bela spoke for the first time since you’d gotten back. And she wasn’t wrong.

“The girls probably had a blast with her in their dressing room,” you tacked on thoughtfully.

“Her top though,” Bela continued. “I want it.”

You chuckled at Bela’s priorities and quickly got sucked back into what was happening barely thirty feet away.

“You sure you’re ready over there?” Annie teased as Dean adjusted his mic after rushing to set down his guitar.

The crowd laughed in unison.

“I’m ready, do you think they’re ready?” Dean asked coyly, gesturing to the crowd.

All around you camera screens glowed and flashed burst through the darkened arena. Concert security lined the stage and guarded the partitioned areas for the crew and band to navigate the area. Until that moment you really hadn’t been able to pull any single response from the cacophony. You hadn’t been trying anyway. But when Annie goaded Dean a cluster of women in the pit got your attention.

“And here I thought you were out here warming them up for me?” Annie teased.

The crowd loved it, but one catty comment made it feel like you and Bela were right there up on stage with them. “Bela needs to get her man before that cougar gets too cozy up there.”

They eyed your little corner below the VIP suspiciously. You missed whatever Dean said in response, instead watching the women glare and Bela adamantly ignore them in equal measure.

But then the song began. A slow and slinking start reminiscent of Springsteen’s Fire. Which you clocked the first time you heard it, but that was just the intro. The lyrics started up as a quick conversation, a compromise even and then they were harmonizing into the chorus. 

The band hadn’t done many duets, even with such talented singers in their ranks. It wasn’t their style. But this song felt like it had always existed, it was timeless and familiar and really fucking catchy. Annie beamed at Dean when he slipped closer on stage and they belted out the final lines.

It made you feel like they were performing only for you, for their people. It was honest and intimate, but this wasn’t rehearsal or karaoke and the audience would not be forgotten.

Everyone cheered. Even the judgy bitches that kept watching Bela at your side.

Dean hugged Annie and made sure she got the reception she deserved, egging the crowd on and bowing in homage to her talent.

She rolled her eyes, did a snarky curtsy and waved her way back off stage.

“You guys seem to be digging that one. Maybe we could play some more new stuff for y’all tonight?” Lee asked. “I mean— the album isn’t out yet.”

Naturally, the crowd shouted and begged for more.

Bela turned to whisper to you. “They’re not gonna get in trouble for this are they?”

You shook your head. “They’ve got permission to do a few songs until the album is actually out and then they’ll change up the set list to cover more of the new stuff.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, bootlegs always exist, but this way they’re building excitement but not giving away the farm.”

“Lee!” Dean admonished playfully. 

“What?!” Lee spat back, smirking.

“Sam— tell him.”

Sam shook his head, always stoic on stage.

Dean kept up the ruse. “I don’t know if we should. Pamela?”

Pamela thudded the bass drum and hit the crash. 

“Okay! Pammy’s in— Kevo?” Lee kept the momentum going.

And without any warning or time for Kevin to actually respond, they burst into the opening of 'Prophet and Loss'. 

“I would kill for a drink—- is there somebody we could send to concessions?” Bela asked midsong. And you looked around, wondering if any of the staff could actually leave their posts without getting in trouble. 

You suddenly felt like a bad host. “We’ll get you a box for Vegas. I know this isn’t as fun as it sounds standing for two hours straight.”

“Y/N, I’m fine. Promise.”

“Okay, well I’ll go after the next song. You want anything, Tiny?” you asked your silent companion.

“All good, boss.” He replied and straightened his stance, clasping his hands in front of him.

Kevin silenced the space with the burst of chords at the beginning of his solo, showcasing what Julliard training could do and how rock’n’roll could still be classy as hell. The key changed, turning the mood broken and lamenting as they stumbled into the bridge where Dean pelted out about losing Cas without so much detail.

 Dean let the note hang in the air. “'Prophet and Loss', everybody.”

Whistles filled the air, keeping the mood somber but with enough reception to know that small offering was gratefully accepted.

“Thanks— uh, I, we really appreciate being here tonight and being able to share some of the new album with everybody. But we know you wanna hear the stuff you know, too. So we’re gonna hop back to it and have a kick ass night. How’s that sound?” Dean checked in.

The crowd cheered.

“Did you hear something?” Dean asked Lee jokingly.

The crowd got louder.

“I don’t know if they’re up for much more,” Lee taunted back.

You rolled your eyes and turned to Bela. “Okay, I’ll be back, text me if you think of anything besides drinks.”

The crowd continued to take the bait, howling behind you as you made your way out of the off limit areas and up a side stairway towards the general admission cavern-like hallway. For the first time it felt like all day, you exhaled. Your pass flapped against your chest as you strutted quickly towards the concession area, bypassing the VIP lounge because you didn’t want to get distracted by Madison or any of the mid-level suits that might be milling around.

You could have stolen something from the dressing room, but that wouldn’t have taken nearly as long and you needed some time off of Bela duty tonight. Which made you feel guilty as hell. She was your best friend! She didn’t do anything wrong. And yet you were incredibly frustrated with even the thought of her.

So you waited in line, ordered two extremely overpriced and depressingly weak cocktails, and put them on your expense card. 

The thing about regret is that it isn’t a one time experience. There might have been a moment in the process of you contriving this scenario for Dean’s redemption where you second or third guessed yourself. But the biting sting of seeing him play happy with Bela online and even in person had come at you in waves.

Regret was bearable if it meant it worked, if Dean could have some peace.

But this wasn’t just regret, it was petulance and jealousy and injustice.

Because Bobby had asked all the way back in the beginning, why couldn’t it have been you playing arm candy? And the fact that people could see what you had tried so hard to bury and ignore plain as day, well, it made you feel incredibly small and even more pathetic.

There was no reason for you to be the one at Dean’s side. But damn did you want to be.

And somehow you had managed to keep that from one of the most important people in your life. So it wasn’t just that Bela was getting a part of Dean that you’d never have. Or parts. You shuttered at the thought of where his mouth had been. It was that your best friend hadn’t even clocked the elephant in the room.

Like she didn’t even know you at all.

Or maybe that was on you too. Maybe you hadn’t been honest with yourself until it was too late. How could you put that blame on her too?

You slammed your drink and got back in line for a replacement, not wanting to return with only Bela’s cup like some kind of maid. You could hear the crowd singing along with Lee on ‘A Reaper’s Offering’, a bluesy cut from their second studio album. 

You probably had another two songs before you’d miss anything else new. But you also knew Bela was waiting and the longer the show went on, the more drunk and ballsy random fans could get. You couldn’t leave her with the forever nonplussed Tiny for backup. You smiled at the woman working the bar cart apologetically and ordered another husk of a cocktail.

After another stream of applause, the opening bars of ‘Abandon All Hope’ started and you knew you had to book it. This was Jo’s song, you couldn’t miss it. You never left Dean to get through this one alone. Huffing down the service steps with two drinks in hand in heels was something that you managed only from practice, but you made it in time for the first chorus.

“Oh aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bela murmured to her drink before sipping it and wincing. “It’ll do. Took you long enough,” she teased and winked, hip checking you as you struggled to get your breathing under control as you mouthed along with Dean’s words.

“Trapped by your side with no exit, we had to let you go—”

Bela quickly picked up on your shift in mood and reeled in the playfulness, for which you gave her a grateful glance before turning back to try and lock eyes with Dean on stage.

“Defending that night while trying to give comfort, we should have known—”

“To abandon all hope,” you sang out, the last lyric rising up to hover in the air. 

Dean turned and glanced in your direction and then looked again once he finally saw you. He nodded and tapped his heart and you returned the gesture, you both kept her safe as you could now. He blew a kiss to the ceiling and bowed.

The crowd continued to echo around you, suffocating yet as distant as thunder. 

“Alrighty, folks, we’re gonna take a short break for Sammy to find another shirt and we’ll get you one last sneak peak,” Dean explained. “Kevin? Think you and Pam can keep ‘em busy for me?”

“Aye-aye,” Kevin said and saluted, out of range of his mic stand.

Pam started in with the count and Kevin peeled in down from the upper registers, like he was sliding in from Heaven and crashing a party. The instrumental interlude was a mesmerizing feat of jumping genres and killing time while showcasing just what all each of them could do. But you weren’t even paying attention. Dean made a beeline for the back of the stage and he wound around security until he could find you. 

He gripped the ball of your shoulder and leaned in. “I didn’t see you until the end— had me worried, Trouble!”

He had to talk over the crowd, his back firmly towards the nearest wedge of fans.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!”

He stared at you, sweaty and down to a single layer, earpiece still in his left ear. 

“You’re killing it up there,” Bela said, making you both stop and blink. Dean grinned and pulled her into a hug, a boyfriend hug, arms tight around her waist so her arms can loop around his neck. She even kicked a leg back for balance. 

God was she good.

“You keep an eye on her, okay? She’s gonna need tissues for the next one,” Dean warned playfully down his nose at Bela about you.

She rolled her eyes. “You are a menace on the emotional, aren’t you?”

“All in a day’s work,” Dean shrugged and set her back on her own two feet.

The crackle of a nearby walkie made Dean look around for whoever was sent to find him. “Sam’s looking for you,” an unimpressed lackey of Benny’s pointed out from ten feet away.

“Yeah, I bet he is. Alright, well, see you ladies later— Tiny,” Dean stepped back nodding. He soon disappeared only to hop up on the wing of the stage, grabbing an acoustic and sliding it on.

After the chaos of the crowd dissipated from Pamela’s and Kevin’s antics, Dean and Sam walked on stage and sat down on a pair of stools that had been left out for them. They didn’t look at each other or even the crowd and you knew in that moment that Dean hadn’t been lying. You weren’t gonna survive the next song live with a dry eye.

‘Brothers Keeper’ nearly took down the entire venue. 

Cell phones and lighters blazed in the dark, enraptured space as Dean and Sam sang about each other, about family, and about forgiveness.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 27: Polyphony

[cipheramnesia]

A Girl And Her Dog - A tribute/fuck you to "A Boy & His Dog," Viktor Blud is the telepathic despot of the Gravestone River, but that won't stop Rosalie and her dog Champion from going after him to take their revenge. Champ is more of a borzoi pangolin monstrosity than a dog but let's not get picky. The setting is a sort of post apocalyptic weird west on the planet where gods go to die. As seen in Lisa Frank Gulch.

Short Change Hero - Down on her luck two and a half foot ex-allotment farmer turned hopeful adventurer turned disillusioned bouncer / part time leg-breaker Obsidian Bonesplinter didn't want to rock the boat but when her old family shows up in the magical city Eliriad they get caught up in a bad way. Now she's got a dead body to explain and a murder to solve if she doesn't want the cops to pin it all on her and the only roommate she ever had with a steady job. A hardboiled noir mystery taking place in a fantasy world of magic and elves and fantastical creatures.

Saw Down Heaven - Follow up to Girl Bites God, a ragtag band of queers and superhumans try to drive police out of their local community and set up a patrol free zone outside of the reach of law enforcement and, worse, the FCC. With the help of the mutant ringworm colony and hole in reality which together animate the undead corpse of Alice Buzzsaw (aka the Suicide Gorgon) and escaped mental patient AthenA Six, maybe they can pull it off. Takes place in the disentangled world, a setting where our world is slowly being folded into a parallel reality where physical matter never existed.

[estrellami-1]

For steddie prompts, what about….Eddie introducing Steve to the band!

Maybe they’ve been quietly together for a while and Eddie finally feels ready to be more public. BUT he’s dating “king” Steve. How will his friends react?

Feel free to skip if you’ve written something similar ❤️

Ooh okay I LOVE this idea. Please keep in mind I know nothing about the band or how to do their voices so. Like I’m only 84% sure it’s Gareth, Jeff and Freak. Whom I’m naming Frank. Also I don’t remember who coined Emerson as Gareth’s last name but yes you are correct and I’m stealing it please and thank you.

“Hey, uh, guys?” Eddie coughs, turning around to face the rest of the band. “Listen, you, uh. You’ve been really cool, about the whole framed for murder thing, and the whole…” he wiggles his fingers, signifying everything he can’t talk about. “All of it. And, uh. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Gareth shares a look with Jeff. “We know, man. You’re seeing someone.”

Eddie blinks. “How?”

“You smile, like, all the time, dude. It’s kinda concerning. Your face is gonna get stuck like that.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s laughing. “Shit, man. It’s that obvious?”

“Kinda,” Jeff agrees.

“At least it is to us,” Frank adds. “We know you, man.”

“Listen,” Gareth says. “Whoever this person is. Do they make you happy?”

Eddie pulls a piece of hair across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

“He’s blushing!” Jeff crows. Eddie flips him off.

Gareth flaps his hands at both of them. “Shut up! Children, both of you! Eddie!” He grasps Eddie’s shoulders. “They treat you well?”

“Better than I thought I deserved.”

“Goddamn,” Frank mutters. “Where do I find someone like that?”

“Right here,” Jeff croons, batting his eyelashes and leaning in. Frank, unimpressed, pokes his forehead with a drumstick.

“I work with children,” Gareth mutters, which is funny considering he’s the youngest in their ragtag group. Eddie chooses not to mention it. “Listen, man, we’re not gonna care. Man, woman, somewhere in between, as long as they make you happy.”

“Exactly,” Jeff adds. “As long as it’s not, like, Jason Carver or some shit.”

“Or a kid,” Frank points out. Eddie makes a face.

“God, no, never. To either of those. Listen, just. He’s changed, alright? Can you trust that?”

Gareth and Jeff share another look. Jeff steps closer. “You’re the best judge of character we know, Eddie. If you say he’s changed, we’ll do our best to listen.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Because he, uh. He’s gonna come pick me up today.”

Frank hits the hi-hat, letting it rattle. “You’re shitting me. We’re gonna meet him?”

Eddie nods, pulling another piece of hair in front of his face.

“Oh, man,” Jeff says. “You’re gone on this dude. Can you tell us anything about him?”

Eddie bites his lip. “I mean, you’re about to see him. But during the whole… everything. He saved my life more than once.”

“Then we owe him a whole lot,” Gareth says seriously.

Eddie smiles at his friends. “Thanks, guys. Alright, back to practice, Frank, count us in!”

Towards the end of practice, a car pulls up. Eddie doesn’t notice, he’s got his eyes closed, focused on what he’s playing. Jeff and Gareth give each other another look.

Steve Harrington steps out.

Frank misses a beat.

Eddie turns around, brow furrowed in question, then turning back to the front and grinning when he sees Steve walk up.

The song’s barely over before Eddie’s putting his guitar down and practically launching himself at Steve, who laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie. “Hey, Eds.”

“Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, hugging him tighter before just as suddenly releasing him and turning to the rest of the band. “Steve, these are the guys. Gareth, Jeff and Frank. Guys, Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve, Eddie’s said literally only good things about you. Today.” Gareth offers him a hand, and he accepts, laughing.

“Yeah, we’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but he never did it. I finally realized I’d have to actually come up here if he’s ever gonna do it.”

Jeff frowns, cutting his eyes over to Eddie. “You wanted to tell us, though?”

“Yes, definitely! It was my idea, actually, just. You know how my brain is about things sometimes.”

Steve frowns, poking Eddie’s head. “Be nice.”

Eddie pretends to bite at Steve’s retreating finger. “To who? I am!”

“To yourself,” Steve laughs.

“Oh,” Eddie says, then grins slyly. “Why would I, when I have you to do it for me?”

Steve grins back. “Because if you don’t,” he starts, finishing by whispering something in Eddie’s ear that has him gasping.

“You wouldn’t.”

“See, that’s your choice, isn’t it?”

Eddie frowns. “You’re mean.” But he leans into Steve’s side anyways.

“Eddie,” Frank says, “how in the hell did you get together with your high school crush?”

“Aw, you had a crush on me?” Steve says happily. “How embarrassing.”

“We’re dating, Steve.”

He just shrugs. “Still.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “To answer your question, Frank…” he locks eyes with Steve, and they both start giggling. “Threaten him in a boat shed?”

“Try to get him back with his ex?”

Eddie groans, hiding his face in Steve’s shoulder. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

“Probably not.”

“Somehow I have more questions now than I started with,” Frank says, “and I’m scared of what the answers might be.”

“Hey,” Gareth says suddenly, loud enough Steve and Eddie jump apart. “What the hell are you thinking, man?” He addresses Eddie, walking past them to the mouth of the garage. He doesn’t miss the way Steve angles himself in front of Eddie, trying to protect him. Good. He shuts the garage door. “You know how nosy my neighbors are, man, you can’t just do whatever you want! If people see-”

“Shit, man,” Eddie says, relaxing. “You’re right. Sorry. Thank you.”

“I’m happy for you,” he says, noting the way Steve’s shoulders go down. “But you’ve gotta be careful, man, we just got you back.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “You’re right.”

Gareth smiles, then. “Let’s go inside. You know my mom made lemonade, and I think we all want to hear how exactly this happened.” He smirks, gesturing at Steve and Eddie.

“You guys go ahead,” Eddie tells them. “I’d like to say hi to him first.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, moving towards the door. “I’m coming back out here in two minutes,” he warns.

He gives them ten.

[sunny12th]

I just think it's funny how dany has basically experience damn near everything a person/leader could experience in her short lifetime (except for a loving family). every possible disaster or crisis, she's been there already. miserable and abused family + marriage? survived it. miscarriage? been there, done that. murder? ye. leading a ragtag band thru a fucking desert and almost dying (again)? handled it. facing off against magical undead weirdos? got her first braid for it. conquering cities and inciting revolution? plotting violence and survival? making herself a queen, reconfiguring an economy, dealing with a plague, a coup, a war on several fronts, a sassy blue-haired mistress, creepy advisors, not very smart advisors, scheming advisors, magical visions, magical animals? done all that (to varying degrees of success) and then some.

by the time she gets to westeros, she's gonna be so unfazed by the ice zombies and it'll be hilarious. of course this would happen now. she's cursed to experience everything and anything that could Possibly happen so now, of course, she's gotta face off against some ice zombies and the heart of winter (whatever tf that is).

[pinespittinink]

🌿 pinespittinink reintro 🌿

hello and welcome to my blog 💌 i'm easing myself back into writeblr and hope to meet some new people and continue to vibe as i always have on here. this is not my main blog, so while i may follow you, it won't be from this account. i don't follow or engage with minors; all my work is adult and queernorm unless otherwise indicated.

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a little bit about me: catherine ~ she/her ~ capricorn ~ pan & poly ~ 28 ~ 18+ only ➡  about page ⬅ ​

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i've been around here sporadically since 2018 and always tend to come home; i like prompts and ask games and tags and fun things. i write love stories in sci-fi and fantasy settings, and i'm working towards traditional publishing always. currently i'm querying my adult fantasy standalone, The Great Glavenisean Theater (The Night Circus x House of Leaves). i enjoy writing nsfw content, lush scene setting, and detailed emotional headspaces.

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🖋 my wips 🖋

the great glavenisean theater 🎭 {wip intro} {general tag} spec fic/fantasy standalone. a tailor goes to the big city and gets swept up by a phantasmagorical theater with an interdimensional portal in the stage, gets a crush on a cute guy working the rigging, and maybe starts to lose his mind as shit gets Weird™️

in the deep of the trees 🍃 {wip intro} {general tag} high fantasy, romantic subplot, standalone. (bi4bi otp). a social-climber uses subterfuge, blackmail, and murder to achieve his ambitions, and the court eccentric that he's in love with gets weirder and weirder when a new discovery is brought back by an exploration team.

star white 🌟 {wip intro} {general tag} romantic space fantasy, standalone. (gay otp) one man searches for the love of his life after he's been abducted by sentient dark matter, and spends millions of years travelling through space with a semi-organic AI ship.

solene's verse 🌊 epic fantasy, duology. (t4t otp) a young self-taught wizard makes a ton of bad decisions, as a group of ragtag youths from the cesspit of the world try to rescue the elder brother of one of their own from a tower of cultists.

the revenant (working title) dark fantasy, duology(???? who knows). a one-woman-war-machine who cannot die fights alongside her childhood best friend and lover and their loyal band of vagabonds to bring down the corrupt royalty desecrating their kingdom

the wasteland (working title) weird spec fic/dark fantasy, novella. a lousy hot-tempered fire elemental and a shitty light necromancer embark on the world's worst walking roadtrip to a castle on the wasteland falling away at their feet.

[odyssey solomon's wip - mad max fury road x the road x the locked tomb, post-apocalyptic fantasy. father and son against the world plus a weird shapeshifting bitch]

[gentle poly cathedral wip - romantic fantasy, novella. gargoyles and psalms and stained glass, my beloveds]

[soft poly space wip - romantic sci-fi, duology. androids and black holes and librarians, oh my!]

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🎐tag guide🎐

my writing 🌸 my edits  🌸 my poetry 🌸 sap spill 🌸 {original text posts, not always writing related} uwu romance 🌸 {umbrella tag for everything love and romance related} trope talk🌸 {umbrella tag. overlaps often with uwu romance} character work🌸 {what it says on the tin} compilations🌸 {tumblr web weaving posts} i live here🌸 {stuff i jive with on a molecular level}

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[ Romantic and indulgent prose full of filigree, worlds full of whimsy, mystery and a hint of danger, a core of tenderness rooted at the heart of every story. Your writing is always penned in the manner of a love letter not just to the craft or even as an ode to romance but to the subject of love in itself. ] – @aninkwellofnectar​ 🌹

“for whom / and to whom all this love, / all this light falling.” 

–@ragewrites, Film Still, for pinespittinink. 

[direwolfrules]

Would anyone care for some unsolicited fanfic recs in this trying time?

Star Wars (because I have no other life):

(Re)convene by Nightfall_1409:

10 years after sacrificing himself for the Rebellion, Ezra Bridger is offered the chance to turn back the clock and alter the course of history forever- the Force sending back with him a ragtag band of heroes, all whom have proven themselves worthy of the chance, all of whom have the drive to prevent the events that turned their lives into living nightmares, all of whom have the chance to save their loved ones from their fates.

Now 35 years in the past, returned to the era of the Republic 6 years before the rise of the Empire, 3 years before the start of the Clone Wars, he has to unite his scattered allies- Ahsoka Tano, Din Djarin, Boba and Omega Fett- and put together the puzzle of what caused the galaxy to fall, or they'll all be doomed to watch it happen again.

Personal Thoughts:

I really like this one. Time travel is my favorite trope. It’s well written, it draws you in, and the author has done an excellent job of mashing up Legends and Canon in fun and unique ways.

It has everything: Force Sensitive Omega, Tired Space Dad Din Djarin accidentally becoming a main character, Ezra and Anakin as chaotic besties, no Jedi bashing, and much more that would be spoilers.

The author tries to update twice a month. It’s really good. Also this is the only one I’m including the summary for because I’m lazy.

Time-Traveling Artoo by SpiderMansUnfriendlyNeighbor

Crack fic go brrrr. Seriously though, it’s just Artoo fucking with Sidious and then kidnapping children to matchmake. I was laughing the whole way through.

A Means of Survival by LessAttitudeMoreAltitude

In which Ursa finds a half dead Jedi Padawan named Caleb and the Mandalorian Adoption instinct activates. Listen, Sabine has decided the Jetti’ad is her favorite person, they can’t just not adopt him

The Time Heals ‘verse by jessicas_pi

Force Sensitive Sabine travels back in time to the Clone Wars, accidentally bonds with a Force Entity that I’m 99% sure is the Brother, becomes Obi-Wan’s Padawan, and keeps accidentally-on-purpose bringing people back to the past.

Also Quinlan Vos is there.

It’s Sabezra if that’s a turn off for anyone.

You Either Die A Hero… by RennyBanette

The 501st gets trapped in a time loop on Umbara. Delightful crack full of Krell murder and fire.

The Desert Storm by Blue_Sunshine

This is the Star Wars time travel fic. It’s so good. 4 years after the fall of the Republic Obi-Wan gets caught in a sandstorm, and when it passes he’s back in time when Anakin’s just a three year old clinging to his mom’s skirt.

Naturally, Obi-Wan frees the Skywalkers, changes his name to Ben Naasade, takes his younger self as a Padawan, and gives Mace Windu so many headaches.

Featuring: Jedi Shmi Skywalker, Pong Krell getting his shit wrecked, Legends stuff, Jedi Shmi Skywalker, Mandalorians being awesome, Alderaan being awesome, Jedi Shmi Skywalker, Obitine, the Sith being evil and creepy, and most importantly, Jedi Knight Shmi Skywalker

[twola]

Devil's Backbone - Owanjila IV

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC/Reader POV 

Tags: Longfic, Slow Burn, Smut (18+), Violence, Canon-Typical Injuries

Limpany’s burning was a lot more than meets the eye. Deception, greed, and murder follow everyone touched by Leviticus Cornwall. A story where the Van der Linde gang gets even more inescapably involved in Cornwall’s dealings, with the survivor of the massacre at the heart of it all. Slow burn. Pre-Blackwater and beyond.

Owanjila IV: The Open Wound

The band heads northward, into the Grizzlies, to find John. Braving the inhospitable weather, they find more than just him.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

Whoever they were in Strawberry talkin’ of a blizzard rolling through the Grizzlies were right. Very right. 

Hell, as soon as the ragtag crew of outlaws crossed the state line into Ambarino, the dusting of snow on the ground grew and grew as the horses hiked northward and upward in altitude. You’re thankful for the woolen coat and shawl Abigail insisted on wrapping your head in, and the gloves she gave you as well. The snow blanketed the ground once the shadow of Mount Hagen was reached.

“You gonna keep that old boy?” Dutch calls over to Arthur from his mount, buried under a large, dark woolen coat.

“Haven’t had a chance to find another one - once we rescue the fair princess, I’ll probably go on over to Valentine and get a new horse.”

Dutch chuckles, amused at Arthur's irritation at John. Beneath him, The Count steps high through the growing snowbanks, the trail barely visible under the blanket of white snow that has settled. Three horses climb northward, up, up into the mountains.

While the snow isn't actively falling, a cold, bitter wind sweeps across the white landscape, trying to force the group away from the accursed mountains, as if warning intruders to stay back and seek refuge in more hospitable lands.

Micah, bundled tight atop his horse Baylock, spits on the ground and blows out hot air through his nose. He snarls, rolling his shoulders, whilst looking at you as you ride behind Arthur in his saddle. "I hope you know where you're going, missy."

You glance over Arthur's shoulder from your seat behind him, and lean up to point over his shoulder with one hand, the other one around his ribcage to keep you on the horse. "There, that's Lake I-Isabella," Your teeth stutter as you raise your jaw from the scarf wrapped around your neck, "F-follow that c-creek to the right - C-Colter should be just a bit further n-north."

You huddle closer into Arthur’s back as the wind gusts more snow directly down the valley as it opens over the large partially frozen lake. He turns his head slightly, “Y’okay back there?”

“J-j-just peachy.” You stutter, shivering uncontrollably. You’ve turned your body into Arthur’s back, trying to use him as a shield against the biting wind. 

“Alright, enough of this.” He pulls on the Walker’s reins, and the horse whinnies, and comes to a stop. You back off him slightly, as he moves his leg over the saddle to get off the horse. 

Arthur points to the saddle. “C’mon, up you go. I’ll ride behind you.”

You nod, slowly. Pulling your skirts in front of you, you slide yourself into the saddle, throwing your leg across the horse’s back. The cold wind chafes your legs, only partially hidden by your skirts and the heavy woolen stockings Abigail also forced upon you.

Arthur swings back up on the horse, shaking snow off his boots, and settles in on his saddle behind you, flush to your back. You're glad for the scarf that was given you to bury your face into as a blush overtakes your cheeks, heightening even more when one of his arms wraps around your belly, pulling your frame tightly against his as he retakes the reins in his other hand and spurs the horse forward.

Though the rest of the ride was made in silence, by the time the men reached the old mining town, with its dilapidated buildings and lack of life, you will admit, you aren’t as cold anymore.

-

The valley in which the mining town lies loses the sun quickly to the peaks in the west, prompting Dutch to proclaim that the group would rest there for the night, and at dawn, the men would go out searching for John. 

You sit on the cold floor of the cabin, wrapped in the blanket stuffed between your bedroll, next to the old hearth, which mercifully, Arthur was able to clear out and get a fire started. 

Only one or two of the buildings in this old town was habitable - and that was stretching the truth. The large cabin the group had huddled in barely kept out the cold, but it would have to do. The horses were stabled and there was at least a semblance of a roof over your head.

Dutch wrings his hands within his gloves seated on an old chair in front of the hearth. Micah and Arthur have gone to smoke outside as the darkness of night sets in.

“What in God’s name brought you to this hell hole?” Dutch asks, blowing into his hands while staring into the fire.

You swallow the spoonful of beans you’ve been nursing from the can warmed over the fire. “We traveled through from the north and spent some time in Colorado. Wasn’t snowing when we came through though.”

“Mhm,” Dutch nods, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans closer to the hearth, “What was it that you said your husband did?”

Your eyes narrow as you stare into the flames, and you try not to flinch and keep a straight face. 

Here’s the thing, you didn’t say. And you certainly weren’t going to open yourself up to Dutch asking further probing questions that would lead to Limpany and Leviticus Cornwall. 

It's warm enough, at least next to the fire, for you to unwind the scarf from around your head, your blonde hair frizzing messily from the low bun you've pulled it back into. "He worked in Saint Denis for years... but then we left to pursue our fortune and lives in the west." 

Dutch nods, staring into the flames, the answer at least enough to satiate him for the moment. An awkward silence settled as you scrape the last bits of food from the can before setting it down next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a beaten-up tin bucket in the dark corner of the cabin - dirty, but looking like it's not broken, you shrug the blanket from your shoulders and crawl over your knees to grab it, shaking dust and dirt. You stand up, moving closer to the hearth to see clearer, inspecting the bucket for holes. Once you see none, you look back toward Dutch for a moment.

"I'm going to go gather some snow to boil for water."

Dutch nods, reaching his hands out toward the fire for warmth, "Stay warm."

You grit your teeth to the inevitable gust of freezing air once you push out the rickety door of the cabin and stomp through the shin-deep snow away from the road - to where the white powder was undisturbed - virginal. You swear under your breath as a breeze makes your ears sting - you left the scarf on the cabin floor and your hair was doing little to nothing to keep your head warm.

Stooping over, you place the bucket on the ground and start scooping snow into the bucket, filling it halfway before an arm grabs you around the waist and you're roughly hauled against a man's body, yelping in surprise.

“C’mon now sweetie, it’s gonna be a cold night, you should spend it in my bedroll.” Micah hums in your ear, arm tight around your waist.

“Get off of me.” You hiss back, trying to pull yourself away, knowing the precarious situation you find yourself in. If you scream, who are these men going to believe? Some woman that was just brought back to the gang, or one of the money-earning established guns? Arthur, maybe, but certainly not Dutch. Not Dutch who seems to leer at you at times with the same dark-eyed stare.

“Breakin’ my heart here, little Ruth.” Micah’s fetid, whiskey-addled breath pours over your ear and you whip your head in the other direction.

Fortunately, you gain some courage and dig the heel of your boot into his foot and he lets go enough for you to break his hold, stumbling forward as he curses, snarling at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a lantern at the next building over, the open awning where the horses are stabled, the blue of Arthur’s long coat moves in the orange light.

You hitch your skirt and run, gasping aloud as you pray that Micah doesn’t run after you - there’s no way you can outrun him, he’ll catch you in the twenty feet between you and the building. He’ll catch you and drag you and you don’t want to imagine further what he’ll do to you.

You can hear him curse behind you and your heart tries to claw out your throat as you struggle through the snow, the drifts halfway up your shin, soaking your stockings under your skirt and pouring into your boots.

If you can just reach…

“Whoa there!”

You collide with Arthur’s back, gasping and throwing your arms to wind around the trunk of his waist. He turns in surprise, and you bury yourself into his coat, praying for salvation. One of his arms settles loosely on your back as he turns fully, facing you as you clutch desperately at him.

“R-Ruth-?”

You’re gasping for air against him, your face buried in his coat, and it’s then that he looks up and sees Micah scowling halfway between the buildings.

“Don’t let him-” you mumble into his coat, and upon hearing your fearful tone, he winds the arm braced across your back firmer, drawing you against him.

Micah slinks away in a lizard-like fashion under the weight of Arthur’s glare. 

You open your eye slightly and see him head back into the main building, but for a moment, you do not move.

Selfishly, you try to hold on to this feeling of being protected, clutching at the fur lining of Arthur’s coat, extremely mindful of the small circles his thumb is making against your lower back.

-

The morning breaks and you’re huddled in the corner of the room, having not slept much at all overnight - the thought of Micah was enough to keep you awake. The sounds of the men getting up and getting a pot of coffee started pulls you into a sitting position at least, feigning a yawn as you move to stand up, rewrapping the blanket around your shoulders.

“Missus Shaw,” Dutch clears his throat - “The boys and I are gonna go scout around for John. You’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“S-sure,” You nod, shivering slightly. Dutch hands you a cup of coffee and you smile back at him, he nods in reply. He takes one of the polished, glinting revolvers from his belt and places it in your free hand, “You take this if there’s any trouble.”

You stare at the gun, engraved with swirling lines, for a long moment before looking back up to Dutch. In the man’s dark eyes, you can sense weariness - perhaps the first time you’ve seen it.

You nod, sheepishly, as if you were a child. He gently clasps your shoulder before turning back toward the door.

They leave, high on their horses, into the mountain passes, and once the sounds of them galloping away fade, you are left in the cold cabin, staring into the fire.

Hours go by. You scuttle around the cabin, trying to stay warm and keep the fire lit. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the sounds of horses outside make you hurry over to the door and whip it open. Clouds have rolled into the afternoon sky, darkening the valley as the wind grows even colder. 

Three horses return to Colter - and you see behind Dutch a fourth man leaning limply against him.

“Missus Shaw!” Dutch calls out as he brings The Count to a stop on the icy road, Arthur and Micah following him. They dismount and go to pull the bleeding body off the back of the horse.

“John’s in a bad way - ” Dutch states as he slides out of his saddle, Arthur and Micah wrap their arms under Marston’s and slowly drag him into the cabin. He groans in pain, his feet stumbling along the way.

You cannot hide the cringe on your face when you look at John - his face is nearly torn open, huge gashes across his cheek,

“Bring him here, lay him down by the fire.” You say as you follow them inside the old cabin. Dutch lumbers behind you.

“Had a bit of a run-in with some wolves,” Dutch says as John is laid out on the floor, and you hurry to the sparse supplies that were packed before grabbing the bucket of snowmelt and getting down on your knees next to the fire and where John lays.

John winces but blinks up at you with a groan as Arthur and Micah step away, ostensibly to smoke outside. Dutch follows, allowing you to work. 

“God, John - You almost got eaten there…” You say with an air of pity as you reach toward the gashes on his face.

John grimaces as you lightly brush over the broken skin of his cheek. “Jesus, woman.”

“I have to stitch these shut, it’s gonna hurt, I’m sorry,” you apologize in a pleading tone, “can you lay your head on my lap here?”

He groans, using the last bit of his strength to scoot himself closer to you and lay his head on your lap, closing his eyes to ward off another wave of pain. You brush back the locks of his tangled hair, tucking it behind his ear. “Turn a little for me.”

John groans again, cursing under his breath as he turns on his shoulder, facing toward you. His marred cheek continues to ooze blood.

“Here we go,” you whisper gently, holding the ridges of the wound in place as you pierce the skin for the first suture. 

A hissed curse escapes John’s mouth, and as you pull the thread through his skin, his eyes squeeze shut in pain. He has the wherewithal to wait until your fingers start pulling the thread through his cheek and the needle is away from his face for his hand to swing forward and grab the meat of your thigh, digging in. You try not to jump, noting how white his knuckles are as you move to pierce his skin again.

“Goddamn.” He mutters, his fingers grasping your thigh painfully.  You haven’t the heart to take his hand from your leg and decide to simply allow the man some comfort, however small it may be. 

You work, as quickly as you can, but the stitching is still slow on the two long gashes on his face. As you tie off the last suture, John grimaces, trying not to move his cheek, his fingers pulsing on your thigh again. 

You put the needle down, grab your stained handkerchief again, and pour more whiskey on it. Glancing back down, your expression is pained as you brush his hair back again gently, not wishing to cause this man more pain. “Last thing, then we’re done,” you say softly.

Dabbing the alcohol-soaked fabric against his face, you pass gently against the black sutures crawling up his cheeks like spiders burrowing into his skin. John swears, loudly, as your other hand moves to his brow, dusting your fingers over his skin in an attempt to calm, "Shh, shh.”

“Why’d you come to find me? Dutch said it was your idea to come up here. I ain’t been nothin’ but short with you since you joined us.”

“Abigail begged us to come find you. I value her friendship. And she values you, despite the volume of your arguments.”

John stares up at you, for once, at a loss for words, a guilty look in the one eye that remains uncovered by bandages.

The injured man shudders and groans as another wave of pain radiates through him.

“Here, hold my hand. Takes your mind off it. Just make sure not to crush my fingers or the stitching on your shirts is gonna be a lot less straight.”

He snorts softly, taking your outstretched hand somewhat meekly. A grimace works over his face again and he squeezes your fingers. Your other hand brushes his hair back from his forehead, taming it somewhat as you gently stroke the crown of his head.

You begin to hum, trying everything possible to help to comfort this man. If there was one thing you couldn’t stand, it was seeing someone in agony.

The door opens and shuts behind you, but you give it little notice, continuing to run your fingers lightly through John’s messy hair.

There, sitting in front of the fireplace with John Marston’s head in your lap, humming a soft song and holding his hand, is where the gruff enforcer of the group finds you.

And for some uncontrollable reason, some flare of emotion long buried, Arthur Morgan takes in the scene and scowls.

-

The howl of the icy wind through the valley rattles against the rotting wood of the cabin. John has finally fallen asleep after several gulps of whiskey from a bottle that the men had brought, laid out on a blanket in front of the fire. 

“Ain’t got anything else to eat here,” Micah grumbles, “We need to leave in the morning.”

You look up from the linen bandages you’re washing in the lone bucket. Scowling, you pipe up, “John can’t ride like this. He needs at least a day or two before he could make it all the way back to the lake.”

Micah rolls his eyes, about to spit out something sarcastic when Dutch stands from his seat, rolling his shoulders. “She’s right. We need to hunker down here while John recovers for a few days.” 

“And eat what, boss? Ain’t anything left around here.” Micah spits on the floor, and you purse your lips in disgust.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe you and Arthur should go hunting...” Dutch trails off as he moves toward a broken window, night falling early in these damned mountains.

“What about that ranch John was looking for? I know there’s one to the northeast of here. May have been the same one.” You interrupt, fully cognizant of Micah’s glare under the rim of his white hat.

Dutch stares at you for a moment, until the hint of a smile appears under his mustache.

“Quite the industrious one, aren’t you, Missus Shaw?”

-

You suppose that’s how you wound up huddling under a small awning, next to a wagon with a dead man inside as gunshots ring out from inside the cabin. Opening your damn mouth, that’s why. The ranch you recall passing a year and a half ago on the way south was indeed here… but someone had found it before you did.

Specifically O’Driscolls.

The door to the cabin swings open, light pouring out into the night, as Arthur yells for you to come inside, you pull the scarf wound tightly around your head to hide your face as you trudge through the snow, trying to ignore the bleeding bodies of dispatched O’Driscolls that you need to step over to come inside. 

Dutch looks around the large cabin, nodding to Arthur and Micah to look for supplies. “Ruth, how about you check over by that cabinet and up in the loft?”

You nod, pulling the scarf down and laying it across your shoulders as you follow his instructions, passing empty bottles and cans that the O’Driscolls had left from their own ransacking of the cabin. Moving toward the opposite side of the cabin, you pause shortly in front of the roaring fireplace, warming your hands in your gloves for a moment.

You look at a photograph framed on the mantle. The man outside, dead in the wagon, in this photograph smiles, flanked by a blonde woman in a white dress, who also smiles.

God, a pain pangs at your heart, these poor people. This could have so easily been you. You wonder if that poor woman was forced to run as well - out into the blizzard, and cold wilderness. Was she dead also?

You grasp the frame of the photo and place it face down on the mantle before frowning and continuing your search for anything you can take - canned food, matches, alcohol. Not finding much that hadn’t already been plundered, you climb the ladder up to the loft, straightening your skirts as you reach the top, and start looking around for anything of value. You open a chest and start rooting through it.

“Now look what I’ve found!”

A screech from below jolts you. Notably feminine. There was a woman here?

You peer over the loft's edge to see Micah turn over the table onto its side, Dutch yells at him, shoving him backward and away from a half-feral woman, screaming and looking for items to throw at the outlaw. The poor woman was half-dressed, her dark blonde hair wild. Glass breaks from where the table was overturned, obscured from your view.

“You fool, Micah!

You pull back, stepping away from the loft’s edge, watching in horror as Micah snickers, lascivious, at the woman clad only in a chemise, she holds out a knife shakily to try and defend herself.

Defend herself against this man. Who would rape her or worse - you know he would. She’s not safe. You’re not safe. 

You keep stepping backward, heart racing, cold sweat dripping down your back, and catch your boot on the corner of the rug, falling to the floor and hitting your head on the open chest - and all goes black.

-

The cabin quickly goes up in flames as Dutch ushers the poor woman out, and Arthur has half a mind to throw Micah back in there and lock the door - the damned fool. He follows Dutch as they reach his stallion, and helps to lift the woman onto the horse.

“Where’s the other one?” Micah yells over the roar of the fire as he mounts up on his steed.

Arthur stops, staring at Micah, then looks around to find no sign of the other woman with the small party. He curses under his breath, handing the lantern back to Dutch as the new one is settled atop The Count’s rump.

“Go on - I’ll catch up!” He yells as he storms back toward the burning cabin.

He heaves his shoulder into the heavy door, nearly breaking it off of its hinges as he presses inside.

“Ruth!” Arthur yells, throwing his arm ahead of his face to shield himself from the fire. “Ruth!”

You’ve awoken from your fall to the heat of flames, coughing as your watering eyes try to focus. As you gain some semblance of bearing, you stumble back from the edge of the loft, against the wall as you scream in terror. You’ve backed your way into a corner to fall huddled on the floor, coughing violently as the flames lick closer. Blood trickles from your temple down your cheek.

A rafter crashes to the ground across the house and suddenly you’re back in your cabin, your little abode along the Dakota, watching your life burn to pieces around you.

You curl yourself tighter against the wall, shielding your face with your arms as uncontrollable tears burst forth from your eyes - paralyzed by the sight of the encroaching flames.

Frederick wasn’t coming to save you this time.

“Ruth!”

Your eyes dart toward the ladder a few feet away, where a black hat bursts up from the floor, Arthur’s blue coat covered in soot emerging up the ladder. 

“Ar-Arthur-!” You cough, the smoke quickly overtaking the loft as the fire builds and builds below. Arthur scrambles up the ladder, covering the lower half of his face with his arm as he coughs. “C’mon, Ruth -"

Another rafter crashes down and you cry out in fear, curling into yourself again as Arthur moves closer. You see him look back over the loft quickly before starting back toward the wall, where a small window seems to be the best route of escape.

He throws his elbow against the glass windowpane and it shatters. Turning back to you, he holds his hand out for you to take, but you feel like you’re stuck in molasses, unable to move, stricken as orange and red light takes over your vision. Arthur steps closer when you don’t move and stoops down toward you.

“You gotta - you, Ruth-” Arthur grabs your shoulders and shakes you as you hyperventilate, “C’mon, honey - you gotta get it together. We gotta go.”

You shake, a coughing fit overtaking you as the vision of him blurs behind your tears. Arthur mumbles something before grabbing you by the waist and heaving you over his shoulder. He heaves himself up, dragging the both of you through the broken-out window, tumbling to the raised awning roof a few feet below the sill. Arthur hacks, spitting on the snow-covered roof, pulling you down from his shoulder and dragging you to the edge of the overhang, where you struggle to stand. 

He grabs your waist, moves your frame with complete ease, and slides you both over the edge, falling several feet to the ground, cushioned by the several inches of snow. You land a few feet away from him, sprawled on your back, groaning slightly before you devolve into another coughing fit from the smoke. Your hair has spilled out from the scarf you used to keep your head warm, lost somewhere in the fire - a mess of wavy curls spread out over the snow.

Arthur grunts, rolling to his knees as he rasps, grabbing his hat from where it fell from his head, shaking it off before replacing it as he struggles up.

“Arthur! You two alright?” Dutch calls out from several feet away, holding the lantern high.

“Yeah - heh -” Arthur coughs, stepping to where you’re still crumbled on the ground wheezing, “We’ll catch up.”

He pulls you up, and you’re still unable to find your feet, allowing him to nearly drag you further away from the burning house in a blur.

Before you know it, he’s somehow gotten you astride his horse, you grasp blindly at the saddle pommel as you continue to breathe heavily, the wet track of tears on your cheeks stinging in the freezing wind. Arthur swings himself up onto the horse behind you, drawing you up against him with an arm around your stomach. 

You close your eyes tightly, shivering, trying to calm your breathing, but in the blazing light of the fire claiming the building behind you, it’s near impossible for you to choke back a sob.

Instantly, Arthur’s other arm winds around your shoulders, as he curls himself around you. 

“You’re alright, you’re alrigh’…” he drawls in your ear, his breath hot on the side of your face.

Your hand, shaking, moves slowly from the pommel to grasp his forearm above your chest, warm even through the layers of fabric of coats and sleeves and gloves. You feel yourself recline into him, the fur trimming at his collar soft against your cheek.

“I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you, Ruth.”

He’s going to keep you safe.

The crashing of the roof of the burning ranch house jolts you, the horse stamps beneath the two of you, as Arthur’s hand snaps down from your shoulders to grab the reins. “Whoa there, c’mon now.”

His arm around your waist remains, his hand splaying across your stomach, holding you tightly against him. He circles the horse, glancing back at the fire. The house’s frame begins to collapse into itself. 

“Let’s get goin’, gotta get back to Colter,” Arthur mutters and clicks his tongue as he pulls on the reins, turning the horse back toward the path away from the ranch. He kicks his spurs gently into the horse’s side, and the animal moves forward through the snow, following the path already worn by Dutch and Micah’s horses.

Your gloved hands clench the pommel of the saddle, but slowly, one of them shakily moves up, up, up to cover his across your waist. Your fingers find his, feathered out against your coat, and you interlace them, squeezing his hand gently. He curls his fingers slightly in return, his leather gloves sticking against yours.

He leans over you again as the horse trudges on, the motion of its gait swaying you into each other. Arthur’s cheek presses into your temple as you feel his grip tighten at your waist.

“Y’alright?”

You feel it, rather than hear the question, the low rumble of his voice against your skin. You nod, a soft sound coming from your throat. It’s not the first time you’ve ridden away from a fiery death. A rush of familiarity comes over you, a dread settling in your chest like a shot to your heart.

“Yeah,” you cough slightly, your voice hoarse. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

He’s going to keep you safe.

Arthur sits up straight again; but keeps that hand on your waist, keeps your fingers interlaced, as you trudge through the cold, blustery night away from the burning ranch, away from the blazing fire.

He’s going to keep you safe.

-

You sleep fitfully that night on the cold floor of the cabin, exhausted. The widow Adler sleeps as well - likely even more exhausted from her ordeal. The morning sun has risen in a cloudless sky before you awaken, the men had already made their coffee and making moves for the day. 

John sits up against the wall, bandages wound tightly across his head, covering one eye, which mercifully wasn’t torn out by the wolves.

The widow stares into the fire, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders.

Your gaze lingers on her - the poor woman, Sadie, she’s just as pitiful as you were - possibly more so, dark splotches of bruises on her skin that she tries to hide. Lord only knows what those men did to her.

Dutch decides to saddle the horses and head south, back to Owanjila. Two extra people mean that all three of the horses would have to ride double - Micah rolls his eyes as you and Dutch help John to stand from where he lay. Arthur resaddles the Walker under the awning of the building, the door open as the group gathers bedrolls together and prepares to leave this blasted down.

Baylock whinnies next to the Walker.

“Y’gonna take this one too?” Micah sneers, nodding inside over to where you stand next to Sadie, wrapping another blanket around her shoulders as they continue to ready the horses.

“The hell you talkin’ about?”

“I see the way you look at that little widow Ruth. The way she runs to you at the hint of trouble. Maybe that’s your type, I don’t judge. Sad little needy widows.” He shrugs, “But maybe you should leave some for the rest of us.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, glaring.

“Oh, cowpoke. I strike a nerve? So you ain't makin’ her squeal at night? If you ain’t, I would be more than happy to.”

“You best walk away, Micah. Before I make you.” Arthur growls, clenching his fist, the leather of his gloves whining as it stretches.

Micah throws a hand up in defense, snickering, “You ain’t different than any of us - rotten to the core. And all you want with her is her sweet little cunt.”

Arthur scowls, but Micah flicks his cigarette into the snow, walking past with a dismissive chuckle. He continues out from under the awning of the old house to where the horses are stabled.

He looks back and sees you watching, a concerned, frightful look in your eye, even as you lean next to the widow Adler, rubbing her back as she openly sobs into her hands.

Setting his jaw, Arthur glares daggers at Micah’s back as he finishes saddling up Baylock.

[spiderscribe]

soundrod, roleswap, enemies to lovers, political alliance, happy ending

When the Quintessons invade Cybertron, famed killer Decepticon Hot Rod and compassionate Autobot Soundwave form a shaky, temporary truce so they can free everyone from the Loop. It’s up to them and their ragtag band of clowns enemies to get past the multiple murder attempts on each other and save the planet.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

2023 Favorites

I'm kinda glad I was keeping track of what I watched, in retrospect, because looking back over my posts this year, I realized I forgot about a lot of stuff. XD After looking over the recaps and excluding rewatches, here's my top ten New Stuff I Watched for 2023:

10. Cabinet Of Curiosities

Bizarre nightmares unfold in eight tales of terror in a visually stunning, spine-tingling horror collection curated by Guillermo del Toro.

If GDT is your guy, give this a watch. Creature features, cursed objects, aliens, you name it. 8/8 tentacled eldritch abominations.

9. Wolf Creek

Three backpackers stranded in the Australian outback are plunged inside a hellish nightmare of insufferable torture by a sadistic psychopathic local.

Holy shit, this was intense. And as I said initially, so mean. If you're into Texas Chainsaw Massacre, try this. I'm into franchise bingo, so I'm going to look into the sequels and TV series. 3/3 heads on a stick.

8. Requiem For A Dream

The drug-induced utopias of four Coney Island people are shattered when their addictions run deep.

I get the feeling this is one of those that hurts so much more on rewatching, so there's that to look forward to. I've also rarely seen movies that do so much harmonizing between the music and the visuals, and it was so satisfying. 4/4 refrigerator jump scares.

7. Evil Dead Rise

A twisted tale of two estranged sisters whose reunion is cut short by the rise of flesh-possessing demons, thrusting them into a primal battle for survival as they face the most nightmarish version of family imaginable.

This was probably the most fun I had with a horror movie all year, TBH. Horror exploring family dynamics will always be a fave, and this brought plenty of fresh stuff to the franchise while also holding onto the core traits. 5/5 Staffenies.

6. Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

A charming thief and a band of unlikely adventurers embark on an epic quest to retrieve a lost relic, but things go dangerously awry when they run afoul of the wrong people.

This was the most fun I had watching a movie all year, period. If you know nothing about DND, it's a good fantasy movie. If you're a DND nerd, the game mechanics are baked into it. If you're a fan of found families, guess what! 6/6 stealth checks.

5. Cowboy Bebop

A ragtag crew of bounty hunters chases down the galaxy's most dangerous criminals. They'll save the world--for the right price.

I got exactly what I wanted out of this, so haters be damned. The anime is a masterpiece and a classic, but if you're not in the mood for the existentialism and other heavier themes, here ya go. 3/3 shower-bath-showers.

4. The Black Phone

After being abducted by a child killer and locked in a soundproof basement, a 13-year-old boy starts receiving calls on a disconnected phone from the killer's previous victims.

Near perfect, as far as I'm concerned. The older I get, the more kids-in-danger as a concept fucks with me, making this the most stressful movie I watched this year (though It Chapter One gave it a run for its money, and I still think they would make a great double feature). 5/5 black balloons.

3. Evil Dead (2013)

Five friends head to a remote cabin, where the discovery of a Book of the Dead leads them to unwittingly summon up demons living in the nearby woods.

It's gnarly. It's badass. I almost puked. I had THE BEST time. The story works as an effective allegory, the effects are gruesomely awesome, and the finale is metal af. Plain and simple. 70,000/70,000 gallons of fake blood.

2. The Crow

A man brutally murdered comes back to life as an undead avenger of his and his fiancée's murder.

Beautiful, sad, aesthetic for days, hella good soundtrack. *chef kiss* I still haven't seen The Batman, but they seem visually similar, so if you like that, you'll probably like this. For more in-depth thoughts, read my post. 1/1 epic rooftop guitar solos.

1. The Fall Of The House Of Usher

To secure their fortune (and future) two ruthless siblings build a family dynasty that begins to crumble when their heirs mysteriously die, one by one.

Not just a new favorite Mike Flanagan. A new favorite in general, and my number one for the year. I just screamed about this one last month, and I don't have anything more to add. I've seen Succession comparisons, and while I have no idea how accurate that is, there's my "if you like that, here's this." Holy crap. 7/7 deadly sins personified.

Happy New Year! 🥂

[innocent-cat]

More x Percy requests? You got it. Give us reader being protective of Percy. Maybe someone is gonna try and ransom him to Cassandra but reader goes freaking feral, tearing through people to protect him/save him.

You have no clue how much i love you/p

Percy x Protective!Reader

Warnings - Kidnapping, murder, ransom, graphic, cussing duh, beating, starvation.

"Unplanned plans are always better plans.", Percival De rolo x Reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

Vox Machina was called by Cassandra to Whitestone on some kind of fucking emergency. You couldn't figure out what could be more important than finding your missing member, though. He just fucking packed it up and left in the night? Seriously? Dramatic. Wont be saving him ANY time soon.

You were in disbelief that the rest of your ragtag team decided that searching for him was futile, and that he was 'probably on his own self fulfilling adventure to find himself..' Stupid Everlight dwarfs. Bite sized. I should have punted her.

Whatever. You were on your way to Whitestone now, walking through Keyleth's tree portal she thought she totally couldn't use, but spoiler alert, she totally fucking can.

You avoided conversation and eye contact with the rest of Vox Machina, not wanting to have to deal with any unnecessary arguments through them trying to tell me how I should just 'Let Percy pick his own path'

Yeah right. That asshole should have told me he was leaving, and he WOULD have. prick. lame.

You kicked a rock as you strode through Whitestone, approaching the now obviously repaired castle. You think about how Percy would be proud of his sister if he had stuck with us. pf. asshole.

Now losing focus in your thoughts, you miss your rock, and keep walking. Poor guy. He's lonely now and stuff. Almost like how Percy was kicking the rock that was Vox Machina and then just LEFT in the MIDDLE of the NIGHT, telling NOBODY? asshole.

Taking a seat at the map board at the top of the castle, you lean back in your chair, legs crossed, listening to Cassandra to figure out what kind of stupid mission Pike or Scanlan would drag you on next because they need something out of it, or its finallyyy morally correct. News flash, if you're a religious Everlight follower, maybe think twice before joining a band of rag tags with two raging pick pocketing twins?

oof. okay. that was harsh. Sorry Pike. Still love you. Just mad. XX.

You let out a deep breath, tuning in on Cassandra again, picking at your nails, filing them.

"Percy is being held for ransom for five million gold or he's hung."

Your eyes snap up towards her, in both shock, fear, and rage. Who the fuck would do that to him and more importantly why?

"Do you know by who? Or where?" You shoot out towards her without delay in your thoughts or deciding what words to pick for phrasing.

You lean forward, posture stiffening, waiting for her answer.

Her finger pointed, and darted quickly onto the target of interest. Cliffkeep. Neverfields. Why didn't I just guess they were in the below freezing ice cube area in the mountains hard to climb?

You sigh, knowing Vox Machina is gonna argue for a solid minute before someone says 'Wow. guys. we need to.'

You look around the room. Nobody is arguing, but nobody is saying we need to go. The eyes were on you. You raise an eyebrow to Vex, half expecting an explanation and half expecting an unnecessary retort.

She clears her throat.

"We'll get him back. No Ransom paid."

Cassandra looks at you, face full of gratefulness and appreciation for pushing Vox Machina, to rescue her older brother.

"Right. Chop chop, everyone up, we should have been on our way to Neverfield since 5 minutes ago." Vex ushers to Vox Machina, pushing them to pack their things up, and get ready to tread the mountain.

What would you do without little ol' Vexxy?

probably die.

Not like your life was priority right now. You needed to get Percy and make sure he's safe. You didn't even want to think about it, but every step you took, you felt woozy, and dizzy. You felt like you were gonna hurl, and cry your eyes out just thinking of Percy being dead.

(skipping part of the travel cus im not writing alat, they're at Lyregorn)

You hugged your sides as they world swayed, trying to breath deeply through stuttered breathing. You brushed your hands rapidly against your arms. It was cold. Real cold. What about Percy? Everlight forbid you ever freeze to death before you manage to reach him and say sorry for ANYTHING you can. Anything.

You reach for your staff in your belt pocket. It proved handy for healing, and defending yourself. The staff woven in old and wise hazelnut wood, carved at the tip like a moon, was covered in moss. It didn't leave when you healed, or defended yourself, so you figured it was best to leave the moss alone.

However, regardless of your weapon of choice, you decided your pocket knife and a small gift from Percy would do the trick when invading the group of bandits stealthily, praying that none of Vox Machina are too loud for this plan to work.

The gift from Percy? A pistol. He said it's loud, so you opted it out as best for emergencies. You'd have to find him one way or another.

You fidgeted with the pistol, loading it and unloading it, pretending to shoot it at walls, then finally tucked it away when you realized Vox Machina was stopped at a tall, peeled, wooden fence.

"Well shit, now what?" Pike groaned, obviously tired from the venture to take back the demonic gunslinger.

"Jump the wall, obviously." Vex tutted, walking towards the wall, likely waiting for a boost.

"Guys. We literally have magic. 'scanlan's handdd!'" Scanlan's giant, purple hand appears attempting to get Vex to step on it.

"No you moron, your singing will get us caught faster that a rat to a trap of cheese."

"Not to be mean, but she's right Scanlan. You kinda sound like a dying bird in peril when you're trying to be quiet." You swiftly retorted, backing up Vex's point of being noticed.

"What if we go under?" Keyleth suggested, making a show of her rooted vines.

"Well, unless we have someone who memorizes this bandit camp entirely, I don't think that'd be a good idea." You pat Keyleth's back, letting empathy shine through.

"You know what? fuck it. boost me up. no plan." You pointed to Vex, and she shrugged, getting ready to boost you.

"Vex what the hell? they're gonna get themself AND Percy killed!"

clambering onto her hand and then her shoulders, you hoist yourself over the wall, dropping down and landing on your knees, hoping it'd break the fall. It still hurt. Like. A lot. Good think you're a cleric then.

Healing yourself, you cant help but be nosy on the argument Vex and Pike are having about you over the wall.

"Why wouldn't you wait for a plan Vex??" Pike frustratedly berated Vex about her choices.

"Im not too worried. Their best plan always lands on no plan."

Letting out a laugh, you finish healing your lil' knees so they don't give out when you run.

You pull out your pocket knife, sheathing it, crouched. You enter the building you thankfully landed next to that covered you so no one really saw you jump it.

Okay. Maybe your best plan really is no plan. But thats okay.

Jesus christ you were in a bandit camp, ready to kill anyone you needed to, just to get to Percy? and then what? Die?

creak.

With the creak in the wood, you hid behind a counter. It was only one man. alright then. As long as he doesn't yell, you'd think about letting him live. Not really though. Fuck that guy.

Crouching towards him, you spring on him. Your pocket knife against his neck, and your other hand keeping his head angled up.

"Not a fucking word unless I tell you to speak."

You applied pressure to his neck with the blade slowly sliding, drawing blood.

"Where is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the.. third..?" You questioned. Three people were named that? weird.

"We don't HAVE a Percival here. We don't even kidnap man."

you paused for a moment, buying his lie, then repositioning.

"Then tell me. Who is the man with the five million gold ransom on his head. You tell me, and I might let you live with no tongue."

"We- we got him in the bakery. t-top. floor. left of the flour."

You quickly slit his neck open, the cut deep, long, and accurate.

"What a fuckin' sell out."

Crouching, you take the scarf off his face, just small enough to cover your mouth. They likely used poison mist, so, if you were gonna at least try to protect yourself, why not think just a little?

You stand up, turning to your right to look at the bar pin board. A map? of the camp? Maybe just a little weird. But were you ready to die stupid for that man? Any day of the week.

You crouch again, slowly moving from house to house. The camp got quieter with each house ran through, but, one of the residents said something the rest of them didn't.

"No- Please! I have a wife! I swear- he's- he's in the attic of the bounty tavern!"

"What? Say that again."

"Attic of the bounty tavern- I swear!"

Two places to look. A game of elimination? You prefer starting with the bakery, as, you are one house away anyway.

"Tell me why all your friends say the bakery and not the tavern."

"Beca-because they're all liars man! thats what we're told to say! not the tavern! He's really in there! Theres even an easier way in that through the front door!"

You grip his hair and tug it backwards, the knife ride riding against his neck as he struggles against it.

"Speak."

"Through the bakeries roof, you can jump from roof to roof in order to get there. I swear to you. Please. let me see my family."

You tugged his hair, and slid the knife against his neck.

"Stay still and this wont be nearly as bad as I was to the rest of your friends."

You open his jaw, grip his tongue, and cut it out. You look at the pale, slimy item. You tuck it into your leather pouch on your waist. Percy's reaction to it would be priceless.

"You're welcome." You pat his back, and move to the bakery. If Percy wasn't there, there would be the benefit of getting to him there. really makes you wonder how the rest of the group are doing. Probably arguing.

//

"D'you think they're dead yet?" Vex concerns, turning to the wall.

"I'd give them about 10 more minutes until they open those gates holding Percy like a fucking princess in their arms before we go in after them." Vax retorts, more than confident you're getting ready to do something loud and stupid.

//

"Percy? Are you there? Hello? are you in a flour bag?" You giggle to yourself about the suggestion, but pause. Creepy.

After cutting the bags opening and confirming no Percy, you go for one lass call. "Percy? You sure you don't wanna come out? It's just me, your favorite cleric ever.."

Oohmp!

You're tackled onto the floor by tongue guy. Maybe you shouldn't have let him go back to his kids.

Struggling against his force, you grab your knife out, and stab him in the skull. He collapses on top of you.

"Oh. Okay gross ew get off of me."

You push the now deceased man off of your body, yanking back out your knife. Gross. You slit his throat nice n' deep just in case he wants to come back for round three, which you most definitely did NOT want. people were strangely strong when they weren't surprised.

Healing yourself with your Hazel staff, you bind bandages onto a different wound, attempting not to use all of your magic in one go.

You really hoped the tongue guy was telling the truth. You cant just come back empty handed to Vox Machina. Especially not Vex after she was scolded by Pike. If I wrong her, she'll never let me be dumb again, which is going surprisingly well. like. super well. not finding Percy well, but, not dying well.

Yeesh. If I were that guy-you jump from the bakery roof to the next roof, traveling to the bounty tavern-You so would have called for backup. Okay maybe he couldn't talk, but he could still scream, you know? I wonder how the kids are.

//

"Keyleth do NOT put that ice lizard ANYWHERE near me or I swear to Everlight you will be bound to the other side permanently."

"He doesn't bite Pike! just one head scratch for him. please. He looks so sad right now because of you neglecting him" Keyleth frowned at Pike, begging for her to pet her lizard friend.

"Keyleth please put the lizard down and let 'Doctor Icethron' get back to work." Vex sighed out.

"5 more minutes till we go in Vex. they'll be more than fine."

//

Making the last jump to the tavern was less than easy. You may or may not have fell and totally ate the floor with all your jaw put into it. You'd have to look into that later. Percy is most definitely gonna need healing. Using your knife, you dug a hole into the Hay roof of the tavern. Thats. Surprisingly inconvenient for a camp of bandits? No fire hazard? Alright. Noted I guess.

Pulling the hay out of the way, you poke an eye through, checking to see if anyone was surrounding Percy. One person. A real twig of a guy. God that concerned you. Was Percy really in such a harsh condition he hadn't even decided to fight against him?

Oh. your poor baby.

You slip through the hay quietly and get the guy in a good position for your knife hold.

"Not a word. You speak if I ask you to, and if you do, you'll lose your tongue."

"Yeah right. You wouldn't do a thing to a fly would you, huh? Baby cleric trying to save their precious love?"

You scoffed, and tugged the tongue out of your pouch, tossing it to the floor in front of you. You'll tell Percy all about it later.

The Guy froze. Stiff as a board.

"Now. What did you do to him?"

"I didn-"

"You collectively. You are in the group of bandits. You are going to be held responsible for everyone's acts. Now, I'll ask again, and you'll answer me honestly this time. What. did. you. do?"

The man shudders under your grasp.

"Starved him. Beat him. threatened him."

"And why did you do such a thing? To him? What did he do?"

"We just wanted money. Thats all. Nothing more than that."

"So.. it was for shits and giggles?"

You tugged the man by his hair, knife applied to his throat.

"Speak."

"Yes."

You slit his throat slowly, deeper, and took a few stabs at him before watching him take his final breath.

You turn and fall to your knees next to Percy. You cut his hands and feet free. You pull him into your lap, stroking his hair, holding him. Picking him him bridal style, You glance down. You cant tell if he lost weight or if he's always just weighed two grapes total. You hoped for the latter. Poking your head from the attic, you notice there was no one. So you set Percy down, and heal him with almost all your remaining magic.

"You'll be feeling fine soon, alright? We're going back to Vox Machina. Our stupid band of ragtags? Pike, Scanlan, Keyleth, Vex and Vax? And Cassandra too. She's real worried about you. Sent us all here for you. Called us for an emergency. She cares for you dearly, and you can tell she feared for you. Let's visit her, yeah?"

Percy coughs, but shows a weak smile before letting it falter. Picking him up again, you jump down from the attic. You march through the front doors of the tavern, throwing a bit of fire with your Hazelnut staff onto the flammable hay roof.

Kicking the door open, you're greeted with Vox Machina ready for battle.

"Oh. Uh. Did I do something?"

"Oh my Everlight they really did carry him like a princess"

(A/N - eat up my percy lovers)

(P.S leopard, thank you for letting me write him RAH)

[windsfavored]

@abyssmalice &&. said... Tonia has only been in training to be a Harbinger for like, a week - maybe two weeks - and she's learned a lot of things! Too many things, perhaps. And it's all very overwhelming, but it seems like Harbingers just have to deal with it, so she will learn to do that too. Or try to. Nonetheless, the nine year old girl is certain of one thing: some things just have to be inquired about with other people. So this is why she's standing in front of Scaramouche, trying not to fidget with her fingers (she's fidgeting with her fingers), and hesitantly looks up at him to ask - "Um... What does 'fuck' mean?" She blinks, innocently clueless.

the  fatui  can  be  ruthlessly  pragmatic  when  they  want  to  be  —  it's  one  of  their  most  palatable  qualities.  (  at  least  to  kunikuzushi,  who  tends  to  be  much  the  same.  )  it's  not  surprising  at  all  to  see  CHILDREN  among  their  ranks,  though  a  child  occupying  a  position  of  actual  SIGNIFICANCE  is  considerably  more  unusual.  the  balladeer  isn't  sure  what  they're  thinking,  trying  to  spin  this  brat  into  a  harbinger.  frankly,  it  isn't  any  of  his  business  —  if  she's  strong,  then  she'll  be  a  worthwhile  asset  to  have.  if  she  isn't,  then  she'll  be  out  of  their  hair  soon  enough.  that's  simply  the  way  this  world  works,  prison  built  upon  a  foundation  of  unparalleled  cruelty  that  it  is.  and  if  there's  a  part  of  him  that  feels  just  a  twinge  of  remorse,  as  if  recalling  another  child  thrown  into  equally  unfair  circumstances  long  ago,  kunikuzushi  is  quick  to  smother  those  wretched  emotions  just  as  soon  as  they  ARISE.  that  kind  of  weak  sentimentality  isn't  to  anyone's  benefit.

he's  not  expecting  the  kid  to  go  out  of  her  way  to  bother  him,  but  it  seems  fate  has  decided  to  TORMENT  him  once  again.  the  balladeer  arches  a  brow,  opening  his  mouth  to  make  a  sharp-tongued  quip  about  being  saddled  with  BABYSITTING  duty  today  —  yet  tonia  beats  him  to  the  punch  with  an  inquiry  of  her  own.  and  what  a  question  it  is.

❝  ... ❞  this  is  precisely  why  leaving  a  child  around  such  a  ragtag  band  of  murders,  heretics  and  monsters  is  an  objectively  terrible  idea.  kunikuzushi  surmises  it's  only  a  matter  of  time  before  she  develops  a  vocabulary  colorful  enough  to  make  even  the  most  foul-mouthed  sailor  WITHER  before  her  linguistic  might.  a  hand  raises,  pinching  the  bridge  of  his  nose;  a  sigh  then  hisses  through  the  sixth's  teeth  as  he  deliberates  how  he  wishes  to  approach  this.  ❝  it's  a  word  idiots  place  too  much  importance  on. ❞   is  the  explanation  he  eventually  comes  up  with.  kunikuzushi  knows  how  this  works  —  trying  to  discourage  her  will  only  have  the  OPPOSITE  effect.  if  they  have  to  have  this  conversation,  she  may  as  well  learn  something  useful  from  it.  ❝  they  act  like  saying  it  is  a  crime  or  a  social  faux  pas ...  but  it's  really  only  a  word  —  just  the  same  as  any  other.  if  you  want  to  ACTUALLY  hurt  someone  without  laying  a  finger  on  them,  you're  better  off  observing  them ...  and  using  that  information  to  draw  attention  to  their  flaws  and  weaknesses. ❞

does  that  make  sense?  perhaps  an  example  would  help  illustrate  his  point.  ❝  i  could  say  'fuck  dottore'  if  i  wanted  to  insult  him ... ❞   a  perfectly  acceptable  target  for  the  sake  of  this  demonstration;  kunikuzushi  is  sure  he  can  come  up  with  a  reason  to  be  irritated  with  the  doctor  if  he  really  feels  like  it.  ❝  ...  but  saying  he  wears  his  mask  like  that  because  he's  TOO  UGLY  to  be  seen  in  public  without  it  is  considerably  more  effective ...  does  that  make  sense? ❞

[megamattzx]

Preview to an AU story: The Scoundrel and his Princess

This is a project I probably should continue. This was a request from @yingying-57.

But to make up for it, I would like to share what I have so far.

In the far reaches of the Galaxy, empires struggle to seize control of the lawless Galaxy as pirates syndicates and various other outlaws battle their way through the hardships of the Galaxy. Many factions struggle for control as many also take advantage of the opportunities now provided to them. One of them was a very small crew. A band of smugglers was seen escaping a vast Empire after a heist. They're really trudging the metaphorical waters this time. Tons of heavy energy fire were being thrown at them as the ragtag pirate crew was seen attempting to make their escape. The crew began to realize just whose territory they were in. The Princess of Fire Mountain's territory. She was extremely ruthless as a space pirate. Known for taking over several vessels at a time and destroying entire fleets on multiple fronts. She was feared. And rightfully so. The last thing that a ragtag band of smugglers wanted was to cross paths with the Fire Princess. The Pilot and Captain, Son Goku could be seen losing his patience a bit. His tail fluffing a bit he felt an energy surge through anger.

"Great!" He said in a very aggravated tone. "The hyperdrive is broken!" Quickly inspecting the hyperdrive to see what he could repair. He knew that he needed to be quick to repair the hydro drive before the ship tracks any unwanted attention. Especially since they were in the territory of one of the most notorious pirates in this sector. "We're lucky we got the stuff needed to fix this! At least enough to where we could head to another system for proper repairs. But this could take me potentially hours to fix the hyperdrive."

It was at that moment Yamcha and Krillin were seen walking out of the cockpit as Vegeta and Piccolo returned from the turrets. Tenshinhan and Chaotzu the state of navigation as they overheard everything that was going on. Luckily Goku wasn't the only one maintaining the ship at times. But sometimes when it came to the hyperdrive itself, he felt that he was the only one really taking it seriously. "We're in the Pirate Princess' territory and she might find us at any moment," the younger Saiyan continued. His tail wagging around every now and then frantically as he quickly got his repair kit. "And she doesn't take too kindly to intruders in her turf."

"I hear she brutally murders all the people aboard the ships she attacks," Yamcha made a very nervous remark as he thought about exactly whose territory they were in. "These are just rumors of course but giving her reputation with the wanted posters, it all adds up."

"I heard that she takes them prisoner and makes them her slaves on her ship," Krillin mentioned as well as he then slowly nervously started to look at the void of space. "She'll divide them all up amongst her crew and if she takes a liking to any of them, she'll keep those people for herself."

"Nonsense," Vegeta countered as he then slowly began to slowly begin to think about it more. "Most of their reputation is based on rumors. All we know is that some of the people who encountered her never were seen again."

"Whether the rumors are true or not, I have no intention of crossing paths with her," Goku quickly jumped into the conversation as he tried to grab a spare hyperdrive, as he needed to replace it rather than repair it. "I have no intention of finding out what she'll do to us if she finds us. Now help me get this hyperdrive fixed, and if I can't repair it I need help taking it out and installing the spare one."

"I'll try to send a distress signal out to one of our allies nearby," Vegeta said. A hint of concern in his voice as he went to the navigation board. Clearly he was trying to see if there were any allies nearby in case they had to get out before the repairs were done. Once Goku gave a nod of acknowledgment, Vegeta started trying to find as many options as they possibly could. How many systems nearby have allies in them? He wasn't too sure so he had to see for himself.

Piccolo quickly started to run towards the cockpit to try to check if any other systems were damaged. The hyperdrive was one thing, but if the engines or even life support was damaged, it could be catastrophic potentially. Fortunately, the life support was fine. As was communications. However, the sensors were damaged. Not good. Especially considering whose territory they were in. The pirate princess could have easily been already on their tail without them even knowing.

“The sensors are down,” the Namekian explained as his antennas pointed down as he tried to find alternatives. Unfortunately, the backup sensors were also damaged. “Shit!” he muttered under his breath. “All the backup sensors are too!”

It was at that point, Goku was seen kicking the wall closest to him in a panicked state. “Fuck!” he shouted as he tried to think of a plan. They had the tools and materials they needed to do the job. But that wasn't the issue. They would have to suit up and go into space to fix the sensors. And that will take quite a bit of time. Time that they didn't have. Especially with a broken hyperdrive. “First the hyperdrive, now this bullshit!?” Goku was trying to calm down to prevent himself from hyperventilating from panic. The last thing he needed was to break down during a crisis.

“Krillin, Tien” Yamcha called out as he then started to walk towards the ship's armory. “You two come with me and gear up to go to space! The sensors aren't going to fix themselves!”

Krillin nodded as he quickly got up. “Right!” he answered, hurrying to join his friend as quickly as possible.

“Understood,” the Triclops said as he also followed.

“What else on the ship is damaged Piccolo?” Goku hesitantly asked, somewhat dreading the upcoming answer. The anxiety was truly getting to him and he was internally streaming in panic. Trying to stay calm and play it cool wasn’t going to cut it. What Piccolo said next made it even worse.

“The navigation system,” the Namekian said hesitantly. And he could just feel the frustration from his friend. And the anxiety too. A damaged hyperdrive, sensors and navigation system, which could potentially take hours to fix, was not good considering the situation they were in. And they all knew it. What's worse is that they had other things to worry about as well. Piccolo felt horrible that Goku was trying to do all the work which is why part of him was glad that Yamcha Krillin and Tien were going to fix the sensors.

“Damn it!” Goku cursed under his breath. Staying calm was no longer an option for the Saiyan. There are too many parts of the ship that were broken and very little time to fix them all. The Pirate Princess of Fire Mountain, the most feared outlaw in the galaxy, ruled these parts. And it was only a matter of time before she found them. And he didn't want to know what she would do if she found them. And he sure as hell didn't want to find out.

Vegeta was stressing out as well, as his tail also puffed up despite being tied around his waist. The navigation thing would have to be fixed from both the in and outside of the ship. First with the antenna. But if the crew can get someone fixing that while Vegeta is looking at the nav table, it would be easier. He looked around and noticed that there was no sign of Yajirobe. Probably napping no doubt. Well, he needs a reason to get that sad excuse of a crew member for his lazy butt.

“Get off your lazy ass and help us get out of this mess, Yajirobe!” Vegeta called out. Buzzing the chubbier human to quickly jump as a grumble and annoyance.

“Hold on!” the human replied as he slowly began to get up. “Don't get your shorts in a knot Vegeta I just need to get my spacesuit on.”

“I don't see you trying to put the effort in putting it on,” Vegeta snapped back, forcing the earthling to concede defeat as he began hurrying to grab a spacesuit. After which Vegeta then began to look for anything inside the ship that needed repairs. The last thing they needed was for they're more important stuff to be destroyed.

Unfortunately for our daring scoundrels, a vast vessel was seen approaching them and they all slowly noticed it in different ways. The boys out in space were seen directly looking at the vessel, as they felt a sense of dread while recognizing the ship approaching them. Vegeta looks at the nav table seeing a statistic but reading. But he didn't recall them sending a distress signal, which caused him to feel a sense of dread.

Goku also couldn't help but feel that something deep down was wrong. His tail all fluffed up, his heart raced, and he felt goosebumps and shivers down his spine and crawling all over his skin. It was almost as if they all knew that they were discovered. And before they could do anything, they felt something grab onto their ship. A Tractor beam from the feel of it. A device used to pull a ship into a dock by force. As this happened there was an incoming com link signal, coming from the vessel now pulling them in. Realizing they had no choice but to answer the call, Vegeta then pressed the button and turned on the communication.

They were in a good enough range at this point to hear the other side very clearly. But when the person on the other end began to speak, everyone slowly began to feel a sense of dread. They all knew exactly who was speaking. “This is the captain of the dreadnought Fire Mountain, speaking,” a female voice was heard from the com link. “We have detected your ship entering my territory, and hereby claim it and its crew as ours. You will be brought aboard the ship, and if you try to resist, the punishments will be extremely severe.”

Goku and company were all terrified at this point. With those inside their ship in a panic state as they try to figure out what to do, and the ones outside being apprehended by members of the larger vessel’s crew that were in space gear, it became more and more apparent that they had no choice but to comply, especially once the ship was fully pulled into the vessel's hangar Bay. And the doors began to open, revealing various men and women pointing their guns at what was left of the crew urging them to come outside. As the crew was being rallied up, they began to realize that they were now at the mercy of the Princess of Fire Mountain. What she had planned for them was unknown to them. But that was the terrifying part of it.

Goku and his companions took a moment to observe the crew of this vast vessel and noticed that a large portion of them were female, roughly 56% from the looks of it. But it didn't seem that there was going to be an excuse for them to be alive. They needed to find some way to get out of here before they found out what their fates were. It was already bad enough that they got captured by the princess of Fire Mountain. It was even worse than now that they were under the mercy of her crew.

And before they even had time to react, a woman with Raven hair was seen walking towards the group. She wore fancy clothing however her demeanor was fierce and appropriate for the fearsome reputation of whom she presented herself. She was imposing. And unfortunately, they were in her territory. She stopped after reaching where the others were and everyone looked at her with a sign of respect. Three women, one with light blue hair, another with dark blue hair, and one with blonde hair were seen walking towards her. Most likely her highest in command as well as her most trusted.

“These are the scoundrels that entered our territory, ma'am,” the darker-haired bluenette said. Her voice was calm and collected.

“Thank you Launch,” the pirate princess told her as she turned to the rest of her crew. “Quite the find we made tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” she told her crew with a calm demeanor but not without taking a glimpse at Goku. She couldn't believe her eyes. The infamous scoundrel, Son Goku, and his crew, the infamous Dragon gang, are on her ship.

Their bounty was nearly as high as hers, though fortunately for them she had no intention of giving them off to any authorities where they were wanted by. However, she was going to make them fully aware that she knew damn well who they were. “The infamous Dragon Gang of scoundrels, in my ship.” The men in question quickly began to shutter at the mere fact that she knew exactly who they were. Much to her satisfaction. “Your reputation precedes you boys, I should have known you would have had the guts to come here and escape with that special cargo currently in your possession. Cargo that you managed to steal from Frieza and the Red Ribbon Empire. Quite an impressive feat to steal from two organizations at once. Too bad your employer didn't leave many details in the job description.”

“How did you know that?” Goku suddenly began to question much to his surprise and even concern. Why did he have to blurt that out? And to see her grin as she approached him, caused him to freeze from anxiety and fear and she gently placed her hand over his chin.

Chi-Chi only held him closer afterward and whispered into his ear. “Because I was the one who set up the job for you to accomplish this,” she said plainly in a soft tone. “I was the one who set up a job that only you would be crazy enough to accept and even pull off.”

It was at that point Goku's eyes began to widen in horror. At that point, you didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that she had deliberately lured them here. She didn't find them out of coincidence or share bad luck for the Dragon Gang’s part. She planned this. She was waiting for them. It was at that point that he was unable to hide the fear in his eyes and the others could see as they also showed the same fear. They were truly at her mercy all along. Why would she go through all this trouble to learn them into a trap like this? Was she mainly in it for the bounty on their heads? Possibly. Was she planning on selling them to slavery? Perhaps.

But before anyone could continue onward, Chi-Chi then spoke out loud. “We've got quite the catch tonight!” she called out to all of her crew in a triumphant tone. “Salvage the ship and everything inside and then dismantle it and find a better use for all the pieces, perhaps even for our ship. We're not letting this catch leave us anytime soon.~” This caused Goku and his companions to shake in terror, no longer being able to keep a calm facade as Chi-Chi then looked at them. “Take the ship's crew to the holding cells for now,” she said before looking at Goku, only to grin, which caused Goku to shiver and gulp, she could tell he knew she was looking at him. Afterwards, she then pointed directly at him. “And when I’m ready, bring that Saiyan over there to my chambers.~”

As soon as she said that, the Saiyan felt a sense of dread, hearing those words. He didn’t know what she had planned, but he felt he was officially at her mercy. If it wasn’t obvious enough, that was. But it was very clear that she planned something with him specifically in mind.