#so his chip is either damaged or removed

[wwheeljack]

I still do not understand when people use Crosshair's actions under the chip - those which we canonly know are done thanks to the inhibitor chip, such as killing Saw's rebels in Replacements - as actions he willingly took. No one does that to Tup after he murdered Tiplar thanks to his chip, or any of the other chip controlled clones, so why is that same leniency not given to Crosshair?

[mashiraostail]

Plleeassee 'you can sit on my lap' with Halsin PLEASEEE

ur wish is my command I did SFW bc it felt right but lemme no if u want different :3

It was always the same, which was sort of what annoyed you. It's not that your day to day fights had been particularly hard it was just the constant bumps and scrapes and bruises that weighed you down. Never enough damage to justify wasting healing magic, but just enough that you were uncomfortable in your day to day. You left some wounds to heal even once you're back at camp, preferring to let the others get fixed up before you. Today you could feel the itchy irritation of a cut healing over, right across the bridge of your nose. It was a constant bother, like a bug flying around your face, a tickle that would not subside no matter which way you scrunched your nose up.

"This city air isn't doing anything for me either." You feel Halsin's hand come down on your shoulder, heavy and warm. For a moment you were confused, you'd not complained at all since setting off for the day, then you realized your discomfort may be less subtle than you thought.

"Oh..." You wave, "who am I to complain?" You did enjoy Halsin, well perhaps more than enjoy.... given your late night trysts. Though he was still unfamiliar to you in some ways, and lacking a formal name for what the two of you shared often left you uncertain in your day to day with him.

"Please, I think this city would benefit from some complaining." He looks down at you, "I thought I was the only one."

"No..no.." You resist the urge to peel the scab over the bridge of your nose away, you were certain you'd start gushing blood all over, which given your current location made no sense at all. It had actually been a rather tame day so far, and it was already almost over.

"I think even the most dedicated Baldurians have it in them to complain about the smell from time to time." You give in, and start to chip away at the corner of the scab closest to your tear duct.

Halsin just laughs, "I see, well I suppose it's good to know I'm not alone..." He removes his hand from your shoulder and looks around a bit as you walk, though he stays close to you.

You can't help but hiss at the feeling of your skin peeling back, beyond the first wound, you supposed that was karma for picking it.

"Are you alright?" Halsin turns over his shoulder at you, "I heard you-" He looks down at your hand by your nose, "leave that alone." He bats your hand away, "you should have let me clean it up days ago, see now? You've made it worse."

"It's itchy." You rub the bridge of your nose for emphasis, "and I can't help it. I've always picked at my scabs, where do you think all these cool scars came from?"

"I can't say I doubt that. But still, this city is dirty, it's best to not bare an open wound to this kind of air." He procures a small cloth and dabs at the blood as it appears, "it's good you didn't peel open this whole thing, and it's a wonder you've not complained till now."

You can't help but flush at the attention, if anyone with you notices they spare you, "I'm alright, I've dealt with much worse."

"I'm sure you have, but there's no need with me around.... To tell you the truth," He dabs the small cloth with his tongue and wipes the dirt and grime away from the edges of the newly opened flesh, "I enjoy doting on you."

You look down at your boots to avoid looking at him, you can feel your ears burning.

"It's hard to see the damage out here, do you think you can hold out till we set up camp for the day?"

"Of course-" You swallow your embarrassment, "I'm okay like this, I'll live."

"Oh I hope so." Halsin is smiling at you, "who knows what I would do otherwise." He hands you the cloth, "keep this, incase it bleeds anymore."

"Thank you." You look up at him, "you've been a big help."

"Don't thank me, just.." He guides your hand holding the cloth up to your nose, and uses it to cover the wound, "keep it clean until we settle in for the night." You can only nod up at him.

True to your word you do keep your wound covered in the cloth for the rest of your journey that day. It was a long one, boring too. As much as the little battles left you irate, a boring day of gathering information and talking to every no name on the street was equally irksome.

When you get back to camp Halsin seems busy with Gale, who despite his best efforts is always the most banged up by the end of the day. You almost feel bad for him, until you see him bright and pristine every morning. So you sit by the fire, content on sharpening a stick into some sort of miniature spear, humming to yourself.

When Halsin finds you all of the dark bark has been scraped off the stick leaving it white and brittle looking.

"You hide in plain sight you know?" He offers you a hand and you take it, allowing him to hoist you up to your feet.

"It's one of my many talents." You toss the sharpened stick down, "how's Gale?"

"He's fine, I apologize, I should have come to you first."

"No," You laugh, "I'm sure he needed it more than me. You're here now."

"I am." He smiles at that, wider than you'd ever previously given yourself credit for, "come, let me see." He waves you closer and leans down toward you.

Once you've closed most of the gap you feel his eyes wander beyond the gash over your nose, down to your neck and collarbones, all to way to your wrists.

"Now that we're close like this...when was the last time you've been healed? Has Jaheria been taking up the job in my stead?" He seems almost offended at the thought.

"No-" You shake your head, "No, I've been mostly alright."

"Alright? You're practically covered in cuts and bruises- let's go someplace more private, you should have a once over." He guides you with a hand sprawled out between your shoulder blades, not leaving room for protest.

"You should have come to me sooner." He breaks the silence once you're away from camp, surrounded by trees and brush.

"You're always helping the others, I'm used to this, I'd rather they get what they need." You insist, gesturing vaguely to yourself.

"You can all have what you need." Halsin seems perplexed, "there's more than enough healing magic to go around, you don't have to worry about that."

"well it must be exhausting, constantly casting spells, you're always taking care of the others, what about you?"

"What about me?" Halsin tilts his head at you quizzically, "I'm alright too."

"Well who takes care of you?"

"When you live as long as I have," He starts tending to some of the smaller cuts on your arms, "you learn to take care of yourself. It comes with time."

"That's not fair." You frown, "everyone relies on you. It must be a heavy weight, especially with no one to lean on, or to rely on to care for you."

"You." Halsin sits on an old stump, "I have you. We care for each other....unless I'm mistaken."

"You're not." You allow him to turn you around, inspect you every which way for any major damage left untended.

"Good. Come here." He waves you into him but you stand, flushed and confused before him.

"Here." He gestures again, "you can sit in my lap."

Nervously you do, slotting yourself against him. It hadn't been many times but you'd sought his company before, and the feeling of his large hand cupped around you thigh was welcome, almost calming. It doesn't take very much magic at all to get you right again, and you're glad to accept it, at this point the constant discomfort was bordering on pain.

"You must be exhausted, they were small injuries but they were plenty, it must have worn on you." His hand spreads over the small of your back, "I meant what I said before." On his lap it's much easier for him to rest his head against your chest, you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck as he does.

"I enjoy caring for you, perhaps it's self serving, but please allow me the pleasure of it more often."

"I wasn't sure-" You flush at the sudden tenderness, it wasn't brand new, nor was it unwelcome, but it was still fresh, still took getting used to. "I didn't want to burden you."

"Be sure now." He picks his head up, "you're more than asset to hinder or help me me.... and certainly more than a friend." He spares a glance down to your hand, where it has wrapped around his bicep. "Don't be modest, when you ask for me, I'm happy to go to you. If I can bring you any comfort on the road ahead, then I'd be honored to."

"Thank you, Halsin." You rest your hand on the side of his neck and he hums at the feeling, glancing between your bodies then back to your face.

"You don't need to thank me," His hand slides along the divot of your spine, a soft touch made firm by the rough skin of his palms, "just come to me, whenever you need, even when you don't need to, but only want to. I do miss you after our nights together. I'd take comfort in knowing you feel the same."

"I do.." You nod, "I just hate to steal you away when the others-"

"Steal me away all you like," He laughs, "Gods, that sounds heavenly. I'm sure the others can manage a few hours." He kisses you for the first time that day. Which wasn't unusual, often he waited for more private moments to voice and show his affections, it was welcome and warm and you were glad to be on the receiving end of his affections.

"And knowing you feel the same is all the better." He wraps his arms around you in a bear hug perfectly fitting of the man giving it.

"I'm grateful to have spent this time enjoying you." He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to get as much of your scent as possible.

"Can we stay for a bit? Like this?" You pull back and pin away a stray strand of his hair, his chest huffs with a light airy chuckle as he nods.

"Of course, but you'll have to tear me away when you're done. I fear I won't want to go anywhere once I've settled down with you on me like this."

He resumes his bear hugging and despite the tightness of the hug, and the closeness of your bodies you don't feel cramped at all.

[decojellyfish]

hello, i like your writing and was wondering if you could write some more guard dog! (character of your choice) with a little kitten reader?

Helloooo! I am terribly sorry for how long this took! College has me very busy and worn out, leaving me little to no motivation to work on fics. I really hope this makes up for the wait, as well as the other fic requests I'm working on!

------

Kitty

Hybrid AU! TF141 Retired Guard Dog! Gaz x Kitten! GN! Reader Reader is addressed with either 'you' or 'kitty' !!No Romance for Obvious Reasons!!

SFW ~ Fluff Warnings: Kind of OOC Gaz at some points

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "fish in the pool - yeule" 0:09 ━●────────── 2:47 ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

───♡───────────── Beginning

It had been 6 years since Kyle’s spot among one of the highest-ranking K-9s  had been replaced by another dog after his sniffer began to deteriorate due to a mission gone awry. Chemical warfare had been at play, leaving damage to his lungs, nose, and eyes. He was now left partially blind and developed asthma. After it was decided he could no longer work for the military, he was honorably discharged.

‘Honorably discharged my arse’ Kyle would find himself thinking whenever it was pouring rain, and there was no roof over his head to keep him dry and no walls to keep him warm. He was placed in a shelter when he retired, but that was short-lived as more and more hybrids were placed into the shelter, thus ending up in Kyle being one of many hybrids that were removed from the building – and kicked out onto the streets.

His dark eyes grew tired and full of hatred and disgust by the day. With each person that passed by, he could taste how his mouth grew more sour and his expression one of permanent bitterness. He had a home, warm food, a warm bed, everything. And these privileged little snotty hybrids didn’t know how not to take that for granted. He hated it, he hated them.

It was one of those evenings where the rain was heavy, and thunder was roaring somewhere far away. He found himself lurking around a petrol station for any kind of change or food. He was, yet again, unsuccessful in getting anything more than £4. But he had saved enough to get a sandwich to eat. He rested out back behind the building, hunched over his food so it wouldn’t grow soggy.

That’s when he felt a pair of small hands start tugging at his sandwich, making him let out a firm, loud growl. It was dark, and his shit-sight could only let him see silhouettes in the daytime. But he could sense the figure was small, a child probably. One that clearly hadn’t been taught manners. His chipped ears would twitch as they plucked out the sound of little sniffles and an angry churn of a hungry stomach.

“Go find your mummy, child. I ain’t sharin’.” He grunted. He was met with a small whine and felt the little hands grab at his meal again. He barked at them, “Fuck off, you greedy thing!” When he pulled back, he could feel a chunk of his sandwich missing that he hadn’t eaten, followed by the soft sounds of chewing. With a reluctant sigh, he went back to eating.

He could still feel your presence, though you were quiet. Just to make sure, he reached out and gave you a little push, confirming that you were, in fact, still standing there, probably wanting more. “Why don’t you go back to your parents? I’ve got nothing of use for you.”

He was met with silence, making him push more, “Don’t need to be scared. I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was hungry. But, you shouldn’t take people’s food like that.”

There was more silence. But he felt your presence move and sit next to him, and he felt you nearly sit on his tail. “Go, go away. I’ve nothing left for you.” He sighed, now giving up. He was tired and soaking wet from the rain. He sensed no movement; you were a stubborn little thing.

With that, he got up and began his way back to where he could sleep for the night. He used a cane that his previous shelter had provided him with, though, he mostly used it in the dark when his blurred surroundings became a cacophony of blues, greys, and blacks. Scraping it against the ground before him as he walked, he was so focused on the sound and finding a good place to sleep that he didn’t notice your small form following closely behind.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The morning was bright, and the rain had since gone away, though the grass was still wet and had gathered morning dew. Kyle woke up with a small groan, a few of his bones cracking as he stretched. However, he immediately became aware of his surroundings when he felt another sleeping body that was a bit too close for comfort. Sitting up, he looked down at you, now getting a better chance to look at you.

You were a hybrid like him, a cat hybrid. Your fur was orange, but the color had rusted due to the dust, dirt, and grime that was stuck on you. Seems like you were in the same boat as him, on the streets. But you were so little, so young, why the hell were you here and not somewhere warm?

Kyle began to nudge you awake, wanting to interrogate you. “Hey, wakie-wakie.” You grunted and stretched your legs out before curling your spine as your dusty ears folded back for a second. “I’m not your pa, why’re you still here?” You stared up at him, letting out a soft grunt in response.

“You don’t talk, huh? Why’s that?” He asked as he folded his cane up, storing it away in his bag. You grunted again in response, blinking at him. “You just gonna follow me around like a little guttersnipe? Is that it?” He chuckled, standing up which resulted in you following suit. To his surprise, you nodded.

He sighed and began to walk to a street where he could try and make some cash with you following quickly behind him. “I suppose there’s no getting rid of you. That’s fine, just make your own money. No leeching off of me.” Kyle stated firmly.

A few minutes later, he found a spot on a sidewalk where he sat down and put his sign and hat out in front of him. You stayed by him, seated and now whimpering in hunger. “I know, the hunger sucks. You’ll get used to it, kitty.”

The day passed, and at some point, you had actually left Kyle alone. He had no idea where you went, but he paid no mind. That is until you came back around noon with a smile on your face. “What’s got you so perky, kitty?” His eyes widened when you suddenly pulled out wads of cash.

“What the- you shouldn’t steal…!” He scolded you with a hushed voice, not wanting to attract the authorities if they were nearby. “That’s wrong, kitty, you’ll get in massive trouble for that kind of stuff.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. You had a guilty look on your face, your slightly matted tail hanging low on the ground in shame.

Kyle sighed before motioning you to sit by him while he looked around for any onlookers. “...just put what you have in my bag, okay…?” He whispered, pushing his bag to you before you emptied the contents of your pockets into it. He was surprised by how much you’d been able to steal, from pickpocketing he assumed. “But still, no stealing. Got it?” You nodded, unable to hold back a small grin of pride from how mildly impressed he was.

A few moments passed before Kyle turned to you, “Do you know how to talk?” His voice was curious, laced with worry. His brows raised when you shook your head no, a small sound leaving your throat. “Your parents didn’t teach you or something?” You simply shrugged in response. “I suppose I’ll take that as a no.”

There was more silence between the two of you. Just the sound of people walking by, only glimpses of their conversations could be caught, the loud engines of the cars and buses that drove by, the rare instance someone would put a few quid into Kyle’s hat. “...how long are you gonna stick around?”

You shrugged again, another small sound leaving you. “You just gonna follow me forever? Till the end of time?” He cracked a smile at you. You smiled and nodded eagerly. “I made that much of an impression last night?” Kyle laughed a little. He stared at you, slightly leaning closer to get a better look at you. You were too young to be living like this.

He ruffled your hair as he leaned back, “I suppose I’ll have to teach you some vocabulary then, huh?” You squealed and laughed, pulling his hand off of you. That sound made him feel something, something that shifted. He’d never felt a paternal instinct before, but there was something about that feeling. Something that he welcomed with open arms.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a few months since you two met, and things were looking okay. You had learned a few words, memorized most of the alphabet, and were working on small sentences. Kyle had actually caught you whispering to yourself, his ears twitched as he focused on what you were saying. He had to hold back a smile when you were just repeating sentences over and over again, and trying to make up new ones.

Money was looking okay as well. Kyle had been saving before you came into his life, though he had managed to finally get close enough to having a home. Not a luxurious one, but enough for a trailer. He had more motivation than ever when you decided to stick around with him. He wanted to get you off the streets as soon as possible.

You were currently on the swings at a playground, chanting “Higher!” as Kyle pushed you. “Christ, I don’t think you can go any higher, kitty.” He chuckled. “Y’might wanna start coming down, it’s almost time for lunch.” “What’s lunch?” “Sandwiches.”

With that, you came down from the swing and went to the park benches, settling down for lunch. You munched on your lunch, a soft purr emanating from you. “Are you happy?” Kyle asked with a small smile, which grew as you nodded rapidly. “Is it the sandwich or the park that made you happy?”

“Two!” You exclaimed. “Two? You mean both of them make you happy?” Kyle smiled, “Yeah, both.” You replied. “And you.” You quickly added on. “Me? I make you happy?” He pointed to himself, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah!” You affirmed before taking another bite out of your meal.

Kyle smiled with a happy sigh, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Well, you make me happy too, kitty.”

───♡───────────── End

Thank you all so much for your patience! I hope you can forgive me for the wait :)

------ Taglist: @venavanup @draculauraspage @tf141gloryhole @obnoxiousbag @chanel-princess-world @ssc7514

If you would like to be added to the taglist so you can read my latest fics, let me know! Thank you :)

[iamespecter]

I know you probably gave up on the Glamrock Chica AU as Gregory's guardian, but I personally think you should continue. Many people prefer to do it with Roxy or Monty, and there are very few with Chica as the guardian. I think this AU of yours has the potential to be very good.

sigh.... I still love Glamrock Chica...

but I feel like the whole universe is against me at this point for being a Chica fan and I just know that either 1.) no one's gonna pay attention to a Chica-based AU, or 2.) just shit on it because it doesn't match the popular headcanons.

So unfortunately, My Guardian Chica AU is cancelled.

If you would like to know the rough concept of it that I've written down because you're curious, then click "keep reading" to read below the cut.

The Guardian Chica AU is actually a simple morality test.

Beginning:

It starts off with the normal SB route: Freddy is the child's starting guardian, and he is helping the child escape. Chica is under Vanny's control, and is actively fighting against this, but is too powerless to break free from the virus' hold.

... Until Fazer Blast. Freddy and the kid find themselves on the catwalks, where a glitching Chica with an axe has them cornered. Freddy, not knowing how to end this peacefully, decides to bring Chica down with him while removing the chip that's causing her to be controlled in the first place.

Chica then wakes up, and Freddy is HEAVILY damaged because he (mostly) cushioned her fall. Chica, still not fully herself, hallucinates Freddy as Vanny; and she begins tearing him apart out of frustration and fear, ripping his head off because she wanted to see who was underneath the Vanny mask.

THIS is where the story begins. You take control of Chica (instead of a kid protagonist), where Chica must ensure the child's survival, and get them out in time for 6 AM. But there is a catch.

The more you use brute force, the more Chica's morality goes south. And you'll always have two choices, either which you:

Kill the Day and Nightcare Attendants to gain access to the Daycare, or use their environmental weaknesses (the light, and the darkness) to refrain them from catching the kid.

Eliminate the PARTY PASS BOTS to get into a venue much easier, or find PARTY PASSES, while avoiding the kid's hunters.

Destroy SECURITY BOTs to lessen chances of the kid getting spotted, or use the BOTs' blind spots strategically to prevent them from alerting anyone.

Refrain from attacking Roxanne Wolf and let her take one of the chicken's eyes, or defend yourself and damage Roxanne Wolf enough to send her running back.

You will then encounter Montgomery Gator, who is now guarding Gator Golf with an iron fist. Monty will taunt Chica for the remainder of the boss fight:

either telling her how WEAK and COWARDLY she is because she isn't fighting back (Peaceful route);

being confused about her methods because it feels like she's constantly changing her mind (neutral route);

or praising her for finally, FINALLY using her features for something "worthwhile" (morally numb route).

But regardless of what path Chica has chosen, Monty will end up revealing a morbid truth as yet another taunt: that he killed Bonnie, because he wanted his spot in the band. And that he'd kill Bonnie over and over again, if it meant he would remain popular. That now Freddy has been reduced to nothing but a head, HE'LL be the number ONE.

And regardless of what path Chica has chosen, Monty will ALWAYS end up dead.

and depending on how much you've been using brute force, Freddy's head will either:

Be BEYOND mortified by Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, but believes she can still refrain from doing this in the future (peaceful route)

is taken aback by Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, and is starting to doubt Chica's capacity of ensuring the kid's safety (neutral route)

Gets angry at Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, and refrains from speaking to her. (morally numb route)

Roxanne Wolf is then up next, and depending on how you reacted to earlier choices, you can either:

Convince Roxanne that she doesn't have to do this, that she doesn't have to keep living under Vanny's shadow out of fear and don't strike her (peaceful, only possible if you let Roxanne take Chica's eyes)

Fight and defeat Roxanne but spare her, making her go rogue and not choosing any side between Vanny or Chica (neutral)

Kill Roxanne emotionally and physically, taking her eyes as revenge (morally numb, only possible if you defend yourself)

ENDINGS/POSSIBLE ROUTES

The "MORALLY NUMB" ending (bad):

You chose the easier path and ignored Freddy’s plea, let Chica kill Security Bots to keep the kid safer in the plex, kill Roxy as well out of pure anger for taking out her eye, and take her upgrades for yourself.

Freddy begins to be distrustful of Chica, and soon even resent her and her actions at the end.

This leads to Vanny getting killed, but not without consequence.

Freddy will ask Chica to leave him behind instead of following her any longer. He can’t bear to see the monster that has become of his friend, and Chica will comply with his request, leaving Chica numb.

Chica’s objective becomes less and less of keeping the kid safe, and more of the desire to get revenge after what happened to her and Bonnie.

Semi-open ending.

"You were no better than them. Better to leave me here to rot, than to accompany you on your bloodlust." - Freddy

The "GUITAR HERO" ending (neutral):

You chose to listen to Freddy’s plea, Chica retains her moral codes, and keep the kid safe the harder way.

Vanny is turned in to the authorities to be helped with her mind control situation, and her plans are thwarted until a new "Vanny" shows up.

Chica DOES NOT manage to get Roxy in your side, and Roxy will act rogue, picking no sides this time.

The Pizzaplex does not burn down. Instead, Monty, Chica and Freddy are replaced by Mr. Hippo, Happy Frog, and Nedd Bear.

Chica, Freddy and the kid runs away from the plex to live on their own, but still end up dying via energy depletion.

"You promised to stay with me... why did you lie instead?" - the kid

The "SUPER POPSTAR" ending (good):

You chose to listen to Freddy’s plea, Chica retains her moral codes, and keep the kid safe the harder way.

Uncover the shady past of Fazbear Entertainment, uploading their dirty secrets onto the internet, shutting them off for good. (this guarantees this ending)

Vanny is turned in to the authorities to be helped with her mind control situation, and her plans are thwarted for good this time, no Vanny comes replacing the old one.

Chica progressively gets more and more damaged as time goes on.

Chica manages to get Roxy on your side.

The Pizzaplex burns down.

Chica deactivates amidst the flames, with Freddy by her side at the very, very end.

The route ends with Roxy and the kid finding Chica’s body after the fire, and she takes her head along with Freddy’s.

The most ambiguous ending out of the three.

"Don't blame yourself kid. It's not what they would've wanted you to think. Not what she would want you to think. (...) We'll find a way. That's a promise." - Roxy

....Yeah, the Guardian Chica AU has no happily-ever-after ending. Sorry.

[sillyandquest]

So I had an idea

To be completely honest, I mostly drew this as a treat for me. We don't see a lot of Roll outside of a cutscene or manning the shops and it just makes sense for her to be the player 2 in-game. Yeah we got Protoman and Bass, but c'mon!

I wanna see this lady charging in, full throttle, wooden chair in hand, and smack Wily's newest machine around like a piñata.

So yeah, player 2 au I guess? There's more info below the cut if you wanna read. Be warned, it's a long one.

First I had to ask myself why would Roll even want to fight when Rock does just fine on his own.

Roll's a coward canonically, but she also has a big heart and is willing to fight if she has to. Maybe after the first Megaman game, Rock came back far more damaged than Dr. Light expected. While this does convince him to build Rush, Roll also volunteers to join Rock in this fight.

Dr. Light was super hesitant, but Roll's reasoning was that if Wily was willing to kidnap the Light Numbers to one up Light, who knows what else he would do? Rock already had a hard time fighting them by himself and the Numbers weren't even built to fight. If Wily was smart enough to reprogram civil servant robots, why wouldn't he reprogram robots built to fight?

Eventually, Dr. Light relented and built Roll her own set of armor and a durable broom. She has a shorter attack range, but in exchange she deals way more damage. She doesn't have the copy chip Rock does, so her armor doesn't change color, but her broom does and can change shape/color depending on which weapon is equipped.

Now onto my thought process during the drawing.

When I was drawing the armor, I wanted to keep a couple things in mind. Specifically, what makes Roll so iconic by herself. She has her hair, the green bow, her dress, and her broom/cleaning products.

One other thing I kept in mind was the various depictions of Roll in combat armor. Many fans have made their own and they all look amazing, but I always thought Roll was more of a heavy hitter up close. Most equip Roll with a buster like Rock, which is a good direction to go in, but it wasn't what I wanted to do. Then I looked at Roll's"official" armors, specifically the armor she wore during the Upon a Star movie and the armor she dreamed of from Megaman 11.

I basically put a chest piece and shoulder armor over the Megaman 11 armor, I removed the buttons on it, both of them had a heart motif on the chest which I thought suited Roll very well so I added that. I also used her hat from the Megaman Fangame Perfect Blue. You may notice her arms don't have the bulky arm guards most robot masters have... Yeah, I have no excuse for that, but Splash Woman doesn't have the guards either sooooo.....happy accident?

They're sisters so they matching!!!

I think the colors were the hardest part. I colored the dress to be more red with a pinker red for the heart and middle of the dress. Originally I had the skirt be a solid pink color and the rest of the armor be red and white, but it looked off to me. I knew I had to add her bow which meant adding green and I think that's what threw off the whole thing. The first draft only had a green bow, and I felt I had to add it somewhere else to make it look more appealing and I immediately went to color the buttons on the heart green. A small callback to Zero that doubles as a parallel.

That kinda makes me wonder if Zero was modeled after Roll and Protoman in this au. Also, what would the Megaman timeline even be like with Roll as a fighter alongside Rock? It's always better when someone has your back and Rock and Roll were always meant to be a pair.

They're twins in this au, not a couple. Just had to set the record straight.

Anyway, speaking of Blues. It makes sense why Protoman wouldn't show up as much in this context. Roll is right there, why would Rock need Protoman's help? I imagine he usually shows up only in situations where Rock and Roll are forcibly separated or shows up to both of them individually. Whether it's because he wants to help them be more independent or test the strength of their bond remains to be seen.

I have more to say about this au, I'll try drawing some expressions and go into more detail regarding Rock and Roll's personalities in the au.

[the-apocrypha]

DVD Bonus Features: Fanfic Edition!

I have like 6k of cut scenes from my last fic (the fourth dimension) and many of them were not cut because they were bad, but because they weren't working with the overall story. Seems a shame to let them languish on Google docs. So, for anyone who might be interested - here's two scenes that didn't make the final cut!

<<<>>>

The hourglass is broken. 

The glass is intact, of course, as is the intricate brass housing Dream had spent so many hours bending and curving into symmetrical spirals. It is the spring plate that forms one of the bases—designed to depress slowly as the weight of sand gathers, thereby stretching a miniature steel coil beneath such that it begins to draw back a tiny gilt hammer. When the full weight of sand is upon it, the catch releases, and the hammer strikes the chime. 

Dream had left the mechanism skeletonized, proud of both the ingenuity and the beauty of the gears he had crafted. This is what allows him to see, today, that even though the sand piles upon the spring plate, the hammer remains stationary. The plate is not depressing.

He has migrated to the window for better light and turned the hourglass every which way. The symmetry of the hourglass means that an identical mechanism exists on the other side, for convenient comparison, and it is from this that Dream is hypothesizing that the issue is perhaps with the pinion gear. 

He will not know for certain until he attempts correction. 

And herein lies the problem, for in a masterful stroke of arrogance on his own part: 

The glass is intact. 

His only options now to access the mechanism are to melt the glass, or strategically break it apart, and in either case hope for both minimal damage to the contents and an aesthetically pleasing repair following the—

“What’s wrong, dove?” 

Or rather, what Hob actually says is hǒu is th' problem, culver?, because Dream is standing in the kitchen next to an abandoned bowl of muesli, because it is breakfast, because during breakfast they speak Middle English. Hob is before him, coffee in one hand, breakfast sandwich in the other. 

“It’s broken,” Dream replies. Is brokæ.

“It’s nearly eight,” Hob replies, eyebrows up. 

Dream abruptly sets the hourglass down. 

“So you noticed the Astrid Alarm was broken,” Hob says, as Dream swings the freezer door open and starts shifting ice packs and frozen pizzas about. “And then you didn’t set a different alarm. You didn’t eat your breakfast. You didn’t pack your bag.” 

“This is unhelpful.”

Hob goes quiet as Dream frantically stuffs notebooks into his backpack, then a water bottle (too light, probably empty), the peas, headphones, and a sweater from the back of a chair that is likely not his own. Three binder clips go into his pocket. All he needs is—

He turns to find Hob waiting, Dream’s wallet in one hand, sandwich in the other, meat now removed. 

Dream accepts both, and heads for the windowsill. 

“No kiss?” Hob complains.

The broken hourglass, too, goes into his bag. 

Dream doubles back, cups the side of Hob’s face more for the sake of injury prevention than tenderness, and presses a quick kiss of gratitude where it belongs. 

The hand on his wrist stays him. 

Hob’s fingers fall comfortably between the three watch bands that lie there, his thumb over Dream’s pulse point. 

“Tonight, five o’clock,” Hob reminds him. 

Dream holds up his other arm in reply, where a fourth watch glints golden. 

“Ah, perfect,” Hob says, beaming. “Hob Fob to the rescue.” 

It is one of the many great failures of Dream’s life, that this nickname has persisted. 

“Five,” Dream agrees, and pulls his hand free. “You will be wonderful.” 

“Best in my age group,” Hob agrees proudly, and raises his coffee mug just as Dream turns around to make for the door. The mug is a custom job from the internet a few years ago, chipped in both paint and porcelain, but the original black with white lettering can still be read: 

It does not belong to Hob. 

WORLD’S 

LEAST 

PUNCTUAL 

WATCHMAKER 

<<<>>>

(Originally there was an OC named Astrid that Dream would birdwatch with every morning, and Hob had a piano recital in the evening. Obviously these plot points went, and so the breakfast scene had to be rewritten.)

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. 

It cannot feel the sun moving across the sky. It does not know the axis of the Earth, nor the ellipsis of its orbit. It does not reach into the fabric of the universe and pluck divine truth from the red-shift coefficient of the galaxies that hurtle through space as afterthought projectiles of the origin of existence. 

A watch begins with a mainspring—or perhaps a quartz crystal, or microscopic solar panels—but traditionally, a mainspring. This is where the potential energy is stored, to be released as the kinetic energy that will drive the gears to turn the escapement, which is what moves the hands of the watch forward, and would do so without rhythm or reason were it not for the staying hands of the balance wheel. 

The balance wheel is the best part of a watch. The most precise. The most expensive, for the precious gems encrusted upon it that almost entirely eliminate the enemy of constancy: friction. It is what decides the length of a second, for it is what checks the urgency of the marching army of gears that say go go go go go and instead says no. It says, stop. For one thousand milliseconds or one million microseconds or one trillion picoseconds, it holds the entire watch in perfect stillness. 

Then the second hand ticks over. The next interval begins. 

On, and on, and on, and on, it goes. 

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. It is a mindless contraption, a work of metal and stone and glass, and it grinds inexorably forward with a steady tick, tick, tick, tick, tick that may at first listen sound like the drumbeats of progress. But listen closer. Listen carefully. 

It is not a ticking that you hear. It is one small gear, striking back against the machine, protesting, crying out again and again: wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

(I liked this little meditation on the nature of watches, but it's a few shades off from my central thesis, and in the end was not needed.)

And that's it! Alas, sometimes good pieces must be sacrificed in the name of a greater project.

[kurt-xiii]

Just some ideas that I really need to flush out of my head so I can continue my life. I know close to nothing about computer, and I didn’t really think this through so I hope it makes sense.

This is a sci-fi AU, which the crowns function as servers governing every aspect of their people’s lives, while the bishops serve as administrators overseeing these servers.

Narinder makes a discovery: the ability to upload a person’s mind onto his server. Recognizing the potential threat of Narinder gaining ultimate control by plundering minds and recreating reality in virtual form, the rest of the bishop lock Narinder’s mind in his server with his own method.

The bishops disconnect everyone’s neural chips from the red server. However, they find that the connection between the red server and the neural chips designed for lambs cannot be fully severed. So they decide to kill them all.

Due to the unstable connection, the last lamb is the only one with enough uploaded information to function properly.

Ratau becomes a former vessel by accidentally connecting himself to the red server while looting the abandoned server building.

Servers and their domains:

Red server- data storage, information technology

Green server- eco system, bio engineering

Yellow server- resource, transportation

Blue server- security system

Purple server- social media, communication, television

Resurrection- making backups of memories and personalities

Death for lamb= current body damaged, upload save to new body back in the cult

Relics- chips that allow lamb to access some functions from abandoned servers

Curses- Access into either enemy or environment’s system to trigger certain actions.

Birds (Clauneck, Kudaai, Chemach)- first generation sentient AI

Wounds on bishops- data got permanently corrupted? Or the code Narinder uploaded onto them can’t be removed by the knowledge they have? So even when they change the damaged parts it’s still not working?

[thehousealllwaysswins]

[it takes her a few minutes to get the anchor back on the deck, obviously tying the ship to the dock so it doesn’t drift off, then a few More minutes to try and dry off Daice and pick off barnacles or whatever might’ve gotten on him]

[after making sure at least the amount of water damage done he snaps his fingers around a sensor trying to wake him up]

[if that doesn’t do anything she’ll try to fix what he can]

(Igotta 17 on perception or whatever lets gooo)

[Daice looks in really bad shape, his body wasn't made that well but now? Holy shit it's bad. Parts of him is rusted away and a hermit crab crawls out of his chest, SeaWeed is covering one of his legs and it looks like his chip had been removed, when Alphonze checks him she can see its been put into a water proof container inside another waterproof container to stay safe. Sparks of electricity occasionally shock out from his body but it looks to have been shut down.]

[There is also a hole inside his chest, his body had been stabbed into the anchor either by falling or doing it to himself, maybe even another reason.]

[anomaly-hivemind]

Hospital Visits || Hanahaki Recovery w/ Hyoma Chigiri x Mute!Reader

Masterlist

Notes: this takes place sometime in October

Word Count: 910

You sat in bed reading a badly written SasuNaru omegaverse fanfiction on Wattpad when the door slid open. You looked up to see Chigiri at the door, you smiled wordlessly and waited for him to come in.

You had basically lost your entire voice from all the damage hanahaki had done to your throat. You had been told by the doctors that it’ll be a miracle if you gain your voice back. But even if you did recover your voice it would take months to heal.

So in the meantime, you've taken up learning sign language but with Chigiri you just use text-to-speech.

“I hope you’re feeling better, I brought you some ice cream, your favorite, mint chocolate. Also before you ask, yes I brought chocolate chip cookies.” Chigiri said, holding up the convenience store bag.

You smiled, accepted the bag happily, and set it on the bed table. You pulled the small cup of ice cream and the box of cookies out of the bag before folding it up and placing it to the side.

If only this happiness could’ve happened before you contracted hanahaki. You were one of Chigiri’s only real friends; you didn’t look at him like the prodigy soccer player everyone worshiped him as, you didn’t look down on either.

He was just Hyoma Chigiri; because of that, you couldn’t help falling for him. Unfortunately, your friendship didn’t make spilling your feelings any easier, in fact, it just made things harder.

Friend. Friend. Friend…

You hated that word.

It seemed every time that you thought your feelings might’ve been reciprocated you were forced into the friendzone. So instead you buried them deep down. That would end with you getting hanahaki, for weeks you were coughing up Camelia petals, and then he left for Blue Lock.

That day we were supposed to hang out and had worked up the courage to confess your feelings. But when he didn’t come back you didn't know what to do. It was like the universe was telling you to give up,

You tried to forget about him, but as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, So you grew sicker and sicker. You had resigned to finally giving up and getting the surgery when you learned it was too late. Your last wish was just to see Chigiri, you didn’t even care if he didn’t love you or he was still your best friend.

He got special permission to go outside bluelock to visit her on her deathbed and you admitted you love. If you were going to die you at least wanted the one boy you loved that he was loved.

What surprised you was when you found your feelings reciprocated. It was a weight off your chest, or from in your chest.

After that the growth in your lungs stopped, you were able to get a removal surgery and though you would have to stay in the hospital a while longer as the doctors monitored your recovery you weren’t going to die an unloved loser anymore.

“So how was this week at Blue Lock been?” The robotic monotone voice said. Chigiri looked up from where he was replacing flowers in a vase as he paused for a moment before speaking.

“It’s been intense, Ego works us to the bone, but it’s not bad I can really feel myself improving,”

The two of you went on and on talking, Chigri mostly telling you about his week at Blue Lock. Before you knew it the sun was setting and it was time for Chigiri to go back to Blue Lock.

You smiled and waved as he got up to head out the door. He gave you the routine kiss on the forehead but he seemed like he wanted to say something.

“Is there something you want to say?”

“I’m sorry, for giving you hanahaki I mean,” Chigiri said, running his fingers through his hair.

A nervous smile came to your face as you looked up at your boyfriend. Has that been what he’s been thinking this whole time? That your near death was entirely his fault?

You sure hope not.

“Chigiri, it’s not your fault I decided to keep my feelings a secret, and it certainly isn’t your fault that you got sucked into some experimental soccer program. I was prepared to die because I was stubborn. You don’t have to blame yourself because I afflicted myself, If I never talk again it’ll only serve as an inconvenience. I mean you always seem to know what I’m thinking,”

Chigiri smiled, the weight of the guilt off his chest. You gave him a peck on the lips before pushing him through the door.

“Before you go I have a gift for you, here,” You said, pulling a small gift bag from seemingly nowhere. Chigiri looked at you and you nodded. Inside was a headband (or a sweatband depending on how you looked at it) with Camelia’s embroidered on it.

He didn’t really need an explanation behind the girt, he just knew.

“Thanks,” Chigiri said as he got up. he gave you a quick peck in the lips that left you stunned as he walked to the door waved once more and disappered from your sight.

~~~~~~

Later at bluelock.

“Dude Chigiri where’d you get the headband?

“None of your business,”

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Feral Hunter

I wrote most of this in a reblog but thought it deserved its own post as my unwieldy response took on a life of its own, which they have a tendency to do. I’ve added more to it as well so there’s some new extra ramblings on one of my favourite ideas/headcanons/theories for season 3 of The Bad Batch. 

Give me Feral Hunter. My kingdom for Feral Hunter. Completely unhinged, vengeance fueled, feral Hunter. He can go on his Joel Miller/The Mandalorian/John Wick/Liam Neeson in Taken/The Punisher arc, as a little treat.

I've been trying to figure out why I love this idea so much. I think it's because we never really see any of the Batch actually, properly unleash. Sure, they're unconventional and a bit bonkers in their approach but they're still a very well-oiled machine. When they're on a mission, they all know exactly what they're doing, what their roles are, and where their squad mates are. Even when they improvise on the fly, they all adapt fairly easily and smoothly. Everything is still all rather professional, smooth, and efficient. Like they're all operating on muscle memory, which they basically are given how many countless times I'm sure they've trained and done missions together.

Even when the Batch is fighting their way through Kamino, they still operate with that same smooth, efficient, hyper competent professionalism. Despite their unorthodox approach, there's still this sense that they're contained. Never throwing off the shackles and being completely unrestrained. The full unbridled force of their abilities and skills simmering just below the surface, waiting to be given free rein and just obliterate everything.

There's a little hint of this in the opening scene of episode 2x14 'Tipping Point', where the ARC Trooper in Echo comes out to play. But oh, how I would love to see more. From all of them, but especially Hunter. 

Look at his face. Look at that expression and all those emotions from Sergeant Stoic himself, who is usually fairly reserved and contained. Dorito Bod Bandana Space Dad on the warpath to get his ad'ika back, cutting a swathe through the Imperials, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, and taking out anything and everything that even thinks about getting in his way. Hunter goes full Space Rambo mode, ruthlessly taking out Stormtroopers, blood dripping off his vibroblade, eyes wide and deranged, as he turns into a complete animal. His half tattooed skull now completed by the blood of his enemies covering the other side of his face. For extra angst, when he finds Omega, she doesn’t recognise him. The figure standing in the smoking remains of the door to her cell looks like Hunter. Is wearing Hunter’s armour. Is holding Hunter’s vibroknife. But that’s not Hunter. That’s not her buir. Not anymore. And she’s afraid of him. We get a little hint of this at the very end of season 2 and oh ho ho, I am so ready for more. I am so ready for Hunter’s descent into vengeance, revenge and rage. Not just Hunter either, I’d love to see the rest of the Batch unleash as well.

Can you just imagine Wrecker properly unleashing? All of that strength and power finally freed as he rips limbs off Stormtroopers, snapping necks and crushing skulls with his bare hands. The crumpled, pulverised bodies of his enemies discarded behind him as he rages down corridor after corridor of whatever Imperial base they’ve infiltrated. We got a hint of how damaging Wrecker can be when his chip activated but that was chip controlled. This would just be pure Wrecker. 

We see a little more of this in Crosshair's actions and you could also argue that this is chip controlled. Or if his chip has actually been removed, then Crosshair’s actions are definitely still clouded by his Imperial mindset and blind delusion that the Empire is right. Right up until it all goes horribly wrong on Barton-4 and he finally wakes up to the reality of his nightmare. Either way, that unrestrained part of him is still there. The amount of rage and anger that must be building up and festering inside Crosshair is eventually going to explode. When he snaps like he did at the end of 'The Outpost' then there isn’t going to be an Imperial left without a blaster bolt between their eyes. When Hemlock ends up dying (he better), my bet is on Crosshair taking him out and getting revenge. And it won't be pretty. He'd shoot him execution style at the very least. 

I'd love to see Tech (shut up he's alive) completely lose it and finally snap off every ounce of his carefully crafted control. I've written about this before but Tech's combat is exceptionally efficient and precise. He only ever uses the minimum number of shots or moves to take out an enemy because he doesn't need to expend anything beyond what is necessary. Complete economy of form. His combat style is very contained, almost like a mirror of his personality and character. Can you just imagine him snarling and growling like a beast, teeth bared, eyes dark, face distorted in rage, as he slams a Stormtrooper's head into a control panel desk with enough force to crack their helmet and shatter their visor. 

I mentioned above that we've seen a tiny bit of this slightly unhinged quality from Echo. There's another little hint of it when they're all in that training simulation on Kamino.

This gifset from @starqueensthings shows this perfectly, especially the above gif. I love the line they wrote at the top of their post as well, which I'm going to quote in part here: "I’d like to introduce my scomp arm TO YOUR JUGULAR WIRE." This perfectly encapsulates the unhinged quality lurking in Echo. He just leaps onto the back of what looks like the Kaminoan version of a B2 super battle droid and then proceeds to flail and stab madly before plunging his scomp arm into the battle droid's chest and ripping out the droid version of its jugular. Absolutely unhinged behaviour. The absolute madlad.

Now picture Echo finally snapping and doing this to a bunch of Imperials and just absolutely annihilating them. There is so much in him that is screaming to be let out. The general batshittery that comes with being an ARC Trooper. The insanity and chaos of coming from the 501st and Torrent Company. The unconventional, yeet-the-reg-manual-out-the-airlock, bonkers existence of The Bad Batch. Plus all that trauma, fury and rage of what has happened to him, what was done to him, and everything that he’s seen, experienced, endured, suffered, and survived. When the last few frayed threads holding Echo back finally snap he is going to go completely postal.

Is it healthy? No. Is it "good"? Probably not. But my god, would I love to see it.

The Clone Wars has a history of tackling and portraying difficult, multilayered and nuanced topics and we've seen that in The Bad Batch as well. More recent Star Wars series, such as Andor and The Mandalorian, have also had a real interest in showing the murky areas that exist between the good (Republic) and the bad (Imperial). There's been a particular focus on showing that there's a lot more grey than we think, rather than the pure dichotomy between cliched black and white. That sometimes there is no right or wrong decision. That sometimes everything is awful and everyone is stuck in a shitty situation from which there is no way to escape unscathed. In order to make it out alive, lines are going to be crossed. The battle of good vs evil takes on a new edge and the line between good and bad gets very murky.

That quote about how “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain” comes to mind. In this instance, the Batch are still fighting tooth and nail for each other but their sacrifices and actions are starting to take them to much darker places. It’s a classic example of good people being driven to do bad, awful, terrible things when those they love are in danger and they will do whatever it takes to save them.  

The whole 'deeply flawed parental figure seeking vengeance' is a popular trope at the moment as well so Feral Hunter would make sense narratively for a number of reasons.

Will we actually get it? Probably not. And even if we do, it'll probably still be a watered-down kid friendly version.

But oh, just imagine if we did.

[bippiti]

moonlight hymns

tanjiro x blood breathing hashira reader (gn)

synopsis: after completing your mission you hear some strange sounds in the forest and decide to investigate

the wind pulled your hair into your face and you pushed it away with your good hand. well, better hand. your left one had been cut and your index finger broken, and your right hand was bruised. your mission although somewhat easy didn’t fail to leave you without some scratches and scrapes. you began to hum a tune, looking up to the moon and then down to the ground, curses began to spew out of your mouth. you had managed to chip your sword, it was small, but enough to warrant a visit to the village once you were more rested. you prayed silently that arisada-san wouldn’t be too upset with you. as you continued forward you heard a noise, a few miles east of you. closing your eyes you focus more on the scent, you could make out 2-no 3 humans and 2 demons. the smell of blood filtered through your nostrils and you set out, pulling your blade out as you ran.

tanjiro could barely see, he had gotten nicked above his forehead and the blood was seeping into his right eye, that coupled with the fact that he still had 3 broken ribs from his original mission didn't help either. inosuke wasn’t in any better condition, he was bleeding pretty heavily from slashes the demon had cut into his chest, and zenitsu was two breaths short of a full-on panic attack. he looked to nezuko who was barely able to keep up with the demon and stared at the moon, forcing himself much to his body's displeasure, to get up. he heard some ruffling sounds and not even two seconds later, saw a red haori eclipsing the moon. immediately the person began fighting alongside nezuko and with one swoop of the sword tanjiro is almost intoxicated by the smell of blood, was everywhere, in the air around him, his clothes- he looks up to see the demon's head on the floor, slowly disintegrating. looking up to his savior he tries to say thank you, but the words die in his throat. black starts to close in on his eyes and he thinks someone is calling his name.

nearing the now unconscious boy you try and assess the damage, after removing his haori and unbuttoning his uniform you graze your hands over his chest. the uneven feeling of his ribs makes you cringe as you further investigate. all in all, he had 3 broken ribs, a broken finger, sprained wrist, and not the mention cuts on seemingly every part of his body. you quickly looked over the others, the boy with a boar head refused to let you near him so you knocked him out with a swift chop to the neck. you had to assure nezuko that you only did this to help him, as her horns began to come out again. after figuring him out, you then went to the yellow hair boy who seemed to be having a heart attack. you knelt down, letting the damp soil touch your feet as you clasped your hands around his shaking ones. looking up, he immediately rushed into your arms, and began to sob into your shoulder. brushing your hands through his hair you hushed him and slowly rocked back and forth, soon enough light snores could be heard from him and you hoisted him onto your shoulder. after helping nezuko get into her box you put her on your back. inoskue went on your left shoulder and you carried tanjiro bridal style. luckily, you weren’t far from your intended destination.

the wind had become more chilling and had picked up in intensity as you finally reached the gates of the butterfly estate. almost immediately after arriving, you were surrounded by aoi and some other kakushi. they whisked the boys out of your grasp and ushered you to your usual room at the mansion. there your wounds were patched up. after they were all done, you went to one of the other infirmary rooms to return nezuko and watch over the 3.

you had already met tanjiro, he had been summoned over his and nezukos unusual circumstances, but you hadn’t really spoken to each other. you doubt he would even remember it if you were being honest. after a while, you began to feel your eyes close and you let the warm embrace of sleep wash over you.

[ourgalaxiescollide]

Now, something many people did not take into consideration when it came to horns was how difficult they were to maintain. Seen as trophys or signs of status, those without them rarely thought of how much care was put into a healthy set of horns.

Callahan, for one, had never been good about maintaining his horns. As a child, his mother or father would handle grooming, then as an adolescent, there was never an opportunity or time, as they were either cut short or removed entirely, head bandaged to stop the bleeding. Then, as a wanderer, he never really took the time to maintain them past healing any breaks or filing them down enough that they were relatively healthy.

The tiefling winced as the tender new growth of his horns snagged against his rough fingertips, frowning at the coarse, scared horntips that were slowly but surely growing into points now. Growing horns the first time is one thing. Regrowing them was another. They would chip and peel like fingernails after damage, and when they were cut as deep as Callahan's were, they were extremely sensitive.

He sat there, in the bedroom facing a mirror, hands limp in his lap and file sitting on the bed next to him. He couldn't bring himself to pick it up. The bard knew this was important to do, but still, he resisted, shying away from the feeling of metal near his horns.

She had noted the man had retreated to his bedroom, but seeing as he had been acting a little quiet recently Riake didn't think too much of it. She knows that Callahan was much more introverted compared to her and needs his sperate space, but she also knew to never let the bard let linger in his thoughts for too long.

So thats what lead her to now, Riake arms were loosely crossed as she leans on his door way while peering into his quiet room.

Riake saw the file on the bed, the tall man sat on his larger bed as he stared almost emptily into the mirror across him. She knew what that look was, and she had a feeling as to what started it.

"You alright, my mate?"

[wellthebardsdead]

Evalien: *staring at the masks of the tribunal they’d collected, along with the severely damaged mask of dagoth Ur* the cult of the tribunals been busy, either that or nerevar simply pawned them all off to run away from their past.

Vivienne: you, knew nerevar?

Evalien: sort of… it’s hard to explain, it’s how I knew about you, all of you… *looks at the group quietly before looking back at the masks, tracing her hands over each one then stopping at vivecs* this one’s… the real one. It still has all the power he’d imbued into it.

Vivienne: the real one??

Evalien: *picks it up carefully, the ash chipping away a little from the lacquer* When dagoth ur first rose, he bathed the land in ash, burying Vivec and the refugees he was caring for. When vivec woke he was encased within hardened ash, and he sensed all the others around him he’d sworn to protect had perished. Weeping in rage he broke free and brought life back to them all, thankfully saving them before the corprus could take hold, but his tears touched the ash still clinging to his skin, anyone who touched it would be cured of aliments, supposedly even the corprus himself. So he trusted the temple would follow his orders and allow anyone and everyone to receive healing from it for free… but instead they made a cheap replica and hid the real one away. And yes, they charged a fee too. *sighs*

Vivienne: you sound like you admire him…

Evalien: Not admire, no, but… something like it… he had a hard life, and even after obtaining chim, despite all his wrong doings he still cared greatly for his people, and in the end, when Ayem went mad and Seht hid himself away. It was vivec who was left to govern the country on his own, I think he was relieved when nerevar returned. *looks at vivienne and smiles sadly, gently tucking his hair back behind his ear* …hm… *looks back at the mask before putting it on and tapping into the magic tied to it* …

Vivienne: Alma?…

Evalien: … *removes the mask showing her skin split down the middle, one side purple, and the other a deep blue mottled with gold like stars, one eye hers, and the other vivecs* … *turns and looks at vivienne with a soft surprised gasp* Vivienne?…

Vivienne: v-vivec?…

Vivec: *pauses for a moment, internally asking for permission to move Eva’s body as his own before nodding as tears well up in his eye* it’s me.

Wyrm: … *picks up sotha sils mask* my trauma source next please.

[0zzysaurus]

Oh my god did I ever talk about my father/son dynamic AU that I think G1 Wreck and TFA Wreck should have?

For this to work, you gotta adhere to my headcanon on the origins of the Junkion race, but essentially, as a quick introduction to what you need to know first — I hc that the entire planet is basically a Cybertronian war crime. Every single spark on that planet belonged to a bot who went “missing” during the first few waves of war on Cybertron. To link it to some of the TF book lore, the Junk planet only exists as a result of a failed Cybertronian space bridge project to dump a colossal amount of scrap waste into space — as a result, that space bridge became a convenient way to dump bodies of political prisoners without drawing too much attention. I also hc that the whole planet was basically embargoed and removed from maps for years and years until the events of ‘86 where it was rediscovered by accident and the planet eventually had to be acknowledged by the High Council. Awkward. I wonder if either side of the war will ever admit what they did. I sure hope that Cybertron doesn’t have any top secret documents detailing the entire dual-sided, long-term, systemic massacre against prisoners of conscience that, if released to the public, could start another catastrophic war. I’ll tell you about all that some other time.

For the Junkions themselves, all the damage from, well, the attempted murders have screwed up a lot of their processors, and those that were dumped with sober processors eventually had to replace those parts or offer functioning components to those who needed them more. They subsequently split up, shared, and lost fragments of their memories until they eventually Theseus’s Ship’d themselves into different bots. The spark is the only thing that remains. Most, if not all Junkions have little to no memory of what was done to them. It’s been so long that they’d much rather consider themselves native to planet Junk than dwell on frightening flashbacks or momentary flashes of lucidity in their processors.

I imagine that some bodies crash onto the planet in such a damaged state that you’ve essentially got a spark in a spark-chamber surrounded by shrapnel. The Junkions, of course, then take it upon themselves to hunt out sparks and build new frames for them so they can have more clanmates. This probably started as a very legitimate rescue protocol for recovering other survivors, but eventually, the practice became nothing more than an ingrained ritual. A lot of what they did for survival (I.e. extremely efficient repair, grouping together into large, cooperative tribes, and salvaging sparks) ended up becoming instinct over a few more millennia.

Does this mean every Junkion on the planet once had a totally different life on Cybertron with their own history, memories, and connection to the war? Yes. I’ll elaborate on that whenever I get around to it.

BUT, with all that cleared up, I think G1 Wreck-Gar gets a little broody watching TV and seeing sitcoms with families in them. He kind of likes the idea of having a smaller version of himself walking around who he can teach his culture to from the ground up and perhaps raise to be the next leader. The next time a body crashes into the planet, it’s while he’s out alone in the badlands. There’s another spark that needs housing, and he fixes up the frame the best he can, but the processor is absolutely fried. He remembers that he has a blank processor chip in his collection, and he’s been saving it for a moment like this. He swaps out the chips and starts to build up a frame that looks exactly like how he’d imagine his own “son” to look. He’d give it some of his features, like matching faceplate decals, but he wouldn’t make the new bot identical. He’d choose similar coloured scrap to his own frame, and perhaps even add a helm casing that reminded him of his favourite thing in the world — TV.

And BAM, you got a overly complicated father/son AU. He built his little boy outta garbage (just like he did with the rest of his kin) and he loves him sooooo much. Big Wreck and Little Wreck watchin’ telly together… out catchin’ distiller drakes in the dust bowl, stargazing, combat-training, and all the rest — I love the image of him helping TFA Wreck take his first steps in his new frame. BONUS POINTS if the sparks that inhabit both of their frames actually knew each other millions of years ago on Cybertron and the connection runs much deeper.

[ejfurbish]

hi, i adore your customs so much! ^^ i've been having trouble finding clear eye chips that fit 1998 furbies properly (14mm ones weren't thick enough and fell off even with glue). i was wondering where you got your eye chips from, or if you have a different process

Hello! Thank you so much! That means a lot ❤️!

Unfortunately almost every glass eye chips I have found online have had some issues. 🫠🫠🫠 So there isn't a "perfect" purchase out there. They are either over priced, came broken, or were too thick where the eyelids couldn't shut.

However, these were the best and closest options on Amazon I could find, they are the closest size (they're a little small but it's not noticeable) and most weren't too thick, but it only is for about 20 of them/purchase and that's if all of them are the right height;

With glass bead replacements I always make sure to place the glass beads into the sockets before gluing just to make sure that they fit and aren't too thick. Typically though you can tell just by looking at them and I recommend always doing this even with the above link, because each piece is a different size and some may be a lil' too big!

But honestly? Sometimes I don't want to bother using glass ones because like you had said they are hard to stay glued in. So what you can also do is soak the original eyecaps in some acetone! I soak mine for a few hours, take them out, and with a Qtip I lightly brush off the paint. Once the Qtip isn't releasing anymore of the paint you put it back in the acetone and wait. It takes some time and I learned there's about 4 layers of paint to go through. Then once it's all clear you just wash it with soap and water and let air dry. They should be clear and have some of the line engravings in them still which can make a cool eye texture for the furby! This also will reduce waste! So I highly recommend doing this method as well if the eyes weren't damaged by removal!

I did this method for my Succubus Furby Aggie and I absolutely love the line engravings;

And as for glue I am still figuring out the best method! I know that either glue you use you should always seal the eye design with something. Either clear spray paint finish or mod podge just to make sure that the design won't be damaged by the glue from the eyechip (Because no air can go between it so this sometimes causes the eye design to bleed and it makes for a mess under the eyechips).

Modpodge works great to attach the eyechip to the eye sockets however I have had better luck with either Super Glue GEL or Hot Glue for gluing the eye chips to the eye pattern! Hot glue it just hard to not make a mess with and you have to be fast or it'll dry and be too thick. I always place a small drop in the center of the eye design and then quickly put the eye chip ontop and push it down. This spreads the glue across the pattern for a clearer look. But be careful to not burn yourself and if you are using glass chips they also can get really hot. Also air bubbles can be your enemy so make sure there are enough glue sticks that won't cause it to sputter out and make air bubbles!

But realistically. My fav is still Super Glue Gel. It just gives a smoother look and dries quickly without moisture. So for me personally I do the following method;

Mod podge to seal the design -> Let Dry -> Super Glue Gel drop on design and then press eye chip onto it -> Let it dry over night -> Mod podge/Super Glue whole eye chip w/ design into sockets. -> Let cure for a day -> Use alcohol to clean off any clouding on top of eyechip that may occur from the super glue.

I hope this helps!!!!

[elfdragon12]

I'll get the episode, but there's a moment where someone, I believe Silverbolt, thinks Tarantulas is dead and takes a brief moment to show respect for the dead.

And yes Rattrap is definitely one to mock his dead enemies, not denying that.

Optimus Primal also continually tries to reason with Megaton even in Beast Machines, is angered when Dinobot kills his evil clone, mentions putting a large timer on a bomb and a warnign he put in Megatron's ship so they could escape peacefully and even when he kills Megatron in Beast Machines, Optimus does so somberly.

Inferno was not only reprogrammed to be a Predacon, but because Tarantulas rushed the reprogramming and interrupted Inferno's pod was already scanning a fire-Ant, his beast mode "overwrote his logic circuits" in the show's words. Tarantulas did more reprogramming on Inferno after he was damaged to make him loyal to them, but the Predacon shell program had already been placed in Inferno before he thought was an ant. Effectively making Inferno both brainwashed and brain damaged.

Quickstrike was amnesiac and immediately told he was one of Megatron's minions and to get to work, I'd call that indoctrination, particularly as he never learned he was a Maximal and that erasing Autobots would erase him too.

True, Quickstrike was stupid and belligerent to begin with before being indoctrinated into Predacons, but does that really make him irredeemable?

And I believe you're correct about the writers dismissing Waspinator, Inferno and Quickstrike as comic relief baddies, but I disagree that children wouldn't care about the villains being killed. If anything seeing Megatron's minions act like the three stooges makes the deaths or fate worse than death (in Waspinator's case) hit harder?

Is it one of the episodes leading up to the season 2 finale? Tarantulas doesn't play dead that often. I'm guessing it's only one or two passing lines before the story moves on and from the character whose defining traits are "noble" and "bleeding heart". Literally no one liked Tarantulas or would have said anything good about him after his death. He traumatized Cheetor two different times.

None of those things really indicate mercy specifically for Megatron. Optimus Primal was a scientist more invested in peace than being a soldier (a major reason I don't like the 2021 IDW retelling). It's major point in the episode "Gorilla Warfare". Also, if I remember that episode right, Optimus just says "you're disgusting" after Dinobot revealed the fate of the clone and flicked a piece at Optimus, hitting him. (Also, the way he was written in Beast Machines was very much criticized.)

You may not be remembering the episode "Spider's Game" quite right. Tarantulas gets a pod to land, removes the Maximal chip and replaces it with a Predacon chip, the DNA scanner finds the ants before the spider Tarantulas brought, and, while Blackarachnia tries to manipulate Inferno while Tarantulas goes for the pod--his true intention. Tarantulas didn't reprogram him two different times. After he gets shot to pieces, Tarantulas disappears and Megatron takes Inferno to get him repaired. That's it. Next episode, he's imprinted on Megatron. The Predacons brainwashed him about as much as they brainwashed Blackarachnia. The ant brain did way more work than the Predacon programming.

I don't think you're remembering "Coming of the Fuzors" quite right either. Megatron got his computer to change their activation codes. Quickstrike didn't believe Megatron's claim until after he went "Quickstrike, terrorize" and changed. Meanwhile, Silverbolt immediately believed Megatron coming in after Inferno attacked saying "oopsie! Our mistake!" Megatron a little while later says "yes, excellent, teamwork and cooperation. Those are the Predacon watch words". Quickstrike replies "how about backstabbing and treachery?" He was 100% already like that. Let's not forget that he does betray Megatron at one point. He really wasn't all that brainwashed or indoctrinated if he was perfectly fine betraying Megatron.

Silverbolt, on the other hand, questions Megatron's ruthlessness before ever learning he started out as a Maximal protoform. He fully becomes a Maximal after the Maximals show him kindness.

What makes a character redeemable is choice. Dinobot was redeemable because he made the choice. Blackarachnia was redeemable because she made the choice. Quickstrike was not redeemable because he did not make the choice.

It didn't bother me as a kid when I was watching it on TV in the 90s. I was fully a "root for the good guys" and "like the yellow kid appeal character" type of kid. It depends on the child. The slapstick was a major part of their comedic role, so it's only a short step further.