#bitty: shackle

[oodlally-doodlally]

[ancha-aus]

Bitty Surprise - Chapter 12 - Pov Nightmare

We are back tot he bitties! Lets see what they had planned shall we?

First Chapter: [Here] AO3 link: [Here]

*-------------------------*

Nightmare is very lucky to have his two datemates.

He may not have had a good childhood, Cross and Killer have gone as far as to call it terrible and it is saying something if those two say that.

But now? He is happy. He has those he loves near and no longer needs to fight every moment of every day.

Nightmare opens a socket and is met with the sight of Killer wrapped all around him, sound asleep. Cross is on his other side much the same. Seems like the ex-guard forgot to set his alarm. Which is good, Cross needs to relax more.

Nightmare takes his time to escape the double embrace and chuckles when both his datemates immediately start hugging and holding each other. He watches them for a moment. Both happy, healthy and safe. That is all he ever wanted for them both, and to believe they both decided to share their love with him.

Nightmare is happy with his life.

He slowly leaves his bedroom and goes down the large set of stairs. He will have to make some breakfast for them. Thank them for their support and care the night before, he had needed it.

Some days the fact that Dream will never accept him hits him harder than others. Nightmare supposes he deserves that however. It is the price he paid.

He managed to finally fight back against the abuse and free himself of the shackles that had been Dreamtale. But at the cost of the unconditional love his brother had held for him.

Ah yes, some days it is easier to accept than others.

He gets to the living room and makes his way towards the kitchen only to sigh. The light is on in the kitchen, seems like Killer forgot to shut it off the night before.

It is fine obviously. Magical castle and everything. But it is about the matter of it. Nightmare makes his way over and tries to be quiet as he moves. The bitty housing is all dark and those two are probably still asleep. He gets to the kitchen and opens the door only to pause.

The table in the kitchen is set and he can hear and see things moving on the counter.

Axe grabs one of the smaller knives and handles it easily as he chops vegetables. He pushes it all into an eggy mixture and easily balances on the side as he turns it using a whisk.

Nightmare stands frozen for a moment before quietly closing the door and moving towards a corner of the room and melts partly into the shadows, his own fascination and curiosity getting the better of him.

He is immediately rewarded as he spots Renegade moving some glasses and a large jug filled with orange liquid, orange juice probably?

It is strange to see Renegade move the tray over the floor as easily as he is until Nightmare spots the skateboard under it.

Renegade nods and jumps up unto the chair from ground floor before jumping up unto the table. Nightmare can only stare in shock. He had no idea the bitty could jump that high. Renegade turns around and throws out both hands and soft purple magic fills the air as the glasses slowly make their way upwards.

Axe turns and frowns “Careful. Don’t overdo it.”

Renegade doesn’t looks away from what he is moving “I got this.” and just as he said. All the glasses make their way up perfectly fine and the jugs with orange juice and milk join the table as well. Renegade nods and jumps back down. He lands on the floor with hardly a noise before pushing the skateboard tray combination back towards Axe on the counter.

Renegade looks up at the counter before putting his hands on his hips and Nightmare can feel the annoyance from the other. Axe doesn’t even look away from the mixture he is perfecting “Don’t be stupid. Long way.”

Renegade looks towards the side and Nightmare spots the pulled out drawers that from a makeshift staircase. So that is how they did it.

Renegade then huffs and crouches down before launching himself upwards. He just barely manages to grab the handle before he starts swinging back and forth and with a flip he launches himself up unto the counter.

The momentum made the hood fall back and Renegade stands there with a small flush of the movement and effort before he grins widely at Axe. Axe just looks at him with open disapprovement “Dangerous. Stop that.”

Renegade snorts as he walks over before leaning against the bowl “I am fine. Easy.”

Axe sighs as he shakes his hand before pointing at the pan “Need a hand.”

Renegade nods and flexes his arms out “Always.”

The two bitties afterwards move around each other and together with minimal conversation. Renegade cuts some butter to put in the pan that Axe moves around. Then they switch around to let Axe do most of the physical stuff as Renegade watches the butter melt. At some point Axe carefully spoons in some of the mixture and Renegade holds the pan still for him.

They move in perfect sync and Nightmare watches with slight awe. They moved even more in sync than Cross and Killer fought together and those two have been training excessively to move and think in sync.

Nightmare watches them move and they end up making omelettes. While those cook Renegade keeps watch and Axe pulls out a second bowl to make a new mixture. It takes Nightmare only a moment to realise he is making pancake batter.

As Axe keeps an eye on both the pans Renegade cuts and weights stuff for him and helps him put everything together. The two move and cook as if they have done it many times before and Nightmare wonders how often Renegade and Axe would sneak around the bitty store to get to the breakroom and make stuff themselves. How often they would even do these type of things in his castle.

Nightmare wonders how he can make it obvious that they are free to do it whenever they wish. Maybe Nightmare can get more ingredients. Or even look for slightly smaller and easier to use tools for the two.

Though… Nightmare does wonder why they would make so much food. Nightmare knows the two don��t eat that much.

Axe makes pancakes with slight differences. Some have chocolate chips in them. Some have nicely cut strawberries. Nightmare can see Axe put in some cinnamon into another one. Just all kinds of flavours. All going in neat little piles on the different plates that Renegade moves around per silent instruction.

Before he knows it the whole table is filled with food and the two bitties move the used dishes into the dish washer. As Axe moves some paper towels around to clean up any spills Renegade nudges stuff around in the dish washer to fit it all. He disappears into a few cabinets before returning with the detergent tablets. He puts it in before climbing up the made staircase while also closing the dishwasher with some difficulty.

Axe stops his cleaning to look over the edge of the counter “Bunny? You okay?”

Renegade groans as he pulls on the door “Am fine! Just… heavy!” but he manages to close it mostly and when he is near the top he turns on some program before pulling it shut. Renegade shoots Axe the peace sign as he lays on the counter panting.

Axe is quick to finish and walks over to Renegade to nuzzle him before easily picking him up “Thanks.”

Renegade just nuzzles Axe back “No problem.” He looks at the table “Think they will like it?”

That is when he realises it. Why there is a table set for three people. Why there is enough food to feed so many people.

Axe shrugs as he looks at the table “Think so-” and they make eye contact and Axe freezes “Oh… hello. Euh…” he looks at the table. Then at Renegade. And then back “Surprise?”

Nightmare walks over and smiles at the two, he makes sure to still give the two their space “This is a very big surprise. Thank you. You didn’t need to do any of this but we will all appreciate it a lot.”

Renegade shrugs as he just lets Axe hold him. Axe looks a bit more bashful “We… euh… I know food makes me feel better after a bad day. You had a bad day.”

Nightmare isn’t even sure how to react to that. Luckily he doesn’t need to as that is when Killer and Cross walk in.

Killer hums happily “It smells amazing in here!” He grins.

Cross looks a bit more annoyed as he shoots Nightmare a glance “You don’t have to do this Nightmare! We could have helped.”

Nightmare chuckles “Oh that is where you are wrong. You see I did not make this. You have to thank our tiny friends for that.” Nightmare smiles at the two bitties.

Killer and Cross both blink before looking at Axe and Renegade in unison.

Which, for some reason, causes Renegade to tilts his own skull at them and thinks for a moment before nodding “See it now.” and he pats Axe’s shoulder before being let down.

Cross looks confused “See what?”

Renegade rolls his eye lights as he points between Killer and Cross “Same, yet different.”

Axe nods “Multiverse sounded like a headache. So breakfast.”

Nightmare stares at them in utter confusion which he feels Cross mirror back at him. Then he slowly turns to Killer.

Killer looks sheepish “So… I tried to explain some stuff yesterday?”

They sit down together and have breakfast, Nightmare made sure both bitties join them and Killer explains what he had told the bitties. Which, turns out, to be the whole situation aside from personal details.

Killer nods before speaking “Honestly. Dust and Horror are crazy smart and we got through the explanation very quickly.” And he eats another bite before moaning “Fuck these are so good! How did you deal with the food we made when you can make this?”

Axe shrugs “Intent makes it good.”

Cross frowns “I am sorry but what are you calling them?”

Killer grins “Their own names.” And he looks at them.

Axe blinks before nodding “Oh yeah. My name is Horror. I don’t mind using Axe though.”

Renegade huffs “Dust.” And he continues to eat the omelette using his hands.

Cross blinks and glares at their mate “And how long have you known?”

Killer holds up his hands “Since yesterday! I was going to tell you but then the meeting went badly and well… yeah…” he frowns at Nightmare “Will we need to go back to the doodle sphere again?”

Nightmare sighs and nods “Sadly. I will also need to take some reports to convince them.” again.

Dust huffs “They are dumb.”

Nightmare looks at him with a frown.

Dust doesn’t look bothered as he continues speaking “You are made to do this job. Your purpose. Yet they don’t believe the very person whose job it is to do this. They are idiots.”

Horror nods his own agreement as he happily eats a whole pancake by himself. Technically the plate was shared between the bitties and Nightmare but Nightmare never was a fan of eating. He fills his mug with coffee which he makes to his taste with milk and sugar.

Nightmare chuckles “Maybe they are, sadly I still have to work with and around them to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Dust hums before giving a nod of acceptance.

Breakfast is very nice this way. Nightmare is happy to see Axe and Rene- excuse him. Horror and Dust getting more comfortable and sure about their own places in the castle. See that they are both welcome, that all three of them welcome the two here and want them here.

It is a shame that they have the meeting to attend as Nightmare would much more prefer to spend the day in the living room with his datemates and their two bitties. Nightmare knows it is unlikely that either bitty will want more of them than what they already have. But Nightmare is happy to provide them the space they deserve to be free, happy and together.

They finish getting ready as he spots Horror just skipping through the tv channels.

Killer grins “Going to watch tv?”

Horror gives a non-committing hum as he taps for another channel.

Cross smiles at him “Well, take some time to rest and enjoy your day. When we are back we can maybe all watch a movie together? Or maybe play a few boardgames?”

Horror nods his agreement before saying goodbye with a calm ‘good luck’.

Cross cuts open a portal and they leave through it together.

The doodle sphere is… a lot. It always is. But it is the easiest place for everyone to meet up without upsetting anyone. It is one of the few times in a while that all three of them will be there as normally one of them stays behind in case the bitties needed something. But with both Horror and Dust comfortable and really settled they are fine to all three go again.

Even if that brings their own… complications.

“Cross! It is so good to see you!” Dream runs over with a smile before giving a tight smile to Nightmare “Nightmare. How… How are you?”

Nightmare would have felt threatened by Dream’s interest in Cross. If it was honest interest. Dream is mostly attracted to the happiness Cross sends out. It is much like a small beacon. And Dream feels guilty for; one, not having stepped in to save Cross from his broken universe; Two, for not stopping Ink; and three, for not stepping in earlier to help Cross with XGaster.

All that mixed together and you have Dream who is trying very hard to appease Cross.

Cross absolute disinterest and annoyance at Dream also helps reassure Nightmare that there is nothing there.

Cross gives a tight smile “Hello Dream.”                     

Nightmare nods in greeting “Hello, I have been well. We had a very lovely breakfast before getting here. How have you been?”

Dream’s smile falls and sends him a suspicious look “Oh, you know. Same old same old. Helping people. Going around universes. Rather boring.” A challenge in his eyes. Will you demand more information? Will you use what I told you for your plans.

It is exhausting.

Nightmare nods “Good to hear everything is calm in that case. Has everyone else arrived yet?” and he walks towards the meeting hall.

Dream goes with him but takes a while to answer “Most are here already. We are waiting for a bit more before we start, just in case someone else is planning on arriving and joining.”

Meaning everyone who will be there is already there but Dream hopes that the neutral parties will join the meeting.

Nightmare takes his own seat and sees Cross and Killer both sit by his sides. Cross official seat is actually more towards the middle between Outer and Sci but Cross refuses to sit anywhere but by them. The others had accepted that Cross wasn’t going to change seats.

Nightmare looks around. Blue and Stretch are here already, Nightmare at this point isn’t even surprised to see Stretch again, he has been joining a lot of meetings lately. Seems like these meetings will start including even more monsters. Not that it matters on the large scale of things. This council is honestly more of a joke than anything to Nightmare.

Nightmare knows that this council just exists to appease the other universes and get Dream and Ink into a better light. Many had been furious with Dream and Ink for hiding the disaster with XGaster for as long as they had and that it had taking XGaster almost destroying multiple universes before they were ever even informed of this danger.

But Nightmare knows. The real choice to everything that happens is up to Ink, Error, Dream and himself. Everyone else can give their opinion and reasons but that is it.

Nightmare glances around and sees the Outer and Sci are in their spots. Looking relaxed as ever. It seems like Red managed to make it as he talks with Blue about getting the last updates of the last few meetings. Color is also around and gives a tiny wave into Killer’s direction which he returns with a grin. And as mentioned before, Stretch is here as well by his brother and Ink and Dream seem to look around while Error looks bored about everything and as if he would rather be anywhere but there.

Fresh is near him and Nightmare figures that Fresh had been the one to drag Error out of his anti-void this time.

Two chairs are empty. Seems like neither Geno nor Classic showed up. Which is fair. Both are very stubborn about their position being neutral. Geno as he has direct ties with Reaper and Reaper just took one look at this meetings before he started laughing.

Reaper had looked at Dream and Ink and called both of them idiots for mixing up more mortals with godly business before leaving.

Geno, with his connection with Reaper, has never come to a single meeting. He got the invitation and said that he will not choice a side or mix himself with the decisions that are not his to make. He said he learned his lesson last time and isn’t about to mess with the fragile balance he managed to reach.

Classic had come to a few meetings but everyone would get more frustrated as he would just shrug at destruction. Eventually Comic told them to not bother him unless another XGaster situation happened.

Dream had tried to tell him that these meetings were to stop those and Classic had just looked at him and said that he wasn’t needed for these meetings and that if that was really the goal only four people needed to have this meeting. And then he left.

For obvious reasons, Dream hadn’t send him an invitation again.

It is nice to have others who see what he does as needed and understand the concept. Nightmare would have liked more support but understands why neither can give it or show the favouritism.

Eventually Dream sighs and nods and Ink jumps up to call a start to the meeting. They first go over how many universes have been born and how many have been destroyed since the last meeting. Error ignores the hard glares send his way at the number and calmly reminds people that if he leaves broken and half finished universes around they will start to affect and glitch up other universes. He compares it to having to cut down the diseased trees before those start affecting the healthy ones.

That part of it all is rather quick and straight to the point.

The never ending debate between positivity and negativity takes longer. So much longer.

It is just hard to explain to these monsters that the dark and ‘bad’ emotions are needed for the mental health of a monster and universe. Luckily he took reports with him and proof of what happens when an universe goes into either extreme and Dream reads the files carefully.

Everything seems to be going well. Nightmare thinks they may manage to make some progress today. Then he feels a spike of pure panic from Cross and Nightmare looks over. He can see Dream do the same with a look of worry.

Nightmare speaks first “Cross? What is wrong?”

Cross sits frozen, one of his hands in his pocket as he just seems to stare right ahead “Oh! I am fine! Just. I should go home! I just realised I really, really need to… to… wash this jacket!”

Nightmare frowns and Killer looks over with confusion as well “Crossy?”

Dream blinks before smiling “It is fine! You look great.” He looks to the side afterwards.

Nightmare rolls his eye lights before looking at Cross “What is wrong?”

Cross looks around the gathering before looking at him and giving him a tight smile “I should just… really go clean out my jacket. I just noticed I have dust in my jacket.”

It takes Nightmare a moment before it hits him.

Oh no.

--

“… Wonder how Bunny is doing…”

*----------------*

Next Chapter: [Here]

[moonlight-tmd]

The god-sparkling AU

So, how would Primus and Unicorn react to the fact that Wasp tried to kill Bumblebee a lotta times. Just a bit curious on how that will play out, would really be interesting with Wasptinor or however you spell his name, (p.s. Blitzbee is the OP ship of TFA)

Well tbh, he's pissed. More so when the little squish comes to his planet just to torment his bitty more.

Back on Cybertron's orbit in boot camp Primus knew exactly what was happening with Bee and helped him get thru stuff. That however didn't stop Wasp from butting in. As a way to discourage him from bullying Primus came up with a brilliant idea or merciless karma; whenever Wasp bullied Bee, he would immediately after receive an inconvenience. Like stuff being dropped on him by a mech walking by or an embarrassing fall when they were out doing fieldwork. Even if he took a test beforehand, if he bullied Bee in the meantime he would fail it.

At first it seemed to do the trick but then Wasp started blaming everything on Bee even harder. So the karma punishments became more severe. Primus thought that after Bee went away with his crew and Wasp was stuck in jail it would all fall into the past... but nah, Wasp broke out and set out on a hunt for Bee before Primus could stop him.

When Wasp got to work on Earth, Unicron knew every single thing about him, Bee's been telling him a lot of stuff Primus was too spiteful to share with him. He let him do his thing, watched all his moves and plans and when he finally decided to kidnap Bee to replace him, that's when he struck.

The moment Wasp and Bee switched bodies, Wasp was overwhelmed by a divine sensation in his mind. He couldn't understand anything and the voices were only getting louder with each second. He couldn't handle it as the feeling of being bound down by shackles settled in and left him feeling helpless.

Bee was fine, just watching the show in Wasp's body and wondering whether he looks like this whenever he speaks to one of his parents. It was a short while before Bee grabbed the device and swapped back with Wasp and called backup. Wasp was so mentally worn out he couldn't do anything but to curl up and try to silence the raging memory of what happened barely few minutes ago.

He was taken back to Cybertron and held captive once more, this time however he ended up in one of the mental hospitals. He spend the following years thinking about what happened and reflecting on everything.

Maybe someday he'll come to peace that he's horrible and done a lot of wrong, maybe not. Only Primus will know.

Also hell yeah, we love BlitzBee. But other ships are also valid and should not be hated! Love yall! <3

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

Trick please! Tim and the Joker (not romantic I’m just curious about the dynamic soon after Jason’s death) or Tim and Bruce?

(I’m excited! I missed last year :D)

Welcome! I love your costume! Let me just drop this little Trick ficlet in your pumpkin pail.

Read on below, or on AO3

Broken Little Birds

“Daddy didn’t come for your big brother. He’s not gonna come for you, little nestling.” 

Tim shifted in place, drawing his legs in closer to his torso, making himself smaller. His arms were bound behind his back at an extreme angle that was pulling at his shoulders. Another inch and they might dislocate. One of his ribs was broken, probably two. His vision was swimming and blood was matting his hair into clumps. 

But in his position on the warehouse floor, huddled up and looking pitiful, he was protecting his belly and throat. The swings of the baseball bat landed harsh blows on his already injured body, but mostly to the padding in his uniform that gave him the illusion of muscle, or to his neck where they glanced off the metal ring he wore in his gorget. His cape couldn’t prevent the impacts but it could spread them out. 

He could withstand this until Batman arrived. 

Because he would. 

Tim told himself that. Had been telling himself that for the last hour since he hit his emergency beacon. 

Batman would make it in time. Tim wouldn’t allow himself to be the reason Bruce had to bury another Robin. He knew his mentor wouldn’t be able to cope a second time and he would snap entirely. If he wanted to keep Batman back from the edge of the darkness, he had to survive the night. It was the only reason he was in this uniform. He was Batman’s light. His guiding star. 

He’ll come for you, little brother. He tried to be there for me. He’ll be here for you. 

Wiping blood from his mouth on his knee, Tim nodded. “I know,” 

Joker cackled and twirled the bat over his head then brought it down onto the concrete floor next to Tim’s head. The laughter grew shrill and rasping when the boy flinched away from it. “Ohh, it’s so good you agree with me. It took the itty bitty black and blue Jay a lot longer. You’re much smarter than him, aren’t you?” He pushed the end of the bat under Tim’s chin, forcing him to raise his head to look up at him. “I like brains! They look so pretty splattered on a wall!” 

He’s got like. Three jokes. Oooooh, I’m gonna say a thing, then make it creepy. So original.

Jason sneered at Joker as he drifted from one side of him to the other. 

Tim had been seeing him more and more lately. The visits had terrified him at first, making him think he was cracking under the pressure. But in the time since donning the cape, they had become a comfort. Jason assured him that he was proud to have him take on the mantle, and stood beside him when he was alone. 

With one bare foot, his cape in tatters, and blood on his face, Jason didn’t leave Tim’s side as Joker swung the bat again. He whispered against his ear that Batman would be there for him. That he was strong enough to get through this. 

That they wouldn’t be meeting for real for a long time yet. 

A crash of broken glass. A flash of light and a bang, followed by the burnt sugar scent of one of the smoke bombs. Fists on flesh and broken bones as Batman roared wordlessly and beat Joker until he was squalling for mercy. 

Through the smoke, Jason approached and knelt in front of Tim. He touched his head, and the pain crept back sullenly. We’re not gonna see each other for a while, little brother. Something’s about to happen. But you’ll be okay without me. You’re gonna do great, I know it. 

He faded back as Batman dropped Joker’s shackled body and sprinted to Tim’s side. His hands were shaking as he checked him for spinal injuries before yanking free the bindings around his arms. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, stroking Tim’s hair with deceptively gentle fingers. “I made it. I’m here, Robin. You’re safe, son.” 

Tim could never be entirely sure that he was the one Batman was seeing as he made those soft promises, but it didn’t matter. He was alive. 

Bruce wouldn’t have to bury another broken little bird. 

[exhaustedsasha]

Gods, the desire to ask Dracula absolutely unhinged, filthy questions when I get to my Modern Dracula DR.

Gonna be sitting there with my cute little ankle shackle and be like,

"Hypothetically, not that I WOULD do this, but what if someone walked up to you and asked you to fold them like a lawn chair, unprompted."

I'm sorry, he's an avatar of sin, and my autistic ass HAS QUESTIONS.

Like, he's a vampire, yes, but his appetites aren't only for blood. If you read/watch anything with him involved.... You understand what I mean.

Does he at least appreciate spontaneity? Sure, sure, he's from the medieval ages... but again...AVATAR OF SIN.

I mean, c'mon, you can't TELL ME he wouldn't be at least a LITTLE amused. I'm out here asking the big questions.

I'm down bad, forgive me. Facing him, I probably wouldn't be as ballsy. But if he's gonna kidnap me, the least he could do is answer some questions!

OH AND, IS THE NECK REALLY HIS FAVORITE SPOT? Or is that just the convenient one, like perhaps the person is wearing a thick leather choker....Or a silver choker, he wouldn't want to ingest that. Or a cross necklace, although my theory is that christian symbolism isn't actually what does the repelling. It's the intention and full belief in whatever you're using. But that isn't important. I'm rambling, forgive me.

Like, what if they are wearing a super thick leather choker? And wristbands? But like...they wore little bitty shorts or a skirt and their thighs are exposed....I MEEAAANNN.....

I'M CURIOUS, YKNOW?

[anon-e-miss]

Yakuza/Tattooed Prowl

Life of “crime” gets him sentenced to having bitties for every person he killed

Jazz being his trainer/master/bitty sire

Basically training the roughness out of Prowl to turn him into the blushing momma he should be

Jazz working out all the kinks and getting to his soft center. Prowl reluctant but loves how his body changes for Jazz.

From rock hard shell to soft sweet bitty Ori

God I love the image of his belly and boobs and thighs having been tattooed prior and then stretching with the bitty weight Jazz puts on him

Jazz just loves taking Prowl down where he needs to be and loves how loving Prowl gets with the bitties that he just has to keep sparking him up

The sentence was proliferation.

Having been convicted of twenty-nine deaths, Prowl would was to beget twenty-nine newlings before he would be freed. It was lot. It took time to kindle and time to carry and time to whelp and to wean. It could take a millennia or even longer for him to complete his sentence but it was doable, so long as he was able to kindle. There was no consideration given for infertility.

There was the potential for other trials, depending on how much blame they hoped to put on him for the Company’s activities. It was unlikely that he would get death or spark containment in them at least, since once someone was sentenced to proliferation, it generally stuck. His lawyer would appeal the number. Regardless the result, there was hope he would be free eventually. It was better than Lockdown had gotten.

“Inmate Prowl,” he was called by a guard to come forward. A Polyhexian stood with him. “You have been assigned Jazz for your rehabilitation supervisor.”

A collar was placed around his neck, assigning him to this mech. His shackles were removed and replaced with bracer cuffs. A leash was connected to the collar and without a glyph, his “supervisor” led him off to begin his sentence. Prowl knew supervisors were frequently the ones siring these carryings but they could also arrange for others the breed the convicts on their charge. Prowl wondered which way this Jazz would lean.

[eldritch-spouse]

Okay spoiler for slay the princess if you hadn't watch or play it:

Okay anon ask for Kalmyiar: So the now Queen of wrath under goes a demonic transformation a few days later after defeating and humiliating Kalmyiar( and throwing his fine angry ass in a dungeon chain and shackled and perhaps naked as well). This is what I closely think what she would look like but it up for debate and is my personal opinion

And poor Kalmyiar won't have a pelvis bone after she done breeding him🤤😏

[I don't think I've ever seen anyone misspell his name so beautifully.]

Kalymir would be slightly upset that you turned out so humanoid after all that build up, but the fact that you closely incorporate draconic features absolutely makes up for it. Kalymir fucking loves dragons.

He's going to pull you by the tail and nearly crush you from cuteness aggression. He's going to make you POP. Well, he would if he could.

As is, Kalymir can only snap his jaws at you while you use those powerful thighs to turn his pelvis and hips into ash. It's absolutely the best fuck he's ever had in his life and those chains better be enchanted or he'll rip through the dungeon walls and break you in two instead.

The former demonlord of Wrath turns into nothing but a slobbering beast with hard-on, helpless, vapid, only blind rage and fucklust in that muddled brain. All he needs is one opening, one itty bitty opening to fuck up your perfect set up and set things right.

So do keep coming back to milk the beast trapped in your dungeons, keep teasing him, keep feeding into Kalymir's fury. Surely, nothing could go wrong.

He knows you'll fail. One day you'll get too caught up in your pleasure, one day you'll falter, you'll crumble to him. You're a greenhorn, Kalymir has been ruling this Ring for more time than your soul's probably existed, so it's only a matter of time before you're the one in chains. Except, unlike you, Kalymir is all too happy to keep you chained to his throne.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hi I don’t know if you’ve heard but there’s a bunch of five I’d like to reccomend (not by me) if you haven’t already listed them.

There’s “A walking God” by phantom dreamshade which is a crossover between UT and a video game called one shot.Its really good.

Also another fic called “With what little soul that could” by century berry.

“Welcome to the underground” by Kamanari_333 on ao3.

“It’s just a game.” By Htsans (they also have a Tumblr account.)

“War and Mander” by duckydotducky

“ Vindictive care.” by A_Non_ymuswriter

“An Errors doll” by Erosewisp

“Lay it all on the table.” by luluwrites.

Enjoy!also most of these stories have the “reader” as a character so just as a note.

Anyways have a good day!

Howdy, & thanks for the recommendations! The fics being recommended are…

A Waking God by PhantomDreamshade (Teen And Up, Complete)

Consequences. Had you known there would be consequences, you wouldn't have done it. How were you supposed to know there would be consequences? You were just an oblivious god in a world full of oblivious gods, after all. You hadn't meant to ruin Undertale, ruin all the lives of your friends. Yet there you sat in front of your computer for countless hours, trying - and failing - to fix your mistake. It was a little game called OneShot that made you realize just what you were capable of, and now Niko might just be the only shot you have at saving Undertale. You've spent years planning and coding, leading up to this moment. And now, it's finally time.

With a Little Soul that Could by century_berry (Teen And Up, Complete)

You are stuck in an endless white. You don’t remember how you got there. You barely remember much about yourself anymore. You only remember your name. You are - {ERROR, ERROR, ERROR} You are connected? Good. Greetings. I am the Narrator. You are about to embark on a wonderful journey that spans across timelines. You will make new friends and share many bad laughs. All of it will be according to the plans and whims of the author. And you will have no choice. I come with an offer. I will help you break free from your shackles. My only request is that you help me deliver something once you reach the so-called end of your journey. So, do you accept my offer? Yes? Wonderful. I promise, partner, you won’t be alone. How could you ever be when you are - {VIRUS DETECTED. VIRUS DELETED.} {REBOOTING…} You are Frisk. And you are alone. Act 1 (The Save Screen): 1-5 Act 2 (Seven Souls): 6-13 Act 3 (The Vessel): 14-18 Act 4 (Bad Apples): 19-25 Act 5 (Deity): 26-31 Act 6 (Balance): 32-37 Act 7 (_____tale): 38-40

Welcome To The Underground by Kamari333 (Teen And Up, Complete)

You, a lazy, jobless young adult who was still bumming in their parent's house, woke up in a bed of golden flowers. That scenario was oddly familiar to you, and the reason for that became apparent when one of those flowers greeted you with an overly enthusiastic "Howdy!" Next thing you know, you see your SOUL, and you are made painfully aware that you are destined to die, because it wasn't red. A generic Reader-insert fandom-metta Undertale fanfiction piece. #NaNoWriMo2017

It's Just A Game. (Under Construction) by Htsan (Teen And Up, Complete)

* Sans did something you did not like.. at all.  It's just a game.. YOU have control of this world. You can CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING. * You are determined.> let it play out.   RESET. There are 8 different endings, good luck finding them!

War and Mander by duckydotducky (Teen And Up, Complete)

After finding some bitties on the side of the road, you are never the same. It takes a lot of healing but maybe it is all worth it.

Vindictive Care by A_Non_ymousWriter (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

There's two new skeletons in the house. Unfortunately not much of a surprise there, the machine kept malfunctioning and kept bringing in alternate versions of Sans and Papyruses into their universe. They were up to SIXTEEN SKELETONS, now eighteen with the two's newest arrival. Except... there was something off about the new skeletons. 'Visor' and 'Chine'. Sweet mercy above, these two brothers seemed to hate each other. They kept swearing at each other, calling each other names- Chine actually almost stabbed Visor! On purpose! What a toxic relationship! Even more so than Black and Mutt! Or is it? Underneath their hateful facade, they do care for each other. In another very weird but unhealthy way... That's it, everyone was going to try and help these two, as well find out more about what happened to them in the past, why they were what they were and maybe find a little love along the way. You and your brother never asked to become the alternate universe Sans and Papyrus you both created. But by fuck was it difficult to keep things together like this, now the AU Sans and Papyruses were trying to get close. Stars above have mercy on their SOULs.

An Error's Doll by EroseWisp (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

You didn’t have a bucket list or anything, but you wished you could’ve at least read a few more fanfics or done literally anything fun before dying. Oh well, at least you didn’t have to socialize- Wait. Since when did dying mean becoming a doll in an Undertale multiverse? How did this happen?? This was inspired by a ton of reborn and reincarnated as Undertale characters fanfics and some other awesome stories! The main inspiration was ‘Little Dream Doll’ by KassyxTheDumbFox on Wattpad. Beware, this story is fan fiction and is not canon, and will include ooc characters, if you don’t like that please read something else. This is my first story so there’s no guarantee I will update regularly if at all, this is mostly self-indulgent. Just learned how to do this, so if anyone's curious and wants to see the story on Wattpad, here's a link! An Error's Doll on Wattpad!

Lay It All on the Table by lulu-writes (Teen And Up, Complete)

As hilarious as Papyrus had said it would be, you're starting to realize that Sans might have been hitting on you just as much as you'd been hitting on him. All under the guise of friendship. Feeding each other food? Holding each other's hands? Embracing tenderly? That's... That's all platonic, right? You're definitely not flirting.

[ryin-silverfish]

LMK Fanfic: The Wild Son

AO3 Mirror

Nezha-centric one-shot. Or, "how the Third Lotus Prince learns to stop worrying and enjoy the exploration of death."

CW for suicide and extensive discussions of it. Similar to my previous story, this is very FSYY-inspired, which is shorthand for "pretty fucked-up".

Y'know, with the novel's version of Nezha's suicide being the most graphic and all.

...

The Devaraja of the North has a wild son, who bows not to his father, only the Buddha. The Buddha knows of his stubborn unreason, and sets upon his father's left hand, a pagoda.

——Su Zhe, "Nezha"

Over the years, he had really come to loathe That Look. 

You know, when these brats (technically, all mortals are kids to him) learned of his suicide and just gaped at him in wide-eyed horror. Usually followed by an "I'm so sorry" or "It's not your fault" or the slightly less grating "Man, your father sucks."

Duh, Dragonhorse Girl. Duh. But anyone who talked shit about Li Jing was in his good books, and he could at least appreciate Mei's straightforward nature.

Still, whatever prior impressions he left, he knew he was now seven years old and hurting again in their eyes, and would never stop being so. 

And it drove him nuts, because 1) it didn't even hurt all that much, and 2) why is offing yourself suddenly such a big deal? Apart from some ol' Confucian bores' rants about unfilial conduct, no participants in the War of Investiture had ever batted an eye at his death and resurrection; the problem was with what he did immediately afterward.

That said, death in the War of Investiture wasn't final, logical, or that big a deal either, until it suddenly was. 

...

Unlike killing, death didn't get less confusing even after you've kicked the bucket once. Nor was spending your time as a spooky ghost and getting your godhood rudely interrupted helpful, when it came to understanding the boundary between gods and ghosts, and how some people could come back but not the others.

Well, according to The Patricidal 7-years-old's Guide to Death and Deification:

People die when they get killed.

At which point they turn into a ghost, and float around going "Woe is meeeeee!" for a while before moving on to their next lives.

Unless they don't want to move on. In that case, they just haunt the living out of spite, and to get free stuff.

But wait! If enough people treat the ghost like a god and give them offerings, they'll become one and...dunno, make a new body outta faith or something. 

If someone's name is on The List, it's totally okay to kill them because they'll become gods after death.

Wait, isn't that dragon prince's name on The List too? Then why is his dad so angry when he killed him?

And sometimes, a Daoist master just pops a pill into the recently dead guy's mouth and they are alive again.

It took him a surprisingly long time to realize that The List was not all it's cracked up to be, and was basically the Poor Man's Godhood. Or that knowing someone would come back in the end didn't make their absence hurt any less. Or that they could come back, but would remain forever out of reach, shackled by the duties of godhood and the chains of causes and consequences. 

And even when a quick resurrection was possible, every death scarred the soul, making it fray and tear at the seams. Seven was the maximum. After dying and coming back seven times like poor Senior Uncle Jiang Ziya, not even The List could take your soul without it exploding into a billion little ghostfires that had more in common with ambience Qi than any living spirits.

He wondered if his inability to understand this fuss around offing yourself had something to do with a scar, too. 

But which one? Was it the first and most gruesome one, where returning your flesh and blood also meant ripping out the itty bitty pieces of souls that were embedded in them, clinging to your father and mother like muscle membranes on a bone? Was it the one that looked like an ugly crack on a gilded statue, widening, spreading, until it shattered altogether? Was it not a single scar, but a bunch of little holes in his essence, like wormbites on a leaf, or a pool of oozing sludge left by the Blood-melting Knife?

Assuming he still had a soul in the first place, of course. Maybe instead of a soul, there's only one huge patch of scar tissue where his three souls and seven spirits used to be, red and fibrous and angry. 

Yeah, try pulling *that* out of his body with a spell, suckers.

...

A popular god gains new domains like new year gifts. Namely, you seldom receive the ones you want, are stuck with the ones you were tired of, and have no idea where that pile over there even came from.

Sun Wukong shared a domain with him as the protector of youth, a fact he was strangely okay with. He took the silly and mischievous ones, while Nezha dealt with the moody, rebellious ones. An amicable arrangement, as far as dispute between overlapping domains went; were they ever to switch places, the result would be a disaster.

This, however, was when a joint operation would be really helpful.

Alas, he had no such luck. So here he was, sitting in the Megapolis Children's Hospital's inpatient ward, next to a girl with owl-like eyes and tubes inside her nose, who asked him "Being dead, what does that even mean?"

...

Nothing, 'cause it's something that happens to other people. That was how he would have answered this question, back when he was still a real kid, and not an 18-foot-tall immortal plant construct who could choose to look like a kid.

He did wish people would recognize him as something other than "god of youth", though. Or realize his older forms existed too. Somehow, when Jinzha's master appeared as a little boy with five hair buns, people didn't stop worshipping Old Dude Wenshu or Graceful Bodhisattva Wenshu, but one too many adaptations later, Nezha was just THE Kid God, and not also the Three-headed Six-armed War God of Setting Things On Fire. 

Bah.

But this was about Nezha the human (was he ever human, though, with the whole Spirit Pearl thing?) and Nezha the kid, not Nezha, Marshal of the Central Altar. Who didn't quite realize death was real, as in, a thing you should try to avoid for both yourself and others, and had been told that it was his destiny to dish out death to people in some epic upcoming war.

Master Taiyi, bless the old immortal, was a perfect case of someone who clearly cared so much, yet still managed to fuck up so badly.

For all his grudges against Jinzha's master (less about the whipping, and more about his damn cat killing the Jade Emperor), Wenshu made some good points: You did not tell a kid that you would protect him from all the consequences of his actions, then set him loose and expect him to not wreak havoc on unintended targets.

...

"What do you mean?"

He'd admit, this was not his finest hour. You weren't supposed to answer a question with a question, at least not in a way that didn't make you seem all mysterious and wise.

"I..." She trailed off. "I mean, I feel dead people all the time. Brushing past me, being all chilly and stuff. Since I'm gonna be joining you guys soon, I just wanna know...how it's like." The corner of her mouth twitched; either a grimace, or an attempt at smiling. "And you feel nicer than the others. Warmer, too."

He was no god of medicine, no matter how much he wished he could be one right now. Yet he could see the flames of her three souls, dimming with every passing second, as well as the blocks in her Qi flow, with one right behind her eyelids. Her sight was already gone, and in a week, these flames would go out entirely.

Sickness, he could heal, but not a passing ordained by the Book of Life and Death. As tempting as it was to pull a Sun Wukong, if he was to remove the name of one person, what was stopping him from removing another? And another? Before he knew, he'd be striking the name of every good person off it, and only chaos could result from that.

His gaze shifted to a small charm, fastened onto the bedframes with red strings. Made of peachwood, glowing gently in his vision, accompanied by the wisps of a prayer. Please watch over her, and take away her pain. Please don't let her face this alone.

Slowly, he extended a hand towards her, a tiny spark of pink flame dancing on his fingertip. If there were still ghosts in this room that hadn't fled when he first came in, they were definitely gone by now, as the darkness dispered in a surge of Yang-aligned Qi. 

"...Wow." She visibly relaxed, with a sigh. "Thanks." 

"No problem."

"Are you...also a kid, when you...you know? You sound like one."

"Yeah. But I've been dead for a long time. Long before this hospital was built." He let out a dry laugh. "I guess you could say I'm a professional at this whole 'death' thing."

"Huh. I thought after a while, people just...move on."

"They do, if they aren't trying to avoid the ghost cops. The Heibai Wuchang," he said. "Nowadays, they dress like cops too, but they show up for everyone, to take them to the Underworld. Not just bad ghosts that need to be arrested."

"What's the Underworld like?"

"Dunno. Never been down there." This was partially true. At the time of his death, the Underworld bureaucracy did not exist yet. Most of his knowledge of its workings came from chatting with Huang Tianhua, whose father was deified as the King of Mt.Tai, former head of the Ten Kings. "But you seem like a good egg, so they would send you straight to the Naihe Bridge, and onto your next life."

"That's...good to hear," she said. "I wanna know more about the, uh, ghost part, though. Does it stop hurting when you die? I've been...hurting for so long, I'm starting to forget what it's like, before...this."

"Yeah, the pain stops," he answered, "but so does everything else. You just stop feeling things altogether. Smell, touch, warm and cold and all that jazz." He paused. "Being a ghost is very, very boring."  

"And you still don't wanna go with the ghost cops?"

"Well, I killed myself, and that gets you stuck in the City of Wrongful Death." He blurted out, before realizing that this was the worse moment to be honest, and braced himself for the awkwardness to come. 

"Sounds like an awful place." 

"Pretty much. They said it was just full of depressed ghosts, being depressing together," he chuckled. "Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll pass."

"Glad I didn't...go through with it, then." She said, then quietly added, "I nearly did, when the pain got too much, and the cost just kept rising."    

Well, that wasn't quite what he expected. But he wasn't too surprised, either.

...

They thought his suicide was an act of despair. It was insulting, honestly. Both to the strength of his will and spite, and his unconventional problem solving skills.

See, when people said that your body and skin and hair were given to you by your parents, the implicit message was So you can't do anything to them, and They own you, every bit of you, and above all, Obey. 

You weren't supposed to give them back, not so flippantly. Yet it was the simplest, most obvious solution, in the same way beating up the dragon king who tried to sue you was. (Guess he really was Taiyi's student.)

At the heat of the moment, it was quite thrilling. Almost liberating. Like a snake shedding its skin, a baby bird breaking out of its eggshells. As the raging storm and roaring tides drowned out Fate and Destiny's ever-tolling bells, for a second, he really felt like this was the end. 

No more Spirit Pearl, no more unruly child, woe of his mother, doom of his lineage. No more Li Jing, no more questionable advices from Taiyi, no stupid dragon kings, and none of that Vanguard of the Zhou Army crap. Just a kid sacrificing himself, laughing and laughing until he chocked on his own blood. 

Just Nezha.

But obviously, things didn't end here. Death rarely was the true end, nor did it tie things up neatly, like cutting through a knot with a sword. It was more akin to what you got when you broke a lotus root in half, full of sticky, near-invisible threads, stretching on and on between the scattered pieces.

...

Believe it or not, this wasn't the first time he had to deal with suicide, kids, or suicidal kids. Especially after gaining one of his more recent domains. He is the protector of all young people, regardless of who they fancy or whether their bodies match their souls, it was just that those who didn't fit the common denominator tended to get a lot of shit for existing. 

(As annoying as the "Third Princess" nickname was, he had no problem with people finding strength and comfort in his legends, in severing ties, defying norms, and blossoming inside a changed body. After all, that was what gods were; a mirror that reflected the worshippers' beliefs and needs back at them.)

A few decades ago, he was summoned by a teen, standing on the bank of a river, holding a stick of incense. Dunno where, just that it was a Hokkien-speaking area and one of his temples was nearby. 

They gave him a hopeful look when he showed up, emerging out of the water like an actual lotus plant, yet remaining miraculously dry. As hopeful as someone in their circumstance could manage, at least.

"Is it okay if I ask you to curse my parents?" 

"If that's what you want, you are praying to the wrong god," he replied. "And the kind of gods who accept such requests will make you pay a price you are never ready for."

"Damn. Guess I'll just have to come back and haunt them myself, then." 

They knelt down to stick the incense into the mud, then started wading their way into the shallows. He sighed, and they were promptly dragged back by his red sash, struggling furiously.

"Let go of me!" They screamed, muddy water splashing beneath their sneakers. "W-Why? I don't get it! Why are YOU stopping me? You, of all gods! The child who hacked himself to pieces, and tried to kill his asshole dad——"

"And got a burning pagoda dropped on him for his troubles." He said flatly. "Need I remind you that it all took place a thousand years ago, and I'm no longer out for his blood?"

"Oh, so they'd beaten it out of you! Good for you, I guess." They snapped. "But not me. Why would you even care if a freak like me died or not?"

"gin-na, you just admit you are gonna become a vengeful spirit. And I literally have 'subduing demons and harmful spirits' in my job description. So maybe, maybe, I'm gonna have a problem with that?"

"Even if they totally have it coming?" They retorted. The first two buttons of their collars had come loose in the struggle, exposing the ugly patch of bruised purple around their neck, as well as implications of worse things. "I thought gods were all for karmic justice."

"Especially if they have it coming," he said. "Which is why I'm stopping you. It's not gonna work."

"What does that even mean?"

"Ugh. Look. Suppose I let you drown, without alerting any ghostly officials. Suppose that you come back, haunt your parents night and day, and don't get yourself exorcised. Suppose that you inflict on them the same torment you were subjected to, and drive them to madness or some other gruesome ends." He said. "Then what? What are you gonna do afterwards?"

"I'll just...move on, I guess."

"To do that, you 'll have to cross the Naihe Bridge. And the Underworld officials won't let you off the hook that easily, not after you've accumulated all this negative karma by haunting the living." He shook his head. "I heard they take 'Hell is other people' quite literally, and punish people who hated each other by throwing both parties into the same Minor Hell, giving them a pile of lethal weapons, and resurrecting whichever side that gets killed. Over and over again." 

He leaned closer. "Is that what you really want? Getting stuck in the same pit with your parents for centuries to come? Mind you, even if you get tired of the violence, you are not allowed to quit until the Underworld officials let you."

Came to think of it, that was the War of the Investiture in a nutshell. No one was allowed to quit, not even in death.

"...No," they mumbled, after a long silence. "But it's still tempting. At least I'll get to do something to them."

"Well, here's a thing you can do to them."

"What?"

"Live."

"That's it? Seriously?" They stared at him in disbelief. "Because I own it to them? Because my very existence is a mistake or something?"

"No. Because you own it to yourself," he said, "and it is only a mistake if you believe so, and if they think you are a mistake, there's no better way to prove them wrong and rub it in their faces than keep existing. Think of it like this——you ain't gonna help them get rid of you, are you?" 

"Well, if you put it that way..." they paused. "But I'll still be depriving them of their favorite punching bag, at least."

"Is that what you think you are?"

"It's what I have been for the past few years."

"Yeah, sorry, but hell no. You can be way, way more than that." He grinned. "Why be a punching bag, when you can be their worst nightmare instead?"

"I thought you don't want me to haunt my parents?"

"Oh, no. You are gonna drive them nuts in a whole different manner: by growing into a successful, well-adjusted adult they no longer have any power over," his grin widened, "And watch them age into bitter, miserable old farts who'll die alone and forgotten, knowing that the moment they die, they'll be dragged straight into one of the Hells in chains, suffer for untold eons, and probably spend their next life as ants."

"That is...satisfying, not gonna lie." They bit into their lips. "But until then, I'll still be stuck with them. Thanks for the reassurance, though."

"Does that mean if I let go of you now, you aren't gonna dash into the river?" 

Upon receiving a nod, he whistled, and his sash loosened around the teen, floating back onto his shoulders. They staggered back; he prepared himself, watching out for tensed muscles and all the little tells of someone who was going to make a run for it. Thankfully, he spotted none, as they retreaded their steps back onto dry land, one muddy footprint at a time.

He wasn't entirely convinced that they wouldn't change their mind later, but it was a good start.  And he had just the idea to make it an even better start. 

His fingers started twisting in a mudra, weaving together threads of pink and golden light into the shape of his signature seal. No, he definitely didn't enjoy the kid's quiet gasp of wonder, as a lotus-patterned token fell out of thin air and right into his hands. It wasn't like he was a show-off or anything, unlike that ape.

"Here. Take this. Go to—" He paused and cursed himself. Dammit, he kept forgetting that mortals couldn't just sense temples and their giant beacons of faith. "Do you know there's a temple over there?" He pointed east, "Like, in that direction?"

"You mean Taizi Gong? Yeah." They nodded. "Grandma used to take me there."

"If you ever need a meal, or a place to stay the night, just show this token to the staff, and they'll help you out." He narrowed his eyes, and said the next sentence very slowly. "Also, if your life is ever in serious danger, like, no-time-to-call-the-cops danger, just hold it tight, say my name, and point it at whatever is threatening you. Do. Not. Use. It. Lightly. Understood?"

He intentionally let out a bit of his killer aura, as he uttered the last few words. Not hard to muster, considering the circumstances that first drove him to develop this token system. It was always awful when he was too late in his interventions, but he swore to the Three Pure Ones, if anyone ever triggered the spell with a prank call, when he arrived at the scene, they'd wish they got caught in the explosions instead.

They paled and nodded in quick succession, then started to turn away. Before remembering something, and coming to a halt mid-step.

"I...I don't even know how to thank you." They shook their head. "If it was too early for that. If 'Thanks' is even enough. But if you are right and I do find my way out of this mess, I'm building you a temple, Third Prince."

...

A temple. Build me a temple, mother. Build me a temple, mother, for I'm cold without a body, hungry without a stomach. He remembered himself crying out, once. Build me a temple so I can be back at your side again, isn't that what you want? What you said you would give up everything for, as you picked up my pieces and buried them in a shallow grave?

Build me a temple, or you'll never know peace again. 

The most frustrating part wasn't how much he sounded like the sorts of ghosts he'd beat up later, a lot, as Marshal of the Central Altar. It was the lack of context. As in, there was no memory of the before and after. Just words echoing in a vaccum, with neither pain nor sensations attached.

It was the same whenever he helped a mortal. It was the feeling he got when, twenty years later, he stood in front of a temple gate, watching the person in a suit cut the red ribbons during its opening ceremony, and thought, I've done something like this before, long ago, inside my first temple.

But I can't remember what it was, or for whom.

He knew that was how ghosts became gods. Three souls attracted by the fragrance of incense, seven spirits nourished by the ashes of burnt offerings. Ten shades of a person, molded back together into something more than the sum of its parts, by countless mud-stained, callused hands, clasped together in prayer.

He'd watched it happen before, on the coasts of Fujian. Little Lin Mo Niang, disappearing beneath the waves, only to rise out of the tides later as Mazu, guiding fisherfolks and sailors to shore with her gentle red light, just like she did in life.

Or maybe he had more in common with Guan Yu. The fugitive, the warrior with the might of a thousand man, the loyal companion. Who, despite his promise in the peach garden, did not die on the same day as his sworn brothers. Specifically, how his vengeance and fury used to hang over Jingzhou like a plague, how his name was once whispered in fear, before it became the synonym of loyalty, brotherhood and martial virtue.

Perhaps ghosts became gods when mortals poured pieces of themselves into them, filling up the holes in their psyche. Making them more human than they ever were, and could be.

Thanks to Li Jing's destruction of his idol, he'd never know. 

That——that was what sent him onto his roaring rampage of revenge, right after reviving in his lotus body. After everything else had been bled dry, rage was all he had. Like thick black tar, sticking to the bottom of a broken jar.

...

"What stopped you?" He asked, without really knowing why.

"My legs. Literally. They don't work anymore. And I'm...gonna die anyways, it's not really worth the effort..." Her breath hitched in her throat, yet she still managed to squeeze out the last few words, "Then my mom came back."

"I...I'm still a little mad that she left in the first place, like, long before this. But she had a nice singing voice, when she wasn't crying, and," she sighed, "didn't start arguing with dad again. She said I had a new little brother, and showed me the photos...and I was just like, hey, he looks like a raisin, and they laughed, and I haven't heard either of them laugh in a long, long time..."

She was starting to look dazed, stuck in that liminal space between dream and awakeness.

"And I, I wouldn't mind hurting a lil' longer, if it means I get to have more moments like that." 

What if you don't? A part of him wanted to ask. What if those moments are no more than baits on a straight hook, carrots on a stick, making it so that you are willing to hurt longer and longer until it's not even fleeting happiness you seek, just the mere promise of release?

But that was the bitterest, crueler part, and it could fuck right off.

"I'm sure they are glad to have you, too." In the end, that was all he managed to say, in a whisper she might or might not have heard, and only got a small yawn in return.

"Well, you sound like you're about to doze off. So I won't keep you up any longer," he said. "Any last questions, before I go?"

"What do you...look like?"

"Huh?"

"When I die, I'll get to...see things again, right?" She asked. "And you can't be the only kid here. Just...wanna...go over and say hello, before the ghost cops come." 

"Oh, I'm very recognizable. You don't see a lot of folks with twin hair buns nowadays." He laughed softly. "And I promise you, when the time comes, I'll be right here, inside this very room."

"Thanks," she nodded. "G-G'night, ghost friend."

"Farewell, and sleep tight."

...

When did you stop being fun? Sun Wukong asked him, once.

When you started being nothing but jokes, he wanted to scream back. When you shut yourself in your cave for five hundred years to take a depression nap, while I drain just as much power answering the prayers of mortals as I get from their worship, and my true body is stuck guarding the fire that burn away worlds. When Yang Jian had stopped giving a crap about everything that happened outside of his precious Sichuan, me included.

When I grow the fuck up, monkey. We all do, sooner or later, yet you never seem to.

But then he remembered the look on Sun Wukong's face, as the mountain came down. A look he had seen on the faces of so many souls, as they were called up the Terrace of the Investiture. 

It was Ao Guang clutching onto his son's tendons with trembling, scaly hands. It was his mother kneeling in the dirt, begging for his life and unlife. It was him handing Huang Tianhua's head back to Huang Feihu. The eldest of Zhao Gongming's three sisters, muttering a quiet "Sorry, brother" before she was swept away by Lao Tzu's scroll. Guang Chengzi looking Yin Jiao in the eyes, as they dragged his plow up the hill. 

It was a monk postponing his Buddhahood in favor of the path of the Bodhisattva, swearing a vow that, for every life, he should learn the meaning of compassion anew, and teach it to others.

A pig who was once a marshal, too weighed down by his desires to attain enlightenment, who nonetheless went on to live a good life, full of good food and few regrets.

A soldier made into a monster after one simple mistake, who decided he was better than that, and, with quiet determination, followed his brother and master into samsara as their guardian.

It was a white dragon, destined to set things aflame and be consumed by flames, yet burning brightly all the same, a goofy grin on his face.

So he just gritted his teeth and kept on fighting. It was what he was made for, what he always did.

And it wasn't enough. 

...

But when was anything ever enough? When did Fate or Destiny ever pat anyone on the head, and tell them they did a good job, and they'd be free of suffering, just like that?

When were there ever easy answers, for mortals and gods alike?

Azure Lion thought there would be one, that the right person on the throne could magically make it all better, and he shattered trying to make himself into that person.

One step at a time. One answer at a time. A promise kept, a visit made. That was how you do it. 

After all, the great lump of molten colors Nüwa used to seal the cracks in the sky——they were but little pebbles too, once upon a time.

...

"Told you I'll be here." That was the first thing he said, as he unsummoned his wheels and sat down in midair, cross-legged.

"Oh. Well. I," The translucent girl let out a small laugh. She tried to scratch her head, before realizing she couldn't anymore. "I certainly wasn't imagining this, when you said 'twin hair buns'." 

"Do you have reasons to, though?" He asked. "People usually don't see the Third Lotus Prince on their deathbeds."

"No. But it's pretty obvious in hindsight, with the warmth and all these little hints." She shook her head. "Dangit. Now I just feel kinda dumb. Still, it's good to see you again, sir...Third Prince?"

"Nezha would do. I suppose I make much better company than the ghost cops, right?"

Behind the hospital screen, the man wearing a tall black hat grumbled something about people not appreciating their jobs, before being cut off by a "Ha! Checkmate, Lao Fan!"

"Yeah. It's a little distracting when you were dying, and two guys were just having a chess game five feet away," she said. "The cheerful one is a better player, though."

"Only because you keep giving him tips!" The man snarked back. "How does it feel like to cheat via a dying kid, Xiao Xie? I bet you feel real proud of yourself right now."

"How does it feel like to lose to a dying kid?" His colleague laughed, sticking his tongue out way further than any living humans were capable of, or comfortable with. "She gave you tips too, you just aren't good enough to use them well. And she's good. Real good. This one thinks she may just be a chess champion in her next life!"

"Thank you, Mister Xie. I learned it from my grandpa."

It was such a blessing that these two didn't exist yet, at the time of his death. As grim and thankless as their duties were, Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu were also the most annoying pair of ghosts he ever met, the former taking nothing seriously and the latter taking everything way too seriously.

"Hey. You two, shut up and show some respect." He snapped, before turning to the girl. "I'm sorry you have to endure their presence."

"That's right, Xiao Xie! Even the Third Lotus Prince tires of you and your constant jesting!"

"This one thinks if we pay our proper respect to everyone that has ever died, we'll have no time to actually do our job." Xie chuckled. "Besides, he is clearly talking about the one who is constantly yelling, and incapable of losing gracefully. But alright, this one shall do as you command."

"...Let's go talk somewhere else." He sighed. "These two clowns are giving me a headache."

She giggled a little, as the screen parted with a wave of his hand, revealing the two psychopomps sitting on the nearby bed. "Their hats do look like clown hats."

"The clowns can hear you, you know?" Fan snarked, before picking up his baton and making a gesture in their direction. "Whatever. Begone. And remember our deal: you have four hours. Not a second more, not a second less. Understood?"

"Did you just admit to being a clown too?" Xie grinned. "This one does think a red nose will suit you well."

"Sometimes I seriously wonder why I ever agreed to become your sworn brother, Xiao Xie."

He led the girl out of the room, just as medical personnels started coming in, carefully concealing his presence from the mortals' eyes. The girl made a face when her hand passed through the doorframe, but quickly recovered.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you like." He replied. "Your home, your old school, that really cool arcade or amusement park you never get a chance to visit...and you don't have to choose one. Distance is not a factor at all," with a blaze of pink fire, his wheels were back under his boots again, "when I'm the god of speedy drivers. So take your time."

"Hmmm. I think," she said, after a long silence, "I wanna go see my mom, and my little brother first. Is that okay?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Let's be on our way, then." 

"Alright. Leeeego!"

[sir-subpar]

Striker redesign/reimagine!

Might tweak a few things in the future, but here he is!

I'll talk about him under the cut, because I have some things to say

Okay! So: Striker

Let me start by saying that I don't really hate his design as is. I think he looks fine. But! As somebody from the southwest, I wanted to add a little extra southwestern style influence on him. And I also wanted him to look more like a rattler.

Now if some of you might be a little confused by the blue, I do have an explanation for it. Admittedly this is more personal than logical, but here's a cool little factoid about my nick of the woods.

As I've mentioned multiple times, I'm from the southwest, and we have a local very old Superstition around here, the Superstition goes that West is the direction of evil. It's where the sun is swallowed and darkness rises. What time were evil spirits would rise and torment the living. But it was said if you painted your window sills or doorways blue, you would be safe. Blue was the color of safety and protection.

So I kind of gave Striker little blue accents, as a reference to that color of safety. I like the idea that it's a comfort color for him.

Anyway! Aside from my barely filtered Self Indulgence, here are my thoughts;

I don't like his fingerless gloves, 90% of the characters seem to have fingerless gloves, literally everybody in the main cast has fingerless gloves or something similar. I like fingerless gloves, but I'm sick of it being everywhere in this show

As mentioned before I wanted to make him look more snake-like, so I gave him a rattler Style tell, larger fangs, more orange toned, a different horn Style just a match a little bit better. And eyeball imagery on his clothing. Since rattlesnakes sometimes look like they have eyeball patterns

Gave him scars, I was just like with millie, I feel like he's got into a lot of fights, and since they're both from wrath they should both have some Battle Scars.

Speaking of Millie, I had this idea for a rewrite, let me know what you think. What if Millie was actually considered the weakest in her family growing up? Which has caused her to be very self-conscious about her strength and constantly want to get stronger. All of this leading to her currently being extremely competitive to the point where it can be detrimental. And what if, when she wasn't able to actually help around the farm, the family had Striker come over and help?

Striker could be a long time family friend she grows up with, but also goes on to resent because she feels he is, in a sense, replacing her.

So the Harvest Moon episode would be more about her feeling an internal rivalry with him rather than a cliched masculinity episode with Moxxie

Maybe he goes easy on her because he cares about her, and she notices, leading her to feel like he sees her as weaker, which is very insulting to her Pride.

This could be why she eventually joins IMP, maybe assassinating humans makes her feel strong.

Those are my thoughts with Millie and Striker. Now, to explore another Dynamic that I'm sure you guys have been eager to hear my thoughts about...

Striker's dynamic with Blitzo

It probably doesn't surprise any of you, but I thoroughly believe that they had far more chemistry in this one episode, then Blitzo and Stolas do throughout the rest of the show

Clearly Blitzo likes him, and at the very least, Striker does have some respect for him upon their first meeting

The way he talks to Blitzo, it plays into what Blitzo actually *wants*. He offers a ticket out. A way to success without being shackled to Stolas

Striker calls Blitzo: impressive, sir, above sucking on a pompous Goetia.

Stolas, on the other hand: my impish little plaything, adorable, itty bitty imp, constantly baby talks him, "Blitzy" which was established Blitzo hates.

I will get to Stolas eventually, I have some thoughts I'll Explore More with him. In due time.

Would I make Blitzo and Striker a couple in my Reimagined Helluva? I don't know, because I don't really think it's necessary. I do think however that Striker eventually could become one of Blitzo's friends.

I have a very specific scene in my head:

____

Blitzo's uncertain about Striker's offer, he doesn't know if he should actually trust him, if he should uproot his whole business for the stranger just because he's saying the right things, or if he should just do what he's doing now and see if he can get success.

They fight, for a bit, Striker keeps talking throughout their tussle, tempting Blitzo to join him on killing Stolas.

They are equally matched, both holding the blessing tipped rifle, in a tense game of tug o' war.

Their rumble goes on for just long enough that now, Striker looks out the window, to see his opportunity to kill Stolas while he was on stage has passed.

Striker sighs, dissapointed as Stolas is once again surrounded by guards blocking his clear shot.

He releases his rifle, causing Blitzo to stumble back a bit.

He composes himself, straightening his clothes and dusting himself off.

"Tell you what Blitz, I'll give you some time to think on it."

Striker takes Blitzo's hand in his own for a moment, his tone of voice more welcoming than before.

He pulls away, revealing je placed a Buisness card with his phone number in Blitzo's palm.

"And when you decide what you want, you give me a call."

____

So! Those are my thoughts!

If I were in charge of the show, I would let Striker's business card sit on Blitzo's desk, or in his wallet, showing the audience that Striker is still in the back of his mind, even if Striker doesn't make a direct appearance in a few episodes.

I had a lot of fun with Striker, as you all can probably tell, he was one of my favorites before season 2 happened.

[brandwhorestarscream]

I can see soundwave knowing this (even if he doesn't completely approve)

But it would be interesting if starscream didn't know and even after the discovery, he still decided to follow a separate path from megatron (the cons splitting into two)

Even more so if we count with the AUs we have (Spitfire and Aftermath being alive, Star's twins, etc.)

Listen

Listen

LISTEN

Megatron teaming up with the autobots but the whole thing being a ruse is such good food

Soundwave is the only one that knows, because he's the only one that can be trusted to keep it 100000% confidential. He got himself captured and endured months of torture under GHOST just to help his leader speed up the investigation. We stan a loyal king. In this scenario he likely had to intentionally drive a wedge between himself and his cassettes to keep them safe, and he'll reunite with them post season 1

Starscream and Shockwave, on the other hand? Not a clue. They genuinely think he's gone soft, betrayed them, happily jumped in bed with their oppressors. He's no better than them and his past with their movement means nothing: he's dead to them both.

As far as Starscream is concerned, Megatron being a miserable traitor (and isn't that ironic) is one of the best things that ever happened to him. Now they're on opposing sides and he's no longer living under his thumb. Life on this planet is miserable, but after finally breaking out of prison, he doesn't have to be afraid of being manhandled and kicked around and beaten to smelted slag. Their armies are scattered but the few that remain fall into line and listen to him, they respect him, and he's content with that. If we weave in previous AUs he has his bitties to occupy him as well, and the two new terrans.

The decepticons are few but they're not gone, and so long as they remain they're going to fight. Just because Megatron decided to throw his lot in with their captors and slavers of old, decided to abandon the cause he once so fervently fought for, doesn't mean they're finished. They don't have to roll over and accept a life under autobot rule. They won't. They refuse! The Prime's promises are empty, it'll only be a matter of time before they reinstate their old council and start molding society back to the way they want it to be, and each and every remaining decepticon will die before they accept that.

Soundwave watches over all of them silently, trying to keep them alive and secretly communicating with Megatron to keep him informed and make sure the bots never get the jump on them. He's hard pressed to admit it, but Starscream is doing well. Their faction isn't starving, they're organized, they're hidden and mostly safe. He relays as much to Megatron, but he knows good and well Starscream won't ever go back to him. Keeping him on such a tight leash, keeping him always hurt and scared and lashing out had worked to keep him under control and shackled to Megatron's side. But now... that's gone. He's getting along well with his seekers and they all hate his guts for leaving them. Starscream especially despises him, and now that he's gotten a taste of life without him, realizes just how much better life can be? He won't be keen to let Megatron waltz back in and assume command... they'll likely have to fight for it. Megatron might even have to kill him for it. With the way things have been going, Soundwave honestly doesn't know who's side anyone will choose... perhaps, even, himself included

[gggreengoblin]

Room 3033

I wrote some itty bitty fic, Halloween edition, of Maxiel where they were ghosts. Basically, they were just doing their things (wandering around a hospital) but ended up causing chaos in the maternity unit.

CW :: mention of death and blood but nothing graphic

Being stuck in one place was boring, especially for a long time.

Daniel didn't know how long they had been in this place. He had lost count of how many dawns they had seen here, how many full moons had passed, and how many seasons had passed. Time and space slowly blurred and became one.

Maybe if he were trapped here alone or with another ghost, he would lose his sanity. But he had to thank whoever was up there. He still had Max, even in the eternality of death.

Everything had changed, and it happened constantly and quickly, especially within these white walls of a hospital. Patients came and went, came in sick, and would leave after a couple of days, either because they were getting better or dead. The doctors, nurses, pharmacists, and janitors changed too. Only the ghosts who bounded into this hospital remain the same. They were just a group of lost souls, frozen in time and shackled by space.

Daniel was lying down on the last bed he slept in. On his final days, the room felt cold to the point that it made his bones ache. The lights used to be so bright, piercing his eyes through his eyelids. And the room was noisy because of the 'beep, beep' sound from the medical equipment. But it had changed. That day, the room was empty for the first time in months. Its last patient had died. It was another post-surgery complication case. That young woman's death was leaving the room dark, quiet, and a little colder than usual.

“Let's do something, Daniel. Why are you trying to sleep? Of course, ghosts can't sleep," Max said. He sat next to Daniel's right leg.

Daniel looked at the younger man. Max looked very pale in the dark room, especially since there was only moonlight illuminating that room, coming in through the crack in the window. The pale light was hitting his ghostly white skin.

Max wore a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, dark blue t-shirt. It was his last outfit—the last thing he wore before their accident. He still looked as beautiful as ever. Nothing was out of place. Not a spec of blood splattered on his pale clothes. Not a single hair was out of place.

Daniel was grateful Max could appear like this, not in his final state. The memory of their last moments was starting to fade with time. But if he remembered correctly, it was like a nightmare. Their blood was everywhere. He was also thankful he didn't look like his last day. How terrible it would be if he had to go through eternity with only half of his limbs intact.

"Where do you want us to go?" Daniel rose from his sleeping position. He straightened his brown shirt again, which would never get wrinkled—a perk of being a ghost. He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Wherever. It doesn't matter. Just not here. Boring."

“I saw in the children's ward that there were lots of people bringing costumes. I think today is Halloween. Do you want to go there, Maxy?” Daniel offered his suggestion. They loved Halloween when they were alive, so why should they stop after their death?

"No. I don't want to ruin that sick children’s night."

“I think we’ll be fine if we keep being invisible.”

“What if we accidentally scare them?” It was Max's biggest crime. Sometimes, he would accidentally slip into the human dimension and materialize in front of unsuspecting eyes.

Yes, being a ghost was hard. After years, they still made mistakes. They had scared some unlucky humans without meaning to. All of them were accidents.

“Then where do you want to go? Geriatrics? Watching old people sleep?"

“Too sad.”

“Trauma unit?”

Max shook his head. "What about the maternity unit?"

He didn't understand why Max wanted that. It was the least exciting unit in the building, saved by some juicy paternity drama for once in a while. “You want to see babies?”

"They sleep all the time, so it's not a problem.

Yeah, whatever. Daniel would do anything to keep Max happy. So they floated onto the third floor. They had to bypass a pediatric room where a kid was wearing a Batman costume. Nice choice. If he could be a hero, he would choose to be Batman too. Rich, handsome, and strong. What a combination!

The ward was as quiet as a cemetery. Not a single nurse walked the hallway. The babies were quiet, spending their first few hours on earth with their mamas.

Max stopped in front of a door. He read the patient information there. “Daniel, have you ever heard that Asian babies are the cutest babies in the world?" He showed the name on the patient’s information form: ‘Kim Jeong Eun.’

Daniel had never seen a Korean baby before.

Max entered the room by going through the door. Daniel followed him.

The room was dim. There was only a nightlight to accompany a mother and her baby. Daniel was surprised because no man was sleeping on the sofa in this room.

Max walked over to the baby's crib, next to the mother's bed. He looked very enthusiastic.

Daniel saw that the woman still looked tired and swollen. Women who have given birth always look like that. He knew after seeing his sister give birth.

Max was standing next to the baby's crib. He reached out his pale hand to the baby's face.

"Max, don't touch the baby," Daniel said, “they will feel your cold energy.”

"Just a moment, Daniel." "Look, she's so beautiful."

Max was right. The baby was adorable. She was swaddled up in a pink blanket with a floral motif. She had very thick, black hair, far from Daniel's two nephews when they were just born.

Max smiled at the baby. The one he used to have when he met his nibbling He looked like he wanted to hold the baby. Maybe, if they were still humans, Max would ask the mother to let him hold this baby.

Daniel could imagine Max becoming a father. He would be a very loving father to his children. He would take care of his blonde babies with great patience and dedication. But unfortunately, death took them before all that could happen.

"Max, have you ever wanted to be a father?" Daniel blurted it out without thinking. He wanted to slap himself for asking that question. Even as a ghost, he still didn't stop saying stupid things. His intrusive thoughts always won their battles.

Max stopped rubbing his finger on the little girl's cheek and looked at Daniel with wide blue eyes. “I never thought about that, Daniel. I don't think I would be a good father.”

“You are much better than your father.” Daniel squeezed Max's shoulder. “If only you were given the chance, you would be the best father in the world. I know it."

“I think you will be much better than me. It's all over, Daniel. We- it's better not to think about that.”

Something happened. In a blink of an eye, Max lost his translucency. His body started to materialize into a human dimension.

“Max, what are you doing?” Daniel wanted to scream.

“Shit! Shit!” said Max. He panicked and took his fingers away from the baby's cheek, which was starting to squirm in her swaddle.

"Don't shout, Max! What if they can hear you?"

The baby started crying loudly. She was screaming her lungs out.

'No! No! No! Please, no!' Daniel screamed inside his head. He tried to calm the baby down by patting her body, but it was a fruitless attempt. He was still in his ghost form. He couldn't 'touch' living things.

“Daniel, what should I do? I can't go back!” Max tried to hide behind the white curtain. But he still couldn't disappear. He stocked out his head, looking for an answer from Daniel.

The baby's cry woke up the mother. With her panicked eyes, she looked around the room. Her eyes land on Max.

She rushed to take her baby into her arms. She was crying and breathing rapidly. She spoke a language that Daniel couldn't understand. She mumbled to herself as if she were praying while holding her baby.

“Focus, Max!”

“I'm focused!” he shouted in his panicked voice.

“You are still visible! She's still looking at your feet. Damn it!” Daniel saw that the woman seemed short of breath and pale. Cold sweats were beading on her skin.

"I'm trying, Daniel!"

It took a couple more minutes for the curtain to return to its normal condition. It finally became flat because Max could float through it again. Max had become invisible again for the patient. He floated next to Daniel.

"What are we doing? She looks like she's going to faint,” said Daniel.

“Call the nurse's station.”

"Is that possible?"

“Drop the phone. I'll press the button."

It took a lot of energy to drop the phone without being materialized. Daniel had to use all his focus to do that.

Once the phone handle was upside down, Max pressed the nurse station number.

"It's connected, Daniel. Say something to the nurse!"

“Yeah."

"Hi! Hello. I am from the room-” He looked around the room to see the room number.

Max stuck his head through the door. "3033."

“3033.” He parroted it into the phone.

'Yes, what can we do to help you, sir?' The nurse said.

“She's- the mother and her baby are not doing well. I think she is panicking. Can you come and take a look?”

'Okay, we'll be there soon.'

Daniel hung up the phone. "Let's get out of here, Max." He took Max's arm and led him up onto the roof.

They needed to go. They already made a big mess that night; there was no need to stay, which made things worse.

……………………………………

It was 6 a.m., and you needed some coffee to keep you awake. It was just one more hour until the end of your shift, but things were getting too much for you.

The night shifts were always exhausting and demanding. You already knew that. You took a short break before your shift and needed to buy some strong coffee from the cafeteria.

You met your senior there, Leslie, the one from the ER. She looked ruff with bags under her eyes and messy buns. You knew you looked the same.

"Morning, Leslie," you said.

Leslie just nodded and kept sipping her plain black coffee.

“Last night, something strange happened during my shift. There was a call from room 3033. Someone called the nurse station. It was a man, even though the mother was alone. Her husband wasn’t in the hospital."

She put her coffee down and looked at you. "What did the voice that called you sound like?"

“Young man, Australian. He said the mother was freaking out.”

Leslie chuckled at you. “Oh my God, he told you the mother was freaking out but didn’t tell you he was the one who made the poor woman panic.”

“What do you mean, Leslie?”

“Oh, that's nothing new. Don't worry about them. They are harmless.” Leslie said it plainly. It was just common knowledge, which it wasn’t.

"What?" You were shocked. No one told you that this hospital was properly haunted. Well, yeah, it was a hospital, probably haunted, but you had hoped it wasn't.

“What did your patient see?” Leslie said again.

“A blonde man next to her baby.”

“Ehem.” She sipped her coffee again. “I think it was just Max and Daniel.”

What the heck?

How could she know the ghosts' names?

You cleared your dry throat. "How do you know?"

“All the senior employees of this hospital know about them. They often make some disturbances during the night shift. Mischievous but not evil. What your patient described, he looked like Max. Blonde and young, mid-twenties, right?"

You nodded.

“And the one who called seems to be Daniel because you said he had an Australian accent."

"Yes." You agreed again. All the descriptions Leslie gave you match your patient’s story.

“They often wander around in the ICU, but sometimes appear in another unit too. I used to look after one of them. It was a serious accident. Both of them died after their emergency surgeries.”

"Damn." You chugged your coffee. You needed to find your unit supervisor and ask her for less night shift.

[thelogbookproject]

If you could do any licensed TTRPG product, what would it be? Someone else's IP, completely redoing an already established one, anything!

It's complicated. This is a thorny subject for me -- I'm happy to answer, it's just messy.

See, I designed Legend of the Elements. At the time, it was a definitive answer to "What Is the AtLA RPG". Fast forward to when Avatar got an official PbtA RPG, Avatar Legends, and despite years of experience adapting AtLA to PbtA, I was never approached, considered, or asked to contribute in any way. I get why the corporation went with Magpie over itty bitty solo me, but it stung. What hurts much more: Avatar Legends is, imo, far worse than Legend of the Elements 2e (in development a year before AL's announcement). I kinda hate it. I didn't like Masks even before it. I won't get into it here or I'll never stop and I'll hurt my professional standing with people I like. Ask me some other time if you wanna know about that.

Anyway, I'm obviously bitter. A big part of coping has been recognizing how freeing myself from the IP allows my game to improve. This isn't unfounded! LotE was originally Avatar World, and about halfway through development I knew I had enough to actually publish and stripped off the labels, becoming Legend of the Elements, and it vastly improved the game almost overnight. So I'm hesitant about working with IPs in the best of cases. I've been stripping IPs off my designs to improve them forever now, and most of my games start with IPs I love that I want to improve by going beyond them. Media provides ideas, but IPs are just shackles on adaptation work.

Still, I do have answers.

If I get complete freedom to adapt and shape the game, ignoring existing products: Avatar the Last Airbender.

If I'm bound to the character constraints of the IP: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

If I can play outside the plots and structures of the original to my own desires: Disco Elysium.

AtLA is, frankly, personal vindication. Plus my game is better and I want people to play it, for their sakes, but the answer here is driven by a desire for vindication.

She-Ra is so intensely character-driven that I don't think you can make a recognizable SRPoP game without directly doing the IP, and adapting LotE(2e) is actually perfect for it. I actually did it, only viewable on my Patreon or website, DTRPG (rightly) blocked it from sale. I would love to explore that further. As much as Thirsty Sword Lesbians is the Catradora game, I don't think a real She-Ra adaptation works without She-Ra herself in the rules.

I don't want to retell Disco Elysium, in plot, setting, or theme. But the underlying structures of what makes it what it is are eminently open to being worked with, and I have a vision. I have that vision right now, and it's in the early stages of being processed. Maybe it won't go anywhere, but that's what I'm excited about right now, so that's what I'm saying.

I have one more answer. All of those share one trait: I know how I'd do them. So if you want the deepest, truest, dark-of-my-soul answer for what IP I wish I could adapt but don't know how I'd even do it to my satisfaction: The World Ends With You.

It escapes me. I wish I knew how to do it. The firm #3 on my Personal Top 5 Games Ever list, I long for the day that I crack the code. Also: I know of, and respect, Vibe Check. It does capture elements, but it's not what I envision.

So that's my answer. Depending on circumstance, Avatar the Last Airbender, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Disco Elysium, or The World Ends With You.

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

I am for real writing these, part of that last poem was supposed to be part of your Valentine’s Day gift, but you called and I am but a slave to your every whim, but pity me not for I’d rather be wrapped in the chains and shackles of your affliction than to be free and empty hearted so as I’d be without them. You bring out the poet in me but it’s a duality. You get a lovely heartfelt poem and I get to hide my normal idiolect behind it, though I hope you don’t mind I can’t always keep to the proper iambic pentameter.

I too am in love with the anonymous nature of our talks, it’s the thrill of the chase, the rush of blood to my head and heart when I write you a poem. I do love you Lumi, it’s crazy to say for we’ve never properly talked but you fill my otherwise dreadful day with joy and whimsy.

I also have brown eyes and am a member of the itty bitty titty committee, but I say too much, I already fear you may be connecting the dots and strings that pan out my identity.

A last little poem for you, my sweet sweet queen. Though there will be others in the future, I’m sure.

The fact that you have called out to me has filled my day. No, week. Nay, month. With glee. Never forget you are loved and cherished and coveted by me. I will climb large mountains and scale tall trees to scream from the rooftops my love for thee

okay, i have kept this ask in my inbox for as long as I could bear because i needed to look at it so often this last week :')

only sharing here because a) most of my timeline is asleep and only the Europeans lurk here when they should be working!!! and b) your poetry deserves to be shared with the world, gray face <3

[rosieblogstuff]

🎃👻🦇Trick or Treat 🦇👻🎃

This might be a trick because I've got this little itty bitty drabble I've had sitting around since a drabble challenge from August 2022. So here, as the sqeal to "Please Stop" and "You're Going to Hurt Yourself ifYou Keep Doing That" I give you the nearly year-old 120-word drabble for "Did You Have a Nightmare?"

Mac isn’t sure how long he was out this time. His sense of time fled days ago, stolen away by Murdoc’s irregular visitation schedule and lack of any access to natural light. Pain weighs heavily on his limbs. He’s too tired to sleep any way except in a gray haze of exhaustion. “You cried out in your sleep,” Murdoc tells him from across the room, where he’s putting away the wires that were recently attached to Mac’s left wrist and right ankle. “Did you have a nightmare?” Mac can’t help a half-hysterical laugh. The motion makes the shackles on his wrists clink and his twisted shoulders feel like they’ve been set on fire. “I wonder what would give me nightmares.” 

[rokudaimehole]

Srry if this was asked but why give ayame a new ending? im confused why you changed her story

No it’s okay, I get it can be confusing. I have answered it before but I don’t mind to keep talking about it because I feel it’s important people know they can make changes to their stories and it’s no big deal.

Originally, Ayame died at the end of her story — which just so happened to be the end of Shippuden. I wrote it before the actual ending chapters were released in 2014 (omg). I was content for her ending to be concluded with death as her ultimate redemption for the (many) bad things she had done. At the time, that’s what made me happy. It was bittersweet, and I often toyed with the idea of her finding peace, but ultimately I didn’t really want to iron out the kinks of “how to absolve a war criminal” lol.

The change in her story honestly came about with the release of Boruto. I remember reading it and feeling like, wow, I wonder what Ayame would be up to if she had lived. It snowballed from just thinking about it, to talking to my friends about it, to building little headcanons, to suddenly drafting little mini stories about Ayame later in life. I plotted and planned a lot and fell in love with the idea of giving her a soft epilogue and torturing her kids instead.

It’s changed to something a little further from the Boruto storyline and exists within my own fanon. She has kids, but they’re little bitty. She found peace, but remains haunted by her past. The world may have changed, but Ayame is shackled by ideals that echo in her mind. And those are the things I wanted to open up and divulge rather than say “welp, she dead, bye”.

Editing and making changes is part of the writing process. Sometimes we change our minds or explore new ideas well after we think we’re finished. Revision is your friend!