#of course I figure out my design now that he’s no longer in my au

[sandwichedbread]

so that cuteguy skin amiright fellas

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

I ║ Palomino

Jack Daniels x f!reader

 { Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2: Buckskin }

Rating: M (will be E in future chapters)

Summary: Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

Warnings: Extremely self-indulgent solo travel romance, flirting, yearning, language, matchmaking themes, lots of horsey details, mention of breakup, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This story encompasses a lot of firsts for me - first new series since Consent, first time writing Jack, first time writing something so action-heavy and close to my heart. While I'm not 100% confident I got everything right, I am so excited about this fic. I hope you're ready for the ride (I apologise in advance for all the horsey puns incoming)!

I want to call out (affectionate) LJ @prolix-yuy for lighting a fire under my ass for cowboy Jack with her incredible Westworld AU Cognitive Dissonance. I also need to thank Ani @deadhumourist for the idea of a company retreat that I used in this chapter, and for sharing with us her amazing Jack fic Under Marula Trees. And of course, Ash @mandoblowmybackout for enduring my almost non-stop screeching about Jack ❤️

More notes in the Series Masterlist on horses and travel, etc!

Palomino: a pale golden or tan-coloured horse or pony with a white mane and tail, originally bred in the south-western US.

The door creaks long and loud on its hinges as it opens, barely letting through a bustling figure before slamming shut so hard it rattles on its heavy oak frame.

At the long-suffering frown sent his way from across the reception desk, Champ holds his hands up in apology and tip-toes in exaggerated fashion to his desk. Ginger shakes her head fondly - being quiet is not one of her employer’s strong suits.

She presently returns to the phone call she’s in the middle of, using her most placating tone on this customer. ‘Look, we have regulars coming in the same week as you. They come every year for a company retreat, and they are just the loveliest people you can meet. I promise you’ll have a great time.’

The vintage Chesterfield groans under his weight as Champ settles down, and with a practised flick of his wrist, his cowboy hat lands on its designated hook on the wall. He turns to the ledgers Harry left on his desk two days ago - he can’t keep putting them off much longer…

His mind quickly wanders. He’s a people person, and he’s always been more interested in the dude ranch holiday part of the business. However, Ginger is so good at her job that she’s made him redundant, banishing him to the whiskey distillery side of things. 

It doesn’t stop him from keeping half an ear on the ongoing phone conversation though.

‘I’m so sorry, ma’am, it’s not our policy to offer refunds. But I promise you’ll have the best birthday with us on the trip.’

Champ steeples his fingers and leans back in his chair. Ah, a customer wanting to cancel. Always tricky.

‘Tell you what - since you’ve already paid a 40% deposit for two guests, why don’t I waive the 20% balance for your holiday for one party?’

Champ arches a grey eyebrow in curiosity.

‘Alright, perfect,’ chirps Ginger brightly. ‘We look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. Bye now.’

‘What was that about?’ he asks as soon as she hangs up.

Bringing up the reservations system on her computer, she types busily as she replies, ‘A guest booked a holiday with her boyfriend, but they broke up, and she wanted a refund for both their places. I convinced her to come alone instead with the discount. She’s here the same week as the Kingsman so she definitely won’t be lonely.’

Champ gives her a double thumbs up. ‘Nicely done, Ginger. And did you say it’s her birthday while she’s here?’

‘Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll give Poppy a heads up to bake a cake in advance.’

‘Do you have a photo of her?’

Ginger’s fingers pause and hover over the keyboard, a warning in her voice. ‘Champ.’

He blinks innocently. ‘What? I’m a nosy bastard.’

With a sigh, she pulls up a Whatsapp profile picture and holds up the phone to him.

He puts on his reading glasses to look at the screen, and proceeds to nod thoughtfully. Finally, they haven’t had any single guests at the ranch for months on end. Surely, she’s his type…

‘Champ?’ Ginger’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. ‘Stop meddling!’

He feigns ignorance. ‘Whatever do you mean, ma’am?’

She rolls her eyes affectionately. ‘He’s a big boy, he doesn’t need your help.’

Champ barks in laughter. ‘Like hell he doesn’t. Call the Kingsman and reschedule them, Ginger. I have a plan.’

You’ve never travelled on your own before.

Now that you’re speeding down the empty country roads towards the Bighorn Mountains - windows down, dust flying, radio blaring - you honestly don’t know why you waited so long.

You’re glad that the woman at the Statesman stood firm when you called a month and a half ago, asking for a refund. The discount sweetens the deal too.

To be honest, the week-long dude ranch trip you booked months ago had completely slipped your mind in the aftermath of the breakup. There were more pressing matters, like - what were you going to do with the house you bought and remodelled together?

You’d just finished tiling the backsplash with the vintage Italian mosaic you found at a flea market when you were informed that he didn’t feel the same way about you anymore. In fact, he hadn’t for some time.

You were only reminded of the trip when you started clearing your stuff out of the attic, finally having found an apartment you could afford on your own that is also not a shithole. You found the riding gear that you’d stashed away, gathering dust since you two started dating.

You should be thankful that at least there’s no costly wedding venue deposit to forgo or a pet custody battle to muddle through. He’s always hated animals - you really should’ve known. 

But you can’t bring yourself to not be bitter about everything. Not yet.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re going on this trip. That lazy bastard can start pulling his weight and sort out the house viewings for potential buyers for this week. He’s been dragging his feet - just because he can afford to pay both the mortgage and rent at his new bachelor pad doesn’t mean you can too.

You shake yourself out of it and crank up the stereo. Fuck it. You’re not thinking about him or the house or anything this weekend. It’s your solo birthday getaway and you’re gonna enjoy the fuck out of it.

And who knows? If you’re lucky, you could be rebounding with a handsome cowboy, like one of those awful Unicorn Club novels you used to read over and over again when you were fifteen.

You laugh, the pull of the muscles in your cheeks unfamiliar after weeks of disuse. A girl can dream.

You switch off the ignition, hands gripping the driving wheel tightly, and you take a moment to compose yourself. 

‘You can do this,’ you murmur, giving yourself a reaffirming nod in the rear view mirror.

Hopping off your rental truck, you shut the door behind you and start towards the only building you can see, a rustic lodge with a red roof. Statesman is blazened in iron letters, nailed proudly above a wraparound porch with welcoming rocking chairs and armchairs scattered about.

The gravel beneath your sneakers crunches loudly. You can hear in the distance sounds that you haven’t heard for a long time - clip clop of hooves, the drag of a barn door on rusty hinges, the low whinny of horses. You breathe in the mountain air scented with a whiff of sweet hay. Things that were familiar once upon a time. Your chest constricts at something blooming between your ribs, and a small smile lifts the corner of your lips.

There’s a bark out of the blue, and a border collie comes zipping towards you, wagging his tail so hard that his whole bottom wriggles from side to side. You coo excitedly and crouch down to give him a cuddle when a man with grey hair emerges from the lodge. It’s a warm day, but he’s wearing a suit with a cowboy hat.

In a booming voice, he calls your name in greeting and makes his way over to you. ‘We’ve been expecting you, young lady! The name’s Champ. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

You stand and shake his proffered hand with a smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Champ. It’s good to be here.’ You gesture to the empty parking lot. ‘Am I early or something?’

‘You’re our only guest this week, actually,’ he replies in a thick Southern accent.

You scratch the back of your neck, taken by surprise. ‘Umm, but the lady I spoke to on the phone - she said that there are regulars joining? A company retreat or something?’

‘Sadly, they rescheduled. It’s just you, my dear. You’re our VIP!’ he grins and claps you on the shoulder. ‘Come! Walk with me. I’ll have someone take your bags to your room. You can leave the keys in the car, it’s safe - but you keep any food to yourself or Jameson here will run away with it!’

The border collie barks at his name and Champ scratches him behind the ear, dispatching him with a wave of his hands.

Your host starts at a brisk walk. ‘So, how was your journey, young lady?’

You have to power walk to keep up with him as the gravel fades into firm sand. ‘Long, but glad to be here. I’ve been really looking forward to getting away.’

‘First time travelling alone, I assume?’ Champ smiles at you kindly.

You nod sheepishly. ‘I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.’

He laughs. ‘You’re entitled to nerves, but I promise you, you’ll forget all about that in three, two, one -’

Right on cue, you round the back of the lodge and you can’t help the gasp that slips out as you stumble to a stop.

The full landscape of the ranch comes into view beneath your feet. A picturesque river cuts through the green sweep of land, small lodges with matching red roofs are dotted all over one side of the bank, and bigger barn-like structures stand on the other. The Bighorn Mountains tower over the entirety of the property. You see horses grazing in a huge, fenced field, tails flicking lazily at flies.

Champ practically glows at your reaction. ‘It’s taken thirty years to get to where we are. I hope it will stand for many more decades to come.’

‘It’s - stunning,’ you say rather inadequately.

Champ winks at you. ‘Wait till you go into the mountains, my dear. Come along, now.’

You resume walking side by side, and he continues, ‘Now, since you’re our only guest this week, I can give you two options for your trip. We can do day-long rides with you, and you spend the nights here at the ranch. It’s more comfortable, but it does mean that you don’t get to go as deep into the mountains.’

Champ stops to take a breath. ‘Alternatively, you can go on a week-long pack ride with our cowboy and camp along the way, just the two of you. It's a magnificent journey, I can promise you.’

It’s a lot of information to take in so quickly, and you hesitate. ‘Um - ’

He holds up a hand at you and pauses abruptly, something catching his eye. ‘Ah, speak of the devil. Before you decide, you need to meet our cowboy. He'll be your guide for the week.’

You’re craning your neck to catch a glimpse when Champ bellows so loudly that you nearly have to take cover. ‘JACK! Son! Say hello to our guest for this week before you take the horses to pasture.’

Your ears still ringing, the silhouette of a man on horseback comes into view halfway across the yard. The dust seems to magically settle and part, and a handsome face framed by a cowboy hat, a tidy moustache and a wicked sharp jawline comes into focus.

‘Whoa.’

You belatedly realise that you said that out loud when Champ wriggles his eyebrows at you.

‘Howdy, ma’am,’ the cowboy calls back, tipping his hat politely. His voice rings brightly in the space between you, but the delicious lick of his Southern drawl makes goosebumps chase across your skin. You manage a weak smile and a wave, not trusting your power of speech at the moment.

‘Be back at four to take the lovely lady on her orientation ride, alright?’

Jack gives him a two-fingered salute. ‘Got it, boss. See you soon, ma’am.’

You watch unashamedly as the cowboy smoothly steers his horse around, and with a whistle, the dozen or so horses follow suit as he canters out of view.

‘So? What say you?’ Champ interrupts your thoughts with an expectant look.

You can’t help the stupid grin that breaks upon your face. ‘The pack trip sounds good.’

Champ claps his hands together so loudly that you jump. ‘Your wish is my command, ma’am. Or rather - Jack’s.' He winks. ‘He’ll pick out a horse for you and take you for a short ride to make sure you’re comfortable before the trip starts tomorrow. Sounds good?’

‘Perfect.’

Stopping outside one of the lodges near the river, Champ sweeps his arm in a flourish. ‘There we go, this is your lovely room for tonight, with the best views of the mountains. Poppy’s left some lemonade and sandwiches inside if you need a pick-me-up, and your bags will be with you shortly. Just make sure you’re ready by four. Got it?’ 

He holds up a hand to you, and you give him a high five. ‘Got it, Champ.’

‘Welcome to the Statesman, my dear.’ 

Watching you bound up the stairs with a spring in your step, Champ gives himself an imaginary pat on the shoulder. Well done, old chap. The plan is in motion.

You lay your outfits on the large bed as you chew on a delicious sandwich, weighing the options for your afternoon ride. You packed according to the list the ranch sent in your orientation email, but you wish you’d brought something nicer. They really should’ve included a hot cowboy warning.

You wanted to spend some time on the porch and enjoy the magnificent views of the mountains from your doorstep before the ride, but by the time you’re finally happy with your choice of clothes, you’re startled by rapping on the door.

Sucking in a steadying breath and smoothing back your hair, you turn the knob.

Fuck me sideways. This man is devastatingly good-looking on close inspection.

‘Hi, again,’ you smile, hoping your words didn’t come out as squeaky as it sounded in your head.

The cowboy returns your smile with teeth and tips his hat at you - black suede with a leather band - then offers you his hand. ‘Jack Daniels. Pleasure to meet you properly, ma’am.’

You give him your name and your hand. His grip is firm and assured, the slide of his palm against yours feels weathered and rope-worn. You cross your arms self-consciously, but the words that come out are bolder than you feel. ‘So, Champ says you’re my own personal cowboy for the week?’

He chuckles and plays along, giving you a small bow. ‘I’m at your beck and call, darlin’.’

His rich voice curls around every syllable, dipping and climbing with each inflection, but the languid cadence doesn’t waver. You decide here and then that this man can call you darlin' any time he wants.

He hooks one thumb through a belt loop, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He runs his eyes up and down your body, both professionally assessing and not, lingering on your breeches, riding boots and half chaps. He arches an eyebrow at you and says in a playful tone, ‘So, I see you’re one of those fancy English riders.’

You gesture at the flannel shirt you’re wearing, the ends tied in a knot to give it a cropped fit. You think you look cute - hopefully. You choose to crack a joke, ‘Give me some credit, cowboy, I’m trying to fit in.’

He holds his hands up in surrender, pushing himself off the door. ‘My apologies, darlin’, where are my manners? The illusion is perfect. You ready to go?’

You grab your riding hat. ‘Absolutely.’

Jack takes one look at your helmet and tuts, plucking it from your fingers. ‘Oh no, that won’t do. That is one thing I don't allow on my rides. We’ll find you a real hat.’

It’s a short walk to the stables. You hang back with all the subtlety you can muster to quietly study the cowboy you’ll be sharing close quarters with for the next week. His walk is deliberate, he almost prowls, narrow hips undulating with the rhythm of his strut. When he reaches up to adjust his hat, his shirt strains over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up in the afternoon heat. Your eyes are about to dip a lot lower when he turns back to look at you, and you duck your head like you’ve been caught with your finger in the pie.

Are you imagining the touch of self-satisfaction that’s crept into his warm eyes?

‘So, how long have you been riding?’ he slows down so you can catch up with him. You’re relieved he doesn’t call you out on your very obvious appraisal of him.

You shrug. ‘Since I was a kid, but I haven’t been on a horse since - ’ You pause to rearrange your words. ‘- for almost five years. And I’ve always ridden the English way, so I don’t know how well I’ll do with Western riding.’

He brushes away your concern. ‘Western is easy, it’ll be a piece of cake for you, I’m sure.’

The stables are large and airy with rustic beams framing a vaulted ceiling. Utility barns are clustered outside in close vicinity, but all is still in the mid-afternoon hour. Your footsteps echo as you make your way down the concrete corridor, Jack’s sturdy cowboy boots treading heavier and louder than your riding boots. Large and tidy stalls line either side, some empty and some occupied.

‘The horses spend most of the summer outdoors,’ explains Jack. Stopping in front of a huge chalkboard nailed to the wall, he gestures at the daily schedule listed next to each name, written in a neat hand. ‘We keep them on a weekly roster to make sure their workload is evenly distributed.’

Resuming your slow course deeper into the stables, Jack asks conversationally, ‘What are you looking for in your horse for the week?’

It’s a broad question that you don’t quite know how to answer. You purse your lips. ‘To be honest? I don’t know, it’s been a while.’

‘Ok. Let’s put it this way - what’s important to you?’ He ticks off the options with his fingers. ‘Character? Temperament? Speed? Stamina?’

Is it just you or did his voice dip an octave on that last word?

Flustered, you struggle to come up with a reply. ‘Um - ’

Seeing that you’re overwhelmed, he wipes the slate clean with a wave of his hand. ‘I apologise, I didn’t express myself well.’ He changes tact. ‘Why don’t you tell me about your favourite horse?’

That you can do. You think about the last horse you really loved, before you met your ex, casting your mind back to long weekend afternoons at the local stables. The answer comes easily to you as your eyes fall to the tips of your black boots.

‘I like a horse that's forward-going but responsive to contact, and on the hot-blooded side with a bit of an attitude - I like a challenge.’ Feeling his eyes on you, you lift your gaze to his apologetically. ‘Sorry, was that way too vague or way too specific?’

‘Not at all. I appreciate a lady who knows what she wants,’ he reassures you, seemingly pleased at what he’s hearing. ‘I got just the horse for you.’

You must be in the middle of the stables structure now, when Jack makes a sharp right turn into a spacious room. Your eyes widen at the rows and rows of beautifully polished Western saddles, bridles and an assortment of other tack, some of which you don’t even recognise. Eyeing the signs above each saddle, you remark, ‘I see there’s a recurring theme in the names.’

Jack hoists a gorgeously embossed tan saddle off its rack on the wall, holding it against his side as if it weighs nothing, then grabs the bridle next to it and a saddle pad. ‘What do you expect from a ranch that also runs a distillery?’

Your eyebrows shoot up. ‘A distillery?’

‘Whiskey,’ he replies, making his way to the exit. ‘I’ll show you when we ride up the mountain, it’s on the other side of the ranch. Champ spends most of his time in the distillery nowadays.’

‘Can I help with anything?’ you ask, your hands feeling very empty as you trail behind him.

‘Not a chance, darlin’, you’re the guest. But you can watch if you want,’ he adds mischievously.

Lord have mercy. This man has gotten you more wound up in the last fifteen minutes with a few cheeky words than anyone has in a long time. Pull yourself together, woman.

You pass at least another dozen stalls - this is easiest the biggest stables you’ve ever seen - before Jack’s long strides ease, and at his whistle, the handsome face of a palomino pops up from behind a door. He nickers and nudges the cowboy familiarly on his arm, ears pricking up in alert when you come into view behind him.

‘Meet Scotch,’ Jack says in introduction, giving him a firm pat on the neck. With an easy swing, he rests the saddle on the top of the door and unlatches it, leaving it ajar for you to shuffle in behind him.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ you can’t help but coo, running your palm from his forehead - painted with a fetching white star - to his grey, velvety muzzle. ‘He’s sweet.’

‘Wait till you get him on the open road - he’s a speed demon.’ 

You must have let your nerves show, because Jack reassures you, ‘But only if you want him to be. He’s just as happy going steady.’

You lean against the wall as Jack makes quick work of tacking up. You admire the gentle way he fits the bridle over Scotch’s head and the bit in his mouth. Reaching out, you help untuck his white mane from the browband, etched with pretty flowery patterns, and brush out the tangles with your fingers as Jack fastens the clasps.

You can’t help but catch your bottom lip with your teeth when, with a soft grunt, the cowboy lifts the saddle over Scotch’s back. His shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans, stretches taut and you eye the hint of a soft belly underneath. It rests above an almost obnoxiously large belt buckle in the shape of - are you shitting me - a flask with Statesman spelled out in capital letters.

You quickly look away before you’re consumed by the want to reach out and check if it’s a real flask.

The Western saddle has far more bits and bobs than you’re used to, but you’re too far gone to pay attention to what Jack is doing with his nimble fingers anymore.

‘There.’ He straightens, dusts off his hands and places them on his hips, one dark eyebrow up. ‘I hope you were paying attention, ma’am, I might quiz you later.’

Oh shit. You stammer, ‘Um, I mean, you were quite quick -’

Jack crosses his arms and smirks. ‘I’m pullin’ your leg, darlin’. You’re so easy to rile up.’

Before you can restrain yourself, you take a step forward and give him a playful shove in rebuke. The joke’s on you though - the pectoral muscle underneath your palm is lean and hard, and your push makes no impact at all.

‘Employee of the year, ladies and gentlemen,’ you jest, retracting your hand reluctantly.

He leans in close and gives you an almost insolent smirk, voice dropping intimately. ‘Stop distracting me, darlin’, or we’ll never make it out of this stall.’

Fuck’s sake - your cheeks literally flame. You’re about as subtle as a bucking bronco.

Taking mercy on you, Jack herds you out of the stall with no further teasing, and Scotch follows obediently behind. You’ve barely scraped your brains back together when he stops by a doorway at the end of the stables, holding up a hand that brings the gelding to a smart square halt.

‘Stay,’ orders Jack in a stern voice as if Scotch was just a very large golden retriever - he has the colouring after all. He then nods at you. ‘Come on in, darlin’.’

Stepping into the small room, you gasp in delight - every conceivable surface is covered with cowboy hats of all colours and materials.

‘Let’s see what your size is,’ Jack mumbles to himself as he plucks some options off the wall. There’s no mirror, and you hold your breath when he steps into your space, putting one hat after the other on you as he narrows down the sizing. His face is set seriously, the bow of his upper lip drawn downward, brow wrinkled in concentration.

Eventually, you run out of oxygen and you breathe him in - summer grass, leather and smoke. Your tongue darts out and wets your suddenly dry lips.

In the minutest of glances, you catch his eyes flickering to your mouth for just a second. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t have spotted the fleeting stutter in his movements as he fits you with a cream suede hat with a brown leather braid. It sits snugly on your head without any pinch.

‘Try tipping your head forward and back,’ he instructs you, breaking the quiet tension. The hat doesn’t slip, and with a tap on the brim and a smile, he declares, ‘I think we’re good to go.’

Stepping into the open air, the bright afternoon sun makes you wince, and you pull your new hat a bit lower to shield from the light. You follow Jack across the yard, heading towards a chestnut with white stockings, fully tacked and waiting at a wooden post. Ruffling his thick mane, Jack says proudly, ‘Darlin’, meet my horse, Whiskey.’

‘How very fitting,’ you remark, smoothing a hand on his strong neck. ‘Hi, Whiskey.’

Scotch, who has been following you two dutifully, bumps noses with his friend in greeting. Reaching for his reins, Jack looks at you with a question in his eyes - all the tacking up, prepping and joking around is done. Suddenly, the likelihood of falling off your horse and flat on your bum in front of the cowboy seems extraordinarily high. Maybe you really didn’t think this through -

‘Hey,’ Jack cuts short your thoughts, chucking you gently under the chin. ‘Don’t be nervous. It’s all muscle memory - like riding a bike, you can’t forget. You do know how to ride a bike, don't you?’

Your shoulders quake with a laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood.

He tilts his head at you. ‘May I give you a leg up, darlin'?’

At your silent nod, Jack brings Scotch around, and you hope he doesn't see you wipe your sweaty palms on your breeches. One hand on the saddle horn, the other on the cantle you bend your left calf up and back by the hinge of your knee. 

Jack steps in right behind your heels, his frame dwarfing you even as he leans down at the ready. One strong hand closes around your ankle and the other just below your kneecap. His voice is deep and brushes against the shell of your ear. ‘On three, darlin’.’

He hoists you up so easily that you nearly go all the way over the other side of the saddle, but you grasp the horn just in time and land squarely in the seat, albeit a bit clumsily. You can’t help but wonder what else he can do with his easy strength - a whole lot of other things, you reckon -

Scotch shifts underneath you as he adjusts to your weight. The basic instincts of being on horseback kick in slowly but surely. You gather the reins in your non-dominant hand, put the tip of your toes through the stirrup irons, push your heels down and sit up tall. You inhale deeply and smile at Jack, who’s checking the tightness of the girth and the length of your stirrups.

‘All good?’ he asks you.

‘Yes,’ you reply, relieved that you feel less like a fish out of water than you’d feared.

Jack unties Whiskey from the post. Slotting his foot in the left stirrup, he effortlessly pushes off the ground and swings his leg over the saddle, settling gently into his seat. It’s really not fair that he’s able to do it so easily in jeans that tight.

Whiskey starts leading the way towards the back of the property and Scotch follows, obviously not pleased to be left behind. Jack holds Whiskey back so that you’re walking alongside him. ‘You’ve seen people ride Western?’ 

‘I get the general idea. Reins in my non-dominant hand. Leg aids are similar.’

‘If you want to turn to the right?’

‘Reins to the right and shift my weight the same way,’ you reply, recalling the research you did before the trip.

Jack nods approvingly. ‘Sounds like you’ve got it sorted, darlin’.’

Going up a gently sloping path, the ranch disappears behind you as you begin to climb above the property, and the landscape dramatically opens up. Your breath catches at the sight of the rolling plains that stretch too far for your eyes to see, towards the Bighorn Mountains. Scotch’s ears prick up in excitement at the space, nickering and chomping at the bit. You keep your contact on the reins light even as he prances underneath you, mindful not to pull on his mouth.

Jack smiles, and you hope you're making a good impression. ‘Wanna warm up with a little lope?’

‘Lope? You mean a canter?’ you retort jokingly.

He chuckles at your cheek. ‘Alright, ma’am, look at you with your fancy words.’

With a stern finger pointed his way, you warn him, ‘You’re not allowed to laugh if I fall off, deal?’

‘I know you won’t, but for your peace of mind, I’ll cross my heart,’ he jokes and traces the motion over his chest with his thumb. ‘After you, darlin’.’

With the lightest nudge of your heels, Scotch steps straight into a smooth canter. The sudden movement jolts you forward in the saddle and out of balance, but you quickly adjust, and your hips begin to follow the flow of the familiar four-beat motion. The wind sings in your ears over the steady rhythm of hooves hitting the earth, the mountainscape blurring into green and blue.

Jack is keeping pace next to you from a safe distance, meeting your eyes when you send the biggest grin his way.

For the first time in months, you feel joy.

The sun sets on a mild evening, so you agree to an al fresco dinner by the fire when Jack poses the question to you on your return from the afternoon ride. 

After a quick shower and changing into casual jeans and a sweater, you meet the rest of close-knit Statesman team at the dinner table, and Champ explains the logistics of the pack trip to you.

‘Since it’s just the two of you, you’ll only need one packhorse. You’ll sleep outside for the first two nights, then on the third, you’ll get to the Halfway House.’

The peculiar name piques your interest. ‘Halfway House?’

Champ chuckles. ‘Halfway as in halfway through the trip. We’ll drive out to stock up the house, bring you fresh clothes and anything you’d need for the second half of the trip back to the ranch. We’ll also collect your dirty clothes and have them laundered by the time you’re back. So make sure you pack two bags, we’ll sort them out tomorrow.’

Turning to Poppy, he starts discussing the provisions for the trip, and you take the chance to shuffle closer to Ginger. Jack is at the far end of the table, deep in conversation with a man introduced to you as Tequila (you didn’t ask), so you’re sure he can’t overhear you. You clear your throat. ‘So, I was wondering what the… lavatory arrangements are like out there?’

She gives you a encouraging smile. ‘It’s all au naturale, I’m afraid. But there are plenty of bushes so privacy won’t be an issue. We bring a portable shower for guests for the days you camp out, and there’s running water and electricity at the Halfway House. But at this time of the year, Jack usually just washes off in the river.’

Your jaw drops at that revelation, and before you can close your big mouth, you babble, ‘Wow… um, by wow I meant… bathing in the river must be… cold?’

Ginger gives you a knowing grin and clinks your glass. ‘I think you’ll have a great time on this trip, honey.’

It’s early, as the first day of a pack trip always is. The chill from daybreak still clings to the thin mountain air, but the glare of the sun is already strong, even from behind his sunglasses.

Jack runs through his usual checklists. Vetting the horses, triple checking the tack, bedding, food, supplies, first aid kit. He’s collected your bag from your doorstep and loaded it on the packhorse. You pack light, which he appreciates.

He spotted you at the breakfast table earlier, almost done with your toast, when he crossed the yard with the horses, so he reckons you’re on track to make a punctual start. With the heat forecast, he wants to make it to the cover of the forest path before midday. If you make good time, a sunset dip in the lake is on the cards.

As he double checks if all the straps on the saddle bags are properly buckled up, his routine is disrupted by a firm pat on his back.

Champ is a bundle of energy even at this early hour of the day, his suit on just the right side of presentable despite the wrinkles. ‘Have a good trip, son, and make sure you show our guest a good time. I like this one.’

‘You like everyone, Champ,’ retorts Jack, but there’s no real bite in his words. ‘Not sure it counts for much.’

‘I got a good feeling about her, I’m telling you.’ 

The younger man sighs, one hand on the rump of the packhorse and one on his hip as he braces himself for the usual spiel. ‘C’mon, boss - ’

‘You’re young, you’re single! If you insist on hiding away on this ranch in the middle of nowhere, you might as well at least try to have a good time when the opportunity presents itself.’

‘Why don’t you bother Ginger about it? She’s young and single too,’ grumbles Jack as he resumes his checks.

‘Because I know she can take care of herself. But you?’ Champ makes a face.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,’ he grumbles. ‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not hiding from anything. I actually like this job, but half the time I think you’re just trying to get rid of me.’

Spotting you over Jack’s shoulder, Champ gives him one last clasp on the arm. He leans in and says in a low voice, eyes sincere. ‘You don’t have to punish yourself forever, son. Live a little.’

Jack shakes his head as Champ moves away and calls out to you, his boisterous voice carrying even further in the cold air. He knows Champ means well. It’s not the first time he’s tried to set him up with someone, and he can confidently wager it won’t be the last. 

He knows for a fact that his boss rescheduled the Kingsman’s annual trip to engineer this one-on-one pack trip - they’ve been coming to the ranch the same time every year without fail since he started this job. He has no doubt they were more than delighted to be in cahoots with Champ in a scheme like this. 

Jack huffs a dry laugh to himself. He must be coming off as really fucking sad for Champ to go to such lengths this time. 

He straightens his well-worn denim jacket as you approach, looking almost shy this morning. You’re wearing a light fleece over what appears to be the same outfit from yesterday, hands tucked into pockets, hat dangling from the chin strap looped around your wrist.

He gives you a smile. ‘Mornin’, darlin’. Sleep well?’

‘Morning. Probably not as well I should have, considering we’ll be sleeping on the hard ground for the next couple of nights,’ you answer with a yawn, leaning on the post where the horses are waiting. You rub their noses affectionately. ‘Morning boys, how are we this fine morning?’

Jack gestures at the third horse. ‘This is Bourbon, our packhorse.’

‘Hey Bourbon.’ You give the pinto a firm pat, smoothing out his matted forelock.

‘You ready?’ asks Jack.

You put on your hat and nod determinedly. ‘Now or never.’

‘It’s not too late to back out, you know, ’ he jokes as you both start untying your horses from the post.

‘Oh no, you’re not getting rid of me now, cowboy,’ you quip.

When you’re both mounted, Champ and Ginger make an appearance, waving and beaming from ear to ear as you ride by. Champ grins, ‘Have fun, we’ll see you in a week! Don't come back unless you have plenty of stories to tell!’

You retrace the same path you took yesterday, up the back of the ranch and into the mountains. As the orange sun crests the top of the Bighorn, it dawns on Jack that he hasn’t spent any amount of time alone with another person for a long while, let alone seven continuous days with someone like you. 

He shakes his head. You’re a guest, that’s all. One who hasn't lost your gentle hands and soft seat despite not having spent any time in the saddle for years; who is quick on your feet yet easy to fluster; who laughs at his jokes and poorly concealed innuendos - but a guest. It’s his job to keep you safe this week, and he’s good at it. He’s done this for years and years.

Sometimes, he thinks that it’s all he has. 

Something like anxiety gnaws at his chest. You’re quiet, and he picks up on the stiffness in your shoulders. He clears his throat. ‘Nervous?’

You turn to him at his question, sucking in your bottom lip. ‘I suppose. Not about the riding, but… I’m a bit nervous about spending the week with you, to be honest. No offence.’

Well, at least he’s not the only one.

‘None taken,’ he shrugs nonchalantly. ‘And don’t worry, darlin’. Ol’ Jack doesn’t bite.’

His pulse skips a beat when you send him an almost impertinent sidelong glance. ‘I hope you do a little bit, cowboy.’

It takes him a second to let out a bark of laughter, and your whole body relaxes at the throaty sound. ‘Maybe I’m the one who should be nervous, then. Shall we stretch our legs? Start the day with a lope?’

Scotch recognises the word and whinnies, tossing his head excitedly.

A gentleman at heart, Jack adds, ‘Or later, if you prefer. We can go as fast or as slow as you want, darlin’.’

A slow heat burns under your skin at his words. Surely he must know what that sounds like, especially in that raspy drawl of his.

It must be the altitude that’s throwing your judgement out of the metaphorical window. Brazenly, you drag your eyes over him. His left hand grips the reins loosely, resting casually on the saddle horn, thick fingers of his other are splayed on his firm thigh, hips rocking to the pace of his horse.

You meet his curious stare in a challenge, imbuing your words with as much meaning as you could, letting a coy smile stretch your lips.

‘Let’s go fast, cowboy.’

As soon as your heels touch his sides, Scotch takes off at a lively stride, and Jack watches you go with a chuckle to himself.

‘Careful what you wish for now, darlin’,’ he mutters under his breath, and then he comes after you - fast.

Notes: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this first part! Comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated. If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please fill in my taglist.

If anyone is interested, there are some more horsey notes below (if it's boring, please let me know and I'll shut up lol):

About 'gentle hands' and 'soft seat': a kind rider uses 'quiet' aids to communicate with the horse (i.e. no pulling on the bit or flapping legs), and follows the horse's movements with their hips (i.e. their seat) to be gentle on the horse's back. It's a very subtle skill and you use a lot of core strength that is built over the years - sitting quietly on a horse is much harder than it looks!

If you can't tell, I ride the 'English' way and have never ridden Western. I've done as much research as I could, but if there are any inaccuracies, please let me know!

[stuffforthestash]

Modern Academic AU pt2

Originally started because Professor Raphael got stuck in my head and I had (foolishly) hoped if I wrote down some thoughts, that would be the end of it 🫠

Part 1 and Part 3 ------------------------------ Minthara - School of Law. Used to be a high profile defense lawyer but was barred from practice under questionable circumstances, so now she teaches courses on criminal procedure and domestic violence litigation. Male students are actively warned against taking any of her classes. Elminster - Liberal Arts Dean. Has been in the position forever and is something of a legend at this point. He's Gale's mentor and long time family friend, and he delights in showing up unannounced to Prof. Dekarios's lectures. The two of them have a longstanding tradition of leaving surprise pranks in each others offices. Rolan - English department. Newly upgraded from adjunct instructor to junior full time staff, he's been assigned the special hell of having to teach the general ed. introductory writing courses that none of the other faculty want to deal with. He hates it and thinks it's a complete waste of his talents, but is determined to stick through it long enough to get that research grant. Alfira - School of Theater & Music. Teaches vocal technique and musicality at every level. She's also the faculty coordinator for multiple on-campus performance groups, directs the university chorale and composes all their arrangements, is herself in a local acapella group, AND does community arts & outreach programs for kids.

Gortash - Newly appointed Dean of Information Studies. He's brilliant, he talks big about new frontiers in infosec and grand designs in the future potential of AI... and is already under investigation by the ethics board for misappropriation of university funds. Ketheric - VP of Alumni and he's been with the university longer than Elminster. Nobody knows why he hasn't just retired yet, despite how much he seems to hate his job. Orin - School of Fine Art. She "teaches" a course on performative art. It's weird and extremely uncomfortable for everyone involved, but for some reason people keep enrolling. Durge - Fine Art Dep't Chair. The deeply disturbing nature of his personal art aside, he's actually good at his job as both the chair and an instructor. Mostly teaches anatomy and live model studio courses. Ulder - VP of Public Affairs. He's a great public face for the university, everybody loves him... except the son he refuses to acknowledge after a falling out years ago. Mizora - Human resources admin. Loves her job because it gives her power over other people. Is more likely to be the source of an HR complaint than the one who actually solves the problem. Thaniel (as requested!) - Also HR. He's the one you hope gets assigned to whatever you need because he's great at it. Is also the only one who can reliably get in touch with Halsin; it's not well known that he can, so he'll usually agree to help those who figure out to ask him.

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

This started going long, so it looks like I'll be doing a third (and probably final?) installment to cover Dammon, Zevlor, Wulbren, Aylin & Isobel, and any other requests!

[oddinary4bts]

Hey!!!

Do u think u could make an JJK FF about two people falling in love bc of fate and coincidences?

I received this before my follower milestone but it works for the celebration I’m hosting so you are in luck hahaha

The Coincidence of Fate | jjk

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader

☆rating: 18+ (no smut in and of itself, just mention of oc and jungkook making love. Minors please DNI)

☆genre: slices of life!au, fluff

☆warnings: OC slips because of a mask, one mention of characters making love

☆word count: 1.3k

☆☆☆☆☆

You weren’t supposed to be here. You still can’t believe the series of events that led you to be standing here, in this coffee shop, drenched with water from the heavy rain outside.

First, you woke up this morning with an inexplicable yearning for your favourite cappuccino from that café you used to go to when you were in college. Literally, you woke up craving the taste of it, and the aromas that swirled on your tongue whenever you studied at that café, by the window overlooking the park on the other side of the street. So you elected to make a pitstop there before going to work, as your first meeting is only at 10:30 am anyway.

Second, you forgot to look at the weather before you leave – which mind you you never do. You usually look at the weather every morning to prepare yourself for the day – what you’ll wear, if you need to put boots or shoes, if you need to bring an umbrella. This morning you forgot, and your trustee red umbrella is still on its hook, in the wardrobe next to the apartment’s door. It’s probably laughing at you from where it hangs, warm and dry.

Third, you took the wrong metro line, which is entirely because you are so used to be going to work directly from home that you don’t even think when you do it, you just let the flow of the crowd guide you. It took you three stops to realize you took the wrong line, and you pull out your phone to figure out the most efficient way to get to the café. It turns out to be a bus, so you get out of the metro and wait at the stop two streets down.

Fourth, the bus drops you off a good seven-minute walk away from the café. Which you reckon isn’t a lot, you’re usually the kind of person that always walks if it’s less than a thirty-minute walk. But the rain starts then, just a small drizzle that doesn’t worry you all that much. It’s summer, so it’s warm anyway, and the drizzle is a good relief from the heat.

Fifth, the café is closed due to renovations, but another one a few blocks down the street took over their menu – of course the café knows how important it is to the university students, so it didn’t want to betray its loyal clientele. But that means a longer walk, yet it still doesn’t scare you.

Sixth and last, the drizzle turns into a full-on shower by the time you make it two blocks down, and you run the rest of the way, trying to avoid your designer clothes getting all wet. Which obviously doesn’t work, because you’re currently dripping on the floor of the coffee house, looking like a lost puppy in the rain.

You’re still adamant about the cappuccino. In fact, you crave it even more now – you’re going to need its warm comfort.

The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for a group of girls studying in one corner, though they seem like they’re gossiping more than anything else. They don’t look at you, and you don’t look at them, walking towards the counter.

There is no one behind it, and you glance at the double doors that probably lead to a kitchen or something of the sorts. What you miss then, is the surgical mask left on the floor by a careless client, and damn you the tiles of the coffee shop have been polished recently.

The moment you step on the mask you fly, and your back hitting the floor has you feeling far too dizzy for your own good. You shut your eyes for a few seconds, wincing in pain. When you open them again, you wonder if you hit your head.

If you hit your head real good and died, because someone’s kneeling next to you, and you’re pretty sure he’s the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your entire life. He’s got big doe eyes, a soft gaze that holds so much kindness you think he can only be an angel. Strangely, what your eyes focus on is the mole under his mouth though.

His lips move, distracting you from the mole, and you notice light glinting on a piercing before you realize he’s speaking. And he’s speaking to you, with a concern-filled voice.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

You blink a few times. “I think so.”

He helps you to sit up, and you’re painfully aware of his hands on you. They’re large, warm, and they hold you for a time, making sure you’re as okay as you say you are. His eyes don’t ever waver from yours once your gazes connect, and you’re pretty sure you’re hearing bells.

You are. It’s the bells from the door, and you let out an embarrassed chuckle as your eyes fall, and he moves his hands off of you to glance at the new client.

“Why don’t you sit while I take care of their order?” he suggests, motioning to the nearest empty table.

You blink again. “Oh.” You glance at the two guys that walked in, before nodding your head. “Yes, sure. Good idea.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. It has your pulse racing, in that good way you usually only see on a movie screen. Your gazes catch for a moment again, and it feels like the moment is stretching into its own little eternity.

Then the guy is helping you to stand, and you notice the sleeve of tattoos. They look out of place, on this sweet innocent-looking man, yet they fit perfectly. You gulp, before sitting at the table as he moves back behind the counter to serve the two customers.

His eyes keep darting to you. You know because each time he catches you already looking, and he sends you a small, secretive smile that has you think you have to know him from somewhere. The way he moves feels familiar, the stretch of his shoulders feels like you’ve seen it a thousand times before. You almost remember holding that large hand of his, almost remember the sound of his voice as he whispers against your skin…

You blush then, and your eyes obstinately fall to the table, boring a hole there.

You’ve never been a big romantic. Never believed in love at first sight… but when he puts your favourite cappuccino down in front of you, before sitting in the chair across from yours, you think maybe fate is just a series of coincidences.

“How did you know…” you trail off, motioning to the cup in front of you.

He smiles. “Intuition. I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Blush dusts your cheeks again. “Y/n.”

He nods, as if he knew anyway.

It’s no wonder you fall in love. No wonder the puzzle pieces meet and form art, because it was meant to be. At least that’s what you think the first time he kisses you, after a Narnia pub quiz date that had both of you sharing two pints of beer, because you both don’t want to leave after the first one. That’s what you think the first time he makes love to you, forehead pressed against yours as you breathe the same air and he tells you he thinks he knows you from a past life. That’s what you think when he makes you dance amongst the falling leaves a late October evening, and that’s what you think when he kisses the top of your head first thing when he wakes up on Christmas morning.

And a year later, when he proposes in that same café you were never supposed to go to, you think he’s your favourite coincidence as you say yes, yes to an eternity next to him. Because you know, you know now your life was just a series of coincidences, all of them leading to him.

[year2000electronics]

you should use this ask to talk about 1961 Otto :]{

YAAAY

so. all my favourite ocks have the arms be a sort of reflection of otto’s fatal flaw (with exception to olivia just bc we don’t really get to hear how or why she invented her arms)

- raimi otto’s arms appeal to his ego and hubris and convince him he couldn’t have been wrong

- spectacular otto’s arms give him the power he always craved to fight back against norman and become the bully instead of the bullied

- ps4 otto’s arms aren’t uniformly designed for the good of mankind, they’re designed for himself above all else and are just extensions of the selfish and paranoid person he’s become

and so on and so forth. so for MY otto, he’s a science teacher who was never able to settle down with anyone or have kids but he’s always REALLY wanted a family and that’s kinda why he puts up with the teaching job y’know? because all these kids are kinda like his kids, at least for a year or so. but at the end of the day they have their real guardians to go back to, and they all graduate eventually and stop visiting. so he kinda gets lonelier specifically because he won’t admit to himself that that’s what he’s doing (seeking out companionship).

so then peter parker comes along and he has him as a student for even longer than normal thanks to pete taking some early high school prep classes and he’s there for may when ben dies and everything, pete really sees him as a father figure and he’s pretty much become part of the family! but then peter’s senior year comes along. and that means he’s gonna have to graduate.

peter is struggling with this on his own, he doesn’t want everything to change and for him to lose the place that’s been his life for 4 years, little does he know otto is ALSO panicking because his basically-son is gonna graduate and move on and forget all about him!! and he’s freaking out. but again we see 1961 otto’s flaw of gaining something personally via hiding his intentions, he doesn’t want to tell peter and may that he sees them as family because what if they don’t see him like that? he just wants EVERYTHING TO STAY THE EXACT SAME WITH NO CHANGE SO HE FEELS IN CONTROL OF THE SITUATION.

but of course he keeps panicking and instead of the “risky” option of telling peter and may, he decides that “hey, if they leave and forget about me, then i can just make myself a backup! i’ll pour my heart and soul into making these robotic arms that i’ll SAY are for people who live alone who need extra help like the elderly, but are actually for me so i can simulate companionship!” (again, being duplicitous about what he wants by pretending it’s for a different reason than it actually is!) but of course, at the oscorp inventor’s expo he brings the arms to, he suffers a terrible accident and they get fused to him, ai and all

so obviously since otto’s greatest wish was for a family who he could control, when the arms gain sentience and start speaking to him (because come on i had to that’s such a great idea for the arms) it’s not in a “no inhibitor chip now i’m following their programming” way it’s a “hello dad it’s us, Your Children :)” way. the accident increased all of their violent tendencies by tenfold and made them all a bit cuckoo, so otto decides once he’s off of bed rest, that “hey! i know how i can stop peter’s graduation! he can’t graduate if the ceremony just never happens, right?!” (desperate actions of a control freak, you understand) so he attacks the graduation ceremony and peter has to save his classmates including flash. well, that plan failed, but y’know what? otto’s OTHER kids aren’t attacking him anyways! hmph! so he disappears into the night, becoming spider-man’s nemesis, doc ock

all of that was for the “graduation day” arc of my au, the rest of my au takes place after a timeskip when pete’s an adult working at the bugle! so when we zero back in on otto, we see he’s learned nothing and gotten even Worse. he starts his own villain team, the sinister six, but how he recruits each member is that they’re suffering, usually from their own backstory stuff, and he helps them back onto their feet so now they adore him and see him as their caretaker! and they’re all one big family, don’t you think? doc ock DEFINITELY ISNT LYING ABOUT WHY HE’S SAVING THESE SUPERVILLAINS AGAIN.

you can see that throughline in their recruitment order too, we go from electro to vulture to sandman, each who fell victim to horrific accidents or unethical experiments, then you have mysterio, whose only wound is his ego after he got fired, and then the final member is norman osborn himself, the green goblin, who was indirectly responsible for a lot of their backstories. but otto takes in norman saying “oh well he’s just like us, he’s wounded, we must turn the other cheek and take care of him” when really he knows norman is full of shit, doing this goblin thing for personal gain and is entirely in control of his actions, and is lying about it by pretending that it’s an “evil dark entity taking over me” situation. but norman has power and influence and otto needs that influence. also they have a bit of a weird gay thing. so otto plays along with norman’s ruse

ANYWAYS YEAH that’s my otto for you! his arc ends with my own version of superior spider man where otto finally realizes how terrible he’s been to peter and everyone around him by being forced to see the world through eyes that aren’t his :) he and peter make up by the time my miles morales arc starts. he’s such a weirdo i love him. he needs to get therapy!

[light-of-the-two-trees]

A draft scene from a long, daunting AU that I hope to one day fully write, in which Miriel survives to give birth to all five of Finwe's children (meaning they are full siblings), and Feanor is also the third of five children rather than the eldest, younger than Fingolfin.

(The happier timeline of two even for this AU, in which I don't make things play out just as they do in canon regardless of the changes as I want to in the sadder timeline. The birth order for the Finweans here is Findis (not so named), Fingolfin, Feanor, Lalwen and Finarfin, if anyone's curious). Scene features Feanor and Fingolfin reconciling after Fingolfin sails to Beleriand.

It was a shock seeing him standing there, despite expecting it fully. His brother was still dressed in all his royal finery like a stray piece of Aman that had neglected to blend into the grim darkness of Endórë. He looked every inch the High King of the Ñoldor — which Fëanáro distantly realised he was now — right from his swept-back hair to his impossibly clean boots. No blood stained his clothes, and the salt and sea-spray seemed to have marred them not — in fact, it seemed he'd even fixed his hair. Upon his gleaming dark hair sat Atar's crown, the silver circlet sparkling there as if it belonged nowhere else, and right then Fëanáro wanted nothing more than to rip it off, any damage to Ñolofinwë's perfectly styled hair be damned, and toss it into the ocean because it was just another reminder that their father was gone, and never going to return.

In stark contrast of course, Fëanáro was soot-stained, shivering, bleary-eyed from having stared at too many maps and records with nothing but lamplight, and not at all fit to be meeting any person, let alone a King — just like everyone else except for His Most Royal and Exalted Highness, so it did not bother him very much.

He stared at Ñolofinwë, waiting for him to announce his business.

'Should I sit?'

Fëanáro pointed to a chair, and Ñolofinwë sat. Then, without asking, he reached out for a metal cup and jug by the chair, filled the cup with water from the jug, and took a long swig from it.

After that, he sat there and did nothing but stare the cup or into the middle distance for some time.

'Why are you here?' Fëanáro asked at last, when the silence and expectant staring grew unbearable. Ñolofinwë looked up from his long-since-emptied cup, and sighed.

'I was here to ask if you're alright.'

Was he alright? Fëanáro did not know, nor did he understand why Ñolofinwë might have been asking. But he wasn't not alright, as far as he knew, so he said, 'Yes, I'm alright.'

Ñolofinwë nodded, and turned back to the cup.

Fëanáro decided to pretend that his brother was no longer there, and went back to the map that Círdan's people had given him.

Some more time passed.

Then, at last, Ñolofinwë broke the silence. 'Why were you going to burn the ships?'

It wasn't at all a considered movement when Fëanáro turned around. snatched the cup from Ñolofinwë's unresisting hands, and threw it to the ground furiously. He even took a moment to stare at the cup and then his hand in bewilderment before crying, 'Why did you conspire to have me killed, then, brother? Answer this first!'

Ñolofinwë had gone very still again. After a moment, he breathed, stood up slowly, and picked the cup up from where it lay before placing it down gently upon Fëanáro's desk. His face looked hard and cold. 'Who told you that?' he asked evenly.

'It takes no Loremaster to figure out your designs,' Fëanáro snapped back. 'You wanted to have me sent to Lórien. Your intentions could not be any clearer.'

Ñolofinwë let out one of his long, beleaguered sighs. 'I will admit, Fëanáro, that I was asking Atar to convince you to visit Lórien. But my aim was never to kill you — I can't see how you would even imagine that from such an innocuous suggestion.'

'You do not send people to Lórien simply for a holiday.'

'But what of comfort, and counsel? Those are the reasons for which most people visit Lórien!' Ñolofinwë's voice rose a little, and he pushed it back down into his courtly, even tones. 'You were...I am not sure how to put it, Fëanáro, but you scared us during those last days. We did not wish for you to be suffering.'

Fëanáro shook his head. 'I was quite well all throughout,' he insisted, though his mind flashed back traitorously to the awful headaches, the exhaustion, the constant worry at the back of his mind as to whether the Silmarilli were safe and well. 'If you wished for me to depart for Mandos, you need not have arranged a route via Lórien. A knife to the heart would have—'

'Stop!' Ñolofinwë cut in sharply. 'Do not speak of killing, Fëanáro — I do not care to hear it, and especially not so callously. And tell me, please tell me, why do you think sending — not even sending, but suggesting you to go to Lórien, would be anything other than a suggestion for seeking advice and rest? Why would it ever be done to kill you? I don't understand!'

Another heavy, oppressive silence hung in the air.

Then Fëanáro cleared his throat and whispered, 'Ammë went to Lórien.'

Ñolofinwë's face went ashen, and he fell back into his chair. 'Oh. Oh, Fëanáro...'

'It was the only way you would know to kill.'

As suddenly as he'd sat down, Ñolofinwë stood up again and pulled Fëanáro into a tight embrace.

Fëanáro let him pull him close, unresisting — it felt like being young again, when being held by a parent or sibling was enough to drive away any fear, no matter how awful. 'I had never meant it that way, Fëanáro,' murmured Ñolofinwë. 'Lórien does not...I didn't know you thought...I wouldn't...'

'Truly?' asked Fëanáro, moving away. His mind went back to the overheard conversation, the rumours about something dark in Lórien. Where had he heard it? From his sons? Who'd heard it from...whom? Had he asked them, or simply believed it, since it had made good sense at the time?

Moringotto... of course. Curse Moringotto a thousand times over!

'Yes, truly,' said Ñolofinwë, earnestly. 'And I am sure the business with the swords was much the same, wasn't it? I'd heard whispers of your 'madness', though I do not remember where they came from...'

'I was wearing two swords that day, you know. I'd brought one for you,' Fëanáro admitted quietly. 'A gift of reconciliation.' That sword was still unbloodied, unlike his own, lying under this very desk, in fact. 'You must have heard the same sorts of things — that I hated you enough, was mad enough, as they put it, to wish you dead.' He'd never wished it, he knew, never had. Even with the flaming torch in his hands, ready to toss, he'd only hoped his brother would turn back and go home, as Arafinwë had.

He did not want to think about what might have happened had he set the ships aflame.

'Moringotto,' said Ñolofinwë, having drawn the same conclusions. 'I'm going to kill him.'

'I am,' Fëanáro retorted. It felt so wonderfully banal, nothing but a pointless, teasing argument with his elder brother only for the sake of it, that his lips stretched into a smile, after what must have been months.

'We could do it together,' Ñolofinwë suggested. The ice had already melted from his eyes and face. 'With both of us, I doubt he'd stand a chance.'

Fëanáro snorted. 'You're right, but you don't even — wait, no, you do.' He crouched down upon the floor, and felt around in the dark recesses under the travelling desk before pulling out an intricate scabbard, from which a silvery-dark hilt gleamed. He stood up, and handed the sheathed blade hilt-first to Ñolofinwë.

'Is it the one you were going to...'

'The very same,' replied Fëanáro. 'I'll make better ones once we have the proper facilities, of course. Some of the people around — I'll tell you all about them soon enough, and their highly fascinating language — mentioned all sorts of interesting metals that might be made into useful alloys. But until then, you'll at least have an actual weapon apart from your formidable anger to go against Moringotto with.'

Ñolofinwë smiled, and pulled the sword from its sheath, admiring the gleam of the pale blue-white lamplight upon its sharp blade. 'Thank you.'

'Don't...don't thank me like that.' Fëanáro took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts. 'Should we try to put this behind us, if we can? Please?'

His brother nodded at once, and Fëanáro felt a crushing weight lift from his shoulders. His back straightened, and for the first time in so long that he could not quite pinpoint when and where it had begun, the gaping wound between Fëanáro and his brother felt like it was coming a little closer to healing over.

[dandylovesturtles]

Also I feel like you might have mentioned this before but I can't remember, in World Away, how quickly does Donnie establish a "lab"?

Does he still build a battle shell and tech-bo? Does he invent Shelldon? What about the Tank?

Also now wondering what his encounter with the Purple Dragons would be or is like, if he runs into them at all in this AU.

It takes him a little while, probably the better part of a year before he really gets a space you could consider a "lab". Donnie's still a genius, but his knowledge of tech prior to escaping was largely situational. He worked out how to use a computer and some programming basics from watching the scientists, he's worked out some basics of circuits by messing with the security measures around his enclosure, he's figured out some basics of physics just from pure observation and understanding of the world, but he's got a lot of gaps in his knowledge that he'll have to catch up on. Of course, as soon as he's free, April starts bringing him books from the library and eventually sets him up with a computer so he can study on his own and he covers ground really fast. It will take him until he's a few years older to catch up to canon Donnie but he moves fast.

He also has a tendency to take apart literally any device Splinter brings into the lair, and at some point Splinter decides it would be better to give him a space to play so there aren't exposed wires and screws and gears everywhere. He's not allowed to lock the door, and Splinter is a lot more diligent about checking up on him throughout the day, to make sure he hasn't hurt himself and is remembering to eat.

(In general Splinter is a lot more attentive in this AU than in canon - having his kids stolen right out from under his nose did a lot for his character development off screen.)

I kind of like the idea that 100ft Donnie actually doesn't build battle shells - after so long with his shell exposed I think he would find it a bit constricting. He does still build himself wearables that he can use for different purposes, including jetpacks and spider arms, they just connect to his body with more of an exoskeleton type design than a shell.

He will absolutely make his baby the tech-bo, the second his dad hands him that normal wooden bo he'll go "haha no thanks" and make his own. It'll take him awhile to get it right, though. And he'll definitely make Shelldon eventually, we can't leave his son out!

The tank is my favorite thing that Donnie has made so I'd hate to not have it... I think it just takes longer. Plus the kids aren't obsessed with Jupiter Jim right away anyway. They will be soon enough, basically the first time Leo sees one of the movies on TV it's over, but the moon buggy isn't something he'd recognize right away so he'd have to find it later.

Thinking of how the Purple Dragons could come into play IS interesting! I don't think they'd be classmates of April's in the universe, but still teenagers. Maybe in this timeline they meet Donnie while they're in the middle of their own heist and Donnie, attempting to get something for a project, just happens to run into him? He'd likely still be enchanted by the jackets, though, but I think he would just try to steal one haha.

They think he's some kind of weird gremlin and they don't understand how he keeps messing up their tech.

[glorifiedpigeon]

Mako Island except they're french now—

I actually did think about this au a little bit! While Marinette has the ability to manipulate water into shapes and things, Alya has the power to boil water and Kagami has the power to freeze water. They're not based off the original H2O girls themselves, but I thought the powers fit their vibes pretty well.

I imagine Marinette just wants to forget about all the mermaid stuff. It's stressful! Ya girl just wants to design clothes and help her parents bake! She doesn't want to have to worry about this big mermaid secret, or like the government coming after her, or people experimenting on her! That's a lot!

Kagami loves her new tail. Screw you Mom, I'm gonna go swim in the ocean and abandon my land life, except for the parts where I wanna spend time with my land friends. Of course living underwater indefinitely is... well, there's a lot to figure out and Kagami isn't sure she's down for that. But at least swimming is an easy get away!

Alya is obsessed with the way the mer stuff works. She does a lot of experimenting with her powers, testing the limits. After the first full moon, she also does a lot of limit testing for that too, trying to see what all she can still manage to do on the night of the full moon.

The first person to find out about their tails is definitely Nino, and Marinette freaks out about it and makes him swear to silence. Nino ends up using them to get cool underwater footage for him with his underwater camera, since they can dive longer than he can. He also helps Alya experiment with her powers and keeps notes for her. He keeps suggesting they bring more friends in on the secret but Marinette keeps panicking about it and Kagami insists no one can know about her secret escape from her mom's pressure.

[paytato435]

Snapper and Stinkpot Character Ref: Casey Junior!

Oh look, the main character appeared! Info dump about Casey under the cut!

Casey Jones Junior - 16, he/him

Birthday: November 23rd (Sagittarius)

Casey is trying his best to adjust to his new life after stopping the Krang invasion, but he has a few wrinkles to iron out before he can sleep soundly at night. Most notably, he hasn’t told his family that he’s also a mutant turtle, and now he’s been blackmailed. Yikes! Wait why would he hide that, that’s so cool?

Some head canons I have about Casey for this au: Knows sign language! Donnie is the only other turtle proficient with it in the family, but maybe it will be useful somehow? Casey also has a bad habit of confusing the younger turtles with their future counterparts, and is often disappointed by the way they act or their lack of experience in dangerous situations.

Despite all his troubles, Casey puts his family before everything else, and would do anything to keep them safe and happy.

Songs that remind me of Casey: Tomorrow Comes Today by Gorillaz (I’m very funny), Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit, and Cover of Me by SUGR?

Casey’s design: Imma be honest, his apocalypse outfit in the movie is trash, I only kept the parts I really liked; his knee pads, hockey stick chainsaw, and face mask. Coming from such a dangerous upbringing, I figured he probably has the scars to show for it, and pretty early in the story it’s established he has a hard time looking at the scars on his legs. So unless it’s otherwise stated, this boy wears leggings under his shorts, lmao. Of course he rocks the man bun occasionally, and even a ponytail in my sidewalk comic. He’s a practical boy. <3

The jersey is a reference to Leo, who also has his own #1 jersey. Gave it longer sleeves to be more hockey/ football shaped over the basketball cut tho. I had an earlier design with him in a tank top and I just don’t vibe with it that much now. His number is 6 because 4 turtles + April + Casey jr. = 6. Finally, we have his red boots. I stole them from Deku in MHA, and they look fucking good on his turtle form, which I will be posting very soon!

And uhh, just in case the totally normal jpeg above isn’t working for you, here’s the picture again. I don’t know why it would be broken but like, idk… I just feel like things haven’t been appearing the way I thought they should lately 🤷‍♀️

P.S. if anyone knows if there are any references for human feet in Rise please let me know or send me some because I totally just threw those piggies out there and had no intention of looking for something so suspiciously specific. 😳

Masterpost Turtle Casey? Angel’s Reference sheet! Sunshine's reference sheet!

[cj-the-random-artist]

Made some designs for that AU I mentioned, here's all the folks who in the AU live outside of town and also Katherine Elizabeth because she's gonna show up in one of the things I've got planned out. Some design notes:

Impulse, in this AU, would be half-dwarf and half-human. He's a blacksmith, living outside of town with Skizz. I wanted his clothes to be sturdy-looking and to actually resemble clothes that a blacksmith would wear. Under his gloves, on his right wrist, he's got that hardcore heart tattoo (matching Skizz's) that I've put on his design anyways for a while just cuz I'm attached to it.

Skizz, of course, has to have no sleeves and all that. I wanted him to keep his glorious wonderful hair, but it's ponytailed so it's out of the way. He's also been blessed by the fae folk with a silver tongue, so his tongue is actually silver (not made of silver but colored silver. Cuz it's neat). Also I gave Skizz (and a lot of the others) little sidebags because I feel like that would be a convenient thing for them to have.

Gem is an elven alchemist, I wanted her to have a functional outfit that also had an almost dress-ish silhouette, just because. I think I like the colors?? I might dial back the pink but it's gotta stay pink for complimentary. Also she gets a long poofy bubble braid as a reference to her Empires season 1 hair.

Pearl is a former high priestess for a goddess (also named Pearl) whose following has disbanded, that's where the sunflower tattoo comes from (also I plan to put Sausage in this AU and he has one too). Other than that, I figured she'd take up organization and such as a job post high priestess occupation, so I wanted her to be functional in what she wears. She probably works in the castle, but doesn't live there.

Tango, in this AU, is half-elven, a quarter human, and a quarter fire sprite. When he's not ranching with Jimmy, he's tinkering and making stuff to share with Zedaph and Impulse. Honestly he's not too different from how I draw him normally lol.

Jimmy is a tiny bit fae, which doesn't really mean anything for his appearance other than that his pupils reflect light. Mostly wanted him to just be functional as well, because he's the other half of the ranchers and he's gotta be in functional shape to take care of the cows, chickens, horses, and their singular unicorn.

Zed I made into a satyr / faun (sheep man) again (since that's no longer my default for him I may as well use it here), he's a tinkerer as well who lives in a cave and vibes most of the time. Every now and then he wanders out and shows everyone the stuff he's made, but mostly he's just vibing.

Katherine, in this AU, is a travelling monster hunter (probably also blessed by the faes), and while she doesn't necessarily live around the town or anything, she passes through every now and again to pick up supplies and hunt monsters. She would generally carry two axes, one silver and one gold (for fighting different monsters- silver is most effective against some and gold for others), but I figure for her first introduction she doesn't have her gold axe due to losing a bet. I based her outfit on her monster hunter look from Empires season 2.

Anyways! Random design thoughts and tidbits for y'all. I've got comic ideas which I'm gonna start on soon, but that said, please enjoy these for now! :D

[localsharkcryptid]

Would love to hear both about your cPunz & cPurpled headcanon lore AND your cPurpled joins the sindicate au :D

Anon, you have opened a DOOR and I thank you cause I've been needing an excuse to talk about my thoughts!

Imma try and summarize here but either way this will probably be lengthy - so fair warning on that ^^ (also this is like... So very much based on headcanons that got out of control cause cPurpled has next to nothing going on lore wise till Las Nevadas and I wanted to flesh him out)

I also feel like it's good to note that my Purpled design plays into the alien vibe, bros got four arms, some extra eyes, antenna, the whole shebang - but anyways.

---

For the background headcanons, it is more so a thing for Purpled, cause yeah it would be funny to say he really is just a bit of an angsty teenager who wants to be left alone but also consider what if he was a bit fucked up. My idea is that due to also being a mercenary (of sorts) Purpled has more recently been experiencing freedom so to speak, till the smp he had been raised up to be a mercenary - raised and trained as a living weapon and only now is he kinda out on his own. Punz has a similar origin but that was years ago for them, they aren't bothered and have long since adapted to their lifestyle of mercenary work.

The dynamic of the two is somewhat brotherly on the surface, but it's more so of an apprentice situation. Purpled was picked out of a crowd to be further trained out in the real world by Punz, their relationship is not particularly healthy in any manner and is far from a sibling bond. Purpled came to the SMP with Punz but due to a stagnation in work on the server Purpled is somewhat left to his own devices, though Punz checks in here and there and they do have semi-regular training sessions. After all Punz does take his job as a mentor somewhat seriously.

I'm still working on actually figuring out the environment that Purpled was raised in, since a lot of what he went through effects his character/gives some reasoning for some behaviors as well as fuels my other headcanons, but yeah uh not a very poggers early teenhood.

---

As for the Purpled joins the syndicate au, would love to get an official sort of name for it, it uses a lot of my headcanons as a base and namely the background stuff! It's a storyline that would eventually really dive into my interpretation of Purpled and his thought processes as he finally gets into a situation where he can heal from the environment he was raised in.

It's rather canon divergent, being post prison break and basically, due to a turn of events Purpled ends up effectively "saving" Tommy from Dream and this leads to Golden Duo getting help from Phil and Techno, Tommy basically doesn't know where else to go and defactos to finding Phil- Purpled sticks with him due to the fact that Punz has more or less brought him into their & Dream's plans as a 'failsafe' of sorts - so Purpled briefly scrapping with Dream and interfering certainly isn't going to go over well and Purpled would much rather to just avoid whatever would come out of that consequence wise.

So not only are Golden Duo forced to deal with eachother, they now also are staying at the commune for a bit. They have some fun interactions and exchanges during this but my Golden Duo thoughts are for another day. Tommy does eventually leave, but Purpled sticks around for a bit longer - despite his denial of any assistance and consistent "I don't need your help" statements.

This eventually segways into a little mission to go get Dogchamp from his base, since while Purpled isn't opening up about it Techno and Phil can both kinda tell that the kid doesn't want to go back to the general SMP for some reason. So of course once worries of his dog are mentioned Techno makes the offer to go help get Dogchamp and to bring him back to the commune since he understands the value of a good animal companion.

Purpled of course tries to say that he doesn't need help, unfortunately for Purpled Technoblade does not care and can see through his angsty "I don't need anyone's help," bs.

So they go get Dogchamp, during this Techno probably does some prodding and questioning to try and get some details outta the alien, this doesn't really work but my idea is that Purpled makes an offhanded comment about being trained to be an effective living weapon of a mercenary. This offhanded comment seals his fate pretty much, cause by the gods does Techno understand that treatment wayyy to well. So an offer is given for Purpled to join the book club, and well, the syndicate gains another member after some time - even if said member is a bit walled off, he's a member none the less.

I still don't have a code-name for Purpled but that's kinda how the whole thing starts, I have additional notes but I'll save em for now since this is a long enough post as it is- but yeah, it's a silly little concept that I really do like and hopefully I can do something with it at some point.

[hiccupbutpurple]

I’m trying to settle on a design for a new au and auuggg it’s so AAAAA

anyways the au does have some of the Trio so I thought I’d share:) (details aren’t final. Perhaps some brainstorming and thoughts could get the juices working.)

Viggo’ and Hiccup are both marine biologists that study wild magical folk that live in the ocean (kinda hinted by the name) and as such, Viggo’s other close friend (Krogan) Who is usually the one that brings them out to the area that helps them study the merfolk via boat is occasionally tardy (no one knows why, Viggo just assumes Krogan has other things he is doing and gets caught up in doing them, typical nonsense that Krogan does like paint and whatever; He’s not going to dock Krogan’s pay because he usually just shows up anyways a bit later than expected; often a bit damp, but it doesn’t matter since they’re going out to sea anyways and Krogan has mentioned he likes swimming offhandedly.)

Admittedly, the three are kind of in a relationship? Hiccup and Viggo are confirmed together, Krogan on the other hand is *technically* part of it in a polyamorous sense but he’s very shy around Hiccup romantically since he’s more used to Viggo.

It is on one day that they go out towards nightfall because Krogan wanted to come clean to them about some secret, and it’s that he’s actually like 75% siren… since his parents were hybrids as well, though he was abandoned on land and actually prefers it on land. Viggo and Hiccup are intrigued, of course; but they figure this should be kept quiet because again, Krogan might have a good reason to keep it from them. (And a bit of self consciousness surrounding it… one’s that they could potentially alleviate a little for him.)

Ooooo yeah that’s so cool!! Also his hairrrrr eidnsisjsisj yeysysysysysyssy!!!

Okay okay okay so merfolk are one of those things I’ve loved for so long (despite doing very little research into them) one of my first httyd AU’s when I was like a little kid was Ruffnut being a mermaid lol!

Usually I’m someone that loves a little forced reveal but I think in this context Krogan telling them is the best option because it shows he trusts them which is powerful when it comes to him! I’m thinking about both Viggo and Hiccup rushing around trying to research (and having little study sessions together trying to find out more) before giving up and just bombarding him with questions (alternatively Krogan walks in on them surrounded by books and many devices with a bunch of tabs open). They didn’t want to be overly invasive (well Hiccup didn’t, Viggo is probably okay with just asking but Hiccup tries to force him into a more delicate route). The drama of their employers (if they have any, or other wider research teams/those safety check people/etc) finding out and them having to work to protect him (maybe Drago is like the guy in charge of a certain operation they’ve been hired to do) could also be cool.

I can see him being a bit of the mix between seductive and terrifying siren which I honestly think ur art perfectly captures - with stuff like the graceful fins and the sharp claws! I like in the second design how the little front fin things (idk what they are actually called) are a bit shorter cause I think it carries that subtle danger while still being quite elegant but the longer ones are still cool and a bit more - weaponised isn’t the exact word but I’m not sure what other word fits better lol.

Also lol now I’m thinking about him serenading the others, especially Viggo joining in since Alfred Molina has done singing in theatre before! Maybe he would have some fears about luring in the others by accident, or even some worries that they only like him because of some unconscious luring and if he is to reveal the real him (both in being part siren and opening if up in other ways) to them, then it would be like sirens unveiling their disguises to sailors (and telling Hiccup and Viggo about himself technically could also put them in actual danger like those sailors or he thinks would drag them down with him- to the metaphorical bottom of the sea lol) - which of course Viggo and Hiccup know is ridiculous!

I feel like Hiccup especially would probably try to make an invention or try and find magic that lets him adventure the seas to see the world Krogan does, which Viggo would definitely encourage and help with. (Lol Hiccup just gets one of those fake mermaid tail things, a snorkeling set and rocks up to their meeting like ‘hey guess what, now we can match’ and Krogan and Viggo just stare blankly at him dhejsisj - nah Viggo would join in after some encouragement I think - I think it would also be funny if it’s just the most fake looking thing ever too cause that’s all Hiccup could find and afford, Krogan is just downright disgusted by it)

Also the painting thing, I’m just seeing him painting little rocks and stuff and them turning up in their shared spaces or bags - Hiccup doing the sketches and line art and Krogan painting them later!

Okay I think that’s about all the ideas I’ve got, hopefully it’s a little helpful or gives your brain a boost lol!!

[cerenemuxse]

Bold of you to assume I wouldn't do a monster engine and bold of you to assume that the first vic- engine wouldn't be Edward. /j

Inspired by the aus of @ohjeeztrains and @gummybuggy

Monster engines are so damn cool.

I mixed in a bunch of animals because I said, "Fuck it. Hybrids ftw." It's so random. I chose dogs, horses, and rhinos. Yes, rhinos. I was going to add horns and I just realized I forgot but you know what, I think its fine like this. I tried fitting on horns earlier but it failed. It looks really odd. The specific breeds I chose for Edward originate from Scotland, because of course I go that deep. 💀💀💀💀

So he's based on the Clydesdale horses, the Gordon Setter dogs, the common rhinos, and the bull horns were from the Highland bulls. Can't do anything without wanting to do research.

The "leaders" (leading wheels) are based on rhinos and the "drivers" (driving wheels) are a combination of horses back legs and the dog paws. I was originally going to make them just horse legs but I started thinking about Emily, who would have "trailers" (trailing wheels). I really want them to be able to kick back but I'm not sure about Emily. Maybe she could kick forward like kangaroos. 💀 Girl stands on her damn trailers and her drivers kick forward, because that's where the power really is. Or she can do both.

I really took in the fighting aspect of it, simply because I find it interesting and it might be something they do more often than their engine counterparts, considering they're (basically) animals. They are slightly easier to tick off. Edward has a pretty good tolerance compared to the others. Basically, start biting or swatting at him and he won't be mad initially. But the longer the biting and swatting goes, the more he gets mad. He'll attack suddenly with a minor warning, which is low growling.

The long tail of nothing but hair looks harmless but its actually used a lot in fighting, too. It's pretty damn heavy so with enough force, it enough to knock another engine over. The ones with the long tails will also cuddle with said tails during the cold seasons or allow the Tank Iron Horse (oh yeah, they're called Iron Horses because why not) to cuddle into them. So now that i mention the name, let me explain it. Iron Horses refers to steam engines only. There's two main types of them: Tank and Tender. Tank Iron Horses have much thinner tails and tend to be small. If they're a Tender-Tank Iron Horse, it's definitely longer but not as thick as the Tender Iron Horses' tails. There's two forms. Regular engine forms, which existed first, and the Iron Horse forms. The Iron Horse forms were extremely unexpected when steam engines began running on railways. It's weird how they work. They can eat many things. Every single one of them is chunky as hell because I said so. They have cat-like instincts and all sorts of different species mixed in, which makes them weirder. Edward will squawk like a seagull. I might actually give him feathers, which i was debating but completely forgot. 🤡 Arthur probably has some mouse aspects to him as his class was nicknamed "Mickey Mouse Tanks." Rebecca could get swirly tail because her class is nicknamed "Spam cans," referring the cans "SPAM" is sold in, which is made of pork. Those tiny details. And I told myself I wouldn't let myself get so invested.

For other engines, I haven't figured it out.

Oh, and the "man-bun" is just the funnel. It slops up like Spencer's funnel does but depending on the height of the funnels, the slope is different.I think that's it. This was all improvised because damn it, this wouldn't leave my thoughts.

Not important, but the "NWR" logo was taken from James' ref sheets because I did not feel like drawing it. The 2 wasn't. I may have reference Edward's old ref sheets but the font is different to the one I chose for the engines. I also erased those layers so I don't even have access to it. Speaking of said design, this is the final palette for Edward's 1992-1995 rebuild. I also got brass wrong. Its not the same as Edward's eye color. Its much more yellow and it looks green when next to green colors.

I want to talk more about it but it'll start diverging into other characters and this post is already getting long. I don't like making posts long. ;-;

[mostdefinitelyahumanperson]

Lore Bits and HCs for my Magical Girls AU because I have Severe Brain Worsm

under the cut because it's a looooong boi (also not super organised or structured. oOpsie-daisy)

tl;dr : a ragtag found family (they're autistic and trans) find themselves battling space-cops with their newly acquired elemental powers because some autistic robot wanted to LARP as Its favorite anime

Zane

It's an alien-robot thingy from space

Like canon! Zane, It uses an hologram to appear human

Even by alien-robot standard, It's autistic

It became fascinated and enamoured with humans and Magical Girls so much that It revealed Itself to a few humans and gave them elemental abilities to create Its own Magical Girls team (that's what happens when the 'tism wins i guess)

It doesn't care that "Magical Girls" is supposed to be a gendered term 🤷🏼

Revealing Itself to humans is an alien crime, so now It's on the run

Most of the threats the Team fights is literally just alien-robot cops coming after It

Prefers It/Its pronouns, but because bigots use those maliciously, It only uses them with Its close friends. With everyone else, It prefers they/them slightly, but is mostly apathetic

Doesn't know how old It is in Earth year, but knows It's a young adult by Its specie's standard

AroAce, in a queerplatonic relationship with Cole and Kai

Very Tall (6'4'')

Dresses very conservatively, has an impressive collection of beige sweaters. Pants are always clean ??? (weirdo)

Cole

First human turned Magical. Earth powers.

When Zane first arrived on Earth, It was lost and confused, and Cole helped It. That's how they met, and that's why Zane decided Cole has "the pure heart of a Magical Girl"

He was houseless when he first met Zane, they now have an apartment together

He's the oldest (25) and as such fills the role of big brother to the group

Gives very good advice, such as "most crimes are morally correct" and "punch nazis always" and "never talk to cops"

A source of emotional stability for the others, great at co-regulation, very chill

Living happily and healthily, and caring for his community, is his greatest protest

Used to have a shit relationship with his dad, but now it's better, which puts him in the perfect position to support Kai, Nya, and Llorie, who all have shit relationships with their parents

Draws very well, designed all of his tattoos

Tattoos are : Earth Dragon (right arm), Energy Dragon, Water Dragon, Lightning Dragon, Fire Dragon, Ice Dragon (all on left arm), Mountain Landscape (back), White Lily, Music Notes (both over his heart), Piece of Cake (right buttcheek), Pink Crystals (both legs), Mouth with Tongue Out (right inner thigh), there's probably more but I'm out of ideas 🤷🏼

High as a kite 24/7. He uses it as medication for his chronic anxiety and sensory issues

Autistic <3

Special interests include : music history, music theory, just music in general actually, philosophy, baking, geology, and vintage technology, especially retro gaming. he's such a loser <3 (compliment)

Very good baker, makes insane edibles

Dresses punk, but musically prefers prog rock because he's a tasteless nerd (also listens to punk, of course, other types of rock, metal, and some subgenres of dubstep)

Yellow and purple shoelaces

Very Tall (6'2'')

Besties with Nya (mlm and wlw solidarity)

Romantically gay, asexual, transmasc

He was on testosterone for a bit, he no longer is as he is happy with the androgynous in-between he's reached. Doesn't want any kind of surgeries

In a queerplatonic relationship with Zane and a romantic relationship with Kai

Kai

Met Zane through Cole

Got turned Magical because Zane figured he'd enjoy it (It was correct)

Resident Himbo. Not a single thought behind those eyes.

Had started apprenticeship at father's forge, but relational conflicts made him leave

He has a horrible relationship with his father, and *very* mid with his mother

Pays for Nya's college education by participating in a shady underground fight ring, The Slither Pit. wins a lot, makes good money

Also has a successful OnlyFans

Has a bit of a drinking problem, but he's working on it (it used to be much worse)

Autistic and ADHD <3

Special interests include : footwear, hockey, hip-hop, metallurgy, glass art, kinesiology (I don't know, man, he's a sport nerd or whatever), hot peppers and hot sauce

Crop tops, tank tops that show off side boobs, booty shorts, grey sweatpants, high-waisted pants, fire prints, red, varsity jackets. Vaguely retro vibe, with the most 90's hair possible (too much hair gel and frosted tips)

24 years old

5'6''

Bisexual, demi-romantic, transmasc

On testosterone, has had top surgery

In a queerplatonic relationship with Zane and a romantic relationship with Cole

Nya

She got turned Magical because Kai, Jay and Cole nagged Zane non-stop until It agreed to Magic-ify her. Kai was ecstatic when she ended up getting water powers (he thinks sibling having opposite powers is Very Cool™️)

Her initial reaction to the turning was to be fucking pissed. That's her initial reaction to anything that stresses her out. Once she got over the weirdness of the whole some-alien-robot-guy-turned-me-into-a-fuckin-magical-girl thing, she ended up embracing it the most out of all of them, she's practically a vigilante at this point

She can fight even better than Kai, as martial art is one of her favorite way of releasing stress

Along with fixing cars

And since she has a LOT of stress to release, she's very good at both of those things

Special interests include : machines, especially cars (her main one), Journey to the West, Queer history, apes (her favorites are chimpanzees), She-Ra and He-Man

Autistic <3

High-masking. It's giving her autistic burnout, so she's been trying really hard to learn to unmask. Her friendship with Cole and relationship with Jay play a big role in her unmasking journey, as they show to her that she can be safe and secure while being herself

Burned out, but she won't let herself rest :/

She's a double-major, engineering and gender studies

She has a terrible relationship with her mother, and very mid relationship with her father

Besties with Cole (wlw and mlm solidarity)

They have similar taste in music (rock, prog, punk, metal). They like shopping for vinyls together

She's a coffee snob. Annoying about it.

Really sappy cheesy lovey-dovey when alone with Jay, but more friend-like when they're with other people (she doesn't like broadcasting her softer side to the world)

Cargo pants, muscle tees, tank tops, leather jackets, distressed denim, steel-toed boots, army surplus, navy blue, army green, black and grey, camo print

Hair up in ponytail or bun always, for sensory reasons

22 years old

5'8''

Butch bi-lesbian trans woman

On estrogen and progesterone, doesn't want surgeries

In a romantic relationship with Jay

Jay

Zane turned spark Magical because spark was infodumping about anime and how much spark'd love to have cool powers

Is the only one on the team who can fly, Zane has no idea how that happened

Cannot stand still, cannot shut up. the AuDHD is strong with this one

Special interests include Sci-Fi, especially space stuff, Starfarer being spark absolute favorite franchise, Magical Girls anime, anime in general actually, machines, video games, snakes, chicken husbandry, animation

Engineering major. That's how spark met Nya

Wanted to also major in theater, but a double-major was way to much for spark

Is in an improv team instead, as a hobie

Spark's a very talented drag performer. makes costumes sparkself. Drag-sona is a genderless alien named Zap, uses zap/zapself pronouns

Favorite music genre is ~computer noises~

Drinks way too much pink monster. Collects limited edition cans

Has not only accepted, but embraced the cringe 😌

A furry, made spark's fursuit. Cole drew the design

Dresses like if arcade carpeting and techno-unicorn had a baby

23 years old

5'4''

Panromantic, demi-sexual

In a romantic relationship with Nya

Llorie

She's the baby of the group. She got turned because Zane needed a "chosen one" for Its fantasy scenario

She's not *actually* chosen for anything, but she plays along because she's just happy to be here

Going through the Magical Girl transformation SHATTERED her egg

She graduated from Darkley's, an expensive boys-only boarding school. She's just starting college, majoring in (uuh, I don't know yet. Is veterinary a major ??? I've never been to school.)

When in her magical form, she has non-human features, such as golden horns, fangs, a green scaly tail, pointy ears, and claws

Dysphoria hoodie, always. She's had it since she was 10 (it's running small, but she's very emotionally attached to it)

Her parents are both stinking rich, and emotionally neglectful. Her dad is a weapon magnate, her mom's a world renowned archeologist (that's a plot hole. archeologists aren't usually stinking rich ??? whatev's). They stuck her in Darkley's and pretty much forgot about her. She hasn't come out to them yet, but she's out to her uncle Wu, who was the only family member actually there for her throughout her life

She's autistic <3

She met the group because Nya can spot a baby trans from a mile away, and immediately entered big sister mode. Nya's been helping her navigate the early stages of transition, offered her an understanding ear, gave her advice. They're practically sisters at this point. Naturally, the rest of the group also adopted Llorie.

Special interest include Starfarer (duh), plushies, fishes, especially sharks, mythology/legends/folklore/fairytales

*skirt goes spinny*

18 years old

5'2'' (she's itty-bitty)

She's still trying to figure out her sexuality, but she highly suspects she's on the aro and ace spectrums. Trans girl.

[kyojimi]

My eyes are being mean smh but that won't stop me from writing Coralie BSD au -- "Moo Moo have you seen Karl? Is he with Ranpo? I can't find him anywhere- Oh I'm so worried." Poe said with a panicked voice, Mushitaro knows that Karl, the raccoon means the world to Poe. It's his first-ever friend, the one that gave him company and comfort whenever the author was down or in a terrible state. Usually, Karl ended up with Ranpo but Ranpo always left a note stating that Karl was with him. This time there doesn't appear to be a note in sight, "I'm sure Karl is around here somewhere, alright? We will find him. Give Ranpo a call or message- and stop calling me that ridiculous nickname." He complained, damn that detective for calling him that all of the time, now Poe's picked it up.

The author inhales and then exhales, trying to calm himself. "O-Okay, I'll call him," He turns away from Mushitaro. The cat-shifter hummed, stretching his arms in the air with a yawn, Shifting his attention from Poe's figure, he peered out the window. Surprisingly it's a good day rather than the usual rain that attacks the window, the latest storm was awful. Mushitaro swore that it would've taken out the glass if it had continued on for any longer but Poe replied with 'If that ever happens, I will get them replaced or replace them myself.' This reminds Mushitaro that the author has the ability to design and build. He often forgets that he isn't just an author but an architect too..

After a couple of minutes Poe returns from his phone call. Looking at Mushitaro with a look of defeat, it's clear just by that expression, Karl isn't with Ranpo then. Did the detective even pick up? Surely, when it comes to Ranpo, the male always picks up because he's usually slacking. “What's up?” The cat-shifter asked, leaning against the counter behind him.

“Karl isn't with him. I-I have no idea where he could be, I'm worried, what if he ran away?” Oh no. He could hear the shakiness in the author's voice, Mushitaro was upright in seconds. Pulling the other man into his arms to comfort him. “Hey, we'll find Karl alright? Let's go take a look around the neighbourhood, he's your raccoon, he'll never up and leave you.” He hoped he didn't know much about the raccoon despite living here. He somewhat regrets that he desperately wanted to help with the investigation of the pet’s whereabouts.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••────

They ended up checking the neighbourhood until the sun began to set, There was no sight of the raccoon anywhere and Mushitaro was losing hope that they'd ever find the pet but every time he opened his mouth to suggest they wait until the next morning or for Ranpo to use ultra deduction to find him. Poe would look at him with teary eyes and whisper if they could keep looking for a couple more minutes. How could Mushitaro deny his partner's request? Before Ranpo, before Mushitaro, the author had no one. He only had Karl to keep him company, to fill the void called loneliness, and despair. He knew how much Karl meant to his partner. Thus, he agreed to keep searching.

No Karl. Their search once again ends up being meaningless, Mushitaro is growing more and more worried by the second as he peers over at the author to check if he's alright. Of course, he wouldn't be alright! His animal is still missing, surely Ranpo would know what to do right? He bites at his nails anxiously. Trying to think of every place that the raccoon could've run off to, yet again he couldn't think of anything.

“He's gone.” Poe spoke up and Mushitaro felt his heart shatter at the quivering tone he heard. “Did Karl not like me anymore?”

The cat-shifter is by Poe's side in an instant, wrapping his arms around the author who collapses in his arms. “Hey, Karl loves you, Never think for a second he didn't, he may have gone on a walk and got a little lost okay? When we find him we'll be more careful with locking the doors maybe?” He suggested.

"You promise? Do you think he'd come back?" Poe asked, Mushitaro didn't know whether or not the raccoon would come back but he didn't have the heart to voice that towards the other. "Yes, he will come back, I bet he knows where home is off by heart. Karl is a smart animal after all."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“How many times have I told you to not sneak animals into the base?” The man scolded the other, who pouted in response. “Come on Lippman! Look at how cute it is.” The man, now known as ’Lippman’ sighed with a soft smile appearing on his face. “You can't win me over with your cuteness, no matter how adorable you are.”

Piano pouted, holding the raccoon in his arms as if it were a baby. It's clear the man didn't know how to hold an animal properly which may be why the man isn't allowed a pet. “This is unfair, I want a pet to take care of, I promise to do good.”

Lippman raised an eyebrow, “You already have Albatross for that why need another one?”

Okay that's pretty funny. If he laughed Tross wouldn't somehow find out and come for his soul right? You never know with short bird's like him, vulture's even. They could be watching you every second, spying like hawks that wait for the perfect moment to strike. "I suppose you are correct but I want a real animal too."

The actor shook his head. “No and that is final Piano, you have a container of spiders in your room. Those are your pets that you allow to roam the house for whatever reason. I swear if I see another creepy crawly in my studio I'm slaughtering it.” The beautiful male complained, patting Piano on the shoulder before giving him a light shove towards the door. “Now go let that poor animal go, it's wild and probably has a home elsewhere.“

The piano-themed man huffed but doesn't disobey the orders he is given. He's the leader! Why the heck is he the one getting ordered around? He pouted and placed the raccoon on the door step outside of the house. “I'm sorry little fella but you cannot stay here, I know that Trossy may have agreed with me. Ice man may have reluctantly, Doc would've just tried to dissect you, it wouldn't be pretty either. Lippman is a big meanie!” He huffed, crossing his arms but couldn't help the smile that spreads across his face as the raccoon nudges his leg. Looking at him with those big, wide eyes filled with curiosity. “Bye, Bye little guy.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Time continues to tick over and over. Mushitaro is the only one awake in the mansion at this moment, Poe had fallen asleep leaning against the front door but Mushitaro moved him to a more comfortable place such as the sofa. There is no way that he'd be able to get the much taller man to the bedroom. So the sofa will work for now.

Ranpo isn't coming home tonight either as he's being held up from work, he's a little worried about that but he knows to put his trust in the detective. He's smart, he knows how to get himself out of trouble if need be.

Now, the cat-shifter is still awake for one reason and one reason only. Waiting for Karl to come home, he still had a shimmer of hope that the animal will return. He didn't want to wake up the next day having to tell Poe that he didn't come home. His heart won't be able to take that pain and you know what?

Mushitaro is grateful he stayed awake because if he was asleep he wouldn't have heard the soft pitter patter of footsteps. The sudden paw that clenches onto his leg, “Huh?” He shook his head with a yawn. Looking downwards, half awake. His eyes land on the fuzzy raccoon, his heart racing in his chest– in seconds the raccoon is scooped up and settled down on his lap. “You really did come back home. Poe's been worried sick, so have I been, even Ranpo! You can't just run off like that alright?” He lightly scolded the animal, Karl purred and curled up on his lap in response. Seeming to be just as tired as he is.

He supposed he could get some shut eye now that the situation is solved now.

[kewwie-pie]

Some trans!fem pesci sketches! With some extra info/headcanon about her <3

I'm honestly really happy with her current design! I've had this silly little headcanon since 2022 (I think?) But it's been in the back of my mind for much longer considering in au's I've always had a habit of making her female, so of course I'd eventually end up with just straight up making her trans!

headcanons and extra info about pesci:

She was born to her Swedish mother and Italian father in the month of March. Her parents are very accepting of her and fully supported her transitioning.

She prefers She/Her pronouns but she doesn't really mind it when people use they/them.

Pesci gets most of her outfits from prosciutto! Prosciutto had nobody to support him when he was still young and figuring things out, so he sometimes gifts pesci stuff to make her feel better.

He gifted his old makeup and some clothes to her because it was collecting dust in his basement. The fur hat she wears was a gift from him!

Prosci did her makeup once while she was frustrated, and she sobbed right after, undoing all of the old man's hard work. (After wiping away her tears and giving her a peptalk along with his signature forehead touch, he redid her makeup.)

Pesci is a nail-biter. She had been ever since kids started bullying her for her appearance (mainly her weak chin).

Melone had suggested she get acrylics or gel nails

Now she doesn't bite her nails anymore, but only because she feels like it's a waste of money to bite them, and that would probably make her feel worse.

Pesci has two jobs, and her day job consists of helping her parents around their restaurant. The other is her job as a hit woman for la squadra.

Pesci and ghiaccio had met each other in juvie before. However, they didn't recognize each other due to their major change in appearance

Prosciutto used to (and still does) visit the restaurant pesci's parents own, he used to come there every noon for a cup of coffee and a nice hot meal. It's because of this that they met each other and why he'd eventually bail her out of jail when she murdered two men.

Prosciutto's reasons for bailing out pesci were kinda selfish. He was tired of getting accused having no heart and being an overal terrible person so he decided to do a good deed and free the waitress and take her under his wing.

(He totally didn't take her under his wing because he enjoys the ego boost it gives him and so that he can shove his dead sister issues onto her)

Oops this turned into me rambling about prosci

Depending on what mood I'm in, she's either dating Ghiaccio or Melone. Why not both? Because it makes me feel like I'm just inserting pesci into meloghia </3