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a-strange-echo · 7 months

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Flufftober Day: "4+1"

Pairing: Sirius Black x animagus!Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: 4 times the marauders saw a big white dog plus the time they "adopted" it.

Word count: 1 282

Warnings: none, just fluff

Author's note: English is not my first langage, so please be mindful. Also, do not hesitate to tell me if there is any mistakes, i'll rectify it.

Author's feelings: I like the begining, i like the ending less. i might try to re-write it once the flufftober is over.

(Image found on google, credits to the original artist)

The first time the marauders met the dog was during a full moon. They were out during the night to go to the Shrieking Shack but Remus’ transformation appeared earlier and he shifted in the middle of the woods. It was a very difficult full moon that night, the three other men struggled to keep the wolf in the forest and not wandering outside towards the school or the villages. Peter had yet to transform, he was scared of the wolf he had to admit. It was comprehensible, when a full grown were-wolf is charging at you, you either run and die or are paralysed by fear and die. Luckily, a bark that didn’t sound like Sirius’ pulled him out of his paralysis just in time for him to shift in his rat form and dodge the wolf’s paw swing. It was now that a big white dog came out of nowhere, took Wormtail in its mouth and ran probably the fastest it could away from the wolf. The rat squeaked when he felt the teeth around his smaller form but realized the dog was still mindful to not squeeze too tight to hurt him. The dog finally released the rat a few meters away from the wolf who fortunately didn’t chase after them. Sirius went to check on his friend scared the dog was ill-intentioned but found it gently releasing the small animal and booped it with its nose as if to ask if he was alright.

After this, the unfamiliar dog ended up helping them during the whole duration of the full moon’s effect on Remus. The dog left before the sun rise, much to Sirius’ chagrin who would have liked to spend more time with a fellow dog.

“Mate, stop mopping, you’ll meet this dog again.” James tried to cheer him up later the next with a slap on the shoulder.

And he did meet the dog again. Around a month later. It was snowing heavily on the ground of Hogwarts and the marauders decided to have some fun and pull pranks in the snow when, at some point, Sirius heard a bark in the distance. He turned to his friends who heard it as well and, when they nodded, he sprinted to a secluded era and shifted in a dog, following a scent in the snow to find a white dog, the same white dog, playing in the snow as well. It was playfully growling and biting the snow when he arrived. He approached carefully when the other dog noticed his presence, head low but tail wagging gently to show he wanted to play. The white dog got into a play stance, head on the ground, butt in the air, tail wagging left and right and Sirius mimicked. The other dog jumped at him, biting his ear playfully and the two dogs started to play-fight. It lasted a while, until the two dogs were lying on the ground, paws in the air and tongues lolling out of their mouths. Sirius wondered if he should risk his new dog friendship and decided to roll on his side and shift back in his human form once the dog was looking at him. He saw the momentary shock on the dog’s face before he was the one surprised when the white dog also shifted to a human form. What was his surprise to see, in the place the dog once was lying in, the cute Hufflepuff he talked and joked with when they walked into each other in the hallways. They laughed it off and continued to lay on the ground for a while again, this time as humans, talking and laughing with each other.

“Shift back.” they had asked at some point.

Sirius was confused but obliged, seeing them do the same short after. The white dog slapped its paw on Sirius’ side, leaving snow paw print on the black fur. The dog then booped its nose against the side of his muzzle before leaving, strutting happily and disappearing behind the castle. Sirius was sure in this instant they had just flirted with him and quite literally marked him as theirs. At least, it was what he now firmly believed as he returned to his friends, doing a show of parading with the paw print in front of them. Today he did not just win a never ending list of teasing puns, he also got a situation-ship with another animagus, and by the little show he did, earned them a new nickname: “Snowpaw”.

The third time the marauders saw the white dog, was one evening when they were all in their dorm room. Well everyone except Sirius who claimed had some business he needed to do. So when James saw by the window his friend, in his dog form, running towards the lake where the white dog was waiting for him, he gasped dramatically. The noise attracted the other two boys who where quick to gather at the window to see a black dog and a white one sitting by each other on the lake shore, their tails on top of the other’s.

“-He didn’t tell us he had a date!” James voice was so high pitched with excitement, it could shatter glass.

“-Probably because he knows we will tease him for having a date with a dog.” Remus deadpanned.

“-I am the only one who realized this dog acts like Padfoot? Maybe its an animagus too.” Peter suggested, leaving the two other stunned. “I’m just saying.”

The last time they saw this, now, familiar dog was when Sirius dragged his three friend out of their shared room one day. It had taken some time for Sirius to convince Y/N to meet his friends. They were important to him and he wanted his lover and his friends to get together. However, Y/N wanted to take things slow, after all they only had been dating for a little over 3 weeks now and didn’t feel ready to talk to Sirius’ friends by fear of saying something to upset them. Even if Sirius reassured multiple times that they couldn’t say anything to upset them, Y/N was still adamant. So settle on meeting the friends in their animagi forms. When James, Remus and Peter got to where Y/N and Sirius were waiting for them, they were confused to see the white dog and Sirius waiting by its side in his human form. He quickly explained the situation and soon, his friends smiled wide, shifting into their animagi except for Remus who couldn’t but he was happy to just sit in the grass and enjoy the company of his friends.

It took Y/N some time to announce to Sirius’ friends who they were and that they were dating him, but they didn’t regretted it. It was nice to be part of a group now and to have someone who shares the same experiences as you. The relationship lasted long, very long, even after Hogwarts. It wasn’t a surprise when James took the mic at Sirius and Y/N’s wedding, doing his best man’s speech.

“-I have to say, I still feel betrayed that you didn’t tell me first you were dating someone, Sirius. I expected better from you.” he shook his head in disappointment. “Y/N I am very happy to have you, officially, in the family. Is this an adoption? It’s an adoption right?” people laughed at that, included the married couple.

“-You can count it as such, if you want, James.” Y/N went along.

“-Good. We are waiting for puppies now.” He said last then took his place back behind Sirius who had a hard time controlling his blush and laughter.

#sirius black x reader #fluff #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #marauders #non binary character #nonbinary

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 6 months

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Words: 3,899

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her

Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan

Warnings: scary imagery, gore, frightening scenarios

A/N: This is part of a series! Find the rest on the Master List!

Summary: Daryl is awoken in the middle of the night to a strange noise and some concerning discoveries.

The first thing that woke Daryl was a strange noise—some dull thump on the other side of the cabin. He was immediately wide awake and straining his hearing. He wondered if you were up and about, maybe unable to sleep, and moving around despite the late hour. Maybe he should just go check… But you’d asked for space. He laid still on his back staring up into the darkness. Another thump. Daryl sat up and stared into the blackness of his room. That’s when something drifting on the air seemed to hit him at the same time as he noticed a flickering glow at the bottom of his bedroom door.

Smoke. And a fire? Was that just in the hearth in the living room? No… something seemed off. And more noises. They seemed to be growing louder.

That was enough to warrant investigation.

He planted his boots on the floor and reached for the lamp on the nightstand. Click. Nothing. What the hell? Why was the power out? And that smoke smell… it was growing stronger.

Daryl felt for his knife and quickly slipped it into its sheath, then was reaching for his crossbow when a cacophony of sounds rose up from the other side of the cabin. The dogs began barking and at almost the same moment there was a sharp thump on his window followed by frantic growling and pounding. The sound drifting away toward the dogs.

Shit. Oh, shit. Gripping his crossbow, Daryl rushed to the window and peered out between the blinds. The moon was bright and illuminated the snow to a sparkling blue and white with deep purple shadows shrouding between. And then there… he saw the foot prints in the snow first, the disturbed and trampled surface, and then, as he pressed his cheek to the glass to look along the cabin, he saw them. The dead. They too were illuminated, but it was the warm burn of orange and red, flickering and throwing shadows into dark relief.

Panic seized him.

The dogs were still barking.

Clutching his bow, Daryl raced to the door of his room. He could now see the smoke drifting in beneath his door. He pressed his palm to the wood. It was cool enough to touch. He thrust it open and was almost overcome with smoke and heat immediately. The fire was raging up the far wall of the cabin, climbing toward the roof. Stifling his coughs as best he could, he struggled to hear anything over the greedy roar of the flames and the pounding of the dead that rose and fell like an upwelling current. He squinted against the burning smoke in his eyes. “Y/N!” he yelled as loud as he could. He staggered toward your room, feeling with his hand along the wall to guide his way, but with every step the heat grew and it didn’t take him long to realize that there was no way he would be able to get to you. Already the fire was drifting along the wall toward your door.

With panic rising in his chest and tightening his lungs, he hastily pressed his bandana over his mouth and nose and turned back, rushing back to his bedroom and slamming the door. He grabbed the quilt off the bed and shoved it along the bottom of the door in hopes of at least slowing down the smoke. Still coughing and tasting ash, Daryl rushed to the shared wall between his room and the bathroom in yours.

“Y/N!” Daryl roared. He pounded his fists over and over against the wall and then pressed his ear to it. All he could hear were the continued dull thuds on the outside of the cabin for a long moment. Terror seized him. What if you were unconscious, overcome by smoke? What if the infected had already broken in and gotten you… Please, no. Oh God, please no. He pounded on the wall again as hard as he could and yelled your name. Suddenly, the dogs started barking again. It came closer to the wall, and a moment later he heard you coughing. And then—

“Daryl!” More coughing. “Daryl, I’m—I’m trapped in here! There’s a horde outside and the fire—I can’t get out!” You couldn’t stop coughing. Your lungs burned. Your throat burned. “There’s so much smoke…”

Daryl pressed his palms to the wall almost as if he could feel your hands on the other side. “‘M gonna get ya out! Just hang in there! ‘M gonna figure this out…” It was so dark he couldn’t see a fucking thing. He fumbled with the light on his crossbow and got it turned on. “Y/N, wet a towel and put it at the bottom of the bathroom door to keep the smoke out! Then get one for your nose and mouth! ‘M comin’! I promise, I’m comin’!”

“O—okay. Hurry! They could come through the windows…” your voice drifted off and he could only hear you coughing distantly.

He spun and scanned the room with his light. He needed something to open up the fucking wall. Fuck. He had nothing in here.

Daryl hastily tied the bandana over his face and ripped the quilt away from the bottom of the door. The smoke immediately began to curl underneath. He plunged into the heat of the next room and frantically looked around. His eyes landed first on your pack and then the gun rack by the hearth. He seized them and dumped the boxes of ammo into your bag as fast as he could before piling all of it back in his bedroom. Then he returned to his search. Finally, when his desperation had almost overwhelmed him, the beam of his light landed on the hatchet you used to chip kindling from the larger logs for the fire.

“Yes!” he gasped out. He grabbed it and raced back into his bedroom, banging again on the shared wall. “Y/N? Ya still with me?” he asked frantically.

His answer was you coughing and a weak, “I’m here!”

“Get back from the wall and keep the dogs back! ‘M openin’ it up so ya can come through. I think we can get out the window on this side. The dead seem to mostly be on your end by the fire!”

You tugged the dogs back by their collars, coughing into the damp towel over your face. “Alright! We’re clear!” you rasped as loud as you could. Your eyes were now stinging from the smoke.

The first blow wedged the hatchet deeply into the dry wall. Daryl yanked it free, pulling a section of the wall with it. He gripped the drywall with both hands and tugged, widening the gap. There were wood struts and plywood separating him for you. He swung again with as much force as he could and the wood made a resounding crack. He extracted it with great effort and swung again, and again, and again. Finally, the plywood splintered and he pushed a chunk through. He could now look into the bathroom. Daryl wedged his boot in against the wood and kicked. A significant portion broke away. He could hear you coughing and murmuring to the dogs. The smoke was black and thick in the air toward the ceiling, much worse than on his side, though that was changing rapidly.

Daryl felt another surge of adrenaline and notched the hatchet back into the wood lower, opening the bottom portion of the wall. His palms were slick with sweat and his heart was hammering hard. He had to knock out one of the thick wooden struts. He swung again, as hard as he could and the hatchet blade buried itself into the strut but seemed to do little other damage. Daryl pulled it free with a grunt and swung again. Splinters of wood shot off. He could hear you coughing on the other side. “Hang on!” he roared. He used all his strength and swung again, and again, and again… what felt like endlessly until the strut was sundered.

He threw down the hatchet and grabbed his bow, training the light on the opening. It would be tight, but he thought it would be enough.

“Y/N! Can ya make it through?”

You crawled over to the glow shining into the bathroom from the other side, your portal to safety. Black smoke swirled in the thermals of heat in the air. To Daryl, and to safety. “Strider, go!”

The black lab shot through the opening and bounded to Daryl, whining anxiously and tapping his paws, looking back at the hole toward you and Bear.

“Okay, Bear! Go! Bear, go! Go on!” You pushed the nervous husky toward the hole but he seemed unwilling to squeeze through. “Bear, now!” you yelled at him, trying to move his 70 pound body unsuccessfully.

“Y/N, come through first! He’ll follow! C’mon!”

There was a suddenly creaking noise overhead and you froze before glancing up at the roof, wide-eyed. “Oh, God—Bear, go!” You pushed with all your strength and Daryl reached through from the other side and grabbed Bear’s scruff, hauling him forward.

“Y/N, come on! Quick! We gotta go!” Daryl’s hand was reaching out for you. Now he could hear the cracking above you. You crawled closer, stretching out your fingers, trying to draw a breath but getting mostly smoke and ash. Another creak and then a loud crack and crunch overhead and suddenly the ceiling was falling down behind you. Terror froze Daryl’s heart. “Y/N!” He held his breath. He couldn’t see from the rolling clouds of dark smoke and the rain of ash and debris. “Y/N! No!”

The dogs whined incessantly behind him. Daryl squinted through hole in the wall, framed by splintered wood, his hand outstretched and flecked with ash. No…

Suddenly, he felt your hand in his and he gripped it tight and pulled. Your arm came through, and then your shoulder, then the rest of you, coated with gray and white ash, coughing from the soot. He tugged you through and into him as you tried to regain your breath.

Daryl smoothed your hair, pressing you against his chest for a brief moment. Then he clasped your face with one hand, shining his light toward you with the other. His blue eyes whirred frantically over you for injury. You had a cut near your temple, but beyond that seemed mostly okay, albeit covered in soot and ash, your eyes red and watery. “God, I thought ya—I thought the roof—”

You shook your head and struggled to talk. Your throat felt dry and hot. “No—I’m just banged up. Let’s go. We have to get out—”

“C’mon,” Daryl said urgently. He held up your pack and you dug in the side pocket and pulled out a headlamp which you hastily illuminated and slid on. You were still wearing your clothes from the outing the day before, but your winter gear was already consumed by the inferno. You only had your slippers on. That was something to worry about later…

“Here,” Daryl said, holding out a shotgun. “Try not to use it unless we got no other choice.” He held out the hatchet. You took it with a nod, gripping it far tighter than necessary. You felt shaky and lightheaded.

Daryl grabbed your hand in his and squeezed it tight. “Are ya ready? We gotta try and sneak to the shop, get to the snowmobile. But there are gonna be infected everywhere. Hopefully the horde is still on the other side and stays distracted by the fire…”

“God, I thought I was dead,” you said suddenly.

“We ain’t dead. And we ain’t gonna be. C’mon.” Daryl peeked through the blinds again and then pulled the cord to raise them. He pressed his face nearly to the glass and looked out. “We got some stragglers, but we better go before they surround the place.”

“There are hundreds over there,” you said, hearing the shake in your own voice.

Daryl gulped and nodded. “I know. We’ll be on the sled and gone before they figure it out.” He paused and pulled in as deep and steadying a breath as he could under the circumstances, then he unlocked and raised the window.

A torrent of frigid air poured in like water through the breached hull of a ship. Daryl grabbed Strider and lifted him up to the window. The big lab bounded from his arms and landed in the deep snow, bristling and growling. A walker stumbled toward him from the darkness beyond and you held your breath as Strider launched himself at the skull-like face and took it down. Bear was next and seemed eager to free himself into the night air. “Alrigh’. You next,” Daryl said urgently. You pushed yourself through the window and landed less than gracefully in the deep snow, sinking up to your shins. You shook the snow from your hands and straightened up, glancing back just in time to see Daryl climbing through. A moaning and growling ahead of you snapped your head around. A runner was racing toward you and the dogs. You raised the hatchet, but before you needed to swing, Bear and Strider had seized it and the body lay twitching in the snow, a sick dark puddle expanding around the head.

“The shop!” Daryl said urgently. “Let’s go.”

You whistled to the dogs and took off after Daryl, rounding the little lean-to on the end of the cabin and focusing on the hulking building of the shop ahead, illuminated in an orange glow. Ash drifted down around you on currents of air. Daryl raised his bow and dropped a walker. You turned and saw three more emerging from the darkness. One was alarmingly fast and you swung the hatchet as it got close, cleaving its head in a spray of gore.

When you looked forward again, Daryl’s eyes were on you. You raced to him. The snow had already soaked your slippers and was melting into your socks. Your toes would be numb in no time, but you hardly felt anything but the shake of adrenaline and bite of fear.

The shop was just ahead and you barreled in under the open door. Daryl reached the snowmobile first and fumbled with the ignition.

“Boys, load up!” you commanded the dogs, pointing the makeshift side car Daryl had crafted for them. Bear and Strider jumped in without hesitation, hair still raised along their backs.

The sled hummed to life, the engine loud in the echo of the metal building. You glanced frantically back toward the blaze of the cabin. Infected started rounding the corner. Dozens upon dozens, trying to rush toward you but hindered by the deep snow. “Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“Come on!” Daryl yelled over the roar of the engine.

“Have you ever driven one of these?” you asked, hesitating.

“No, but we gotta go!” he roared.

“Move back! It’s harder than it looks and I know the terrain!” you replied. “Last thing we need is to get stuck in a fucking drift or dead end with a horde on our ass!”

Daryl moved back and you climbed on in front of him, shifting the snowmobile into reverse and backing it up out of the shop. The skis hit the snow and slid with ease, cutting through the powder. “Y/N—hurry up!” Daryl urged you, raising his crossbow. The infected were getting too close for comfort. He let a bolt fly and it dropped a runner, striking it square in the face. More were charging forward, yelling wildly and flailing grasping hands. “Go!”

You shifted into drive and revved the engine. The sled leapt forward into the darkness. The headlights illuminated the trunks of trees and rounded shapes of boulders beneath the snow. The loomed in the light and whipped past, a dizzying kaleidoscope of shapes and shadows.

You turned the sled toward the road that led to the cabin, pointing the nose downhill. Your hands were already numb with cold where they gripped the handlebars and your cheeks felt only the biting sting of snow flurries as they pelted your skin. The cold air cut through your thin layers of clothing. Daryl’s arms were clasped around your waist. You couldn’t hear anything over the hum of the snowmobile and glancing over your shoulder was too dangerous traveling at the speed you were, but you could sense infected trailing behind you. Strider barked to your right, squinting into the darkness beyond the headlights.

Images of dead in the surrounding woods flicked past, momentarily lit by the white blaze of light from the sled and then disappearing behind you. They were everywhere. You needed to get off the mountain.

You felt Daryl shift behind you and you partially turned. “How is it b—back there?” Your stutter made you aware that you were shivering violently in the cold.

“Keep goin!” was his yelled response. “A few still behind us!” The runners were terrifyingly fast but they wouldn’t be able to keep up with the sled for long. In this case, the deep snow was a blessing.

Silence fell between the two of you again and you pressed the snowmobile to go faster, as fast as you dared while navigating in the darkness. Your throat and eyes, burning before from the smoke, now felt dry from the cold. Your feet were frozen in your slippers, the melted snow quickly turning to ice in the frigid wind. There was only the hum of the engine for several long minutes and then Daryl leaned forward into you and spoke into your ear. His voice was finally calm. “It’s alrigh’. We lost ‘em. Find somewhere safe to stop for a minute.”

Your breath hitched in your chest as the weight of what had just happened began to settle heavily over you. You slowed and the engine noise reduced slightly, the high-pitched whir dropping to a low hum. You found an open space in the dark woods and let the snowmobile come to a stop. You cut the engine completely. You felt frozen, rigid where you sat.

Daryl shifted behind you and then you felt him climb off. “Boys, out,” he murmured softly to the dogs. They bounded out of the side car and into the snow. Daryl lifted the seat and rummaged in the hidden storage compartment below. You heard fabric rustling. He reappeared in front of you, clutching a puffy winter coat.

“Y/N—” His voice was tentative, cautious. He moved around to your side again and draped the coat over your shoulders. “Pull this on. S’freezin’ out here. I ain’t got any spare boots in there so we’ll have to find somethin’ but at least I got a coat and hat ya can use.” You still didn’t move. Your eyes were a bit wide and almost unseeing. Daryl realized that tears were pouring down your cheeks. He chewed on his bottom lip for a long moment, his heart sinking into his stomach. “Y/N,” he said again, even more gently.

Finally, you moved. You hurriedly wiped the tears from your frozen cheeks and slipped your arms into the coat and zipped it up. You tucked your freezing hands into the long sleeves and sucked in a breath. Your throat and lungs still burned with ash and soot. Your eyes found Daryl’s face finally. “You aren’t gonna say ‘I told you so’?” you said.

His brow furrowed heavily, casting his blue eyes into deeper shadows. “No…” Daryl replied quietly, shaking his head. He moved back to the little storage compartment and shuffled some items around until he found the mittens he’d stowed inside. He came back to your side again and held them out. “I understand what ya were holdin’ onto there. I mean—I never had what ya had by blood, but I’ve got a found family. And I’ve lost some of them along the way, including Brian, and—I get it.”

You sniffled, turning to look back over your shoulder. You could vaguely see the orange glow of the fire up the mountain, reflecting on the tall trees. You watched the distant smoke, illuminated by the flames, curling into the gray sky and disappearing among the winter ceiling of clouds. “What I was clinging to was already gone, really. And I almost got both of us killed because I wouldn’t let go.” You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, reliving the terrifying chaos of sound and confusion in the smoke and flames. Your throat still burned. Your palms still burned.

“Ya didn’t know they’d get to the cabin last night. Ya couldn’t know. We coulda been safe there another day or another week… maybe even a month. It isn’t your fault. It was the dead. It was this goddamn world we live in now,” Daryl said.

“I still should have listened to you. You were seeing it all with a clear head. But I’m too damn stubborn…”

This drew a low laugh from Daryl despite the situation and you looked up at him in surprise. One corner of his mouth was curved up. “Ya dun say…” he drawled.

You mopped at your face again with a mitten and let out an amused exhale. The pit in Daryl’s stomach loosened a little. “Alright. Let’s—let’s figure out what we’ve got and what we need,” you said.

Daryl nodded. The dogs were nosing around din the snow and he was relieved they showed no sign of smelling any approaching infected. “With what I grabbed fast and what I had packed, we’ve got plenty of ammo and food for now. I put some cookin’ stuff and firestartin’ materials in the saddlebags. Have a few more spare clothes. But tonight, we need a safe place to hole up and we need better gear for you—especially shoes. Ya can’t go around in wet socks and slippers. Yer gonna get frostbite.”

You nodded. Your feet were numb. You gulped and tried to think. All of your shelters on the mountain were off limits. There were simply too many infected and they weren’t anywhere near strong enough to keep the dead out. “Let’s just get down off this mountain and hit the edge of town. There are enough stores down there… Unless the area is flooded with dead too, we should be able to find somewhere to crash and scavenge what we need.”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. Are ya okay drivin’ this thing still?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” You whistled softly to the dogs as Daryl closed up the storage compartment again. Another shiver wracked through you as Daryl climbed on. His arms wrapped around you again and now he seemed to be holding you extra tight. You started the engine and turned back toward the remnants of the road down, buried under the deep snow. You wondered how long the cabin would burn behind you and what exactly lay ahead…

#daryl dixon fanfic series #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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woe-begotten-spirit · 7 days

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So I know not a lot of people in the world have a strong opinion on who is best to ship Middle Earth’s Sun with but I am obsessed with The Lost Tales era Eonwë/Arien (or Fionwë/Urwendi) and the parallels with Elwing and Eärendil.

The Arien/Tilion thing of Moon in love with the Sun of course makes sense in a sort of collective unconscious mythology type way but something about a romance between Bird and Celestial Body is just 🔥

In both versions our bird flies through the air seeking lover lost at sea

Manwë sent Fionwë his son, swiftest of all to move about the airs, and bade him say to Urwendi that the bark of the Sun come back awhile to Valinor, for the Gods have counsels for her ear; and Fionwë fled most readily, for he had conceived a great love for that bright maiden long ago, and her loveliness now, when bathed in fire she sate as the radiant mistress of the Sun, set him aflame with the eagerness of the Gods. (LT I, VIII)

Indeed for a while mishap fell even upon bright Urwendi, that she wandered the dark grots and endless passages of Ulmo’s realm until Fionwë found her and brought her back to Valinor (LT I, IX)

For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved. (Silm, ch 24)

who sails in a hallowed ship through the Door of the Night.

Ulmo draws the galleon of the Sun before the Door of Night. Then speaks Urwendi the mystic word, and they open outward before her, and a gust of darkness sweeps in but perishes before her blazing light; and the galleon of the Sun goes out into the limitless dark, and coming behind the world finds the East again. (LT I, IX)

But they took Vingilot, and hallowed it, and bore it away through Valinor to the uttermost rim of the world; and there it passed through the Door of Night and was lifted up even into the oceans of heaven. (Silm, ch 24)

And then our birds Eonwë and Elwing end up being the ones to deliver the Silmarils to their fated places (from Elwing to Eärendil to Air, from Eonwë to Maedhros and Maglor to Fire and Water)

And thus it came to pass that the Silmarils found their long homes: one in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters. (Silm, ch 24)

There are several more similarities like the early idea that both Eärendil and Arien encountered mermaids while they were at sea (LT I, commentary on The Tale of Qorinómi and LT II, V) and Tilion originally chasing Eärendil instead of Arien (LT II, V)

And also I just think Eonwë should be allowed to do the apocalypse as revenge for his girlfriend because come on:

For ’tis said that ere the Great End come Melko shall in some wise contrive a quarrel between Moon and Sun, and Ilinsor shall seek to follow Urwendi through the Gates, and when they are gone the Gates of both East and West will be destroyed, and Urwendi and Ilinsor shall be lost. So shall it be that Fionwë Úrion, son of Manwë, of love for Urwendi shall in the end be Melko’s bane, and shall destroy the world to destroy his foe, and so shall all things then be rolled away.’ (LT I, IX)

#silmarillion #tolkien #eonwe #arien #elwing #earendil #lotr #woe-begotten-spirit

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edgy-ella · 6 months

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Ok so I still think that Fang the HuNTeR is a little silly and obviously they needed to consolidate Fang the Sniper/Nack the Weasel but upon rereading the online tie in comic for Superstars, this panel specifically, I have a huge newfound appreciation for the whole thing.

Fang is talking to Eggman here, or should I say, Robotnik. He never calls him Eggman at all in the comic, just “Doc” and “Egg-Mook,” the latter of which is consistent with how Fang calls Bean and Bark “Bomb-Mook” and “Scarf-Mook” in the IDW Classic Sonic special from a couple years ago. I don’t think he’s referring to the Eggman name here, he and Sonic just came up with more or less the same nickname (which considering that ‘ol Ivo has been flying around in the Egg Carrier since day one and built a giant space station called the Death Egg, isn’t surprising).

But that’s the cinch here. Nickname.

I think Fang may have helped inspire Robotnik here to start going by a nickname as his evil plans increased in scale. By the time he starts referring to himself as Eggman in Sonic Adventure 2, he’s blowing up moons and holding the entire world hostage. So, yeah, I think it’s safe to assume he’d be considered a criminal at that point. And Eggman knows this. So even though he’s obviously not fooling anyone, he decided to take a page out of Fang’s book and went by a new name (as well as one upping Sonic by owning the mocking nickname).

Considering their backgrounds, it also makes more sense why Fang would start doing this before Eggman despite Eggman’s supposed 300 IQ. While we don’t know anything about Fang’s backstory in the games, the vibe I get from him is that he’s been in the game for a while by the time he shows up for the first time in Triple Trouble. Like, he’s the kind of guy that was thrust into the criminal life at a very young age, maybe even as young as Tails. So he knows all the tricks to survive living a life like that.

Eggman isn’t like this. He’s a gifted little trustfund baby with at least one world renowned genius scientist in the family already, Gerald, and iirc Nega implies that the Robotnik family had tons of brilliant, respected members before Eggman showed up and tarnished the family name. He comes from a wealthy, book-smart background. He doesn’t know shit about being a criminal, whether as a bounty hunter like Fang or a terrorist like he would inevitably become. So he does the smart thing and looks to learn from the people around him.

I mean considering that Fang probably got his ass arrested sometime early in the modern era (likely before Heroes since Eggman goes to the Chaotix for help and not him), he probably should’ve found a better person to take inspiration from but y’know. Fuck it, we egg.

#sonic headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #sonic superstars #dr eggman #dr ivo robotnik #fang the sniper #fang the hunter #nack the weasel #ella essays

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dreamcatcherwriting · 6 months

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Happy Birthday Ranboo! (A Poem By Your -*koffkoff*- Esteemed -*koffkoff*- DreamCatcher)

I also sent this to them in an ask but um yeah.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RANBOO! This is probably late due to timezones BUT it is still your birthday for me here! I hope you had a great time and that you enjoy this absurd poem I wrote.

-genloss spoilers included-

Happy birthday Ranboo!

Another year survived,

Of bringing silly laughter

Into lots of peoples’ lives

Happy birthday, Ranboo!

Another year escaped

Of barking and spiked boxes

And of moistly failed cakes

Happy birthday Ranboo!

You bring happiness to all

By making frozen ice cream

And exploring empty malls.

From Resident Evil mods

With pandas and banana guns

To sleepy streams and soundboards

And the backrooms, oh what fun.

After years of waiting,

It was Ranboo rebrand time

A new era realm of content

Time for silliness to shine

We were so excited that

We nearly hit the moon-

Bouncy little us-puffs and a lofi Ranboo tune

And that’s not all, you also

Finally chose to make a cake

It was very wet and hydrated,

But you don’t know how to bake.

So sadly it emerged

Fit enough to kill a king—

With extra frosting, lacking eggs

This abominable thing.

I almost forgot Generation Loss

Three silly painful streams

As it slowly changed from funny

To the most terrifying scenes.

From the cabin to the warehouse

To the final Choice

We were forced to listen

To the anguish in your voice.

And in the end I’m sad to say

Your doting viewers voted “die”

I guess we just can’t stand to see

Our beloved streamer cry.

Hooray! A year of Ranboo!

What a silly, silly time—

I hope I have commemorated it

In this endless rhyme

Now here is to another

Hundred years of Ranboo fun—

Please don’t eat uranium

When you decide your time is done.

We love you Ranboo!

Have an awesome day!

Never stop being silly,

Or making wet, moist cakes-

Okay?

-DreamCatcher

#ranboo #ranboolive #ranboosaysstuff #ranboo live #my favorite streamer #happy birthday ranboo #dreamcatcher writes stuff #kinda I mean it's a poem #the uranium thing is an joke from one of their streams #genloss #sorta #poetry #but silly #silly #sillyposting #idk lol #okay byeeee

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 8 months

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𝔒𝔷𝔷𝔶 𝔒𝔰𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 յ, յգՑՅ ‘𝔅𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫’ 𝔓𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔱

#1983 #‘Bark at the Moon’ Photoshoot #ózzy osbourne #bark at the moon #bark at the moon era #werewolf #ozzy #madman #80's #80s #metal #heavy metal #classic rock #UK #photo #photoshoot

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ramayantika · 7 months

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The way humans love ~ seen by a god

They will hold their memories inside their heart. A song heard ten years since the last time they heard it reminds them of lost fragrances, old homes and companions they once spent time with. To see wonder inside their eyes, look at them when they speak of old companions and times. That lost faraway look soon turns into a glaze and a little smile over their lips. They love so fiercely, so tenderly, so passionately that their love story is imprinted into every object that exists in this universe. A mother's lullaby still travels in the winds that blow and that boy who now lives in a different country feels the cool breeze carrying his late mother's lullaby.

They write poems in secret sometimes and engrave ther names on tree barks in hopes that their little love story leaves behind a mark for the years to come. It lasts for an eternity. They whisper secrets under the stars and kiss under the moon while nature looks at them in awe. The ones who lived ages ago buried their loved ones with their favourite things, be it royals or commoners, they all were given their favourite objects in their coffins in hopes that they enjoy these objects in their afterlife. Does that exist? I am a god. I can't tell you that now.

Some knit warm clothes for winter. When the young ones grow out of them, they still nuzzle their faces into the woolen clothes. The warmth that exists in the yarn entwined with each other comes from love radiating from the yarn. They sometimes wrap a shawl or a jacket around the other person while letting their own bodies shiver. As the sharp icy winds blow they bring their hands close to each other. Love suffuses through skin and makes it way inside their bodies, warming the heart as they share shy smiles with each other.

They love art. They aren't alive without it. They create art for everyone even when they haven't mastered it completely. Children scribble stick figures for their family and the adults will frame them on the refrigerator door for the years to come. Some write songs for a beloved that is far from their embrace and another human sitting in a different country listens to the same song and thinks of the lover they once shared sweet times with. They write stories too. Yes, their stories come from their mind's imagination, but they leave behind a part of their heart and soul into it in each of their tales. Those who read them even a hundred years later reach out and touch their hands, and mutter a thanks for the story written.

Sometimes love is found in the kitchen. One teases the other as their eyes fill with tears on cutting onions. Sometimes they dance around the kitchen, humming a tune to themselves and the other gazes at them as the sun streams in through the windows.

And sometimes it's love even when they are sitting alone by themselves. They will gaze at the moon, take pictures of trees and dip their feet in a pond with a sigh escaping from their lips when surrounded by peace and serenity.

They are wonderfully blessed with love. The way they strongly fight for their loved ones, the way their art depicts their love stories hidden away from the world, the way they remember smells from their childhood memories, the way they remember their lover's voice even when they no longer exist in the world around them, the way they smile at babies, the way they care for the person down the lane, the way they all connect to people from bygone eras because they all do the same things, love each other the same way since time immemorial.

Humans. Love. It's a wonder, a delight, a beautiful sight.

#samridhi speaks #samridhi writes #tumblr #posts #writeblr #humans

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zibus · 2 months

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Since it seems that Egghead is coming to a close soon(ish?), I've been thinking about what themes from the arc might be able to clue us in to what's coming for Elbaf (and perhaps the rest of the Final Saga). Oda often uses a short arc to set up not just the plot, but also themes for the saga to come. My favorite example is Long Ring Long Land planting the seeds of "what if we lost a crew member" before Water 7 and Ennnies Lobby.

In addition, all of the post-timeskip arcs have had important parallel themes and often plot payoffs to pre-skip arcs. Fishman Island -> East Blue (specifically Arlong Park). Dressrossa -> Alabasta(warlord takeover) & Skypia(Noland & being forgotten). Whole Cake -> Water 7/Ennies Lobby. Wano -> Thriller Bark is the weakest, but all of the ideas of night and Luffy bringing the dawn is super prevalent, Moria is the first person to give us details about Kaido, and we meet Rayuma's zombie.

So following that parallel, the Final Saga parallels Summit War, which, duh. But still, maybe we can pull some information and thoughts other than that there will be a war at the end of it.

Looking at Egghead, there's a big theme of hidden identities. There's some of this with Kuma, but of course its most prevalent with the Vegapunks. Each of the satellites can be thought of as a "mask" of Vegapunk's, and Vegapunk himself is revealed to be an ally when we probably expected him to be antagonistic. There are traitors on both sides with Stussy and York.

This idea of identity is also closely tied to loyalty. Vegapunk's disloyalty to the World Government vs. Kizaru. Stussy vs. York. Kuma's (and the Pacifistas') loyalty towards Bonney. Off the island itself, you get Aikanu vs. Garp and their loyalties, as well as the idea of Sword as a special force within the Navy.

Looking at Marineford, we get a lot about sacrifice with Whitebeard, Oars, and Ace. This is tied to the pacing of the torch from the old era to the new, with Blackbeard sweeping in to claim the top spot from Whitebeard. We also get a ton about family, especially found family and Luffy's family with Garp and Ace (and Sabo). And, of course, there's the war.

So how might these themes and ideas play out in Elbaf?

Well with the themes of identities, we've been told the current prince of the Elbaf giants is named Loki, obviously named after the god of trickery and lies from Norse myth which the Elbaf giants are heavily inspired by. The only other thing we know about Prince Loki is that he fell in love with Charlotte Lola but she turned him down. The presence of Loki, combined with the theme of hidden identities tells me all is not as it seems on Elbaf. When we arrive, someone or someones are not going to be who they say they are. Most likely there will be something related to Loki himself, but there's another possibility.

This idea is not original to me, but besides Loki, who's the most iconic Norse god? Thor, the god of lightning. And which character we haven't seen in a while has the powers of lightning? Enel. We know he's coming back after his cover story on the moon. Perhaps rather than seeing his return, Enel will already be on Elbaf with an assumed identity, ready to wreck havoc once again.

But there are other very important characters on Elbaf, and the most significant one is, of course, Shanks. Assuming Oda doesn't go out of his way to save the reunion for Laughtale, its hard to see how Luffy and Shanks don't meet on Elbaf. Luffy has finally reached Shanks level by becoming a fellow Emperor, and so its time to return the straw hat as promised.

On the level of hidden identities, I don't subscribe to the evil!Shanks theories, but I definitely think we will learn a lot about him. I think Shanks definitely needs to become a much more complex and morally nuanced character. If Shanks is a Celestial Dragon by blood as many suspect, I think that would be a great stepping stone.

On the level of families, Shanks is Luffy's truest father figure, so much so that Luffy has barely given his biological father two thoughts. Given what we've learned about Vegapunk's connection to the Revolutionary Army, and that Saul has almost certainly taken the remnants of Ohara's research to Elbaf, my harebrained prediction is that Dragon and co will arrive on Elbaf as well. If Bonney & Kuma travel with the Strawhats and Nika for a while, that would give the RA even more reason to visit. My prediction is we get some juicy parallels between and completely new understandings of Luffy's two fathers, as well as continued development of the found family themes present throughout the entire story so far.

On the level of sacrifice, I'm really torn. Shanks has already sacrificed so much for Luffy. Having him make a full sacrifice either in Elbaf or soon after seems not exactly Oda's style. On the other hand, Shanks is the last original Emperor. If we're truly going to usher in a new era, can Shanks be there at the top? We've been preparing for a Blackbeard v. Shanks rematch since at least Marineford. Having that promise fulfilled here would be extra poetic. And having Teach take down Luffy's mentor would make him Luffy's greatest enemy in a way no other villain has been. Even if it's not Shanks, I'm convinced there will need a big sacrifice to finally pave the way for Luffy's new era of freedom.

There's so much more that could be said about all the story threads coming to a head at Elbaf. Obviously Usopp's storyline is coming to a head. He will definitely become a brave warrior of the sea, and perhaps supplant Prince Loki to finally become God Usopp. He will definitely lead an army of 80,000. Big Mom will probably return, or at the very least we will learn how she gained Mother Caramel's devil fruit powers - which will probably tell us how Blackbeard and co do it as well. Robin will find the final Road Poneglyph and probably the first big clues of the Void Century/Will of D. from the Ohara research. The Strawhat Grand Fleet will arrive, if not at Elbaf specifically definitely soon after - just as Whitebeard's allies came to Marineford.

(Oooo! just had a thought. Will the Strawhat fleet arrive from the sky instead of beneath the ocean? That would be heckin rad.)

But this post is already absurdly long. Hope you enjoyed my rambles, and we'll see how much about Elbaf I get right!

#one piece #one piece spoilers #one piece theories #long post #loooooong and rambly post #egghead #elbaf #final saga

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luxurysystems · 8 days

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⛓️ℑ 𝔎𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢...⛓️

You've become royalty, a prince. You have an army at your beck and call. They serve you. But there's something beyond your understanding cleverly pulling the strings... What happens when you set out to rule an entire combat sport but you end up being the one under control? A Kevin Sullivan, Prince of Darkness-era inspired playlist that possesses you with a blend of thrash/black/heavy metal/rock grooves before abruptly abandoning you to ponder your purpose and fate with the final two tracks. Perhaps, if you survive, you can rekindle the relationship with the person lost at the very beginning: You.

Playlist is public. If you don't use Spotify, here's the entire track list + links:

Toxic Minds - SCYTHELORD

Bark at the Moon - OZZY OSBOURNE

Thunder Vengeance - LOVEBITES

Equale - SIGH

Holy Diver - DIO

Torn - EDNASWAP

The Home -PORTUGAL. THE MAN

#kevin sullivan #wrestling playlist #my art #wrestling fanart #in which Lux describes the music playlist like they're pretentiously trying to sell you a bottle of wine #“there's subtle notes of redemption and hope that leaves a taste reminiscent of absolving yourself for the sins you've committed.”#“...and it pairs nicely with the disturbing realization that maybe ''it'' was ''you'' all along.......... anyway enjoy!”

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 6 months

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Rated: Teen and Up

Pairing: General, hint of Dean/OFC

Tags: Witchcraft, Animal Transformations, Angst, Fluff (and Fur)

Word Count: 5500

Hello, and welcome to my very first foray into a big bang! Of course, if I’m going to give one a try, Dean Winchester will be the focus. This particular one was also much less intimidating as it was the 2023 Dean Winchester Big Bang: Mini Edition. So, the word count wasn’t high, and we had a couple of months to work on the project with our artists. My artist is TwinOne. I had such a fun time sending over suggestions and watching their artwork come to life through the process.

I hope you enjoy and please let TwinOne know how sweet and lovely the artwork is. I’m over the moon with the results, and it was so satisfying to see someone’s interpretation of my story! It scratched that itch (wink, wink).

Thank you to the mods @deanwbigbang for hosting and running such a fun challenge! Your time and effort is appreciated!

Summary - Set pre-series, Stanford Era: Dean has been sent on a solo hunt in New Orleans. He meets up with an ingenue witch, Selina, who needs his help to save her mentor from a voodoo priestess. The plan doesn’t go as expected; when does it ever? Dean, though, gets a little breather in the aftermath, and it turns out to be just the thing to scratch that itch.

Prequel to "Oh, I'll Be Anything You Want"

Tendrils of smoke. It swirls, radiating bright white, pulsing with life in an empty void. Growls. Incessant barks. Distant at first. With every passing second, the panic rises as the sound pounds closer. Suddenly, hot and foul breath chases out the smoke.

Dean’s lids popped open from the nightmare. His head tilted from side to side, inspecting the area.

He’d hoped the entire thing had been a self-constructed comedy of errors in his mind. A bad dream from which he’d blessedly awakened.

Unfortunately, the current situation he found himself in was very, very real.

There was no way Dean Winchester would ever tell his dad about this.

If he somehow managed to escape this debacle, he might die of humiliation if someone found out.

New Orleans had been a disappointment in so many ways. No booze. No beads. No boobs.

He whined at the unexpected stab of pain emanating from his shoulder. He’d been lucky to win the fight in one piece. The sparring partner’s fangs had sunk into Dean’s flesh like malleable clay.

But before the ambush, he’d at least accomplished what he’d set out to do. The hex bag had been buried in the priestess’s backyard. Selina had provided specific instructions. Dean’s sense of direction easily found the northernmost corner of the parcel lot. The muslin-wrapped ingredients he’d been charged with rested beneath a half foot of dirt. All his tasks were completed well before midnight under the brightest full moon he’d seen in ages. He hoped Selina had gone ahead with the spellwork even if he hadn’t gotten back to her in time.

He stared out between the steel bars into the pitch-black. The absence of light left him bereft of shadows to discern as friend or foe.

An itch tap-danced over his neck. Skin rippled at the sensation while he fought the temptation to scratch. Discomfort from the wounded limb took priority for a short spell.

He hadn’t thought things could get worse but turned out jail time was the worst thing that could have happened on top of everything else. Getting caught, literally, in this condition left him vulnerable.

Dean’s nostrils flared and twitched at the overpowering stench of pungent piss and stale shit. He got a whiff of cat dander and sneezed.

The cell block buddy to his right barked to keep it down. It was lights out, after all. Just because he’d been brought in late last night, he was told with a fierce growl, didn’t mean he couldn’t acclimate himself to the way things ran around here right quick. Dean rose only to circle the middle of the floor again. He eventually flopped back down, forced by the pulsing throb of his barely treated and badly bandaged wound. He curled like a ball atop the hard surface. The bone-cold of the place sent a shiver through his body. He closed his eyes again and prayed for sleep.

A fluorescent electric buzz hummed into his ear canal. The flicker of light flashed over closed lids. Tapping into all his senses, something alien swept left to right along the surface of his eyeballs, lazy and slow, as his sight focused.

A languid yawn escaped. The clink-clack of a door unlocking bolted him upright. He scampered to the front of the cell closest to the hallway floor. Nose stuck between bars, Dean tilted his head in vain to glimpse who entered.

Whines. Barks. They echoed off the walls. The instinctual urge to join in added his voice to the chorus.

“I found one that fits the bill a few hours ago.” A raspy elderly voice mixed in with all the noise. Dean recognized it. It belonged to the dog catcher that had entangled him in what looked like a big ass butterfly net. He was the reason Dean was here. He’d done the bare minimum caring for the Pitbull bite. Dean transferred most of the front weight to his left paw. The ache of his right shoulder thrummed in sync with the beating of his little heart. Dean had to be the one to fit the bill.

All Dean could view in his line of sight were soiled, grass-stained tan pants from the knees down and dirty brown combat boots. Pride filled his lungs. The tug of war he’d put up in the net brought the dog catcher to the ground. Their scrap amidst dirt and weeds and a flounce in a mud puddle had left his mark on the human.

Human. Christ, it has to be her coming to claim me. Please.

Hope soared in Dean’s chest when his gaze clamped on the blue (which would be violet if he was looking through his human eyes) leather of a familiar pair of high-heeled ankle boots. A crepe skirt rivaling Joseph’s technicolor dreamcoat covered the boot tops and swished in time with the steps.

“I hope it’s him.” A barely audible female voice floated above, drowned out by the pound puppies’ cacophony.

Selina! Thank Christ! A tinny, high-pitched bark erupted from his throat. Down here! Down here!

Both pairs of boots stopped in front of him. “That’s him there,” the catcher added. A wrinkled finger pointed in his direction.

Selina’s figure descended. Hands gathered the skirt up as she settled into a squat.

Her big almond-shaped eyes, a tad oversized for the heart-shaped face, blinked in relief. Dean halted his bark in mid-yip. Instead of her usual deep purple irises - a breathtaking sight in and of themselves on any given day - he was met with equally captivating dark blue saucers, swirled with golden flecks. The sight of her large frame stirred up amazement.

She grinned. “Yep, that’s him!”

The dog catcher huffed and fumbled with the key into the padlock. “You should take better care of the mutt. No collar or chip. He’s lucky I found him.”

Lucky, my ass!

“He’s not a mutt,” Selina responded in her typical curt fashion. “Purebred beagle.”

“Aint never seen a beagle with green eyes ‘fore,” the dog catcher mumbled. He fished the padlock from out of the loop. “Or one with paws that damn big.” The cage door squeaked with Dean’s nose nudging it open. Dean bounced off his hind legs into Selina’s lap.

Selina slammed a hand on the concrete to remain upright. “Oh, thank God! Scooby!” She wrapped her free arm around Dean.

“Scooby, huh?” The old man removed his cap to smooth down the ten wiry hairs on his head.

Dean’s pulse began to slow, nestled tight and secure in Selina’s embrace. The scent he’d connected with her, spicy incense and pink bubblegum, enveloped his now small and furrier frame.

One back paw reared up and swatted repeatedly at one of his floppy ears.

“What happened to him?” Selina’s tender touch caressed the gauze bandage.

“Got ‘imself in some trouble. Looked to be an animal bite.”

Dean’s lids clamped tight. He cocked his head and continued to flick and dig his paw into the spot behind his ears. Maybe if he used his claws.

“Does he… have fleas?” Selina asked in a tone that regrettably already knew the answer.

Fleas? Dean whined, still scratching. Why the fuck not? On top of everything else.

“We’re gonna take care of this, Dean. Promise.” Selina white-knuckled the steering wheel, hands at ten and two. Her lithe, petite frame perched on the edge of the bench. It was the only way she could reach the Impala’s gas pedal.

Dean languished on the passenger side and sunk into the center of the seat. It was still dark out. Street lamps popped overhead in a rhythmic pattern and spilled light through the windshield. Cobblestone-paved streets jostled the chassis. His baby usually drove like a tank with barely a hiccup; all smooth sailing. He wondered how much the bumpy ride had to do with the road condition under the tires or the person driving his car.

He sighed, closed his eyes, and shivered at the pinprick, itchy tingle of his skin.

Apparently, the spell Selina had cast didn’t include telepathy. No matter how much he wished for her to reach under the seat, feel for the damn bar to pull the bench forward to close the distance between her and the wheel, she wasn’t tuned into his mental signals.

Dean straightened his front legs and stiffened his elbows at the sudden screech of tires. His paws dug into the leather. He lurched forward with the momentum, watching Selina do the same from the driver’s seat. Once they settled to a stop, she stared over at him with a regretful frown. “Sorry. I haven’t driven in a while.”

Dean slitted his lids and yipped.

“It’s not much farther to the shop.” The pointy toe of her boot met the gas pedal and the car sputtered along again. “Once I got a lock on your location and saw how far away you were, I didn’t have a choice but to take your car. But don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of this, Dean.”

You already said that. Dean’s little barks echoed in the Impala’s interior.

“I know you’re trying to tell me something. But I can’t read your mind.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Man, you’ve got a powerful set of puppy lungs. Want some good news? I was able to lift the hoodoo trance off Esme. All thanks to you.”

Well, at least something good came out of this mess.

It was very good news. He was in New Orleans because his father sent him on a case to help out an old friend. The old friend happened to be a witch doctor named Esmerelda. Esme for short.

Dean’s boots had hit Danneel Street and crossed the threshold of “Step on a Crack” Magical Notions Shop, which Esme owned, one day too late to prevent the inevitable escalation. Esme had been cursed and was unsure when the fallout would take full effect. She hadn’t stepped on a crack but the toes of a powerful voodoo priestess in the French Quarter. That’s why he and Selina had partnered up. To save her teacher, who’d been rendered catatonic. Esme was currently being watched and cared for by the coven, whose members were taking shifts at her bedside.

Glad your mentor is on the mend. That’s even better for me. She can probably zap me back quicker than you. Why aren’t we heading there?

“She’s still pretty weak, though, from what Harold told me over the phone.”

Dean huffed.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know you wanted to turn into a German Shepherd. But I did say I couldn’t guarantee what kind of dog breed the spell would transform you into. That’s not in my control.” Selina tangled her hands one over the other along the steering wheel column in a clumsy fashion. Dean swayed to the right with Selina’s left turn. “I’m pretty sure, though, the shop’s got some things that will take care of your fleas while we wait out the magic.”

It was true. Selina hadn’t guaranteed much about the spell. And it had been his idea to try it when they rifled through the pages of an ancient grimoire. The voodoo priestess had stitched some warding around her property, only permitting certain humans to cross. An animal transformation made perfect sense.

Dean groaned and rubbed the side of his head into the backrest to ease the itch. Fleas better not have been part of Selina’s witchcraft.

Dean scrabbled paws along the slippery marble floor, trying in vain to sit upright. Every time he thought he’d achieved a precarious balance, his body toppled. He’d starfished, even done a few Bambi-on-ice skating maneuvers waiting for Selina in the tiny bathroom. Claustrophobia settled in, though it’d only been a few minutes since she promised to return and closed the door behind her.

How old was this puppy skin he inhabited? All of Dean - his mind, sensibilities, and humanity - wrapped up tight in this fur burrito felt like him, except when it didn’t. Curious instinct made its presence known. Once he relented on the sitting still attempt, his nose glued to the floor and led the inspecting. He tried to zone in on something interesting to escape the fear. And the endless itching he’d been ordered not to scratch. When Dean thought about it, it wasn’t that different from any given human day.

Overhead, water poured out of the claw foot tub’s red copper faucet. Steam plumed over the deep basin. The impending bath temperature also drew concern. Being a beagle was terrible enough. A boiled beagle? Hell no!

Flared nostrils filled with the overwhelming scent of Selina. A sense of calm broke through the nagging flight response. He’d been in the small apartment only once since arriving in Louisiana. Perched over the magic shop, his first step into her home had flooded his sight. It was a treasure trove of textiles and trinkets blazing with gemstone brilliance. Shelves stuffed with books. Glass jars of unidentifiable powders. Vials of transparent or opaque liquids. Everything a young witch needed to learn the craft.

She smelled nice before. He’d caught whiffs of her here and there when he passed her frame on his human feet. But his canine senses were picking up every atomized particle now. He spotted a forgotten hairbrush hiding in the corner and catapulted forward to claim it. His speed and the slick marble took away any ability to stop in a semblance of elegance. He face-palmed into the rubber tines of the brush. Tangled hair in the brush tickled his nose, and rapid inhales took more of her into his lungs. Yeah. This was nice. It felt good. Safe. He debated chewing.

The door creaked. Dean spun in a flash and let out a pathetic growl of defense, having painted himself into a corner with no way out. Selina stepped inside, paying him no attention. The giantess silenced him with only her presence.

“Apple cider vinegar.” She held up a bottle in victory, clutching a few small droppers in the other hand. They clattered from her grip into the pedestal sink. Sitting on the tub edge, she uncapped the vinegar and emptied the contents with a rhythmic glug into the water.

Drops splattered up and out of the tub, landing near Dean. He flinched. Doggie brain told him this was not going to be pleasant.

“Okay.” Fingers twisted first one faucet knob, then the other, shutting off the flow. Her arm dipped into the water. Dean’s ear perked up at the sloshes. “Not too bad.”

Says you.

“Come on, Dean.” Her wet hand gestured with a come hither.

You know, I might be able to hang on until the spell wears off. I’m good.

Selina sighed. “You’re gonna make me come over there, aren’t you?” She slinked on the floor, knees stretching the fabric of her skirt as she crawled towards him on all fours.

Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.

His insistence fell on deaf ears. She snatched him up in a second. The next, he dangled above the water. Her hands cupped him under whatever a dog’s version of armpits were. He kicked and wriggled. Whined and whimpered.

“It’s okay.” She submerged his hind quarters like a tea bag in and out three times until he gave in and went limp in her arms to steep. “Not gonna hurt you, no matter what you think of witches.” She leaned him forward with care. “Good boy.” When she let him go, he stood in warm water that rose up to just meet his back.

He shivered, puppy heartbeat racing. His nose twitched at the acidity of the vinegar additive. The sound of skin rubbing together crept up behind him. “Next ingredient we need is peppermint.” A soap bar popped into his peripheral vision. It smelled of candy mints left atop a restaurant check, then absentmindedly stuffed in a jacket pocket. “Okay?” she asked.

You gonna stop if I say no? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Okay, so Dean had to admit to himself - even if he’d never cop to Selina - the bath hadn’t been that bad. Selina had a gentle but firm touch. She’d sudsed all of his coat, lifting him first from the front and then the back end. She apologized for getting a little more intimate than Dean had expected with his little puppy prick and ass. The fleas could be anywhere, she reminded him. As the tub drained, she sprayed water from the shower wand and rinsed him clean.

Once he was taken out of the tub and laid atop one towel, another enveloped and rubbed until his fur was damp and not dripping. She communicated all of her actions beforehand. The dropper bottles contained various oils to help rid Dean of the dreaded fleas. With fabric under his paws, he sat tall and tilted his head to study Selina while she worked. She smiled at him, patiently naming each essential or botanical oil she squeezed into a water bottle: Almond, Cedar, Eucalyptus, Lavender.

The concoction soothed immediately on contact. The mix of smells dispelled the last remnants of his anxiety. Delicate, soft fingers caressed his coat and threaded through the fur to find the skin. The blissful massage helped chase away the panic. Yet another thing he’d never admit to Selina. If he ever got the chance to admit anything to her with his human voice again. Weirdly, he seemed perfectly willing to accept such a fate. Maybe things could be much, much worse after all.

After tidying some of the bathroom mess, Selina opened the door and ushered him forth. Dean’s legs scampered toward the makeshift doggie water bowl beside the bank of kitchen cabinets. One would have thought he’d never want to dip his snout in water again. But he gobbled and slurped with his tongue like he hadn’t drank a drop in days. He didn’t know how much time had passed before a plate of cut-up deli ham had been deposited alongside the bowl. He was greedy for that as well. Fangs hooked into the meat. He hitched his head upwards to encourage the food down his throat.

“I know human food isn’t the best for you… like this. But let’s hope we don’t have to experience the results and the spell wears off before then.” Selina commented, leaning against the countertop. “Do you need to go outside and do some business?”

Again, without any say in the matter, Dean’s head sprung upright to lock his gaze on the sweet human caretaker at the words “go outside.” He mulled it over. He’d pissed in the nearest grass as soon as they’d left the pound. An impressively long and satisfying leak. He wanted to shake his head “No” but couldn’t do it. Instead, his eyes tracked a small rug by a chair. His claws clicked along the hardwood - thank god the entire floor wasn’t marble - to what he decided would make a perfect resting spot. He corkscrewed his frame into a compact fur ball atop the cushy velvet and let out a deep, well-earned sigh.

“Good idea. I’m beat, too.” She pointed somewhere behind Dean. “Can get a few hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be able to find out how long the spell will last with a clearer head in the morning.” She shrugged. The motion appeared to loosen a yawn from her throat. “But, maybe you’ll wake up all back to normal.”

Dean yawned in return, finishing it with a high-pitched squeak.

Selina giggled. “You are adorable, Dean Winchester. Night.”

Too exhausted to be any more humiliated, Dean’s tail thumped softly in response. He closed his eyes. Clean. Warm. Cozy. Well fed. Watched over.

He drifted off, hard-pressed to recall the last time he’d ever been all those things.

Dean’s running. His puppy paws gallop atop the soft, giving earth of a field. He’s darting through the wheat. His snout cuts through the crops, scraped by wispy stalks.

He can hear how heavy he’s panting. The exertion and speed has his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

But he’s not running from something.

Dean’s just running. Because he can.

He breaks through and into a clearing. The sun’s rays warm his furry coat. He spots a quintessential farmhouse in the distance. He can see the large wrap-around porch. A pair of rocking chairs. Off to one side is a laundry line studded with freshly washed clothes, flapping in the breeze. An oak tree, taller than the two-story home, stands guard along the other side. A tire swing dangles from one of its sturdy branches. A few white cotton candy clouds rest above it all in the bluest of skies.

He feels the farmhouse calling to him. He just knows. It’s home.

All the colors of the rainbow that his human eyes normally detect fill his vision. He zig zags between a row of apple trees, closing the distance. A fallen apple halts him. He sniffs; the sweetness is too good to pass up. He gnashes into the mealy flesh, attacking it from all angles. He tongues the juices into his welcoming throat.

“Deeaaan!”

His head snaps up. That voice beckons him home. He resumes his sprint. That voice. He hasn’t heard it in ages.

He cuts through a tall patch of sunflowers to find the voice's owner waiting for him, seated on the porch steps.

“There you are!” Sam calls out. He tosses a tennis ball a few feet in the air above his head, catching it without having to glance at his palm. This Sam is young. Thirteen or so. He’s spindly, a toothpick with knobby joints, and a smile that takes up half his face.

Just like he remembers.

“Mom said we’ve got time before dinner.” Sam juggles the ball from one hand to the other.

Mom. Mom’s here.

“Ready?” Sam asks, winding his arm back for a killer pitch.

Dean yips.

Dean yipped himself awake.

It’s morning.

He’s still a beagle.

Selina watched as Dean did his business in the backyard of the Magic Shop. Unlucky, she had to experience the results of feeding puppy Dean human food. But she didn’t complain, picking up after him. “All done? How about some breakfast? Eggs and bacon sound good?”

That sounds amazing to Dean. But he’s beginning to think Selina is a glutton for punishment.

The bacon sizzled in the cast iron pan. Selina explained why Dean was still walking on four legs instead of two. “So, even though the magic worked and Esme’s on the mend, I should probably have bound your reversal spell in with that enchantment to speed things along. You would have been human by the time the full moon set this morning.” She fished a couple pieces of bacon out of the pan with a fork and laid them atop some paper towels. “I’m pretty sure it’ll wear off by tomorrow. If it doesn’t, Harold said he’ll come by and see what he can do. He doesn’t want to leave Esme yet. I’ll ask one of the other witches if you can’t wait, though.”

Dean knew that Selina trusted Harold almost as much as Esme. The other witches in the group were fickle and not the kindest to Selina, from what Dean saw firsthand. Witches, man. Dean trotted over and sat by one of Selina’s legs. He rubbed his face along her smooth calf. She looked even younger in her sleep shorts and t-shirt. Still massive, though.

“I will, Dean. I’ll eat crow for my mistake. You’ve done more than anyone would’ve for someone they don’t even know.”

A friend of Dad’s doesn’t get left behind. It’s cool, Selina. How about some bacon to smooth things over?

“What does that whine mean?”

He raised up onto his haunches and leaned front paws on the oven door.

“Oh, bacon. Right.”

The rest of the day is easy, lazy. A day he hasn’t felt in a while. Not since Sammy left him.

The days without his brother have brought out more of the hard lines and jagged points in John’s countenance. Deep down, Dean wants to hope it’s not him bringing that out in their father. That it’s the void, the empty spot that used to contain Sam that no longer filters out the hate and hurt; that used to misdirect all that drill sergeant behavior. His little shit of a sibling was all of John’s fervent focus of protection for so long. Dean sees it plain as day. John doesn’t know what to do with all his feelings. So he bottles them up. Drinks them away. Or spats them out at Dean, chipping away at him.

Dean has been coping with his feelings as best as John. Realizing he’s handling the broken compass in his core the same way. Nose down. Find a job. Work the case. Kill the monster. Fill the despair with a win. Fill the despair with booze. Inflict rage on any other to empty out the despair. Stoke passion in any other to empty out the despair.

Anything and everything to kick the can down the line. Because he’s realized - Sam was his hope and lifeline as much as he was dad’s. And, without him, well, he doesn’t really know what’s left.

He’s been tossed a lifeline here and there when he’s built up the nerve to call Sam at Stanford—only a handful of times over the past couple of years. The knots and twists in his stomach unfurled when Sam picked up the phone. Accepted and acknowledged his presence. That he’s still here, he remembers he has a brother. Even when that brother had to risk the wrath of John if he ever found out a connection was made.

But this day, wrapped in fur, small, and defenseless, he’s reminded of what could be left for him. Selina softened around him in his puppy form. Her smiles widened. She shined sweet and gentle.

They holed up in the apartment for safety. Scampered out to the backyard for potty breaks and played fetched with a tennis ball. It’s the sunniest day he’s felt in years. Warm. Light. Clear. Fresh.

It’s the snuggles at the end of that day that he loved the best. Allowed entry into Selina’s bedroom. Allowed to hop onto the mattress and curl atop the crushed velvet comforter. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Dean. No one gets to spend the night in my bed.”

He pushed in close, nuzzled into the layers that separated their bodies. Her energy - different, charged, holding what he thinks is potential magic - gives him comfort.

He slept like a baby.

“Oh! Dean!” Selina screamed.

Dean eyes popped open.

He’s chilly.

Bigger.

He’s back.

He’s naked.

“Shit!” Dean barked out in his human voice. He glanced at Selina's side of the bed. An upheld hand shielded her view. A racing heart matched the speed of his legs swinging off the bed, standing up.

But he doesn’t have a fucking clue where his clothes are.

Selina pointed to the bedroom door, still not daring to look at him. “Living room. Side table, by the chair.” She squeaked.

He fled the scene, spotted his folded clothes. Faster than a cowboy caught fooling around with a farmer’s daughter, he donned his underwear, t-shirt, and jeans. He called out, “All clear. Nothing more to see here!” His cheeks blazed with humiliation under his attempt at nonchalance.

Selina crept through the doorway. Cheeks red and flamed. Excited, amused, and happy. Remnants of the smiles bestowed upon him yesterday in his canine form. “You’re back,” she sighed.

Dean outstretched his arms for display purposes. “I’m back.”

“How do you feel? Any different? Weird?”

He stopped to actually think, taking a moment to process. “Um, kind of hungover.”

Selina nodded, exhaled. “Okay. That’s normal, from what I’ve been told.”

Dean chuckled. “Nothing normal about this.”

“For us, it is.” Selina corrected.

Selina doesn’t skimp on the bacon for breakfast.

The celebratory feast tasted sublime, well-earned. He was starving.

Sat around the small bistro table, they talked as they ate. Their conversations before the spell had been curt, filled with sass. Selina had snapped at him with every one of her responses. He’d understood, of course. Even if he hadn’t given her an inch of understanding in his smart-ass attitude. She’d been under immense pressure. The stakes were high, and the outcome relied heavily on her ability not to screw up.

Man, did he understand.

Now, they’d both mellowed with the shared experience. Relief. Success. Dean cataloged every inch of her. Human eyes took in all the vibrant colors hidden from his doggie view. Her purple eyes and porcelain skin held an ethereal quality. A tad punk with violet highlights and a nose ring. She was beautiful.

“What was it like?” Selina dolloped more scrambled eggs on his plate. She leaned in, hanging on his every morsel of information.

“Man,” Dean snorted. “Trapped in a funhouse mirror, with none of the fun.”

“But, you still felt like you?”

“Yep.” He chomped away on a strip of bacon.

“You understood me,” she stated. “I could tell.”

He tilted his head in question.

Selina giggled. “Yeah, you’d give me one of those expressions like you were thinking things over. Wanting to communicate.”

“Hmmm,” Dean nodded. Lips smacked. He wanted to ask in a way that didn’t make it seem like he was overly concerned about the answer. “I know you said there wasn’t any telepathic stuff going on… you couldn’t read any of my thoughts?”

Her head shook, matter of fact. “Not a one. Which would have been super helpful if I could’ve. You typically can’t get that kind of bond or connection at my level. And, more often than not, that’s pretty rare. A familiar type situation.”

He chewed his thoughts down.

“I wouldn’t have pulled off the reversal spell that cured Esme if it hadn’t been for your plan.” Selina sipped her coffee.

Dean cocked his head, emphasizing the ridiculousness of that statement. “You would’ve figured something out.”

“Not as quick as I needed to.” Selina shook her head. “Not without your help. Making it so that the reversal spell had to be performed by the greenest of Esme’s students and without any coven assistance… the priestess wanted it to be next to impossible.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

Selina grinned. “Even with fleas?”

Dean shivered. “Yeah, that I could’ve done without.”

“I’m glad you came back all in one piece. I was really worried there would be some pet residue. Like a tail or floppy ears.”

“I don’t know,” Dean contemplated. “A tail might come in handy.”

The thought had them both laughing.

“So,” Selina began, “any chance that brother you mentioned, Sam, is gonna find out about any of this?”

“No way. Not ever.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I hope you get to see him soon. The way you talk about him. He seems like a pretty great guy. I don’t think he’d tease you too much about being a beagle.”

“You don’t know, Sam.” Dean almost added he probably didn’t know him anymore, either, but pursed his lips shut.

“I owe you, big time.” Selina offered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I should get dressed and we should go out. Let me take you on a proper tour of New-or-lins.” Selina drawled, “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

Dean swallowed hard and locked eyes with her. “I don’t know. We could probably just stay in and find some ways to let the good times roll.”

Selina side-eyed him, but Dean sensed the interest brewing underneath the show. “Didn’t you say you’d rather roll around in the mud with a pig than ingratiate yourself with a witch when we first met?”

He shrugged. “I think I can make an exception for you.”

Selina held a hand to her chest. “I’m honored.”

He grinned. “You should be.”

The moment was perfect for Dean to lean over and kiss her.

Of course, that’s when John called.

John needed him. There was no time for a tour of the French Quarter or even a half hour of good times in Selina’s apartment.

Dean stood at the door and waited as Selina packed him a breakfast sandwich for the road. “Don’t you think you’ve fed me enough?”

She waved a hand in the air, walking towards him. “Hard to tell. You never stop eating.”

He grabbed the bag she presented. “Thanks.”

“It’s the very least I could do. Thank you again, Dean.”

Instinctively, he wrapped her up in a hug. “Anytime.”

She whispered in his ear. “Next time you swing by, look me up.”

He breathed in the scent of her - wanting something else to remember her by - and placed a kiss atop her forehead. Anything more and he knew he’d never leave. “Absolutely.”

It wasn’t until he descended the stairs and was out the back door, away from Selina’s view, that he gave into the urge to paw at his ear like a dog.

Yeah, the next time he called Sam - which he felt would be soon - there was no way he was telling him about any of this.

Well, he might mention the beautiful witch he met in New Orleans with the purple eyes. And how she had been just the thing he needed to scratch that itch.

#deanwbigbang #spn fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #spn fanart

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noblesixofhalo · 7 months

Text

Fallout Bebop Chapter 2

*It's technically chapter 1 since the first post was the introduction and prolouge*

Approaching the atmosphere of Earth was a large spaceship around 145 meters long (476 feet) that went by the name of Bebop. It was a former fishing vessel that was originally a prewar ship on Earth before scientists from the Brotherhood of Steel managed to convert it into a functional spaceship. However despite that, it found its home on Ganymede Jupiter's largest moon used to catch and transport fish on the seas in Ganymede. However it was later commandeered again by the IBOS and converted back into a spaceship. Later the Bebop was purchased second-hand by Jet, who installed larger engines and upgraded the communication system.

An annoyed and whiny voice echoed through the hall of the ship breaking the silence.

"Jet, why the fuck are we returning back to Earth, all they have down there are ugly ghouls, gross mutant creatures and *shuddering* those things....."

A young woman in her 20s complained as an older gentlemen rolled his eyes at the insistent whining from her, not like the other one was any better as he grumbled at the two would just moments ago were arguing over something childish. The young women went by the name Faye Valentine, a woman notorious for getting what she wants thanks to her charms and wits. She must have put a ton of effort in both luck and charisma using the SPECIAL book, courtesy of Vault Tec. She is a mysterious woman who has racked up tons of debts and has engaged in all sorts of bad habits from smoking, drinking, gambling, along with other vices.

"I told you already Faye, we just got a word in that there's bounty out there for a ghoul by the name of Marcos who has been accused of murdering several settlers in the New California Republic. I know that the IBOS don't like Earthlings and considers Earth a lost cause, hell they don't even consider the original Brotherhood of Steel to be worthy of the name 'brotherhood', regardless the award is 70,000 woolongs."

"Not like you can spend all that money on Earth, these sad saps prefer to use bottlecaps instead of real currency."

Replied a tall and lanky man by name of Spike Spigel, a young 27-year-old man who was born in Mars in the year 2241 and lived his whole life free from the horrors of the atomic wastes. He was 6 feet and 1 inch tall and weighed around 155 pounds. He had fluffy hair and brown eyes and routinely smoked even when during stormy nights and around places that forbid smoking.

"That's not even 500 prewar US dollars, Jet why are we wasting our time on that shithole called Earth when there are plenty of assholes to catch throughout the solar system?"

"You want to eat, well that's only one that they have right now in the database. I can check the terminal again but you ain't getting anything else for fresh meat. Bob has nothing else for me right now. We're almost out of food as it is."

"Fuck, fine let's go."

"And this time, don't forget any Rad-X or Radaway, we almost lost you the last time we had a mission on Earth!"

"Whatever Dad."

"Both of you, Spike and Faye get your shit together and come meet me by the loading bay. We'll be touching down shortly."

Jet barked at the two as he prepared his gear for deployment out on the atomic wastes. Jet donned some combat armor on him to deal with potential trouble such as the local pests like Radscorpions, mirelurks, and mongrel dogs along with deadlier creatures like deathclaws or worse yet, other humans like raiders and other degenerate killers. Jet is skilled with handguns having possessed several handguns ranging from the typical 10mm pistol the N99 pistol to the 9mm pistol used by the NCR along with other weapons from the prewar era. He even had some handling of certain laser weapons such as laser pistols like the AEP-7 laser pistol regarded as one of the weaker energy weapons, it still would get the job done.

Meanwhile Faye equipped herself with her trusty 10mm submachine gun, a H&K MP9 submachine gun that is used by all sorts of factions and outlaws in the atomic wastes.

Spike usually went with his trusty 10mm pistol or if he wanted to be a real cowboy, a .44 magnum revolver perfect for on super mutants or other deadly creatures out there.

"We're approaching the landing area, it will take some time to reach the last known location of our friend Marcos, make sure you have plenty of Rad-X and Radaway. We don't have the caps or the amount of woolongs needed to patch you two clowns up."

"We got it Jet, Jesus."

"We'll meet here once Marcos has been captured. Do you have everything before heading out?"

"You think this magnum is enough to take down a deathclaw?"

Spike smirked as they suited up for the wasteland. At least one of them had a pip-boy on them to keep track of the bounty and the location in case they got lost along the way.

"Any ghoul that gives me even the slightest look is going to get shot."

"Jesus Faye, I didn't realize that you we're that racist towards ghouls. Awww what's wrong, did some ghoul rob you of your hard earn caps from gambling too much?"

"Can it Spiegel, this planet has nothing but radiation and dirty looking Earthlings on here".

"Keep your prejudice to yourself Valentine, we're going to Goodsprings and the residents have ghouls living there, so I suggest you keep your mouth shut and don't fuck up this mission."

"Jeeez I'm not going fuck up Jet."

"Listen to yourself, you sound like a child."

Faye simply rolled her eyes at Jet before they touched down about a 2 kilometers from Goodsprings. Goodsprings was a prewar town that is located in the Mojave Wasteland, a region of former the United States that was contested by both the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion, a totalitarian expansionist dictatorship that seeks to dominate the Mojave Wasteland and perhaps one day will conquer the NCR completely and subsume the entire population under its banner.

The large spaceship landed touching the ground of the Mojave Wasteland. Despite it earning the name wasteland, the Mojave Wasteland did not really have much radiation to worry about. Regardless, Jet being like a father to Spike and Faye had them take a dose of Rad-X and have Rad-away with them in case.

The three emerged from the Bebop sans Ein, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi that is a data dog with human intelligence created thanks to in part by the Brotherhood of Steel. Keeping Ein on board was perhaps for the safety of the dog. While intelligent, Ein was no match for a deathclaw or super mutants so losing Ein would be a major blow for the Bebop crew.

"Alright we'll be back hopefully in a few days, Ein watch the ship, *muttering* stupid mutt.

Spike said grumbling at the dog, the data dog simply barked at him as if to say "fuck you" to his comment about him.

"I really hope I don't get attacked by the wildlife."

Faye whined as they began their trek out towards Goodsprings and to get their target, Marcos the ghoul.

"Jet, this is why I hate kids, women with attitudes and animals, all they do is complain and take up space and overall act as a burden."

"Nothing good comes from Earth anymore".

Jet said, Spike concurred as they continued to listen to Faye complain about the heat outside in the Mojave Wasteland, the constant whining about the wildlife and pestering them about "what if I get bit by a radscorpion?" "What if I get kidnapped by raiders?" All this insistent complaining was enough to drive the two men insane.

End credits

*Maybe by the "Ink Spots" plays in the background*

Maybe you'll think of me when you are all alone. Maybe the one who is waiting for you. Will prove untrue, then what will you do?

Maybe you'll sit and sigh, wishing that I were near. Then maybe you'll ask me to come back again. And maybe I'll say "Maybe".

Maybe you'll think of me when you are all alone. Maybe the one who is waiting for you. Will prove untrue, then what will I do?

Maybe you'll sit and sigh, wishing that I were near. Then maybe you'll ask me to come back again. And maybe I'll say "Maybe".

See you space cowboy.

End of Chapter 1

#spike speigal #jet black #faye valentine #ein cowboy bebop #fallout new vegas #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #fallout fanfic #see you space cowboy

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00angelyoon · 8 months

Text

“𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘀.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

its not exclusive to kpop but its mostly kpop.

also these songs are and can be popular its just songs i like right now so it will update whenever i feel like it.

. ‘𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐥.’ listen this is a bop. like leave my kidz bop girlie alone, its a masterpiece simply. like be for real such a pretty fucking song. i really love the part where she’s like “i’m the baddest you’ve ever seen.” the chorus is so catchy.

.‘𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗼𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝘁𝘆.’ just again such a pretty song, like whoever is making their songs is doing such a good job, like my second favorite song right now. its literally my most streamed track. please i beg go listen to this song right now. like the “eopjani.” part is so good and the pre chorus is so perfect

“idubilu by seventeen ppu unit.” this is no doubt my favourite song currently, the lyrics are so perfect so pretty. minghao’s chorus has me in a fucking chokehold, like i bark when it comes on. jun and hao’s pre chorus is something else bro, i love love hoshi’s rap so so much and that’s coming from a vocal girlie. giving the post chorus or whatever to the china line is the best thing pledis has ever done ever, chan sings like the angels above and thats all that matters.

“light a flame by seventeen ‘96 line.” listen to this song now. so beautiful like I'm literally listening to it right now. wonwoo’s voice is so handsome and because of that fucking chorus he can curb stomp me snd i’d thank him no doubt about i. Hoshi is an honorary member of the vocal team like he eats cds for breakfast microphones for lunch and albums for dinner. woozi and juns “we already know losing control.” verse, is just i can’t explain my love for it in words and the power it holds over me.

“thirsty by aespa.” so perfect, ningning really popped off in this song it was really her era. the second part of the song is the best part, just so pretty also so good when you’re doing your hair or getting ready to go out, makes me feel so so cozy.

“what it is by doechii.” doechii ate, no crumbs left plate devoured fucking simple. her vocals sound so so good. she didn’t come to play at all, she went into the studio prepared.

“look here by bts.” it’s very retro and funky and cute just simply mwah. the part were jungkook and jimin were harmonising or whatever they were doing together is my favourite part in the song.

“shh by kiss of life.” now this is how you debut take fucking notes.

“like crazy by jimin.” its my 3rd favourite song right now, like i like it so much that i wrote a fic inspired it, a quote for this song was my description. the “the moon embraces you.” part in korean is my favourite part in the song.

“blue flames by le sserafim.” its so retro and fun love it so so much. the “that that is faction.” part is literally my description right now its so cute the only part i don’t like is kazuha’s part at the end but other than that this song is certified bop.

“knock by chaeyeon.” it’s so cute. the pre chorus is so pretty. i’m just loving it so much. literally just because of this song she’s become my favourite soloist, can’t wait for her new comeback.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　�� 　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

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