#1spookstar

[owlapin]

cosmo sex tip #89473:

while giving your partner a blowjob sensually yell 'BASPINGO!' around their dick

[saints-row-2]

I Missed You

[Skully gave me this as a fanfic prompt earlier and frankly as theres a distinct lack of 1spookstar i wrote a weird vague little fic about it i hope it's?? not too confusing]

I

But everything isn’t alright and you grit your teeth with frustration you aren’t sure is directed at you or him. You are still smiling but maybe that’s just because it’s cut into your face. He runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment you think he is going to speak but whatever it was he was going to say dies in his throat and the two of you are left in awkward silence.

Whatever made it so easy between the two of you is floundering, the years of separation causing an almost physical block. You had hoped the two of you would be able to pick up where you left off but that just isn’t going to happen. He looks so much like he did back then. His face is older but his eyes are the same, that intense sharp yellow you have never seen on anyone else. When you were away you would look for those eyes in crowds, but never found anything that came close.

The two of you are both waiting for the other to speak but there is nothing to say. You have ruined the moment.

II

“I missed you too,” he says, the words falling from his mouth at the same pace as the droplet of blood that clings to his lip. He whispers the words, and they make your heart pound in your chest so hard you hear the blood in your ears. You do not know the story of the bruises on his arms but you make them worse when you grasp his forearms and pull him closer to you. You want to kiss him but his eyes are dulling as he slips into unconsciousness and you struggle to hold him up as he collapses against you. 

You have mixed feelings. He missed you too, you think. For all the time you were gone he did not forget you. Maybe he used to look for you the same way you would search for him, that useless, helpless spring of hope that you had never totally managed to crush even when you had thought you were the lowest you could ever be. 

He is peaceful. You do not know what to do with him, your arms entangled round each other as he rests against you. You wonder how long it has been since he last slept. You wonder how much of the lost sleep is your fault. 

III

“I missed you,” he says it in a panic and you realise how this must look, with your hands clamped around his wrists like vices. You feel close to vomiting- you haven’t eaten all day and your stomach is the Gordian knot. There is electricity running through your whole body but it isn’t fun or exciting, you feel like your veins are burning and you are so scared. You don’t know what you’re scared of but you are terrified. 

It’s him that’s thundering through your mind and you feel overloaded and the only thing stopping you from screaming is the grip you have on him. He’s anchoring you to the world and when he looks right at you, you know he understands that. Suddenly his arms are around you and he’s telling you to breathe and now you can, your lungs dragging in ragged air as your face is pressed into his neck. You can still see the shiny mark of scars on his neck and you feel guilt from all those years ago.

You didn’t think he’d forgive you, you didn’t know if you’d forgive him, and you’re certain you are not going to forgive yourself. Your heart is pumping pure venom and both of you are shaking, his fingernails digging into your spine. He’s him he’s the same he’s…

You don’t know if the nickname applies anymore. 

But he’s him and he’s real and he’s solid and he missed you.

IV

“I missed you,” you breathe the words into his mouth as you kiss, his hand clutching your heart, feeling every pulse. It’s not just the two of you as you feel fingertips run down your arms, but that’s the way you like it. There is hot breath on your neck and hands all over you and normally it would be too much but for now, just for now, you’re drinking up the attention. 

The air around you is so hot your skin is prickling with sweat but you stop caring about that when there are fingernails on your spine and teeth on your neck and you are straining to breathe in the best way possible. You are burning, but this is how you want to burn. This is the pain you crave.

You don’t know which one said it- maybe it was both- but someone’s voice is heard.

“I missed you. I love you.” 

Not loved. Love.

[bibimbang]

may 11-12, 2013 shirtless licking and things

[faggylittlenuisance]

Immanis Automata, Part 2: A Steampunk 1SpookStar Fanfiction.

Introducing Part 2 of Immanis Automata. When we last left the boys, they had just come home from the park, heads spinning with talk of change and freshly minted as 'The Spook Troop.' 

We'll pick up from the next morning, wherein the young scally-wags take a step further down the rabbit hole.

Rating: Still T, for blood and swearing and other such things.

ACT 1, PART 2: Where the Streets have No Name

The scent of urine baking in the sun hit Gabe's nostrils sharply, his mouth and nose wrinkling in disgust. His boots thudded loudly against the cobblestone, but couldn't be heard even slightly over the rumble of the bustling street, men and women and machines, talking and laughing and whirring. Somewhere, a baby was crying.

Sidling over to Moore Street, Gabe felt a soft tug on his vest and looked down swiftly. A homeless man with large hood covering his face was sitting cross-legged, his hands covered in ragged, dirty, green gloves that looked as though they must have been expensive, a long time ago. He reeked of cheap whiskey and faded cigar smoke, his shoulders slumped as though the world had once rested on his shoulders and left them permanently disfigured.

"Excuse me, my boy, I don't meant to be bold, but could you spare a few coins for a beggar so old?"

"Er, hang on a second..." Gabe rifled through his pockets, finding a few spare pieces of silver and dropping them into the vagrant's gloved hands. He still couldn't make out the man's features what-so-ever, and it was unsettling.

"Thank you kindly, young man."

"Yeah, no problem..." Ducking his head, Gabe walked away quickly, slipping through the masses toward Jericho's house. Only four blocks left.

The shadow of an airship loomed over him, the breeze it generated swept his red coat around his calves and scattered leaves through the draft, frenzied dancers in frenzied colours.

Even as far away as he was, it was easy to see Jericho's house. An older wood and brass deal with a wrap-around porch, the house wouldn't have stood out amongst its neighbours, but the immense, moving structure fixed to the roof made it a bit of a spectacle.

Another long dead ancestor invented it; he had always wanted to be an artist, but the family business is the family business. It was a working model of the moon cycles, softly glowing orbs careened through a whirling copper structure, displaying which phase the moon was in, and where it was in the sky. 

The rowan tree in the yard murmured in the wind, over-ripe berries dropping from its boughs. Stepping up to the lacquered front door, Gabe knocked loudly, hoping the echo would catch Jericho's attention from wherever he was in the house. Instead, his mum answered the door with a slight smile.

"Hey, Gabriel. Jericho's upstairs in his workshop, as usual. I think he's been in there all night." 

"I wasn't." The aforementioned progeny appeared behind his mother, cheek smeared with something black and a bandage on his hand.

"Oh? Then where were you, you little scamp?"

"Around." 

She lightly smacked his arm, the exasperated huff leaving her lungs betrayed by the smile in her eyes. "What are you two up to now?"

"We're gonna go vvisit a friend of Gabe's and then grab Johnny ffrom work." Jericho replied, pulling on his shoes.

"Try to be home for supper, will you?"

"I'll try." With that, they were out the door.

"You have a streak of black shit on your cheek."

"Which one, you mandrake?"

"The one under your eyepatch, trollop." 

"Thanks." Wiping his cheek with a swift hand, he tipped his hat to Gabe with the other, one finger raised.

Snickering, they raced back down Moore Street, passing the rhyming vagrant and his green gloves, and through Verne Avenue, taking a sloping path down to the slums of Ludenwic. There, in the underbelly of the city, some of the most interesting people dwelled. Old Lady Griselda, who Gabe was absolutely sure must be over two hundred years old, lurked and skulked about the trash heaps, salvaging whatever she could find, constantly muttering darkly to herself. Gabe never could make out quite what she was saying.

There was the old man with the twirling mustache, often found on stoops or leaning at the entrance to alleyways. He smoked a pipe that let off purple smoke, and sparkled when the sunlight hit it through the lines of laundry and smog that infested the lower portion of the city.

Jericho's head bowed, face flushing slightly as a sharp trill echoed through the streets. Madame Catharina, a one legged, triple breasted ladybird, had taken quite a fancy to him and decided it would be a grand idea to whistle every time she saw him, trying to get his attention.

Gabe nudged him with an elbow, smirking, and in turn, received a punch to the shoulder. 

"Ffuck off."

Scrambling up the other side of the chasm that housed the poorer of Ludenwic's citizens, they stepped into a small shop and grabbed some sarsaparilla, for the both of them and Femina.

Glasses bottles clinking merrily beside him, Gabe glanced over at Jericho and uttered softly, "Hey. Is this... Is this really something you wanna do? I mean, I know we talk shit all the time, but if we're actually...  I wanna know how real this is getting."

"As real as we are, Gabe. I'm tired of the world. I want to change it. Evven iff it's just by blowing up some stupid airships."

"Good.

"So you're still 'in' when this gets really ffucking real?"

"Yeah man. Always."

" ... Don't get all gay on me now."

"When can I?" Gabe wiggled his eyebrows and fingers, smiling as creepily as he could.

"Later, you queen." He cringed suddenly, hand flying to his head and rubbing softly. "Ffuck..."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just a head ache. I haven't slept yet, I was too busy working on a project."

  Jericho had barely noticed when the sun came streaming in uninvited, hands deep in plans and constructs. He had had a brilliant idea on his way home, though he now felt it should have been obvious. What if, instead of sneaking around and planting bombs on the airships when they were grounded, what if the bombs themselves could fly?

On and on he worked, till his hand slipped and dragged along a piece of jagged scrap metal. Hissing quietly, he yanked it away from his handiwork, blood dripping across his work bench and on to the floor. Holding his hand up and trying not to spill on anything else, he crept into the bathroom across the hall, rinsing the wound out in the sink. The cut itself wan't all that deep, and would heal quickly enough, but it was in a bad spot and would be a pain in the ass while he was trying to complete his bomb building endeavor.

After wiping the cut down with anti-septic, Jericho wrapped it tightly in a bandage and flexed his fingers. It stung slightly, but it wasn't so bad that he couldn't work.

And work he did, till Gabe banged down his door.

The Alchemist's Guild Headquarters was a vast building on Ashton Street, a massive construct of thick stone and iron. The gate loomed over the street, twisting and ominous, like the black words in another language that ebbed and flowed over the surface of the stone like smoke. A strange glow radiated from the windows at night, an eerie, unsettling blue light. 

Gabe strode up and pulled open the heavy gate, the screech from its hinges ear-splitting. Jericho slid in first, walking up the large stone walkway to stand by the dense, oaken front door. The carvings in it were grotesque, images of devils and skulls and witchery and death. Jericho immediately loved it.

Swinging the gate shut behind him, Gabe ran to where his friend waited, and they both went inside.

The inner foyer of the building was dimly lit, with high vaulted ceilings. Large tapestries streamed down the walls, and an illustrious staircase dominated the opposite end of the room.

Gabe motioned for Jericho to follow him down a smaller, winding hallway off to the side of the entrance hall, which turned out to be much colder than outside had been. Drawing his coat closer, he held the bottles as still as he could, not wanting to disturb anyone working on potentially fatal experiments. After what seemed a long time, they reached a small wooden door, bearing a plaque which read 'Femina Allon'.

Gabe knocked softly, and not a moment later, a young woman with messy hair and even messier hands answered. "Hey, Gabe! What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you about something. I brought a friend. And drinks." He raised his hand and gave the sarsaparilla a friendly little shake.

"Don't shake it, you'll flatten it. Now, who is your friend?"

"I could ask you the same." Jericho offered his hand politely in spite of his teasing words. 

"As you must have seen from the plaque, Femina Allon, at your service. Please, call me Fem." She shook it firmly, her eyes meeting his own confidently.

"Jericho Chavvez. Please, call me Jericho."

"Chavez? As in, the Chavez Inventors?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose that means I'm meeting a real life genius, then?"

"Depends on your deffinition of genius."

A laugh was shared, and they came in and made themselves welcome in her room. Cracking a bottle, Fem asked, "So, what can I do for you boys?" and took a swig of her drink.

"We need some Aqua Regia, and ammonia." Jericho responded matter-of-factly.

"What are you and Gabe blowing up?"

"Nothing much. It's more... an experimentation. Much like the kind you and your colleagues do here."

"I call bullshit." Fem frowned, looking over at Gabe curtly.

"Fem, it's..." He sighed, shifting his legs. "Maybe we should tell her, man. I told you she's cool."

"Yes, you absolutely should tell me."

" ... How do I know I can trust you?" Jericho scowled, challenging her.

"You don't. But if you want those ingredients, you'll tell me."

The silence was deafening. An eternity passed, and Jericho caved. "Are you tired?"

"In what sense?"

"In every sense. Are you ffed up with it all? Wish you could change things?"

"Hell yes."

"We're planning on doing just that. I can't tell you evverything, obvviously, it would be stupid of me if I did."

"And I take it, by change things, you mean cause massive explosions somewhere?"

"Yes."

" ... Count me in. You can have whatever you need, so long as you let me go with you when it happens."

He exchanged a glance with Gabe, or at least, he tried to. Gabe currently had his eyes closed and his sarsaparilla bottle in his throat, chugging back the whole thing as fast as possible.

Rolling his eye, Jericho turned his attention back to Fem. "Maybe. If I think I can trust you at all by the time we go, you can come along. So far, Gabe was right about you, so I think I just might. A little."

"And what has Gabe been saying about me? I'd ask him myself, but he's busy deep-throating that bottle like there's no tomorrow."

Gabe's adams apple bobbed and his throat jolted, sarsaparilla and laughter spraying from his face.

"Jesus christ, now I know why Clyde always called you drippy lips."

Fem quirked an eyebrow and Gabe waved his hand dismissively, just barely rasping out, "Long story."

As they cleaned up the drink, Jericho's pocket jingled. 

When one of the gadgets received a signal from the others, a small gear inside the casing began to turn rapidly, hitting a flexible rod that tapped a bell in the upper right corner.

"Hey."

"Hey. We'll come grab you in a couple minutes."

"See you then."

Slipping the gadget back into his pocket, Jericho looked up at Fem. "So, about that stuff we need?"

She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "You got it."

  Mr. Mackenzie's shop rested between a confectioners and a haberdashers. The rickety buildings were all taller than they were wide, winding towards the sky like something out of a storybook. Across the front of the shop, in bright, golden letters, it read 'The White Room'. This was terribly ironic, because the building was, in fact, charcoal black both inside and out. The walls inside were stacked high with records, instruments of all kinds were scattered through the store, phonographs haphazardly placed on shelves, stacks, wherever they would fit. Johnny was pretty sure his grandpa must be some kind of secret wizard; he'd never seen any of the record players fall over, even when their precarious perches should have sent them smashing to the floor.

Jericho pushed the front door open gently, the little bell just above tinkling merrily.

"So, the boys are back in town." Johnny's grandfather, the aforementioned Mr. Mackenzie, glanced up. "Let me guess, you're here to see John? And- don't stop me now- you want him to come with you on some ill advised mis-adventure?" His glasses slipped down his nose, mouth a straight line, like a gash in his face.

Still standing in the doorway, two-thirds of the Spooktroop were unsure of what to say. Neither of them had spent enough time around Mr. Mackenzie to know whether or not he was being totally serious.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, come on in. John's nearly done, he's just moving one more crate of records on to the shelf. I can't do it anymore, my wrists, you know. Too much rock 'n rolling for me, I'm afraid." He laughed, mouth transforming into a lively, open smile, and walked over to the open doorway near the back. "John! Johnny! Your friends are here!"

Gabe mouthed 'John' at Jericho, and they both held back giggles, faces screwing up.

There was a clatter and a quiet stream of curses from the back room. One hand on the back of his head, Johnny appeared in the doorway, an unlit smoke between his lips. "Dun call me that, Gramps, please."

"What? John? John is a damn fine name, thank you. It's my middle name, after your great great grandfather, John Abrams 'Blackheart' Mackenzie, and-"

"And he was the greatest dude who ever lived, totally bangin' and what not. Rocked the brains out of everyone he ever met. I know, gramps." The smoke was now tucked behind Johnny's ear, his hands flailing through the air to emphasize his words.

"Don't you sass me, boy." 

The was a quiet moment, and then they smiled at each other. "Have fun with your friends, John- Johnny."

"See you around, Gramps. Want me to come by on Thursday?" 

"I would appreciate it, yeah."

"See you then."

As Johnny walked out from behind the counter, Mr. Mackenzie turned towards the main store room and said, "Bye kids. Make sure you get him back in one piece, alright?"

"We'll try." Gabe replied with smile, Jericho simply gave a little wave of his hand.

Outside, Johnny lit up his smoke, silver lighter carved up with a dragon, courtesy of Jericho. "So, we off to your place or what?"

"Yeah, offf course."

"Well, I thought maybe the park or some shit-"

"Nah man, it's not dark enough to go hang out there. People are still in it right now, you know."

"Ah bugger, right. Your place it is then."

END OF ACT 1, PART 2.

[lesssaga]

---

This was a part of a bigger plan, but unfortunately I hit an artblock, I'll maybe make a part 2 when I get over it.

Edit: Probably not, its been too long and the plot is irrelevant now

this was the first time I drew these guys, I certainly hope I didn't make too big of mistakes. I just reALLY fEel for aggressive violent Spook lately. But I can't write fics, so why not try to draw :')  

[faggylittlenuisance]

Immanis Automata: A Steampunk 1SpookStar Fan Fiction.

Introducing ACT 1, PART 1 of Immanis Automata, a steampunk fan fiction starring Jericho, Gabriel, and Johnny, three young men rejecting the world of their forefathers with gunpowder and words of insurgency.

Rating: T, though later chapters will be M.

(Jericho, Gabriel, and Johhny respectively belong to nekrosraptor, owlapin, and birdarangs.)

ACT 1, PART 1: Of Airships and Ideals

In the city of Ludenwic, there lived a family of brilliant inventors. The line became famous when a long dead ancestor, Christoper Chavez, a military scientist, invented the first airship capable of not only safe and effective transport, but also combat. 

The current heir was less than impressed with his ancestor. To be fair, the current heir was less than impressed with the entirety of the human race. Jericho glanced up at the stars with his one good eye, the silhouette of one of his forefather's monstrosities lurking in the distance. Smoke curled up from his lips and from between his fingers, the night air and hot ash burning through his lungs. His limbs were still screeching from earlier when he, Gabe, and Johnny had decided it would be a great idea to fuck up a DMO droid.

Defense Mechanism Officer droids patrolled each street individually, night and day, the eyes and ears of the Theocratic Directorate. Jericho had walked up behind one with a thick wooden bat and smashed it's head off in a single swing. The metal screeched and wrenched, gears sailed through the air and plummeted down to the cold cement. The clattering tinkle of wood on metal reverberated in Jericho's ears, a satisfying song of carnage. The head rolled a good five feet, skidding to a halt in front of a lamp post, the light behind the droid's eyes flickering weakly. It gave it a sick, haunting gaze; one could even describe it as doleful. It's body crumpled, glass and metal splintering onto the sidewalk, frail little whirs and splutters desperately trying to maintain function as liquids oozed out, shining in the anemic lights of the street.

They had exactly one minute before the droid patrolling the block over would head over this way and alert the others in the vicinity to their little disruption of the peace. Gabe broke it's legs, reaching right in with his calloused hands to pull out springs and bolts, the jingling and screeching a melody for the grin contorting his face in the low light of the gas lamps. Standing farther down the paved walkway, Johnny whistled, one short, sharp note. That meant run.

Laughing like maniacs, they bolted from the veritable mechanical army assembling behind them. Slipping through alley ways, winding trails, and slums, they evaded the howls of sirens and watchful eyes. They were the Kings of the Night, blending in with the lower-class wretches and the drunks and the shadows, nothing stood in their way once the sky turned inky black.

They had ended their evasion in the belly of the park, where the three still sat, watching what little stars they could see, and the shrouds of the swollen air ships.

"Have you ever wondered what the sky used to look like? Before your great-great-great-great grandfather fucked it all up?"

"Man, shut the ffuck up." Jericho lightly punched the leather clad arm of the boy flopped in the grass next to him, who cackled much like a hyena would.

 " ... y'know, it was probably ffucking beautiful." 

Gabe shifted his shoulders, leaning back in the grass on the other side of Jericho. "Yeah, I bet it was."

"I'm tired of the Zeppelins. I wish we could shoot them out of the sky." Johnny sighed, fingers threading through the grass, slowly clasping Jericho's hand. He squeezed slightly before pulling away, the only trace left behind was a smile on scarred lips.

"Why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why not just shoot them out of the ffucking sky, Johnny? Why the ffuck not? Why not burn everything to the ground?" He had a habit of waxing destructive late at night, whether they were in the park or sharing a room and trading words. Occasionally  there were no words, and his habit would cease to be, if only for an evening. Just silence and sometimes, just sometimes, with the whole world crashing down around them in it's conformity, there were fingers twined with other fingers with other fingers. Children holding hands in the dark.

But tonight, tonight they were not children. Tonight they were kings, and Jericho wanted to speak of war.

"Look around you." He sprawled out in the grass between the two bodies already resting on the greenery, his hands springing up into the air as he talked animatedly. "Look at the world around us. It's bullshit. We havve divvision of the classes, and the ffucking govvernment robs the poor and helps the rich step on evvery one else, so that divvision gets bigger daily. My own ffamily is great example, unfortunately. We'vve got airships choking our sky and automatons patrolling our streets. And people are getting stupider and ffucking stupider. The time where your rights are gone and you have to suck an aristocrat's dick to get anything done is now, guys. So ffuck it, we'll hold a candle to the devvil. Let's blow up the airships. Let's really start some shit."

Maybe it was the air. It was cold, chilled with the promise of autumn. Maybe it was way that Jericho's fists clenched and slashed at the space above them. Maybe it was the sense of restlessness and malcontent that had been growing in the other two boys lately, but tonight, they believed he really could shoot down the Zeppelins. They believed in the destruction and the promise of revolution. 

"How exactly are we going to do this?" Gabe rolled over onto his side, resting his cheek in one hand.

"We're gonna need an explosive of some sort, for starters."

"No shit, Johnny, really?" With derisive snort, Jericho sprung up, his arms splaying wide. "We can easily make something in the workshops at home. I'm a Chavvez, after all. And Gabe is friends with that twist, what's-her-name-"

"Femina."

"Yeah, Ffemina, from the Alchemist's Guild. She must be alright if you hang out with her. You think she'd hook us up with a little ffirepower?"

"Yeah, she would. She's definitely what you'd call alright."

"Whoa guys, I think, if we're gonna fuck up airships or whatever we should maybe, I dunno, wear masks or some shit? 'Cause I don't wanna get caught right away, that would blow." Johnny had sat up, blue eyes fixated on Jericho.

"Why don't we make up a 'gang' name while we're at it?" He replied sarcastically, then a sly smirk crept across his face. "Actually, what the hell, yeah. We'll wear masks, if you come up with a name. Right now. "

"... What about the Spooky Trio?" Loud, boisterous laughter echoed across the park as Johnny clutched his sides. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, that was just the first thing that came to mind."

"Ffor a musician, you're terrible at naming things."

"You're one to talk, didn't you name your thylacine Entre?"

"That was a joke. Mostly."

"What about the Spook Troop?" Gabe had shifted in the dark, and was now leaning against the nearest tree, the embers of a lit smoke the only illumination on his face.

"The Spook Troop? ... Ffuck yeah, hah."

"I thought I was the one who got to come up with the name. We still have to wear masks." A mocking pout adorned Johnny's lips, his arms crossing.

"Carefful with those pouting lips of yours, I may havve to come bite them off." Came the teasing response.

"I thought Gabe was the only cannibal here?"

The snickers of three teenagers danced through the park and off into the filthy streets of Ludenwic, though there was a melancholy note amongst them.

In the academy, Gabe had met a boy named Clyde. The young inheritor of a vast fortune, he was loud, rude, impulsive and annoying as fuck. He was also one of the best friends Gabe had ever made. They spent so much time together, someone called Gabe 'Bonnie' as joke, once. Just once. 

 A running vagary between the two had been that Gabe was a cannibal, as Clyde never saw him eat anything but meat. His nickname had been Drippylips. It blossomed into a rumour and everyone was convinced that Gabe was actually a consumer of human flesh, much to both their amusement.

 Grad Twelve rolled around, and throughout the year, they slowly started to drift apart. Clyde made new friends, chief among them, a thin, quiet kid by the name of Aaron. Gabe made new friends, chief among them, two brilliant, destructive idiots by the names of Jericho and Johnny. By the end of the year, they hardly recognized each other any more. 

Dropping his smoke and crushing it beneath his boots, yellow eyes sweeping over the park, Gabe said quietly, "Maybe we should head home. It'll be light soon. We can hang this afternoon though, if you guys are free." 

"I have to help my uncle then."

"With the record store?"

"Yeah."

"So Jericho and I can go talk to Femina, and then come pick you up after you're done?"

"Yeah, I'll call you." Johnny's fingers twitched over the device in his pocket. It was amazing really. Jericho had invented a small gadget capable of long distance communication, using magic frequencies and hidden receptors scattered all over Ludenwic. Only the three of them carried the apparatus. He hadn't decided on what to call it yet, but he was incredibly proud of his work.

The park went eerily quiet beyond the noises of airships and insects as the newly coined Spook Troop slithered away, through back yards and down empty alleys, the sky lightening gradually.

Once inside the house, Jericho didn't head to his room; he went straight for the workshop. He couldn't sleep, not now. He had bombs to build.

END OF ACT 1, PART 1.

[meadowsofasphodel]

I think I art better when I'm angry

[kudalyn]

maybe it's cause I've been listening to MCR for the past two days, but I've just been feeliNG SO

SPOOKSTAR

fhjdkshfd

I've been through my fair share of fandoms and otps and shit but dANG if Spookstar doesn't take the cake!

I mean, they're characters that while they perfectly conpliment each other, they have their moments where things aren't all peachy, and that's jUST SO FANTASTIC AND ENGAGING AND HEARTWRENCHING  and I mean

they're created and drawn by two people that I really look up to sO MUCH and think so fondly of ahah;;; 

and then 1spookstar is like icing on the cake cause One is the helping piece? Spook has his problems and Rocky has some but sometimes he just can't understand what Spook goes through? and while that's okay for him not to, One comes in and just GETS Spook and can complete the both of them AH

I have to admit I'm unsure of the extent of Rocky n One's relationship just because they don't interact on their own alot, without Spook? A lot of the time Spook is there for the two of them to play off of so yeah but 

idk maybe Rocky can give One some lessons on the guitar and we can see how these two work?? iDK I JUST

LOVE THESE DAMN ASKBLOGS SO MUCH ALL THEIR RPS AND ART AND THE FANFICTIONS HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE