#rocco writing

[starbamnk]

roses/smoke

—

“He-” The door swung open, and the Reddoons from last night was suddenly in front of Ash, regarding him strangely. He looked from Ash's face, to his black eye (he didn't even seem sorry), to the bouquet of roses in Ash's arms. Red's unusually calloused hands came up to pluck the blunt from his lips as he exhaled a puff of smoke–

He was smoking. Idly, Ash noted the irony of it.

“It's you.” He said simply, raising an eyebrow.

Ash took in a breath, tasting the smoke from Red's cigarette as it dissipated into the atmosphere. “My name is–”

“Ash.” Reddoons narrowed his eyes. “I remember.”

There was an awkward lull of silence. Ashswagg found himself hating how this wasn't coming as easily as it had. He hated how different this Reddoons seemed to be from his own. He hated that he still loved him. He hated the entire multiverse.

“What do you want?” Red finally snapped. “What's with the roses?”

Ashswagg was a god. He wasn't made to be quiet. Still, he whispered. “They're for you.”

“I told you, last night.” Reddoons reiterated, beginning to close the door in Ash's face. “I'm not a rose guy.”

—

[end of part five]

[starbamnk]

In the second chapter of the fic I'm writing, paint me like one of your french girls, John does a little warm-up sketch of Smitty. Here is that sketch!

Believe it or not, I'm also learning how to do realistic portraits, (which is one of the main reasons I started writing this fic,) and thought this would be a good excuse to practice lol

[starbamnk]

Hi :3!! I heard you have a biker au :0? !!!

- 🦇

DO I EVER HAVE A BIKER AU

well its the seeds of an idea for a biker au..... gonna yap abt it under the cut :3

warning: i yap for a while.

So this biker au follows the story of a gang of bikers, and the group of mechanics that work at the shop these bikers always go to when they get their shit rocked.

The biker gang (at the moment) consists of Ash, Spoke, Roshambo, Squiddo, and Planet. They do trail biking, and often compete in official and unofficial races that can often result in injuries and broken bikes. Haven't named the gang yet but Spoke probably named it so they probably call themselves somsthing stupid like La La Legio— *gets shot*

These guys have been friends since highschool and are currently all attending college when not racing or at their respective workplaces. Their collective goal with racing is mostly to have fun, but Spoke and Ash in particular have some sort of beef with another couple bikers who they race often: Minute, Clown, and Leo.

Those three, the PMC (Poopy Motor Cyclists, as Spoke has dubbed them), are well known in the trail racing community to bike with reckless abandon, but they somehow always end up winning their races. Ash and Spoke don't like them. The rest of their friends think it stems from jealousy.

The thing about racing these guys is that Ash and Spoke are, more often than not, coaxed into also biking with less care and more risk than they usually would. They, however, are not as lucky as the PMC and often find themselves either injured or in the shop begging Parrot for a discount on the most recent repairs that need to be done.

Now, these mechanics. They work at a locally owned bike repair shop, founded by Mapicc's grandfather. Mapicc very recently inherited ownership of the shop, and is kind of struggling to find his footing as the guy in charge. His employees (who he pays very well don't listen to them when they say otherwise) are mostly all his friends who were looking for jobs.

Reddoons, Branzy, Parrot, Mapicc, Cube, and Bacon all work there full time, and a couple of them (Mapicc and Cube) even bike themselves when they have the time.

Roshambo and Mapicc have known eachother since diapers, so he's always gotten discounts at the shop. The rest of his gang has been not-so-subtlety trying to befriend the rest of the mechanics at the shop to also get access to this discount.

And basically, this AU follows the story of these two groups of people. How their worlds overlap, how they stay separate, and what they can learn from each other. Might sprinkle a little power of friendship in there for safe measure.

Parrot and Spoke have a little enemies to friends arc,

Reddoons learns to let go and grieve something he loved,

Branzy falls in love with the WRONG FUCKING BIKER,

Ashswagg finds it in himself to be devoted to something a little healthier than a one-sides rivalry

Spoke learns he doesn't need to do crazy things and get crazy hurt to be cared about,

Mapicc becomes more comfortable in his authority and abilities, learning not to compare his accomplishments with those of others,

Ash and Red fill missing pieces for eachother, offering comfort balanced with excitement and the feeling of loving something other than bikes,

Minute and Leo spend a LOT of time trying to find out who keeps giving Minute anonymous notes claiming to be his biggest fan,

and other fun shenanigans!!!

This would be a massive project to write but i really do hope i get there someday. I do really have a soft spot for Hot biker + the fucking IDIOT that fixes his bike

thanks for asking about the au!!!!

[starbamnk]

hey do these guys like have a fandom or.

hi bear fists duo enjoyers... can anyone hear me... helllooo....

anyway wrote a fic called paint me like one of your french girls

!!!

[starbamnk]

( small doodle of one of the photos mentioned in chapter 7 of my chatfic, "it’s fun to be in other people's businesses (if you're there too)" )

—[A photo of Zam at the front door, carrying four boxes of pizza with one hand. He's laughing and flexing his free arm. Clown is right behind him on the front step, holding a box of breadsticks and rolling his eyes.]

[starbamnk]

Something Stupid - Frank Sinatra

(a little blurb to go along with the animation under more)

This world was colder than Ashswagg would've liked it.  He supposed it made sense, though, he should've seen the low temperature coming. This world was primarily covered in oceans, and he and his teammate had holed themselves up in a secret cave base deep under the water. The air felt wet, the stone walls and floors cold to the touch. It was bearable when Ash was wearing his armour, layered and less susceptible to the cold air touching his skin. When he took off his armour when he was trying to sleep, though, the hair on Ash's bare arms would stand on end, his skin prickling in the cold. Ash curled into himself, careful not to take too much of the blanket he was sharing with his business partner, Reddoons. They'd pushed their beds together in hopes they'd be able to keep eachother warm, but Ash had found Red too hot to touch. He found himself avoiding physical contact like the plague, which was hard when they'd been sleeping inches apart for the past couple of nights.  Ash could either be too hot or too cold. It was easier to be cold. In the mornings, Ash would wake up before Red, inching quietly out of bed to go manually mine some more trash. He needed to feel busy in this world. He was there to work, not to complain about the temperature or snuggle up with his business partner. Ash and Red didn't talk about their sleeping arrangements during the working day. It didn't fit the puzzle of who they were, here, now, in this lifetime. Their allegiance was strictly professional here, they were only working together to make money and raise charity for the very seas that kept Ash cold at night. It wasn't professional to sleep in the same bed. But it was necessary so they wouldn't freeze to death. The lack of warmth was killing Ash. Ash closed his eyes and hoped he'd stop thinking. He needed to ignore the cold, ignore how Red was right there, ignore what they were in other worlds so he could focus on what they're supposed to be in this one. Ash's eyes were shut, tight, in the way that took effort, in the way that wasn't relaxing, in the way that was more for ignoring what was in front of you than for sleeping. Red's warm breath on his face tickled Ash's eyelashes. Ash almost missed the whisper. It didn't sound real, it didn't sound tangible. Ash thought he might've imagined it, it didn't sound like it had come from right in front of him. It sounded far away, like a call from the end of a tunnel, a tunnel that led to another universe, different from Ash's own. Warmer than his own. I love you. Ash had to stop himself from choking. That's not how they were here. It ached, but that wasn't how things were.  The three, simple words hung in the air, and Ash's body flushed as he suddenly felt very warm. Too warm. It wasn't a sensation he'd felt yet in this world, it didn't belong here. His eyes flew open, ready to do.. something. Yell at Red? Make fun of him? Say nothing? Say it back? What was professional? What was allowed? Ash found he always felt this way when worlds were new. He was still trying to understand the rules, and how he fit in. His eyes finally focused after he'd opened them, which took longer than he would've liked. He realised he'd been closer to sleep than he had thought. Red's eyes were closed. He was asleep, carefully inches away from Ash. Close, but never touching, the ghost of Red's breath was the only thing caressing Ash's face. He hadn't said anything. Ash relaxed back into the mattress, only then realising he'd tensed up. It was nothing. Maybe it was a memory.

[starbamnk]

beginnings/ends

—

Ashswagg was a god. He could look anywhere.

The first universe Ash found him in after the eruption, he was a pirate. The feared capitain of a ship, on a mission for power. He kidnapped Ash when they first met, held him hostage under the impression that he was royalty and randsomed him for a price low enough that it was semi-offensive.

Ashswagg didn't belong to his world, though, and soon after Reddoons discovered that, he begrudgingly dropped the ransom and invited him to his crew.

They fell in love. They always did, if they had the time.

But soon enough, Ashswagg was unhappily reminded of soot, pouring from the sky, as cannon balls from another ship left trails of spark and smoke before hitting the hull.

And Ash lost him again.

But he'd always find him again, too.

He was a guitarist, then a superhero. A lawyer, then a siren. An artist. A bartender.

And Ash would always find him, and they'd fall in love, they were supposed to fall in love. But then, with every iteration of Reddoons, he'd get unlucky.

He was hit by a car, killed by a villian. Assassinated, poached. He'd work too much. Smoke too much.

Ashswagg ignored how he was going in circles. He ignored how it was endless, pointless, circular. He always restarted, although it always ended the same way. Ash pretended as if he didnt know these things, as if he didn't know it was futile. Ashswagg was a god. He didn't just not know things. But this whole ordeal, meeting Reddoons, waking back up and seeing the world again. It turned Ashswagg into something he wasn't supposed to be. Ash slipped into it. He didn't have enough care to mind.

Smoke was elusive. It was hard to breathe in, but easily snuffed out. It came, and it went, and it couldn't be held. Ashswagg learned to be held.

Ashswagg was a god—... Ashswagg was a god.

He wasn't the God of Smoke anymore. He was just Ash, finding his way.

And even if they were doomed, Ash found solace in the fleeting moments he would have with Reddoons. He made it all worth it, at the end of it all, or the beginning of another.

When Ash slipped through the cracks of reality, in his limbo, it wasn't endless fog anymore.

Ash was in a field of roses.

And for the rest of time, Ashswagg would wander, picking roses until they wilted in his embrace, or until their thorns pricked his newly-solid hands, his flesh and blood, and he'd be forced to drop the delicate flower, leaving it to rot.

Ashswagg was no longer a god. He would never learn not to pick the flowers.

—

[end]

[starbamnk]

"oh, I'd do so many things for you..."

—

“Ashswagg. Ancient God of Smoke.” The mortal bowed his head as he spoke the forgotten God's name. Ash blinked his many, tired eyes, awake for the first time in centuries.

It was a roman. A roman who had done his research. How had he gotten into Ash's temple? His walls, his body, had long since been overgrown, the native bushes of roses curling around his pillars like a lover hanging off their partner’s arm.

Ash refocused on the roman who was watching him carefully.

“You've woken me.” He said plainly, shifting his form to something similar to the mortals. More smoke pooled onto the floor as he did, tickling their feet.

“I am in your service.” The roman said, extending a rose he'd been holding out to the God.

Ashswagg laughed, he could tell it hurt the roman's head. “What do you think you can do for me?”

“Anything.” The roman (Ash supposed he was his roman now) blinked hard, taking a courageous step forward, urging Ash to take his rose. “I’d do so many things for you.”

“You're a roman.” Ash observed. “You have your own gods.”

“My name is Reddoons,” He said, “Only the gods I believe in can dictate my fate.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “That's silly. Your fate is not something I care to dictate.”

“So be it. I guess I'm on my own, then.” Reddoons shrugged, then nodded to the flower in his hand. “A rose?”

Slowly, Ashswagg stepped forward and took the rose. It's thorn pierced his skin, but he didn’t feel it. He was a god. “Thank you.”

Reddoons grinned. Ash inspected the flower. What an interesting man.

—

[end of part one]