#goop family au

[villageoflight]

Leon's tramp stamp is canon in the GoopVerse, it's just not fully visible nowadays

[leapdayowo]

Goop!Wally au

Retrogression part 10.5/10

A little bit extra :33

Part 1 | Previous page

[fauvester]

If it’s not too much to ask…could we get a garashir grand babbe roll call

GARASHIR GRAND BABBEES!

NO GENETIC RELATION TO EITHER OF THEM. BUT THEY'RE GARAK-BASHIRS IN THEIR HEARTS!

Lim and his wife have like.. 5 or 6 kids...... on purpose........ there are many family running jokes about it with varying levels of crudeness. They just want a big family... If everyone was like them the planet would regain its prewar population in a few scant generations. Besides, Lim is a stay-at-home dad and house manager, so there's someone to wrangle them all full-time.

Jocasta eventually gets married at the spinsterish age of 30 and has a reasonable amount of children. There's such a dearth of young Cardassian men after the war that nobody thought it was too unusual that she took that long, but still, societal expectations and whatnot. Garak is heartbroken when she moves out (last one to leave the nest.) He visits a lot especially after he retires.

Idk if Idan has kids! Probably eventually. He's a student though, he's got too much to do right now.

But he is a favorite uncle!

Also idk if Iskra and Rulada have kids haha I don't know if they're the 2.5 WPF type... but very funny to imagine their Klingon/Cardassian hybrid. WHAT kind of chaotic mommy energy is Iskra going to bring to this endeavor

[sergeantsporks]

So, I have a question. Actually, it's more like several questions…

We know that Belos was in The Human Realm with Jason and the Hexsquad. We also know that Phoenix has been "infected" with Belos' curse goop. So does that mean… effectively, Belos is in two places at once?

Are the separated pieces of him communicating somehow? Or was his consciousnesses in The Human Realm with the kids, with the part of him that's infecting Phoenix only something he's vaguely aware of?

I promise all of this will be answered and explained in the next couple of chapters, but short, no spoilers answer: it’s complicated.

[justcrafting]

I love your goop family au so much! Do you have some cute headcannons about it you haven’t been able to share yet? I’d love to hear them. If not, that’s totally fine too.

hmmmmmmm stuff I haven't shared yet... let's see:

Already mentioned, but everyone's got a "Rose-Assigned-Moniker" - Ethan's is Da/Dada (changes to Papa when Heisenberg enters the scene), Leon's is La, Chris is Baba, Wesker is Ba/Wa (depending), and Heisenberg eventually becomes Da/Dada (and she switches to Papa for Ethan)

When she gets older though, the only thing that really sticks is calling Ethan Papa. Everyone else gets the "Dad" treatment (occasionally the other nicknames come back to help differentiate) and even just their names (none mind though)

Everyone except Chris can purr. Ethan's is kinda rough sounding, Wesker's is deep and rumbly, and Leon's mixed with a chittering sound

Wesker stops using so much hair product and his hair sort of grows out and everyone cannot stop running their hands through it because it's soft. At first he just allowed Chris to do it (and only rarely) but as he got more comfortable he just lets the others do it too (not Heisenberg though)

Chris is the biggest pushover in existence when it comes to his family. He denies them almost nothing and spoils the hell out of all of them. Rose gets whatever toy she wants. Ethan, Wesker, and Leon can offhandedly mention something and the next day Chris comes home with it. He's also the most physical; he never denies cuddles and is always touching one of his partners in some way (unless they don't want to be, in which he gives them whatever space they need for however long they need it)

Though there are separate rooms in their house (one being Rose's nursery and the other being the "guest bedroom" that also serves as a second bedroom for anyone that feels like sleeping alone or for the group to split off into pairs for whatever reason) everyone just piles onto the massive master bedroom bed. Chris is in the middle, Wesker's usually off to his left, Ethan and Leon curled up together on his right. When Heisenberg comes in he's also on the right side, putting Ethan between himself and Leon

Wesker always monitors Leon's cooking and between him and Ethan they help the man finally learn how to properly cook

Sherry and Jake are the best older siblings to Rose. They absolutely adore her and she them. Jake lets her win at whatever game they play and she and Sherry love to do each other's hair

Jake and Wesker do wind up on better terms as time goes on, but Jake still doesn't consider Wesker his father. Leon though, Leon becomes his dad. He does not hear the end of it from him (or Sherry. Or anyone) when he accidentally slips and calls him Dad

Favorite family activity is sitting outside in the sun together. Like a bunch of cats sunbathing

Heisenberg crafts toys for Rose all the time. He also ends up making Ethan prosthetic fingers, and Wesker an arm (should he ever need it)

Mia and Ethan are still very good friends. They've both healed significantly since RE8 and have finally come to an understanding of their separate traumas from Dulvey and Romania

Can't really think of anything else off the top of my head rn but that's what I got!

[bet-on-me-13]

Symbiote Ellie Phantom AU

After she was saved from Destabilization, Ellie gained a nifty new power. She can Melt on command and move around freely, which is just a really fun power, even if she is a bit weaker when she uses it .

But one day, she gets really badly hurt. Like, Really Hurt. Let's say the GIW got a lucky shot and managed to capture her, and experimented on her for a week before she managed to escape.

She can't keep her Human Form stable anymore, but her Goop Form is good enough for now. All she needs to do is find an Ectoplasm Rich Environment and try to heal up the best she can. Hopefully Danny will find her after she misses her monthly Visit.

She ends up in Gotham while searching for a place to heal, but the GIW is hot on her tail.

She needs a place to hide, and the only way she can think of is to overshadow somebody and pretend to be them while the GIW passes her by.

So she jumps into the nearest person she can find, a girl close to her age jumping across Rooftops.

But since she was in her weaker Goop Form, she can't enter a person without their permission. So she slides up to the person in Goop Form, jumps on her Back, and telepathically asks her for help, begging for permission to hide in her for a bit.

The girl she tried to overshadow was Cassandra Cain.

After some begging, Cass agrees and Ellie sinks into her. Again, she can't fully Overshadow her, so she's basically a passenger until Cass decides to give her some control.

The GIW passes by them, and Ellie tries to leave Cass only to realize that she can't. Since Cass was exposed to the Lazarus Pits, she is has a weird Biology, and since Ellie already had a Wierd Biology being a Halfa Clone as a Pile of Goop, they somehow can't leave eachother.

Cass gets a new Roommate, but instead of sharing an apartment, its her body. It's honestly not that bad, Ellie can give her some of her old powers and she can still communicate by making a Goop Head come out of Cass's shoulder.

They get along really well too, Ellie can ways be there for Cass whenever she needs somebody to talk to, and Cass is the Supportive Older Sister who helps Ellie talk about her feelings.

The Bat Fam also doesn't know. They figure that this will probably be fixed soon enough, so there's no real reason to tell her Family. They do find out after a few weeks however.

Cass accidently uses Ellie's powers in front of one of her brothers, which causes them to tell Bat's which means the entire family knows by the end of the day.

Cass has to explain the situation and introduces her new little sister. "This is Ellie. She's a Meta who escapes a secret Government Organization and asked for my help to hide from them by hiding in my Body. Unfortunately, we can't split up because her powers reacted strangely to the Lazarus in my blood. She is now my sister. You are not going to make her leave, I will not let you."

It takes a while, but the Bat Fam ends up accepting her. They do end up looking into that "Secret Government Organization" though, and find that they have been experiencing Raids by an army of Ghosts for the last few weeks.

"Oh right, I missed my monthly visit to my brother." Says Ellie from Cass's shoulder. "He must be looking for me, no biggie."

It's definitely a Biggie.

[orbital-inclination]

🦈 the boys are scheming

Ramble under cut!

Killer: based on the Black-tipped Reef Shark and a Thrasher Shark. His tail is long and whip like but you can’t appreciate it’s length bc it’s out of frame. He uses it to give his prey a concussion.

Horror: is a whale shark because he is a big softie, a gentle giant. I can only have so many octopi, and next to a shark of some kind that’s my second choice for him.

Dust: manta ray. My logic behind this choice works like this; hoodie = soft + covers you = blanket. Blanket + fish = stingray. Manta Rays don’t have stingers. But I gave Dust one anyway.

Dream/Molt: I was torn between a classic fish tail for him or something with tentacles. So I drew three forms for him. his designs are loosely inspired by cuttlefish and a specific killifish I’ve lost the name of.

Because Molt’s goop is tied to his role as a Guardian of Positivity of the multiverse, I was torn about whether not his mer-form should be goopy. I’m still indecisive about this.

If we went with his cuttlefish form, just like real cuttlefish he would be able change the color and texture of his body and tentacles. He can’t change the color of his bones or magic, of course.

This also one of the few AUs that you get to see the damage done to his ribcage. If only bc he doesn’t have three layers of fabric to hide it.

Regardless of the kind of mer-skele, Molt steers clear of deep open water. The scars across his ribs are a literal beacon in the dark, as his magic glows, and are just as likely to attract a predator as they are to attract curious small fish. As dusk falls, Molt hides himself away in caves and crevices in the reef or cliffs. He is a day time hunter by choice, but his brother still prefers to hunt at night.

Nightmare/Rem: i had two ideas for Rem, Octopus or Orca. Orca, because of the general importance that family plays in their social dynamic. And Octopus for classic fandom interpretation reasons.

If we are using the octopus type mer for Rem; like his brother, he can change the pattern and color of his body but not his bones or magic. Though he can change his color to almost any hue he wants, he prefers dark colors.

The dark markings on his bones may or may not be natural, and may or may not be caused by the same incident that nearly shattered his brother’s bones. :)

[cupcakeslushie]

The empyrean that Leo was subjected to, does that make him a little unhinged like Donnie? Or due to his limited exposure, and I’m guessing his training he’s able to handle it?

You’ve might explained this before in your comments but I can’t find anything 🙈

So I think it’s a common assumption in my AU that Empyrean is the cause of Donnie’s mental issues…but Donnie’s poor mental health is due to all the torture and trauma that Draxum put him through, and the Empyrean only heightens it by making his visions more realistic, and his emotions more erratic.

In the EW verse, Empyrean enhances emotions that are already there. This is why Draxum becomes obsessive with figuring out his mutation formula and training Three. Over the years, without the Empyrean, he would’ve been able to focus on more important things, like raising Three properly, and was even heading in that direction, but then they started collecting it. Stern parenting and simple tests became horrible abuse and dangerous experimentation.

For Leo, Kitsune was incorporating her own magic with his exposure. So the Empyrean made her spells to control him stronger. What helps snap Leo out of this control is seeing his brothers for the first time, and more importantly, what happens to him during his three week coma (which should be explained in the next update or so). His coma will act as almost a system reboot for his mind. This will cause the unusual turn around in his behavior, that we’ve heard Cass talk about. When Leo sees his brothers, it throws him off his game, and causes him to make mistakes, but after waking from his coma, Leo really begins to act like a totally different person to the one the Shredder has meticulously crafted.

But judging by that big pit of green goop, Leo’s not going back to his family without one last Empyrean exposure. And he’s pretty angry right now. Hope that won’t affect his relationships with his brothers and father 😬.

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 4 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, OMC Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes), alcohol as a coping mechanism, season 1 Lydia behavior (her comments on addiction are wrong and insensitive and she's knows it) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: Your life somehow becomes further entangled with Stiles and Scott's strange secret world, and Lydia is concerned in her own aggressive way. 

A/N: this is in fact a scott mccall stan account. i love that boy like he's my own. you can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

The drive home was ultimately uneventful. No need for tasers, silver bullets, or wolfsbane goop. You would need to get gas before you left for school in the morning, but you supposed that was a relatively minor inconvenience when the other end of the scale was being torn apart by a fanged monster. 

Your jaw cracked with an aggressive yawn as you slowly stumbled through the garage door, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. You flicked on the light and paused, shivering a little as the cold air from the vent above your head skimmed over your bare arms. After a moment of hesitation, when that little persistent wriggling in your ear wouldn’t go away, you ducked back down the concrete steps to poke around the garbage can. Underneath a few Styrofoam take-out boxes, there were four empty beer bottles. The glass bottles clinked against each other as you nudged them out of the way, unearthing the real object of your paranoia. A drained bottle of 100-proof rye whiskey was cradled between two sacks of trash from the night before. You just stared at the bottles, heart and lungs wound tight, and then you dropped the lid back on top of the can.  

When you reentered the house, you were careful to keep the noise to a minimum. It wasn’t that late, only a little past nine, but you didn’t want to disrupt your dad’s slumber. Usually, he was a night owl—which, of course, was really just a pretty way of saying chronic insomniac, another thing you’d inherited from him—but it’d been a hard liquor night. Your dad always went to bed early on hard liquor nights. You didn’t know if he actually slept or if he stared at the ceiling, watching memories play on spackle until dawn streamed through the cracks in the blinds. Probably the first. You hadn’t ever heard him cry through the thin walls, not even once. You, however, couldn’t ever stop crying, not on the nights you trembled for something potent enough to mask the scent of the coconut oil your mom used to remove her makeup. The echoes of your mother had seeped into the walls, saturated the insulation with the faint sounds of the 70s pop rock vinyls she put on when she was in a good mood. They faded sometimes, but they always came back. You desperately hoped, and you hopelessly feared, that they always would. 

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hands aggressively and slipped under the covers, still in your plaid skirt and black t-shirt. Mascara smeared against your silk pillowcase, blurred your vision as it melted into your waterline. You stared at the wall until the silver swirls in the teal wallpaper started to sway. The teal was so dark it almost looked velvet with the lights off, and you had a heavy-eyed impulse to stroke it, but your hand was too leadened to lift. 

Your lids slipped shut, and in the haze between consciousness and slumber you felt the vague sensation of something solid against the back of your head. You murmured something incomprehensible and pulled your arms closer to your chest, taking in a breath of sharp whisky and a familiar woody cologne. You kept your eyes closed, and the warm weight cupped your skull for a moment. There was a brief kiss pressed against the top of your head and then the warmth was gone. Something large caught in your throat, and you squeezed your eyelids until your forehead wrinkled, forcing yourself to fall into a restless sleep filled with dreams of pancakes swimming in bourbon and howling beasts. 

Stiles was waiting for you by your locker when you arrived at school the next day. His friend—Scott, you reminded herself—was leaning against the locker next to him. Scott’s eyelids were heavy, and there was a coolness underneath them that stained his tan skin with a swathe of puce. Puce: From the French term ‘couleur puce,’ meaning ‘flea color.’  You dug your incisor into your tongue once you recognized that the intrusive internal narration was in Stiles’s voice. You didn’t even know if he spoke French, but it seemed like the kind of weird detail he’d know. You ran your tongue over your teeth and shoved your fists into your jacket pockets, thumb poking through the hole in the lining from previous twiddling—when the hell did you start thinking about the kinds of things Stiles would and wouldn’t know?  

You pivoted sharply, and your traitorous leather boots ruined your attempted exit when they squeaked against the freshly waxed floor. Stiles’s head popped up from his hushed conversation with Scott, and he waved vigorously when he made eye contact with you, “Hey! C’mere!”

You tipped your gaze towards the tiled ceiling and sighed. It was inevitable, really; you had to get your English binder before homeroom—homeroom, yet another reason to hate Wednesdays. It was one of your few classes with Lydia, and there wasn’t ever any actual teaching to distract you from the disgusting goo-goo eyes she gave her boyfriend. Studying was your only respite.

“Patience,” you nudged Stiles out of the way and spun your combination into the padlock, “work on it. It’s an essential skill.”

Stiles scoffed and leaned his shoulder against the locker next to yours, arms folded over his chest, “Essential. There’s nothing essential about wasting time. It’s actually unvirtuous if you think about it.” 

You swung her locker door open, blocking out Stiles’s frown, and rested your backpack on your knee so that you could unzip it. “Was there a point in there somewhere, or are you stalking me again?”

Stiles ducked around the locker door and placed his hands on Scott’s shoulders, shoving him a little closer to you, “Scott had a question for you.”

Scott’s eyes didn’t look so tired when he reared his head back to stare at Stiles. They had an intense conversation for a moment. There weren’t any words exchanged, but you got the gist: Scott was pissed, and Stiles was relentless. In the end, Scott lost the battle and swallowed thickly, “So, uh, you know a lot about supernatural stuff. That’s cool.” Stiles rolled his eyes and smacked the back of Scott’s head. Scott glared at him before mumbling, “Do you have any more of that wolfsbane…potion?” towards his muddy Converse. 

You directed your annoyance over Scott’s shoulder, more than confident that the real culprit of this request was the idiot avoiding your eye-line. “What? You already burned through your goo sample? Are the streets finally free from the demon beast of Beacon Hills?”

Stiles held up his hands and shook his head, “This is all Scott. See, me, I’m a fan of not being a greedy little bastard, but Scott—” This time Scott smacked Stiles with a resounding thwack. Stiles rubbed his shoulder, mouth agawk with indignation. 

“He…dropped it.” Scott glowered at the side of Stiles’s face, “‘Doing something stupid.” 

You smirked, “Sounds about right.” You shoved your binder into your backpack and brushed your hairs out of your eyes, “I’d give it all away for free, but it’s not up to me. Sorry.” Zipping your backpack shut, you slung one of the straps over your shoulder and shrugged, “You could always buy some more, but I’d strongly advise against such a dumb financial investment.”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck and gave you a smile. It was small but riddled with warmth—like he just couldn’t help it, like sunshine leaked through every one of his pores, and you were filled with the sudden urge to buy the stupid wolfsbane gunk for him. “That’s what I figured,” Scott looked at Stiles pointedly. His voice dropped a few octaves and a growl slipped into the end of his sentence, “But someone thought we should ask anyway.” 

The bell rang, and Scott flinched, smashing one of his ears into his shoulder. He turned around, a little dazed, and Stiles trailed after him after giving her a distracted wave. As you watched them leave, a parasitic impulse wrangled through your throat, prying the hinge of your jaw open as you shouted, “Hey!” The hallway was abuzz with various conversations and clomping feet, but your voice was still a bit too loud for the short distance between you and definitely too urgent for 7:45 in the morning. 

Stiles turned around first, almost tripping over his sneakers, and then he yanked on the scarlet hood of Scott’s jacket until he stopped too. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and licked your bottom lip, suddenly realizing how dry it was. “I, uh,” you sighed and took a few steps forward so that you didn’t have to raise your voice, “I could talk to Maggie. I bet she’d cut you a deal if I asked.” You let out a little laugh and raked your fingers through your hair, accidentally dislodging the satin bow tying your hair out of your face. “I know, actually. I know she’d give you some for free. She’s a terrible business woman.” 

Scott’s smile put the moon to shame, and Stiles looked like he’d been waiting for you to change your mind since the moment you told them no—when the hell did he start thinking about what you would and wouldn’t do? 

“That would be awesome,” Scott ducked down to grab your black ribbon and held it out to you with an open palm, “thank you. I’d owe you big time.”

Stiles looped his arm around Scott’s shoulders and smirked, “We’d. We’d owe you. I’ll stop by the store and bless you with my scintillating conversation sometime.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled softly at Scott, taking your ribbon from his hand. You attempted to tie your hair back in a neat bow, but it was difficult without a mirror. You assumed it was halfway decent because Stiles didn’t take the opportunity to tease you—you, on the other hand, had no such qualms about mocking him. You smiled at Stiles, far too sweetly to be considered congenial, and sneered, “Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” 

Stiles’s eyes narrowed, face curved around a smirk that screamed trouble, and Scott slapped his hand over Stiles’s mouth before he could say something to make you reconsider, “Thanks again. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to pay you back. Name it, and we’re there.” Stiles winked at you with a glint in his eye that was as vexing as it was bright, and Scott rolled his eyes as he hauled him away by the nylon material of his backpack, “C’mon, dude. My mom’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

You watched Stiles’s buzzed head bob amidst the congested crowd of students, all shoving each other in their rush to get to class on time, until you couldn’t hear his surly complaints anymore. You rubbed your hand over your chapped lips, swallowing hollowly, like you could erase every impulsive word that’d spilt from your stupid mouth.

You were still thinking about what you’d gotten yourself into when you walked into Mrs. Farias’s classroom—and that must be why you forgot your copy of Metamorphosis in your locker. You groaned internally and dropped your forehead against your desk, bumping it against the cool laminate finish a few times, before ducking out the door with a hall pass. 

The halls were empty—silent too. You could hear your own footsteps and the tick of the large clock above the main office as you walked around the corner, and then, just as you approached the hallway your locker was in, you heard something else. Voices. Angry voices. One familiar—your face scrunched as the recognition wriggled through your ears to your brain—and one not. You cautiously glanced around the corner and frowned. Jackson, Lydia’s arrogant prick of a boyfriend, was talking to a hulking, leather-clad stranger—or rather infuriating him based on the murderous look in the man’s dark eyes. 

The stranger looked a good five years too old to be in a high school hallway, but the grown-out stubble and over-defined muscles weren’t of immediate concern. You were more focused on the color of his face. His skin was pale, clammy, and quite honestly a little corpse-like thanks to the purply-blue tinge carving out the hollows of his face. You assumed that he was too strung-out to care if anyone noticed their altercation because you could hear him from halfway across the hall. 

“Where’s Scott McCall?” His voice was deep and gravelly, as expected, but there was a desperate undertone you hadn’t anticipated.

You could only see the back of Jackson’s head, but you knew exactly what his face was doing when he puffed out his chest and folded his arms—no one else could make a smirk look quite so punchable. It was a gift, truly. “And why should I tell you?” “Because I asked you politely,” the man leaned forward, bared his canines, and you couldn’t believe that Jackson didn’t even flinch, “and I only do that once.”

“Okay, tough guy,” Jackson sneered, meeting the man’s challenge with another step forward and a shrug that reeked of false-superiority, “how ‘bout I help you find him if you tell me what you’re selling him. What is it? Dianabol? HGH?”

“Steroids,” the man’s voice was dry, and if he didn’t look like he was about to double over and puke all over the floor, you’d say the menacing glimmer in his eyes was a little amused. 

“No, Girl Scout cookies. What the hell do you think I’m talking about?” Jackson tutted, maddeningly haughty, and shook his head, “By the way, whatever it is you’re selling, I’d stop sampling the merchandise.” He let out a low patronizing whistle, and you kind of hoped that the stranger would suckerpunch him in the throat for it. “You look wrecked.”

The man didn’t punch him. Instead, he pushed himself off of the locker he was slumped against and started staggering stiffly down the hall, “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackson grabbed onto his broad shoulder and yanked. The veins in his bicep bulged with the strength of grasp, “We’re not done here.”

Your limbs suddenly remembered how to function. You ducked back behind the brick wall and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable sounds of bone colliding into flesh. Your right eye cracked open a sliver when the noise never came. Instead, there was a loud thud and the echo of clanging metal. You peeked around the corner again and froze, eyes wide and throat dry. Jackson was pinned against a locker by his neck. You’d already noticed that the stranger was tall, but you didn’t truly realize just how large he was until now. Jackson was a lot of things, but he wasn’t small. He was captain of the lacrosse team—everyone within a ten-mile radius knew that thanks to his constant reminders—and if anyone on campus was taking steroids, he would’ve been your first guess. But next to this sickly beast of a man, Jackson looked meek and mousey, and you didn’t even get to savor it. After a brief moment, no more than a second, Jackson’s assailant sniffed the air and slowly turned his head in your direction. It wasn’t an accident; he wasn’t surveying his surroundings. His eyes landed on yours, and he didn’t look the least bit surprised. 

The man’s irises were dark, nearly black, and they didn’t stray from your face. You forgot how to breathe, feeling distinctly like a rabbit trapped in a fox den as your heartbeat hammered against your ribs. He spared you after a few seconds of paralyzing eye-contact and turned his petrifying gaze back to Jackson’s neck. You recoiled, slipping back to your spot around the wall, and pressed your back against the bricks until the sound of your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears. 

When you found the courage to look down the hall again, the man was gone, and Jackson was bleeding from the back of his neck. There were four distinct punctures along his cervical spine, trickling crimson droplets onto the stark white collar of his polo. The gouges were small, almost like…nail marks. Baffling. This town was fuckin’ baffling.

You poured over the incident all day, barely conscious enough to take down notes and roll your eyes at Stiles’s badgering and bad jokes. You’d never been more ready for the final bell to ring, not even during sex education with the extraordinarily sweaty Mr. Peterson. 

You twisted your pendant around its onyx chain as you walked out of your last period, winding and unwinding the charm over and over again as you mulled over your thoughts. Scott didn’t seem like he was on drugs. You didn’t exactly know him, but he was the least aggressive person you’d ever met, and he had to be eternally patient if Stiles was his best friend. You spun the medallion again and shouldered your way through the cramped halls to the parking lot, scolding yourself. What Scott McCall did or did not inject into his bloodstream wasn’t any of your business…even if his alleged dealer looked like he was on death’s door and had a habit of throwing teenage boys around when he got mad. 

You’d just convinced yourself that you didn’t care what happened to Stiles’s best friend when a discord of honking stopped you in your tracks. You flitted your gaze around the parking lot, searching for the cause of obnoxiously loud cacophony; your shoulders wilted along with your resolve when you spotted the guilty party. The man from the hallway was sprawled on the asphalt, and Scott and Stiles were scrambling to help him off of the ground. 

Your feet reluctantly trudged towards the peculiar trio, arms tightly folded over your cropped sweater. You would’ve laughed at how wide Stiles’s eye stretched when he finally noticed your presence, but you were a little preoccupied with the fact that he was currently trying to stuff a ghoulish grown man into his front seat. You watched him struggle to hold up approximately 200 pounds of solid muscle with his spindly arms, absentmindedly lamenting that you couldn’t truly appreciate the humor of the situation. “Hey,” you slanted your head and searched Stiles’s face for any sign of an SOS signal, “you good?”

“Ayup,” Stiles nodded emphatically, and Scott shot you a weak thumbs-up from his squat next to his tipped-over bike. 

You looked between the two of them, waiting for the truth to crack through the awkward pretense, and narrowed your eyes, “You sure?” 

“We’re good,” the man barked from inside the jeep, teeth bared. It was a little less intimidating now that he was slumped over and at the mercy of a sixteen-year-old with a dork complex, but you still flinched. You couldn’t help it. It was a small twitch, but Scott still managed to track the minute movement from his low perch. He glared at the man, shockingly firm for such a sweet-faced boy, until the stranger stopped scowling at you. Mr. Sour Face turned his head towards the window and stared intensely at the hazy tree line over the hill. Your fingers relaxed. You hadn’t even realized that you’d dug your nails in your palms until the stinging stopped. 

Scott jumped to his feet and pulled his bike up by the handles, rushing through his weak explanation, “Stiles is just…doing me a favor. Derek needs a ride, and all I’ve got is my bike.”

Letting out a flimsy snort, your brow pinched, “So…he walked here?”

“Uh,” Scott squinted, and Stiles nodded behind him, “yeah?” 

You pursed your lips, ignoring all the students who’d started shouting over the beeping horns, and watched Derek grit his teeth and clench his fists through the dashboard window. You looked back at Stiles and chewed on your lip. Stiles was taller than you, but he was on the scrawnier side of lean and wouldn’t stand a chance against a man of Derek’s size—even if he was barely clinging to the rapidly fraying threads of consciousness. “I could use a ride to work,” you pulled the backseat door open before you could talk yourself out of it. 

Stiles lurched towards you and slammed the door shut, narrowly avoiding your fingers, “Normally, I would seize any opportunity to have you further indebted to me, but—that’s Lydia Martin.” His eyes bulged out of his head, and he leaned against his jeep, slipping down the blue frame as his legs went boneless, “Walking towards me. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

The prospect of riding in the same car with Mr. Resting Bitchface was being more appealing by the second. Lydia didn’t even look in Stiles’s direction. Her cutting green eyes were fixed on you and you alone. “Are you an idiot?” Lydia snatched your wrist, mauve manicure digging into the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, and yanked you back to the sidewalk.

“What?” you went brainless for a moment, taking in all the glory of an enraged Lydia Martin. 

Lydia’s cheeks were flushed pink from anger and adrenaline, “Or just suicidal?”

The shock had worn off. Now, you were thoroughly pissed, “What?”

Lydia’s eyebrows, perfectly tapered and freshly threaded, knitted together until she was in danger of developing a unibrow, “Do you have any idea who you were about to get in a car with?”

Your eyes flicked to the side, and it took gargantuan strength not to roll them too. “Stiles?”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Lydia’s riptide of fury gave way to confusion, but her soft features sharpened abruptly when she returned her attention to your scowl, “I meant Derek Hale. Obviously.”

Your hip cocked to the side as you crossed your arms, “And?”

“And he’s a murder suspect,” Lydia’s lips curled into a vehement sneer. It was so strange to finally see it first-hand. Lydia had such a sweet face, cherub cheeks and doe eyes—a clever smile. She hadn’t quite mastered disdain when you were friends; the ice queen routine wasn’t performance ready until you’d drifted apart. It was an awful face, you decided; it completely erased the last few pieces of the Lydia you knew.

“In an animal attack,” you muttered under your breath. 

Evidently, it had been a long time since someone dared to disagree with the Lydia Martin because she was struck speechless. It didn’t last for long, but it was still satisfying. “He’s dangerous,” Lydia hissed. “He went completely off the deep end after his family died. Seriously, his life is like a textbook precursor to violent behavior; he’s a profiler’s wet dream.”

“Because his family died,” you repeated. The numbness eroded some of the snark in your voice. 

Lydia either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the glaze creeping over your eyes. She continued, barbarous and unashamed, “Because he watched them turn into charcoal, and his sister was just ripped in half. At best, he’s unstable—but his little hobby of trolling for minors is a bit of a red flag, don’t you think?”

“Charcoal,” you spoke—more of an echo really with its resonating hollowness. Your eyes were on Lydia’s face, but your mind was somewhere far away. A lifetime ago, with the ashes of everything you once knew. 

Lydia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth gaped into a perfect little ‘o.’ Her dainty fingers twitched by her sides, and then she smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in her flouncy mini-skirt. “Most of his family died in a fire,” her voice was much softer this time, a bit of tenderness accidentally rooting through the cracks in her veneer. Lydia looked away and gripped the thin strap of her handbag, “Accidental house fire. It was all over the news like five years ago.”

You stared at Lydia, and for the first time in the last four years, you didn’t miss her. For the first time in such a mind-numbingly long time, your anger strangled your heartache with a wrought-iron grip that felt a whole lot like hate. It was always going to be like this, you realized. You would just have to walk around with all these what-ifs, if-onlys, and what-really-happeneds needling your heart with every thud—always. You had to learn to live with this: knowing that Lydia was never going to apologize and that there would be no closure. Ever. 

“Right.” You laughed, shark-like, with your canines on display. You hoped it would make all your constants sharper. “So he’s gotta be a lunatic now.”

“Y/N…” It was surreal to hear your name out of Lydia’s mouth after so long. You didn’t know if you liked it, and, currently, you didn’t even know if you cared. Lydia chewed off what was left of her nude lipstick and then squared her shoulders, “So we’re just going to pretend that he wasn’t completely strung-out and totally embracing the heroin-chic aesthetic?”

You slanted your head a bit and then let out another serrated laugh. There wasn’t any point in having it out, you decided, because Lydia didn’t care. She got to move on and erase your entire existence—live her perfect, popular girl life without all this suffocating quicksand binding her to the past. Must be nice, you thought venomously, souring your tongue, stinging your eyes. Showers were probably just showers for Lydia. She didn’t singe her skin until the water went cold, imagining what she’d do, what she’d say—how she’d hurt her back. Must be so fucking nice.

“Lydia, I really don’t think you really want to get into all the things we’re pretending,” your voice was tight, strangled at the ends. You would not cry. You could not cry. Lydia sensed weakness like blood in the water, and you refused to give her the satisfaction. 

“Fine,” Lydia’s curls spilled down her back like strawberry wine as she pivoted in her designer heels, “ride off into the sunset with a 'roid-raging creep. Don’t act surprised when you turn up dead in a crack den.” 

Truthfully, Lydia had a point, but at this moment being contrary seemed far more important than being right. “It’s kind of difficult to act like anything when you’re dead,” you called, eyes zeroed-in on the back of her head as she slid into Jackson’s Porsche with a sensual grace you would never possess. Lydia was too far away to hear your retort, but you felt a little less like punching something after you said it. 

You didn’t notice that Stiles and Scott were gone until the threat of bitter tears stopped burning your sinuses. The last thing you needed was to cry like this upset you, even if the only nearby witness left on the vacant sidewalk was yourself. You scoured the parking lot for even a flash of powder blue, but the jeep was nowhere to be seen. Probably long gone by now—your spat with Lydia must have taken longer than you thought. It was certainly louder than you meant it to be. Little clusters of ambling students were looking at you a little too long to be casual, and the indiscreet whispering once they turned back to their friends forced your legs forward. 

You didn’t know where you were going when you started your car, but far, far away sounded pretty damn good.

[skeletboi]

Part 11 of the Intridimensional AU!

New to this? Start here!

Previous /// Next

_________________________________________

Fiddleford opened the door to see Ford half-dragging Stan towards the house.

“Lemme help ya, Ford, those stairs are gonna be a doozy.” He said, making his way towards them.

“We got it. I feel like I would crush you if I fell over.” Stan responded before Ford could say anything.

“Hey now, I'm a lot stronger than I look.” Fiddleford said with a bright smile.

“It's true.” Ford added. “He's like an ant, I've seen him carry things ten times his size without even breaking a sweat.”

“Smart, strong, and a southern accent? Where did you find him? College? Maybe I should go to college.” Stan said, half to himself.

Ford let up his grip on Stan, nearly knocking him over.

“Right, right! No hitting on the assistant.” Stan mumbled as he attempted to catch his balance.

Fiddleford chuckled as helped them up the stairs.

“Ya never told me he was a charmer, Ford.” He said as they made it to the door.

“That's because he isn't.” Ford deadpanned.

Stan opened his mouth to respond, but forgot what he was going to say as they entered the house.

“Damn. This is exactly what I should have expected.” He said as the other two helped him sit on a nearby chair.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ford said, at the same time Fiddleford said “That's ‘zactly what I said when I came here!”

Ford and Fiddleford looked at eachother and Stan laughed.

“Anyways, lemme get a look at yer injuries. Ford told me he tried ta patch ya up, but I've seen his work, and I ain't impressed.” Fiddleford said, grabbing a nearby first aid kit and putting on a pair of rubber gloves.

“Hey!” Ford said, defensively.

“Ya know what I mean, Stanford. Go fetch me some of that magic goop yer always usin’.”

Ford frowned, but left to go find said ‘magic goop’.

“Damn, he never would of listened to me if I said that. He really does like you.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford ignored that, but Stan didn't miss the way his cheeks reddened.

“I'd really rather you'd go to a hospital, friend. This really ain't lookin’ good.” He said instead.

“Yeah, yeah. Hospital-schmospital. What are we going to tell them? We were just fucking around and I lost my leg and got a bullet in the arm?”

“Bullet in yer arm? I thought it was jus’ the leg.” Fiddleford said with a frown as he looked up at Stan.

“It was just the leg when Ford found me, but then we got shot at near the border of Arizona.” Stan explained.

“You-” Fiddleford started, then sighed. “Does catastrophe run in the family?”

“Yes.” Ford and Stan said at the same time as Ford reentered the room.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh.

“Well, least I know what to expect, then.”

“That makes one of us.” Ford mumbled handing a small unmarked container to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford put it to the side and started to unwrap the gauze on Stan's leg.

“Take yer jacket off, I gotta check on that bullet wound, too.” He said.

Stan did as he was told and watched with mild interest as Fiddleford finished removing the gauze.

“Darnit, Stanford. All them PhDs and not a single one of ‘em in medicine.” He mumbled as he opened the unmarked container.

“I had better things to do.” Ford responded.

“Doncha always.” Fiddleford mumbled, and Stan didn't miss the fondness in his tone.

Fiddleford took some of the substance from the container and made to put it on the wound when Stan stopped him.

“Wait, wait! What the hell is that shit?” He asked, put off by the substance's eerie glow.

“That's quite interesting, actually!” Ford said, his face lighting up. “It's a healing potion I received from a forest nymph after they found me passed out in the woods a few years ago!”

Stan frowned, but nodded to Fiddleford, letting him know he could apply it. Fiddleford did so, and Stan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“What the fuck, Ford?! That shit is amazing! Why didn’t you bring it to New Mexico?!” Stan said, looking from his leg to Ford.

“Oh, right. I wasn't sure if I should bring it on the plane, it emits a small amount of radiation that has the potential to mess with certain radio signals.” Ford explained.

Stan glared at him.

“It's perfectly safe! I've used it dozens of times!”

“That doesn't make it safe, Stanford!” Stan responded, nonplussed.

“That's what I'm always sayin’, but stubbornness also runs in the family, I reckon.” Fiddleford said.

“Fiddleford refuses to use it, but I find it quite helpful.” Ford said.

“Whatever.” Stan said with a sigh. “It's probably just as bad as any other substance I've used, so it doesn't really matter. At least it works.”

“That's the spirit! Now lemme get a look at yer arm.” Fiddleford said, moving to Stan's side to start unwrapping the gauze there.

“That one isn't too bad, probably doesn't need radioactive magic goop.” Stan said.

“Ain't too bad?! I reckon the bullet is still in yer arm, Stanley!” Fiddleford said, moving Stan's arm this way and that as he looked for an exit wound.

“Probably, but I doubt those assholes are smart enough to poison their bullets, so it's fine. I’ve had a bullet in my thigh for a few years now and I barely notice it anymore.” Stan said.

“Jesus fuck, Stanley.” Ford mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Language, Stanford.” Fiddleford responded.

“Language?! Stan hasn't said a single sentence without a swear word since we arrived!” Ford said, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

“He's missin’ a leg, Stanford. That’s a purdy good excuse.” Fiddleford replied.

Ford frowned, but didn't bother arguing.

“Lemme go grab the smaller magnet gun prototype, I betcha I can remove it that way.” Fiddleford said, standing up and removing his rubber gloves.

“That sounds fucking awful.” Stan replied.

“It's either the magnet gun or tweezer and a scalpel. Your choice.” Ford said.

“Right, nerd magic it is.” Stan sighed.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and left to grab the magnet gun.

“So he's cute.” Stan said when Fiddleford's footsteps faded.

“Fuck you.” Ford said, burying his face in his hands as Stan laughed.

“Ya know, married or not, I'm pretty damn sure he has a crush on you, too.” Stan said as his laughter died down.

“That doesn't matter, Stanley. I told you he would be moving back to Palo Alto soon enough.” Ford said, dropping his hands from his face with a sigh.

“All grown up and becoming a homewrecker, who coulda guessed.” Stan mused.

“I swear to god, Stanley…” Ford started, but stopped when he heard Fiddleford's footsteps down the hall.

Stan smiled innocently as Fiddleford rounded the corner.

“I was gone for one whole minute and y'all already fightin’?” Fiddleford asked.

“Not fighting, really, just disagreeing.” Ford said, sounding tired.

“Well, close ‘nough. Now looky here, I got the magnet gun, but I also brought my blueprints for a robit leg. I'll hafta take some measurements, but I think I was purdy darn close already.” Fiddleford said, setting the magnet gun down on a nearby shelf and handing the blueprints over to Stan.

Stan unfolded the paper and grinned.

“Peg leg! Hell yeah! How did you know?!” He asked, squinting at the design.

“Yer brother told me you'd prefer that over my usual designs.” Fiddleford said, putting on a new pair of gloves.

Stan glanced over at Ford, who was staring at the far wall and pretending not to listen. He shook his head and smiled as a warmth bloomed in his chest, but turned his attention back to Fiddleford when he heard a low hum.

“This is gonna hurt, but it'll only take ‘bout a second.” Fiddleford said, gently taking Stan's arm and holding up the magnet gun.

Stan nodded, setting down the blueprints and clenching his fist. He motioned for Fiddleford to continue.

Fiddleford looked a bit like he was about to pass out, but his hands were steady as he lined the magnet gun up with the bullet wound.

There was a click, a whirring sound, and a shot of white-hot pain, then it was over.

“That wasn't so bad.” Stan said, but the pain in his voice said otherwise.

“Sorry, Stanley. I jus’ gotta clean it up a bit then we can use more that magic goop.” Fiddleford said.

He sounded so genuinely apologetic that Stan was sure he could hear a layer of ice crack around his heart.

“No worries, Fidds! You can always kiss it to make it better!” He replied with a laugh.

“Stanley!” Ford said, his voice cracking.

Fiddleford just laughed it off and started the process of cleaning around the wound.

Stan used his free hand to pick up the blueprints again, looking over them carefully as Fiddleford worked. He glanced up at Ford when he felt eyes on him and motioned for Ford to join him when he saw the curious look on his face. Ford obliged and stepped behind Stan to look over his shoulder at the blueprints.

“Impressive as always, Fiddleford.” Ford said, and Stan didn't miss the way Fiddleford's hands stilled for a moment at the compliment.

“Thank ya, Ford. I'll prolly have a prototype by tomorra that we can try out.” Fiddleford replied with a nervous smile.

It took all of Stan’s willpower not to roll his eyes.

Running from gangsters might actually be less painful than dealing with the unresolved tension between these nerds. He thought idly, but he couldn't deny that he felt more at home here than he had in years.

___________________________________________

Oh, these boys. I love them.

That's all I got.

Previous /// Next

Also on ao3! Here!

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

EXTREMELY interested in The Cube AU- Very fun already! Do you have any other details you could share? Like- The Gang's relationship? Or even how the Stars' felt about being cubed? How did the council even manage to send them there? How do the Gang, Error, and the Stars feel about their... transformation? How did Nightmare get the mask and do any of the others have odd curiosities on them too?

grab your popcorn this got kinda long. i mean i could have made it longer but i kept some things too be included in separate posts.

The gang at first kinda hated each other. to Nightmare they where his henchmen. he says he only gathered them to aid in his spreading of negativity. though deep down he knows this isn't why but is constantly convincing himself of it. Too be honest Nightmare was lonely , but he is constantly self sabotaging his chances of ever actually forming any sort of relationship with... anyone tbh. he's afraid It takes awhile for him to realize he doesn't want too nor have too be the demon he was told he was. he was the only thing keeping himself from feeling happy. Horror only really stayed because of the food promised to horrortale. He didn't like Killer at all and Dust didn't really interact with the gang much outside of missions and fighting with killer. Horror did start to make friends with Cross though. Mainly because cross wasn't stab happy, and also didn't waste food, or skip meals like Dust and Nightmare after Horror had already made food for everyone. Dust like stated before would be constantly avoiding everyone when he could. he spent a lot of time in random places around castle that where hard to reach. and even harder to find. he mainly talked to "Paps" a lot. In this au paps is just a hallucination not an actual ghost. The main reason he is avoiding everyone could be that killer takes any chance to antagonize him. Killer is sort of stuck in the mental loop of always trying to gain more exp. Kind of ironic tbh. most of his emotions are dulled and Fighting gives a sort of rush that too him feel.. something. So he is constantly chasing it. Cross doesn't really know why he's there tbh. he's kind of lost. their relationship slowly shifts too found family but it is certainly a journey. -

The Stars felt betrayed more than anything. They had spent years defending and trying to make the multiverse a better place. Dream already has that small voice in his skull telling him it was because he had failed somehow. That he wasn't good enough. Blue is left wondering just why... WHY. Ink is... confused. he hadn't messed up THAT bad right? he wasn't a terrible person... right? In reality it was partially due too the fact The stars would have tried to shut down the Cube if they had Known more about it. As far as they where concerned it was just a high security prison. They didn't know about how it was designed to essentially be an elaborate form of torture. a world where everything was uncertain, your own body untrustworthy, and everything wants you dead. Dream was starting to get suspicious when he was denied seeing his brother. -

Nightmare's mask has something to do with another character I've made. A scientist who helped make the Cube named Jane. I don't think I'll explain all of that here but i will include it when i post her character. -

As for other oddities and transformations... I think it's time to talk about the mutations caused by the change from magic based to something more physical. The claws on the ends of Nightmare's tentacles are an example, as well as the much less goopy nature. Goop wouldn't stay together without magic after all. Though Nightmare's changes are a little less visually different than some of the other mutations. Mutations are for the most part very very random though.

for Killer: Killer had three fingered hands, and a venomous bite. The hatred that dripped from his sockets is technically just a poison now. His soul kinda got fused with his rib cage so it just looks like a sort of target shaped burn scar in a way. it do glow tho.

here's a doodle of what his hands look like tho.

Dust was one of the more drastically changed individuals. it's possible his blaster attacks had somehow influenced his mutations so now he has a face like this:

when his jaw is closed he can almost pass for completely unchanged. His voice has a strange chittering too it now. the buggyness was completely unconnected too the blaster jaw. but it is there. Dust wears a scarf a lot too hide it.

Cross os the only other one i have Mutations made for atm. He got floof. and ears. honestly this was just kind of for fun

biiiiigg yawn.

he can 100% percent bite someones head off if he wanted too. I wasn't going for any sort of similarity too any animal in particular. but yea... floof... he poofs up if startled. anyways this was certainly a long answer huh :D i hope you enjoyed <3 if you want me too go in even more depth on any of these just ask and i will gladly do so.

[leapdayowo]

Goop!Wally au

First goodbye

A bit of angst is coming very soon..

[worldsewage]

What's your inkfish ocs opinions on water, given how wet your AU is? Any of them wish they could swim without getting melted into a pool of goop?

To most Inklings the opinion on water is similar to asking people what their opinions are on hurricanes. But because a lot of my ocs are from different zones theyre all gonna have different opinions.

If you ask an Inkadian their answer would either be “it’s water, whatever!” (Inksports Inklings who have probably fallen in water before during competitions and assume that’s what it’s like ((it’s not))) or “not messing with it” (inklings who have seen floods and have heard or have been affected by them, and understand the danger)

Respawners outside of watered areas(such as salmon run grounds or turf war stages, or even public areas) are extremely well made, they are perfected, a lot of young inklings who fall into the water get swept up so efficiently into the respawner the effects of water damage has zero time to settle in, nowadays Artificial Ink usually gets spat out around respawners, too, usually in Stages / Running Grounds, lessening water damage even more by diluting the water— so many inklings don’t think water is too scary since they don’t understand how quick water damage is if you fall into respawner-less waters.

July’s nervous around water wasted territory in a typical Inkling Fashion. They’re probably so nervous around water they’d splat ankle deep out of sheer anxiety.

Alligator grew up far east, which is primarily flooded farm land so she’s well versed in the wreckage and death that comes with that, so she’s not as afraid around water, she knows what’s dangerous and what isn’t. Alligator is a tad older too, so she grew up in a time where Inklings were still figuring out how to combat homerunning salmonids who would blaze trails through their farmland— and sometimes dig up paths that lead more water into Inkling territory as they seek places to lay eggs. Her family is born her so her skin is naturally tougher, anyway.

Saint grew up in the south-western Salmonid Territory, it’s an awkward ink and water wasted zone that’s pretty lawless due to frequent feuding between salmonids and the inkling clans that live there. Saint— due to growing up along-side salmonids, doesnt fully understand the danger of water, but knows how to be safe around it. Maybe their ease around water-wasted zones makes them seem reckless, I think a bad slip would make them far more skittish— but otherwise they’re safely wrapped up and ready to go.

Fido is an ex-grizzco employee who grew up far east, much like alligator, a farm boy. Half of his family is krakened since they work in water wasted fields that reach knee-deep. So he’s pretty adjusted to the injuries and aches water can leave, he lost his leg at grizzco— surprisingly, not due to falling into water, but years of water damage finally got to him, and his leg collapsed in on itself sometime during a salmon run, and his skin was too damaged to reform. He still works on water fronts but I think that’s just because he has a weird fascination with water now. He likes that he has an excuse not to tread around on water, though, and his boots stay mostly dry on the boat. He’s probably the only one who would wish to go for a swim.

Samah and Valentine— Despite being Inkfish, are Octarian, meaning they are a species who is united with Salmonids. They understand the dangers of water since their brother species is extremely reliant on it, and Octarians have a higher water tolerance, being submerged is dangerous for Octarians, but otherwise— treading through knee or even waist deep water provides no real danger to Octarians unless they get splatted by some other outside force, forcing them to submerge completely.

Of course, Octarians aren’t gonna go for a dive, but they’re not as skittish since they have less to be afraid of. Samah even more so than Valentine, Samah— despite being from the domes as well, is a Salmo-Octarian. They’re not a hybrid species (that’s not possible) but rather a species of Octarian who grew up along side Salmonids. They’re speculated to have a higher water tolerance but there’s no real scientific basis on that statement, chances are they’re just better versed on how to navigate water.

[fluffle-writes]

Another meme

Eye goop

Weirdcore au Ace trappola

THIS IS ADORABLE AAAAAAA

Your art sparks so much joy (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) and the stance when they react to the sourness! They went italicized lmao.

Ace would be a lil salty about the human having a seemingly negative reaction to his eye goop. But maybe a human who prefers sour tastes keeps on nicking eye goop occasionally and he ends up being flustered about it haha. I wonder if it'd be good mixed in with a dessert? (Perhaps that's why Trey's family owns a bakery haha. Eye goop is good for flavour)

[bet-on-me-13]

So, you know how there are a bunch of Fics where one of the Robins comes back as a ghost when they die? Most of the time it’s Jason, sometimes Tim, and Dick and Damian once in a blue moon

But has there ever been a Ghost Cass AU?

Cass dies while on Patrol, maybe is was a villainous plot, maybe it was a random goon getting a lucky shot, maybe she was killed by somebody she trusted...maybe...

Whatever way she died, Cass ends up as a Ghost.

I can see 2 different paths this could take, depending on where she reforms:

PATH 1: Cass Reforms where she died

Cass is reformed where she died, probably very soon afterwards or a few hours later. The Batfamily have not had time to get over their Grief, they only just retrieved her Body an hour ago and need to go back to the crime scene to investigate.

And once they get there, they see what looks like Cass’s Orphan costume but colored differently, just sitting there in a daze. She just became a ghost, only a few hours after her death due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits, and it was Jarring. Not to mention the Pure Ectoplasm she is made of is reacting weirdly to the corrupted Ectoplasm that is in Jason, making her anxious.

Meanwhile [Insert Batfam member] and Jason are confused, scared, and paranoid. [Batfam member] remembers reading a few articles in passing while researching Lazarus Pits. They were about the Ectoplasmic Entities made from Lazarus Water called Ghosts, how they are imprints of a human consciousness after an emotional death. They are also completely malevolent and non-sentient.

[Batfam Member] doesn’t hope to believe that this is Cass, all the research says that this is a pile of goop pretending to be her. Of course this makes them mad, not only is this thing wearing their sisters face, it will also probably hurt people when it gets strong enough using said face. It feels like an insult. And Cass can’t even defend herself to them, since she lost whatever was left of her ability to speak when she became a Ghost, and she is too dazed and weak to do Sign Language.

[Batfam Member] explains what they know about Ghosts to Jason, how this isn’t Cass at all, just an imprint of her memories. They say this right in front of her, which scares her since they don’t seem to consider her a person anymore, just a thing using Cass’s face

Back when they first read up on Ectoplasmic Entities, he made sure to get a small Ecto-Infused Knife for everyone in the Family in case they ever encountered one.

They bring it out, but before they can do anything, the Ghost of Cass recognizes it and runs away. 

Jason is mad that [Batfam Member] instantly went for the knife, or didn’t think to look for any second opinions.

Cass runs to the Batcave, but she gets there as [Batfam Member] is explaining what Ghosts are on the big screen to everybody else. She also sees her own body, laying on a table in the center of the room. She starts to believe that [Batfam Member] is right, that she can’t be the real Cass, just a reflection. And she can’t stay here, the others are bound the believe [Batfam Member] over her now

She runs away, not even revealing herself to her family.

She runs and runs and runs for hours upon hours, non stop, across state lines, until she reaches a place where her instincts were telling her to go. It feels like the air is clear, like she has more energy. She has made it to Amity Park.

From there you can go in any direction you want.

PATH 2: Cass Reforms in the Zone

Cass reforms in a random place in the Zone, in a color swapped version of her Orphan costume. She wakes up to see a sky of green and ground of purple, completely alone, no one around her.

She wanders for a bit, but a run-in with a Monster forces her to run. As it chases her, she finds that she can fly, but so can it.

As she is running, a blast comes from above her and blasts the monster away. She looks up to see a guy with Green-Blue Skin, pointy ears, and white hair, in a Black Hazmat Suit, floating above her.

He introduces himself as Phantom, and explains that she must be a Ghost. She can’t respond because she lost the last of her ability to speak, but thankfully he knows Sign Language

She can’t remember how she died, but she remembers most of the rest of her life. She takes off her mask, and you can see that she looks like normal Cass with Green Skin, white Hair, and the pointy ears. Also small fangs cause I think those are cool.

Danny helps her around, teaches her about the Zone, introduces his living friends, all that. She even meets a cute clone named Ellie, but that’s besides the point. Eventually, after a few weeks of traveling the Zone and learning about her new abilities, she asks if she can go see her family. Danny agrees, but says that first he should teach her how to shapeshift so she can look human enough to go to the living world.

Which is how Danny and Cass learn that Cass is a Halfa (due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits). While she is thinking of her human form, a ring of gold energy surrounds her and she suddenly has a heartbeat again. She’s also extremely hungry cause Ghosts don’t need to eat, but Halfa’s do (even if it is significantly less)

By the time she goes to see her Family, they are not as high strung or paranoid as they would have been directly after her death, so they are more willing to listen to reason. Also with Danny there (and maybe ellie), he can explain what she can’t.

But now they don’t know what to do, they still haven't figured out who killed Cass, all they know is that she was definitely killed, it wasn’t an accident.

What comes Next? I also don’t know, I need suggestions!

[crimeronan]

hey what is wwaitsoatl?

oh! it's what we are is the sum of a thousand lies, my most popular toh fic by FAR and the thing most toh people here started following me for. back before i got sucked down the princess luz hyperfixation rabbit hole. it's a fic that takes more work to write than any of my others because it has an incredibly involved drafting & editing process. bc i am a perfectionist.

the premise is a canon divergent timeline wherein belos suspects that hunter lied to him at the end of hunting palismen. and completely wrecks hunter's shit forever. and infects him with curse goop in the process. and darius (who, Very Importantly, does not yet have a friendly rapport with hunter) trips over the kid's half-dead body.

and freaks.

and kidnaps hunter n takes him to the owl house. bc that's the one surefire place of refuge on the isles.

there are a bunch of emotional threads, hence why it's novel-length and not even finished yet despite being about just four characters chilling in a house together.

mainly it's about:

hunter unraveling his cognitive dissonance and cult brainwashing in an AU where he doesn't have all of hollow mind's answers; his feelings are Incredibly complicated and messy & he gets incredibly mean and snarly about it

darius grappling with the fact that his own grief and resentment blinded him to a kid who Very Much Needed Him, darius dealing with the fact that actually he never DID grieve his mentor or his mentor's dead family

darius and hunter developing a rapport in a timeline where hunter very much has Not broken out of all the cop shit that darius disdains So Much. so darius is so fucking exasperated and tired all the time

eda trying desperately to help hunter learn to live with a curse / chronic pain / chronic illness, while having very little faith in herself to begin with

luz feeling Horrifically guilty about hunter's curse and injuries, bc she thinks she should have clocked the abuse and brought him home with her or otherwise stopped it

hunter developing an almost immediate and pathological emotional attachment to luz because of her kindness, which complicates all of his complicated feelings WAAAAAY MORE

eda, darius, AND luz all desperately trying to get hunter to admit that he's been abused and that what happened wasn't his fault. you would not believe how fucking long it takes.

i'm actually really, really, Really proud of it -- it's rare for one of a writer's best works to be their most popular, but this genuinely is one of mine. if not my best work, period. there's a lot of nuance and messiness and emotional complexity and grief and arguing that i'm SO happy with.

also, despite the subject matter, it's often extremely lighthearted. some of the funniest dialogue i've ever written is strewn throughout all these serious emotional threads.

i'd apologize for how long this response is but this story is a heart project and has 67,000 published words on ao3 so far. (the chapter i'm writing rn will likely be another ~8,000 words, then there are a couple more chapters to come.) so there's a lot to say!!

it's my most popular ao3 fic for any fandom, ever, in the 12 years i've been on the site. the response has been WILD. if you sort by kudos, it's the 31st most favorited owl house fic Of All Time, the 7th most popular fic involving darius, and the 5TH most popular hunter & luz relationship fic. again, of all time. which is. insane.

people have been very kind and patient with me having been too sick to work on it for a while. there was a seven-month break between chapters 8 and 9, and if i finish chapter ten soon then there'll have been a nine-month break between chapters 9 and 10. so i don't know how many people are actually going to come back to read it, a lot of ppl have moved on from the fandom and such. but i'm extremely extremely extremely grateful to everyone who's given it a look!