#if i ever get around to finishing some things ill post them but

[stray-dude]

i wonder if the people finding my stray art know. i wonder if they know just how gender he is. i wonder if they know i am he.

literally me

[thelien-art]

Very rough concept sketches of Galadriel, Celebrían, and Arwen that I don´t think I will ever finish so now I´m just putting it up here

[itsalwaysdark]

i think itis funny in the past when i would list my interests as if i post abt them i donot post abt the shit im into rly Mainly bc im not rly Into Into anything anymore i occasionally watch or read or play something but i dont do fandom stuff rly much.... just sometimes i get brainworms

[arolesbianism]

Oni pmd back on the brain in particular the backstory stuff. it's not fair that the one time I get to put Olivia into a time loop in an au is in the fucking pmd au and only in the worldbuilding

[kroosluvr]

aftermath

ERMMM this takes place after long winter au third semester.... it could honestly vary but i think sometime btwn 5-10 yrs. sumire is abroad, akira moved back to tokyo after finishing hs/college, goro is. around

SORRY ITS 5am again so ill make this quick . again

QUICK DISCLAIMER this is kinda like a lot of me projecting LMFAOSDOGKJSDHFK@#)40 so like dont read into this tooooo much bc idk royaltrio cld be insnanely ooc here but. YEA.

started thinking abt akira constantly calling up goro and sumire even after 1) goro dies (so they think) and 2) sumire distances herself post-third sem. i elaborate on this on my shusumi fic........ sorry subtle shilling

^ tldr i think these 3 kinda drift apart after the snowglobe world crumbles, that false reality that ironically brought them so close together..... back in reality, things feel Different (but this is Our reality right? why does it feel so strange now?) and so. well its just not the same, no amtter what

the. the “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there” tumblr post

even though they loved each other and knew it too, there was also some sort of looming feeling that it won't last - but it does, still. it exists, in some meaningful sense-

akira sees and thinks about sumire and goro in everything he does, his day to day life, worries about them, wants to tell them about all he's doing, wants to hear about what they're up to. so he does so by leaving voicemails (although in this case sumire changed her number LMFAO. he does it anyway)

in the same vein, sumire thinks about all the things she'd like to tell goro, but with no address to send it to, it's useless. but she writes them anyway - more and more as a solace to herself, conversing with the memory of goro in her head, making him live on in that sense. and with akira i think it's a little more subtle. here she's trying to find a coffee shop that measures up to lebalnc, and of course she doesn't. there's only one leblanc and only one akira. but yeah like in sumire's case she kinda goes these "roundabout" ways in her Missing Them. theres also the added thing of her wanting to be more independent (from goro and akira and kasumi and tokyo and etc etc etc. also elaborated on in said fic)

goro! i think there's smth so poignant about visiting your own grave (i wrote sumire doing htis in another fic. thats an aside) hair cut, mask on, no gloves, he's a different sort of goro akechi but not really in any meaningful sense either. he's just different. sumire leaves the scarf (i think w sumire, she learns from goro like. omg im blanking on the word. LIKE reliability..? thinking realistically? smth like that.) so shes subconsciously thinks oh ill get him something useful like a scarf to keep warm (and a lil more subtle on the love aspect). akira gets him a lovely bouquet, straightforward and honest w his love/adoration, never afraid to spell it out. smth abt goro needing to live a new life now but also he keeps looking back - but this time, there's love when he looks back. there's still love

a kind of "youll always have home with me" sentiment btwn these 3. even if we never return there, youll still have a place in my heart

like "i dont think ill ever have that kind of love again. but i had it once. and even if i couldnt keep it, its still important." THIS IS HARD TO EXPLAIN

anyway tldr theres just some sentiment w royaltrio w Wanting to move on but also holding onto your past, and learning how to reconcile with the horrible parts but also the tender and lovely parts. sometimes there's stuff you gotta leave behind and grow past, grow around, even if it's good. even if it's good, you still have to push forward. <- a lesson that i'm trying to teach myself currently so thats why this is very. projecting. LMFAODSJKHJKSDKW sorry im crnge goodnight

these notes are horrible dont read these.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, kinda angsty

warnings: slytherin reader, the good good post summer break mental illness, everybody's having some issues here, there will be a pt.2 next week to give it a happy happy ending but this isn't so bad, it has a hopeful ending on its own

a/n: wowie another one lol hope y'all enjoy <3

Sirius is hollow when he gets back from summer break - quiet and petulant in a way that doesn't suit him anymore, snapping at his peers and pulling away from people's touch. You can't blame him. Especially not when you're feeling the same. You're not quite as showy about it as he is, that constant, underlying desperation to keep it all hidden burning under your skin. Sirius's suffering is loud - loud enough that you always hope it will drown out yours. It never really does, as far as the other two are concerned. 

He shoves towards the door when class ends, likely stalking back to his dorm to hole up for the rest of the evening. James sighs, a hand on Remus' shoulder comfortingly as the boy stares at the doorway where Sirius just was, his brow furrowed in that worried way that he's mastered. 

"We're going to do some studying together in the common room later… see if maybe Pads feels like joining. You're always welcome to come along with us…?" James asks in that gentle way of his, patiently hopeful. You busy yourself with gathering up your books, knowing that if you look at him, you'll crumble. There is love in the way he looks at you, despite everything. You're sure that, if you take notice of it, it would be enough to condemn you these days.

"I'm going to do some work alone tonight," you say shortly, brushing past the two of them. Remus catches your arm as you try to leave, fingers wrapping around your wrist ever so gently. But when you pause, he lets go of you abruptly, like there's something wrong with his touch against yours. This is the beginning, you think. This is where I start to lose you. 

"If you change your mind…" he begins softly. You nod stiffly.

"I'll let you know." James and Remus watch as you leave swiftly, Remus rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh, as if trying to take back the contact he'd already made with your wrist. This is where it starts, he thinks. This is where you begin to realize that I'm better when I'm left behind.

Remus has to stop himself from startling later that night when he's woken up by a cold hand shaking his shoulder. You hadn't come to study with them that evening, which wasn't surprising, but it hurt something in Remus. James, especially, had deflated, his eyes dull and his hands fidgety while he tried desperately to finish his essay, his thoughts wandering to Sirius and the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin - and then to you, to the stubborn set of your jaw and the hard look in your eyes. Looking down at his own hands, he wonders what worth they have if he can't even save the people he loves.

Needless to say, the last thing Remus was expecting was to have you in his dorm in the middle of the night, one of Sirius's sweaters shoved hastily over your pajamas as you shook him awake. You place a finger over his lips when he wakes abruptly, climbing up next to him without so much as a word as he fumbles to find his wand on his nightstand, casting a silencing spell over the four-poster bed.

"What's going on, dove?" he asks, his hands itching to hold your face, to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your cheeks and soothe you in some way. But he resists - you're here, in his bed, looking at him like you need him, and the last thing he wants is to overwhelm you and have you scared away. The last thing he can bear to do is put his hands on you, his scars glinting against unblemished skin -  something ruined touching something holy.

"I just… couldn't sleep. I'm not - I haven't been sleeping well these days," you respond, and Remus is sure that if he could see you clearly, if he weren't squinting at you through the dark, you'd be shying away, face tilted away from his eyes, away from any kind of vulnerability.

"Well," he says carefully, reaching out to put a hand on your knee. You don't pull away, to his relief. In fact, you relax a bit into it, letting your posture slouch. "Stay here then, yea?" Much to Remus's delight, that's all it really takes for you to move forward, pulling the blankets back to settle underneath them. He joins you, of course, settling in next to you and letting you decide how much - or how little space to leave between your bodies.

When you reach your hand over, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing your thumb over the skin there, he feels a part of him melt in the relief of it, a part of him that didn't realize quite how much he'd missed your touch - your love. He cups his hand over yours, tilting his head to press a series of kisses across your palm. When you continue to let him, sagging further into the pillows, he keeps going, trailing kisses up and down each finger and finishing with your thumb. 

It's then that you pull him closer, tilting your own face up to place your own gentle kiss to his lips before thumping your head against his chest. He lets you, of course, keeping his hand tangled up with yours while the other wraps around you. Before you can sleep, though, he leans close to whisper near your ear.

"James has been wondering where the invisibility cloak disappeared to. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're the one who ran off with it." You can't help but smile at his words, your face still pressed against his chest.

"You have so little faith in me, Rem. Not everyone needs the cloak to sneak around in this castle."

"But you did steal it, didn't you?'

"…I'll give it back to him later." Remus huffs out a quiet laugh at your confession, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"You know he doesn't mind," he soothes. You squeeze his hand in thanks where your fingers are still interlocked.

"Goodnight, Rem… and thank you for this."

"No need to thank me, love. I don't mind at all."

Something clatters to the floor on the other side of the locked bathroom floor and Remus frowns, staring at it like he can burn a hole big enough to see Sirius on the other side - to make sure he's ok. James drapes himself over Remus's back where they're sitting on James's bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Remus lets him, leaning back against him and feeling James sigh at the weight of it, a bit of tension draining from him.

"Were they really here last night? They really came and spoke with you?" James says, his face buried in Remus's neck, a desperate sort of lilt to his voice. Tell me there is hope, he thinks. Tell me I can fix this, still.

"You saw the note they left, love," Remus lets his eyes settle on his nightstand where you'd left the invisibility cloak, a note folded on top with a simple thank you written in it, a heart scrawled next to it that he recognized as yours. The whole thing almost made up for the fact that, by the time Remus had woken up, you'd already been gone.

"Do you think… things will be better now? At least a bit? Were things better last night?" James asks, his arms tightening around Remus's waist. Remus, in an act of reassurance, wraps his fingers around one of James's hands and squeezes gently as Sirius stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and stomping away.

"I do think things are getting better. It's… slower than you and I would like, I know. But all we can is love them - and that, my dear Prongs, I know you can do." James grumbles something unintelligible at the compliment, his face still hidden from view. Remus is sure that, if he could see it, he'd be greeted by the flushed red of James's cheeks. He settles for bringing one of his hands up to press kisses across it, instead, content to bring a bit of hope back to the person he loves - to do something good with this body of his. 

There is hope, he thinks, in this love they all share. There is something here to fight for, still.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

[leftneb]

Curiositas aka sirens!AU

in which Lando is a siren with species dysphoria and Oscar is the defintion of Just Some Guy, who happens to get caught up in Lando's mess. and obviously they fall in love along the way etc etc

I first posted about this idea over 2 months ago and I'm happy to announce that there is now a fic in the works!!! which will likely take at least another 2 months because goddamn the concept outgrew itself (as you can tell by the fact charles and max also, like, exist now) it's sitting at ~8k words rn, which is by far the longest thing I've ever written in my life already, but story isn't even close to being finished, so yeah it'll take a while lmao

for now though I have some character designs and lots of thoughts, which I'd like to share :3

ramblings about their individual designs and details below the cut!!

and massive thank you to my dear partner @lailau7904 for not only holding my hand through writing the fic so far but somehow being even more insane about this whole AU than I am???

LANDO

main character (and POV holder) his design isn't based on any real fish, closest resemblance is to a fake fishing lure (reference provided)

very little scarring despite sirens' hunting culture, some tiny cuts and scratches around the top of his tail from smuggling pretty stones and shards of glass

absurdly bright green scales (I really could've made him fluorescent but I think that would be overkill) which is absurdly shit for stealth purposes but good for catching the attention of potential victims

vague triangle shape language but in a semi-elegant way

doesn't eat fish and would rather not eat human either

MAX

fills the position of a leader in his and Lando's colony, inherited the role in his late teens but grew up to it pretty quickly

shark motif, all sharp and angular shapes, visibly intimidating

lots of scars collected during hunts, wounds covered over by red scales from Charles

his scales are pretty dark but they shine blue when the light hits them just right (plus Charles' scales are a bright red lmao, which is a bit suboptimal for stealth but he thinks it's worth it)

CHARLES

koi fish motif, soft and round shapes

no scarring at all

has known Max since they were kids but actually didn't meet Lando until their 20s despite Max and Lando being childhood best friends

considered legally dead by monegasque officials (this has lore reasons which I'm not about to spoil)

GENERAL NOTES

the AU plays in a modern setting, altough sirens are very behind on human technology

their gills are on the side of their ribs! they can also all breathe with their lungs above water

funky scales patterns on their torsos around "modified" areas such as their gills and back fin

they have no hands but don't let that fool you! I was simply too lazy to draw any, what you would see if I did draw them tho would include:

webbing between fingers!! matches the colour of fins

longer, and more solid, claw-like nails

wrinkled palms and fingertips

I really wanted to make Max and Charles' torsos more life accurate but could not be arsed, they all have Lando's body type, aka I've accidentally twinkified Charles and Max lmao

by now you might have noticed that there's no design for Oscar, and as much as I really want to make a siren design for him that would have some pretty heavy lore implications so I'm... hesitant to do so

other people on my sirenification waiting list are:

George Russell and Alex Albon (for the 2019 rookies circle to be complete)

Franco Colapinto (based purely off vibes)

the whole grid really god I'm so ill

for the record Logan is a human in this AU but he IS present fuck you James Vowles

you may have also noticed the papaya version I labeled as McLaren themed (this one is also the highest quality image I have in this thread if you're gonna do any zooming in please do it on this one,,,,)

all throughout writing and drawing I couldn't help but think about another banger siren!Lando fic: Salt Skin by @strawberry-daiquiris! in which Lando has orange slash papaya scales, which I just had to draw honestly

a lot of my design process was also inspired by a piece by @dumbf1sketches (it's somewhere in the pile of other gorgeous art in that post)

bonus underwater version of all of them because it wasn't bright enough for me to feel good about it being at the top but it's still like, the main colour example to my brain

TAGLIST(S)

AU @mintraindrop @cx-boxbox (I know the og post is from actual ages ago but you two were interested so I humbly offer you these crumbs)

ART @santongkabayo @cyclonixi @alto-the-avocado @loquarocoeur

people that put up with my ramblings on dc @lyslsstuff @peppysinc @girlrussell

[xxcrumbxx]

Dca slasher au belongs to @wyervan :]

Yappin under cut

Hehehhe im happy to report I finished some ruff outlines for the fellas ,im thinking about redoing the lineart agin thats why im calling it "ruff" lol also moons lookin at sun he duse not have snake eyes I just noticed it kinda looks like he duse lol . I wasent shure what there wepons would look like +i dont draw wepons alot so ehh .

Anyway hears anouther wip , Ive been crankin out wips scents the day bf crismas eve bc i got my present early and its a drawing tabllit:0 shes so pretty and fun to work with named her blueberryand I hope we can make wonderfull things together :] . Hehhe

also ofc @wyervan you diserve kind words :] anyway l hope you have a lovely time and that im not bouthering u with the amount of lore im giving my y/n also i gess you added to ur slasher au playlist or i just didnt lisen to it fully (bc my phones a lil janky and pauses things when i listen to long) idk why but man you got some good mf songs on oh and i have a suggestion that might fit the fellas its.

slipknot -viruis of life. *and ik its maby just couenceadence but somesongs lind up so well with my y/n and boy oh boy thats what kick started me into the purfume wip( the masks name is purfume bc when i was making it i was inpashent and tryed it on bf the paint was dry and it was aird out from the meltd plastic where i reshaped it anyway the fumes gave me a headake lol i made purfume a in 2023 and have been doing tutch ups and reinforcing it ever scentse :]

@r0tting-rat hheh*seth rogan laghf* so i just read ur kind and lovely tags when i was about to post , im so happy u think that :] and the thing about them in full body in my stiyle welll hehehaha I love when shit lines up lol ,im glad yall like the cuddly fellas, so um hope you injoy them ik its not full body ill get around to that when i get use to drawing them .im still figureing em out :] heheh yay moots lol. Btw i raad youre writing prompt thing fore the slashers and dude that guy so desurved it like dont sell drugs to kid mf .. SELL EM TO ME >:] lol ( just weed and shrooms plz jack ass jake or what ever the loud ass's name was ) i love moons little song and how freekiy cute sun was at the door dude was sutch a distraction lol :]]

Lil tid bit about what i did last night bc I had fun [ affter cut ]

Okay so I was drawing for awhale affter coming back from a eve party at my stepdads moms place ( idk what to call her) and around like 1:23am I got bord and so I walked to the park in my town bc its just down the rode . On my way there someone was playing Abrahcadabra ( good song ) on speekers in there house so I took my earbuds out to listen to it bc it ecod nicely down the street anyway I swung for like awhile whal smoking then went down the wet af slide ( it rains alot hear) and then i just kinnda swang a bit more .i also found gold and silver confetti on the ground whitch i obveusly keepd bc pretty( and it reminded me of the Dca's Anyway i walked around for awhile listaning to misic and "dance walking" awile as in 3 houers and found new trash every time i tryed to leave so i threw it away which i had to walk back to the biger side not far away but still a good bit

( i fucking hate litter) but it started to feel like someone was messing with me bc like when i whent back to the spot i picked trash up from there was new trash . I kid you not there where 12 fuckin burger king shuger packits on the ground and shoved in the crevis of the sidewalk ??? They where full to and i just >:0 who even has 12 unopend packs of burger king suger packiets ???? Why would u even have that ??

[tiredmamaissy]

hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜

[mushies-stories]

Not leaving this one behind

Slasher!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X F!Reader

summary: Simon moved to America after retiring and had taken up serial killing and stuff and you caught his eye. Simons been realizing some things about himself and he's sure your just what he needs.

warning: murder, gore, smut, pnv, kidnapping, more to be added as i go

Author's notes: so I've not been writing for like ever, but this i just couldn't stop writing. here a little snippet of the set up and what's to come. chapter one is written and ill be revising it tomorrow then it will be posted!

Also happy Halloween for those who care! This is my contribution this season 💜

Full chapter one

prologue

Simon felt a little incomplete. Like his hunt wasn't finished, or it just hadn’t satisfied him enough. Lately he’s been feeling lonely, like killing isn't enough anymore and he's coming to realize that that loneliness is the reason he’s been leaving survivors every once in a while. 

He seems to be developing a ‘type’ some would say as well. When he encounters them he likes the thought of them staying alive to remember him, like he will remember them. Their adorable faces when they cried to him and begged for their lives. Hearing their sweet shaky little voices while their bodies shook in his hold. Seeing how devastated they are when he leaves them alive surrounded by the horrors of their dead friends. 

This last group was just a bunch of highschool football players drunk and being idiots. Not very inspiring. 

The universe must be twisted however.

Here Simon is, on his long drive home from a weekend of hunting and killing only to come across another group at a small dingy rest step. Your group pulled in a few minutes after him while he was filling his tank up and caught his attention the moment he saw a couple dumb guys hopped out of the Rv and two giggling girls followed behind. 

Overall the group looked like your usual unimpressive lot. At least that's what he was about to conclude with, until one of the other girls turned back and called out for someone. 

“Y/N? What are you waiting for, don't you want some snacks?” She asks. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I just wanted to finish this chapter, I'm coming!” Simon's interest then peaked once his eyes were on you. Your knee length skirt swayed around you and you looked cozy in your oversized cardigan. You glanced around a little and in doing so you caught Simon's gaze. He didn't flinch or look away, instead he gave you a short nod. You returned the gesture with a small sweet smile and a little nod of your own before heading after your friends.

He figured you'd wouldn't be as welcoming at the sight of as you were. He had a good amount of height against you and body mass. Half his face being covered by a mask is what really always gets people though. Big and scary described him perfectly.

This was not a group you seemed to fit into based on looks alone he noticed. You just seemed too sweet and nice to hang around a group like this. Or maybe they just looked worse then they all were, maybe Simons had been hunting these kinds of people for so long he was stereotyping them as such a group. 

Either way it doesn't matter, it was because of you the outcome had been decided. The moment Simon's eyes landed on you and saw that sweet little smile of yours he knew. He will follow you to whatever cabin or campsite or whatever and make sure to give you a night you’ll never forget.

With his mind made up he quickly checked his duffle bag for a tracker, if you weren’t staying in a cabin and got off grid it would be able to track you no matter what. The way the RV was parked it wasn’t hard to just place it under the front bumper without being noticed, then he was hopping back in his truck. Simon waits for just one more glance of you as you exit the rest stop, snacks and drinks in your arms and a bright adorable smile on your face.

He followed a few miles behind the whole drive and parked his truck five miles out. You ended up going pretty far off the normal map to an almost completely secluded area of the woods. Thing was it was also fall in the northern america and it's not always that populated this time of year so you happen to be the only people camping out this far currently. 

Simon couldn't believe how perfect these conditions seemed to have ended up for him. These things after all are always done best in the dead of night, and in these woods? Simon couldn't think of a better hunting ground. Now all he had to do was wait.

~thanks for reading~

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello! Im one(1) of the anons that requested the jane doe reader and i thought of a funny scenario

So the character of jane doe was basically decapitaded so, imagine if reader's head isnt atached to their body, and can take their head off .

The tadc cast react to the reader taking off their head and then putting It back on like nothing. Tyy!!!

( remember to rest and drink wáter) :)

TADC cast x a reader with a detachable head!

oh hoho this one is going to be fun because my TADC oc can do the same thing, can take their limbs and head off at will and as needed; so i may or may not let my excitement show in this post and use my oc as a placeholder.. i definitely will.. which reminds me, i have a sketch of my ocs human design as well as a messy ref of their digital body... i have got to draw them more.. maybe ill finish the human sketch sometime today after this post... speaking of this post! this is the last request in my inbox ! after this im gonna take a break for a bit then reopen requests! do not send in requests at this time, please! (this goes for everyone regardless of fandom </3)

CAINE:

technically i think you could consider him with a detachable head... because i dont... think he has a neck... so technically.. not phased at all, he has seen things from various different circus members.. but lets say you came before zooble, and you were also the first circus member who could do that... i think he would be really into it and be amused. probably flies right up to you chattering about that little trick of yours

POMNI:

uncomfy by it, i think it would take her a while to get used to it... i think she would be the same with zooble thanks to the "these are people" thing, with the only reason she didnt freak out at zoobles dismemberment in the pilot being because she was preoccupied with her panic and confusion of this new setting

RAGATHA:

mildly uncomfortable anytime it happens but no where near as uncomfortable as pomni, since she has had her time to get used to a bunch of weird stuff in the circus; both from the circus itself as well as the people in it.. will guide your body to your head if theres ever a scenario where the two get separated.. hand holding... smiles

JAX:

probably tries to convince you to leave your head in someones room or in a box and have some poor unsuspecting person open it.. i think that would scare anyone, even if they were used to your headless activities... probably laughs at your body wandering aimlessly trying to find your head if theres an occasion where it was forcefully knocked off.. probably nudges your head away... this only really works if your body has to blindly fumble and you having to telepathically guide it towards you instead of it just going into autopilot and knowing where you are automatically and has zero struggle beelining for the head... but fumbling... funny

KINGER:

owoo!! jumpscare!/ref

honestly i think sometimes he just rolls with it and other times hes bothered by it; really depends on how hes feeling that day... but i think the majority is that hes used to it thanks to zooble... has probably run off with your head on accident when he meant to run off with you as a whole, usually in the face of danger during an IHA...

ZOOBLE:

completely unphased by it since they can pretty much do the same thing! there isnt really much to be said since zooble neither feels this way or that in regards to your little decapitation trick... if they couldnt mess with their own parts though i think they would find your thing cool, though

GANGLE:

depending on what your digital body is themed around i think this would determine how gangle would feel about it... like zooble is mismatched and is seen taking out their antennae as well as their limbs being snagged off by jax... with zooble, is makes sense, they look like a mismatched mess of different parts.. so if you were something that could reasonably do the same thing i think she can overlook it... now the first time would still be a shock, no doubt about it, regardless of theme.. very careful whenever theres a reason they need to get close to your head, she does not wanna knock it off and potentially upset you

[huckleberryblossom]

rue macnamara and her currently unnamed daughter (ill think of something eventually, rip)

(a whole lot about wotb under the cut)

the way wotb handles disability is um. not great. i think lasky tried to balance an empowering take (multiple times in the series a gnaw wolf's greatest talent is somehow related to/because of their disability, they just dont ever get the chance to utilize it because of Wolf LawTM) with the "accurate" representation of wolf pack structure, but in today's day it really just comes across as a tired representation of disability. and also i just dont think it was ever very good to begin with, because it was just introduced as the way of the world and nothing was done with it, beyond faolan's identity struggles (and edme's, later). and as far as ive gotten in the books, he simply escapes his problems by going to the watch, and iirc, he doesnt feel at home there either. hamish didnt, and says as much to coryn, all he'd ever wanted was to be an equal. which is like, fucked up! and could have been interesting to explore further, but isnt ever. instead theres a bear war, i guess

im not fully finished with my reread of wotb, so my opinion on this might change a little, but man. i think it was a big missed opportunity to set up what is actually just eugenics and then try to navigate around it by slapping a few "your disabilities make you strong :)" here and there on top of it. like! the macduncans couldve revered faolan for jumping the wall of fire, if shadow wolf was about faolan earning his "place" in the clan then they shouldve been behind him after that, his strength was recognized but never utilized. maybe they couldve gone hey, maybe its a little fucked up to send newborns to designated places to die like its an artform and then banish both of their parents, and if they happen to survive we let them stay but only as the lowest ranking member of the pack forever. its made even worse by the fact that faolan SEETHES about it! he recognizes that he's better than this treatment, he just gets used to it! its upsetting to see these threads just let go in favor of other plotlines, because faolan is so passionate of a main character, and horrible injustices are introduced and just forgotten about, because theyre accepted as the way things are.

so idk. i think that conflict is interesting and as someone with disabilities that make my daily life fucking harder, i kind of dont want to just wipe away all those parts of the culture, even as shitty as they are. but im not about to rewrite wotb or anything, so im just going to make some ocs and let them do it. theres some things ill probably get rid of completely (like the ember healing the watch, and the obeas) but for the most part i think i want to tackle the society naturally, within the story of the ocs. also, this doesnt have much to do with the rest of this post, but lasky loves to do "evil family" and its very apparent with the wolves, bc hundreds of years later the macheaths are still naturally evil! so i probably will be addressing that as well, in the way wolves move from clan to clan

i just felt like it needed to be addressed if i was going to start posting wotb ocs, since its just. well its just a mess all around

[sineala]

Lots of love to you Sine💞💞 you are always my favorite stony writer! And I also enjoy your comic reviews so much <3

I’ve been rereading Straight On Till Morning these days, and it’s still one of the best ST AU fanfics I’ve ever read. How’s the sequel going? (I know this question has been asked before😣 hope it will not disturb you!) I’m really looking forward to your new stories!

Wish you and your wife all the best! 🥰🥰🥰

Hey! Sorry it took me a while to get around to answering this; I got this ask on US Election Day and there was, you know, kind of a lot going on at the time. It's very sweet of you to wish me well and I also hope that you are well. I feel like I am doing about as well as most people I know. I am surviving.

I am not sure if you saw this answer from a couple months ago to the last person who asked me about Star Trek AU progress. At that point, I was working on the last scene of Chapter 4 and by the end of the month I had finished the last scene of Chapter 4. The chapter -- as well as Chapter 3 -- is 60,000 words long; the last scene of that chapter is 20,000 words long, so it did take me until the end of October to get that wrapped up. Some of this will probably come out in editing. But I am pretty excited about having gotten that far because the last few scenes of the chapter were the ones I originally wanted to write the story for, so those have been living in my head for about seven years. (I do not think I can describe why I wanted to write them without spoiling the entire plot, but it involves making a harrowingly terrible decision for a very noble reason and then having to deal with the consequences.)

My draft is currently up to 190k and is easily the longest thing I have ever written. I know people who are not me would probably post some of this as a WIP but that is not happening for a few reasons. One is that I am the exact opposite of the people who are motivated to write more by getting comments on a WIP; I tried posting a WIP once and it just made my brain go "okay, cool, I have received feedback, my need to write this story is now sated." Two is that I like to foreshadow things and I keep having to go back and readjust events in the previous chapters to make them make sense with the plot. Three is that if I posted up to the last finished chapter I have, you would all want to knock me down and rifle through my pockets to find the rest of the story, and the rest of it only exists in my head.

So I'm working on Chapter 5 (out of 6 total). Chapter 5 here is the big action chapter where hopefully all the story wraps up. I started that at the beginning of November, got about 15,000 words in, and then I got derailed by, uh, major political events, and then also unexpectedly spending the second half of November being ill with some random virus that was neither covid nor the flu. So that meant I didn't get a whole lot of words in. So far this month I have had a two-day migraine so, uh, we're not starting out great, but that means there's plenty of room for improvement.

But I am still going! I may end up finishing some other stories in the meantime -- it is now holiday exchange season and I want to see if I can get anything written for anyone's stocking in the 616 Steve/Tony server -- but I promise I am working on this.

[filth-burps-writing]

Belly Flu

A diligent young man who usually abbors ungentlemanly behaviour gets influenced towards some gross habits while home sick with the flu by his slobby friend Alex.

Sunday

Robert Albert Lightley could best be described as old fashioned. He wore a perfectly pressed shirt to his college classes everyday and his work uniform (a janitors overalls) were also perfectly ironed. He ate every meal at his dining table/desk in his dorm. He was slightly underweight but he took that as sign to simply up his red meat intake. He was a pinnacle of male excellence … if it was the 60s. Unfortunately it was 21st century and he was frequently told to relax. He paid them no mind. A gentleman never gets his feathers ruffled by other’s opinions of him. He merely puts his best foot forward.

He thought of just how happy his life made him as he settled into bed with a book. A classic of course. He had loved reading ever since he was child. He had also insisted at a young age on only reading older books. He had always found that the children’s books from nowadays relied too much on toilet humour. However, now he was struggling to read and had a rising headache the more he tried. He rubbed his temple to ill effects. He got out of bed, took a pain killer, took off his glasses and went to sleep.

Monday

As the morning came he felt … off. His breathing was shallow. His head felt far too full. He nose felt itchy and blocked.He was so very tired. He had a cold. He got out of bed and started running the hot water while thanking his luck he had his own bathroom. He breathe in the steam and tried blow his nose. No luck. He waited a minute and blew again. Still nothing. He decided to get dressed, eat his breakfast and try again later. He quickly found the Herculean affair. His arms were too heavy. His legs wouldn’t move as fast as usual. Every time he tried to lean he felt like he was going to fall forward. After a while he got dressed and texted his friend to let the professor know that he’ll be late.

As he placed his toast in the toaster his dorm mate walked in. Alex had a very different reason for moving into the one building of single dorms on campus. Alex was a certified slob. He was always wearing the same large black hoodie and pair of pyjamas that had gotten increasingly stained and tight over his beer belly. Robert lived right next to him so got to hear all of his digusting noises first hand. “Hey bro you look like shit” Alex said while heating up his ramen. Robert responded “ I appear to have the flu thank you for inquiring”. “Then why the fuck do you have your weird suit on. Are you really in going to class? It’s post-COVID genius” Alex said as Robert’s phone dinged. He read the message and it told him to stay home. When he looked for notes in his email he found an auto-send that said he risked expulsion by going to class or to the library . “I cant go to class but it’s still a day and I’m going to try to be as productive *cough* as possible.” Robert said as he placed his toast onto a plate then onto a tray and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. “Dude you are sick. Very sick by the looks of things. You have the best excuse ever to loosen up for one day and relax!” Robert shot him a look and went to his dorm.

He nibbled on his dry toast while thinking about what to do that day. His rising discomfort aside he still had to be productive. He pushed his glasses back up for what felt like the billionth time before noticing his entire body was slick with sweat. His clothing was already soaked. He finished his toast before dabbing himself dl with a towel and taking another pain killer. Then brought his tray down to the kitchen and cleaned his dishes. The task took almost an hour and soaked him with water. Maybe for today he could wear something more comfortable. Or at least get changed out of his already unpleasantly wet clothes. He went back to his dorm and stripped off his clothes then looked around for something he might feel a bit better in. As he tried and failed to blow his nose the only thing he could think of was the vest and shorts he did his callisthenics in. But they were already dirty, sitting at the top of his laundry from a recent workout. It wouldn’t matter anyway he thought to himself. He would probably get whatever he wore sweaty anyway. He returned to returned to his daily activities slightly less distracted but still sick and struggling.

As 11am rolled around he was finding it hard to breathe. He went to over to the sink and tried to blow his nose using steam again. It didn’t work. He got an idea but it was so disgusting he dismissed it. But after four more tries it popped back into his brain. Just this once he said to himself. He started picking his nose. It felt like there was wall of dried snot in both his nostrils and if he could wriggle it free he be able to successfully blow his nose. He admittedly felt quite good as he pulled out a large booger in his left nostril. He immediately got to work on his right nostril and after thirty seconds of dedicated digging he unsheathed the critical booger. Feeling slightly gross but incredibly accomplished he blew his nose and to his glee the snot blocking his nose came out. He wasn’t completely clear but he could breathe and that was the important thing. As he blew one more time something gurgled in his gut and an almighty belch passed his lips. Usually he would’ve have stopped it but as he was busy blowing his nose he didn’t notice. It was loud. Very loud. He didn’t know where it had come from.

As he sat embarrassed and red, feeling sorry for himself a knock fell on his ears. It was probably his friend giving him his notes. He hoped he wouldn’t judge him for his shabby appearance. He answered the door but instead it was Alex. “That was incredible belch dude. I know you’re all polite and shit but game can’t help but recognise game ya’know? Hey you look comfy.” Alex grinned once he took in Robert’s sweaty gym clothes. “ I was blowing my nose and it flew out while my guard was down. Excuse me.” Robert got even more embarrassed. “Hey don’t be worried bud I’m impressed! Wait.. did you pick your nose?” Alex looked like he had won the lottery. Robert felt like he wanted to cross the gates of tartarus. “Yes I did. I couldn’t blow my nose and I wanted to get it clear so I could study. Can you leave now?” “ Felt so relieving though right? And really fun to get your finger up there?” Alex sat down on Robert’s desk chair. “ well yes. It was a one time thing I’m never -“ Robert was cut off by a tell tale gurgle in his gut. He rushed to the bathroom before another mammoth belch flew out of his mouth and even forced his lips open. He then slinked out, the colour of a tomato. “Holy shit dude that was awesome. No need to try to modest dude the whole building could hear that! And you need to clear out your guts as well as your nose. Don’t be scared bud.” Alex was excited at first but tapered off into something more gentle. “Really?” said Robert. “Yeah. Clearly there’s something up in there. Enjoy it! In fact I’ll be back.” Alex ran out the room as Robert sat on the edge of the bed.

Alex returned with a two litre bottle of ginger ale and a plastic cup. He sat noticeably close then poured Robert a cup. “ Ginger ale is a famous sick person drink. That combined with relaxing your gut will make you feel way better I promise. *BBUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPP* see I feel great!” Alex put one arm around Robert and put his other hand on his belly. Robert’s belly immediately felt better as Alex’s warm greasy hand started to rub gentle circles on his distended gut.Robert let out a rumbling fart. “Haha nice one. That’s it. I know you’re embarrassed but just let it all out.” Alex’s gentle even tone lulled Robert as a he took a few sips of the ginger ale then let out a short loud burp. He felt a strange warmth in his chest and couldn’t help but chuckle. Alex may be a horrid, disgusting person but he was … kind. Robert closed his eyes and relaxed his posture as Alex rubbed the gas out of his belly. “Don’t you feel better?” Alex said. “Hmm yes. But now I’m tired.” Robert eyes were heavy and he kind of wanted to lie down. “ You should rest then bro. I’m glad I could help.” Robert lay down as Alex tucked him in. “ why are you doing this?” Robert said. “ I love watching people act gross. Taking care of people when they’re sick is actually fun for me”. Robert would’ve usually sneered but he was grateful for the company so he just turned on his side and fell asleep.

When Robert woke up it was dark and his nose was full again. He thought about what happened with Alex earlier. So gross. So ungentlemanly. So … fun. So relieving. So loving. He felt the warmth in his chest again. As he felt his nose he sat up and looked at his already sweaty clothes. He picked his nose and picked out a particularly large booger then blew his nose into his t-shirt. It felt incredible. His nose was clear. He was happy. He felt a strange giddiness. Being gross is fun. He was missing out. No no. Being a gentleman was his duty! He turned and went back to sleep. He was allowed leeway for being ill perhaps.

[radioactivepeasant]

Surprise Snippet because I didn't get time to post a schedule this week

(Woe: Summer Reading Programs be upon me)

But because I can never resist giving Damas of Spargus a hard time, I propose the following scenario: Jak carries germs from Sandover that modern people aren't vaccinated against. Modern people like Damas. And because Jak doesn't do anything by halves, it's a disease that only effects channelers because it's a non-dark-eco eco imbalance.

In his roughly twelve years as king of Spargus, Damas had dealt with the occasional illness. In the two years before he took the throne, he'd gotten all manner of unpleasant ailments. Crane Cough, White Flu, Dust Colic, even! And that was something most Wastelanders grew out of in infancy! But vaccinations were for the elite. For everyone else it was survive or die, unless you were willing to hand over your entire artifact intake for the week.

Damas had been one of the lucky ones: being a channeler meant he recovered far more quickly than some of the other recent exiles.

He'd grown complacent since then. A germ could be dealt with in no more than a day or two with a little eco and a couple hours of rest. He could pinpoint the early warning signs of every disease common to Spargus and Haven alike.

That was, in hindsight, the first sign that Jak had not originally come from Haven. Because whatever was rattling around in that bullheaded kid's immune system was like nothing the doctor had ever seen before.

It started so innocuously. A slight pain behind his eardrums that he could ignore. Stiffness in the joints that he put down to having finally passed forty. Something sluggish in the chest, almost like anxiety.

He already had Anxiety, that didn't narrow anything down at all.

And then, without warning, the symptoms all combined and intensified. It felt like influenza, but without the respiratory distress. Worse somehow.

The boy was present when the symptoms crossed from incubation to a full manifestation of whatever hell he'd just contracted. The timing could hardly be worse: he'd just finished reprimanding two young scouts for fighting in the vehicle pit. And of course, Jak had been one of those scouts. He'd thrown the first punch, because of course he had, but at least it hadn't been unprovoked this time.

"At least". As if there being two guilty parties was somehow better.

Evidently young Kwan had proposed some kind of bet revolving around artifacts, and suggested that the loser would have to go shirtless for a day and show off their scars.

Damas didn't support Jak breaking his nose, but seeing as he was convinced that every Wastelander under twenty-five had some degree of senselessness, he supposed it was probably a valuable lesson for Kwan.

Which did, unfortunately, make it hard to rule fairly between them.

Ultimately, Kwan was given a sharp rebuke about goading non-consenting comrades into bets -- especially when some degree of their autonomy was on the line.

Jak's reprimand was more along the lines of warning him to either walk away or find an older Wastelander to handle things, blast it all-!

But seeing as Jak was the first one to throw a punch, it was Jak who had to forfeit the artifacts he'd picked up for the day in order to pay for the eco Kwan would need.

Not that this stopped Damas from adding that this hadn't been the first time Kwan's love of bets had gotten him into trouble, but by Volcan it had better be the last.

A rather shame-faced Kwan had just left the tower -- like rot was Damas going to allow them to occupy the same elevator at the same time, somebody would be dead before the ground floor -- when the lung cramps started.

"I'm...sorry," Jak was in the middle of saying, with extreme reluctance, "for fighting in the garages. I'm not sorry for hitting him, though."

When his only answer was an unnaturally wet sounding cough, he looked up to find Damas clinging to his staff for support. His other hand gripped his chest, veins standing out. He'd gone pale.

"Oh shi- Damas!" Jak ran up the stairs. "What's wrong?"

"Are you choking?" Daxter asked in loud, exaggeratedly slow words, "Do you need assistance?"

What's it look like?! Damas wanted to shout, but he could barely get his lungs to expand enough to breathe, let alone speak.

Something bitter and hot flooded his mouth on the next cough.

At least his lungs had reopened with the ejection of the fluid, but he couldn't help wondering if he'd just coughed up a vital organ. Damas spat, and something thick and colorless splattered across his boots. It wasn't bile, nor mucus. There were, on closer inspection, specks of color floating in it. Green, red, yellow, blue- the colors of eco, but far more saturated than they had any right to be.

Jak pulled his fingerless glove off and laid the back of his hand against Damas’s forehead like he was a child. Just as quickly, he removed it.

"Uh. Have you been having like...a lot of aches? Joints and jaws and stuff?" he asked nervously.

Damas glared at him, but ultimately nodded.

"Crap. Crap crap- uhhhh okay. Okay!" Jak ran his fingers through his hair.

"Damas, you gotta sit down, okay? It's Blackwater virus, so altitude is bad, right?"

"Th' rot's* Blackwater?" Damas rasped. He clenched his teeth against the ache in his jaws.

"Pal," Daxter said to Jak, with an unusual gentleness, "They don't have that here. Probably haven't for a long time, you get me?"

The ottsel hopped down from his shoulder. "You stay with Lumpy Lungs there, I'm getting a doc to rule out everything else."

Damas knew without asking that Daxter was trying to spare Jak. That boy had a debilitating fear of exam chairs that went beyond the usual childhood disdain for doctor appointments. And by now, Damas wasn't the only Spargan who had connected the dots between his fear of doctors and his refusal to let anyone see all of his scars.

Jak took hold of his arm and pushed him down to sit on the stairs. Any other day the manhandling would've gotten someone at least a good punch in the gut. But right now Damas could barely catch his breath enough to stand his ground. That was humiliating even without the unidentified fluid still lurking at the back of his throat.

"Okay, okay-" Jak was talking more to himself than to Damas. "Eco's pretty saturated so you're prooooobably right at the beginning of this. Crap.”

The boy dropped to sit beside him with a groan.

"I- crap! I'm sorry, Damas! I didn't think I was in here often enough to pass Blackwater to you! I swear, I thought I wasn't contagious anymore!"

The pinching in Damas’s lungs returned, and with it, the wrenching coughs.

"You-?" he managed to gasp.

Jak winced. He looked so strangely young when he felt guilty about something.

"Two- two weeks ago? Remember I didn't take any jobs for a couple days and you had someone go make sure I was still in the city? I was getting over Blackwater virus. I um."

He tilted his head back and blew out a breath.

"Used to only get it when I was little. But after the- after what Praxis did to me, I'm more susceptible to it than I used to be. Usually I can catch it in the incubation period before it gets bad, but I've been more focused on work than tracking symptoms."

"Why," Damas wheezed, "didn't you just get eco?"

"From the white coats? Rot no!" Jak snapped.

"From. The well." Damas bent double with another cough. "I know. You're. A channeler."

"Oh." Jak looked away and tapped his fingers together nervously. "Good point. But...no, eco doesn't work on Blackwater."

"What?"

"It's the eco that's infected."

"What?!"

* author's note: the use of "rot" as a curse word in Spargus is used as an abbreviation of an older curse. The full phrase, usually lobbed at Marauders during skirmishes, would be "Go rot with your dead gods". That's a bit of a mouthful, so Wastelanders just looking for a handy expletive will shorten it to "rot"

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Legend said no one had ever made Damas of Spargus do anything against his will. Or at least, no one that lived to tell the tale. The previous ruler of Spargus didn't count. Just the idea of telling the king where he could and couldn't go was sacrilegious!

...unless you were the new kid, apparently.

In fairness, Damas didn't actually remember Jak talking to the doctor and that blasted moncaw. He didn't remember the moncaw reluctantly giving in to Jak’s...strongly-worded...demands to be shown where Damas slept at night. What he did remember was a ringing in his ears that blocked all sound, and a vicious ache in the front of his skull. He remembered someone slinging his arm over their shoulder, and then he was coughing too hard to actually pay any kind of attention to his surroundings whatsoever.

He didn't remember entering his rooms. But he most certainly remembered the moment he realized he was on the couch he used as a bed when he couldn't bear to unlock the room he'd shared with his wife and child. Jak was all but shouting at a monk who had apparently followed them in.

"He doesn't need eco! You give him that, he's gonna feel five times worse!"

"I hardly think a boy is qualified to tell me the ways of eco."

"It's rottin' Blackwater! You wanna help him, or you wanna poison him?!"

The monk planted his feet. "You will not stop me from treating my king, newcomer." He reached for the flask of eco all monks carried.

Daxter made a sound like a buzzer. "Brrrzt! Wrong answer! Jak, get this clown outta here."

Before Jak could oblige, Damas caught him by the wrist.

"No. Fighting," he coughed, and gave what he hoped was a stern look.

Jak softened his voice immediately. "I'm not, I'm not. Trust me, okay? I'm helping you."

"Sire!" cried the monk, clearly worried, "The scout won't listen to reason! The doctor brought me in because he couldn't identify this poison in your system! Let me give you the eco your body needs to heal, please!"

Jak shook his head firmly. "The virus will use it.”

"What virus?!" Brother Rhys exploded, "These are not the symptoms of a disease, they are the symptoms of a toxin!"

"I am aware." Jak turned away from him. "I get this about once every two months. I know what I'm talking about, okay?"

Daxter hopped up onto the couch as if he meant to intercept any eco. "It sounds counterintuitive, but you gotta go with the old ways on this one, doc. Modern medicine makes it worse."

Jak crouched in front of the couch, ignoring the monk.

"I'm gonna get you some water, okay?" he said in a low voice, "This is pretty much going to wreck your system for a couple days. You should probably cancel any meetings you got coming up."

"Probably?" Daxter sounded offended. "Try absolutely! Blackwater puts you out of commission for days, and you're you!"

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do-" Jak started.

"Yeah we are," Daxter interrupted.

"...yeah, I am," Jak sighed in resignation.

"I know it sucks, okay? But you gotta let this flush itself out."

"And how. Exactly. Will it do that?" Damas growled.

Who did this boy think he was, giving him orders like they were kin? He was barely out of puberty and he wanted to take command?

"Charcoal."

"You must be joking," Rhys complained, "We've gone back to the dark ages!"

"Why d'you think it's called Blackwater?" Daxter asked dryly. "You gotta flush the toxins the old fashioned way."

"Don't think," Damas wheezed around another chest cramp, "that there won't be a reckoning for this, boy, because there will."

"Uh-huh. After you drink the charcoal.”