#self indulgent trash

[tixuctoad]

Grab the forest monster and SQUEEZE him!!!!

(you have a step ladder)

[strawberry-flavored-rotting-bugs]

♡ LEON KENNEDY RENTRY RESOURCES ♡

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Faith

Kim Rok Soo; a conversation about faith.

"Do you ever think of believing in something before?"

Kim Rok Soo raised his head when the question slipped from their lips. It wasn't particularly an odd question, but it did give him a twinge of unease at the pit of his stomach. His dark eyes turned to them, and he saw a flicker of curiosity in their eyes.

When he stayed quiet for a second too long, they added for clarification, "Faith. Gods and religions and whatnot."

Rok Soo lowered his eyes from theirs. The question surrounding faith wasn't something he spent his time mowing about when they lived in an apocalyptic world where everything around them was despair personified. If he were to confess, the idea of a higher being existing and seeing all of this pain and not doing anything to stop it made him feel slightly bitter.

But then again, such an omniscient being can't possibly understand the pains of a mortal, smaller being.

"I don't..." Rok Soo began, choosing his words carefully. He noticed a gap he hadn't noticed before with this question and he didn't want to destroy the semblance of understanding between them that had been built over the years over the matter of faith. "I don't really do that."

"I see," they replied with a faint hum. "I'm sorry if that was something invasive to ask."

"Can't be invasive if there's nothing to invade," Rok Soo replied, taking a swig from his bottle of soju.

They let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose so."

There was a moment of silence that hung in the air between them before Rok Soo added slowly, "It's not that I haven't thought about it. I just... don't have that connection."

They smiled. "I understand. I struggle with it sometimes, too."

"You do?" Rok Soo raised an eyebrow.

They laughed when Kim Rok Soo leaned back in interest at their confession. "I do, yes. It's so hard believing in something you can't see or prove. I believe there's an analogy for it using teapots."

Rok Soo tilted his head. "Russell's Teapot."

They clapped their hands once. "That's it, that's the one!"

"I constantly think about it," they murmured quietly with a wry smile. "It's exhausting."

Another silence between them. Rok Soo didn't know what to do or say to respond to that admission. Was he supposed to tell them he's sorry? Reassure them that their faith is right and they shouldn't be worried when he himself does not hold onto a belief?

"If a god were to exist," Rok Soo began carefully. "It's hard to imagine that they'll understand us."

"That's the opposite of what I had been taught ever since I was young," they replied with a hearty laugh. "That whatever we do, our God will understand us, because He is a merciful God."

Rok Soo looked up at the ceiling and they simply looked at him with a smile. "Tell me."

Rok Soo looked back at them. "What?"

They leaned to him and then tapped at his temple twice with their finger. "Tell me what's in here. What you're thinking."

Rok Soo made himself comfortable on the floor, his tailbone slightly hurting. They had been sitting on the floor of the balcony of his apartment for a while now, their empty bowls of ramyeon stacked by his side and two empty bottles of soju between them both. The cool wind blew against his dark hair and their own, which made him turn to look at them properly.

"I think the idea of a god being perfectly loving, all-knowing, powerful, and everywhere present could not exist without contradictions," Rok Soo began quietly.

"Me too," they admitted with a wistful smile. "A loving God. Yet why does the devil receive no mercy?"

Rok Soo adjusted his position, suddenly interested in the mention of the devil. "You think the devil deserves mercy?"

"Only He could give it to 'em," they said, gesturing at the sky lazily. "Does that mean... even the worst of the worst could still not be forgiven?"

They look up at the sky. "Do you think... our comrades could forgive us?"

Rok Soo grew quiet. He suddenly dreads this conversation.

They chuckled in resignation. "God, who am I kidding? If a God can't even forgive me, then how can--"

"Enough." Rok Soo sighed. "The soju is getting to you."

"Maybe it is," they hummed, leaning to him and closing their eyes. "I'm sorry."

Rok Soo stayed in his position, holding onto his bottle of soju and looking at it thoughtfully.

"You know," they began softly to him. "I may struggle in believing in my God, but not you."

"Never you."

[cecoeur]

He's having a banana | 2024 monaco grand prix red flag stoppage

[jeffy-reblogz]

more hotel redesign stuff (previous ones here and here) because I got inspired

[airborneice]

sooo two days late here's my thing for @sketchbookweek Day 2 - Past/Future / Hilda

uhh this one is a fic, unfortunately for everyone. the fic part is. under the cut. I'm gonna go hide in my fridge now byeee

In which Hilda reflects on how life has changed since she left the wilderness.

———

The wilderness never seemed to change, when Hilda returned there. Sure, new plants sprung up and new creatures made their homes there, it was one mountain short and a few woodland paths had become overgrown in her absence (which made trekking through them more fun, actually), but everything that mattered was still there.

The trees cast dappled patterns on the ground the way she remembered as she made her way underneath them. The grass felt the same underfoot, just like when she’d walked these paths as a child, even after all these years. There was the same gentle breeze rustling her jacket and catching in her hair, the same sense of peace that settled in her soul, that told her she was back where she belonged.

It was all just as it had been the day she left. Well, except for one thing - 

“You’re it!”

Hilda jumped as something small and pink crashed into the back of her leg, slightly knocking her off-balance. Before she could react, her little sister bounded away from her, taking off up the forest path.

“Wha - hey!” Hilda called after her with mock-indignation, while Mattie ran further up the trail, giggling gleefully.

“You can’t catch meeee!”

Hilda grinned. “Oh, it’s on,” she said, getting ready to break into a run. Before she could move, she heard Mum’s voice ring out behind her.

“Hilda, just don’t go too far, okay?” She called, making Hilda turn her head. She and Kaisa were standing at a fork in the path several yards back, but in the quiet of the forest, her voice carried easily. “We’re going to find somewhere to set up the picnic.”

Beside her, Kaisa shifted the picnic basket she was carrying in her arms, watching Mattie ping-pong around the woods with an amused expression.

“You know you’re about to be outrun by a six-year-old,” she pointed out helpfully.

Hilda stuck her tongue out at her.

“Yeah, we won’t go too far,” she called back to Mum, turning on her heel and locking eyes with the six-year-old in question.

Mattie, who seemed to have come to a stop while the others were talking, shrieked in delight and took off running. Hilda shook her head fondly. Maybe being in the wilderness really was doing some good for her. They hadn’t been able to play like this back at home. 

“Hey, wait up!” She called, running after her.

Mattie pivoted on her toe and fixed her with a grin.

“Nope!”

Hilda wasn’t sure what else she had been expecting, really.

She ran after her at a leisurely pace - making sure to stay just slow enough to let Mattie get a decent lead - watching as the girl ducked in and out of bushes and getting the odd spike in heart-rate as she tripped over a tree root and righted herself at the last second, only to take off again. She’d gotten quite far ahead now, to the point she was barely visible through the expanse of trees. It wasn’t as if Hilda had to worry about losing her, anyway, not with her high-pitched giggles carrying through the trees like some kind of sonar. That child couldn’t be stealthy to save her life.

Until Mattie ducked out of sight, and the laughter stopped.

Hilda came to a stop for a moment, feeling the silence grow uncomfortably heavy.

“Mattie?” She called out, to no reply. 

Cautiously, Hilda picked up the pace, pushing past the now thinning-out trees. She knew from experience that there was nothing dangerous - or at least, nothing that dangerous - out here, but this felt off, to say the least. Laughter and shouting she could deal with, but as far as she could remember, “quiet” was not a word that ever appeared next to Mattie in a sentence.

Turning the corner though, she could suddenly see why. Instinctively Hilda slowed to a halt.

Of course. Of course it was here.

Up ahead of her, where the trees thinned out, was the Northern Elf County. And just behind it, even more tattered and broken than she remembered, lay her old house.

The wilderness had almost fully reclaimed it now. Moss and lichen covered every inch of the decaying boards, the remaining wreckage of pipes and wood sunken into the earth. Weeds had sprung up around it, including a blue nettle which had woven itself through the debris like a fine thread. If it hadn’t been hers, she might not have known it used to be a house at all.

Just in front of it stood the small form of her sister, seemingly locked in place. Hilda watched as she stood there a moment, not moving an inch. Then, slowly, Mattie turned her head to look back at her, a slightly fearful look in her eyes.

“Oh - oh,” Hilda hastily closed the gap between them, putting an arm around her sister, which the child promptly latched onto. “Hey, it’s okay!” She said quickly. “It’s not scary.” She smiled at her reassuringly, knowing Mattie wouldn’t fear it if she didn’t. “This is just my old house.”

Still clutching her sleeve, Mattie blinked, the frightened look in her eyes melting into something resembling curiosity. She looked between Hilda and the ruins, a tiny crease forming on her brow. Then - 

“It’s quite small,” she said quietly.

Hilda snorted.

“It was bigger when I lived in it,” she replied, dropping down roughly onto the grass. Though she still looked unsure, Mattie followed suit, crossing her legs under herself while maintaining a grip on her sister’s arm.

“It used to be a little cabin,” Hilda explained. “Our great-grandad built it. It’s where me and Mum lived before we moved to Trolberg.”

“…Oh,” Mattie replied, looking again at the heap. Her grip on the sleeve had relaxed, and Hilda exhaled in relief. It was a good sign Mattie was speaking a bit more, even if a little confused-sounding. Now she thought of it, Hilda wasn’t entirely sure she’d talked about her old life to her little sister before. It had all been over long before she had been born, after all.

Beside her, Mattie tilted back on the grass, staring at the ruins as if trying to picture them as something other than wreckage and moss. But she looked more curious than confused now.

“Did you like it there?” She asked.

Hilda followed her sister’s eye-line to the wreckage, and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

She sat back on her hands, the grass soft under her fingers, and lifted her gaze to the horizon that was so achingly familiar.

“We always had the best view of the woff-migration,” she said, noticing with a smile how her sister perked up immediately (and making a small mental note to find a good spot for woff-watching later). “And it was always so peaceful out here. It felt like it was just me and Mum and Twig in the whole world.”

“Why did you leave then?”

“Oh, um,” Hilda paused for a moment, wondering if this was straying into too-scary-for-a-six-year-old territory. “Well…” she hazarded, “... a giant kind of trod on our house. Accidentally,” she said. “It was sort of my fault, I was trying to help him find someone - that sort of thing doesn’t happen anymore, though,” she added quickly, seeing her sister’s eyes had gone wide.

To her relief though, her words didn’t seem to have the impact she’d feared. After a moment Mattie just hummed thoughtfully, turning back to the cabin remains.

“That’s sad,” she said quietly.

Hilda hummed softly, watching the spot on the horizon that had once been hidden behind the cabin roof.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, I was pretty sad about it for a while.”

A stray breeze ruffled the grass around them, making the blue nettle sway. If she squinted she could almost still see what it had looked like before, the patches of warm amber light that shone from the windows at night and the spot where Twig would curl up by the fire. They were probably sitting right where she’d met a troll for the first time.

Beside her, Mattie shifted slightly, bringing her swiftly back to reality.

“Oh, but  - I mean - it wasn’t all bad,” Hilda added quickly, wondering if this might also be a bit much for a six-year-old. “I still got to go on adventures. And I got to meet Frida and David, and Tontu and..”

Hilda trailed off, lost in thought. Now she thought about it, so much of the life she knew now had only come after they moved.

In the wilderness it had just been her and Mum and Twig, and she had never wanted - never even contemplated - anything more. But from there her family had only grown. First with Alfur, then Tontu and…then Kaisa, and sometime later down the line, Mattie too. Somehow, despite spending her life bringing home all manner of strange creatures to join the household, that had been the biggest surprise. Not just the slightly scary witch from the library coming to live with them (which, yeah, to begin with had felt kind of weird), but how much things had changed with her.

It had taken a while, of missing the wilderness and feeling awkward about all the changes going on, but before long she’d had to admit that life was better with this new family in it.

Little moments were coming back to her, as she sat there in the grass in the afternoon sun - Mattie had gotten bored and got up to investigate the elf village by this point, tip-toeing around the tiny houses with the utmost care - not moments from her life in the cabin, but what had come since. What couldn’t have been if they’d stayed.

…Struggling through homework at the kitchen table last thing on a Sunday night with Kaisa (in theory helping but usually just joining her in staring at her textbook in despair). Forlornly muttering something along the lines of not being smart enough for this, only for Kaisa to take her head out of her hands to look at her with a glare that could bore through steel.

“Hildie. I studied advanced transmutation magic to the nineteenth level and I have never in my life seen something as fucking complicated as this,” she deadpanned, while Hilda subsided into giggles. “Seriously. I’m going to hex your maths teacher.”

…Sometime after they had returned from the Fairy Isle, standing at the doorway of the flat, open-mouthed, watching as Mum reached for a book off the high shelf with her feet not quite touching the floor. Opening her mouth to call out in excitement before feeling a gentle tap on her shoulder.

“You know she’ll only worry that other people might see,” Kaisa whispered, having somehow silently appeared beside her. Kaisa turned her gaze back to Mum, a loving look in her eyes, and Hilda had the distinct impression that she hadn’t been the first to notice.

“Let’s just let her have this, for now.”

…A year before that, hovering uncertainly by her parents' bedroom door, the morning after they had left for the hospital, excited and a bit scared and a well of emotions stirring in her chest. Mum and Kaisa calling her in with hushed voices and her climbing onto the bed in the early morning sun, cuddling up to them and the bundle in their arms and being assured that everything was fine, Mum was fine, and “Why don’t you say hello?” and… everything stopping as she laid eyes on her sister for the very first time. 

Coming back to the present moment, Hilda watched as her now more grown sister cautiously approached the blue nettle and very gently ran a finger over its petals. How strange that something beautiful could grow out of so much loss.

After a moment of inspecting the nettle, Mattie turned back to Hilda and pointed at it excitedly.

“Hildie! There’s a blue nettle!” She called.

“Oh wow, really?” Hilda called back in feigned surprise. “Is that good?”

“Yep!” Seemingly satisfied with what she’d found, Mattie started making her way back towards her, carefully dodging the elf houses as she went.

“Tildy says they’re good for magic, but I didn’t want to take it because…” She paused as she stepped over the final elf house, teetering a little as she cleared it. “...Because there’s only one and the elves might like it being there.”

Briefly Hilda remembered the last time she had tried to take a plant from an elf settlement without permission, and had to agree.

“Yeah, I think that was a nice thing to do,” she told her. Mattie smiled, then plonked herself down by Hilda’s side again.

“So…” Hilda said, once her sister was settled. She nodded her head towards the ruins. “Not scary?”

“Nope, not scary,” Mattie replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “I bet it was nice there. Blue nettles only grow in nice places.” She was quiet for a moment, then - 

Hilda felt the familiar weight of her sister leaning into her arm.

“Sorry your house got stepped on, Hildie” Mattie said softly. “ ’Specially after you were nice to the giant. It’s not fair.”

“Aw, Mattie,” Hilda smiled, wrapping an arm around her little sister and pulling her to her side. Mattie snuggled in, contentedly burying her cheek in Hilda’s jacket. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

She turned to look at the girl beside her, all bright eyes and a curious smile. It was hard to believe she’d had a life before where she wasn’t in it.

“You know…”

Hilda lifted her gaze, laying eyes on her old house and, for the first time, feeling something other than mourning. Something much warmer and kinder, and unshakingly certain.

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[piosplayhouse]

Binghe winning by a huge margin in the same round Shen Qingqiu loses the queer character poll despite not even knowing or caring what sexuality is is really funny and incredibly canon

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

to any new folk here wondering why i don't reblog more stuff from the fandoms i'm currently drawing for (ex. stardew and mouthwashing):

this is because i'm scared of going into their tags. had not-so-great experiences doing that in previous fandoms—seeing discourse and stuff that just brought me down and drained the passion i had away. so now i just cross my fingers and hope cool stuff happens to float across my dashboard instead. 🤞

[t00thpasteface]

btw i wrote my own spin on the "arcade was the guy the king punched" bit. it's super quick. tl;dr:

[azurendays]

Me: There is a lot of interesting discussion around Jason being a father and what that means to him. The new fears that keep him up at night, the long looks in the mirror about his past and present decisions that have hurt others and himself. The isolation he put himself in and is combating now, and what it means for his kid. Jason looking at the examples of fathers he has had and terrified in how he’ll end up emulating them (either continuing their good or being stuck forever in their shortcomings)

Also me: Hehe girl dad Jason with a meta kid hehehe

So anyway; this is Ballad. Don’t ask me nothing about her I just work here (pls ask me I have so many ideas)

[squishi-bunni]

"I'll always love you."

Howl x Reader Drabble

Hurt-Comfort

Reader has abandonment issues

"Love, what's wrong?"

"Are you going to leave me?" I ask.

His eyes widen at me. "What?"

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Are you going to leave me?" I repeat. "When I stop being interesting, are you going to toss me out? Will my true self repulse you?"

Howl grabs my shoulders firmly, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze is stern, but his eyes still have some softness.

"Even when I learn everything there is to know about you--every quirk, every flaw, everything you may for some reason hate about yourself--I will stay by your side."

For some reason, I broke into a fit of sobbing. I don't know why exactly, but at those words--words I've never heard from anyone before--everything I had been holding back broke through the damn I'd built.

Howl pulled me close, pressing my chest flush against his, and he gently caressed my face, wiping away the tears.

He held my cheeks like porcelain pots and made me look into his eyes. "I know you're used to being left behind, but I promise my love, I'll never leave you. No matter what, I'll always love you and always be yours."

There was nothing else I could do but smile into his hands. I held his face in the same way he held mine and said, "I'll always love you, too."

[tixuctoad]

Get rizzed loser ☝️☝️

Late night posts are BACK IN TOWN BABEY

Alts + other stuff under the cut

The silly!!!!

[lizstiel]

Dean’s sitting at the kitchen table eating meatloaf when it all sort of hits – and he’s desperate to remember it exactly how it happened.

With his fork raised halfway to his mouth, a dollop of meat and sauce perched precariously on the tines, his eyes wandered over to where Cas stood by the sink in a pair of ratty pajama bottoms and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. (One of Dean’s old t-shirts, because once Cas gets his shoulders into them they never really sit the same way.)

He’s got soap up to his elbows, scrubbing methodically at the dishes Dean just dirtied, his brow a taught, concentrated line. He’s bringing the same kind of meticulous focus to the dishes that he used to bring to leading the armies of Heaven; that singular kind of attention, both unnerving and admirable. (Dean had once tried to explain that he didn’t need to wash them quite so vigorously, to which Cas had deadpanned, “Do you know how many food particles remain on the dishes you wash, Dean?” It quickly became his job, after that.)

It’s early July. About 6:30pm. The window over the sink is cracked, and the front door is wide open, letting the sound of cicadas and crickets drift in with the summer breeze. The sun’s starting to set behind the field, casting the world in that particular orange glow that has always made something in Dean ache. In the other room, the record player Sam got them for Christmas plays a beat up Janis Joplin record he’d found at a secondhand store in town. The opening chords of Me and Bobby McGee have just started, and the cicadas are humming, and the crickets are singing, and the sun is setting, and Cas is standing in old pajamas washing dishes Dean just used to make them dinner and –

Cas tilts his head.

This isn’t revolutionary. He does it a lot. A very ingrained behavior, some might say. But he isn’t confused, he’s reacting. To the song. He doesn’t react to music the way Dean wants him to, never has, but in his own way, it’s almost like he’s leaning closer to hear it. An infinitesimal thing. The smallest gesture. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Dean has never loved him more than he does at this moment: backlit by a summer sunset in their house in the middle of nowhere, hand washing dishes and listening to Janis Joplin.

Cas turns when the sound of Dean’s fork clattering on the plate sounds, but Dean just scoops him into his arms, chases any worries away with a kiss, and then another, and then one more for good measure. Cas laughs against his mouth, desperately trying to keep his soapy arms away from Dean’s dry clothes. “Dean,” he chides, squirming and chuckling, trying to extract himself from Dean’s grip. “I’m not finished.”

“I’ll get ‘em tomorrow,” Dean promises, peppering sweet little kisses down the line of Cas' throat. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. It tickles all the way down. “Love you so much,” he says, because he wants to. Because he’s so full with it he’s overflowing. Because if he doesn’t tell him right now, in this moment, and every moment after this one, he might die. He needs him to know. It’s vital that he knows.

Cas’ laughter warms, and he slides one soapy hand to the back of Dean’s neck, eyebrows raised in challenge when he shudders at the sensation. When Dean doesn’t immediately shoo him away, he slides the other soapy hand up Dean’s arm. “Dean?” He’s not worried, the timber of his voice is honey-smooth and light, but he’s confused. Not that Dean doesn’t tell him often, and loudly, how much he loves him, but to be fair this did kind of come from nowhere, so he understands. It’s just much too much. It’s not enough and it’s everything. It’s everything in the world Dean has ever wanted.

Janis Joplin is singing freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, and Dean’s arms are loose around Cas’ waist, and he loves him, god he loves him so much, so he kisses him on one corner of the mouth, and then the other. Janis says, nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no, no – and he rocks their bodies together, slow, to the beat of the music. Cas’ arms come to wind around his neck automatically, and his smile starts to sprawl into something reserved for only the really good moments. Wide and gummy and for Dean – and feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. He presses his forehead to Cas’ and they just sort of sway there like that, smiling at each other like this might be the last chance they ever get.

Cas says – “I love you, Dean,” just as Janis is singing, you know feelin’ good was good enough for me – and it occurs to Dean that he’s dancing in the kitchen with the love of his life. He thinks back to the longest, loneliest nights he spent staring up at the night sky, believing wholly he’d die bloody and alone on the backend of some random hunt, and how the smallest (but loudest) part of him had wished for exactly this. For someone to hold him and see him and dance in the kitchen with him, barefoot and covered in soap.

He kisses the tip of Cas’ nose, the lines under his eyes. Doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas is wiping tears away with the pads of his thumbs and soothing hands through his hair. He’s crying, too. Laughing and crying and telling Dean he loves him, he loves him so much, he’s loved him from the first moment he saw him.

It settles in Dean then – really settles deep, and true, and good – that he was meant for this. He wasn’t born to be a weapon. Wasn’t born to be a son, or a father, or a brother. Wasn’t born to save the world or to end it – was just meant to dance. His arms were meant to hold. To sway them both around the cheap linoleum floor, to sling low around Cas’ waist and spin them both ‘til they were dizzy with it.

They laugh and kiss and Janis is saying – good enough for me and Bobby McGee – and Dean is thinking – Yeah. Yeah, it really is.

[feddy-34]

literary genius at work here folks

[caseyjones2012]

OPINIONS ON MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE (THE BAND)???

ONE OF THE BEST BANDS EVER!!!!! I LOVE THEIR SONG LIGHTS OUT, ITS ONE OF MY FAVES ALONGSIDE SHUT ME UP AND STUPID MF

[akirenhell]

"I am ghoulified...Inside youuuu~"

Soooo, even though I haven't played any of the games, the Fallout brainrot got me tight enough to binge the TV show AND learn some of the lore, cause HOLY SHIT, the attention to detail they put into it is impressive.

As some of you have probably seen, I did show some sneak peeks of this guy a few reblogs ago, but now here he is in full color!

Sooo, this is Mucky, a rather special ghoul due to the fact his hair has actually survived the massive doses of radioation he has gained and his incredibly slimy and filthy skin, which always looks like its melting down from intense heat. He's a bit of a celebrity in the wastelands, strolling around with his band looking for a good place to perform his music (which is the equivalent of 90s industrial rock, mind you).

Personality wise, he's pretty crass and cocky, but if you hit his right points, he can get pretty shy and flustered. Regardless, he's not exactly an asshole, for he can be pretty polite at times despite how violent his music can be.

(Backstory and fun facts under read more)

Before the Great War, Mucky's name used to be Michael (something he has long forgotten about). He was considered an outcast due to his rather radical way of thinking and not following the "American norms" of what's good and not, especially when it comes to music, one of his few favorite pasttimes and the only way he had to fully express himself.

However, ironically enough, music was also the thing that almost lead him to his doom. One day, the once human called Michael actually managed to release an album of his own music, and even though it wasn't a massive hit, it was very well beloved by specific groups of people, which were those that were unsatisfied with society.

Due to the fact his music could be considered "commie propaganda", Michael was almost murdered for this by none other than the Enclace. Yet oddly enough, what saved Mucky was the same thing that doomed humanity, for his failed assasination attempt happened the day the bombs fell.

Despite getting severely burnt and hit with a massive dose of radiation for him to turn into a ghoul, Michael survived the attack by hiding in a sewer, where something strange happened. Call it whatever kind of luck you want, but due to the radiation and his slowly melting skin, his body managed to mutate with the sewer waters, thus turning him into a foul smelling, slimy ghoul made of muck.

Hence his new name: Mucky. Promptly given by those who considered him a freak of nature (mostly humans who hate ghouls, obviously).

The rest of the years after the war remain fuzzy, but eventually, Mucky, alongsides a group of ghouls that found comfort in his music, made their way towards Necropolis, the city of the dead; where the filth ghoul settled down and, with an uncertain future but a strange yet newfound liberty, he started to work in his new albums to share with the rest of the wastelands. Be it with humans, ghouls, super mutants, it doesn't matter; for music is one of the reasons why he managed to remain sane even to this day.

And maybe the real reason why he hasn't gone feral yet.

Post-Fallout 1, Mucky obviously left Necropolis due to the Master's invasion on the city. Thankfully, he didn't leave alone, for two super mutants actually joined him as bandmates thanks to his mercy.

And so begins his life as a rockstar in the wastelands.

Facts:

-Mucky has a little cat companion he named Scatticus, which he found in an abandone vault where they ran cruel experiments involving both animals and humans, which Scatticus is the only that remains. The cat, oddly enough, can talk due to a device that is linked both with his collar and his brain, and he's a sassy little bastard.

-Mucky has a love-hate relationship with old, 50s music, which really was another reason why many considered him a weirdo in pre-war times.

-Due to an incredibly strange chance of luck (and possibly genes), Mucky is one of the rare exceptions in which a ghoul could become a super mutant. While exploring a vault to look for equipment he could use in his instruments, the ghoul got ambushed by a pack of irradiated wolves that gave him chase, with one of them alongsides him falling into a vat that was full of an alternate, very rare version of the Forced Evolutionary Virus. From it came crawling away a large, filth covered wolf, the complete contrary of the scrawny ghoul.

Luckily, if you can even say that, once he grew exhausted enough, Mucky reverted back to his ghoul form. However, there is still the chance he can revert back to that hellhound, especially if there's massive amounts of radiation neraby...

-Mucky is originally from Ohio, but due to the fact he spent pretty much of the time out in the open after the war "touring", that gave him a great amount of knowledge regarding the wastelands and the commonwealths he could get in. If you need a trip somewhere, he will gladly take you there. Though, he might ask for something in return...

-Mucky can be pretty skilled with technology, even using pieces of weapons as ways he can improve the sound of his instruments when playing.

-He's a huge menace to both the Enclace and the BoS, especially with the fact his skin and foul stench can corrode metals. Yes, even the one from a power armor.

That's as much as I can name about him, but if you have any questions about Mucky, please ask! I'm pretty new into Fallout, so if I have made any mistakes or it's there anything I could change, please do let me know, cause really, I mostly made this OC for fun.