#so I found the goop that makes you old

[chongoblog]

Beacon Pines spoilers with no context

[delusionalwh6re]

neteyam sully headcanons

summary: how i think neteyam would be in a relationship

warnings: 🔞 this contains sfw AND nsfw content, you’re responsible for what you consume on the internet.

he’s aged up too before some of yall even start.

im sorry but these have to be literal facts…

- protective

THIS MAN IS SO PROTECTIVE OVER YOU

especially if you’re a human, be ready for him to just randomly pick you up or hold onto you like you’re a child

even when you’re na’vi and can easily stand up for yourself he doesn’t give a singular fuck

he will not hesitate to grab onto your waist and guide you where ever you need to go

“neteyam im fine”

“oh yes you are” he smirked at you

you couldn’t help but laugh at your man “will you please let me go? im literally just going to get water..”

“i know but i can’t let anything to my cute little sugar plum” he replied playfully

you pursed your lips and stared at him

“never say that shit again”

when he’s “jealous”

- he has that stern tone WHEWWW 🫦

- like if he tells u to do something he expects you to do it…

- and if you’re the “boy you not my daddy” typa girl, oh trust and believe all of that will change

“i don’t want you talking to him”

“we’re just friends neteyam”

“i don’t care, he’s obviously trying to court you”

“and who are you to tell me who i can’t be friends with? you’re not in control over me” you rolled your eyes

“not how it was last night” he crossed his arms

were you silent or silenced? 😕

-honestly i don’t think he’s the super jealous type

-like he’s not finna go bat shit crazy when he knows he has yo ass locked down yk?

-he’s definitely not afraid to put a mf in their place when they get outta line tho

his confidence 😍😍

- like i said, he knows he has you locked down

-even before you guys were together he was still confident in himself which is a reason why he got you in the first place

- he’s not the cocky type but he’s the “my girl ain’t leaving me for any of yall bums” type 😭

- he’s never afraid to show you off either

- when i tell you EVERYONE knows, they know..

- so him being confident in himself + your relationship = future marriage

his humor

- im so tired of some of yall trying to make it seem like neteyam is so innocent or has no sense of humor

- unfortunately we didn’t get to see much of him (james check ur walls tonight)

- but i just know this mf was funny and so out of pocket

- it’s always them quiet ones im tellin u 😭

- the two of you would have such a funny and just a fun relationship in general

- especially if both of you have a sense of humor which real bad bitches have

- i just feel like neteyam wouldn’t be with someone “boring” or “dry” you feel me?

- so the two of you have quite the time together

- the things you guys say to each other are so unhinged like…

you watched as neteyam fished

the way his muscles flexed and back tensed up whenever he prepared to catch his pray

you have never been so down bad for a man and you prayed to eywa that she never took him away (well…)

eywa had really blessed you with the most gorgeous man on pandora

‘i just wanna eat him’ you thought

“what are you staring at sevin?” he caught you staring

“have you ever had it sucked from the back?”

“THATS POSSIBLE?”

and

you and neteyam were playing around in the lab

you guys were minding your business until the two of you found this thing called a ‘face mask’

it was a slimy, cold and thick consistency

so the two of you decided to play with it after asking norm for permission

it was a mess at first but the two of you got it eventually…

the two of you had the black goop all over your face and of course the two of you couldn’t take it seriously

“you look like a really old pile of shit” neteyam laughed at your zoned out face

“shut up, you look like a sky person’s soul”

the two of you laughed at each other which made the mask crease but didn’t even care

he smirked and licked his lips “you should put some on your ass”

you smirked back “you should put some on your balls”

“only if you put it on for me” he rubbed your thighs with a goofy smile

“EWWWWWW” you giggled at him

his bond with kids 🥹

- now me personally i don’t fw kids like that it really depends but if neteyam wants to make our own clan im spreading my legs IMMEDIATELY

- you find the way he is with kids so adorable

- it honestly came natural to him since he was basically a third parent to all his siblings

- you would catch him playing with the kids in the village and felt your heart physically warm at the sight

- it lead to you having thoughts

- like how he would be with your own children?

- and when that finally does happen. oh eywa.

- he’s the best father ever

- no matter if you have a daughter or son first he’s so insistent on getting rid of the eldest sibling curse

- he refuses for your children to follow in his unwanted footsteps

- he loves his family and wouldn’t trade them for the world but he definitely wish he had more of a childhood

- this causes the bond with his children to be stronger than ever

- he’s so understanding

- your kids are never afraid to come to him about anything and he always gives them advice

- even when there’s subjects he’s a little uncomfortable with he never pushes his kids away

i want him to be my baby daddy.

when there’s an argument

- every relationship has ups and downs

- yours and neteyam’s had no exceptions

- you usually talk your disagreements out since it’s the mature thing to do but when there’s an argument…

- this actually doesn’t happen too often but when it does the both of you just let out that built up frustration

- it sounds toxic but the two of you actually find it healthy to bump heads every now and then

- the arguments never get physical

- which helps because at the end of the day when the both of you calm down and sit down to get your shit together, it’s so worth it

you made your way back to you and neteyam’s hut after the big fight you two got in this morning

to be honest you were dreading it

you knew you had to face neteyam eventually and running wasn’t the smarted option, you knew he would track you down if he needed to

you audibly sighed before opening the flap

he was sitting in front of the fire and turned his head at the scent of you

“hey” he mumbled while picking on his loincloth

“hi” you gave him an awkward smile

there was a silence growing

“im sorry” you both blurted out at the same time

the two of you softly laughed at that

“come here” he stood up and reached his arms out

you practically ran to your man to hug him tightly before the two of you settled down for the night and never letting each other go

warning 🔞: NSFW content starting below!!

this man’s mouth is FILTHY.

- yall think he’s so innocent huh?

- yeah no thanks im not buying that shit

- when he has you pinned down underneath him all that goes out the door!!

- he’ll literally be pounding yo shit while you grip onto him for dear life and this mf doesn’t make it any better

“pussy so good” he grunted in your ear

honestly you didn’t even hear him, it felt so good that you literally lost your common sense

“mhm neteyam” was the only thing you could moan out

“fuck” he let out a long moan as his thrusts started to get sloppier which meant he was close

your eyes rolled to back of your head and your jaw dropped as he picked up his pace

- all you could hear was

“i could stay inside of you forever”

“cum on this dick”

“you can take it”

“we’re not stopping i hope you know that”

“wake up for me baby so you can see me cum all inside you”

“i want you bent over after this im not done”

“you’re so pretty fucked out it’s almost funny”

UM HELLO???

there’s dirtier things than that but you guys can use your imagination.. 😏

- even outside of the bedroom this man has ZERO shame

- like if some goofy ass nigga was trying to holla at you neteyam is NOT with it

- this fool will be all up in neteyam’s face talkin about some “just wait until i have y/n, she’s gonna be all mine mwahahaha”

- all neteyam had to do was hit him with the

“well when you do let me know how my dick tastes on both of her lips”

- safe to say that wannabe kept his distance…

he’s a certified pussy devouring god.

- he don’t care whenever or wherever it is

- if he wants to eat he’s gonna EAT.

- he’ll put you on the ground, rock, sand, table, chair, ceiling, bed, mat, against the door, air, upside down, on the side, bent over, in a handstand, in a split, etc

- he does NAWT care. like at all.

- he loves eating that wap

- he loves the taste and scent of you

- like it’s an actual addiction

- he loves giving and receiving

- definitely giving more tho

- the way you squirm around, grip his hair and let out those sexy moans you do every time he hits that spot

-there’s literally been times when he came untouched to just the sound of you while eating you out…

- he doesn’t give a fuck how many times you cum, if he’s not covered in your juices then he’s not done

if there was a reward for best dick ever neteyam easily got that

- now let’s be honest… are we shocked?

- nope! #bbc

- like everything else in his life that dick game is top tier

- he just KNOWS what to do with it

- you never worry about him not hitting those spots because he does every single time 😫

- he can’t help but laugh at how you act on it too

- the way you let out a breathy moan as he slides into you

- the way you throw your head back when he throws your leg over his shoulder to thrust deeper inside you

- the way you had tears streaming down your face when riding him because he felt so much bigger and deeper in that position

- the way you throw your hand behind you when he’s blowing your back out to get him to slow down only for him to slap your hand away

- yall know that audio that says “dear diary, it’s now day 16 without dick and im starting to lose hearing in my left eye and taste in my right”

- that’s how you feel every time you and neteyam spend sexual time apart

- yeah that dick is powerful.

the aftercare. omfg HIS aftercare.

- after neteyam rearranges all of your insides he immediately tends to you

- he basically teleports to get a wet towel to gently clean you up with

- he’s placing kisses all over your ENTIRE body

- he never shys away with showing you affection in or out of the bedroom and now is one of those times

- he’s nonstop telling you “i love you” “you’re so perfect” “my beautiful girl”

-now you know it’s the bare minimum BUT wait hear me out!

- he makes it feel like HEAVEN

- he massages parts of your body while soothing you in a calm tone

- “you did so good for me” “took me so well mama”

- like boy stop before we go for round 69

- you cry almost every time he lets you know how special you are to him

- he literally thanks you for giving your body to him because you have no obligation to do that and he feels lucky every time you open up for him

your head hit the makeshift pillow underneath you with a soft thud as you let out a moan of exhaustion

“that was so” you stopped mid sentence to gather your breath

you heard neteyam chuckle at you. you turned your head with a soft smile to look at him

“that good huh?” he smirked positioning himself to hold you

“yes” you blushed hiding your head in his chest

he smirked “I can tell, i got you shaking like crazy”

you lifted your head up to glare at him “alright now not too much..”

he laughed at you as always before kissing your head and laying you back down on his chest. the two of you just soaked in each other’s presence. one of the favorite parts of your day.

actually it was your favorite

as you listened to his heart beat, you felt it pick up like he was thinking about something to make his heart race

you traced hearts on his chest “you okay love?”

“yeah” he said after a while

“don’t lie to me” you slid your hand up and down his abs

he stiffened as you did that before speaking up

“i think i just fell more in love with you”

you froze

“no, i know i just fell more in love with you”

you lifted your head up to understand what he was talking about

“i just fell more in love with you too” you smiled

he smiled “you don’t understand how perfect you are. i swear i want this forever. you always make me feel at home, you are my home. you’re the reason my heart keeps beating. i couldn’t have asked eywa for a better woman. honestly i didn’t even have to ask, she just sent you to me. which is how i know we’re meant to be”

a tear fell down your eye as he moved the hair from out of your face

you jumped up to put your entire body over him

he let out a short laugh as he happily opened his arms for you to take you in. the two of you made eye contact

the type of eye contact that can make you fall in love all over again

“i love you” he gave you the most cutest face ever

“i love you more” your pupils dilated

that’s when a hard smack land on your ass

“OH HELL NAH”

“we talked about that”

you rolled your eyes

“roll em again and see what happens” he tightened his grip on your hips

“what are you gonna do?” you teased

“give you something that will really make your eyes roll back”

you giggled and placed kisses all over his face

“seriously though, i love you more”

“y/n stop fucking playing with me”

“what did i do?”

“you know what, i love YOU more”

“no”

“yes”

“NO”

“i can do this all night baby”

- and the two of you went back and forth for a while before you eventually gave up realizing neteyam wasn’t gonna let it go

- you let him think he was right even though you knew the truth

- men smh

- you both went to sleep cuddling and kissing all throughout the night

- you couldn’t have asked for a man better than neteyam sully because there simply wasn’t one.

THATS MY MANNNNNNNNNNN

okay so i thought this was a pretty cute and decent place to stop 🥹

in my next life i will be neteyam’s wife. idc what it takes.

these are some of MY headcanons, you don’t have to agree! but i would like to hear some of yours

should i do lo’ak next? 😜

love, liana

[marclef]

a special gift for you guys, for this very important Fake Peppino Friday.... after a week of near-continuous work, i present to you the biggest mess i've posted so far to tumblr:

The Fake Peppino Headcanon/Biology/Anatomy/Whatever the heck this is Post

really just a bunch of headcanons, ideas, and other stuff i've complied together for Fake Peppino, illustrated to the best of my ability. i hope you enjoy! ✨✨✨

(caution: lots of text and assorted Frogs up ahead)

now.... who's ready for walls of text and drawings?

Fake Peppino is a homunculus, made in the shape of Peppino by Pizzahead. He's much taller than the real Peppino, 8 feet tall compared to Peppino's 5 1/2 feet. He was created using the DNA from Peppino (either skin or hair cells), old pizza, and frogs (think Jurassic Park). His entire body, including the hat and "clothes", is comprised of a strange goop, with no flesh organs or bones, though certain areas are made out of specialized goo, meant for an intended purpose.

He can stretch his body to inhuman lengths, though he usually only does this with his legs, mouth, tongue, and arms. His goopy body is extremely strong, able to withstand tearing and most puncture wounds. Attacks from knives or similar weapons are pointless, as it doesn't really harm him, and will likely just lead to him absorbing the knife into himself and retaliating. However, repeated attacks, especially physical blows, can tire him out, and explosives can harm him, splitting his body into pieces if particularly strong. This doesn't kill him, though, since he can reform his body.

If threatened, or trying to get into a tight spot, Fake Peppino can deform his body into a blob-like mass, allowing him to flee, squeeze into small areas, or melt into the floors/walls. He usually keeps his eyes and brain intact, to see his surroundings and act accordingly. The rest of his body, despite deforming and becoming mushy, can still function, meaning he could still eat in this form if he wanted to. He finds tights spaces comfortable, and can often be found squeezed into unlikely places, such as small containers, trash cans, and cabinets.

If greatly threatened, though, or sufficiently angered, Fake Peppino can pool all of the energy into his body into growing larger, by rapidly burning energy into making more goop/cells. This is very tiring, generally only used as a last resort. The process generally makes his head and body much larger, with his limbs, as well as eyes/brain, staying mostly the same size. He is dumber in this state, with all energy and thought going into eliminating the target, something that Fake Peppino doesn't like. He avoids lashing out like this unless he absolutely needs to.

Despite his frog DNA, Fake Peppino doesn't do well with water or other similar liquids. Thanks to his sturdy stomach walls, he can drink most liquids just fine, even fluids that would be dangerous to humans. It's his outside "skin" that's the problem, since it can't absorb liquid properly. Prolonged contact with water or other liquid will quickly cause him to deform, unable to keep his humanoid form, until he's sufficiently dried off/absorbed the liquid properly. He greatly dislikes being wet because of this, and will go to great lengths to avoid it. Warmer liquids are slightly more tolerable, being much more comfortable, so warm, bubbly baths are welcome.

The brain and eyes are connected directly, with the brain protected by Fake's squishy head, and the eyes popping out the widened eye sockets. The brain is made of very specialized goop, and works very similarly to a human brain, sending signals to all parts of Fake Peppino's body.

However, despite it being the central control center of his body, smaller bits of brain cell goop are distributed through the rest of his body, allowing him to control other parts separately. So, even if parts of him are detached or otherwise removed, he can still control them, for a time. After some time, these parts die off though, losing control and deforming into inert goop. He mainly uses this ability to split "clones" off of himself, controlling them to attack perceived threats.

Being made of goop, Fake's brain can withstand damage a normal brain can't, but he still prefers to keep it protected underneath his head. It dries out a bit in the open, too, which he finds uncomfortable.

Fake Peppino's eyes are very strong. Though he's often seen with a cross-eyed look to him, he's constantly watching his surroundings, even if it doesn't seem it. He has excellent night vision, often using this ability to easily stalk and sneak up on prey in the dark without being spotted.

He doesn't need to blink, but he still closes his eyes to sleep, when he's very happy, or during certain actions, such as swallowing. His eyes are one of the most vulnerable parts of his body, though, and attacking them would be a way to easily disorient him.

Fake Peppino's sense of smell is also impressive, being able to smell things long before he sees them. He uses this ability to easily find food, prey, or simply something he wants. The mustache under his nose (which, same as his "hair", is also made of goop) is sensitive, and he doesn't like others touching it.

Fake Peppino often sniffs things he's interested in, including strangers, to try to get a sense for them. He never forgets a particular smell, which makes it easy to tell if a familiar person is nearby. He often sniffs others while holding them or being given attention, likely as a form of interaction. Plus, he just thinks most others smell nice.

Despite, like the rest of him, being made of goop, Fake Peppino's teeth can harden to be extremely tough. They soften if he needs them to, such as when he deforms. His bite force is very, very strong, comparable to a hippo's bite. He doesn't chew his food too often, though, and only really chews up food he finds particularly tasty, such as pizza. His frog-like instinct usually compels him to swallow most foods whole. His teeth are more often used to grip things, such as prey items, or to carry things around. He enjoys carrying things he likes around, and will carry smaller friends around gently with his mouth.

The stretchiest part of Fake Peppino's body is his tongue, which can stretch to several times his body length. It is very sticky, coated with a clear, saliva-like goop that fills the inside of his mouth as well. Like a frog, he uses it to grab onto and eat food from afar, or to grab items he doesn't feel like using his arms to. It's very strong, and can drag even very heavy objects. The tongue's extreme flexibility allows him to reach it nearly anywhere, even down his own throat if he really wanted.

Usually, Fake Peppino uses his tongue to snatch fleeing prey items, and he can wrap it around their body to make them easier to eat. He often leaves his tongue dangling slightly out of his mouth, due to its length, but also making it easy to strike with if needed.

Fake Peppino's "stomach" is a very special case. It functions like both an organic stomach, and similarly to a lung as well, constantly moving by pushing air in and out of himself. He can use this to inflate his body, making himself bigger for intimidation (like some frogs do), or to shrink himself down by releasing all air from himself; this is generally used if a prey item is being uncooperative, to cause them to suffocate. To help keep live prey in place as well, he's able to close off his throat with a mass of goop, preventing escape.

The constant movement of the stomach makes digesting meals easier, allowing them to be coated by a specialized goop that absorbs and dissolves what it covers, like stomach acids. Fake Peppino's stomach can digest almost everything, aside from very tough materials, such as most metals, very solid plastics, tough minerals (like rocks), and bones. Anything he can't digest, he simply spits up eventually, generally in a place it can be disposed of, such as the trash.

His stomach is very sturdy and stretchy, able to withstand almost anything, and can stretch as much as needed to fit what's inside. As such, there's not much of a limit to how much Fake Peppino can eat. Eating too much makes him sluggish, though, as his body tries to process it all. Fake Peppino is most content with a reasonably-full stomach, and is generally quite calm and relaxed after a large meal. Belly rubs at this point are greatly appreciated.

If needed to, he can reach his arms back into his own throat, to grab something from inside of his stomach. He doesn't do it often, due to most things he eats being digestible, making carrying stuff around in there fairly pointless. This is only ever really the case if it's something too difficult to spit up, or something that wasn't supposed to be eaten in the first place.

There is no further digestive system, however; all food eaten is 100% absorbed in the stomach. Everything he eats is converted into more goop like him, leaving no trace behind, unless it is undigestible. Bones from eaten prey such as rats get thrown out, or disposed of in an appropriate spot.

and... though I didn't get to drawing them, here's a couple extra unsorted headcanons/dumb little tidbits I just felt like sharing!

He makes lots of strange sounds, communicating more through groans and frog-like croaks than trying to speak. He CAN talk, but not well, mostly in broken, short sentences, and usually speaks "backwards". He can understand others just fine, though he struggles with especially long and complicated words. The sounds he makes when not talking are generally unintelligable, but his mood and tone can indicate how he feels. He uses the ability to inflate his body to produce very loud, aggressive sounds when trying to ward off threats.

His gooey body is what allows him to cling to walls and ceilings with ease. He sticks to walls while trying to stalk prey, or just to play around with friends. Though, in some cases, he'll cling against the walls or ceiling if frightened, finding them a safe vantage point. If you're in the dark and feel something creeping its way towards you, it's likely Fake Peppino, silently stalking you from the walls.

Despite his inhuman traits, Fake Peppino generally doesn't like the idea of eating humans. He still sees himself as somewhat human from his time spent believing he was the real Peppino. Attacking or eating things he doesn't see as prey is kept as a last resort, or if he's extremely angered. As of now in my canon/AU, there is only one person Fake Peppino has killed in this way. He didn't like the taste.

[revelboo]

Your writing is phenomenal! The way you portray each character and expand on their personalities within the Transformers universe has me hooked from the first word. I am so glad you made a blog and thank you so much for sharing your works with us!!! I’m ashamed to admit how often I come back to check and see if anything new has been posted; and I just found your blog maybe two days ago. Thank you again for writing for us all!!!!!!

Thank you for reading my silliness!

Last Night Pt 5

Bumblebee x Reader

• Little steps forward, day by day. Figuring out that questions about your day are safe. About you, less so. Wanting to ask about everything, but trying so hard to not remind you that you’re here against your will, because it upsets you. And that upsets him. But you don’t flinch away if he brushes a servo against your shoulder or lightly touches the back of your hand to get your attention anymore. Little steps. “There are other humans here, right?” You ask him and he hesitates in scrolling through topographical maps. It’s not exactly a secret, though, so he nods. “Are we allowed to see each other?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, you hesitantly walk closer across the top of his desk and lay your little hands on his arm. Willingly reaching out to him for the first time as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Please?”

• Hands resting on his arm, it’s a surprise how warm he is under your palms. And he’s just staring at your hands on him, lips parted like you’ve shocked him. “I can ask,” he finally says, optics shifting to your face. Because even talking to strangers would be better than sitting here alone when he’s doing whatever secret alien things he does during the day. He’d volunteered that he was a scout, so you assume he explores. Maybe makes maps? You honestly have no idea. “Do you know what this is?” He asks and you lean against his arm to see the data pad screen.

• Freezing as you almost drape yourself across his arm, he’s afraid to move in case you realize what you’re doing and stop. It’s the most contact you’ve allowed so far and he can feel you breathing against him, the beat of your heart and your warmth. “Is that the old mine?” You ask, leveraging yourself even further on him to reach for the screen. Mimicking the gesture he uses to enlarge the image and he’s surprised you’ve been paying that much attention to him while he works. “It is. There was some sort of disaster years ago. I think they tapped into natural gas or something and blew themselves up.” Your little head turns to look up at him questioning, before you inhale, face reddening and slide off of him as if you’d just noticed what you were doing. How you were sprawled on him.

• “Energon,” he mutters as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, face hot because you were draped across his arm, butt in the air to reach the data pad screen. It’s not like he cares or is the least bit interested, but still. “We’ve been picking up traces, but haven’t been able to pin it down. But raw energon is highly reactive,” he pushes up from his desk, smacking the data pad against his palm as he paces. Energon is that glowing goop he drinks, but why would it be on Earth? You’ve never even heard of it before him. There’s no time to try to scurry away as he turns and picks you up in his hand and lifts you, doing a nauseating little twirl and laughing like an excited kid. Dizzy, you fall on your butt when he sets you back on your feet, but he’s already headed for the door, calling out over his shoulder that’ll he be back as you try to figure out what that was and why his excitement spreads warm through you, a smile pulling at your lips.

Previous

[stellocchia]

I absolutely adore the fanon Nightmare Gang found family stuff but... If one of these suckers gets sick they're gonna struggle.

Like, okay, I don't think Nightmare can reasonably get sick. It would make no sense for any virus, bacteria, or parasite to have evolved to survive and thrive in a goop that literally only he posses. He's fine.

But he's also gonna be completely useless when it comes to looking after his team. He would fall for the good old paranoia-inducing mistake of googling the symptoms and finding only death-sentences. And then he's just gonna be miserable and mope until his boys are better.

Killer meanwhile, would logically get sick, but also he would definitely hide it. Like, he was still conditioned by Chara to be a killing machine, no way my guy would just share such a big vulnerability. The others would only find out once he's already in really bad shape and most of the time they wouldn't find out at all.

On the other hand, while I imagine he'd be adept at setting broken bones and the general basic field medicine (again, because of his past he probably had to learn the basics to survive and remain functional), his solution to deal with any actual illness would be "just ignore it until it goes away".

I'm pretty sure Horror is technically already dead, so I don't know if he can get sick... Though I'd say probably? I mean, his body doesn't seem all too different from that of other monsters. Regardless, when sick I say he'd go in full survival mode, build a nest somewhere and be completely unapproachable unless you want your hand chewed off.

On the other hand, being the only one with a living brother and with both of them living in really harsh conditions, he probably has had to handle sickness rather often. Of course, with the lack of resources back in his universe, he mostly had to go for the basics, so his solution is a warm broth and some wet pieces of cloth. At most hot water to disinfect wounds. He's still at least doing something.

Cross is basically like Killer. He doesn't want to appear weak (with a father like his I highly doubt weakness was allowed) so he hides any minor sickness. Though I do think he'd tell, like, Horror if things are getting really bad. If anything, ao he doesn't become a burden for the others during missions.

And, again, much like Killer, I think he definitely would know field medicine. He was trained as a Royal Guard after all, they must have taught him things like that. But actual sickness? Yeah, they probably had medics that handled it when it got too severe. He doesn't know jack shit. His solution is just going to Horror and hoping he's got it handled.

Dust would straight up gaslight himself into thinking he's not sick and that's just his body punishing him for his sins. He literally would not believe it's anything else until someone (again, most likely Horror) pointed it out to him.

And the worst part is that, once he knows, there's no fucking way he'd let anyone treat him for it. That self-loathing fucker would rather suffer through it in some pointless attempt at receiving some form of redemption. He's cooked. Horror would need to tie him to the bed just to force him to get some rest.

So, anyway, this is my propaganda to say let's get at least one Sans who is mentally healthy enough and knowledgeable enough to keep these guys from dying in here.

My vote is for Lust Sans. Just because I love him.

Though someone like Color could also unlock some very fun dynamics. And he may actually get Killer to stop hiding his symptoms like an idiot. And perhaps Cross too. Literally, those guys would lie about getting bit in a zombie apocalypse

[icallhimjoey]

massage enthusiast nonnie here!

i requested a massage fic earlier this year which you wrote wonderfully! may we please have a massage fic where the reader is the masseuse?

back at it again with the massages !!!! so, i coupled this with two other requests: one about joe being grumpy and us fixing it, and one about joe being gooey drunk in love with us - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Touch

The huffs and puffs, groans and frustrated sighs coming from the sofa were dramatic enough to make you chuckle to yourself as you took off your make-up in the bathroom.

The sounds of struggle followed by two soft thuds told you Joe had worked his way out of his shoes.

A silence followed. You pried mascara goop from the inner corner of your eyes with careful fingers when you suddenly heard a soft and annoyed, "I'm getting so old," before a louder, "Babe, come listen to this!"

Joe was in a mood.

Had been since dinner. He'd eaten too much too quickly, as had you, and fell into postprandial somnolence, or, you know, a fat after-dinner dip.

Amusement was evident on your face when you stepped into the living room, turning lights off and closing doors behind you as you went.

"This is mad," Joe muttered, and you saw him hunched in a weird position, very slowly moving his elbow up and down, in and out. His eyes found you, face all serious, and he said, "I can hear my bones creak."

You burst into laughter as you walked over, quite honestly excited for an hour or two of sofa time before you'd both roll into bed. Joe was wearing a jumper and, man, this guy in cosy soft fabrics hit different.

"I'm not joking, come, listen,"

You let yourself fall down right next to him and stilled so Joe could show you.

He kept moving his arm in the same way, and, sure enough, you heard very soft squeaking. Sounded a little like someone was polishing glass.

"Does that hurt?"

"No," Joe shrugged, finally moving, grabbing the TV remote and immediately cosying up to you as you reached for a blanket.

"Come here,"

"Oh babe, don't," you flinched whilst settling, startling Joe who was already crabby enough to take everything as a direct personal attack.

His facial expression was nothing short of a shocked frown. Defensive. Cross. A what-have-I-done-now mixed with I-didn't-do-anything sort of look. Angry at even the mere hint of an accusation of hurting you.

"My food baby."

No pressure on the stomach, is what you meant.

Joe huffed, annoyed his arm couldn't go where he wanted it to rest. He tried different spots; laid over your lap – no, around your shoulders – no. He settled for across your boobs, big palm covering one of them.

"Yea?" you questioned, looking down at yourself, unable to keep the smile from your face. "That comfortable for you?"

"No," he muttered, clearling lying, as you felt him sinking into your side more. "But these need safe-keeping, wait– take off your bra, this is an important job. Needs proper doing."

To say Joe helped you struggle out of your bra would be an overstatement. He used a tired arm behind you as you sat up, but didn't really do anything until you pulled your bra from underneath your top.

Before you relaxed back into the sofa, a hand snuck under your top and got back into its previous position.

"How are you so tired?" you commented on the back of a laugh. "You barely did anything at all today..."

You saw Joe's eyes flash up to check the clock before he groaned loudly. It was only just past 9.

"I'm getting old," he complained. "It's no fun. I can no longer have big carb-y meals, my bones make noise now. I don't– mmhm," you shut Joe up by slinking a hand into his hair, giving little scratches behind his ear.

Joe was easy that way. Like a puppy, immediately content when getting scritches.

"What are we watching?" you asked, shifting focus.

You got no answer. Just satisfied hums.

"Hmm?" you asked again, now taking the remote Joe was about to drop to take matters into your own hands.

Joe sighed deeply, murmured, "Mmmh, my eyes are closed, you choose,"

Perfect. You found something quick enough and were quick to also put your other hand to good use. To touch. If anything was going to get Joe out of his solemn mood, it was to touch and to be touched.

"Don't fall asleep on me," you whispered, and only got soft hums in return. "It's only just gone 9, you'll wake up at 4 and won't be able to get back to sleep,"

"But I'm tired," Joe muttered, his full body now sagged into your side, warm hand still cupping a boob. "I told you I am old now. This is what old people do."

"You're 29."

"Exactly."

Joe shifted, getting more comfortable, pressing his face into your arm and nuzzling there before a deep breath crooned on the exhale.

You stayed like that for a little while. Joe on a fast track into dreamland, you with one hand in his hair and the other softly playing with the cable knit on the bit of arm that wasn't hidden underneath your top.

After a bit, his hair distracted you enough to stop paying attention to whatever you'd put on the TV.

You let Joe's hair play between your fingers, felt how it was softer near his scalp, where it held less product, and enjoyed the way the curls sprung back into their curves after you straightened them in your raking.

"Your hair's too short," you knew Joe would barely hear you. "Should let the top grow out again," you used the pads of your fingers to swipe the hair from his forehead and softly pushed it back. Because of the current length, his hair stood up straight and you tried repressing a giggle at how silly it looked.

"Hmmpf," Joe grunted, moved his head slightly. A feeble attempt at stopping you. It was of no use. You kept playing, shaping little strands in whichever way you wanted.

You felt how Joe's fingers twitched under your top. Squeezed you. Made you giggle more and bend to press a kiss into his hair.

You felt it returned on your arm.

You watched TV and absentmindedly played with Joe's hair until you felt yourself starting to drift off as well.

Time for bed.

You moved to sit up and it made Joe slump down the back of the sofa behind you.

"Come on," you had to clear your throat to get the words out normally. "Let's go to bed."

You got struggling groans and a furrowed brow as an answer. You would've said something about it, but usually, this was what you were like. You fell asleep on Joe all the time. He got tasked with getting you from the sofa into bed several times a week, and that was never easy. Real piece of work, you were.

Joe was allowed to act like a stroppy teenager this one time.

You got up and took both his hands in yours to pull him off the sofa. It made Joe find his feet, eyes squinty but open, but he didn't move otherwise. You were tugging on dead weight, he did nothing to help, so you pulled harder, two relaxed hands in your squeezing ones, until you heard a soft pop.

"Ohhh," Joe immediately reacted, sitting up properly now, pain visible on his face.

"My God, was that your shoulder?"

It was. Joe reached for it with his other hand and rotated where it hurt.

"See, I told you. My age it catching up to me."

"Shut up," you smiled, watching Joe yawn and stretch, hearing his spine crack next, and you both laughed as you heard it.

"I'm falling apart."

"Well, come to bed. Fall apart in there, you'll have a soft landing."

You turned the TV off and were already on your way. Joe followed suit, hips stiff, muttering about maybe having to start going to a physiotherapist or a sports masseur. Like he was a pro athlete.

So dramatic.

Before getting into bed, Joe did some old man stretches by his side of the bed just after he took his clothes off, just in his boxers now.

He complained some more. Groaned and huffed and winced until you sighed and said, "You're all mumbles and murmurs, ask what you want like a normal person. You're an adult."

"Mmmbackrub," Joe said under his breath as he let himself fall onto the bed face first right next to you.

"What was that?"

"Want a backrub," Joe said it in such a whiny baby voice, it made you roll your eyes as you saw him tuck his chin in and look up at you, half his face hidden by the pillow.

"Pwease?"

The purest definition of puppy eyes begged you to touch him.

"You," you started, voice loud and as thunderous as you could make it sound whilst you threw the covers back. "Best recognise..." you slung a leg over Joe's bum, "...that you have the most amazing girlfriend..." and you sat down, "...ever!".

You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to heat them up a bit, knowing it wouldn't do enough. They'd still feel cold to Joe's back, but he asked for a backrub and so, he was going to get one.

You were tired, had nearly fallen asleep yourself just mere minutes ago, but you knew Joe'd be out cold within seconds.

Now, it was one thing running your hands through his hair and hearing him hum. It was a whole other thing to run your palms over his back, fingers curled, nails scratching warm soft skin, and to feel him shudder from your touch.

You loved how responsive he was, muscles twitching as you went, voice audible through every exhale in gentle satisfied purrs and buzzes.

There were no knots to be found. Nothing felt hard or strained or tensed or stiff. Solid and firm, yes, but soft, kneadable and pliable under your touch.

You rubbed between his shoulder blades, one hand following the other, stroking upwards several times until you let fingers venture upwards towards his neck before they parted and found both his biceps.

Sometimes you let fingernails scrape a little and got soft moans out of him.

You let your hands follow the lines of his torso, from his wider shoulders down his sides to his slimmer waist and hips. All the way down and then back up again.

It was hardly an actual massage. More just stroking hands, able to apply more pressure when your arms were closer to you because then you could lean into them more. His lower back got the fists that pushed, this upper back soft fingertips that tickled and made him shiver, skin breaking out into goosebumps.

After a while Joe moved his arms down and found your legs to hold onto by his sides, folded his hands over the crease between your thighs and calves, fingers fighting to sneak inbetween.

"Best girl–" Joe cut himself off with a moan that got stuck in his throat, your hands making magic happen, having it dance all across his back. "Most amazing girlfriend."

"Hmmhm," you agreed.

It took maybe five minutes of touching warm skin and letting fingers trail for you to suspect Joe'd fallen asleep.

Good.

You really were an amazing girlfriend. Lulled your mopey boyfriend right to sleep whilst sat on his ass. He was already practically half asleep before you'd even started, but that was easy to ignore.

You were about to climb off and roll onto your half of the bed when you felt Joe's hands tighten where they had a hold on you still.

"Lay down," Joe said, barely even a whisper, the least amount of effort put into shaping the words.

"Huh?"

"On top,"

You looked down at the back of his head, face squished into his pillow and hated how, even now in this state, he was able to make everything inside your chest swell until it hurt.

Grinning like an idiot, you reached behind you to find the covers to pull over your shoulders. The delay in doing what Joe asked of you got you a little impatient wiggle from his hips that made you huff a laugh as you lowered yourself down and draped yourself over him.

You shifted and shimmied until you were comfortable, sneaking an arm around, finding warmth in the gap below his neck.

Joe was warm, unwound, and full of sleep. Wanted your weight on top of him to fully drift off.

If being moody and irritable and grouchy ended with Joe wanting to just every inch of you all over every inch of him, he could be crabby and bad-tempered and tetchy with your full permission.

All you had to do was touch.

Your touch always fixed it.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelybluenesss, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[yanderes-galore]

yandere zombie John hcs?

Here's icky zombie man, hope you love him because he loves you.

Yandere! Zombie! John Marston Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Slight gore/blood, Possessive/Protective behavior, Murder, Forced companionship/relationship.

Honestly, this could go one of two ways.

You knew John back in RDR2 and met him again during this outbreak, unfortunately he's infected.

That, or, you have never met this man in your life and now you have a zombie following you around.

What's even worse is the fact John isn't entirely mute as a zombie.

Most of the others have the benefit of being mute when they turn.

John? Nah, with him you get what sounds like the equivalent to the screams of the damned.

At least... That's according to his 'Undead Cowboy' outfit.

John failed to survive this outbreak and now he's left to shamble through the west with seemingly no direction.

It could be interesting that he found you and recognized you as an old member of the gang...

That or he just found a human he could get attached to, following them around like some lost puppy.

It doesn't matter how you meet him, you nearly have a heart attack regardless.

I like to think you're helping out a settlement or looting some abandoned coach... Only to turn and see John staring you down with glazed over eyes... pardon, eye.

John's lost an eye, his lips have rotted away, and he has a horrid green complexion to his skin.

His clothes are tattered and bloody... yet he seems oddly docile.

Knowing you can't afford to waste bullets or fire on a zombie such as him, you keep your eye on him and ignore him.

Hopefully he just wanders off... even he just seems to stare at you.

I like to think John is partially blind, too.

His sight is rotting away so he can't entirely see you.

But he does know you're there.

You only ever run when he makes an attempt to come closer, making a raspy yet loud noise as if trying to call to you.

It's then, regardless of if he's an old friend or not, you ditch.

You leave so fast when John tries to shamble after you.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time you see John.

You see John plenty after this, actually.

While his face is mostly rotted, it appears John can still smell you to a degree.

It's small but... he can sense you.

The good news for you is he's rather blind and can't smell all that much.

If you really wanted to... you could probably keep him around as a pet in a way?

You will eventually learn he's docile only towards you and probably use it to your advantage.

Originally you think he's just docile because he's weakened.

Although... It appears your new zombie companion has other motives.

John seems to listen when you talk to him.

Although when he starts trying to talk to you... You quickly shush him.

He's so loud and it's hard to understand him.

You're thankful you have gloves... whenever John tries to talk to you just, hold his jaw closed.

Which then leads to John making upset grumbles.

John isn't as affectionate as zombies like Sean.

He mostly respects your space and just likes to stumble around you.

Before you took him as a companion, John would stand at a distance from wherever you're staying.

He's outside abandoned cabin windows, just beyond your tent...

The weirdest thing is you've noticed he can use firearms... somewhat.

While John can indeed pounce and bite like other undead creatures...

One time you were in danger, disarmed in an attack.

Then John shot one of your handguns at a zombie, before gesturing for you to light it on fire.

It... surprises you that he's retained basic survival skills.

He isn't entirely a feral beast.

This event may actually be the one that makes you keep him.

Much to his pleasure.

John is actually aware of being dead.

This is no doubt one of the reasons he isn't affectionate towards his obsession.

He is completely aware that you'd find that weird.

Especially since he keeps gooping everywhere....

John retains quite a bit of humanity as a zombie.

He doesn't particularly like indulging in human meat.

When you offer him the corpses of bandits, part of him yearns for it...

Although he ends up just stealing animal meat or something.

He... doesn't want to scare you.

In a strange way John cares for you and despises the idea of harming you.

He's less of a guard dog and more of a bodyguard since he lacks a feral demeanor.

Eventually you can make out basic responses in his rotting voice.

Things like 'Hi', 'Thanks', 'Yes', 'No'...

All very basic communication but it's something.

One time you could even make out a 'Sorry...' when he spooked you.

Many find it strange and odd you managed to tame a zombie.

John makes no effort to attack you, following you the best he can.

It's not like you need a lead or anything.

The one issue is horses...

You have to find a wagon or something to put on your horse in order to have John stick with you.

John's only ever hostile towards threats.

Other zombies, violent humans...

Survivors just trying to survive are spared by John.

You often look away when John attacks people....

He doesn't like eating people... but manages it because sometimes he has to.

You try desperately to ignore the sickening tearing and squelching noises made... along with the screaming....

John's mostly protective, yet he can be possessive too.

He hovers around you, 'watches' your every move...

He never wants to leave you.

You could easily get rid of him, yes.

But he's also your best weapon in this environment.

Having a clingy zombie is a small price to pay for safety, right?

For the most part, John is just overly protective.

He's possessive if people get too close.

Although... let's be honest... who's getting close to the person with the zombie following you around?

John's just about your only companion...

He'll be yours until you die... Even then, he'll still have you for as long as your body's still functioning after death.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Also I totally forgot about this until I saw something on FB but…

Ryan and Blake had a plantation wedding in South Carolina way back in 2012 when it was cool and chic to do that. The old slave cabins were even part of some of their photos. 🤦‍♀️

And remember when Blake tried to launch her own form of Goop? I think she called it Preserve, something uppity like that. Anyway, the lifestyle brand had a newsletter that she called…wait for it: Allure of the Antebellum, in which she essentially romanticized female slave owners. Here’s a good recap from Vox:

🤦‍♀️ 🤦‍♀️

So people immediately started calling Blake out for her casual racism and she shut down Preserve not much longer after citing lack of interest (because her products were ridiculously overpriced…sound familiar?) but an ad analysis brand found that Blake lost her audience because she was so tone-deaf in that newsletter. (And also just last year, in 2023, Blake made comments loaning about how “hurtful press coverage” made her shut down her company. Jeez, it’s like looking in a crystal ball.)

Anyway, she and Ryan were able to sweep this under the rug for a lil bit. Till Ryan made his own tone-deaf comments about Black Panther, something to the effect of “congrats on being the first blockbuster with a Black superhero” and got slammed for it on Twitter with a bunch of people calling him out for having had a plantation wedding.

So then fast forward 2 years. It’s the summer of George Floyd protests and privilege (or the lack thereof) is being reckoned with. In May 2020, they make a $20,000 donation to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, along with a statement saying "We're ashamed that in the past we've allowed ourselves to be uninformed about how deeply rooted systemic racism is.”

But they get dragged for filth about having a plantation wedding and finally, three months later in August, Ryan issued a formal apology saying:“It’s something we’ll always be deeply and unreservedly sorry for. It’s impossible to reconcile. What we saw at the time was a wedding venue on Pinterest. What we saw after was a place built upon devastating tragedy.” He then went on to say they got married again at home some years later because “shame works in weird ways.” 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I don’t know. Here’s a thought. Maybe if you’re planning a wedding whose photos you’re going to sell to magazines later, maaaaaybe you should’ve done a tour of the place you found on Pinterest to see the warts they don’t talk about on social media before committing. Just a bit of advice for next time, Ryan.

So yeah. This has been, I’m sure, a great few days for Ryan and Blake, with all this dirt coming up.

All because Blake decided to make her movie’s promo tour Barbie 2.0. You know, I saw a thing on social media this afternoon that she and her squad were telling people to have a girl’s night out to see the movie and dress up in florals and bring flowers to share like they’re Taylor Swift friendship bracelets. 🤦‍♀️ 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

And this is on top of Colleen Hoover deciding to make a coloring book companion for her novel. A coloring book, y’all. Thankfully she listened to the backlash and canceled it.

Also, putting a tag on these posts now so if anyone is uninterested, you can block and mute it.

[goopst4r]

WELCOME TO MY PAGE !

Hello wonderful people! Thanks for stopping by. I hope that during your look around on this page that you can find something you like. And if not, then I hope you find something that does :]

BASIC INFO:

So, first of all my name is Goop. I’m a 16 year old nerd that’s been into Homestuck for the short span of 4-5 years. For a while now, I’ve founded myself fixated on the story, its characters, and the way Homestuck’s world operates.

And I hope by using Tumblr, perhaps I could find individuals with the same fixation.. 😈 . And, I hope maybe in the future, others as well. But what will they probably all have in common? They’re all from the realm (or some distant one) of Homestuck!

WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR STINKY BLOG?

Simply put, I’m using this blog as a place to cram ALL of the gross yucky oc stuff into.

BUTTT on a more elegant note, I’m hoping that through this blog I can create a safe space for people that want a place to ramble about their ocs as well!

I have many plans for this blog, but I also know that some of these plans might take a very long time for me to accomplish.

More importantly, I want to make this blog to help find people like me that are practically EXPLODING with love for their creations. This is a safe place to share what you love! YELL IT AT MY FACE! DEMAND ME TO DRAW YOUR OCS! HECK, SPAM ME IN DMS FOR ALL I CARE!! If you need an outlet to talk about oc stuff, then I’ll happily be your guy.

OKAY OKAY BUDDY. WHAT ELSE DO YOU GOT?

Jeez. Alright. So, if you’ve made it this far; you might be wondering about what content I’ll be posting on here. Most of the time, (if you can’t tell) I’m a HUGGEEE yapper. But, content wise, I’m planning on posting art of my ocs. For example, concept art, character references, sprite edits, etc. I’m ALSO going to be drawing art of other people’s ocs.

I do it for free, so if you’d like your homestuck oc (or just your oc) to be draw by someone then just make a request in my inbox!

There might be some stuff on here I might post that won’t make absolutely ANY sense. But, personally, I believe that’s what makes things all the more fun :]

So maybe, if you would like to, you could watch me go down this little rabbit hole of discovery by following my page! I want to be able to share my art, my stories, and so much more with you guys!

I hope that you’ll give me a chance.

- 2024

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 13

Author's Note: It's been an intense week for me, my loves, (I quit my job of 9 years!) so this was severely delayed, but here you are!

Description: You're forced to make a really tough decision, and as the war rages, you finally realize what it's gonna take to win.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Angst. Severe injuries. Word Count: 6427 Author's Masterlist

   You’re not quite sure how Simon’s managing to change the oceans so quickly, unless he’s concentrating all his efforts solely on the Atlantic, not trying to expand in all directions at once. Still, there is a lot of ocean to get through, and he’s advancing terrifyingly fast, turning thousands of square meters of the water into the same goop you saw in the Mexican Gulf, every few seconds.

   This is what allows him to stay at the front of his army, riding a bizarre wave of dead things at the head of his legion, while Oberyn circles above, keeping just under the shadow of the cloud, as if itching to reach new land to destroy.    Seeing him sends shards of glass through your heart. He’s not a spirit, which means your light won’t be able to save him, and you have to be prepared to kill him if you wanna win this war. There’s no other way this ends.

   But no matter how badly changed he is, you still see your beloved prince when you look at him. Your heart won’t stop choosing to see the love he gave you. It just won’t.    His gift will live on in you for as long as you survive this world, and in Day for the rest of all time, which is the only comfort you can find while you stand there in front of the now once more glowing lighthouse, waiting for the storm to hit.

   He is lost. But not gone. You can still save one small part of him.

   The cloud reaches over your heads just as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, no doubt a precisely calculated time-plan on Simon’s part, but the dragon pulls back then, remaining above the mass of the army as the gunk which replaces the sea makes landfall.    You guess that he’s being held back so he won’t kill too many people before they can be converted and added to the ranks, but it makes no difference as the island itself rejects their arrival.

   It’s more than a little satisfying to see the Darkling literally fall over when his wave of death is brought to an abrupt stop, as if hitting a wall, once it tries to spill over land.    You can’t help but grin smugly at him when he glares at you while getting back up, which of course, only further angers him.    But there’s no use. The light holds.

   “That’s a neat little trick, Lux. But you won’t keep me out forever,” he growls, and the slight tone of incredulity in his voice tells you this is something he hadn’t anticipated.

   Which must mean your spirit has never managed something like this before.

   “I thought you were the new and improved dark one. The best one ever,” you taunt, feeling a tad superior to have finally found an angle he can’t immediately break through. “I thought you knew all my tricks and had already figured out how to counter them.”

   “Like I said, it’s just a matter of time.”

   You refrain from replying that you can reach around the entire world like this, since angering him further isn’t gonna do you any favors.    Then Oberyn’s flame suddenly drops on you from above. As if spewed from one of those airplanes with water-tanks, used to combat wildfires, it cascades over the entire western coastline.    The dragon is sick of waiting for his cue, it seems.

   You can protect the island from the dark forces, which means he can’t land or swipe at people or animals on the ground, but his fire is just fire. Neither belonging to light nor darkness.    The people aren’t frightened of it, so they just stand there as it hits them, melting their bodies in mere seconds.

   If you don’t do something, the entire island will be destroyed. But the only thing you can do is try to kill the dragon.    The thought fills you with pain and sorrow, and Simon immediately senses it.

   “Poor little Boo. How awful it must be to know you have to kill your lover if you want to save these pitiful people.”

   You can feel him prodding at your mind, trying to slip past the light so he can disrupt your power, but you’ve been down this road before and you’re still immune to him.    Flooding your mind with all the happy memories, all the curious conversations in the beginning of your time at the castle, the immediate connection you’d felt with Oberyn and how it had eventually blossomed into love, you shove Simon out of your being with such force that it once again unbalances him.

   And when the dragon lines up for his next run, you use your connection to all the people around you to increase the strength of your beam, before unleashing it from your chest.    It hits him at the base of his throat before he veers off, but you maintain the beam, chasing after him until you’ve hit him again, leaving a glowing trail along his spine.    He crashes somewhere to the northwest, and the sea of malice swallows him whole.

   It’ll heal him, you know it will. He isn’t nearly damaged enough to be out of the game, but it gives you a while to think. And what you think is that you can’t fight a war by being only defensive.    Your enemy can and will wait practically forever for your barriers to fall. His army isn’t dependent on food and water to survive, whereas yours is.

   The only offensive measure in your arsenal is your light-beam but it won’t be enough to decimate Simon’s forces. You need to find a way to put a weapon in the hands of every living thing you’re connected to. But how?    While you’re working that problem, the Darkling continues to let his evil spread through the ocean, killing millions of water-dwelling creatures in the process, and when you see the black goo travel past the island, you suddenly wonder why your light hasn’t seemed to reach the underwater population at all.

   Reaching out towards Europe, you try to feel if your powers seem to have reached into the landlocked rivers and lakes, but the only answer you find is no.    Which means, given time, all water on the planet will eventually be infected and undrinkable, killing everything no matter how much light you try and infuse things with.    If you can’t find a way to protect the water, you’ll lose.

   You can’t see Caelum anywhere, so you have to assume she’s hiding and waiting for her moment to strike. But you’re also highly aware the other spirits are absent as well, meaning Simon knows you can restore them and is keeping them out of your reach.    Fuck!    You need more time. There are too many unanswered questions.

   Then something unexpected happens. A person on the beach below you loses his light, and the darkness instantly swallows him through the gap in your armor, giving it a foothold on the island. It can’t spread any further unless more people give in to it, but it still worries you.    The dark one must be whispering to them, reaching into their minds just like he tried to do with you and just like you expected him to. But you didn’t expect him to succeed in persuading anyone so quickly. It’s only been minutes…

   One problem at a time, that’s as much as you can work on, and right now, weapons take priority. You need a way to distribute light through something other than yourself.    Another person falls, further inland, leaving a second beast in her place. It writhes and screeches, clawing at the invisible barriers which contain it, already hungry. Desperate to consume.

   Consume… wait, that’s it!    Using your hand, you shoot a highly concentrated beam at the newly formed creature down on the beach, turning him into glowing dust. Your light has now consumed and transformed him, just like the darkness does to the living. Except the dust he becomes also becomes a part of you, because it’s light.

   Out of seemingly nowhere, Caelum suddenly swoops down over you, heading straight for the glowing dust and then beating her wings against it, sending it flying off over the blackened sea.    Taking the opportunity given, you attempt to amplify the light of those little specks as they disperse, and it works.

   Like fireworks, each and every particulate becomes a sizzling little bomb, which when it hits a creature of the dark, multiplies and creates a chain reaction which kills thousands in mere seconds.    Simon manages to stop its rampant progression by throwing masses of thick vines in its path, essentially drowning the fireworks. But this time, you’re the one who can sense his fear growing, because this is an effective weapon, and one he won’t be able to wait out or prevent.

   There’s no reason to hold back, so as soon as the first volley is extinguished, you launch a second one, and Caelum is right there, helping you disperse it with her microbursts of powerful winds. This time, you use both hands separately and aim your beam along as much of the front lines of the dark army as you can endure, before your hands are once again charred.    But it pays off. The chain reaction which follows is massive, destroying at least a tenth of Simon’s army before he can halt it.

   Then, just as the battlefield grows louder with the shrieks of anger from the decimated forces, there’s a rumble from below the semi-solid surface of the black ooze, and then Oberyn comes thrashing out of it.    It holds him back, weighing him down with its oily muck, leaving him struggling to get his wings up, having to beat them hard repeatedly before enough of the shit has been removed to allow him to take off.

   He comes straight at you, fully aware that you’re the one who brought him down and obviously eager to retaliate.    It takes less than a second of seeing his distorted and enraged face glare at you, before your mind reverts into thoughts of grief and despair, and just like earlier, the moment you do, the Darkling pounces and tries to invade your mind.    You’re not threatened by it, but it does scatter your resolve, leaving you frozen.

   It tortures you. Seeing this, knowing that it’s your Oberyn but you’ll never get to see him proudly glide across the skies again. Knowing you’re the one who has to end him.    There isn’t enough light in the universe to keep those thoughts away.    He closes in so fast, and yet it seems to happen infinitely slowly. Jaws wide and the churning heat within, trained solely on you, needing to destroy with such desperation.

   You wonder if there’s more behind it.    His very existence depends on your obliteration, that much is easy to conclude, but somehow, you feel as though this need is fed by more than just the fear of death.    It was the fear of losing you which brought him here, so it stands to reason the same fear is still what ultimately controls him, even if his memories are gone.    But none of this really matters. It’s just thoughts, coming to you now as your own desperation is brought to a head. A last attempt to put off the unthinkable… but inevitable.

   Stop..

   An image flashes before your eyes, obscuring the jaws which are about to reach you, and you hear your own voice whispering inside your head, just as it had sounded back then, while something occurs to you on instinct.    You’d made it stop that day in Detroit. The creature attacking the policemen. But it hadn’t been sunlight you’d put in its way.    Once again you scream the word, not as loud as you can, but with all the might you possess… and the dragon stops.

   He’s brought to a halt so abruptly that he flinches backwards and then crashes down onto the beach below you as if an invisible rope had snared and pulled him down.    You look up, checking if there are reinforcements on the way to try and aid the dragon, only to see Simon’s face contort into pure rage at the sight of his presumed perfect weapon against you flailing as he tries to get back up.    But the monster makes no attempt to help his minion.

   Turning back to Oberyn, your breath is suddenly stifled as pain floods your being with the knowledge of what you’re about to do. He’s helpless to defend himself while you hold him down, pinning him to the sands as you try to prepare. Except there is no preparing for this. No amount of conditioning is going to make this one damned bit easier.    You need to touch him to finish it, so although it’s the last thing you want to do, you start to walk down towards the beach.

   He thrashes against the invisible chains you have wrapped around him, screeching through his ruined throat for his master to save him, but the dark one isn’t going to spare his resources on a lost cause.    Whether he knows what you’re doing or not, he knows he’s powerless to stop it.

   “Shhh…” you soothe, making your way to the once so mighty king of the skies, and his writhing eases up a little. “It’s gonna be alright.”

   By the time you’re standing in front of him, he’s completely stopped moving, laying his head down in the sand, staining the tiny crystals black with the oil that seeps from his ruined skin.

   “It wasn’t the sun which stopped that creature in Detroit,” you explain, even though you know he doesn’t have the ability to understand you anymore.

   You just need to. One last conversation. Your final chance to ever say anything to him again.

   “It was conviction. In that moment, I truly believed myself strong enough to stand up to something so evil. And I believed it so completely, so fiercely, that my voice reached into its dead brain and sparked the idea that maybe there is something more powerful than darkness.    That’s all it took to stop it in its tracks. Just an idea. The barest hint of a flaw in the fabric of reality woven by the evils of this world.”

   Taking one final step, you lay your hands on the tip of his nose, ignoring the thick, oily goo you sink into slightly, and which starts to trickle down your lower arms in sluggish dribbles.

   “Such a simple thing. And yet, I couldn’t convince you of it. Because around you, I didn’t think I had to be that person. With you, I thought I could just be… human,” you shrug unhappily, giving yourself just a few seconds to let the tears fall. “I should’ve known better.”

   He watches you, giving no indication that anything you say is affecting him, and even though you knew it wouldn’t, it still hurts you to know he’ll never look at you with those big brown, adoring eyes again.    Light flows through your hands and your chest, and you watch as he slowly dissolves before your eyes, until all that’s left is the glowing dust. And the love of your life is truly gone.

   Pain overwhelms you, bringing you to your knees, but there’s no longer any fear within you.    The worst thing that could ever have happened, has already happened.

   What’s left is agony and loneliness, but this doesn’t concern you, because you now know those feelings won’t take away your love or your hope. That they don’t eliminate positivity, but each exist alongside one another instead.    You now realize both are born from the same place. Equal parts of the same core, and each vital for the existence of the other.    And this understanding makes you truly untouchable to the Darkling.

   But you can’t force this kind of understanding on other people. It’s not something one can be taught, so there’s no way for you to render others equally untouchable.    Oberyn’s final act was to make you invincible against the darkness, not so that you can singlehandedly stop it, but so that the forces of light will always have a leader.    No matter how long this war rages.

   “You may have temporarily weakened me, Boo,” Simon snarls then, “but so long as the spirits belong to me, you will lose.    I have all of eternity to wait for you to recognize that.”

   With those words, he and his army retreats, although the Atlantic remains ruined after their departure.    He’s not defeated, not even close. He’ll regroup and head for another coast, another continent to try and infect, and he’ll keep doing that for however long he has to.    Because he’s right. Without the spirits, you’ll never stand a chance.

   As if knowing you’re thinking about her, Caelum comes to your side and lands in the sand beside you.

   “We can’t let him drag this out,” you say through the tears and the snot which has accumulated in your nose, while you follow your enemy’s departure with your gaze. “I don’t know how, but we need to free your sisters and we need to do it soon.”

   In your periphery, you see her nod decisively, probably also aware the longer this takes, the more people will eventually succumb to the darkness no matter how diligently you try to safeguard them. And perhaps even more importantly; the more of nature will be destroyed.    As you stand there, a plan begins to take form inside your mind, and you wonder if she somehow speaks to you, because you don’t feel like all of this is coming from you.

   “Has it ever been this bad before?” you ask her, turning to meet her eyes now.

   She holds your gaze for a few moments, but if she replies, you can’t tell. You don’t know if she even remembers things from as far back as the last dark one, but you also feel like whether she does or not, she’s no longer the same thoughtless entity of raw emotion she’s meant to be.    Her stoic stillness somehow feels like an answer, though, and not a good one.    But however bad you might try to imagine things could get from this point; nothing could’ve prepared you for how truly awful they would become.

--=¤=--

   You sigh heavily as you feel another person die. Not by the Darkling’s hand, though, this was natural causes. A young man somewhere on the northern Australian continent, you’re not sure exactly where.    It stopped being important a while ago. The exact locations. They’re all just losses.    Caelum senses it too, and you feel her sorrow, which annoys you. You’re not sure when you stopped being able to grieve the lost ones anymore, but it seems like a long time ago.

   You still care, perhaps even too much. Because each and every one who dies feels like your failure, but after so long and so much death, it’s gotten harder and harder to let yourself feel it. To let your love for the world carry your burdens and lighten your heart.    It’s so hard when you’re connected to everything, because people die, in all sorts of ways, every minute of every day. And even if it isn’t traumatic or horrible, even if they just die in their sleep, you feel all of them as they leave the light.

   How long has it been? How many deaths have you felt at this point?    The fight takes you all over the world, so time-zones have stopped having any meaning to you. You battle the dark for as long as you can, and then you find a place to rest, sleeping for what you assume are a few hours, and then you get back to work.    That’s the routine. Day after day.

   The world fights with you, holding off the black hurricane and the senseless death it protects, even when you sleep. Determined not to fail, feeding off the light you still pour into it with as much hope as you can muster.    But for all their courage and strength, Simon’s power has not been weakened. You’ve made almost no progress in recovering anything he’s already corrupted, leaving the American continents his adult playground.

   He’s frustrated, though. You can tell. His need to consume makes him crave fresh bodies. Living things to torture the light out of so he can feed his stale existence and give it purpose.    His army is restless, spending its time tearing at itself in search of relief from such a pointless existence, needing to tear, rip, destroy something. At times it gets bad enough that they even start dismembering themselves, further mutating their bodies as the removed limbs grow back even more distorted.

   Time, it seems, is no more their friend than it is yours.

   Caelum has changed as well. She’s no longer limited to non-verbal communication, having learned not just how to speak telepathically with you, but how to remember things from one moment to the next.    Ordinarily, she shouldn’t be capable of thought or reasoning of any kind, but circumstances have forced her to evolve.

   “Please, stop,” you ask her without saying a word out loud, when she continues to grieve for the dead man, and her sharp eyes refocus on you.

   “You are the one who recognizes the strength of caring,” she chides, not for the first time.

   “I’m aware. But lingering on the dead won’t help, will it?”

   She doesn’t respond to that, but something about her gaze makes you feel guilty.

   “I just mean we need to keep looking ahead, find solutions. We’re not a single step closer to ending this war and it’s been… how long now?” you ask, genuinely trying to work it out but coming up short.

   “Three and a half years,” she replies, and for a moment you just stare blankly at her.

   Your own assessment was off by about an entire year.

   “Fuck…” you sigh, bowing your head in recognition of your absolute failure.

   It’s the fifth time since that day you’re back on Faial Island, standing in front of the lighthouse and looking out over the Atlantic.    You had eventually figured out how to heal the ocean, and all water, once Simon had left, so today it glistens blue against the horizon to the west. It turned out that all you had to do was change the wavelength of your light for it to travel through water.    But that’s also about as much as you’ve accomplished.

   The plan you’d once had, to try and sneak back into the States and covertly reach some of the spirits by using your conviction to gain control over a darkened creature and use it as cover, had failed on multiple occasions, leaving you scratching your head for some other idea.    Brute force wasn’t gonna work, because as much as the world would stand behind you, they couldn’t operate offensively and would be of little help to you. And powerful though you are, even if you could muscle your way past an entire army, you still can’t kill Simon.

   But somewhere deep inside you, there’s a glimmer. A truth, or knowledge, you’re not sure which.    What you do know is that this glimmer is the answer, if you can just tap into it and learn what it’s trying to tell you. Because there is a way to win, you’ve never doubted that, and you never will. You just need to find it.

   “Hey,” a voice quietly greets from behind you, and you recognize it as Andreia.

   She comes to stand next to you, and you glance at her with a polite nod and small smile. She always comes to see you whenever she sees you arrive by the lighthouse where she still works.    That’s another thing which seems very odd to you. How the world still has to keep going as usual, even with the truest evil trying to devour it. How the stock market has been affected by Americas destruction, how the politics of the world have shifted.

   It feels like all that should’ve just stopped. Been put on indefinite hold while you all band together and fight. But that’s not how it works.    Oddly enough, the planet has probably never seen a more peaceful time in all its existence, with the entire population so devoted to hope. There are no ongoing conflicts, virtually no crime even on the smallest scale of offences, and people are generally behaving more helpfully and tolerantly.

   What a strange world this is, where the end of this war will see it return to those darker traits in very little time.

   “Any progress?” she asks, following your gaze across the sea.

   “No, not yet. I’m… stuck. In my head, you know?” you ponder, grateful to have someone other than the owl to talk to, just because humans relate to you better and understand things which no spirit can. “I keep trying to look at the problem from new angles, looking for something I could’ve missed, but as much as I know in my fucking bones there is an answer, I just can’t find it.”

   “Maybe you need to write it down.”

   At first, you dismiss her suggestion, since you can’t see what difference it would make, but when she continues to explain her reasoning, you start to come around.

   “It activates a different part of your brain, which sometimes helps with problem solving.    Singing does too, but I don’t think there is a song for this situation.”

   “I don’t know. People have been making music for ages, covering every topic under the sun. I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could find something eerily appropriate,” you shrug, laughing lightly at the subject.

   Ever since you lost Oberyn, laughter hasn’t come as easily for you as before. It’s harder to let yourself be happy when he can’t be there to share it with you.    But it’s also so important that you do hold on to the good moments and allow their brightness to infect you.

   “How about… Ironic by Alanis Morissette”, she offers, making you snicker.

   “Definitely. Or Everybody by Backstreet Boys.”

   She hums approvingly, and a few more songs are exchanged between you, getting more and more ludicrous.

   “Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I mean, come on, both the song and the group are appropriate,” you suggest, and by now you’re both struggling against incessant giggling.

   “Lose Yourself…” Andreia replies, but then forgets the artist for a second, “…by uh…Eminem!”

   But your laughter dies then. Partly because while the song does fit the theme overall, the message you’ve always taken away from it is simply about living in the moment and appreciating what you have, however unimportant or insignificant it might seem to someone else, which doesn’t really fit with going to war against ancient evil.    And partly because of how the woman herself doesn’t seem to know why she chose that song at all. The moment she said it, confusion flashed over her features and with every second since, she looks increasingly befuddled.

   “Lose yourself,” you repeat on impulse, but this time saying it as a suggestion to yourself.

   Immediately, there’s a strange little click inside your head, and then the glimmer suddenly comes into full focus, so distinct now that you know it.    How did you never think of it before? Oberyn even said it to you, in your final conversation on your way north from Antarctica.

   You cannot possibly think that anything but giving it everything you have is going to be enough to free them all.

   Every word he ever spoke to you or around you, lives in your mind, remembered in such vivid detail you can even recall the slight tremor in his voice as he’d said it.

   “Andreia,” you say, turning to face her and pulling her into a tight hug which she bewilderedly reciprocates. “Thank you. You may have just saved everyone.”

   You pull back and smile at her, but before she can say anything, Caelum picks you up and flies off with you, having heard you call out to her in your mind the moment the realization hit you.

   “Am I to head west, then, Lightbringer?” she asks even as she aligns her beak to the shrouded horizon.

   “Yes. It’s time to end this,” you answer out loud, because these words should be heard. The time for sneaking around and whispering between shielded minds is over. “I finally know how to free your sisters.”

   Your once again brimming confidence rubs off on the owl, and she sets a nearly impossible speed, excited by the prospect of seeing her fellow spirits restored to their rightful glory.    It doesn’t take long before you’re back underneath the poisonous cloud, and right away you can tell that it’s changed since your last visit, maybe a year and half earlier.    The air is so thick with soot and ash that it clings to your skin and colors you black, while also wreaking havoc on your lungs in mere minutes.

   Undoubtedly, this is what the entire world would eventually become, once all life had been consumed and all that was left for the armies of death to occupy themselves, was to torture each other, flooding the air with their oily blood and mutated skin cells.    You’re grateful to know that this will never come to pass, while you cough up some of the black goo which has already begun to accumulate in your throat and lungs.    It doesn’t harm you since you’re continually healing the damage it does, but it hurts more than one might imagine.

   Looking up, you can see that Caelum isn’t affected by it, beyond how it obscures her sight, so you do your best to help her navigate by trying to get a sense of where Simon is.    You find him quite quickly, detecting a massive surge of energy as he realizes his enemy is back. Which is probably the only thing he’s had to be excited about in a very long time.    Directing the spirit there, you instruct her to drop you from an altitude high enough that she’ll be safe even if Octopus should be around and attempt to reach her with its enormous tentacles.

   “Such a fall will break many of your bones,” she notes, not really out of concern, but more like she’s just making sure you know.

   “I’m aware. It’ll be fine.”

   The weightlessness is strangely liberating. Instead of falling, it makes you feel like you’re soaring, maybe because of how hopeful your realization has made you. But still no more than a trick of the mind.    Hitting the ground removes the illusion when your legs completely shatter, all the way up to your hips, and fractures to your spine, ribs and arms make themselves known moments later.

   You can still move, though, and as you feel Simon approach, you manage to claw yourself up to a seated position, finding that ignoring the pain is easier than you’d thought this time, which gives you comfort even as your enemy reaches you, sporting a large smirk on his disfigured face.    Whatever’s been going on here for the past three years, he’s clearly begun to mutate himself, because his features aren’t entirely recognizable as human anymore.

   He still has two legs and arms, and only one head, but the true shape of the Darkling has started to emerge, and it’s fucking hideous.

   “Eww… the hell happened to you?” you ask, breathing hard through the pain, but otherwise mostly disgusted by his appearance.

   Unlike his minions, the dark one is dry. His skin is a pale grey and where it’s cracked from the lack of moisture, mostly on his arms and hands but everywhere else too, there are miniature faces growing out of his flesh. Not like images of faces, but rather as though tiny people are actually trapped inside of him, trying to crawl out through the gaps but held back by some thin, partly transparent film.    He’s at least ten feet tall now, so there’s much more space for these trapped people to crowd around, but they’re still fighting each other for room.

   “You don’t like it?” he asks, and even his voice is unrecognizable. “This is my collection. The ones I like the most get to live inside me. The ones who are the most frightened… they make such delightful music inside my mind.”

   You were hoping it wasn’t what it looks like, but clearly, it is. He probably grows larger with each soul he devours, and since he couldn’t have infected any new people for a long time, these must be his own creatures.    Which would mean, once the mutated body is destroyed, the original human soul is still there, to some extent.    But not in a way that would enable them to be restored. Their bodies are gone and no power on earth could bring them back. But at least the destruction of the Darkling will set them free.

   “You’re using them to protect yourself.. aren’t you?” you ponder, trying to buy time for the spirits to reveal themselves, but also hoping to understand more about him, since that will help you take him down. “You cover yourself with them to make it harder for anyone to reach your dead heart.”

   “Well, of course. Who’s gonna try and reach into this mess of scared little people, so desperate to escape their hell, they’ll crawl into the skin of anyone who touches me, driving that person mad.    Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”

   “I suppose. In a devilish sort of way.”

   “You will make a very nice addition to the flock…” he pauses, and puts a finger to his lips as if trying to think of something which evades him, “…oh, what was it Oberyn called you? I only heard it once, but it was something Egyptian, wasn’t it?”

   You don’t really wanna hear that name spoken by anyone else, but since you’re still not sensing any spirits, you play along.

   “Kaivalya.”

   “Ah, yes! Freedom. How insulting a name to give to a creature whose entire life has been doomed to this ending from before she was even born,” he laments, putting on a very noticeably fake tone of compassion just to irritate you.

   His voice already grates your eardrums. It’s so dry and course he can’t get much volume to it, but it still manages to cut straight into your brain with how it breaks on the high notes.    The fake sentiment only manages to mildly annoy you in comparison.

   “It was a promise…” you spit through teeth held tight against the pain of your legs trying to realign themselves so that the bones can be set, only to hurt more when the angles they’re trapped in won’t allow the movements.

   “A promise? That old prince promised you freedom, and you believed him?!” Simon squeals before starting to laugh, further abusing your ears.

   “No,” you counter, once you’ve adapted to the new level of pain. “He didn’t promise me freedom… He couldn’t have, because I was never his prisoner.    He named me Freedom because that’s what I gave to him. A heart free to love again.”

   You can tell he’s about to counter, it’s easy because his smirk returns every time his own thoughts amuse him, but you’re done with this distraction so you continue before he can.

   “That’s what you took from him. I gave him this amazing gift… and you ripped it out of him.”

   “Prince Martell sealed his own fate by allowing his fears to rip him apart,” he challenges, no longer smirking, though. “He was so scared for you. So worried you’d lose and he’d have to live on without you.    And so, the coward you loved, the man who knew better than anyone how important it would be to keep hope alive in the time of the Darkling, chose to die rather than fight for you.”

   Fuck. He’s found your weak spot and thrown a knife into it.    You shouldn’t care what he says but you can’t help how his words cut through you, because they’re the same ones you’ve battled with in your nightmares. The same ones you’ve been unable to answer ever since it first dawned on you that he’d turned.    Why did he give in? He knew what would happen. How could he leave himself so vulnerable?

   But this is why you’re here. To set things right, no matter what happened in the past. You’ll never get those answers, so all you can do is let the questions go.    And just as you begin to calm yourself, you feel it.    They’re coming. He’s summoned them to watch as he devours you. And to protect him, should you have some trick up your sleeve.

   “Tell me something, Si…” you start, giving them time to come closer before you get this over with. “Did you really think you’d ever get me to surrender to you?    Is that what all this flaunting of your achievements is meant to do? To win me over?”

   He sours while he listens, clearly unable to think of a witty comeback because you’re right. He absolutely thought that this, beating you, would be such a triumph you wouldn’t be able to resist admiring him.

   “I’m the fucking goddess of all light, you prick. I was never gonna bow to you, you’re nothing but a shadow under the bed, a cockroach hiding in the bottom of the sink.    You named me Boo, remember? Because even back then, I was better than you.”

   You’re not actually trying to antagonize him, you just really wanted to give him a piece of your mind before you get this show going.    But true to form, he’s enraged by your insults and comes at you with his arms raised and ready to beat you into the ground.    The nine all are there, too far away for your eyes to make them out in the dark and dusty air, but close enough that you can feel them, standing in a circle around you and their master.    And Caelum circles directly above you, just as you’d asked her.

   “Don’t hesitate,” you tell her, as you watch Simon measure his first punch.

   “Your sacrifice will not be in vain… Kaivalya,” she replies, and unlike the Darkling, her use of your most beloved name shows you just how much she respects you.

   Nothing else is said between you. Nothing more is needed.

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@harriedandharassed @kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

[lemon-russ]

So I've been writing a Cato x OC thing that was just a dumb thing I was having fun with, and decided to share with the class. I will note this is the result of listening to a lot of olde timey emo pop punk and wanting to make an OC that is not perfect. Or good. She's a train wreck. Also this is 40k. And prob not incredibly lore accurate in places but I got excited about hive cities and tried.

Anyway big ol warning on this that it is not supposed to be smut (but I can't control the winds if it works it works) and is 100% just me listening to angsty music and wanting to write someone in shitty situations. So going to be a bit more on serious and bleaker side. Also, Yes the OC is the same one from wolf mother but slightly altered, I am lazy and like this one. Idk why I feel I need to defend myself for pretty clean grimdark fanfic when I normally write tropey smut but here we are lol

Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers! Taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye

Letting People Down Is My Thing (Ch. 1)

|ch.1| Next> Ao3

Song: Just One Yesterday - Fall Out Boy (a lot of this is going to be heavy on old FOB I'm not sorry)

Cato x Fem OC

CW: Drugs, Alcohol, PTSD/ Trauma, General dourness (will have others as it goes please check CW every time!)

Summary: Ex-Imperial Guard captain Wren Vaille gets a summons to meet with Guilliman out of the blue.

Word count: 2,451

Wren trudged through the cluttered, cramped roads of the hive city. She lit up something- she wasn’t entirely sure what but it was in her pocket- and took a drag, shoving her hands in her pockets and shuffling around the rowdy denizens of the street.

Whatever it was, it took the edge off her anxious mind for a minute. She let out a long smokey breath and found her way to a tiny door in an alley, unable to fully open without hitting the building next to it. She squeezed in, pulling it closed hard behind her. It didnt fully close, but nothing in the hive city of the outer palace worked right anyways. She scootched around her neighbor, in her usual place sitting on the floor and blocking the tiny hall.

“Can I get a drag of that?” The old woman croaked as Wren stepped over her. She rolled her eyes, “Don't you have your own?” She grumbled, scooting to her door and entering the passcode on the datapad next to it.

“Still could use a drag.” The old woman mumbled, but pulled something out of her own pocket to smoke anyways. Wren sighed and hipchecked her door to get it open.

She kicked it closed and rearmed the locks, clicking on the light to her tiny, windowless home. Her bed was shoved to the wall, blocked in by her food cabinet. What once was a closet now served as a small bathroom, and took up the area at the foot of the bed, jutting out in a small square. The little free space outside of that had a small table and a rickety chair.

All things considered, a pretty nice place for living in the outer palace hive city. Benefits of a good military savings and some greased palms.

She ashed her mystery roll in a broken cup on the table, smothering it for later. She crawled on her bed and kicked back, grabbing a packet of soylen viridian and tearing it open with her teeth. She ate the goop, squeezing it out of the pouch, and dug her newest acquirement out of her ratty coat pocket- a paperback book on bionics repair. She settled back, kicking her bionic leg up on the counter while she started reading.

The light flickered, and she groaned. Power outages were common in this part of the city. Surely enough, her little lightbulb flickered off. She sighed and pulled a lighter out to light her way to the switch and turn it off- she'd get charged for the power connection even when it went out if she left the connection on.

She flicked her lighter closed, laying back on her bed and sighing, staring at the black ceiling. The only light came from the small glowing indicators on her whirring leg. The blinking green illuminated her little hovel dimly, just enough to make out the shapes of her garbage packed shelves.

In the hall, there was a noise from the old woman. “Watch where you're goin!” She grumbled at someone.

“Don't sit in the hall in the dark then-” the stranger’s voice snapped back before they knocked on Wren's door.

She frowned, freezing, hoping they would go away if she seemed like she wasn’t home.

“Wren Vaille?” They said, knocking more. “Message for Wren Vaille.”

She grimaced. On one hand, this was a pretty common scam, get someone to open their door and rob them. On the other hand, she was curious.

She sighed, scooting over the bed and feeling her way the couple steps to the door. “From who?” She called.

“It's got the Imperial seal- I'm not ‘sposed to open it. Gotta get your signature too.”

She groaned. “Fine. Don't try anything though.” She grumbled, fumbling her hand over a small shelf and taking the knife she had there. She held it in the non visible hand and opened her door.

The messenger looked tired and bored. He carried a small lamp for light, likely used to working in blackouts. He handed her a thick, wax sealed envelope. Her brow raised, and she took it and signed off on his paper.

“’Sposed to tell you you got a transport ticket in there for tomorrow. Someone wants to see you in the inner palace.” he adds, turning to leave.

She frowned and looked at the letter. She closed the door and flicked her lighter open again to read it. Sure enough, it had an imperial seal- specifically, and Ultramarines seal.

She grimaced and cracked the wax.

His lord Guilliman, Lord Reagent, requests your audience while his visits the inner imperial city. Enclosed are instructions and passage tickets for the meeting. Please pack for an extended stay away.

She reread it a few times, then inspected the tickets and passport papers. They seemed real. But why was the primarch of the Ultramarines reaching out to an Ex-Guard captain?

She let out a sigh, head falling back. She felt her way to the table and relit the mystery roll, the dim glow of the embers dancing in the dark of her powerless apartment.

She just got settled here, and now she was pretty sure whatever she was getting called for was going to mean her place would be considered abandoned and reassigned. She flopped back on her bed, what she was pretty sure now was an obscura laced lho-stick hanging from her mouth, and tossed the papers on the counter. Every time she started to settle in, something had to come rattle her cage again.

____________________________________

The next morning she wore her old Guard pack, stuffed full of what little she cared about that was also not illegal to own. The rest of her belongings, the things too illicit and cubersome, were packed away in her little hidey-hole safe she had in the back of an abandoned factory building. She'd found the small lockable room spelunking collapsed hive one day, and now used it as storage.

She waited at the station for the rail transport, taking a quick swig from her small flask to fight off the hangover of whatever she was smoking yesterday. She read over the papers again. Everything checked out. She was to take the rail to a landing pad, where a thunderhawk would fly her to wherever it was Guilliman wanted to meet her at.

What it didn’t include was why.

She assumed nothing good. Rather, nothing good for her. She wasn't in trouble, they'd have simply arrested her. But she was in trouble, as in, they were going to put her in the way of trouble, or they wouldn’t be going through all this.

The rail ride was crowded and bumpy, but she made it to the ship bay in one piece.

As she approached, a few serfs in ultramarine clothes greeted her, checking her papers and ushering her onto the ship.

She settled into a seat in the cargo area, strapping herself in well. Last time she'd been in one of these had been a little too eventful, but she doubted ‘scared of flying’ would count as a reason to blow off a primarch.

She ran a hand through her short hair nervously, sneaking another sip from her flask. A nearby serf gave her a judging look and Wren returned it with a what are you looking at scowl, making the serf huff and turn away. Wren took another swig just to annoy the serf.

The turbulence of the thunderhawk taking off was thankfully dulled enough by her drink that she could focus on other things and not panic while they flew.

When they landed again, now in a part of the Imperial palace where the sky was visible and there was still gold on the walls, she walked quickly out of the ship on shaky legs, heading to a banister and leaning over it while taking deep breaths. She lit up a lho-stick and took a few deep pulls, letting her head fall back as she tried to relax the shaking.

The serfs gave her looks as they went about unpacking the thunderhawk. Wren didn't care. She hated flying.

“Wren?” A familiar voice broke her from her trance, and she whirled around.

She dropped her lho-stick, color draining from her face. “…Cato.” She rasped, swallowing with a suddenly dry throat. She stood a bit straighter, hands finding her pockets nervously. “It's been… a while.” She says, clearing her throat.

He looked at her in shock, eyeing her up and down with a look of mixed surprise and disgust.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked.

She frowned. “What do you mean? I had a bomb dropped on me.“ she retorted, bristling a bit.

He snapped his mouth closed, frowning in return. “You know I didn't mean that. I was there for that part. I mean-” he gestured up and down at her. “This. You look like you lost half your weight.” He grimaced. “And you reek of smoke and booze.”

She scowled back at him. “Gee, great to see you too.” She grumbled.

Cato rolled his eyes. “Please, don't pretend you don't know you look insane. What happened to your hair?”

She frowned, running her hand through her short hair. “Ok, now youre just being mean. I thought this was a good look.” She huffed, shaking out her hair as it fell over her eyes a bit.

He sighed. “Lets get you into clothes that don’t stink of… whatever you've been doing. And a shower, before we meet with Guilliman.”

_________________________

She was left to go change and shower in the communal showers for serfs, and is given a new uniform to wear. She would have asked why a retired captain is getting a uniform, but she understood what was happening here. Though the uniform did not have any of the patches or badges that would indicate a rank, so at least they didn't outright want to force her to be a captain again. It did seem however, she was being brought back to the Imperial Guard in at least some manner.

She toweled her hair, and dressed, then awkwardly met Cato back in the hall.

He eyed her over, grimacing. “I'd say better, but somehow you look worse in nice clothes. The contrast, I think.”

She scowled. “Can you lay off? I don't look that bad, you just haven't seen me in a few years.” She huffed.

He started leading her down the hall. “Okay, but a couple years doesn't account for looking like an obscura addled zombie.” He said.

Wren groaned. “Glad to see you're as pleasant as ever. What am I here for anyways? And why did the send you? Surely they know our, you know, history.” She grumbled.

Cato huffed. “Guilliman's been looking for someone good with strategy and diplomacy. There's a few planets we're in a stalemate with. We want their workforce to maintain the farms and mines, and they're being difficult, but not so bad that we want to just go in and raze it.” He explained.

She stopped, mouth twisting and brow scrunching in confusion. “Wait, what? Then what the hell am I doing here?”

He stopped and turned back to her with a tight frown. “You're here, because I reccomend you.”

Her brow shot to her hairline. “Why? I'm not a diplomat, and, well, I don't think we were on… get each other jobs terms?”

He kept his composure. “Because I know you're good at de-escalating fights like you were in the Guard, and I knew you probably had nothing else going on.” He said, turning to walk again.

She frowned and jogged a bit to keep up with his long strides. “You don't know that- I have a ton going on. You're actually really interrupting my routine-” she protests, and almost runs into his back as he stops dead.

He turns back to her, looking unamused. “Uh huh. You have a flourishing carreer in the lower cities then?”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do, you don't know.”

He sighed, and reached his hand to her waist, slipping between the buttons of her jacket.

“H-hey-!” She startled, but he slipped his hand further under her jacket of her uniform and returned it with her flask dangling between his finger and thumb.

“I think I can guess what you do all day, Vaille.” He said tiredly, tossing the container in a waste chute.

“HEY-!” She squeaked, scrambling for the chute. It was too late, her amasec was already probably a half mile down the hivecity trash network.

Cato sighed. “Please, have a little dignity Wren. Scrambling after booze like a starved rat.” He chided, making her huff and blush, stomping back to him.

“You can't just throw out my shit!” She snapped. He rolled his eyes.

“And you're not supposed to have alcohol or drugs inside the palace proper.” He said dryly, looking at her with disappointment. “Seriously, what happened to you? Even after your recovery you weren't like… this.” He said bitterly.

Her scowl faltered and she had to look away from his face. “You're being an ass and over exaggerating, like you always do.” She mumbled. She tried to sound stern, but it was hard when she felt the heat climbing her cheeks.

Sure it'd been a rough year. And last year was rough too. But she had plans, she was getting back on her feet. She'd cut back already, and was out doing things in the day now. She was doing just fine- thriving for lower hivecity standards, even.

“Just- lets get this over with so Guilliman can ask if you've lost your mind and I can go home.” She mumbled, continuing down the hall.

Cato sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Right. I'm sure I'll have a lot to explain for after for wasting his time. Emperor forbid I assumed you could hold it together for 3 years…” he replied tiredly as he followed.

[rorywritesjunk]

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered

Buggy meets an infamous pirate who dabbles in magic that everyone seems to be after, but they only have eyes for Buggy. Why is he so special? Rating: PGish. Warning: None. Buggy is just grumpy. A/N: My “Howl’s Moving Castle” fic based off the movie because I never read the book. It will have different moments than the movie just to omit some things. This story uses “You” but I couldn’t not give the character a name and for some reason “Shore” is what I thought of. And Shore is referred to as they/them, nonbinary, and breaks hearts wherever they go. Buggy is Sophie in this fic, is 22, and not always in a good mood. Enjoy!

Title comes from “Better In The Morning” by Birdtalker.

TAGLIST: @fanaticsnail

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4

Chapter II

When Buggy got up the next morning he felt like he was trampled by elephants. Everything just ached and his entire body was stiff. He rubbed his face, eyes barely open as he threw the blankets off and forced himself to sit up. Last night couldn't cause this much discomfort, right? He pushed himself off the mattress, hunched over as he stood on his feet. Maybe he needed to do some stretching before breakfast. 

He made his way to the mirror hanging over his dresser. His room wasn't big, just a cot, dresser, a chair, and a mirror he looked at himself with when he'd practice doing his makeup. Not that it did any good, he didn't perform, there was no point to it, but it was a little joy he had.

Yawning, he pulled the hem of his shirt up, rubbing his face on it to get rid of any dried drool or eye goop first before he finally opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror.

It took him a few seconds to realize what he was looking at.

He was looking at himself but… older. Much older. At least fifty years older. Buggy stared at himself with wide eyes as he poked and tugged at the wrinkles on his face before slapping himself a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

He pinched his arm to wake up and noticed how wrinkled and withered his hands looked. Both of them were and when he tried to make a fist he found it to be difficult, everything was so stiff.

He let out a scream that resounded through the entire tent.

Did-did that witch curse him last night? Why was he suddenly so old? He was young yesterday before bed but now …

His once vibrant blue hair was now silver, his eyes a little cloudier, only his nose remained the same: still big, round, and red on his face. 

“Buggy, you okay in there?” Someone asked from the other side of the door, jiggling the door knob. 

“Don't come in!” He shrieked, voice hoarse and weak. Even that changed?! “I'm… I'm fine, just feeling sick.”

“Huh, okay.” 

He heard the footsteps retreat, leaving him alone once more. What could any of them do to help? Likely make some cruel comments about his appearance, Oh, Buggy, you were cursed to be an ugly old man? How is that different from every other day? was something that would be said. There were even crueler things to be said, things he tried to not even think of, but it was hard not to as he stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the appearance of someone in their 70s.

He needed to do something. He couldn't stay here.

~

Buggy didn't know where he was going to go. He already collected what he would need before sneaking out of the circus while everyone was waking up and getting ready for their practices. He wondered if anyone would miss him. 

He passed through the market, making his way to the edge of town. He saw a crowd gathering nearby, pointing off to the distance while some talked about a land ship, which didn’t make sense to Buggy. 

“That’s Shore’s land ship! They’re on the move!” 

“I wonder if they’re going to stop here? I don’t want them to steal my heart!”

“You’re not pretty enough for that.” Laughter followed that last statement and Buggy flinched when he heard it. He had heard the same back at the circus, and while this jab wasn’t directed at him, it still stung. Who was Shore exactly? Was it his companion from last night, the one who helped get him away from the Marines, or someone else entirely?

There was talk as well of a missing princess, of an impending war, and other nonsense Buggy didn’t care about. It made sense why the Marines were everywhere if there was the possibility of war, but it wouldn’t matter to the circus. They were loyal to no one but themselves, they would move from city to city, doing what they could to avoid it. Buggy now would do the same to avoid it, no longer tethered to anything. 

Shaking his head, he continued onward. It was going to be a lot of walking but he could manage.

~

No, he couldn’t manage. He was able to get someone with a cart to take him far to the outskirts, to the bottom of the foothills of the mountains. He asked for directions once from a cabin, being warned that the path was dangerous and that there were witches, wizards, and even pirates up in the mountains but he didn’t care. He needed to find answers from someone. 

Buggy was certain he had been walking for an eternity, he must be far away from the town, but when he turned around after walking an hour up the mountain path, he screamed and kicked a rock in frustration. If he was younger he wouldn’t be having trouble walking fast, but if he was younger he wouldn’t be doing this. Damn that Alvida for her stupid curse! Why did she have to curse him? What did he do to deserve this?

He needed to take a break from walking, so he found a boulder to sit on as he looked out over the town. Was this even the right decision, to go into the unknown to find help when he wasn’t even sure how to ask for it? He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. Maybe he’d die up in the mountains. 

Looking around his surroundings, all he saw were boulders and shrubs, though one had a thick branch sticking out of it. Maybe that could be used for a walking stick, help him keep his balance and move a little faster along his journey. Slowly he got to his feet, resting his hands on his knees as he straightened up and made his way over to it. It looked perfect so he grabbed it, giving it a few tugs before it came loose from the shrub. 

He fell back in surprise when he saw a scarecrow stuck to the other end of it. The head was a turnip with a dull expression on its face, there was a blue wig affixed to its head, the shade lighter than Buggy's own hair color. The outfit was made of rags it seems, likely this poor think had been out in the elements for a while, looking as though critters nibbled on it.

He could only stare at it in surprise as he struggled to his feet. The scarecrow stood upright on its pole before tilting itself forward to look down at Buggy. Once upright he looked it over before shaking his head, grumbling about magic and nonsense. He was fed up with all of it so he turned to walk away, but his new friend followed, hopping along behind him. Buggy turned to glare at the scarecrow.

“What?!” He demanded. “I don't have anything for you, leave me alone!”

The scarecrow paused briefly, considering Buggy's demand, but it hopped along after him. He couldn't believe it, why? Was it going to steal his food? Could a scarecrow kill a human? He didn't want to find out and he wasn't up to fighting it off. He needed to think of a way to get rid of it and as he glanced upwards, noticing the dark clouds that were starting to loom over him, he had an idea.

“So, you want to join me on my walk? I don't blame you, I am Buggy the Genius Jester after all.” He boasted to the expressionless turnip head. “If you want to be helpful, go find me some shelter before the rain comes. If it's adequate I may consider letting you join me.”

The scarecrow seemed to consider Buggy’s offer before hopping off ahead of him. Was it really that easy? He smirked as it got farther away from him, clearly having more energy that he did currently. At least he was alone once more.

He continued along the path, starting to feel the ache in his bones and muscles more now than he would had he been a young man. Why was he cursed with being old? Why couldn't the witch curse him with something else? Buggy tightened his coat around him and sighed. This was awful. He hated all of this. Curse the witch herself for putting Buggy through this!

As he grumbled along, the rain started. He groaned loudly, wanting to give up. It was a cold and miserable kind of rain, soaking through his clothes and to his skin. Everything that ached before was now worse, his body wanting to give up. Everything was terrible.

He was ready to give up, just crumple to the ground and let nature reclaim him, but a sound caught his attention. It sounded like… sails in the wind? Out here in the mountains? He looked around, trying to see where the noise was coming from, when a ship appeared behind him. It hovered above the ground, soaring over Buggy, and his jaw dropped. Was that the ship seen from the market? Is this Shore's ship?

The scarecrow returned, following after it. Buggy couldn't believe it. Did it bring the ship to him? How was he supposed to get onboard? 

The scarecrow seemed to recognize Buggy’s predicament and before he knew it, the scarecrow managed to catch hold of Buggy, bouncing along after the ship. There was a door along the side of it with a set of stairs leading up into it. That was a little confusing to Buggy, was this ship sea worthy to have a door that would no doubt be in the water? He didn’t have much time to dwell on it as the scarecrow was catching up to the ship, bouncing all the way up to the bottom step and releasing Buggy. He wasn’t expecting that, nearly falling backwards in surprise but he managed to grab hold of it. 

When he looked behind, the scarecrow was still following along, but there was no room for it to join him. Buggy gave the scarecrow a half-assed salute, both pleased he had shelter and that he was about to lose the damn scarecrow. “Thanks for the help!”

Laughing, he climbed the steps up to the door and turned the knob. It took a few tries before he was able to finally barge in, stumbling into a darkened room that was below the main deck. He shivered, looking around for anything to warm up with, but to his delight there was a raised up fireplace, open on all sides with a flue above it. There was minimal smoke, the fire was just a small flame upon a log when he approached. Was this safe? He didn’t care, he was soaked to the bone and freezing, so he grabbed a nearby log and set it in the fire before finding a chair to pull up close to it.

“Damn rain, damn witch, damn curse!” He grumbled as he sat down, holding his hands out to the flame, hoping to get some warmth. He was tired, hungry, and all around miserable. “If I ever see her again-”

He stopped talking and sighed. If he saw her again, he didn’t have the faintest idea where to find witches and wizards. For all he knew she could use magic and disappear in an instant, reappearing wherever she wanted. Buggy rubbed his hands together before holding them out to the flame once more. It felt warm but he wished it was hotter. He wanted to warm up before thinking about a nap because he was exhausted. He was wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him because he was certain the flame in the fireplace was looking at him. No, no, fires didn’t have faces.

“That’s quite a curse.” The flame commented as it seemed to lean forward on the fresh log Buggy placed. “You look horrible.” 

“I feel horrible.” Buggy groaned as he closed his eyes, leaning back into his chair. “I need a nap.”

“Y’know, you helped me by giving me a fresh log, maybe I could help you.” The flame chuckled. Buggy opened his eyes and looked at the flame with a frown. Wait, he wasn’t actually asleep yet. He pinched his arm, wondering if he was dreaming, and he pinched himself too hard because he hissed in pain.

The flame was talking to him; conversing rather, looking smug for a little flame burning through a log. Buggy could only stare, wondering if he was about to be cursed again. The flame held a little tendril of fire out to Buggy, a smug look still on its fiery little face.

“How about it, do we have a deal?”

Buggy could only scream in response. 

[loafthecat]

Welcome to fun oc facts with loaf!

I remember doing one for Ollie- so why not do one for another oc of mine I love-? (Might also do more in the future for the other’s too idk-)

Today’s Subject is Mavy or Maverick Johnson- lol-

- Mavy is around 26-27 years old, and by the time of ctm he’s been contained within the ccc for 3 years max.

- current voice claim for mavs is Dogday, (yes the one out of Poppy playtime, sue me-), this goes for both cartoon and bigger bodies dogday as cartoon dogday fits pre-ccc mavy’s voice and bigger body dogday fits in with current Mavy’s voice. (Being more weak and deep? Idk- I still think Mav’s voice would remain gentle-)

- Mav first came from a dream @toxsradioactivelocks explained she had on discord, and I went- “hey- what if I made this character from your dream into a oc-?”, …..and that’s how we got mavy-

- best way to describe Mav would be- tired pessimist. He’s not really rude or mean- he’s just… lost all hope in ever being found or rescued- so much so he’s completely given up the idea of escaping himself- …he’s just so tired….

- he does tend to lose his temper when under a lot of stress…. While it’s hard to get Mav to that point- it’s not advised you push him that far as well- I think trev could tell you exactly what happens when Mav is pushed to his limits.

- dislikes basically everyone in the ccc- (except for one exception) it isn’t personal- he just can’t find himself having sympathy for people who continue to let his torment continue-

- speaking of sympathy, Mav has a lack of sympathy for others. He lost his sense of it over time in the ccc, ESPECIALLY towards the ccc’s employees. If anything bad happens he’s probably just silently watching from his containment cell, besides- what’d he be able to do anyway-?

- dispite all the above, Mav isn’t a angry or shouty person. He displays dislike more akin to how (best comparison) Burt would, which is blunt and quietly, instead of loudly.

- Mavy is a sweet boi- He’s just- not really like that to a majority of the ccc-

- Mav used to be a gov pilot- at least before the ccc. He……he misses his friends….he misses his old partner…….not that any of them probably remember him……

- yeah he has abandonment issues, specifically when it comes to the government and the fact, they haven’t rescued him. (Granted the gov thinks he’s dead but still-)

- ^ the above issue becomes worse after ctm.

- he can’t remember what his own face used to look like, before he turned into his current form.

- depresso espresso

- he eeps a lot-

Abilities:

- Mavy is able to shapeshift thanks to the black goo covering his entire body! Granted, Mav doesn’t become a perfect replica of what he’s trying to turn into, as the goo’s black colouring and his eyes and diamond like spots stay the same. (As seen in the poorly drawn cat at the bottom of post)

- Dispite his ability to shapeshift, mavy struggles to control this ability while under stress. Often if made too overly stressed his form shifts on its own, into something mavy can’t control, a form which makes mavy turn in the best of words- feral.

- mavy doesn’t shapeshift often either. Partly because he doesn’t like to and partly because there’s no point in doing so

- said goop is a result of a package “gifted” to mavy from someone called “gadget gabe”-? (Or maybe it wasn’t…..), It attached to him and now is unremovable from his body, so the change is permanent.

- due to what happened to him, Mavy’s legs are now slightly managled, becoming more akin to a animal’s legs then human legs, because of this Mavy always walks with a limp, although depending on what he’s doing and how fast he’s walking it becomes more or less noticeable.

Relations:

- current mavy isn’t friends with many people. He USED to be close with plenty of people within the government- but in the ccc- not so much-

- he only really has one proper friend in the CCC, Pluto starstick (other oc.) he likes Pluto because well- Pluto is actually just a decent person really- plus- Pluto actually talks to him and has a reason towards why he can’t do anything to stand up against the ccc. <- If I make a post on Pluto I’ll explain that more but for now back to Mavy.

- He’d be close friends with Dave if they met (or when they met.) I feel like they’d just understand eachother well- ESPECIALLY when it comes to the pain they’ve both been through- shared trauma and all!

- weirdly enough, Mavy is the only experiment in the ccc, Trevor will avoid and NOT act cruel too…. Now believe me it isn’t out of care or love or anything. In fact- Trevor actually fears Mavy. Hm, maybe I’ll explain why one day too ;3.

- the last two current relations Mavy has aren’t good ones either- …what..? Mav wasn’t the only gov agent fcked over by the ccc- …..too bad those two old friends are less then friendly now…. Or at least…. One of them certainly aren’t… and the other……. ……what a dirty traitor.

So yeah!!!! There’s all of Mavy’s base info! Feel like I should do more of these to explain each of my thsc ocs more- I’ll probably do one of the ccc gang or maybe trev or Pluto next-

Anyway, enjoy poorly drawn cat mavy!

[a-sad-mage]

TOXZON MY BELOVED

Toxzon, Dr, Tytus Octavius Xander's was royally screwed over by both N-Tek, THI and basically everyone in his life.

[Click for full rant]

The man literally has a mental illness(im not even going to try and figure out what it is, because there are many possibilities). What he needed was support from both his jobs and the people around him, both past and present.

I mean you would think a military base like N-Tek would invest in a psychologist for its operatives to talk to, and THI, after Molly took over, would have encouraged and payed it's employees to seek therapy after what happened with Naught and Dredd.

Because honestly, if I found out my boss was an evil android, and worked for an even more evil guy that lived in the roof, and all the tech that was made was to be used as a siphon to turn people into a power source for the super villain guy in the roof who is effectively immortal(a rant for another day) I would need so much counseling, because WTF I was technically apart of harming so many people!

Also, I blame Molly for Xander's becoming Toxzon.

Like girl, the man was used to not being supervised because of how Naught and Dredd were running the company. Instead of firing the clearly mentally ill man that you yourself acknowledged was talking to a plastic fish, put him on unpayed suspension, have him supervised by someone you trust like an N-Tek scientist. Tell him he needs to seek professional help so he can keep his job.

Not publicly humiliate him by having security drag him out of your office(and the building) as your son and his friends walk in.

And at the very least, if you did have to fire Xander's, have a conversation that lasts more than five minutes about it, even if that means rescheduling with Max and his friends.

Because yeah, he did kinda make a tentacle monster that almost killed and traumatized an intern.

Also, how the hell did Molly not know about the huge lab under the building with toxic waste?

I'm just-

I'm not saying Molly deserved what happened to her when Toxzon infected and mutated her in 'The Secret Admirer', but like it could have been avoided.

On top of that, Fishy is clearly the evil one here. That bow tie, top hat wearing, uneven eyed, plastic fish is straight up the inner most, and quit frankly most toxic thoughts and traits of Xander's personified.

In 'Gone Fishin' Toxzon pollutes the whole damn ocean just to get Fishy back, and the moment he does, and sucked up all the contamination, it's Fishy that's like 'use that goop to kill some mofos', the thought did not cross his mind till Fishy was back with him.

I am willing to bet Fishy is the reason why he keeps making such destructive choices.

Now I'm not going to sit here and make a diagnosis, I'm not a doctor, but from everything I understand, my beloved mad scientist/eco-terrorist needs counseling, and needed it from a young age, but never got it.

According to the MaxSteel(2013) section of the FandomWiki, he is canonically 33 years old, and if we're assuming the show takes place is 2012 as according to the date of issue on Max’s drivers licens, Toxzon was born in around the 1980's. And back then, mental health wasn't taken seriously. And because Xander's was a bright kid, since you know the guys a freaking genius, it was most likely overlooked as a 'smart kid' thing. See Seldon from BBT & YS.

He was failed, by pretty much everyone in his life.

And much like the Decepticons from Transformers, Dr. Tytus Octavius Xander's became the villain people saw him as and not the misunderstood man that just needed professional help and a friend.

And I will forever defend him.

Jason Naught, Miles Dredd, and Troy Winter's can all kick rocks because they are genuinely bad people who take pleasure is hurting others and taking advantage of people.

Two of these three actually sided with an alien race that was going to consume the earth killing every living being on it and the other committed identity theft, and that's not a joke.

{@treeships, because you so kindly listened}

[seas1mping]

Haha my phone auto corrects Candy and Pop to be capitalized because I talk about him so much isn't that so funny

Anyway time to talk about him in relation to Reena because they're my sillies but it's under a cut womp womp there's also art uh cw for like minor blood (it's in pen so it just looks like goop)

I know Candy Pop grown is absolutely hideous but I was rushed for time at the end of 3rd period so I did what I could :(

Anyways time to talk about them hehe

First of all, Candy Pop is such a damn crybaby I cannot deny it

Bro gets a cut on his leg and CRIES so hard

"Oh no, Candy, looks really bad."

"WHAT?!?!??!?"

"Yeah we might have to amputate, I should get Mom."

That's okay because when they get old, since NT has regenerative powers (my hc I don't know if it's canon) he can stroll in with broken bones (tears still in his eyes, the crybaby part never goes away)

"Hey, Reena, I broke my arm."

"CANDY POP WE NEED TO GET YOU TO A MEDICAL CENTER."

"yeah we might have to amputate"

"... I said I was sorry for that.."

He's definitely thrown Reena before both jokingly and not

Also

AuDHD / AuDHD duo supremacy

Good lord they bounce off each other with behaviors and stims it's insane.

One time Reena would have a snapping stim and she eventually stopped, only for Candy to start doing it two days later

He still has it.

Imagine if you met your best friend and then you guys found out you would have a sleepover for the foreseeable future

After Candy's parents were murdered mysteriously vanished when he was little, he and Reena got to hang out all the time because he lived at the castle with her.

So they had the same schedule basically just different stuff filling it

Reena would have her princess classes

Candy would research jester tricks and learn how to juggle (his special interest to me <3 his PB for juggling is 10 balls and a sword, yes he did end up stabbing through his hand)

Candy would go to school and learn cool historical events about Down Below

Reena would write down recipes over and over again until she could recite it to her mom that night at dinner and then make it with (almost) no mistakes (her special interest to me <3)

When they reunited when they were both adults after everything that happened to both of them (Reena with her ex husband, Candy with NT) they were basically inseparable

Even thought Candy Pop was a married man now, with a daughter no less, when they first got back to each other, he can't deny he hadn't felt that happy to see someone since he left the castle in the first place.

Reena remembers looking up at the sky from her bedroom window and praying to any of the deities out there that he was safe and okay, and that one day he would come back to her.

There's no romantic feelings between them anymore, they used to be really close like that and they definitely stole each other's first kisses or first dance, etc, but that's behind them now and all they want to do is enjoy each other's company after almost 300 years apart.

Anyways tldr I love them sm

[intotheelliwoods]

Woah lots of asks! Augh you guys got such good questions!

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That happened when Medium Leo was 26, and Big Leo 50! They got an extra 10 years after the movie to just, relax, honestly? Those were probably some of the best years of their lives

Then well, after that I think it only took about a month (as in they left a few days later after Raphs death to venture off to the horrors)

After that, 20 years of the newfound apocalypse, leaving Medium Leo at 46 when he gets sent back in time!

(and auguoahg ty wren you are amazing!)

@wraenata

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No he does not! Each timeline has its own goop fella, the one in the Krang timeline remained traped through the apocalypse and will probably never actually break free in that time-

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Yeah... :( Big Leo, the saddest character to ever exist. He tried his best he really did, but in the end though I dont think people will remember him for his failures. They will remember him for his kindness and effort

@memorialis

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Funny story, I do have a backstory for the guy in mind! A good one actually, I was going to make a comic for the backstory but I have no clue how to make it look visually? And I am also not sure if I am going to have the energy for it with everything else going on whoops, I might just type it out in text form by the end of the week to save my strength for everything else I need to draw aha...

But back to your first question, yes, they are intertwined! Very much so actually! The goop has a lot to do with the Krang and their similar trap!

As for your second ask here, nope! Well, yes and no? Hamatos are involved in the backstory but not involved in the freeing half- Anyways though, after that last update and the potential of some later nightmare sequences, that will be the last you see of the guy until the finale! In other words, not really any more lore for him! Again I have a backstory just not much energy to actually draw it! And by this point in time, the backstory is not even really spoilery, its just neat worldbuilding at this point :)

He/Him pronouns be good, or they, honestly the thing jsut has big he/they energy overall tbh

@amazing-captain-castiel (if I worded this weird I am so sorry, I answered your first question before going back realizing oh shoot you sent another ask aha-)

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Haha.. yeah.. yeah he does... (im so sorry, I would do something about this but I can barely keep track of 2 huggy leos)

Though in compensation he did have a relatively nice rest of life. This is also something I sooo wanted to make a comic for but I dont know if I will have the energy for it whoops

He found being in a apocalypse again relatively, surprisingly comforting. Felt like home, his old home, his first home, his own timeline. He thrived in this newfound worldly chaos for years until about 5 years before Medium Leo got sent back, where he ended up leaving the home base they set up with his mother, to explore what was left of the world before that was gone too. This was due to just some good deja vu but well, younger turtles, Medium Leo never stopped looking more and more like someone who would never come back so-

@cavern-of-shenanigans

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yeah.... oops. But Sprout is alive and well🥺At least he will be well by the end of the series-

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<3 uhhhhhh oops <3

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Sweats, theres so much inspo pulled from FMA here my guy!

@cavern-of-shenanigans

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o7