#absolute pustulent ass

[laurelindebear]

Oh good I've hit the 'I hate my characters, I hate my story, I have to change the entire plot because otherwise I'm forcing my character to accept the Christian god, there's no way these people would fall in love, the timelines make no sense, this character can't be French because their worldview is fundamentally different, and the family situation falls apart unless you add a much bigger conflict or rift than you currently have or want' stage of proceedings.

If anyone wants a few garbage paragraphs to try build something even vaguely worthwhile out of, just check my recycling bin before I delete it all.

[once-was-muses]

Talbot has undergone a number of mutations due to his prolonged and frequent use of the serum. Most visually notable are the numerous disfigurements; the soft tissue of his lips, nose, and ears sloughed off of his head- his lower jaw all but dissolved and split, turning into a gaping maw- his spine is permanently hunched- his skin is leathery in places, scaly in others, all over more akin to something dead rather than alive. Those with keen eyes may even notice pustules of serum blistering across his body, typically hidden by his cloak but this covering often slides during trials.

It is similarly almost exclusively during trials that another mutation is revealed. More specifically, the awful growths which (more or less) symmetrically sprout from Talbot’s bent back, four on either side of his spine. While they have the same pallid, leathery complexion as Talbot’s skin at their bases, the masses abruptly darken in color and harden only a few centimeters up. They grow out at an angle from Talbot's spine for approximately four inches, before turning downward in an apparent joint of sorts and contonuing for another 3 inches or so, reminiscent of the Entity’s own limbs- albeit in miniature form. They possess limited, rudimentary movement, at most able to simply twitch or writhe in response to stimuli.

However, Talbot has discovered and refined a compound which causes these proto-limbs to grow exponentially, reaching several feet in length and gaining significant mobility and strength. It is in this form that the unfortunate survivors are most familiar with these particular features, powerful enough to lift Talbot from his feet and carry him at high speeds, rebounding off walls to launch him at them for a deathly pounce.

But only a select, unlucky few are aware of at least one of the internal deformities Talbot suffers. One could easily argue it's perhaps the most gruesome of all. Within his lungs and occasionally even esophagus, small polyps of the pustula plants sprout and begin to grow in length, with the only direction to go being up and out. Talbot has no choice but to wait for these vile things to push themselves up his throat and out of his maw, choking amd suffocating him in the process, reaching a length that he can grab hold of them and rip them free. It is every bit as excruciating as it sounds. Talbot has no idea how to even begin to stop the cycle from continuing. Any and all forms of his precious serum only encourage the growths, and the Entity's own annual blighting sends them into overdrive- only a piece of how the event effects Talbot directly.

[ This is my explicit disclaimer that I absolutely hate Talbot’s power in game. It makes absolutely no sense, both from a functionality standpoint and how tf it has anything to do with his character/lore. Fuck you bhvr, I’m giving him a power that is so much better in every way kiss my ass. ]

[ a mock-wiki description of this rework is below the cut for anyone interested ]

Power: Blighted Corruption

The Blight starts the Trial with 5 Tokens. 

Special Ability: Blighted Limbs

One of the many mutations the Blight has undergone due to the serum, eight growths reminiscent of the Entity’s own limbs have sprouted from the killer's back. Activating Blighted Corruption (which uses 1 token) forces these growths to sprout into arachnid legs which carry and propel the Blight forward for a time.

Special Interaction: Slam

A Slam is performed by propelling the Blight into an obstacle. The result differs depending on the type of obstacle hit.

Pallet or breakable wall: the Blight destroys these obstacles upon contact, but loses 1 token.

Window: the Blight vaults through the window at an increased rate, but loses 1 token.

Survivor: the Blight “trips” and is stunned, losing all momentum and tokens, putting the ability into cooldown.

Solid wall: the Blight ricochets off, using the Blighted Limbs to briefly grab hold and adjust trajectory before propelling himself forward again. He loses 1 token.

Special Attack: Lethal Slam

After ricocheting off a solid wall, the Blight is able to quickly readjust to be prepared for attack. The Blight must then perform a Slam into a Survivor, pouncing upon them and putting them in the dying state. The Blight may use his remaining tokens to ricochet after the initial impact with a solid wall to attempt better positioning for greater chance of hitting his target, but must keep in mind every time he propels off the wall he loses a token. Successfully hitting a survivor with a Lethal Slam stops the Blight in his tracks, putting the ability in cooldown and subsequently recharge.

Fatigue

When either “tripping,” the final Lethal Slam is performed with no remaining tokens, the Blight doesn’t propel himself off a solid wall in time, or the Blight successfully pounces on a survivor, he enters the Fatigue state and begins recharging tokens. His movement speed is slowed until the first two tokens are fully recharged, but is still capable of normal killer interactions (i.e. basic attacks, picking up/hooking survivors.)

[who-is-muses]

Talbot has undergone a number of mutations due to his prolonged and frequent use of the serum. Most visually notable are the numerous disfigurements; the soft tissue of his lips, nose, and ears sloughed off of his head- his lower jaw all but dissolved and split, turning into a gaping maw- his spine is permanently hunched- his skin is leathery in places, scaly in others, all over more akin to something dead rather than alive. Those with keen eyes may even notice pustules of serum blistering across his body, typically hidden by his cloak but this covering often slides during trials.

It is similarly almost exclusively during trials that another mutation is revealed. More specifically, the awful growths which (more or less) symmetrically sprout from Talbot’s bent back, four on either side of his spine. While they have the same pallid, leathery complexion as Talbot’s skin at their bases, the masses abruptly darken in color and harden only a few centimeters up. They grow out at an angle from Talbot's spine for approximately four inches, before turning downward in an apparent joint of sorts and contonuing for another 3 inches or so, reminiscent of the Entity’s own limbs- albeit in miniature form. They possess limited, rudimentary movement, at most able to simply twitch or writhe in response to stimuli.

However, Talbot has discovered and refined a compound which causes these proto-limbs to grow exponentially, reaching several feet in length and gaining significant mobility and strength. It is in this form that the unfortunate survivors are most familiar with these particular features, powerful enough to lift Talbot from his feet and carry him at high speeds, rebounding off walls to launch him at them for a deathly pounce.

But only a select, unlucky few are aware of at least one of the internal deformities Talbot suffers. One could easily argue it's perhaps the most gruesome of all. Within his lungs and occasionally even esophagus, small polyps of the pustula plants sprout and begin to grow in length, with the only direction to go being up and out. Talbot has no choice but to wait for these vile things to push themselves up his throat and out of his maw, choking amd suffocating him in the process, reaching a length that he can grab hold of them and rip them free. It is every bit as excruciating as it sounds. Talbot has no idea how to even begin to stop the cycle from continuing. Any and all forms of his precious serum only encourage the growths, and the Entity's own annual blighting sends them into overdrive- only a piece of how the event effects Talbot directly.

[ This is my explicit disclaimer that I absolutely hate Talbot’s power in game. It makes absolutely no sense, both from a functionality standpoint and how tf it has anything to do with his character/lore. Fuck you bhvr, I’m giving him a power that is so much better in every way kiss my ass. ]

[ a mock-wiki description of this rework is below the cut for anyone interested ]

Power: Blighted Corruption

The Blight starts the Trial with 5 Tokens. 

Special Ability: Blighted Limbs

One of the many mutations the Blight has undergone due to the serum, eight growths reminiscent of the Entity’s own limbs have sprouted from the killer's back. Activating Blighted Corruption (which uses 1 token) forces these growths to sprout into arachnid legs which carry and propel the Blight forward for a time.

Special Interaction: Slam

A Slam is performed by propelling the Blight into an obstacle. The result differs depending on the type of obstacle hit.

Pallet or breakable wall: the Blight destroys these obstacles upon contact, but loses 1 token.

Window: the Blight vaults through the window at an increased rate, but loses 1 token.

Survivor: the Blight “trips” and is stunned, losing all momentum and tokens, putting the ability into cooldown.

Solid wall: the Blight ricochets off, using the Blighted Limbs to briefly grab hold and adjust trajectory before propelling himself forward again. He loses 1 token.

Special Attack: Lethal Slam

After ricocheting off a solid wall, the Blight is able to quickly readjust to be prepared for attack. The Blight must then perform a Slam into a Survivor, pouncing upon them and putting them in the dying state. The Blight may use his remaining tokens to ricochet after the initial impact with a solid wall to attempt better positioning for greater chance of hitting his target, but must keep in mind every time he propels off the wall he loses a token. Successfully hitting a survivor with a Lethal Slam stops the Blight in his tracks, putting the ability in cooldown and subsequently recharge.

Fatigue

When either “tripping,” the final Lethal Slam is performed with no remaining tokens, the Blight doesn’t propel himself off a solid wall in time, or the Blight successfully pounces on a survivor, he enters the Fatigue state and begins recharging tokens. His movement speed is slowed until the first two tokens are fully recharged, but is still capable of normal killer interactions (i.e. basic attacks, picking up/hooking survivors.)

[brutal-nemesis]

Forest Day 2021: Un-cursing a Forest Tutorial (Gone Wrong)

Come into the woods with me, won’t you? I promise everything will be super normal and it’s totally not a little over 5k words hahahahahaha

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: cannibalism mention, plant/animal/body horror (there is a lot of this and it is weird and kind of gross at times so this is your warning), acid burns, i use the word “pustules” multiple times, eye whump, gore, suicide for convenience

Castys woke up to darkness.

His head was pounding, so it was sort of nice, but much less nice when he tried to move and discovered his arms were tied behind his back. Upon further investigation, he realized he was gagged and blindfolded as well. 

Great.

He sat up and was just starting to try and get his gag out using his shoulder when a pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He tried to jerk out of their grasp, but a second person grabbed his other arm, and then it was all he could do to keep up as they hauled him to wherever. The ground changed from something solid feeling to something dirt-sounding, and then solid again after the creak of a door opening. 

“He’s awake, Chief.”

“Thank you. Just leave him and wait outside.” One of the men kicked the back of Castys’s legs, forcing him to his knees. He was tempted to get up once he felt their hands leave him, but he figured it would be best to just wait and see what the hell was going on for now. Once the blindfold was removed, he tried to look around, but a rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at his captor, a strong looking woman with her dark hair in a complicated braid. She examined him with concern. “I didn’t think you would look this young.” Her free hand untied the gag, and she gently pulled it out of his mouth. “You are him, and not just some child, right?”

“Nope, just a child. A nineteen year old boy. Not immortal, so I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never said I was looking for an immortal.”

Castys opened and closed his mouth a few times, blinking. “I-okay that one’s on me. Hooray, you caught me.” He glared up at her. “Now what do you want?”

She let go of him, stepping back and crossing her arms. “I am Citlali, the chief of Nauhiliv’s Hollow. For centuries, my people have-”

“I’m not really in the mood for a history lesson, so just get to the-”

“Either shut up and let me talk or I will gag you again.” Castys rolled his eyes. “I promise it’s relevant, alright?”

“Fine.”

Citlali took a deep breath and began again. “For centuries, the people of Nauhiliv’s Hollow have lived as one with the forest, taking only what we need from its bounty, hunting and gathering from the lands around us. But now,” she looked away, “now the forest is...twisted. What was once a familiar place has become dark and horrifying, and they are now far too dangerous to hunt in. Everyone we have sent in to find the source of the curse has not yet returned.” She took a shuddering breath before looking back at Castys. “You, however, can’t die. So would you-”

“How much will you pay me?”

“Just...this.” She held up a small leather pouch, one that looked kind of like...Castys hurriedly looked down, feeling his stomach twist when he didn’t see the familiar string around his neck.

“You took my-give it back! How did you even find out about that?!” Castys fought to keep his voice even, his fists clenched behind him. That pouch was important to him, it had his rock that allowed him to kill himself easily and painlessly, and it also had...he just needed it, dammit.

“You’re apparently, ah, quite chatty when you’re drunk.” She twirled the pouch on her finger lazily. “So, if you lift the forest’s curse, you’ll get it back. And until then, my other half is going to keep it safe in a pocket dimension, where even a notorious thief like you can’t get to it.”

Castys’s face darkened. “That’s-if you wanted me to help you why didn’t you just, I don’t know, ask instead of fucking kidnapping me and stealing my shit?”

“Because I’ve heard tell that you’re a selfish asshole who definitely wouldn’t help us unless we paid you a ton of money or forced you to. And since we’re not exactly drowning in cash…”

Castys mulled it over for a moment, wiggling his hands against the ropes. “Yeah okay that’s fair. I still hate you, but that’s fair.”

Citlali rolled her eyes. “Are you going to do it, then? Because if not,” she stalked over and grabbed Castys’s chin tightly, forcing him to look up at her, “I could think of a different way you could help my people, immortal.”

“I promise you, I taste terrible.” Citlali flinched back, letting go of Castys’s face.

“What-no that isn’t-I meant I was going to sell you, idiot! That’s so-we’re nowhere near desperate enough to eat…” she shook her head. 

“Okay, sorry, I figured if you were desperate enough to kidnap me you were also desperate enough to want to eat me and my infinite flesh.”

“Those two are absolutely not the same level of-look, are you going to do it or not? Because if not I will sell you and keep your precious-” 

“I’ll go kill your stupid forest curse thing,” Castys sighed. “Being sold is super annoying, and escaping will be way harder without my rock.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Can you untie me now?” 

“Do you promise not to try to run off? You won’t be able to get your pouch back by force, and this village is surrounded by these cursed woods except for a single, well guarded road, so there really won’t be any point in trying, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Castys got to his feet after she freed him, rubbing his chafed wrists as he looked down at his very empty belt. “You’re going to give me my sword back for this, right? I know I can’t die but fuck if I’m going in there without a weapon.”

“You can have your sword, and the small amount of supplies we can spare, once the sun rises and you set out. Until then,” she gestured to the door, “let Tlaloc and Meztli show you where you can sleep.” 

~~~

Castys took a deep breath as he looked up at the trees towering over him, gripping his pack tightly. They looked like normal trees to him, and he was sort of disappointed that they didn’t look...creepier? He expected this horrible cursed forest to look more horrible and cursed, especially with all the trouble that bitch went through to make him do this. He glanced back, but Citlali and the guards were still behind him, and she waved her hand at him to get going. Sighing, he started walking into the forest, hoping this whole “curse” thing was just some asshole wizard kids playing a trick. 

Soon enough, he spaced out listening to the forest sounds. The rustling of the wind in the branches, the chirping of birds, the faint screaming...wait what. No, yeah that was screaming or something. He looked around frantically for the source of it, just now noticing that the trees were...different, somehow. They sort of...shimmered, moving in a strange way. Cautiously, he approached the nearest trunk and studied it. It was...it was moving, the whole surface shifting and crawling, like it was covered completely in bugs. O-kay then. 

Moving on.

Castys wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to look for. That chief lady had really just sent him in here with the very helpful instruction of “fix it”, like he had ever un-cursed a forest before. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or...where he even was. He’d been trying to walk in a straight line, but the way behind him looked unfamiliar, as if the trees and plants had decided to move around while he wasn’t looking. Well, it appeared that wandering aimlessly was his only option now. Delightful.

Maybe he should do something as he walked along to help pass the time. Not that he didn’t mind walking around in nature, this place was just...he pulled out his rekara, twirling it between his fingers for a moment before putting it to his lips and blowing, tapping his fingers on the slender instrument’s holes to play a stupid little tune. It covered up the faint screaming sound quite nicely, and it eventually attracted a little bird, which fluttered down on a nearby branch. It was a very normal-looking one, with plain brown feathers and cute lil’ eyes.

When it opened its mouth to chirp at him, though, another scream rang out through the forest, so loud it sounded like it was coming from right next to Castys. Startled, he jumped a bit, stumbling back and tripping over a tree root or something, falling right on his ass. Frantically, he looked around for the source of the scream, but there was no one around him, as far as he could tell. “Anyone screaming out there?!” he called as he stood up, but he was met with silence. Well, not silence silence but just...nothing un-ambient. Maybe the trees were screaming. It could be a tree thing. 

The bird was still sitting there staring at him, and oh my fuck it’s the bird isn’t it-again, the bird opened its beak, and again, a horrible scream echoed around him. Well wasn’t that nice. A bird that screamed like a person. Castys slowly backed away, hoping the little thing’s only weird quality was the noise it made. Once he felt like he’d gotten far enough away, he turned and ran, and he was only running to cover more ground quickly, not because he was scared, no, a little unsettled, maybe, but not scared. 

He stopped to catch his breath after a few minutes, and as he stood there panting, he realized the forest around him had grown even more...strange. The trees actively waved in the air now, though there was no wind, and many of their branches hung limp, like they were made of cloth or something and not solid wood. Their bark still glistened and crawled, swirling into strange, mesmerizing patterns. The leaves of all the plants were different now, too, having taken on a sickly pink color, almost like...light-colored skin. Tasty.

Okay, yeah, something was obviously very wrong and cursed here, but he still had no clue what the fuck to do about it. He’s been hoping he could find...he didn’t know, something that looked like the source of it, like a very giant tree with a hole in it or perhaps a big magic crystal or an evil bear. But all around him were just normal sized haunted trees and no crystals and weird greenish mold and all the plants with their gross fleshy leaves-wait that mold or whatever was new. He crouched down and pulled out his knife so he could poke at it.

Upon closer inspection, it was like...little green pustules clustered together on the surface of the shifting tree bark. He used the tip of his knife to prod one of them, but it burst far more easily than he had been expecting, splattering greenish goop all over his hand, and it burned. Crying out, he dropped his knife and looked frantically around for water or something he could use to get this awful stuff off because dying wouldn’t make it go away so until he got rid of it somehow he was just stuck feeling it burn away his fucking flesh but there wasn’t anything here besides plants and more plants so it looks like that was all he was going to get-

With shaking hands, he grabbed a nearby leaf, shuddering at the fleshlike texture, the warmth, and wiped it desperately over his wounds, trying to scrape away the acidic sludge. It sort of worked, getting the larger clumps off, but he could still feel it eating his damn flesh, if only he had-wait he was a fucking idiot-he pulled out the waterskin Citlali had lent him, sloppily splashing water over his hand, gasping in relief as the pain lessened slightly. Obviously nothing was going to heal the wounds besides dying, but now he could actually do that without the acid continuing to burn him. He reached down into his shirt, feeling for the pouch containing his death rock, but...no, that’s right, he didn’t have it, he’d have to slit his throat like old times. Sighing, he wiped the acid goop off of his knife before turning it on himself.

Castys woke up very pleased to find that his hand no longer had holes in it, but when he saw the leaves he had wiped it on, his stomach twisted. The acid had burned right through them, and the holes were rimmed with red, dripping...it was blood, blood leaking from those fleshlike leaves. Quickly, Castys wiped off his knife and sheathed it, getting to his feet, ready to run the fuck away from those gross acid pustules. But...maybe it was a good sign that things were getting weirder, maybe he was getting closer to whatever the hell the source of all this was. So maybe he should…follow that stuff. It was the only sort of idea on where to go he had gotten this whole time, so it really was his only option, huh? He’d just have to be careful not to touch it. 

The streaks of green on the swirling tree trunks, which had darkened to a shiny black at some point, led him, allegedly, deeper into the forest. Wait, how was the green stuff staying in one spot while the trunk beneath it was shifting? That didn’t make any sense, not like anything did here, but still…physics. He studied the nearest tree for a moment, watching its surface move as the clump of acid bubble things stayed still. Though...he could see something between the cracks in the crawling trunk, something long and off-white, like...yup. Trees with bones. Lovely. Shaking his head, Castys resumed walking, deciding to just not question anything ever again. 

Things certainly got stranger as he continued. There was a pond where his reflection didn’t have a face, dragonflies with wings that looked like overgrown fingernails, and a herd of deer with skin and muscle so clear that all he could see were their organs and bones okay but what would clear deer meat taste like, so he felt like he was probably going the right way. When he heard a strange thumping sound, like something large walking around, he cautiously moved towards the source of it, poking his head out from behind a tree to see what it was. 

It was the ugliest, most disgusting horrible abomination creature thing he had ever seen. It’s main body was the same light fleshy color as the leaves, dotted with clumps of acid pustules, with a mishmash of vaguely humanoid limbs with all sorts of skin tones jutting out of its misshapen body every which way. And it had so many eyes all over, some frantically darting around, some focused horrifyingly on him. But the worst part were all the flowers sprouting it from it, not because they were flowers, but because these flowers had little white teeth in their centers, probably serving as the mouths for this thing since he didn’t see one anywhere else on it. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind cutting this thing to bits in the slightest, it was freaky. He stepped out and drew his sword, watching the monster warily as it shambled towards him. If this thing wasn’t the source of the curse, he didn’t know what would be.

Once it was within range, Castys slashed at it, wincing as a high pitched shriek rang out from one of the flower-mouths. He danced back as it swung at him with two of its arms, their hands reaching out to grab him. This kept on for a bit, him slashing at the monster and dodging its blows, though he’d occasionally make the mistake of slicing a clump of acid pustules, spraying himself with the corrosive substance. When he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he noticed something...unfortunate. All the gashes he’d cut in the monster were slowly closing, healing that thing up like his attacks hadn’t even happened. He, on the other hand, was covered in acid burns and not sure how much longer he’d actually be faster than this thing. His healing was useless in a fight, since dying left him completely defenseless for a good minute or so.

He had to figure something else out some other-shit, he couldn’t stand still for very long, this monster just wouldn’t quit attacking him. He might have been safe in a tree, but all the ones in the area were pretty much completely covered in that acid stuff, so that was out of the question. Seeing an opening, he lunged, trying to stab one of those fucked up mouths, and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief as his blade sank in, knocking out some of its teeth. But his elation turned to fear as he felt something grab his ankle the same moment the mouth clamped shut around his sword. He tried his best to keep his grip on his sword as it yanked him up, but it slipped through his fingers, leaving him defenseless as the monster slammed him down onto the ground, his whole body lighting up in pain. 

Over and over, it smashed his body against the ground with inhuman strength. All Castys could do was scream as he felt his bones break, their sharp edges piercing him from the inside. To finish, it threw him against one of the trees, the impact of his body bursting a myriad of acid pustules open, drenching him in the stuff. Castys fell to the ground in a heap, sucking in pained breaths beneath his shattered ribs, and all he could do was helplessly watch through his one good eye, the other reduced to goop by the acid, as the monster raised a foot above him. His mind was screaming at him to go, to run, but he could hardly move, he should just let himself die so he could heal, but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to just lie still and let this thing step on him, slowly building up the pressure on his already ruined ribcage, forcing ragged screams out of his acid-burned throat, he was going to be crushed but he didn’t want to be, g-get off please it hurts so much why do I have to do this it’s not fair I didn’t even do anything wrong this time please-

Castys came back to pain, sparking, burning agony soaking deep into his flesh. He was still covered in acid, and even with his bones intact now he could barely bring himself to move. But he had to, he had to get up, he had to kill this thing, had to get out of this awful place himself, because there was no other way out, because no one was going to come save him, not now, not ever. Just as he was psyching himself up to try and stand, the monster’s hands grabbed him all over, dragging him off the ground. He tried to squirm out of its grasp, and while it had too many damn hands and he had too many damn acid burns for this to actually be effective, he struggled anyway. As it lowered him towards one of its flower mouths, he tried to at least scream expletives at it, but of course he’d still had acid in his throat when he died so he couldn’t even relish the simple joy of yelling “fuck”.

What would happen to him if this gross monster ate him whole, he didn’t want to find out, but it seemed like he was going to if he didn’t break free. Castys shuddered as the mouth opened wide, wider, impossibly wide, showing off an unnecessary amount of wicked sharp teeth, and oh fuck they were a lot closer to him than he’d thought because his damn left eye was a corroded mess again and all of a sudden there were teeth tearing through his flesh and he was falling, falling into that horrible mouth surrounded by bright purple petals, pointed teeth digging into him, but he felt something, he felt something, hard and rough, and maybe it was his sword, and he could still kill this thing, so he wrapped his burned hand around it, fingers screaming in protest, and pulled, and as much as it hurt, as much as his sword was stuck, he wasn’t going to lose here.

His sword finally broke free with a disgusting squelch, though it felt a lot lighter than he remembered, and just as he pulled it out, the monster collapsed to the ground. Castys somehow managed to worm his tattered body out of the creature’s mouth, and once he was free, he held up his sword so he could stab himself with it, but discovered the object he was holding was very much not his sword. It was a strange wooden carving of a twisted tree, like ones surrounding him, a small bone fitted so snugly inside that it was almost as if the wood had grown around it. Was this...the source of everything? It was the most curse-causing looking thing he’d seen so far, and given that it seemed to be the core of that monster...oh, it was starting to grow flesh. Oh absolutely not.

Castys looked around frantically for his sword, his dagger, anything to break this talisman thing with. The first thing that caught his eye within reach was an unfamiliar axe, but he lunged for it, wishing he had time to kill himself and reset his body’s condition, but there was no telling how much this thing would grow while he was out. If he wanted a chance at ending this for good, he had to do it now. He rasped in pain as he dragged himself upright, grabbing the axe with blood-slicked fingers before he set the cursed object down and swung, crying out brokenly in pain and frustration. After a few clumsy whacks, the talisman broke in two, and the flesh bubbling out of it ceased moving. Was...was it over? It had to be. It had to be. It had to-

Head spinning, Castys fell sideways, the vision in his functional eye starting to blur. He knew he needed...to die...but he just...didn’t have...the...strength…

It was warm...comfortable...but it hurt, and...everything was...itchy. But still, so warm, and that was pleasant, and he found himself leaning into it. It was almost like...

Castys jolted awake, his eye snapping open. He was inside some building, the wooden ceiling above him lit by rippling firelight, in what felt like a bed, his whole body throbbing fiercely, and there was...a hand on his forehead. A hand attached to the village chief, Citlali, who was looking at him with concern. Her face broke into a relieved smile when she saw he was conscious, despite him flinching away from her touch. “So, our hero is finally awake.”

“I-” Castys tried to speak, but his throat was still severely fucked up, in fact, his whole body was. He hadn’t fucking died since he’d passed out, and these idiots didn’t know how his immortality worked, so they’d actually bandaged him up. The feeling of them was totally foreign, if not a little nostalgic. God, he must have looked fucking awful when they found him. He hoped it would make them think twice about kidnapping people to do their dirty work in the future. 

“Don’t try to speak; your throat is quite badly damaged. Do you want something to write on?” Castys nodded, and she fetched him a wooden tablet and a stick of charcoal. He considered writing something on the angrier side, but seeing as he still didn’t have his pouch back, and that she had tried to help him...he should probably play nice. He was too tired for any more fighting, anyway.

“If you’d just kill me so I can heal that would be great.” Pausing, he decided he should probably explain that a bit better. “Every time I die I come back to life fully healed. And the most convenient way for me to die is to touch my rock, which I believe I’ve earned back. Unless the forest is still wonky.”

“No, you did break the curse, and I want to thank you for that, because obviously it wasn’t easy. I-” she cut herself off. “First things first, let’s get you healed for good.” She furrowed her brow. “Will healing with these bandages on...mess it up somehow? Some of them might be a little...stuck to your wounds. Should I take them off of you first?” Castys considered it for a moment. He’d never tried to heal with bandages on, but if things went wrong...it might be more painful to have to cut them out of his flesh or whatever. He nodded, holding out an arm.

Citlali was gentle as she unwound the bandages with practiced skill, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell. It felt like she was ripping his damn skin off, and every time his idiot body tried to scream in pain, it tore up his throat even further, making the whole affair even more damnably unpleasant. He could hardly stand to look at the wounds underneath, all pink and red and oozing what he assumed was pus. The worst part, however, was when she removed the bandage from around the remains of his left eye and it pulled a little string of bloody flesh off with it. He screamed at that, really screamed, and he realized he was crying, and he didn’t understand how mortals did this all the time. Citlali didn’t so much as flinch at the gore, the smell, or his pain, and he almost felt embarrassed about how poorly he was handling this.

When she was done, she retrieved his pouch from a nearby table, giving it to him wordlessly. With shaking hands, Castys managed to pull it open and stick a finger inside, sighing in relief as the familiar blackness took him. When he woke up, he was happy to find that there wasn’t any more acid on him, so he was actually fully healed this time. “Thanks,” he muttered, flexing his hands.

“Thank you, you really saved us. I...I know you were forced to, and I know that I shouldn’t have done it that way, but I felt like we didn’t have any other option, and-”

“It’s fine,” Castys sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “That shit was pretty fucked up so I’m not really surprised all the mortals you sent in died. And it’s not like I’m known for my benevolence.” He put the pouch around his neck, where it thumped against his bare chest. “So, did my clothes-”

Citlali shook her head. “They were full of holes and covered in acid, so we asked around and got you a spare set.” She handed him a folded shirt that was similar in style to the pants he’d been wearing when he woke up, and he pulled it on. She handed him the rest of his belongings before picking up the pieces of the wooden carving that he’d destroyed. “Where...where did you find this?” 

“Inside the freaky monster with all the limbs and shit.”

“The what.”

“Was its giant corpse not near where you found me?”

“There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary there besides this and some of the weapons and equipment from our lost expedition parties.” She put it down, standing and crossing her arms. “We all felt the shift in the forest when the curse was lifted, and when we went out to investigate, everything seemed just like it had before all of this started. We found you collapsed in a clearing not too far from here.”

“Not too-I feel like I wandered around for hours! Stupid cursed forest.”

Citlali huffed. “Regardless, we found the talisman next to you, but no monster. But if this was what caused everything…” She picked up one of the pieces, gripping it tightly. “I think I understand what happened.”

“That’s great for you, don’t let it happen again.” Castys stood, shouldering his pack. “I...I can leave now, right?”

She looked up abruptly. “Oh, uh, yes, though you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and we were thinking of holding a feast once we-” she stopped, clearing her throat. “We’d like to make it up to you in any way you can, but I understand if you’d like to leave. I’ll walk you out.”

Part of Castys wanted to stay and get a bunch of free food out of these people, or at least actual compensation for the ordeal he just went through, but he didn’t know if he could stand to be surrounded by these woods for much longer, despite the fact that they were allegedly no longer cursed. He couldn’t fight the nervous feeling in his stomach as walked away, his steps quickening once he and Citlali parted ways. He didn’t really relax until he had left the forest far behind him. 

Once he was safe, Castys opened his pouch and reached inside, worming his finger into the secret side pocket that was separated from the rock. He gently pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it and sighing in relief upon seeing the drawing on it still intact. Not that he’d expected anything to happen to it, but…The memory of the first day of his life, at least that he was aware of, was far more precious than anything else.

Because if he lost it, if he lost that spark of happiness, that piece of who he was that day, he felt like he would collapse under the weight of every awful thing he’d endured ever since.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch

[hellpark]

GREGORY: Just why the hell are we going back into town?!

ESTELLA: How many times do I need to tell you, you sun-dried scab off a decrepit man’s back?

ESTELLA: We need to devise a plan.

ESTELLA: What you did back there was foolish, unthought, and I’m fairly surprised nobody has you at the end of a pitch fork yet.

GREGORY: Oh, so you can try and throw a couple of joe-soap victims off a bridge, but chasing after them is just too out of line, is it?

ESTELLA: Perhaps chasing them would be fine, if you hadn’t crushed everything in your path to get to them; you rough, low hanging moose testicle.

ESTELLA: My ways would have been efficient-- quick and to the point-- but somebody had to make a grand show today, didn’t they?

ESTELLA: Had fun running around doing whatever you wanted, didn’t you.

GREGORY: I was handling everything just fine, and you know it.

GREGORY: Maybe if you were better at possessing that chubby, hairy runt, I could have gotten rid of Stanley from the start.

ESTELLA: I’m not the issue you corpulent, bacteria-ridden rodent carcass! 

ESTELLA: You know damn well I needed more time to control him than one single day.

ESTELLA: And you thought you could do everything on your own.

ESTELLA: You thought, “Oh, if I don’t let that poor old bitch out, I don’t ever have to deal with her superior plan ever again! I’m so ridiculously smart!”

GREGORY: I do not sound like that!

GREGORY: Maybe if the others picked up their slack, I wouldn’t have had to call you out in the first place!

ESTELLA: Oh!

ESTELLA: Oh, I see how it is!

ESTELLA: If you hadn’t let me out, everything would be just sunshine and roses, would it now?

ESTELLA: Is that what you’re saying, you filthy, rancid pustule swell? Is it?

ESTELLA: If you hadn’t left me inside that small testicled man-child, the son of Satan wouldn’t know we’re out here right now!

ESTELLA: It’s your fault any of this is a problem!

GREGORY: Now listen here, you... youuu...!!!

GREGORY: Rrrg!

GREGORY: You better pick a damn side here with what you want!

GREGORY: You’re the dipsy twat who decided to possess anybody at all, and you think it’s my responsibility to take you out of there?

GREGORY: Did you want to stay in him or not?!

ESTELLA: It doesn’t matter what I wanted, it--

GREGORY: Oh, so now it doesn’t matter what you wanted, hmm?

GREGORY: Is that what I’m hearing for you now?

ESTELLA: Oh, quiet you!

ESTELLA: You plan to improvise if something goes wrong!

GREGORY: You can’t plan an improvision, that’s an oxymoron in of itself!

ESTELLA: You’ve ran out of arguments so you nit pick my words instead, huh.

GREGORY: That’s right!

GREGORY: Maybe if you weren’t so impeccably stupid it wouldn’t have gotten to this point.

ESTELLA: You really are a child at heart still.

ESTELLA: The devil’s out there, and he’s going to be on our tails, and you choose to do this with your time.

GREGORY: We’re still walking, are we not?!

GREGORY: I know he’s on our ass!

GREGORY: We’re awesome at what we do, he’d be a fool not to be!

ESTELLA: That is true.

MIKE: Hey-- you’re supposed to be helping people get ready in the make up room.

DAMIEN: What.

MIKE: You’re supposed to be doing your job, per se.

DAMIEN: I’m on break.

MIKE: Break ended five minutes ago.

DAMIEN: Yeah okay sure.

DAMIEN: I could send you to hell right now you know.

MIKE: Whatever, man...

DAMIEN: ...

DAMIEN: God I love doing absolutely fucking nothing.

ESTELLA: Is that all, now?

ESTELLA: Did you get everything out of your system, you dog-feces packed rug on a rotten wooden floor.

GREGORY: No, not quite.

GREGORY: Would you mind not dragging the poor sap’s corpse across the pavement?

GREGORY: All that’s going to do is prolong his revival.

ESTELLA: You care about the decency of a corpse, do you?

GREGORY: If we’re walking through a town full of red-neck, american blokes with shot guns at the ready, then yes. I do.

GREGORY: He’s also still our friend, like it or not.

ESTELLA: I do not have friends, you silly bleeding heart of a man.

ESTELLA: You are all nothing more than accomplices. 

GREGORY: Oh I’m sure you think so.

ESTELLA: I know so.

GREGORY: Y--

ESTELLA: Shut up.

ESTELLA: What are you doing with it.

GREGORY: Carrying him with some decency, you hag.

ESTELLA: I hardly see how carrying it like that will stop very many people from screaming bloody murder, anyways.

ESTELLA: Honestly, it’s a shame you actually have a heart under all of that blubbery skin of yours.

ESTELLA: You’re going to get blood all over yourself, you know.

GREGORY: Do not remind me.

GREGORY: Why do you think I put on gloves.

ESTELLA: Let’s just get somewhere quiet for the night and figure out our next course of action, shall we?

GREGORY: Whatever you say, your highness.

[angelanimedesaray]

Survive Or Live Chapter 1: The Barren World

AN:  Its a wee bit short cause it’s more of an introduction, but it’s not prologue material, sooooo here we are.  Just ask if you would like to be tagged in future chapters for updates.  Also, I will tag all updates #survive or live

Characters:  OC (Mae Brooks)

Pairing:  Levi x OC

Warnings:  Apocalypse Typical Violence, Gross Zombie Descriptions, Language

Word Count:  3103

Masterlist   Next Chapter --->

(Gif owner Dave Mosher on Gify)

The crunch of broken asphalt beneath her feet made enough sound Mae couldn’t help but cringe inwardly, worried that the sound would be just enough to attract attention to herself.  At the moment, there wasn’t anything moving along the street other than herself, but that was only what her light brown eyes could see so far.  Her calloused fingers shifted slightly along the bowstring she pulled tighter at the thought of what could be lurking out of sight in the shadows, the index finger of her other hand rolling over the wooden shaft of her knocked arrow.  Her shoulder rolled, adjusting the left strap of her hiker’s backpack that had started to slide down her shoulder, managing by some miracle to avoid getting her shoulder-length auburn hair caught under the strap in the process.

At least it was still decently light for now, even if that would be a bad sign if she left with a light bag.

Eyes on the two story white house several paces ahead of her and to the left, Mae stepped around a stray rusted car bumper and quickly approached the building, eyes darting around for any sign of movement.  A gurgling followed by the sound of shuffling feet drew her attention to the right side of the house just in time for Mae to see a Rotter shamble around the corner, not yet noticing her presence.

The walking corpse stumbled across the dead grass of the house’s front lawn, pustule spotted flesh hanging in strips or appearing shriveled and wasted on the once-human creature’s frame.  Dried blood and fresh ooze from ruptured pustules smeared across the remains of sallow skin, frayed hair, and tattered clothes.  This Rotter was missing an eye, which meant it wasn’t fresh since the larger parasites tried to move on to another host after about a month, and the eyes were their choice of exit.

More asphalt crunched under her foot, and the Rotter spun around off-balance but still upright, focusing on Mae and the noise she’d made.  Its remaining foggy eye focused on her as she raised her takedown recurve bow, arrow already knocked and drawn and simply holding so she made sure she made her shot count.  A rattling snarl regurgitated from its gaping mouth as it sudden lunged at her, twitching as its sprint hurried it towards her.  The Rotter only made it three steps before Mae released her arrow, which sunk right into the open eye socket and through its head.

The snarling stopped with a gurgle, the Rotter collapsing to the ground as Mae hurried over, hoping her arrow would be retrievable.

“Shame on you, Dave, sneaking up on me like that, it’s rude,” she muttered under her breath, boot on its neck as she yanked the arrow back and quickly moved away in case any of the squiggly parasites tried to latch onto her as a host.

It looked like it could still be used.  Good.

Another snarl--much closer now--had her quickly backing away from the sound, knocking and drawing the arrow as fast as she could, loosing the arrow on instinct more than aim.  It sunk into the back of the advancing Rotter’s throat, which didn’t do any good killing it, unfortunately.  As soon as her drawing hand was free of the arrow it reached for the machete at her waist, and she swung with as much force as possible, the blade slicing nicely into its forehead.  It slumped forward and she backed away to avoid the Rotter falling on her, yanking the machete out along the way.

“Oh, Mary-Ann, you’re here, too?  Why didn’t you say anything?” Mae continued, wiping the machete off in the grass and scowling at the now broken arrow still sticking out of its throat.

Perfect.

Still holding the machete firmly in hand, Mae made sure to air on the side of caution--more than usual, anyway--and do a quick check around the house to make sure there weren’t any more Rotters lurking around.

Thankfully she managed to loop back around to the front without seeing any more Rotters, glancing back at the two she’d already killed as if to make sure they were still dead.

“How are the kids?” she asked a little louder.  With a grimace, Mae looked away and made her way up the steps to the house.

Okay, that’s a little too morbid, Mae, shut up.

The house creaked with her every step, causing her paranoia to rear its head again.  Every sound made her twitch uncomfortably, her teeth on edge with every step.

She passed by the living room quickly, a goal of the kind of supplies she was looking for firmly in mind.  She went to the kitchen, the obvious choice, scouring open cabinets and looking for anything that might still be good.  It looked like someone had already searched the house, but there were a few bouillon cube packages shoved in the back, an open and spilled box telling her someone had tried to taste the powdery cubes to see if it was an edible, but quickly decided otherwise.

Their loss was her gain.  Thank God she knew how to use these things.

“Maybe there is still a God,” she murmured, shoving the beef and chicken bouillon packages into her back, including the open box.  She’d been hoping to find another box of some kind of pasta, rice, canned meat, but even though she’d scoured three streets of homes, so far no luck.  She was starting to come to accept that this town had already been picked over.  She’d still check all the houses (eventually) just to make sure she didn’t miss any hidden gems like the bouillon, but she wasn’t optimistic about what she’d find overall.

If all else failed, she could see if there was anything left over in the local ransacked convenience store.

Heading upstairs, Mae started with the bathroom to see if she could find anything more medically beneficial.  She had a supply of meds she kept carefully guarded she’d had ever since this whole mess started, but it never hurt to try and find more.

There was a package of cotton balls under the sink, and she didn’t hesitate to pilfer the two washcloths and one towel, but she couldn’t find anything else she thought might be of use.  She’d even take a pair of tweezers to help this scavenging trip feel a little more productive.

After that it was simply a matter of looking for any kind of scrap she could reuse.  The bedrooms had some clean clothes inside them that she picked through sparingly, only packing the best into her backpack so she could use the cloth for any need that arose.

“You’d think a hoard of goats came through and ate everything, with how little there is around here,” Mae said softly, sighing as she left the house, bow in hand again and eyes scanning the street for any more Rotters.  She gave the ones she’d killed earlier a wide berth when she saw that the pustules on their bodies were bursting and oozing now that the hosts were dead, not wanting to get too close and risk the ooze landing on her.  It was only infectious if the parasites got to you, but the ooze did a good job of masking the smaller parasites, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

Which was why she was wearing a flannel, jeans, and boots despite it being mid-spring.  It was better that as little skin was exposed as possible.

Mae wiped the sweat on her brow with her flannel sleeve, continuing through the small town’s residential area while she prattled on with utter nonsense to herself and any Rotter she came across.

“Do you think there’s any other perks to being covered head to toe in warm weather, despite all the sweat and the lowered risk of getting infected?  Think it helps protect me from getting a sunburn?  That’s an annoyance I don’t want to deal with during the apocalypse, though I doubt anyone is tearing apart any Wal-Marts trying to find sunscreen.  Except maybe Rotters trying to get to Annabelle hiding behind the sunscreen.  She probably should have tried to hide under the giant teddy bears.  Or is it the circus where you find those?  I wonder if I could make a giant ass teddy bear chair out of one of those.  It’s not like there’s any dumbasses around to judge me for buying a giant teddy bear to sit in like a weird armchair...er, or like I’m going to be buying it, since money’s useless for anything but toilet paper or tissues these days.”

She quieted her ramblings and slowed down, eyes suddenly drawn to the abandoned daycare on her right.  The cloudy glass was busted out and littered what once was probably a neatly trimmed lawn, quarantine sheets and caution tape fluttering weakly in the breeze.  A filth-covered doll was ripped almost all the way through the middle, resting between two broken panes of glass still jutting out from the bottom of a window.

She tore her eyes away with a lump in her throat, mood souring rapidly as she noticed the legless Rotter trying to drag its way over to her, what had once been sunday-best clothes now dirt and blood stained tatters.

“You’d think I’d be used to seeing this kind of thing by now, but every now and then, you see one that just…” she started to say to the Rotter, but the words died down, tasting like ash in her mouth as she watched the thing’s filthy nails clawed its way towards her feet.

It’s come down to me talking absolute nonsense at mindless creatures that want to eat me, huh?  Something I’m starting to do on the regular…

Mae angled her head up at the sky, squinting at the sun high above her in silence for several long moment until she couldn’t stare at the bright sky any longer.

“...God, I really am going crazy, aren’t I?”

No one answered.  There was just the continued raspy growls of the Rotter whose fingers had almost reached her boots.  Seeing its proximity, Mae unstrapped her machete again, scowling at the creature.

“It’s because you’re terrible company, Steve,” she said bitingly, ramming the machete into the creature’s head and waiting until it stopped twitching to pull it free, making a point not to glance back behind her towards the depressing scene of the daycare as she moved forward a little faster, wiping the machete off in the grass of the next home she saw.

By the time she left the residential district and started to pick her way through the ransacked stores of the abandoned town--a few arrows lighter than when she’d started, but her pack a little heavier--the sun was starting to set, warning her that she needed to start heading back.

It was amazing how many potentially useful meds were passed over in a panic when people were only looking for the familiar drugs like ibuprofen or acetaminophen in stores.  It also gave Mae a reason to be overwhelmingly grateful for her occupation before the world went to shit.  If it hadn’t been for her pre-apocalypse background, she wouldn’t know anything about most of the medications that were now stuffed into her pack.  In the mess of abandoned useless nicknacks and crushed, spoiled foodstuffs, she’d also managed to find a bottle of iron supplements, and heading back into the employee break room where their lockers were, she managed to find elastic bandages, and a bottle of ibuprofen after picking a few padlocks on the employee lockers.

Not a bad haul at all.  Far less food than she would have liked to find, but she had enough stored up it wouldn’t be a disaster if she had to wait to raid another town for food a little further down the line.

She kicked a stray stuffed basketball plush aside, pushing her hair back out of her face as she made her way back to the main road, machete once more in her free hand in case any infected had gathered outside.  To her surprise, there was only one standing in the street, twitching along it’s jagged sprint towards her once it had noticed her.  She swung her machete into its brain just like the rest, a small frown on her face as it dropped to the ground in front of her.  She crouched down in front of it--still a safe distance away, though.

“Any idea where your friends are?  I expected to see far more of you Rotters shambling around town,” she asked, even pausing a few seconds as if waiting for an answer.  “It’s like they have somewhere better to be...I’m offended.”

Mae pushed back up to her full height of five feet six inches--and three quarters, never forget the three quarters that brought her so close to seven inches--shifting her hiking backpack to a more comfortable position.  She put away the machete for now and returned to her bow, knocking an arrow but not drawing the string back all the way as she walked casually back the way she’d come, eyes scanning her surroundings and ears listening for the tell-tale sounds of Rotters.  If she’d seen more coming into town, she would have been a lot more cautious, but because of how scarce they had been through town all day, she was a little more relaxed going back through the area she’d already cleared.

A little relaxed.  She wasn’t stupid, Rotters could still show up when she least expected--they had a knack for doing that.  She wouldn’t have survived this long if she had ever let her guard all the way down.  Even now, she couldn’t decide if this stroke of luck with the scarcity in Rotters was invigorating or unsettling.

As she’d suspected, retracing her steps through town was even less eventful than when she’d foraged her way through it, with Mae only coming across the occasional Rotter here and there.  Perhaps something had drawn the attention of most of the infected to the other side of town, and that was where they all were?  Wherever they were, she wasn’t going to complain.  She was simply going to throw her pack into the back seat of the truck with the two gasoline tanks she’d filled yesterday, and head back home to get some rest.  After such a slow-going scavenging trip, she felt drained--the kind that came from constant disappointment and even some boredom.

Not to mention months since I saw another living person--and that was from a distance; I didn’t even get involved.  Didn’t like the look of them…

She was finally understanding the true horror of being driven to madness from isolation.  Talking to rotting corpses and the sky was only going to get her so far.

Dwelling on the thoughts of her own state of sanity only served to make her view the overall silence of the town as irksome, a scowl on her face when she reached the home garage she’d hidden her truck in while she scavenged around town, muttering unintelligible nonsense about a world record for the quiet game as she opened the back door and threw in her pack, slammed the back door shut, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

A glance at the fuel gage told her the four wheel drive vehicle only had a little less than half a tank left.  Enough to get her back home, but she’d have to fill up once she arrived.  At least she had two more tanks in the back seat.

She kept the windows down as she cruised back through the residential streets, partially to listen for any sounds of Rotters, and partially to let the cool breeze blessedly blow against her sweaty face.

With several streets left to go before the houses started spreading out instead of being so packed together, the edge of town mere minutes away, Mae finally heard the sound she’d been dreading.  The distant sound of an angry hive of snarling Rotters, growing closer with alarming speed.  She thought she heard it ahead of her and on her right, instinctively rolling up the passenger’s side window to keep Rotters from flinging themselves through the opening as her head turned towards the sound, eyes scanning her immediate surroundings as her foot put a little more pressure on the gas, ready to peel out of town the first visual sign she had of an approaching hoard.

Finally, her eyes spotted a roiling mass of bodies squeezing its way down one of the narrow alleys between homes, more in the next alley, and the next, and--

Mae’s foot was already pressing down on the gas to give the truck a burst of speed and race by the incoming hoard before she finished processing the sight of the second alley full of Rotters.  The idle wonder crossed her mind if it had been the sound of her truck which had drawn their attention--which didn’t seem likely to her--or something else.

A sudden thud and bounce of the truck bed, plus the brief flash of a shadow being cast over the truck, caused Mae to tap on the brake of her truck for the briefest second before survival instincts reminded her there was a hoard descending on her, and now was not the time to stop the truck.  But there could very well be a Rotter in her truck bed, and she did not want one of the infected to eat her while she was dri--

“Fuck!”

Rotters didn’t curse, especially not loud enough she could hear it in the driver’s seat as the truck shuddered from her momentary tap on the breaks and something seemed to violently shift in the truck bed.

Since the road ahead was temporarily open, Mae risked glancing back to see what was happening.

The survivalist in her noticed the terrifyingly sized hoard racing after her in a mass of unnaturally twitching bodies, with a few clinging to the edges of the truck bed and snapping their jaws furiously at something within.

The rest of her focused on the figure that was sitting up with its back to the truck’s cab, one hand removing itself from its place pressed against the back of the head of a man with black undercut hair, a black and green scarf tied around his face with the fabric covering everything below his eyes.

Steel grey blue eyes that, as his head turned just enough to regard Mae in the driver’s seat of the truck, focused on her with all it’s hardened intensity.

“Drive!”

Next Chapter --->

[aughraseye]

3&4?

Thanks for asking anon! And sorry for the delay in answering!

3. Who is your favourite Skeksis?

While I do hate the skeksis I can also totally see why people like them so much. Each one of them is so full of personality and incredibly entertaining in their own way. So, after thinking on this long (not that long) and hard (not that hard) here’s where I stand.

skekSil has to be a favorite. He is THE skeksis. No one does it better. He’s dramatic, he’s petty, he’s a bitch, he’s constantly scheming. And just like the other skeksis I let him get away with it every time just to see what he will do next.

Plus that scene where he steals Mira’s essence from skekTek may be the funniest moment in the whole ass show.

skekEkt is also up there. I really appreciate his commitment to looking fab 24/7. Like the Cruella de Vil of bird people he isn’t afraid to take fashion risks, upend binary gender roles, and shed a little blood to achieve his aesthetic. Although I’m aware that he’s been involved in some frankly atrocious things, I’m too distracted by his chanel boots and all-about-me attitude to mind.

Also, “Life is my paint. Death is my canvas.” is too raw a line to not put him on this list.

skekLach is another favorite. I know some people didn’t like him, and I get it, but I was just such a huge fan of Awkwafina’s voice acting that he has to be on this list. I’m really out here in the world saying “why am I not surprised?” in an overly nasal voice when faced with any mild inconvenience. Sure pustules just aren’t in vogue this year but there’s something to be said about having a statement look - even if that statement is I’m disgusting, stay the fuck away from me.

Like I said, each skeksis has their moments, and I can appreciate each of them, but for the purposes of this list these were the characters I found myself wanting more of at the end of season 1.

4. Who is your favourite Mystic?

This is also a tough one because I have complicated feelings towards the mystics, but ultimately I find myself favoring those with a more active role in the plot pre-resistance. This also contains some spoilers for Song of the Dark Crystal.

urVa is undoubtedly the stand out urru for me. I loved him in the books and a lot more in the show. He is just so badass. I appreciate the fact that he does get involved in the plot, seeking out Aughra, fighting the hunter, and ultimately recognizing that sacrifice is sometimes necessary to maintain one’s own integrity and the preserve the greater good.

No jokes here just mad respect for the realist urru in Thra.

urLii was probably my favorite mystic in the books. Again, I loved the fact that he was intimately involved in the lives of the gelfling, teaching the young grottan to read and write. He seemed to embody a totally different kind of wisdom than say urVa, but one no less important to gaining deeper insights into the self and the universe. And his decision to stay in Grot to keep watch over skekLi and prevent him from further disrupting the resistance was noble and an example of the relationship the urru should be seeking with their counterparts.

Finally, urGoh. Obviously, urGoh had to make top three. He has such a huge impact on Thra and the gelfling resistance. He helped forge the glaive, created Lore, wrote history, passed on the truth about the skeksis, all while being the absolute chillest. Dude is high as fuck all the time and still puts more good out into the world than most people ever hope to.

He’s truly out there lighting blunts AND the fires of resistance.

Plus my man knows how to do an opera/puppet show/history lesson right.

[gwarmemestraightfromtboh]

gwar tag yourself

greetings human scum before i serve you this platter of shitpost i would like to introduce myself—I am Endometra The Anguished and your torment is my glee. You will enjoy my presence whether you like it or not.

🐮Udder Hatred For Everything

- wants to live in a little secluded cottage in the woods

- only drinks moon water

- EXTREME MISANTHROPY

- can probably talk to woodland creatures and recruit them to destroy humanity

👹Stimky

- LOUD

- always mad @ something

- virgo

- secretly craves love and attention

🐠Fishy n Stanky

- is actually babie

- absolutely and unfairly oppressed by the court

- *puppy noises*

- gender: penis

🦖Land Before Time

- also could've been babie but NO everyone had to crack him out

- only slymie saw what he could've been

- rawr XD

- MISUNDERSTOOD

💉Menstrual Blood Clot

- backwards facing fangs in her vagina

- queen of bloodshed

- goddess of female doms

- I LOVE HER

💜Estradiol™️

- adorably optimistic and doesn't fit in but they let her stay bc she's probably a "TOP 10 CHARACTERS THAT COULD KILL THANOS"

- insists that they’re all “best friends” despite everyone else’s protests to the contrary

- only thing in the entire multiverse that slymenstra feels even a symblance of love for

- wants to make slow, meaningful passionate love and serenade slymie and believe it or not she “tolerates” it

🥄Testicular Distress

- stress cooks

- tries to cure his depression with masturbation

- in love with a dead raccoon

- can’t drive or do math

🦠Bubonic Pustule

- loves cats but doesn’t want anyone to know

- analfuckmaster 8000

- acne positivity

- crusty boi

💨 Flat Stanley

- stoned 24/7

- that one kid that never grew out of his dinosaur obsession

- smells like dead flowers

- steals cro-magnon artifacts from the smithsonian but only on tuesdays

🍔FUCKEN BEESECHURGER

- has a severe god complex

- bitter about love

- inhales everything in his immediate vicinity like kirby or some shit

- believes we should bring back gladiator battles for population control

🐶Canid Semen (do we know anything at all about him? up for debate.)

- furry dudebro

- that’s it

- oh yeah his name is brad

- ESPN

🍆Libido Chef

- cooks with bälsäc a lot

- surprisingly domestic

- literally unable to stop thinking about how he would fuck every person around him

- Extra™️ as motherfucking shit

🔩DS Lite

- thinks he’s the shit

- “married” to slymie

- going through a Rebellious Phase™️

- annoying little brother

⚙️3DS XL

- is actually the shit

- somehow both fits in with everyone else and is also A Good Boy™️

- *circular saw noises*

- probably laughs like, really fucking loudly

🚽Oh No

- RIP

- scat kink

- he didn’t even fucking need their shit to recreate the tablet he just wanted to fulfill all his sexual fantasies

- RIP (but this time louder for the people in the back)

🔮Dickhead

- reminds me just a little too much of that time gary (spongebob) turned into a wizard or some shit

- the only character out of everyone that’s even slightly careful/prudent about anything

- really really smart but doesn’t show it

- Mom Friend™️

🐢Femur Breaker (he's gonna kill me for giving him the turtle emoji)

- ugly friend

- massive pushover

- has killed and will kill again

- legally not allowed to say fuck

💰Martin's Sandwich Potato Bread

- living embodiment of "lets get this bread"

- goes through 5 cans of aquanet each morning

- extra gum WISHES it was him

- looks like a cigar/tobacco connoisseur but he just buys the most expensive ones he can find

💎Ken Doll

- BITCH ASS THINKS HES SOMETHIN SPECIAL

- looks goofy

- im mad at him

- THIS MAN killed my father

🧪Cranial Think Tank Countenance

- built like a green bean

- genetically predisposed to addiction

- was kinda chill and sweet and then she fuckin snapped

- walter white WISHES he could

🎀Fuckface

- literally cannot help being a hoe

- really smart but massively underrated in their position at the lab

- made of regret and failed poledancer dreams

- they died as they lived—getting fucked in the skull

⚔️Synnabon

- thinks he's God or some shit

- micromanager of the universe

- weirdly obsessed with babies

- SELFISH ASS WANTS THE UNIVERSE ALL TO HIMSELF

✝️Catholicism

- *angry bigot noises*

- probably related to the grandma in flowers in the attic

- married to the 2nd amendment

- "OK boomer"

🇺🇸Annoyingly Patriotic

- hates having fun

- secretly gay

- steals alien dicks

- thinks the entire US budget should go towards military

🗿Master Bates

- w h a t t h e f u c k

- guys i seriously dont know shit about him

- OTHER THAN THAT HES A FUCKING ASSHOLE

- i will face the master and walk backwards into hell

aight fuckers my memory isnt the best so if i missed anyone let me know

[perksofbeingawaifu]

“logic”

Vulcan Levi comes to Chief Medical Officer Dr. Hanji suffering from a mysterious ailment. What is it? Pon Farr? Mysterious alien spores? Or something a little more banal?

Star Trek AU, ereri, g rated, ~2200 words, tw: needles. maybe based on recent life experiences

When Levi stepped into the sickbay, Hanji’s first reaction was that the Vulcan had come to scold them for the missing core samples taken on the newly discovered planet Oasis.

“Dr. Hanji—“ Levi started.

“I only borrowed them! I promise I’ll have them back to Dr. Arlert within—“

“What?” Levi asked, brows pinching together.

“What?” Hanji’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling.

There was a pause and then Levi appeared to wave off that minor distraction.

“I wanted to know…while we were on Oasis…were there any…was anyone brought aboard the ship with any new ailments?”

It was a roundabout way of getting to the point, Hanji thought. The Vulcan was usually far more pointed (forgive the pun) with his questions.

“Well, there was an uptick in Orion’s Buckle but that’s to be expected, Oasis is very romantic, I heard many of the crew calling it a tropical paradise—“

“What’s that?”

“Orion’s Buckle? Oh…well you know. That’s not the scientific term, just what the crew calls it. It’s a play on words. Like Orion’s belt? It’s a good old fashioned sexually transmitted infection. Some people attribute it to the Orion syndicate’s more seedy locations, but in reality it’s been around for hundreds of years. I had at least five people in here with symptoms. I traced back the source to one young stud of a crew member who I have since disciplined for failing to get treatment. But he and his paramours should be recovered by now. Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s always an uptick in those sorts of illnesses whenever we have shore leave. Why?”

“What’s it look like?”

“Oh. Boils. Pustules. Warts. It’s quite disgusting, but very treatable.”

The tension in Levi’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“Why?” Hanji asked, now a little too interested. “Because let me tell you, that if someone I knew had contracted something on a new planet and had failed to follow proper quarantine procedures, the ramifications could be disastrous as this disease spread throughout the entire crew.”

“You’re the Chief Medical Officer, right? So there’s a doctor patient thing, right?”

“Yes, anything you tell me is completely confidential. I do have to put it in my logs, but—“

“What if you didn’t put them in the logs?”

“That would be a serious breach of Starfleet protocol Levi.” Hanji might be slightly flexible with other rules, but they were quite serious about documenting any and all crew ailments.

This appeared enough for Levi. He slowly slipped his hands out of his pockets and held them, palms up to Hanji.

The skin on Levi’s hands was dark green and cracked, bleeding slightly. It looked like rope burn, but if that were the case Hanji would have tended to it first and written a report. Hanji slipped on gloves and pulled Levi’s hands toward them. Levi winced.

“The skin is tender?” Hanji asked, prodding the skin a little with tweezers.

“Yes,” Levi said, eye twitching as Hanji continued to poke him.

“Any joint or muscle soreness? Gland soreness?”

“I’ve already checked. If it had been in the medical disease logs, I would have treated myself. As such, I don’t know what it is, so that’s why I’m here.”

Why is it, Vulcans thought valuing logic made them smarter than everyone else?

“Well let me take a few samples. I think it’s safe to say you’re on quarantine. Step inside the bubble.”

Levi sighed and stepped into the quarantine zone. Hanji put up the shields around them both and set to work. They took samples, they prodded the tender flesh, they ran their tricorder over his body, and all the while Levi watched Hanji’s movements like a hawk.

“Well I think I can take you off of quarantine,” Hanji said after several long minutes. “It looks like an allergic reaction. You must have come into contact with something on the planet. It’s possible others had the same reaction and dismissed it or it may only be something that’s Vulcans are allergic to. Either way, I have a solution!”

They smeared Levi’s hands with medicated cream. For the half hour that he sat there with his carefully rolled up sleeves, he looked like someone who had stuck both hands into a vat of mayonnaise. When Hanji wiped it off, the inflammation in his hands had all but faded away. The dark green patches had faded so much they were barely noticeable.

“Keep applying this until it’s gone away completely,” Hanji said, handing him a jar of the cream.

All in a day’s work.

<*>

Levi reappeared within a fortnight. “It’s worse,” he said.

Hanji hadn’t even turned around when Levi appeared.

“Really? I thought the cream would—AH!” Hanji quickly recovered by turning their shocked yelp into a cough.

The rash had spread across Levi’s face, concentrating mostly around his mouth. It looked like someone had socked him in the mouth with green putty. His face was slightly swollen and the eyes puffy and heavy with dark green crusting along his lash line.

“Oh Levi, you should have come to me sooner, you look awful!”

He did indeed look a miserable and pitiable figure. He hid it well, but pain can make even the most stoic of Vulcans crack.

“I only came here because I ran out of that cream.”

“Yes, but Levi, you are clearly having a more severe allergic reaction.”

“I’m fine,” Levi said, scratching at his neck. “Just give me more of that stuff.”

“No, we need to do a whole work up here. Find out what it is on this ship that you’re so allergic to. I’m gonna have to do a scratch test—“

“Scratch? As in…needles?” Levi took a step backward.

“No, just a tiny little scrape,” Hanji said.

Hanji had seen Levi take down a drunk Klingon with deadly precision, but he often paled and fled when faced with the biannual inoculations.

Levi hesitantly removed his shirt and Hanji could see there were more marks around his neck and chest. They resisted saying anything, but it almost looked like hickeys. Hanji completed the test and then input the data, scanning him with the tricorder once more.

“So it looks like we have our results. You’re allergic to dust—“

“Isn’t everyone?” Levi snapped.

Well that explained his fastidious nature and hatred of dust. Hanji had wondered if it was a Vulcan thing.

“And human dander.”

“Human…you mean I’m allergic to humans?” Levi asked incredulously.

“It’s not uncommon. That’s why the filters on the ship are so strong, to protect those with cross species allergies.”

“I understand the theory, Hanji,” Levi dismissed. Ugh, Vulcans. “It’s just I’ve never had an issue the entire time I’ve been aboard, why now?”

“Well, it could be that because you are so thorough in your cleanliness.”

That and he was averse to touch. Hanji had extended a handshake to him they first time they met and he had not taken it.

“Or maybe you’ve been working closely with a human? Have you had any physical contact with humans?”

Levi had an amazing poker face.

“Or it could be human saliva. Maybe you accidentally took a sip out of a glass someone else had—“

Levi clicked his tongue at the idea.

“When was your last Pon Farr?” Hanji asked, wondering if nearing the blood fever could have anything to do with his immune system acting up.

Levi’s nostrils flared.

“Well, I’m going to give you an antihistamine for now,” Hanji said, holding out a little cup with a pill in it to Levi. “And then I will develop a series of shots for you that will hopefully—Levi?”

He had taken the pill and run. Hanji sighed.

“Patient declined injections for allergy,” they said into their tricorder before tilting their head back for a quick power nap.

<*>

“I need another pill,” Levi said the next day.

The itching was worse and the skin looked crusty. Hanji wanted to scratch just looking at him.

“You need shots,” Hanji emphasized.

“I need another pill,” Levi repeated.

“Levi you need the shots or else you will build up an immunity to the pill. Any further contact with humans will only make it worse.”

“Then I will simply cut off all contact,” Levi said simply.

Vulcan logic.

<*>

“I thought you were cutting off all contact with humans?” Hanji said.

They had a very naked Levi on the table. The rash had spread to his genitals and for the first time ever Hanji was able to see what an embarrassed Vulcan looked like. Apparently, it looked a lot like a naked Vulcan with a rash on his ass.

“Humans are…persuasive,” Levi licked his cracked lips.

“You need to tell your human girlfriend that you need some time to heal since you refuse treatment.”

“Girl…friend.” Levi did not understand the words. “I will inform them that we may no longer see each other.”

“That’s not what I said!” Hanji called after him as he stalked out of the sickbay.

<*>

“Hey Doc!” Eren waved at Hanji. “Got a moment?”

“Eren! Good to see you! How are you doing? In good health, I hope?”

“Sortof. Look I feel kindof silly coming in, but I have had these allergies driving me absolutely crazy. Look at me, my eyes are constantly itchy, my nose is running, I’m sneezing all the time. I just want to be able to focus. I’ve washed and cleaned my quarters several times. I’ve tried different diets. I’ve had them change the filters in my room. At this point I’m out of options.”

“Okay well let’s do a scratch test for you.”

Hanji gained an odd sense of déjà vu while they performed the test.

“So I’ve got your results and it looks like you’re allergic to dust—“

“Isn’t everyone?” Eren grinned and Hanji chuckled.

“And…Vulcan dander.”

“Vulcan…do Vulcans have dander? Wait, what? I’m allergic to Vulcans? How is that even possible? My sister is half Vulcan!”

“It’s possible because of her half human side that you’ve never had an issue before,” Hanji speculated.

“Well, this explains it. So what do I do? I can’t just…ignore all Vulcans? That’s speciest and also…really difficult because..I’ve sortof been seeing one.”

He was handsome when he flushed like that. Hanji already knew that most people on the ship, no matter the species, found Eren to be quite attractive.

“Good news is all you need is a series of shots. You’ll need to work your way up to a set dose but after that you should only need one every six months.”

“Really? Oh that’s awesome. Thanks Hanji.”

“I can give you the first round today if you’d like.”

“That would be perfect,” Eren said rolling up his sleeves eagerly.

“You’re much better than my last allergy patient,” Hanji said with a grin. “I had a Vulcan sitting in that pod and he was terribly allergic to humans but refused shots for it. It’s sad but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Eren sat up.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“Oh, it’s just that species allergies are more common than you might think! Can you imagine being allergic to humans on a ship that is eighty percent humans? And I am a doctor but I can’t just wave a magical wand and make him better. Nope, you need shots.”

Hanji turned around with the injection gun in one hand and tricorder in the other and found the pod empty. They sighed.

<*>

Eren reappeared a half hour later, dragging Levi behind him like a very surly balloon.

“Dr. Hanji is it possible for Vulcans to explode from having intercourse with other non-Vulcans during Pon Farr?”

“…What?” Hanji asked, completely lost.

“He led me to believe this is what Pon Farr looks like,” Eren said, pointing at a miserable Levi. “But you’re just allergic to humans, aren’t you? All you need is a shot.”

“I don’t want a shot,” Levi said, digging his heels in like a stubborn mule.

By the stars, they were allergic to one another. Hanji wanted to burst into laughter.

“Look, I’ll get the shots, you can watch me and you’ll see it’s no big deal and then you get them, okay?”

Levi glowered.

“Please?” Eren begged. “For me?”

Levi relented.

“Here, Eren, you get comfortable in the pod. And Levi—“

“I prefer to stand,” Levi said crossing his arms.

“Right well I’ll just get Eren’s shots ready then,” said Hanji. “Now, you may feel a small—GOTCHYA!!!”

Hanji used the opportunity when Levi’s guard was down to jab him in the neck with the injection gun. Levi let out a howl of surprise but surprisingly there was little damage to Hanji’s labs save for their goggles and one sickbay pod.

“Ow, four eyes, you really got me,” he complained later, rubbing his neck and eating a frozen treat.

This coming from the Vulcan that had walked around with a dislocated shoulder for two weeks and never noticed. Hanji had told him the popsicle had medicine in it that would help the inflammation go down but really they had just given him the sweet hoping a little positive reinforcement might go a long way.

“Eren isn’t complaining nearly as much as you,” Hanji pointed out as Eren ate his popsicle happily.

“I don’t mind. I’d get a million shots just to be with the one I love,” Eren said, crunching on his cherry treat.

Well, that was the second time in as many weeks Hanji was blessed with a blushing Vulcan.

[mechagalaxy]

John T Mainer 28840: Legion of Vega

Legion of Vega

I was on Vega brokering a deal to sell some of the garbage the Spirit of Bunny got on their last raid. Apparently fighting evil energy sucking stormclouds gives you crap for loot. Weathermen don't retire rich, I guess that was one of the reasons I became a pilot in the first place, I didn't want to do honest work, I wanted to shoot bad guys for beer money and shiny shiny loot. There was little danger of any of that on Vega. Vega is a desert world, one of the wind swept hell worlds of the Prince Of Iron's Meiji Shogunate. Settled by Islamist Fundamentalists, they got nuked back to the stone age by one of the early Emperors for an assassination attempt, and only rebuilt partially when the nuking clean up revealed some nasty heavy metals useful in biopic production were discovered, and crystal farming proved to be the one thing that Vega's high radiation atmosphere and almost total lack of surface water was good for.

Vega had been a bright spot for the Shogunate during the war against the Illyrian's, but had fallen into disfavor when the garrison sided with the Prince of Flowers in the late civil war, and the once proud 11th and 14th Legions of Vega were disbanded. The scum soldiers of the Legions of Vega had been an open joke, a dumping ground for criminals, stim addicts, discipline cases, burnouts, and political dissidents, yet when the Illyrians attacked the border, and world after world fell, the father of the current Emperor, the famous/infamous Teddy K, lead the 11th in their doomed stand, and the 14th in their epic war to take back not just Vega, but to drive into the Illyrian border worlds and gut the supply chain for the whole invasion. Since the civil war, they had been without anything but local corporate troops and Internal Security Force security troops. With the increase in pirate and Storm linked activity the governor of Vega, the vastly and cheerfully corrupt "Uncle Chandy" had been authorized to raise a defense force if he could equip it out of his own (cheerfully lined) pockets.

Thus, some of the elite of Mecha Galaxy were gathered on a world that made Arakis look like a vacation spa, that made Pirate Moon look law abiding, and made camels sick of sand. Uncle Chandy was a fat, happily decadent and corrupt man whose vast appetites were only exceeded by his intellect and a strange, almost inexplicable desire, to serve the Shogunate's best interests, whether they knew or approved or not. He was so openly shifty he had three boxes on his desk labeled clearly "Bribes" "Blackmail" "Payoffs", they were all full. One thing Uncle Chandy had oddly never once been accused of, is breaking a deal. Win or lose on a deal, he paid in good coin. Thus it was a few of us were gathered on Vega trying to offload some low level gear, crap crystal mecha, weapons you could possibly bother a rat with if he hadn't been eating well lately, and some decent gear we just couldn't afford to level up.

Uncle Chandy was a generous host, and plied us with all sorts of comforts when we were not negotiating, but when we were, he took a duelists delight in a close match and permitted no distractions, so negotiations were not swift. The first reports of storm disruption of the gates were drifting in to us through our own private networks. If we hadn't been busy trying to out outmaneuver each other, and treating each other as enemies, we might have compared notes and been able to get our asses out of there before it went sideways. We didn't. We each had a report of disruption of some of he gates, we each had reports of raiders hitting some adjacent worlds. If we would have compared notes, we could have summoned our own clans to deal with it before we got cut off. Uncle Chandy, well, he had all of it, and played us like the master gamesman he was.

I was sitting in the waiting room, a scantily clad hostess was plying me with some sort of candied fig while I waited to finalize the sale on a half dozen Cindron when Lewis Reed my Logistics Officer burst in.

"Boss, we got trouble. The gate network is down hard. Something has scrambled all the access routines and we have zero contact with base. From the bit that I got, all the teams are reporting the same. They can't get offworld, and we have over thirty percent of our personnel in all Clans isolated or trapped away from support. We also have word of Deneb and Misery falling. Unknown raiders, not pirates, way too big. Not a raid, they took Deneb's main city and shut down the spaceport and the gate complex both"

I just about choked on my fig. Deneb is a sector capital and well defended. Misery is another hell world, but its an ice ball. To be brutally honest, the only export of Misery is misery....and ice. The water to keep Vega alive came on the ice ships from Misery weekly. With the gates down, the fall of Misery meant we were trapped on Vega with no water, in the sure and certain knowledge that the world that should be enforcing order in this section of space just got conquered by "forces unknown". This was not good.

I swore under my breath. I had to see Uncle Chandy right away and see about trading our Cindron's for one of his ships to get offworld while we still could. I wished for the first time that I had brought the clan in a Warship not taken commercial transport through the gate system. I approached Uncle Chandy's door to see about interrupting his current meeting when I heard voices inside.

"Not on your life, no frigging way. Only a lunatic would agree to that, I don't care what you are paying! That is suicide!" I stopped, my hand about two inches from the call plate on the door. I swear I recognized that voice. The door opened and a hard bitten pilot with a angry scowl just about barreled into me.

It was Able Hunter. He took the cigar out of his mouth where it was being chewed more than smoked in his current rage and jabbed it in my direction. He turned back and shouted one more time at Uncle Chandy before pushing past me and leaving.

"Try that idiot. He is just stupid enough to volunteer to commit suicide for this sand covered crap-hole!"

Uncle Chandy was full of smiles and took my arm and lead me to a nice massage chair in front of his massive desk. Easing himself into his own larger version, two of his many semi-dressed assistants settled glasses of melon soda over ice in front of us. He kept up a constant and happy babble of nonesense and routine Japanese politeness to prevent me from getting to business until he could raise his glass to offer a toast.

"To the glory of the Emperor, the safety of his children, and our own mutual benefit. A drink, and some of the last ice of Misery unless someone of experience and standing undertakes the defense of this world. Sadly, there is no way off this world save the Kigamure, which is reserved to trasport the troops of the Legion of Vega for the defense of this world. Sadly, that is by order of the Prince of Iron, and your humble servant could never oppose the will of the Son of Heaven or his war prince." Uncle Chandy's smile was a mix of the beneficence of Buddha, and cold hunger of the great white shark.

I took a sip of my drink, and considered his words.

"If we don't get off this world, you will run out of water faster" I attempted

He spread his hands, and replied "A hundred or two foreigners more or less won't make a difference when two million of my problem children run out of water, yet with a strong military expedition to restore our water supply and to guarantee our defense until such time as the gates stabilizer, would not your people and my own both profit?"

I looked into his smiling face and sighed. I nodded. "Fine, I will lead your defense. What can you offer me?"

Uncle Chandy smiled and pushed across a box. I opened it and found a memory crystal, code locked to an individuals DNA and brainwave patterns, and the insignia of a Tai-Sa, along with eight matching Legion of Vega pins. Uncle Chandy was beaming and his voice boomed happily.

"I offer you command of the glorious Legion of Vega, and all its resources for the defense and strategic security of this world and its trade. This includes the Kigamure warship as well as all the mecha and support resources you can raise as volunteers. Yours will be the war against Chaos for the glory of Vega, and the enrichment of your troops. I guarentee that each will receive a mecha commensurate to their own glorious contribution, paid for from my own, considerable pockets" Uncle Chandy's voice dripped happy avarice at the end that made my mercenary soul perk up a bit. The fact was, generosity aside, eight mecha is a crappy basis for defense of a world.

I countered "I want command of the ISF batallion. Sure they are green troops, and used to only dealing with civil disobedience and labour disputes, but a batallion is a batallion. I want command of them as well. They can be meat shields if nothing else" I demanded.

Uncle Chandy's face expressed sorrow like a baby basset hound, and he let his implant depolarize his huge office window. Outside the demonstration of Sal-Eh-Dim was in full force. Marches and even mecha carrying or draped with banners "Boycott Chaos" pressed against the line of ISF troopers and mecha out front of the Vegan capital building.

"It is regrettable that I must retain the ISF batallion to keep order here at home, thanks to the peace activists demand we boycott the Chaos war, even if that means failing to restore the Ice supply from Misery, and everyone on this beautiful world dying" Uncle Chandy showed absolute innocence and an odd belief that this waterless pustule of corruption was indeed a paradise worthy of the blood of a legion, but he wasn't wrong. If we let things stand, this world died. He was going to see us paid, and paid well. In the end, if you are a mercenary mecha jock, you chose this profession because you wanted to kick ass, take names, and yes by the gods, be a hero every once in a while.

I pinned on the insignia, slotted the memory crystal into the reader on my belt and felt it synch with my implants. I activated the Legion command circuit and the call for volunteers went out. By the time I got Lewis from the front office and had him book transport for our mecha to the Legion barracks, so long empty and probably looted dry, I was deeply depressed. No eight random mecha platoons can defend a world. I opened the bay doors and walked in. There was chaos underway as swearing pilots and technicians in a mismatch of coverals and even bad Hawaiian shirts struggled to slot a bewildering array of mecha into empty cradles and other deeply suspicious pilots started undogging the unmarked crates Uncle Chandy sent over that seemed to be brimming with Meiji Shogunate munition marks that I strongly suspect the Shogunate does not know are no longer on its shelves.

I pinged the officers from my implant, wondering who I had, and hoping I wasn't looking at a half dozen third level pilots with nothing heavier than a Warhorse when my implant accepted the response from the Legions officers. I gave a low whistle.

Ben Rail, Terry Cole, Lewis Reed, Stroker Spot, Mike Ehmann, Able Hunter, Myeponym, and me. Son of sand rat, maybe we could defend this world. If I had to take eight platoons and bet the life of a planet that I could take Misery, at least long enough to get the ice ships flowing back to Vega, this would be it.

The rat banner of the Legion of Vega flies again. A dumping ground for the disgraced, despised, and the disposable, they had turned the tide of war before, so perhaps we could do so again. We are the Legion of Vega. We are coming for you.

John T Mainer 28840

[maggi-cube]

I’m gonna rant.

This isn’t to be a “do you want a cookie?” ass annoying ally but bro like genuinely, absolutely, through and through FUCK TERFS!!! FUCK EM!!!

How the fuck do you have the absolute audacity to open your disgusting mouth and try to exclude trans women, trans women of color, the fucking backbone of our community, who fought for our rights when we were nothing but a group of fags and dykes trying to keep it together? How DARE you parasites ignore the work they put in for your ungrateful, unwashed ass keeping our youth off the streets and out of the hands of cops? How do you fucking have the gall spit on the name of Marsha P and Miss Major? TERFs have done nothing for this community but break us apart, erasing trans and Bi history like some sort of fucking purists, like the fucking cishets would give a fuck about you if you licked their boots. You are pustules on the backs of giants, and I stg if you disappeared we’d be better for it.

Suck. my. dick.