#manic grannies

[mumblelard]

my kids came over yesterday and we sat at my kitchen table telling our tales of the week and talking nonsense about nonsense and we laughed and laughed and laughed until the sun started to set and the streetlights came on

tomorrow morning at finnie's house we'll all get together and our partner's too and have our monthly big breakfast and visit some more. i know this window where we are all so near and we can get together so often, i know it will close eventually. i am trying so hard to pay attention to every minute

i had dark dreams and restless sleep last night but boba kept me company the whole time. i got so hungry thinking about tomorrow, i made myself a big breakfast this morning too and it felt so good. it's a sunny day. i am finishing my coffee. boba is warming herself in a bright spot and chirping happy thoughts. i have a new poetry collection waiting for me at the library and i'm going to walk up the hill and across the park and through the woods to go get it and i'll see where the day goes from there

[businesscatfelix]

my sinister crafts.

[sirtotallynotatimetraveler]

Welcome To Confection Castle! (AU)

What in the World is Confection Castle? :

Confection Castle (formerly known as Candy/Candied Castle) is a role-swap AU of Pizza Tower, akin to the more well-known PT swap AU, Sugary Spire. Unlike Sugary Spire, Confection Castle only swaps the roles of the characters and not their personalities, with a few alterations. With the unchanged personalities of each character, this instead changes the mechanics, environment, and even story of Pizza Tower, with each character handling their swapped roles more differently than Sugary Spire's interpretation.

(This AU's concept was largely inspired by TS!Underswap. A reimagining and fangame of the Undertale AU, Underswap, which uses the same concept)

The Story:

Teddy is faced with the consequences of his own actions after pulling one too many pranks against a castle that was bought out by a huge confection company, Candyboy Corporations. A company that steals the competition against smaller sweets business owners. Teddy's given a warning by the corporation CEO's assistant, Granny Candydimples, that the CEO will destroy his and many other confectionary's shops, forcing them to all work for his company. Thanks to the warning, Teddy and his confectionary allies team up to take down the Confection Castle and its evil schemes.

The Characters (may or not feature some slightly outdated art):

Teddy Taffy (Theodore Taffy) - Noise in the Role of Peppino: A smug, witty, mostly down to earth, prankster who formerly premiered on the big screen before leaving it all to continue his family's legacy: making mouthwatering candy and sweets. He owns a quaint candy shop in a vaguely European town near a looming Confection Castle. He's obsessed with sugar and when he consumes a good amount of it, can become hyperactive and manic.

Suzy (Suzette) - Noisette in the Role of Gustavo: A kind-hearted, rule-following, and dorky dessert baker who owns a bakery/patisserie next to Teddy's candy shop. She's close friends with Teddy and secretly has a crush on him, which may or may not be obvious to everyone except Ted. Like Ted, her business was challenged by Candyboy Corporations, forcing her to rally against the castle with Teddy,

The Ingredipets - Role of the Toppins: Little creatures resembling confectionary ingredients that were kidnapped and enslaved by Candyboy Corp. to make the companies candy. Teddy and his allies will save each of them to defeat their competitor. Ingredipets may be different depending on the character being played.

Captain Crackle (Peppino Ravioli) - Peppino in the Role of The Noise: Captain Crackle is a well-known cereal brand pirate captain mascot for the cereal of the same name. He's played by a worn-out has-been TV and opera celebrity Peppino Ravoli who does the bidding of Candyboy Corporations to make a living. He takes on three jobs: Captain Crackle, a Candyboy Corp. gift shop worker, and the Castle's TV News Anchor. He just wants to quit everything and live a peaceful life making pizza, his real dream.

Mr. Gus (Gustavo) - Gustavo in the Role of Noisette: Mr. Gus is Captain Crackle's pirate sidekick who serves as the comic relief character, always getting the short end of the stick and being kicked/thrown around the place for comedic effect. His actor, Gustavo, has a similar story to Peppino's, working for the castle, trying to sustain a living. He owns a secret soda tavern hidden from where his boss can find it.

Mr. Lollygagger - Pizzahead in the Role of Mr. Stick: Teddy's accountant who both does and doesn't take his job seriously. He pulls many gags toward his patrons to get them to comply with his offers and tries to pose as a nice, patient, and understanding accountant who needs money in exchange for a good offer. Ted's annoyed by him, A LOT.

Sapphire - Snick in the Role of Brick: An adventurous, rule-breaking, and cocky rock candy Porcupine who loves to skate on his hoverboard at the speed of sound. He becomes friends with Suzy after pestering her rule-following morals and later helps her and Teddy's journey.

Murray Muffinman - Pepperman in the Role of Gerome: An experimental artistic genius restrained to the role of maintaining the paint job of the castle. When he's on break he goes to his supply room to unleash his creativity through all sorts of mediums. He can be found all over the castle. He will reward his own art if he is helped to find his supply room.

Gumther Gumdrop - Vigilante in the Role of The Priest: Gumther is a farmer who grows sweet-tasting fruits that grant magical healing abilities. He sells his fruits in fruit stands all over the castle but it comes with a price.

Butler Scotch - Gerome in the Role of Pepperman: Scotch is the butler of the Royal Candy Family, who were the original owners of the castle before signing an agreement with Candyboy Corp. Scotch is the first boss Teddy has to fight due to one of the Royal Candy's prince (originally intended to fight Ted) left Scotch to stand on guard as he goes out for lunch.

The Pope - The Priest in the Role of The Vigilante: The leader of the Caramelist religious group and overseer of the Basilicaramel Church. After Teddy destroys the church during one of the levels, The Pope seeks to cleanse Ted of his sins by fighting against him.

Granny Candydimples - Granny Pizza in the Role of Pizzaface: The oldest member of the Royal Candy Family who was demoted and forced to the role of the CEO's assistant. She's kind-hearted and honest with no ill intent unlike her boss, going out of her way to disobey him sometimes.

Uncle Candiesworth - Pizzaface in the Role of Granny Pizza: The Uncle of the Royal Candy Family. He's one of the few family members who rebels against Candyboy Corporations and agrees to help Teddy and his friends destroy the castle. He's grumpy, bossy, and insults people constantly, but he has a good heart.

The Teddy Doll - Role of Fake Peppino: A cursed doll resembling Teddy. It's been presumed to have been cursed with dark magic, cast on by a cult. It is unknown what the purpose of this doll was for. All we know is that you won't see it in the same place it was left at the second you turn your back towards it.

Cookie Blair - Role of Mort the Chicken: Oh boy! It's Cookie Blair from the hit 90's 3D point-and-click PC abandonware game Cookie's Bustle! Watch as she and Teddy travel across Cookie City as Ted tries to hide Cookie from the police trying to remove her entire existence for good. (To whom it may concern (looking at you), I am not profiting off this project, therefore not profiting off Cookie's Bustle. Please don't copyright strike me or this project.)

Nezukira - Brick in the Role of Snick: Nezukira is the world-famous thunder rat character from the equally famous elemental critter collecting and fighting video game "Sackicritt". Nezukira is heavily merchandised with its adorable appearance; from plushes, socks, gummies, and cigars. Besides Nezukira, there are several other Sackicritts to obtain, with "Net Handlers" who accompany them.

Jen Beam - Role of John Pillar: Jen is the older sister of Butler Scotch. She is the caretaker/ruler of all the levels in the castle, making sure that everything is in order and won't crumble to the floor. She guards the door to each "dimensional control room" that deactivates the levels in the castle. She will only let people pass if she is given gourmet candy with the finest ingredients.

Candyboy - Role of Pizzaboy: Candyboy was the prime mascot and face of Candyboy Corporations. He's a happy-go-lucky, fun-loving, eccentric kid with all the childhood innocence packed into one. He loves candy and is very marketable. Despite Candyboy's innocent presence being long gone, he is still the face of the company.

The Candyman - Role of Pizzahead: The Candyman is the man behind the whole corporation, mostly know as the CEO. Not many have had the chance to meet The Candyman in person, but he's been said to be demanding, ruthless, and manipulative to get what he wants. He will do everything to gain the title of being the best confectionary business. If it exists, he wants it in his company.

---------------------

And that's it for character introductions! I am planning on adding characters that will be entirely original in this AU like new friends that will accompany Ted, new bosses, and other characters that will build the world for this AU. Other stuff such as levels, music, and game mechanic ideas are in the works too. Lots of stuff is planned for this AU project!

If you want to make fan art for Confection Castle, go ahead! I love fan art! Just make sure to tag me if you post it. Other fan stuff like music is cool too!

Thanks for reading y'all.

(Also, I am not planning on making this an actual game as I have no experience with coding or stuff that is needed to actually make a game. But if anyone with experience with game design wants to make it happen...hit me up haha.)

[corrodedcoughin]

This might be the second worst thing that’s ever happened to Gareth while wearing these stupid shorts, or in general he guesses. The first being when he was in gym class and the got caught on the fence he tried to hop in order to skip said class, successfully exposing his lemon yellow carebear boxers, the only pair he had left because everything else was in the wash. Luckily it was only the gym teacher, Mr Carrey, and Linda Stern, a girl that kept to herself so unlikely to share such scandal. Neither brought it up again but that doesn’t mean Gareth was free of the memory, or free of reliving it whenever he opened his drawer to pull out some underwear.

But it’s not just the shorts that tie Gareth’s ‘most embarrassing and traumatising events of my life so far’ memories together. No, the instigator of both of these events also keeps them joined in Gareth’s mind. Edward Munson. It was Eddie who insisted that skipping class while in said class would be the smartest move to make ‘think of it Gareth, imagine it, skipping right under Mr Carrey's nose? He'd never expect it! High class rogue moves for sure!’

So of course Gareth was convinced by Eddie’s manic eyes and excitement and successfully flashed his gym teacher while the mastermind was laughing and pulling him down off the fence. Mr Carrey must have felt sorry enough for Gareth to let him run and isn’t that a fun addition to an already horrific memory?

Anyway, back to Eddie Munson; worst person to enter Gareth’s life. Because now? Now Gareth is stood outside a stupidly big and stupidly fancy house, in the offensive (now repaired, thanks Granny) gym shorts, and a pair of plastic and bent out of shape fairy wings. Originally he was supposed to be in a white vest too but he drew the line there, adamant he’d be wearing his Iron Maiden shirt to save some sort of dignity. And to top it all off it’s a beautiful day so of course people are out mowing their lawns, families are walking their dogs, children are playing in the streets and just enjoying the surprisingly mild february weather. All of them staring, quite obviously, at what they see as a strange teenager in wings being shouted at by an equally strange kid hiding behind a, not nearly big enouhg, bush for ‘stealth reasons’ apparently. 

‘RING THE DOORBELL MAN, COME ON!’

Gareth slowly turns to look over his shoulder to glare at Eddie who is peaking around the shrubbery. 

‘YOU RING THE FUCKING DOORBELL!’

‘GARETH YOU PROMISED! DON’T BE A DICK’

‘YEAH, BECAUSE YOU TRICKED ME!’

‘NO I DIDN’T, YOU SAID YES NOW RING TH-’

Of course that’s exactly when the door to the stupid house opens and the reason Gareth is here steps into the doorway. 

Gareth grits his teeth and begins to recite his lines ‘Steve, o steve. You are beauty that has to be seen to be believed. Wont you be mine until the end of time?’ He finishes and stands glaring over Steve fucking Harrington’s shoulder

‘DO THE FUCKING REST GARETH’ Eddie’s voice emanates from somewhere to the back of Gareth, probably still hiding behind the stupid bush. So Gareth ‘does the rest’ he does a very slow and deliberate 360 spin before crouching down to one knee and shooting a plastic bow and arrow at Steve’s chest. Of course the arrow just rattles to the floor, sad and pathetic, just like it’s shooter Gareth thinks to himself. 

‘Gareth? Why…umm, are you okay?’ Steve is obviously trying to hold back laughter and doing a terrible job of it. His face is convulsing like he’s just eaten a whole lemon, rind and all. And well, who knows, maybe he has, maybe it's a secret trick for keeping his hair so big, Gareth isn’t here to judge, he just wants to leave. 

‘Dude please just answer the question and put me out of my misery’ He’s still half on the ground and his knee hurts and it’s hot and he’s kneeling at Steve Harrington’s fucking door dressed as a fucking cupid because he couldn’t say no to his fucking stupid fucking best friend. Gareth pulls himself away from thoughts of despair when he sees Steve’s mouth open to speak. He’s got one hand on the door frame, the other on the back of his neck

‘Oh, uh, yeah? I mean, yes? This is for Eddie right?’ Gareth stopped listening after the initial ‘yeah’, instead standing and turning to the, very small, hedge Eddie was doing an awful job of concealing himself behind 

‘HE SAID YES. CAN I GO HOME NOW?’

Suddenly there's a whoop and an air punching Eddie Munson who realises he’s exposed his ‘perfect’ (shitty) hiding spot and is in full view of Steve. The idiot even tries to play off the air punch by combing his hand through his hair which obviously gets stuck on his rings and then tries to play that off by just keeping his hand in his hair while waving with the other, not trapped hand. With a violent yank he manages to free the entangled fingers with only a small whine.

‘Uhh…Hi Steve’ Eddie says with a dopey smile and somehow, somehow he’s got an equally lovesick looking Steve smiling right back at him ‘Hi Eddie’. At this point, Gareth has quite frankly had enough, Eddie and Steve are slowly walking towards each other like some romcom end of the movie scene and he’ll be dammed if he’s watching those two tragically flirt at each other. So he grabs the van keys out of Eddie’s pocket as he passes, resigning himself to an hour of shooting Eddie’s empty cans in the back of the van while he waits. Gareth is almost off the lawn when Eddie must get brave

‘NICE SHORTS BY THE WAY CUPID’

‘FUCK YOU!’ Gareth snaps the arrow in two trudges off, wings flapping behind him.

—---

Three weeks ago

Gareth was at his desk, he was trying to practice some drum rhythms when Eddie flounced in and dramatically dropped onto his bed. For the past half hour Gareth had been regaled with yet more ‘reasons why Steve Harrington is my dream man’ from Eddie 

‘You don’t understand man. He was just driving and the Eagles came on. Don’t look at me like that, I know it’s the eagles, but it was life in the fast lane and he was singing along to it dude. The line! You know the one! I swear it was an instant hard on, thought I’d came by the end’

‘DUDE STOP. STOP. I’ll do whatever you want just please never talk to me about your Steve related dick events again’ Listen, Gareth loved Eddie, he did. But there's only so much a man can withstand and Eddie could monolgue for hours if given the chance.

‘Whatever I want?’ There was no obvious devious tone here but Gareth still should have known better than to agree. If he had clocked Eddie's face he would have seen an expression so devious that he'd be running out the door.

‘Yes! Fuck, just no more. My ears are never going to feel clean again’

[sutjak]

Fight Club headcanons ↴

Narrator

Autism food kinda guy, chicken nuggies (unseasoned) and apple sauce

Puts random shit in his mouth and accidentally eats a lot of it

Prefers weed tbh (NO edibles)

Wears women's undergarments

Outwardly masc

New Jersey :(

Really likes muted colors, Tyler's clothes sometimes give him headaches

Has been institutionalized before for sure

Very gay (he doesn't know)

Definitely threatens suicide and will go through with it just to win arguments

Subby for Tyler but also emotionally manipulates him (they are equals and as bad as each other)

Pervert in an Edwardian type of way, very shameful

Has a special blankie at the house that he hides from his roommate

Libertarian(?)

Tries to pet every animal he sees

Bitemark scars inside his mouth

Extreme cattiness

HATES kids

Marla is his manic pixie dream girl (platonically)

Tyler

Psychological warfare turns him on

Anarcho-communism all the way

Wears femme men's clothes or women's shirts and sometimes will wear dresses for Narrator

Disaster Bi slut

Cheats on Narrator all the time (no he doesn't get away with it, there have been many broken bones)

Over spices his food to the point of inedibility for everyone else

Hotboxes cars with cig smoke because he's an asshole

Actually decent at chess

Will do anything for $20

Versatile power bottom/bossy top

Emotional toxic masculinity

Probably is a baby daddy

The one who meticulously catalogues and restocks the first aid

Only reason Tyler has a driver's license is because he fucked the girl at the DMV

Crust punk in highschool (ew)

From North Carolina

LOVES cars, very much a car guy

Violent snuggler

Adores children

Is also misanthropic

Dad rock listener

Marla

Bestfriends with Narrator (even if he denies it)

Likes to make friendship bracelets

Nymphomaniac

Beautiful Princess Disorder :)

Shopaholic

Doesn't use labels

Very physically affectionate

Likes Narrator more than Tyler

Smells like rotting flowers

Not much of a drinker, only benzos and nic

Pretty goth gf why wont anyone date her :(

Wears briefs no bra or very complicated lingerie (no in-between)

Femme Fatale

Has killed a man

Crochets stuffed animals and granny square blankets

Listens to shitty Pop music unironically

Spearmint kind of girl, FUCK peppermint

Loves those stuffed gnomes you find in a Khol's and has a collection in her closet

Bitter foods are her favorite

Award for most STDs at one time

Breeding kink

Chicago girlie

Passenger princess all the way, never learned to drive

[ineffable-sideburns]

I just had a breakthrough earlier today in analyzing Aziraphale through Discworld and things Terry Pratchett said/believed so I’ll be manically typing that whole meta out later today and submitting it at like 2 am but here’s a taste…

"There's no grays, only white that's got grubby. I'm surprised you don't know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people like things. Including yourself. That's what sin is."

-Granny Weatherwax, Carpe Jugulum

[tirzahstears]

i had a girl who used to call me peach, the word slipped from her mouth like the syrupy sweet frozen fruit my mum would give me as if to say please eat something. please. we have enough this time. the fuzzy outsides always made my skin hurt but it was worth it for the sweet fruit i scarfed back like my stomach had never been full before.

my grandmother used to make plum muffins with the sourest fruits she could find. they baked into something sweet, something soft. something that fed me. my mom made plum muffins today with the sour plums from the grocery store and i was brought to tears while i ate two of them fresh out the oven. they were better than granny's. she's not dead. she's not dead but i don't know if she'd want me if she found out what i really am. i ate another muffin and it tasted like dusty summers away from home my house.

i ate three nectarines today without even stopping to breathe. the juice dripped down my chin as i swallowed them down without chewing like i hadn't eaten in years. when i was a kid my grandparents would come with a box of cup noodles and kraft dinner and tinned peaches and i thought it was a gift because those were all of my favourites. i thought christmas hampers were like winning a contest and food bank trips were like grocery shopping where my mom never panicked. i ate those nectarines until i felt sated and i almost cried. they were sweet and sour and i nearly chipped my tooth on the stone on the inside.

i used to try plant cherry seeds and mango pits in my garden so we would never run out. so my mom would never give me half her plate again without filling up her own. so there'd be something for her to fill it up with. i didn't know how to grow stone fruit but i grew like one anyway- i grew with with a soft, sweet, nonthreatening exterior but something inside of me that will chip your teeth if you bite in the wrong spot. nobody planted my heart in their garden and watered it daily. my sugary exterior was consumed almost manically, in plum muffins and not-yet-ripe nectarines, in fear of having it taken away if it didn't go now now now. i grew like stone fruit, but nobody replanted me with hope in their heart. i held it in my own, deep within the tooth-chipping pit that i slipped between damp paper towels, waiting for it to sprout.

[calder]

Somewhere in America, a plain, able-bodied man of average build was selected for entry to the local Vault by the Societal Preservation Program. His name and history are lost to time. Shortly before the bombs fell, this chosen test subject heeded the instructions of Vault-Tec, and was able to reach Vault 77 safely.

At the end of the world, the unremarkable man approached the gaping maw of his new home, but nobody came to greet him. He called out, and, hearing no response, searched for signs of his new neighbors. In the second hour, he beat his fists against the indifferent Vault door in a display of despair, crying out for it to reopen. "You forgot all the other fucking people!!" he screamed in futility. As the bombs fell, his pleas filled the vacuous bunker, resonating weakly throughout its chambers, never to be answered.

Some time thereafter, the lonely man awoke to cries of regicide. The King had been found murdered in a grisly fashion, his head torn from his body. The dweller of Vault 77 called out to the merciful Lord, and the merciful Lord did not answer.[1] Losing his composure, he roiled in the throes of manic paranoia for some time.[1][3] The man could not imagine that Granny or Reverend Hound were capable of such a brutal act, leaving the Boy as the only possible culprit.[1] Soon thereafter, the dweller privately confronted the Boy.[1] Vault Boy not only confessed to the murder, but accused the man of being his accomplice. The dweller knew it would not be long before the sheriff-reverend would come for them both, and resolved to flee.[1] He made preparations to abandon the Vault, with no choice but to work together with the ruthless Machiavellian murderer who had decapitated his master.[1] The man was eventually successful in leaving the Vault. Having failed to protect the King, he wandered the roads as an unassuming rōnin for some time, developing his abilities.[1] The unforgiving wasteland offered no wild horses to break, so he forged a bond with a giant ant named Mr. Pinch, and rode around on it.  Along his travels, he broke bread with a mysterious one-armed ghoul draped in the tatters of a Vault suit with no identifiable number.[1]

A friend to the meek folk, the ghouls, and the gentle beasts of the wasteland, he alone rose up against the tyrants of the region, and he alone reduced their works to bone and ash.[1] With Vault Boy as his right hand lieutenant, he stood in judgment of the wicked people of the New World.[1] Two hundred years later, guilty men speak in hushed tones of a mythical hunter of slavers, and the sight of his number fills their ilk with anxiety and superstition.[2] His legend haunts their oral traditions, as they dread ever more the merciless return of the stranger with no name.[2]

The location and living status of the dweller of Vault 77 are currently unknown.

[xiaoluclair]

20. Clumsy attempts at flirting

and/or

29. Visiting their home for the first time

Lestappen pretty please!! ❤️ thanking you and loving you endlessly!

live scenes of me visiting your house for the first time under the cut

clumsy flirting attempts + first home visit // lestappen // [ rating: T ]

"You have," proclaims Charles, "the most gregarious set of spoons."

Max sort of wants to run him over with a significantly large bus. Or kiss him silly. His father looks like he does not know what to do. Is, for once, terribly out of his depth. Fuck, maybe Max does want to kiss him silly. Charles, that is, not—

"Thank you," his dad lands on before Max can offer a trip to the local depot or scar his old man brain with things far from P and–or G.

"And your cabinets!" continues Charles, banging into said cabinets with his enthusiasm, "almost as — ow —luminescent as your eyes." He practically leaps over to the faucet to twist it on until steam starts fitting itself to the window behind. “Gosh!” because Max brought home a 1775 housewife, "and this water, almost as hot as," his eyes slant to Max’s dad. Or, the fire hydrant that has replaced Max’s dad.

Max takes pity on him. "We will be going upstairs now," he announces. His dad makes a face like an agreeable sauerkraut. Charles follows Max with a wave and a wink over his shoulder and Max seriously weighs the benefits of murder versus jail time.

"What the fuck was that?" is what he says instead after the door has shut. "Actually, I know what that was — why the fuck was that?"

"Hmm?" replies Charles. "This is you and your sister?"

"Do not ‘hmm’ me — yeah, first time rock climbing — and could stop being nosy and answer me."

With a great, heaving sigh, like it physically pains him to do so, Charles turns around on the spot and takes his face out of Max’s shelves. He is grinning. Rubbing his hip and grinning. "I did nothing."

Max lets his head fall to one side. Hopes it conveys something along the lines of what a load of bull.

"Really," insists wide–eyed Charles, "I was just making a good first impression." He is trying to adopt a straight face and failing horrendously. His mouth is puckering like he is biting his own lip. Max is this close to biting it himself. He might if No grievous bodily harm was not #7 on the Fake Boyfriend: Conditions Of Use list.

"Just because you think he was a bit of a dick sometimes—"

Charles snorts.

"—more than sometimes," corrects Max, "he is still my dad. Plus, he is generally nicer now."

"I just think he could have been generally nicer a bit sooner," is the genial reply.

"Next time," huffs Max, "I am asking Lando."

Charles harrumphs. "Then have fun dealing with your 'boyfriend' eating nothing but baked chicken and granny dodgers."

He looks so smug. He looks so smug, Max wants to strangle him with the silly Ferrari bedsheets he’s had since he was thirteen. "Okay, first, no more terrible—" Max’s nose wrinkles and his stomach rebels violently, "flirting with my dad."

Charles smirks. Leers in a way that makes Max question if he is still fully clothed. "You think you could do better?"

Max shrugs. "At least I would know not to call his spoons gregarious."

"Prove it," retorts Charles. "Tell daddy his spoons are not gregarious." And then he gestures to himself.

"Are you my daddy," asks Max, "or the spoons?"

"Clearly," says Charles, "I am your daddy—"

Just as there is a knock on the door. Only after he has opened it does Max realize his mouth feels like something out of unforgiving sun. A dried leaf, curled up and into itself. He throws a thumb into it to rub it down into something less… manic.

"Your mum and sister will be here by six," his dad says. He looks mildly traumatised. Max wonders how much he heard. “They are excited to meet your... boyfriend." Probably more than he wanted to, if the way he cannot look at Max for longer than two seconds is any indication. "And the tank is full for you both to shower."

"Oh, thank you," says Charles normally. Max fails to take advantage of the sweet second of relief from the universe before: "Would you mind showing me how it works? I have always been quite a... visual learner."

Max has always wanted a bus anyway.

[soniccrazygal]

Ok ok ok, hear me out.

An Au where Michael stays in Hurricane, but literally nobody cares that he's a rotting corpse.

Like, everybody in town knows the truth about him, and accepts him because he has beaten his murderous father ass like everybody wished they could have done.

He's the town cryptid and now owns the Fazbear’s franchise. Kids absolutely love him, and the grannies of the town collectively adopted him and their nephew.

When people said he was a rotten corpse, it was technically true, but there was one specific thing fundamentally wrong about this statement: Michael was alive. He was stuffed with metallic organs and something resembling an endoskeleton, but his brain was still functioning, his hair were still growing, his nails were still there, but instead of blood, it was Remnant and Agony that were powering him up.

Michael was the perfect immortality case that his father tried to become, because he was automatic, his own emotions and feelings powering him enough to live fully. Except for the purple skin and hollow eye sockets, but he was fine without them. Ironically, Michael was the thing Willaim wished to be.

Michael thinks it’s the perfect balance between his wish for forgiveness and guilt that he felt at the moment of his death, making him perfectly balanced between light and dark emotions. It was just a theory, and Micheal is no expert in the… magical side of things.

When Fazbear’s Frights opened everybody was furious, but Michael asked for a week to investigate after seeing Spring Bonnie/Springtrap being taken inside the attraction. Everybody reunited to watch it burn.

When Henry asked Michael, and Afton, to become a manager and mechanic to the new pizzeria, Michael wasn't sure. But the people trusted him, so he accepted. And Michael came to love his job. The kids called gim "the friendly Freddy man" because of his mask. And when the fire began, Michael was let out by Henry, because he still had something to live for, and he wanted to live now.

Michael sometimes has some manic inventor’s episodes that happened rarely, and nobody is brave enough to approach him when the only thing that Michael consumes is coffee, which is kind of useless for his dead body, but he likes it anyway. Nobody even dared to compare him to William, because the whole city knew that half of Michael's episodes were spent on proofreading the code and checking the safety of the robot. Michael was actually pretty flustered when his friend told him that. Not being compared to his father, after all these years, felt like an accomplishment

Aw… a surprisingly cute au idea.

[lollipencil]

The Dark Side of The Moon

This popped into my head and kept on knocking so, here it is. Enjoy and be gentle.

---

Marc Spector was standing in front of a cave.

A cave that had featured in many nightmares and, even as he stood there on daylight, he could still hear echoes of both that day and the aftermath. A shaking breath misted in the chilled air. His sweaty hands clenched so hard the knuckles went pale. And he pressed down as hard as he could.

The explosion shattered the origin of all his pain. Rocks and flame smothered that gapping maw, filling it up utterly. Never to trap anyone else again.

Silently, he turned to the two figures standing a foot away watching. “To new beginnings,” he whispered to himself. A statement that echoed twice inside his head.

---

Gravel crunched loudly as Steven staggered towards the house. Moaning, he barely noticed the gate opening as he desperately tried to not fall asleep on the driveway. Again. “Think they managed to get tío Fester?” Jake asked as Steven’s head knocked against the door. “Would be our luck the one time we aren’t there,” Steven’s yawn nearly sent him right off down the stairs, until a large pair of hands gripped him gently but firmly, “um, ‘Morning Lurch.”

Lurch groaned in greeting. Humming back, Steven allowed the body to be guided to the dining room. Seemingly in the time it took to blink they were seated at the table. “Good morning boys,” their mum cooed in her usual soft voice, “Terrible night?” “Morning. I was out for most of it, Marc or Jake would know more about it,” Steven stiffled another yawn. “Fair enough,” Morticia nodded, “We’ve had an...interesting evening.” “Oh? How so?”

Morticia quirked an eyebrow and looked towards their right. Someone was sitting, looking at them as if unsure how to interpret them and was afraid of that fact. “Oh, hello,” Steven blinked passively. “Had a long night, boys?” cackled Granny Frump as she came over with a smoking mug, “Here, this should reboot those brain cells.” The mug’s contents were a deep purple, foaming as it bubbled away.

Steven knocked it back without hesitation. And their mind cleared.

“Uncle Fester?” he asked with a manic grin, “Is it really you?” “I- ye- Yes!” Fester concluded with utter confidence. Confidence that waned as Steven’s arms were flung around him, vertebrae crackling ominously. “Oh, we’ve always wanted to meet you!” Steven grinned into Fester’s shoulder, “Dad’s told us so much about you!” “Now, now Steven,” Gomez chuckled, “Save some of your uncle for the rest of us. You three will have plenty of time with him in the future.” “Especally after some sleep,” Morticia added as Granny set his breakfast down in front of him.

“Right,” Steven nodded, still somewhat out of it, and tucked in. Everything else could wait.

[plantdad-dante]

Book #141 - Carpe Jugulum by Terry Pratchett

(Only Discworld can give me a character that reverse-infects vampires with their personality through their blood and I take it without question. Only Discworld.)

I have to open a new category: Discworld first-reads that kinda seem haphazard and weird until I get to the end and I see "oh. that was what this was about." and then suddenly I don't mind that the story spent 90% of the pages meandering through some woods with occasionally spotty action. On second thought, maybe that's a bit long for a category name.

Mightily Oats finds sincerity through a plot that would normally give him a manic-pixie dream girl to fall in love with, but instead he has Granny Weatherwax and they build mutual respect and I love it. Also, him flinging mud at Death to keep him away from Granny is my favourite thing to have happened in this book. Mainly because... it's such a small thing, but he does it with his whole heart, without second guessing or overthinking it. He just does it, and I love him.

There is something really interesting in the scene were the vampires talk to Verence and Nanny and Agnes at the castle. They, the vampires, explain their plan and everyone around them is too enthralled by the vampire magic to realize that what the Count is saying is grotesque and evil, so they just nod along to everything - and since we are in third person limited with our protagonists, it is left entirely to us, the reader, to realize it for ourselves that something is wrong. Because the Count makes sense. If we, like him, allow ourselves to forget that people are people and that just because vampires are powerful and alluring and talk in a sophisticated sounding way, it does not mean that they can be trusted.

Granny explains later that evil starts with treating people as things, but it is in this scene that we are first shown.

The Count, in his rational, industrial way of thinking, disregards matters of belief, matters of heart, matters of care and duty and righteousness and community. In his evilness, the Count disregards the sincerity of those he treats as cattle, and it is his downfall.

Because rationalizing evil, even if meant seriously, even if there is a logic to it, has nothing to do with sincerity. Sincerity requires the heart, and that's a thing the Count refuses to consider. This book is an argument in favour of radical sincerity in all matters of life and I think I need a lie down now.

Final note: Even though I am very annoyed with the current trend of nostalgia bait-y sequels, prequels and reboots everywhere I fucking look, and even though I try to avoid getting conditioned by it, and while the corporate machine has destroyed my perception of even the most sincere easter eggs of this kind... I still have to admit that I did clap like a silly little circus seal when Brutha's name first popped up.

[existentialbogwitch]

I love defining aspects of my neurodivergence wrong intentionally.

Some of my recent favorites are referring to time blindness as “my brain doesn’t believe time is real.”

Or saying “I’m sorry I’m late, time is my nemesis.”

Sometimes if you just lean into being the clown they let you get away with being weird.

I think about robin williams dying a lot and it helps give me perspective on my own life.

Being sensitive doesn’t just mean more joy and humor, it also means more pain.

Sometimes finding the balance is about finding the humor in dark places.

This is one of the reasons I love Discworld.

Nothing helped me confront my own mortality and fear of dying more than reading Shepherd’s Crown and reading about Granny Weatherwax’s death and imagining it was Terry Pratchett saying goodbye.

Star Trek is also very good for helping attain feelings of “closure” after abandonment because it is one of the few shows I’ve seen that show characters actively mourning a loss.

At least not done is such a way that is accompanied by emotional support from other characters.

I’m going to start rewatching episodes again because I want to gather data for a project I have an idea for.

Insomnia is the worst but at least my mood is ok.

Honestly being a little bit manic and weird is preferable to whatever was happening with me last year.

I feel so much better and I really hope this lasts but I’m also trying to be realistic.

Also I am kite convinced every day that we are inching our way toward the apocalypse.

But in such a way that death is a necessary part of life.

The first step in creation is destruction.

I have only two modes: annoying Star Trek future optimism and deep existential depression. At any given movement my mental state exists on a spectrum somewhere between these two things.

I am obviously over generalizing for the sake of poetic expression.

See the field in which I have planted all of my fucks and notice that it is barren.

I’m bringing back 2012 tumblr and mentally watching twilight on repeat while leveling my night elf mage but not talking to other people and mostly just collecting herbs tbh.

Manatees are under rated. This is not a hot take, it is a FACT.

There is an eclipse on Monday and my brain is like “hello, would you like every idea ever right now”

And I’m like “no actually I would love to sleep”

I am going to try to sleep now.

I watch the new Star Trek discovery and it was 😍

My favorite thing so far is Tilly’s adorable haircut!!! With bangs!!!! And saru and t’rina, my new favorite autistic coded character ship.

The abyss awaits.

[camaro-and-smokes]

May I feel?

My assignment for @harringroveholidayexchange 2022 for the magnificent word smith @chrisbitchtree 💜

Summary: Steve Harrington had an emotion. One he didn't want or like. At first, that is.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No warnings Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Tags: POV Steve Harrington Alternate Universe - No Supernatural (Stranger Things) Feelings Realization First Time Biting Mild Blood Unsafe Sex Eventual Smut Anal Fingering Anal Sex Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove Billy Hargrove Redemption

Read on AO3 >>

::::::::::

There was a dark red, raw, and bleeding emotion pounding in his chest. It radiated to his whole body, and drew more power from the other body he was hugging tightly against him.

He didn't remember the exact moment the emotion was born. One moment all had been dark, then the next the whole universe was brightly lit.

At first, in its infancy, the emotion had been just annoying. It had prickled pins and needles in the back of his mind whenever he shoved him, taunted or ran his mouth at him—or just looked at him.

He didn’t know when all of those things had started to mean more to him.

He had wanted to carve the emotion out right there and then with his bare hands. He hadn't wanted it. It had come inside uninvited, and he'd wanted it gone. Or rather, he'd wanted the one that this one had replaced to come back: a tiny, light blue one that had been innocuous, and safe. It might've never turned into anything else, never grown bigger, never turned its color into anything deeper—but it would've been guaranteed to last for life. No surprises, no difficulties, the road paved with gold all the way up until the very end.

This emotion was the total opposite. Even though it had still been small, it had hoarded all the grannies and nooks it had found to fit itself, and he'd heard it cackling while it hid itself into those cracks of his mind. It had lured itself into everything he'd been doing, even if it was just something small, as long as it had reminded him of him.

HIM. He was built like a god, with golden skin, long curly blond hair and the bluest eyes framed with the thickest set of lashes he'd ever seen on anyone. He was beautiful, he couldn't deny that.

But despite it, the emotion had been black and blue and yellow and purple—ugly like a bruise that just wouldn't heal. Painful each time when touched, and yet, he'd noticed himself poking at it willingly. Digging his fingers on it, and scratching it until it bled, trying to remove it in any way possible.

First it had been because he hadn’t understood why it was there. It was an emotion he wasn’t supposed to have. It was full of all kinds of wrongs and nos and nevers.

He hadn't wanted it. Still...

The sharp edges had pulled him towards it and he hadn't been able to fight it. They had torn themselves into the softness of his mind effortlessly like a hot knife into butter each time he'd met him. On the parking lot, on the school corridor, on the basketball court.

HIM.

After each time the emotion had slithered down into his groin and coiled there like a snake, making him hard by forcing images and words into his consciousness he hadn't wanted to think about, and even less to get hard from.

His words, his face, his touch.

The emotion had obeyed none of his commands or pleas, and it had thrown his world into a manic spin.

He had tried to make ways to get around the things that triggered it. And for a while it had worked.

Then one day he’d seen him at school with a black eye. He had made it loud and clear that it was from a fight in a bar outside of town. To him, though, his demeanor had somehow told a different story.

Worry, concern and helplessness had taken over him and bleached the ugly shades of the emotion for a moment. It was only later when he had realized—to his own horror—that the emotion had taken all those new emotions, blended itself with them, and grown. It had shed its skin and left bits and pieces, the prickles and the sharpest edges, to hang on the rims of his mind. Then it had weaved itself tighter and closer to his chest.

And so, he had started to cave in. He had relived his days of being in his vicinity in his dreams, and woken up in the middle of the night to embarrassing wet blotches on his mattress.

He had no longer wanted the emotion gone.

It had turned its color into the palest shade of red, and all the ugliness of it had vanished. The red shimmered all around wherever the emotion had found its way, in his chest, in his mind, in his groin. He finally had started to try to learn to live with it. With the smallest thought of maybe coming into terms with it.

Because he had noticed him in a whole new way.

It was then when he had noticed that the pale red of the emotion was now a shade or two darker, and it had triggered an endless turmoil inside him. He'd been a little scared of it, what could come of it, what it might make him do. And what—in all honest truth—it inevitably would make him do.

They had shared a cigarette, and as he had watched him inhale the smoke and lean his head back before blowing the smoke out, he had felt a desperate need to kiss his neck.

He had glanced at him, and a grin had tucked the corners of his mouth when he had noticed his stare. He had snapped awake from dreaming of touching his skin with his lips at his laugh, and turned his gaze away, blushing of embarrassment.

But he'd also known that he could hold it in only for so long.

He'd finally been brave enough to let the emotion surface for the first time somewhere where he hadn't really planned it to happen.

The party they'd been in had been already winding down when he had spotted him standing on the backyard alone, smoking. There had been hardly any people left at the party so he’d decided that it might as well be now or never to show the emotion to him. By then it had been already baseball sized and created an ever swelling nest inside his throat the further the evening had proceeded.

They had exchanged pleasantries, him being a little tipsy meaning he didn't quite choose the words he had meant to start with. But it had made him laugh a genuine laugh, making the emotion grow in his throat and tightening its grip throughout his body. He’d offered him a smoke, and invited him to stand closer by offering to light it with his lighter.

He had kept glancing behind him and inside the house to see if there were still other people around. A half a cigarette later, when he hadn’t see anyone inside, he’d known it was time.

Thinking of that moment had made him feel sick, but as he finally had been there alone with him, he’d been terrified. He could lose everything. Or then he could gain the world.

Heart pounding in his ears he had glanced at him. He had been explaining something he hadn’t paid attention to, his hand with the smoke vaguely pointing circles up in the air. He had looked down at his other hand that was on his side waiting to participate in what the other hand was doing if needed.

He had touched its side with his pinky finger. Just a brush, something that might've happened accidentally, innocent enough not to raise any questions from anyone if they saw it. They had been standing close enough to each other for that.

He had noticed the touch, and glanced down between them, then at him, with a surprised expression that had soon vanished when he had turned to look back ahead.

They had stared ahead of them in silence, waiting for the other one to act. Minutes had passed by—or so it had felt like—until he had taken another drag of his smoke.

He had glanced at him again, and seen that the hand holding the smoke was slightly trembling. And that his other hand was still there, on his side. He hadn't pulled it away, or turned to face him and told him to get lost.

So, he had moved his finger gently against his again, just to show that what he’d done hadn’t been accidental.

It had made him let out breath and turn his head to look at him. They had looked at each other, not sure how to proceed. He had parted his lips, and he had mirrored it.

He had felt the emotion rattling the cage he'd built for it. When he suddenly had returned the gesture of brushing his finger on his, his finger clinging to his for just a second, he'd known he couldn't keep the emotion jailed no more.

For he had known that he could be his.

They hadn’t known who’s room it was where they’d ended up. It had been empty, which had been enough.

He had looked at him biting his lip, nervous and visibly shaking.

The emotion had been dark red, raw and finally clawing its way out through his chest. And he’d allowed it to burst through, bleeding out, burning, yearning.

He had said something, but he didn’t remember what it had been. For he'd walked to him, and kissed him like he'd kissed no one before.

He had set his hand behind his neck, pulling him close and brushed his lips with his, drawing a sigh out of him. When he hadn’t fought it, he had pressed his lips against his. They'd been soft and he had licked them gently to get them to part, which they had done. Behind the taste of the tobacco and beer in his mouth there had been a minty aftertaste, probably from a gum, and he had liked the combination.

Soon the kisses had grown deeper, messier and hungrier. He had pulled the jacket off of him, and marked his neck with his lips, making him whimper.

Their hands had wandered all over each other’s bodies, hungry to remove everything covering them. The shirts had been removed along with jeans and everything underneath, all thrown haphazardly on the floor as they had moved towards the bed. He had pushed him to lay down on it, crawled on top of him and pinned him underneath him, him cradling him tightly between his legs, kissing each other all the way.

He had grabbed his buttocks, pulling him even closer to him. He had ground himself against him, making him moan the words he had so desperately wanted to hear: him wanting him inside him.

But he had leaned back and refused, wanting to prolong the sweet sweet moment he was afraid would be the only one he’d ever have with him. When he had leaned back down to kiss him, he had grinned instead of returning the kiss, and bit his lower lip hard, making it bleed.

With the iron taste in his mouth, as they had shared the bloody sacrifice, he had slowly moved his hand down to his groin and curled his fingers around his cock tightly. He had let out a deep breath into his ear, murmuring pleas for him to do what he had asked before.

He had licked his lips, still denying him what he'd so desperately desired, and moved his hand gently back and forth over the tip of his cock, smearing his hand with the wetness of his precum. He had praised him and his eagerness, making him respond with yet another moan.

Then finally the emotion had been screaming in his ears so loud that he’d had to give in. He had moved his wet hand to draw circles on the soft skin around his hole, slowly closing in to its rims. He had begged for him to penetrate him, and he gave him a taster of what was to come with his fingers, praising him all the way.

When he had begged and pleaded once again him to enter him, he'd given him what he had so relentlessly asked for.

The emotion had been circling him—them—as a wild whirlwind, pushing him to finish what he’d asked him to do. He had leaned up, and rummaged the nightstand next to the bed hoping to find what he was looking for. To his relief he’d found it, and leaned up to spread the lube on him.

As he had set himself back between his legs and kissed him, his response had no longer been desperate. It had been gentle, a perfect mirror of his kiss, his tongue wandering into his mouth and curling against his sweetly.

He had slowly entered him, kissing him all the way.

They hadn’t fucked. They had made love.

When they had reached the highest point of their act, he had made sure he was the first to come. His quiet murmurs of his name into his ear when he had shot his cum between them had made him come almost simultaneously.

Afterwards, as they had laid on the bed, him safely tucked under his arm, he'd whispered the words he hadn’t expected.

He’d wanted to do it again. But only after they’d had a date. A proper one.

Now that time had passed from that blissful moment, they were yet again laying in bed, him safely tucked under his arm as a small spoon, hugging his arm and kissing the palm of his hand with tenderness he'd only hoped ever to receive.

He nuzzled into his long curly hair and for the first time whispered the name of the emotion into his ear: "I love you."

[notasapleasure]

a meme!

Thanks for tagging me, @grimm-lynn :)

1. Are you named after anyone?

I think the intention was to name me after my dad's mum (who died when he was very little), but to spell it in a more modern way. Inadvertantly, it's also a portmanteau of my parents' first names.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I was very sick and very tired and very frustrated when the removal guys broke it to me midway through emptying the house that they absolutely couldn't take any of my garden plants over the Irish Sea because of fucking BREXIT. I was also very angry with my husband, who was meant to have checked this. In the end, we managed to palm the plants off on friends and family and we'll try to bring them over later, once we've looked at the paperwork involved.

3. Do you have kids?

No!! I have known for a very long time that I never wanted them and do not have even an iota of maternal interest let along instinct.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It has its uses.

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

My weekend hobbies as a kid were horse-riding and karate, and I played field hockey at school, did long jump and 200m sprint. But then, y’know. Everyone else got taller and I didn’t really. I dabbled in rowing at uni, because it was kind of expected that you'd try it, but my late-night carousing rather interfered with the early mornings. Also, as mentioned, I am short. Since then I haven't really done anything regularly except about a year where I got into weights. I'd like to get back into picking up heavy things and putting them down again, but I resent the cost of gyms and I need to have a structured class where someone tells me what to do, I don't have the willpower or imagination for solo training.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Hm, it's tough to describe (my mum would say 'their energy') but like...whether they're engaging with me, like really with me and curious about what we're talking about, or if there's that feeling that you're on the clock to prove you're interesting or whatever before they get bored.

7. What’s your eye colour?

Blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Weird things to compare?? But uh. Happy endings probably? Not in my scary movies though. I like scary movies with bittersweet endings. Though the more I think about this choice the more confused I get.

9. Any special talents?

I'm so bad at answering these things, my mind just goes blank and I'm like 'oh pffff I don't do anything special, there's always going to be someone who's better than I am'. Assigned Jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. There are lots of things I like to do and I try to do them well. I guess I will say that you probably want me around in a stressful situation - I'm calm and I love coming up with solutions to things.

10. Where were you born?

In a county hospital in a large and rural county of England.

11. What are your hobbies?

Ok, well. Writing, obvs. Fic and poetry now and again. There's an original idea that's been rattling round my head for a few years that I keep saying *this* NaNoWriMo I'll do it! And then don't. Art used to be much higher up the list but I'm so rusty. I haven't painted in years (...has it been over a decade?). Gardening (I miss my garden so much SO MUCH rn). Baking and cooking. I go through phases of manic knitting interspersed with a little crochet, but I want to improve my sewing - I have my granny-in-law's sewing machine I need to learn how to use. If we get this amazing house we’re looking at I’m going to have to get good at DIY, too.

12. Do you have any pets?

Two greyhounds and six (yes. six.) ferrets.

13. How tall are you?

5'1"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Art and English lit.

15. Dream job?

Not to be all 'I don't dream of labour' but I for sure don't dream of working for other people/companies. As you can see from the hobbies section, I like to DO stuff and be busy, but I like to work on my own terms and I like project work. So my freelance editing and proofing stuff suits me fairly well right now, though I dream more of a UBI that would let me do more with my time that wasn't just about earning, but could encompass more volunteering and community stuff. Being on furlough during lockdown suited me so well - I did so much and recovered so much energy that I was much more willing to engage with strangers as well as friends through video chat etc.

Tag fifteen mutuals - FIFTEEN?! huh ok, I’m tagging y’all but no obligation, right? And Idk who’s already been tagged, sorry if you’ve done this already and I didn’t see! @stripedroseandsketchpads @notfromcold @erinaceina @bellaroles @batri-jopa @donnaimmaculata @notabuddhist @kheldara @blxcksqvadron @boogerwookiesugarcookie @elwenyere @thatonelemontreeiforgorabout @jimtheviking @weirdsociology @rapidashmascot

[liquidstar]

can i get some ocs funfacts in this trying times?

I’D BE HAPPY TO SHARE <3

I’ll just throw out a couple random ones, but I’ll limit it to the main guild, unless you want specific ones :p

Polaris’s birthday is December 5th, but she fucked it up in the paperwork when joining the guild so everyone is under the impression that her birthday is May 12th. When they throw her a little party for her first birthday at the guild she doesn’t have the heart to tell them it was actually 6 months ago, so I guess that’s just her birthday now.

According to Saiph the top 3 social rules of the guild are: 1. Don’t hog bathrooms unless you’re practically dying. 2. Have enough trust in everyone to let them make fun of you. And 3. If Nix gives you any candy, don't eat it. (Polaris forgets the 3rd one)

As the guild’s barmaid, Felis has to deal with all sorts of people through the day- not just the regulars in the guild but people from around town who just stop by for drinks. This means she always has her fingers on the pulse of whatever the latest gossip in town is. Ask her for secret missions not on the board, that she heard about from a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy’s cousin.

Okay I’ve said it before but Venus used to be absolutely wild back in the day. Now she’s just “granny” to most people, but when she was actually active in her youth she had the alter-ego of Morning Star (Guess what weapons she used lol). Derived from the Latin name for the planet Venus; Lucifer. Her M.O. was sex and violence, with an arrogant and manic attitude that preceded her reputation. But she settled down once she was given actual responsibility and people to look after.

Ran is the only character I drew without her weapon (Excluding Ursa who doesn’t have a weapon) because she was actually a one-off drawing way before the concept of this OCverse was a thing. I simply brought her back for fun later.

Since all the characters are named after celestial objects, like stars, planets, moons, etc. it’s pretty natural to assume Juno’s namesake is 3 Juno- the asteroid. But it’s actually the space probe, Juno. He’s the only character named after a non-natural object.

Bella owns more stuffed animals than anyone in the guild, but they’re all in a box. Unlike Mira, whose count rivals Bella’s, and who has them all over her room.

A while back I ran an OC poll tournament for fun (Asking ppl to vote for who’d win in a fight) Imai won, which I agree with. I think she could take them all on at once if she really needed to.