#shout out to my mom for real

[dyed-indigo]

redrew this meme with my sona because. yeah

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

The Worm's Mother (2/3)

If I get to write this fic Leshy is both (1) the Main Character and (2) Literally A Worm Who Became God. Like he will be driving the plot, and the plot will be the Cat Takes the L and the Lamb suffers Religious Trauma. CW: rotting corpses and descriptions of Leshy eating them. I'm sorry. [Prev] / [Next]

His mother loved him. She would have told him if she didn’t.

He’d hatched into a cocoon of loam and root. His first bites, teeth still tender, had been of the sweet, sour, bitter nest around him. The darkness muted sound, but the warm pressure held his body safe sinew was wrapped in muscle, and soft carapace became chiton. He was kept patient by roots snaking through the soil for his teeth, sharper and stronger, to suckle on. In the dark, her heartbeat lulled him to sleep. When his claws were strong enough to dig, she gave against his touch.

Here, where loam touched clay.

Here, where the roots carried water.

Here, where Mother brought him blood.

The smell, the smell. The enlivened touch across his pallet, like cool water but sweeter, headier, thicker. He thought it was the roots, stupid worm, some incredible plant with red roots and black juice that ran so sweet he gobbled even the soil around the weeds.

He tunnelled up. He tunnelled out. He needed more.

He needed it until he bit into a kind of plant that would not shred (fabric, Shamura would tell him later), so he used his claws to tear into the fruit. The flesh. The flesh.

Fruit within fruit. Sweet within bitter. Tangy under salt. Textures his mind had no words for, a crunch that made all his infant eyes open for the first time, deep in the body of the great warm bloody dead plant-fruit he’d already eaten half of.

Ears, suddenly open without Mother’s embrace, wracked with sounds not from her or from him. If he wanted a fruit like this, so would others.

And if he was covered in its juice, others would eat him too.

He ripped the bones from the corpse and retreated back to mother. He dug deeper, and squirmed tighter, and never found the nest again (not that he had left much of it behind). But he did find a hollow where cold water pooled and no light came, and Mother did not warn him of anything save the swaying of the trees whose roots formed this burl in the ground.

He ate his bones. Like the fruit he’d torn them from, they were treasures wrapped in treasures. Soft meat, crunchy gristle, sharp and salty and when ground with his front teeth made his whole head vibrate before the deep dark butter within slid down his throat.

He slept after that first meal. Deeply. Safely. Mother protected him.

He went back to that grove (the battlefield, Kallamar would explain) several times, and brought bones back to the burl to eat and then sleep. The fruit was less good, less sweet, more pungent, kinda gross. He needed to dig a different path each time too, always too big after sleeping to squeeze back up the same way. Mother warned him with trembles, and sighs, and once a face-full of rancid (festering) water to stop retracing his path, to learn, and grow, and dig anew.

His legs sprouted, bringing misery. Thoroughly unexpected and unwanted, and Mother would not make the burl large enough for his new bones. It was not fair that the corpses’ bones had become his bones, no one had told him this would happen. The claws on his toes were not strong like the ones on his hands. They were not good for eating, or burrowing, or—no, scratching they were good for. Extremely good for. The scratching—oh the itching? Why itching?

His fur sprouted, bringing itching, and odor, but oh the scratching yes yes yes the scratching (the scritches someone else would say). Yes, all the time. So good. So, so, so good.

There was nowhere else to try his legs but the grove. The sun had turned the corpses putrid, and the flies had turned to maggots writhing in the last of the meat. Maggots were okay, like any other grub, but boring. No gristle, no grinding, no challenge. More bitter than meaty, and small. A snack. A boring, same-y, stupid snack.

He stood by accident, but mostly instinct. The sun was setting. There were no more fires. Fresh rain lay dewy on the trees and grass, covering the rancid smell of the blood where it was crusted under bloated corpses, no longer appetizing. He simply went from clicking his claws over strange thin loud cold stone (Kallamar would call it tempered steel with an oxidized finish. Shamura would call it shoddy.) to being taller than the corpse and the corpses around it.

Foot-claws were good for not falling, but that would take time and this time he fell and he shrieked and he kicked and now the bad-meat smell was his smell and EW. FUCK. DISGUSTING. HOLY SHIT I’VE BEEN EATING THIS?

The first time he saw birds fly was when he lay on his back in an unmentionable pile of viscera. The sky was the colour of an iris petal streaked with orange and pink. Thin white clouds like dandelion juice broke up the prism, and the black bodies of soaring corvids streaked by with open throats, echoing his own outraged trumpet.

He lay there for hours. Or maybe five minutes. He dug his claws into his mother and felt her ever-cool ever-present ever-real presence holding up his back and tail and legs and feet and arms and head, opened his mouth to the yawning expanse of new-evening stars in their crown of war-blackened treetops, and for the first time since his birth he laughed.

Two thousand years later, in a pumpkin patch and at the edge of twilight, Leshy will hear the birds and the trees and smell the green and the wet and feel the cool and present and real form of his mother beneath him, and for the first time since his fall and resurrection he will laugh.

But on that day, in the distant past, in a world he did not know and did not care to know of, the worm rolled over in the viscera to stand and gurgled as something stared back at him in the muck.

He blinked his yellow eyes at it. It blinked its green eye back.

Useless thing for a worm to have. A crown with a blinking green eye. No good for digging, or scratching, or chewing or eating.

He tried to eat it anyway.

No good.

But it felt good. And like that first mouthful of flesh, and that first glug of sweet blood, if it was good then it must be good.

So, he picked it up, and he put it on, and he walked (badly) from bloated corpse to dew-crisp grass, set his claws to digging, and vanished to show Mother.

Mother loved him. She would have warned him if she’d known.

[Prev] / [Next]

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[shamblingrevenant]

Um Bojči????

[aceforwhatevenisthis]

t-minus 12 hours until i have my flight and i’m still packing, wish me luck 🫡

[cartoon-skeleton]

I hate school so fucking much lol and I always just thought I was taking too many credits but this semester I finally took a normal amount of credits and it doesn’t matter. It’s not the amount of classes, it’s just having any classes at all. I feel like there was definitely a time where I could handle it but not anymore lmfao… this place was crazy. Sent me into my first real and scary panic attack, broke me out in stress hives, ruined my sleep, turned me into a mega hater…. smh. I know it could be a million times worse so I feel bad for complaining but it was not cool. All I can hope for is that my degree and good grades that I damn near died trying to get for literally no reason do me some good in real society tho I doubt it lmao

[peppermint-moss]

Last half of comic pages I drew of one of my FAV scenes that happened in the city of mist ttrpg game i play with my friends!! (feat. my friend’s character Citrus Clementine and his magic mind palace and his really shitty mother Meranda Clementine)

Part 1

commission info || tip jar

[delicatetaysversion]

you know it's bad when you hit the 30 tag limit

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

It’s the way I cried sm at the eras tour film and I really didn’t think I would

[blanketcat31]

just finished!! all my homework!!

i caught up on my communication notes, which is basically self study tbh, and i’m proud of myself for it :D

[nu-metal-confessions]

I'm so happy my mother raised me on korn and limp bizkit that is the best thing she has ever done for me (thank you mother <3)

.

[davidtennantpussytulpa]

had a dream that made me angry at my mom (normal thing for someone to have) but it was about her being a school director doing an unethical buildout (what the fuck?)

[aurelxi]

i hate the sentiment that it’s unhealthy to say other people made you a better person. people constantly make mistakes, and they can’t fix those mistakes without communication, support and stumbling. the only reason i’m still here is because people didn’t give up on my recovery process. still there were way Way WAY more people that gave up on me and made me feel like shit for ending up like my mom. it didn’t help because then my only support systems were my abusers.

what i’m saying is people are hurting for reasons. people desperately want to get better. they want to recover. they want to kick addictions. there’s so much people want to fucking do that we can’t do alone and there’s nothing to be ashamed of for that.

[agent-oo-z]

Hey tumblr what post did I like that made you think I’m Christian. I have suddenly gotten a lot of suggested posts about being Christian and like. I’m not that. I have an altar to a fictional god of death who I can’t 100% believe in because I know too much about the human brain and it’s pattern recognition and desire for understanding even when there is none. Im not exactly upset I’m just very confused

[halfricanloveyou]

ok so i watched the new superman show. thought it was just okay romance wise, nothing very exceptional. the animation was weak in a few areas, i think they should have just gone all out and animated it like an anime, like in the myx episode. loved that battle sequence too!! the rest of the animations with the fight scenes were kind of clunky imo.

character wise i think they’re all pretty predictable and fall into the same boring stereotypes. tenacious and ambitious/spunky ‘tomboy,’ goofy comedic relief third wheel black friend, OP main character who’s main trait is being both responsible for all conflict and saving people from said conflict…yeah. it’s literally danny phantom but instead of being ‘sassy’ clark kent just has anxiety.

HOWEVER…taking into account the episode with the loving and kind gay gorilla and his robot-body-but-human-brain-scientist-husband, clark kent being quite possibly the most peggable fictional character to exist, casually depicting lesbian moms, and most importantly being very obviously and overtly anti US government means i objectively have to give it a 10/10 and say it’s the best tv show i’ve ever seen in my life.

also…it’s definitely a kids show (like probably ages 10+) and i can only assume it’s on adult swim because the people at cartoon network are fucking cowards. let cool stuff back on prime time air and stop shoving it all to after hours!!! sometimes midnight is too damn late!

[daughterofsarenrae]

my attention span for reading comics comes and goes every day on a fucking whim