#spirits reborn au

[hellishgayliath]

By the way if you’d like to update pico’s Spirit design completely up to you

(Ya don’t gotta answer. I’m a super secret person ya would never guess who I am🥸)

How’d you know he’s been on my mind lately mystery person that is totally not Coko huehue

The only tweaks I made for his look was longer ears, a lion’s like mane cuz cmon that’s just cute, and different eye markings but it might change cuz I’m still indecisive on one I want to settle with. And the fun part is you can go crazy with the foliage that grows on his back, there’s no specific one way to do it cuz just like nature, it’s inconsistent and all over the place :D

Some additional stuff I wanted to add onto him. He himself is only tethered to the forest, he can’t leave it whatsoever. Maybe it’s cuz he’s the guardian of it or maybe just some unexplained mystical mojo is at play, but all he knows is he can’t step foot outside the forest. Another thing is the way he laughs, kinda similar to sounds regular opossums make, he gives off a “ch” noise. Also he’s always gonna be dirty and covered in dirt and grass stains and not really care about how he looks. But if those he’s assisting want to offer a lil groom he’s not gonna refuse. He quite likes flower crowns :3

OH and his favorite resting place is a giant weeping willow tree cuz those are my favourite trees to place in a fantasy setting >:0

(your babie is so cute I couldn’t resist adding him again @cokoweee )

[moonstruckdraws]

I took a break from what I'm working on by drawing Helli's son. His spirits reborn version! an rottmnt au by Cokoweee

It was refreshing to do, though it got me into a mythological and folklore mood (which is dangerous for me as I love mythology and spiritual stuff to my very core) and I'm going to try not the do a bunch of research and learning on it for the rest of the day

(I'm also Helli sorry about the fma reference- I saw the vision and couldn't not draw it)

[keyks-art-zone]

I could help making Corey and Ari as yokai from @cokowiii's Spirit Reborn AU. Based Corey off of the more bird-like Tengu (he looks so different with non-wing arms...) *explodes*

[v-albion]

We did it

Finally after months of work and scheduling, we present our giant collab!

Ok get ready for lots of tags and credits: @tangledinink @onionninjasstuff @less-depresso-more-espresso @dianagj-art @y0unginhumans @intotheelliwoods @red-rover-au @heckitall @bluesgras

From first image, we have

Villain pb&j duo Mikey by @onionninjasstuff

EMD Leo by @evenmoreofadisaster

Gemini Leo and Donnie by @tangledinink

Red Rover Raph by @red-rover-au

True Colors Donnie by @v-albion

Mutant Manhunt Raph by @baskeigh-ball

Spirits Reborn Mikey by @cokoweee

[cokoweee]

File name: Last days

Lil callback to the bad future au I did before it I guess killed me??? Just wanted to do the idea. Music brings up ideas and this was one of them lol

[cokowiii]

Masterpost-

It’s a work in progress

•🌧️🌧️🌧️•

Spirits Reborn-

The boy

The Ailment

Little Journey

He Smells of-

Who is That?!

⬇️

Just Another Day

Yuichi finds out

Say the words!

Can't hide the effects

Having a snack: I actually linked these wow

Human shenanigans

Let's talk- Part 2

Winter- Winter Cont.

What's off?

Get Out (Heavy CW/TW!Body horror, blood,injury)

⬇️

Vape 2.0

The server made me do it lolTHIS IS A JOKE⬆️

⬇️

Error 404

Actual first page is busted

⬇️

Another Peepaw Au: The name says it all

(I HAVE NO IDEA)

Nightmares Animatic!

The fanfic I might never complete tbh

Peepaw Rant!

Meeting his Son

⬇️

Mikey Vape Au: Mikey picks up a fun habit

Pages!(FINISHED)

They care...

⬇️

Random Animatics I've done!

Every. Last. One of them…

I love you bro

How old are you?

Cali in they feels

Something just Happened...

We're Alive!

I dunno tbh

Just woke up

Life talk

We got Beef!

NO RIZZ

Skittle Squad

STOP FKN CRYIN

A doll

Please stfu...

[citrenecult]

Reborn Gods AU: Kallamar

[mixelation]

hey after itatori move in together where does deidara live. alone? with some other poor sap? with them???

itachi wants a cat but tori doesn't. so deidara lives with itachi's five cats

[wolfasketch]

*points finger* @cokowiii did it!

[darkcatsangel1734]

I finished my drawing.

It would appear that Cali found a hidden library in the Forest. It's mysterious inhabits seem to be interesting he might just come back to borrow a book or two.

Cali belongs to @cokowiii senpai.

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 15

Word count: 2789 Warnings: some blood A/N: rejoice, for i am almost done with college (for this semester) and have much more time and energy, hence this chapter. consider it a christmas present <3

By the time the potato fortress was demolished, the bandage on Vince’s shoulder had grown soggy and heavy, and underneath dumb pain accompanied every Vince’s movement, occasionally sharpening into spikes. When Mick turned away to fiddle with the pot on the stove, Vince unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off the three-day-old bandage.

The wound didn’t look promising, with the skin between the stitches red and inflamed, and the thread dark and wet with blood. If it had been healing, the process surely was disrupted. This really begged for a doctor, but he had just refused to do that to Mick’s face, so going to a surgeon would mean admitting defeat, and Vince had enough of it today. Besides, while death of infection wasn’t among the ways to kill himself that he considered, but for lack of alternatives…

A hand grasped his forearm, startling him. The bandage fell onto the ground with an audible plop. Not paying that any mind, Mick silently dragged him to the door and then along the corridor to the sick bay. Vince didn’t resist. It made sense with Nikki. Not with Mick.

Izzy the surgeon wasn’t alone. A familiar redhead was sitting on the bunk in the sick bay and sipping beer from a mug. There was a talk in hushed voices going on, but it was, naturally, stopped as Mick barged in without a knock and unceremoniously shoved Vince inside.

“Take care of this idiot before I do,” he only said and, not sparing Vince another look, slammed the door shut.

“Wow.” Axl raised an eyebrow. “Never seen the old man so pissed. What did you do, hump his guitar?”

“I wish,” Vince jerked his shoulder, annoyed, but then the pain in it flared up, making him wince. Izzy the surgeon frowned, and Vince belatedly remembered he wasn’t supposed to disclose his and Axl’s connection to anyone on the ship. Well, that one reply didn’t mean anything, right?

“You got him so angry and didn’t even use the chance to hump his guitar?” Axl continued, making Izzy snort. That was the first time Vince heard him make a sound since he dryly informed him about that same shoulder wound during his first visit to sick bay.

“You seem unhealthily fixated on it, should I tell Mick to lock it up at night?” Vince replied half-mindedly, eyeing the surgeon nervously. Stopping in the middle of a conversation now would seem stranger than continuing it. Izzy, however, observed the battle of wits with no sign of surprise. No sign of anything, really. It was hard to see his eyes at all underneath the long, greasy hair and in the dim light of the sick bay.

“Oh, so he doesn’t lock her up?” Axl grinned. “Pray tell, where does he keep her?”

“Whatever you’re thinking of, I wouldn’t recommend it. You try to cross the galley’s threshold at night, you’re getting an early breakfast. Of lead.”

“Really? Does he also shoot at you when you go out for a piss?”

Vince nodded. He might have exaggerated Mick’s reaction a bit, to keep any night eaters’ hopes low. Just a bit, though, because anyone breaking down the closed door at night was guaranteed a couple extra holes.

“Oh you poor thing, can’t even go take a leak?” Axl didn’t sound too pitiful, more amused, and that felt good.

“Oh, I can. You don’t want to know where, though.”

“Ew-w-w!” Even Izzy couldn’t hold back a cry of disgust. Vince took it as his little personal victory. He had already learned that the reaction to this type of humor was deceptive. If the pirates didn’t love the joke, they wouldn’t say anything at all, and that silence could kill faster than staying in the same room with a dozen pirates who had beans for dinner. “Yeah, I’ll think twice before eating anything from the galley now.”

“Think as much as you want, you’ll eat it anyway. May I?” Without waiting for an answer, Vince reached out for Axl’s unfinished mug of beer and finished it off in two gulps. Watching Axl’s jaw loosen in indignation was quite entertaining. And reassuring, because whatever Nikki had said, those two treated him rather decently so far, even when he obviously overstepped the boundaries.

“You recovered rather quickly,” another voice said from behind Vince’s back. Izzy. “Surprising.”

“Really?” Vince abruptly turned on his heels towards Izzy. His face gave no indication of whether the last comment was meant positively or negatively, but Vince had a feeling that if it was the latter, the surgeon wouldn’t initiate the talk at all. “Why?”

“Well,” one corner of Izzy’s mouth curved ever so slightly, “last time you were here, you were trembling like a leaf and couldn’t string two words together. I didn’t expect you’d last the night.”

Not a muscle had moved in the surgeon’s face, but he tilted his head to the left slightly… it might have been the dim light of the sick bay and the shadows of Izzy’s hair falling on his face, but the nothingness of his face had an ironic undertone now.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you were rather… distraught. You lost everything you had, including your vir… dignity. You don’t look the hardy type to me, and that would be the easiest way out.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Vince said in a strangled voice. “If I die, I die of this infection that Mick dragged me here for. Stop talking nonsense and deal with it instead.”

“Hey, drop that tone,” Axl demanded, his voice suddenly stern. “Order your servants around with it- oh right, you don’t have any. Nobody owes you anything anymore.”

“Ax, relax,” Izzy said lazily, rising from his chair. “Old habits slip through in everyone sometimes. You, for example, still can’t take a shit when there’s someone else on the poop deck, and captain still expects us to know what minuet is. Shirt off.” That last one was addressed to Vince, who hastily pulled his shirt over his head. Izzy grabbed a candle and leaned forward, examining the wound, the candle so close Vince could feel the heat with his skin. He sure hoped Izzy’s hand wouldn’t slip.

“Let’s see… Haven’t I fixed it before? Yeah, those are my stitches… holy shit. It takes an effort to fuck up my work this badly. What you been doing with them?”

“Not me,” Vince said gloomily.

“Ah.” No emotion on the pale face once again. It contrasted especially starkly with Axl’s grimace on the background. “Well, tell the captain that if he keeps that up, he might lose his favorite whipping boy in a couple of months at best. This one looks fixable, but if they add up it’s gonna get real bad.”

“If I tell him that, it will take much less than a couple months.” Vince much preferred when they discussed his night pissing accommodations.

“C’mon, it’s not in his interest. It’s not like you can find pretty captives on every ship you raid. It was three years between you and Axl. Pretty boys don’t usually go seafaring – for obvious reasons.”

“But Axl said-“ Vince turned to the redhead, then caught himself. Izzy seemed aware, but to what extent?

“Yeah, he got luckier than you. Doesn’t mean that wasn’t one of the reasons,” Izzy interrupted him. Ah, so he was fully aware. Interesting that Axl didn’t consider it worthwhile to tell him about their little club. “Ax, get off the bunk. I’m gonna have to stitch him anew. Here, lie down.”

He pressed on Vince’s shoulder, pushing him to lie onto his back, then opened a cabinet and extracted a bottle of water out of it and a surgeon’s kit.

“Hold this.” He handed Vince the water. As Vince discovered three seconds later, it was actually vodka. A shitty painkiller, but better than nothing.

“Hey!” Izzy caught Vince red-handed sipping out of the bottle. “You parasite! That’s for medical purposes. Give that to me.”

“I’m self-medicating!” Vince protested, reluctantly handing back the bottle. The only upside of vodka was that it didn’t take much of it to get piss drunk, though, so he wasn’t too upset about the loss.

“For external use!”

“Why? If you want to clean the wound with it, why not just use water? And I could find a better use for this heavenly beverage.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job? Maybe you’ll patch yourself up too then and save everyone the trouble?” Izzy gave Vince a blank stare that impressed him more than any frown Axl could master. “No? Then don’t act all smart here. Stretch out the arm.”

He got down onto his knees next to the bunk and leaned close to the wound, carefully stretching the skin a little to get a better look at it. Then he cut the thread with small scissors and abruptly pulled it out.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Izzy rolled his eyes. “At least, not more than you already are.”

Vince wouldn’t have swallowed the insult so meekly if the surgeon wasn’t just about the only person capable of fixing his wound. Without the thread the torn edges of the wound widened, exposing black, clotted blood inside. Vince winced.

“Could be worse,” Izzy waved him off. “It just started to inflame. I don’t see any pus there so far.” Then he pulled out a patch of fabric and the aforementioned vodka bottle and, before Vince managed to realise what was happening, poured vodka all over it.

A second passed, and then Vince threw his head back with a howl as the liquid burned exposed flesh and the skin around it. Izzy promptly pressed the fabric to the wound, pushing Vince back onto the bunk, and held him down as he cursed and hissed. Then he began cleaning out the dried blood with the cloth, and Vince discovered he knew even more curse words than he thought. Thankfully, he did the job quickly enough for Vince to only cycle through his collection of curses three times.

“This should be a torture technique!” he protested once he was again capable of coherent speech. “Wouldn’t water do the job just as well?”

“No.” Izzy threw the bloody cloth on the floor. “Over my years of practice I discovered that the wounds cleaned with vodka or other highly alcoholic beverages have much lower chance of inflaming. And you need that chance. I can’t really chop off a shoulder in case there’s a gangrene.”

Vince, realizing this was a real possibility, went quiet. Izzy, meanwhile, grabbed a needle, threaded it and then dipped it into the flame of the candle. For a second Vince believed the thread would catch fire, but Izzy knew what he was doing. After a couple minutes of this he removed it, tried to touch it with his fingers, cursed under his breath and blew onto the blunt tip. When it presumably cooled enough, he grabbed the needle and lowered himself onto a stool next to the bed.

���Now hold still. You fidget too much, I’ll have to ask Axl to pin you down.”

“You don’t want that,” Axl, who until now had been observing the scene with an interest one would express to a circus performance, confirmed from the back.

“Aren’t you going to wait until the needle cools down?” Vince asked warily.

“No. It will hurt anyway.” With that, Izzy began to stitch.

The stab wound was small and only took him a few minutes to stitch up, but to Vince they were hours. He gripped the edge of the bed so tightly his fingers went numb, and bit his lips so hard he drew blood. But, for the first time on the Shout, the pain was inflicted without a purpose to hurt, and so he kept silent, save for an occasional pained gasp.

“All done.” Izzy rose from his stool and wiped his bloody fingers and the needle with a towel. “And you didn’t have to be all tough and manly about it. Crying actually helps relieve the pain.”

“Yeah, so you get more excuses to call me a pussy?” Vince huffed, sitting up on the bunk and putting his feet onto the floor. His bloodied knees poked out of his pants, drawing a disproportionate amount of attention.

“Whoa, man,” Axl whistled in amazement, “you seen his knees? To fucking shreds! The blowjob must have been insane.”

Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Huh. The captain sure doesn’t fuck around. You might want to get these cleaned and bandaged, though.”

“I might, if you two stop talking bollocks,” Vince said through gritted teeth.

“That’s only in your interest,” Izzy shrugged, wetting a cloth with vodka and handing it to him. “These can get infected too.”

“I- ouch!- know.” Vince dabbed the cloth onto one knee, then another. He didn’t even have to take off his pants for that, which was convenient.

“Any other injuries I should know about?”

“None that I recall,” Vince said curtly.

“Man, if that’s just his knees, imagine what the captain is doing to his ass,” Axl said from behind Izzy’s back. “Maybe he’s just too shy to ask you about it.”

“If you don’t shut up, I will do something much worse to your ass,” Vince promised.

“Oh-oh, so scary.” Axl threw his hands up in pretended surrender, but had to cut the act short to dodge from the candle holder Vince hurled at him. He promptly picked it up to throw it back, but Izzy was quicker.

“Stop that right now!” He snatched the candle holder from Axl’s hand. “I won’t tolerate a mess in my workplace!” For the first time Vince heard an actual emotion in his voice – anger. “Rose, get the hell out!”

“Hey! He started that!” Axl protested.

“I don’t care. He needs my services, and you’re here just to gawk. Get out or I’ll make you.” The surgeon was thinner and lighter than Axl, but Vince didn’t doubt for a second that he could easily do that. Axl seemed to be of the same opinion, because he got up and disappeared behind the door, muttering indignantly under his breath.

“You done?” Izzy turned back to Vince like nothing happened and crouched next to the bunk to look at his knees. “Well, you certainly didn’t try your hardest. Gimme.”

He quickly and relentlessly wiped up the rest of the clotted blood off Vince’s knees and bandaged them.

“Try not to kneel much in the next few days. Even if the captain wants you to. Tell him I said so.”

“I will make sure to pass your recommendations on to him,” Vince promised grimly. “After which he, in turn, will make sure to break every single one of them. Thanks for the help. Drop by the galley when you can. I don’t have much influence over Mick, but I can coax an extra mug of beer out of him for you.”

“You sure know your strengths.” Izzy smiled with corners of his mouth. “I’ll consider it. Now off you go.”

Well, out of all of “get the fuck out of here” variations this one was rather polite. Vince, not wishing to test Izzy’s patience any longer, left the sick bay and almost bumped into Axl, who was waiting patiently by the door.

“You could have told me that Izzy knows about us before I had to find it out by trial and error!” Vince poked him in the chest accusingly.

“Well, it didn’t end in error after all, right?” Axl waved his hand carelessly. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’d hold up in the presence of another person. I gotta say, I thought you had better manners.”

“Learning from you all,” Vince grumbled. “Anyone else aware you haven’t told me about?”

“Nope. Izzy’s the only one on this ship I can trust.” Axl sighed.

“Three years, and you’ve only made one friend? You’re not a social type, aren’t you?”

“I’ll look at you in three years and see how you’re faring,” Axl scowled. “If you’re still alive, that is. The captain sure is hot-headed, but within reason. You must be a terrible pain in the ass to end up so beaten.”

“I’m not-“ Vince began, but realized anything he said would be taken as proof of that. A pain in the ass, a bother, an annoyance. None of the pirates would ever see past this description, would never believe it wasn’t his fault. They believed their precious captain would never do that on his own volition, and together with general disregard of the “blue bloods” it was enough for them to shift the blame completely onto Vince’s shoulders.

He gave Axl a deadly glare and stormed down the corridor to the galley.

[hellishgayliath]

many thoughts about reborn pico are swirling in my brain. whether or not they want to be coherent is another story

oke

He is able to talk, his speech is just a bit more slower and pronounced(idk if that's the word I'm looking for) but it comes out much more clearer.

He is kinda like a forest taxi service of sorts xD As long as you give him the required items he likes, you're free to ride on his back

He loves hearing stories and tales and gossip from those he's accompanying

Depending on the season, fruit and fungi will also grow on his back and will be safe for consumption

Just like his I don't know I guess technically ancestor Pico (since Coko said this takes place FAR in the future) he's also able to communicate with the forest life too

He is not the petty revengeful type, but if you do disrespect him or his home or the forest life, your fate will just be left up to the woods and he wont guarantee you'll leave out of there safely..or in tact :D Fate and karma will make its way to ya bub

[krazycat6167]

So @cokowiii made a rise tmnt au called Spirits Reborn and I fell in love with it. Others had been making some really cool art of their ocs/sona in the world and I got thinking. It’s been in my head for some days and slowly evolved into a small Donnie-centric snippet that I will be putting under the cut (along with art of the sona remade for the au). Enjoy :D

~~~

Alright, Donnie’s lost. He’ll admit it. Nothing about this part of the forest is at all familiar. He is positive that he’s never seen that tree before. It’d be hard to forget, the trunk is short and thick with many knobs while the roots look like a tangled mess before they sink into the ground. (Actually, now that Donnie’s really looking at it, he’s not sure about the tree’s species. He had thought it was a type of oak, but now he’s not so sure. Could it be that he has discovered a new tree? Oh, he needs to document all of its characteristics so he can compare them against the trees in his encyclopedia! Oh, it would be so cool if- no wait, task at hand.) 

He’s lost. It’s fine though. The others knew he went to the forest today. Once they notice that he hasn’t returned yet, they’ll know where to search for him. 

He just had to wait in the meantime. 

…And maybe document this tree while he was at it. 

However, even his extensive data collection can only take so much time. Eventually he finds himself sitting on some of the tree's roots and staring at the dirt between his feet. 

It’s evening now. The sun will set and it will be night and he will still be lost. Logically he knows his absence would be only worrying enough for a search by the morning at the earliest. So until then, he’s on his own. In the spirit filled forest. All night. 

He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t scared. No, no! He was-!

“Would you like some help?”

Donnie let out a (very manly thank you very much) shriek as he scrambles a few steps away from the sudden voice, turns to face it, trips over his own feet in his haste and lands on his butt. 

There, standing amongst the roots, was a spirit (or yokai? Donnie wasn’t too sure where the line was with that) he hadn’t seen before. Their head was made of blue fire with a pair of solid white eyes that stared down at him. They wore a poncho that went past their knees. It had a gradient that went from magenta to orange to a pale yellow on the bottom. They held a wooden staff, topped with a crook, that had an old, kinda mossy lantern attached to the end. The fire inside burned blue as well. In the air around them burned two more blue flames the same size as the one in the lantern. 

“Sorry.” Their eyes scrunch up in apparent apology. “I thought you heard me walk up.” 

Donnie stares dumbly at the spirit (he was going to go with spirit for now) as his heart beats like a marching band percussionist showing off. He placed a hand over his chest and took a deep breath. “I didn’t.” He said in reply to the spirit. “And what did you mean by help?”

“You’re lost.” They walked out from the tree's roots. “I help those who are lost. I can lead you to what you want or what you need.”

The ‘or’ in that statement caught Donnie’s attention. “Wouldn’t those two be the same thing in this situation? I want to get out of this forest and back home. I need to get home or I will die.”

The fire spirit shakes their head. “No, what is wanted and what is needed are not the same. Often, what is needed is more uncomfortable but helps with what is wanted in the long run.”

“Explain that to me.” Oh, that came out more demanding than he had intended. 

The spirit didn’t look offended, thankfully. “Think of it like you’re staying up later than usual to work on a project. You want to work on it because you need the thing. However, you need to sleep. You don’t want to sleep because you’re in the groove of things and stopping in the middle of a groove is hard and annoying. It helps in the long run though, since getting sleep rests your body and mind, resulting in a product that may have taken longer, but is now of higher quality. It just depends on what you feel you need to prioritize at the moment; quality or speed.”

Donnie taps a finger to his chin. “I think I get it? I know what I want, I want to get back, however, what is this thing that I supposedly need?”

The spirit shrugs, “I’m not sure, I just know the paths to take you there.”

“Hm, frustrating. Can you point out the direction my want is in.”

The spirit lifts the hands not holding their staff and points to Donnie’s left, and slightly behind. 

So that’s the way out, but Donnie is curious now. “Okay, okay, and where is my “need”?”

They point to the right, deeper into the forest and away from home. 

Donnie’s tempted. 

Logically, Donnie knows he can’t. He has too many projects, responsibilities, and people relying on him and his work. He can’t drop it all now. He’s busy.

He hesitates. He’s madly curious. His want is to go home, and his “need” leads away from it, but according to the spirit’s analogy, whatever the “need” is, it’s supposed to better the quality of the want. What could possibly be deep in the forest that can increase the quality of home? A deep, yearning part of him wants to find out. To follow the spirit deeper into the foliage to find this thing that’s apparently missing from his home. He knows that if he wasn’t so important to multiple projects, even just one or two projects less, he would give into his curiosity and (surprisingly deep) yearning. 

“As tempted as I am, I need- I have to go back.” 

The spirit nods. “Come along then.” They start walking in the direction of the want they had pointed out earlier. The floating fires seem to playfully dance around each other as they follow. 

Donnie jogs to catch up. The spirit shifts in their path slightly so they are walking side by side. 

After walking for a few minutes in silence, Donnie’s curiosity rises again. “May I ask you a few questions?”

“Certainly, go on ahead.”

“How is it that you know where to lead people but not what you’re leading them to?”

“Simple. I am the spirit of journeys, pathways, the lost. I am the guiding light. I wander the spaces in between the beginning and the destination. I travel the roads and footpaths. I come to those who call or to those who need the help.”

So he was right in his spirit assumption (and now has a few things to look up. Has this spirit guide been told of before? Did they appear in any local folklore or stories?). 

“What’s with the..” Donnie’s gestures to the two flames, one chasing the other as they quickly wind through the air in front of them. “…Fire. Things.”

The spirit laughs. “They’re sprites. They’ve decided I was cool and have tied themselves to me.” She gestures to the two sprites. “They’re called Sparks, Ember,” they then gesture to the fire in the lamp, “and Blaze.”

Donnie stares. “Why is this one contained?”

The spirit chuckles. “They like to feel important. They take turns. Sparks is next. Sometimes I do have to use it for time out, but it rarely comes to that.”

“Huh.”

Another stretch of silence. Donnie watches Sparks and Ember as he turns over the information he’s gotten so far. 

“Has there been anyone who’s want and need where one and the same?”

The spirit hums. “There’s been a lot where they were at the same place, but only only a handful have had it be the same. It’s quite rare.”

Donnie guesses that, at most, there have been five such individuals, seeing as that was how many fingers the spirit had per hand. 

“When you said you were the spirit of the lost, do you just mean physically lost or does that count in the metaphorical sense as well?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Why sometimes?”

“It’s hard for someone to be truly so lost metaphorically that I’m needed to help guide them. They usually have some sort of direction or someone in their life who wants to help. Besides, some people who are lost in that way won’t accept any help. Ultimately it’s a choice on their part whether or not they want to be led.”

“So I could leave right now and you wouldn’t stop me?”

“I would warn you of the dangers, point you where you wish to go, but no, I wouldn’t stop you. I can’t help those who don’t wish to be helped.”

The sun has set by now. Their path being illuminated by the light of the spirit and the sprites. Donnie notes that the trees around them have been getting thinner, so definitely getting closer to the forest’s edge. 

Donnie tries not to look too deeply into the foliage. The deep darkness of the space outside the spirit’s light doing nothing to help his classic overthinking tendencies. Anything could be just out of sight. 

Donnie needs a distraction. He clears his throat. “So, uh, would the lost include, like, lost souls? The dead who can’t move on and all that jazz.”

The spirit's eyes crinkle in amusement. “No, I am no reaper. I do not guide the dead.”

“Coooool, cool, cool. So there’s no chance that I’m actually dead and this is a journey towards accepting that and moving on.”

“You are very much alive.”

“Alright, um, if someone had chosen their want or their need and changed their mind, would you guide them to their new choice?”

“Yes. Are you doubting your choice?”

“Oh no!” Donnie is quick to reassure. “No no no noooo no. Not doubting at all, nope. There’s definitely not an inexplicable yearning in my chest to turn around and go deeper into the forest. None at all! Just- was just curious is all.”

The spirit hums in acknowledgment. 

Donnie looks to the side and taps his pointer fingers together. He’s fine, he’s goooood, he’s great even. Definitely told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

Yep. 

…sheesh, how deep into the forest did he wander?

The spirit breaks the silence. “What's your name?”

Ah, they hadn’t done introductions. “I have many names. Othelo Von Ryan, Donatello, Don, Donnie, The Smartest Man Alive, just to list a few.” Donnie says. “And what of yourself?”

“I have been called many things. Wisp, Guide, Wanderer, The Pathwalker, Omen. Call me whatever you like.”

“Were you a good omen or a bad omen?”

“Depends on the people.”

“Right.” Donnie looks ahead. Sparks and Ember chase each other along the ground now instead of in the air. Good news for the forest, nothing is burned in their wake. 

“…Michibiku Hikari.” Donnie says. 

“Hm?” The spirit looks at him. 

He coughs into a fist. “The, uh, name to call you. Michibiku Hikari. It means guiding light. Maybe just Hikari for a nickname.”

The spirit seems to brighten. “Thank you for the name, Donatello. I will treasure it.”

The complete and utter sincerity of the gratitude made Donnie’s face feel hot and his chest near to bursting. He always felt like this when someone truly appreciated his gifts and said so to his face. It’s been a while since he’s felt this though. The high of being honestly appreciated, and just for a name that was a bit on the nose! 

They come to a stop at the tree line. Up ahead a clearing filled with the tents of the temporary base as he and his associates conduct initial surveys of the land. 

“We have arrived where you wanted to go.”

“Amazing.” Donnie whispers. He speaks up and bows to the spirit, “Thank you, Michibiku Hikari, for guiding me home.”

Hikari bows back, “It was my pleasure, Donatello. If you ever want to find what you need, simply call for me. I cannot promise an immediate response, but I will come.”

Thanks given and formalities done, Donnie straightens out, gives one last single nod, and walks to camp. The last Hikari he hears is her softly telling Blaze that it was now Sparks’ turn inside the lantern. 

The night is cold outside of Hikari’s light. Donnie folds his arms tight and speed walks to camp. He looks back once he’s at the edge of the group of tents, but no blue light comes from the forest. 

In his tent, to one side, is a small project he’d been working on. He can feel his hands itching to work on it. 

He goes to bed. In the morning, he pulls out his plant encyclopedia to uncover the species of tree he had found. 

~~~

[clemencetaught]

long hair!patrick?..... ✨long hair!patrick✨

[hershelwidget]

I’m in an Octopod type mood so here

The official spirit design! And also what it would roughly look like in some sort of transformers situation. lmao

Here’s what the spirit looked like in life/before inhabiting the ship

Pretty !

And now. Doodles that get progressively angstier

First one is a line right before Jarvis disobeys some very important safety orders. Second one is Jarvis a while after the Octonauts abandon them and the Gups, not fully understanding cause they thought they were protecting someone. Third one is Polly noting that the Captain broke a very special promise he made. Forth one is the both of them shouting that they never killed anyone (Polly because she never tried and never would, Jarvis because she did try and failed every time).

…bah! heavy stuff! i will come with fluff soon!

[cokoweee]

Once again weak to backgrounds 😢 and to writing stories. And consistency

The same start as before just a lil more before it

Receive the gift..||>