UPDATE AS OF 1/2025:I CANNOT DO ANY COMMISIONS. Please PM me if you wish to really, really try and persuade me (do not rec-o-mmend it.), but I would prefer and appreciate it if you didn't post reviews about them on my stories. Thank you.

Spark One: Breaking Through Boundaries

Prologue: A Leader Lost

He sat on his throne, covered in a cloak of gloom, a picture of his love in his hand. Once, a long time ago, his life was perfect. Or at least, it was perfect enough for him. But now… (sigh). He lifted the frame up to his eyes, watery slightly, as he remembered how it all began for this once-lucky rabbit.

Oswald was one of the first cartoon characters created by Walt Disney: a black-and white bunny, with human-like arms and legs, thick black ears and blue shorts. Made to perform, he would come to life on screen and show his talents to the audiences ahead of him. Once, he had opened his heart to the world; the world followed suit. Cartoons on cartoons were made, with him overcoming obstacles, facing baddies, solving problems, yet he always retained his happy-go-lucky attitude, his skills helping him on screen…

But then, disaster struck like lightning in a marathon. In the real world, Oswald's rights had just been sold to Universal, who would proceed to modify his character, and eventually, after a few productions, abandon more cartoons of his too. The world, including Walt, would get back up and move on. But in the Toon world,what was left of Oswald was dying.

He was starting to get weaker, along with his wife. That night, he went to see the one person who could help him: Yen Sid. The wizard had, upon request of safety, created a world, a world made out of Paint and Thinner, he'd explained. But with a frown Oswald had struggled to grasp the concepts of what he'd mentioned after that, about what was happening to him. Popularity, forgotten, a Heart… It was all a jumble of words, but he'd understood one crucial thing. This world would keep him and all those like him alive, at a cost.

No-one could leave this world.

Just before he went in, Oswald had seen a glimpse into what was happening in what the wizard called, "the real world". He wished he hadn't. In the mirror nestled among other sparkling bottles he saw Walt move on, to create another character, the one who stole his spotlight. He couldn't be mad at Walt, but rather who was with him.

Oswald would never speak the name he heard that night again.

But apart from that, he was absolutely ready to move on. Going in, he became the first toon in the new world. He wasn't alone. Abandoned concepts, forgotten characters and Toons left on the drawing board all followed suit. Working together they built a world of their own. There was joy and laughter in even the smallest of places. Oswald had built gardens, a cinema and even an ice-cream parlour in honour of the land Walt had wanted to wasn't exact, but its small differences made it shine, even if it was merely a shadow imitation of the world for the… well, popular Toons. He never stopped making contributions to the community he had, even formulating a unique way of travelling from land-to-land, a fleet of mechanical helpers and multiple attractions for all ages. Yes, there were the occasional jealousies, such as a statue of Walt and he-who-Oswald-refused-naming… But it was nothing that couldn't be tackled. A few modifications and –hey, presto!– the deed was done.

It wasn't much, but it was home. And Oswald couldn't lose his home again. Ever.

However, holes in the sky would open up every so often. And out would fall many types of junk, but one that the ruler of this land couldn't abide. One that always burned a hole through his nerves. Where he was right now, in the mountain, well, he was surrounded by it. No, in fact, it WAS the mountain. Mickeyjunk Mountain, it was aptly named. He would throw it here, so as not to dilute the pure vision he had.

And as time passed, Oswald learnt the truth about what Yen Sid had said. Forgotten Toons, those who had lost their popularity, lose their Heart. He was one of them. When he was in the Toon world, he was subject to what the wizard had called "fracturing", meaning he would be erased from existence. Now, thanks to Yen Sid, any Toon who lost a Heart would come into Oswald's creation and never suffer his pain from his woeful experiences during that doomful night. Yet without a Heart, no one could leave. But why would his residents want to? It may not have been much, he thought now, but it was, once, home.

Yet, he was not changed fully. His mind was often averted at the best of times. Most days, he would stare up at the sky with his telescope, trying to peek at the world above in those holes, where the mouse he loathed had devoted friends whom he had built replicas of. For company, he'd said. The world above was filled with the sounds of his enemy's joy and laughter, but no longer his. A world that had once been his but… it seemed, never would be again.

Things were perfect… until the Thinner Disaster. A bottle, but one the residents called the Jug, filled with Thinner spilt onto the once inviting world he had made, containing a monstrosity none expected…

The Blot.

An evil creature made out of black and very, very, very dark purple ink, who had no heart, literal and metaphorical. He took the paint and life-force of Toons, making him a force of nature… yet it was anything but that. In fact, it could even be called a force of "unnature". He was agonisingly tall, stretching up to touch the sky with no effort at all, and though he never spoke, the rumbling of clouds overhead seemed to talk for him.

He, his goons and the Thinner had taken all the life out of their world, dissolving it and breaking most of what Oswald had worked toward, sucking the cartoon life out of thousands of denizens, making them inert. It had… well, morphed into what now surrounded him: a Wasteland. But the citizens hadn't given up so easily. Oswald, his Gremlins, and all the other residents brave enough to volunteer, rose up to stop the Blot. They wouldn't let anyone just come and take over, especially Oswald.

And so began the Blot Wars.

Overall, it was a mixture of success and failure. Everyone who could, pitched in, while those who couldn't, stayed behind and set up defences. The threat was not invisible: It loomed over Wasteland and cast its inky shadow on everything. It went on for an almost unknown amount of time, battles happening day-to-day at any moment, slowly reclaiming their rightful land. But when all seemed lost, and their forces weakened, Oswald knew he could rely on his friends to help.

Yet, his best friend, the Mad Doctor, revolted. Switching sides, he turned on him and his wife, and Oswald felt extremely… betrayed. He went after him, and once they had their confrontation, Oswald knew the time had come to end the war, with all they had left, before the Doctor launched his own deadly attack. He was not one to back down from a challenge; sorrowful memories of his perseverance were proof enough. So, after days of preparation, Oswald rallied all the allies he had.

And as all his citizens, fellow toons and family joined him, he began the final battle, their final stand and – what was planned and what would be – the end.

Every thought was carefully made towards their plan, every preparation was made to gather the materials, every detail meticulously thought out and nothing spared. Oswald ran through the plan once more: He was to lure the Blot in using paint, and once close, trap him in the Jug. Should it fail, he would use the strongest bait they could have had to attract the Blot into pouncing, with the Jug behind him. Once in, he would lock the Jug with the cork they had salvaged. His wife, Ortensia, had offered to help but Oswald had told her to stay in her house. He could not run the risk of anything going wrong. One Gremlin, Gremlin Gus, wasn't sure still. The oldest and wisest, he stopped Oswald. He couldn't understand at first what the bait was. Only on seeing the look on Oswald's face did Gus realise: the question wasn't what. It was WHO.

The first part of the plan had worked out perfectly. He had managed to grab the Blot's attention, and get him to come over to the Jug. The Toons kept his attention on Oswald as he led him over to the one place none of his inky lackeys could get to. But after a while he realised he was staying as far away from the Jug as possible, while trying to attack. Then, out of nowhere, Ortensia appeared, running up the mountain, but no matter how much he insisted, she stayed on the mount. They were all alone then, and the final stand had officially begun.

The Blot swerved from the left to the right as the pair of them had tried multiple attacks. They jumped up and down with buckets of paint in their hands, but the menace knew better… mostly. Then they shot multiple cannons, filled with spheres of Thinner. He dodged, only one being absorbed into him. It isn't working, he remembered thinking. So he initiated his final trap, and started waving and jumping, grabbing the Blot's attention. The Blot stopped its attacks, and for once, considered what to do. Obviously though, the Blot couldn't resist: the life force of the oldest Toon ever? To take? It was a no-brainer. And, after all, the Mad Doctor had already informed him of the trap he'd oh-so 'meticulously' placed… He could stay clear AND get Oswald…

After enough taunting and jumping, the Blot levelled with Oswald and as soon as he stood still… he POUNCED.

But, then, just as the Blot came rushing toward him, to absorb his paint and take his consciousness, and to be secured in the Jug conveniently behind him, something happened.

Maybe if she weren't on the mountain… It was too late now.

His sacrifice was in vain; Ortensia was not ready to let that happen. Ortensia had pushed him out of the way, knocking him to the floor, and sacrificed her life for all of Wasteland's. All the goons around Wasteland were not affected, and if so, not massively. They had and were still rampaging around as hazards. But none of that mattered to Oswald in any way whatsoever, or at least, it didn't anymore; his entire reason for living had been obliterated.

He was conscious enough to put the cork on the Jug and, with the help of his fellow Gremlins, seal the Blot whence he came. Drippings of it managed to escape, but it was meaningless to Oswald. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forgive himself for what he had let happen. He was the reason why Ortensia was inert, unmoving, a statue that never let Oswald forget what happened. He tried to move on, to celebrate with the citizens of Wasteland, but everywhere he looked, he saw her. What to many was their biggest victory in years, was the worst failure Oswald could have witnessed. Eventually, he thought, still in his own misery, he had drowned in his sorrow and could never surface.

As time passed, this became more obvious to the Toons. Gus had already picked up on this, and tried to put him at ease, but it was rarely fruitful. He slowly started to become vulnerable, first by missing meetings. Odd enough, as he had had a perfect record. But then he missed fights against the remaining ink monsters, couldn't help the Toons when they needed leadership decisions and couldn't even provide advice to those who wanted opinions. He tried as hard as he could to help his fellow toons but he felt stranded on a lonely island, with a sea of tears surrounding him. The toons knew he was suffering loss for Ortensia and forgave him, but the problem was, he couldn't forgive himself.

Eventually, he started to believe that he wasn't any use for his homeland, and he was a monster and just junk. His luck was upside down, and permanently tied to him. The pain of his once-healed wounds of the mouse leaked out again, bitterness and resent returning to his senses. And the more he felt bitter, the more he hid away from the friends he had, worried he would hurt them with these. What if at a party, he spat out his hatred to the mouse? Or when he helped build a new machine with his many Gremlins, he started sobbing for Ortensia? Or what if some people came here, and tried to steal the only thing he had, his leadership, and he had no luck left? Once, he was strong and brave, yet also not afraid to show his feelings and love. Once, not long ago, he felt happy. Those days were gone.

So he disappeared, in fear he might hurt his people more than he believed they might have. He resorted to giving instructions from afar, in seclusion, in his throne room on Mickeyjunk Mountain, with nothing but the few books he had, his children and the photo of his love.

He was a shadow of the bunny he once was, practically at the sway of the Blot.

A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading this first chapter of my first story, it took a while to write this. I hope you'll love this as much as I do. Ignore the above if it doesn't concern you.