#As warden his time is even shorter than normal

[luosaugury]

I came up with a more detailed backstory for my Warden Rook, and surprisingly, his guilt complements Neve's fear quite well. It's unintentional, which makes me quite proud of myself lol

Details under the cut I guess

Rook had a loving family. His mother, his younger brother (Émile), and an old mabari dog that his mother told him was his father's.

Rook never knew his father, or at least doesn't remember him. He knows his father left them when he was about 3 years old, and his brother was about 1yo. His mother rarely spoke of his father, and as a child Rook noticed and didn't ask, despite not knowing why.

Émile was 8 when his magic manifested. Rook was 10. He cried and trying to fight the Templars to stop them from taking his brother away. Émile was always a gentle child, always following Rook around, a crybaby. Rook refused to believe that his brother could ever be a monster just because he happened to have magic. The Templars treated Rook like an upset child throwing a tantrum and tried to calm him by gently telling Room it was for Emile's own good, that they were also protecting Émile from threats Rook couldn't protect him from, like demon possession, or other people's hatred.

Rook (eventually) believed them. Or at least he tried to.

A year later their mabari dog died during the harshest days of winter, along with any link left to Rook's father.

Rook believed the templars. Some of them were kind. Others less so, but he knew if he worked hard and sent coin, his brother would have an easier life in the Circle. There was never enough for letters, but Rook took comfort in knowing (believing) he helped.

Rook always thought that one day he would earn enough to pay for his brother's release, just like how prisoners would be once they served their terms or paid enough.

Then, when Émile was 18yo, Rook received a letter from the Chantry notifying him of his brother's failing his Harrowing, and "regrettably met his untimely demise."

In his grief, Rook couldn't see that his mother was grieving too. Rook decided to empty his coffer, buy things for his mother, pay the templars to smuggle Emile's ashes out. Then he joined the Grey Warden.

At this decision, his mother stopped talking to him. Rook thought his mother didn't understand that he just wanted to do something good. Being a warden is a noble thing. Why won't she understand?

He spent a few years in the grey wardens, making friends, flirting around without any intention for settling down. He felt free, and with purposes. Maybe Émile would approve of him. Maybe he would even forgive him for failing to be there, to protect him.

He went on a mission for months, and came back to learn the news that his mother had died. The funeral had been weeks ago. She passed away in her sleep.

He returned to his childhood home after years of being away. After years of not talking to his mother. There had not been any clearing up. He found a stack of letters in a box addressed to him.

Except the contents had been water damaged. The letters were illegible. His mother's attempts at communicating with her only son left were for naught. He never learnt what his mother thought of him, of his decision, or if she ever forgave him or understood that he had simply run away.

He wanted to ask her if the reason she was so mad with his decision to join the wardens was because his father had been a warden too, and he'd left because he'd had to go to his Calling, leaving a scar on his mother's heart. He heard stories, rumours of another warden with the same surname as his, but there was never any concrete proof. He wanted to ask if she had been afraid of losing her only son left, but couldn't do anything to stop him.

Rook's guilt and fear, then, is failing to be there for his loved ones when they needed him the most. That he keeps losing people without any chance for last words.

So when he meets Neve, he wants to believe in his own promise too. That he'd always be there for her. This one he doesn't want to lose.

[genshin-side-piece]

Tell Me You Are Mine

Hopefully he'll leave me alone now.

Sequel to : Love Me Tender & Love Me True

Warnings: Yandere Content, Dark themes, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry),Not Fluff, Uncomfortable themes, not a portrayal of Stockholm Syndrome, but can be interpreted that way, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

“Good afternoon.” As if by instinct, your jaw tightened at the sound of his soft voice. A swift glance out of the window told you he was early. Way early. Normally, it was closer to dinner when Neuvillette made his presence felt.0 The golden light of the setting sun seemed to herald his return. The second it began to peak through the soft sheer curtains that hung on all the windows, you made every attempt to hide. Drawing room, breakfast room, the back corridor that led to the servants quarters. It didn’t matter. He always found you. Even after you slipped your little wardens or convinced them to give you privacy, he still found you within minutes of his arrival. It was almost like he had a sixth sense in that regard.

As of late, you had taken advantage of the mild weather, opting for one of the more out of the way spaces so that you might enjoy your novels in peace. You had read the one that was currently in your hand a hundred times before today. It was one of the few pieces of fiction you were permitted to read, therefore it brought you the greatest joy you could muster. The escapism was a much needed break from the monotony you faced on a day to day basis. Which was why his gentle voice breaking your train of thought at the best part was nothing short of annoying. Especially when his presence was neither expected or invited. “I see that with the change in season, you’ve adopted a new spot. This room does keep the afternoon light longer than the drawing room. With the days becoming shorter, I imagine it is exemplary for reading before dinner.” You tried not to visibly roll your eyes as you made every attempt to ignore him. The faster this was over, the faster you could enjoy your solitude before you were forced to perform the abhorrent ritual that was dinner. “I wonder if you are at a stopping point. I have something I wish to show you.” There was an unusual giddiness that his calm voice generally lacked. He was uncharacteristically excited about something. That generally meant one thing. “A present, of sorts.” A heavy sigh was your only reaction. He had already tried to shower you in presents as a lame attempt at an apology. Aside from the book in your hand, all the others had fallen flat. The only time he got to see them was when you felt he was in need of punishment. Where you forced him to see and be near the version of you that he so desperately wanted, the version that you would never let him have. “Please, I have been working on it for quite some time. Will you let me show you?” The sheer hope in his voice grated on your nerves. Every instinct in you said no. Mentally you wanted to crush that hope he had. If you did, then perhaps he might finally see there was nothing to gain in keeping you here beyond your mutual misery. Once he realized that, then he might grant you the one thing you so desperately wanted, which was to let you go. “Is it not something you can leave on the table for me?” You didn’t bother to take your eyes away from the page you had been reading. Instead, you made a half hearted gesture in the general direction of the rest of the room. “I am afraid not.” Gods above you hated he sounded pleased, but you supposed he got something he wanted from the brief interaction. You had avoided speaking to him for weeks now. “This gift has a bit more permanence to it.” You furrowed your brow in confusion. Permanence? Another sigh escaped you, this one smaller than the last. You couldn’t deny that after months of trying, he finally didn’t something that made you want to know more. 

With zero flourish you closed your book, giving him what he truly wanted, which was your full attention. The soft smile he offered you as a reward for your compliance was no less annoying than his voice. “I will need to escort you to it, but afterwards you are free to go there on your own.” He toyed with his fingers for a moment, a tick you had noticed whenever he was nervous. Your eyes narrowed at it, momentarily focusing on his hands, questioning the action. On closer inspection of Neuvillette you noticed he was as rigid as a board. His frame lacked the somewhat relaxed countenance his normal posture tended to have. From your vantage point, you could see that small beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow, while his eyes swirled with what you could only guess were the emotions he refused to acknowledge or show. Neuvillette was always so calm, so collected. He never exercised anything but absolute control over himself around you. The only time he had come close to losing that control was when someone had dared to threaten one of the melusines. The weather had seemed to match the fury that filled him as the storms lasted for days. 

Now was nothing like that time. His mood, his posture, even the slight shakiness in his speech was nothing short of bizarre. You blinked, a realization washing over you. God, it couldn’t be, could it? Was he nervous? Another look at him told you all you needed to know. His handsome face was strained, struggling to hold the disarming smile he was wearing. The sweat on his brow was growing by the second. He actually broke eye contact with you long enough, to allow his smile to fall into a slight frown. What made his present state so curious was that he never got nervous when giving you something. It was often left for you in your room or he would drop it on a table nearby and wait for you to open it. Why was this different? “Will you allow me to escort you?” The expectation in his voice grew. He sounded almost desperate for you to say yes, for you to take down the invisible barrier between you long enough for him to get close to you. Based on his proximity to you, he had already broken it, but given that he had you cornered there wasn’t much you could do other than say no. “Please?”

Again it was a chance to hurt him beyond all measure. To just absolutely crush him, possibly once and for all. The longing in his eyes alone would make it worth it, but for once, your better judgment granted him a reprieve. While Neuvillette was many things to you, the one thing he was not, was intentionally cruel. He had never been abusive, nor had he ever raised his hands to you to bring you harm. Even at your worst, when you could do nothing but scream at him, he just took it. He never interrupted, never raised an objection to a single thing you said. He just let you rage at him until the anger that had possessed you left your body, reducing you to a quivering, sobbing mess. Then he would still be there; a glass of cold water and handkerchief in hand, ready to comfort you should you wish him to.

His compassion for your situation, despite being the cause of it, was the only reason you bit your tongue now. Over the many months you had been with him, you had come to the realization that while you loathed his actions, you did not necessarily loathe him. At least not entirely. You were still angry. You still sought your petty revenge. You still denied him all that you could, but crushing his hope, crushing him felt needlessly cruel. His motives had come from a decent place, as had his actions. At the time he had believed something horrible had happened to you. With a serial killer lurking, you could make yourself understand it. In some way it was almost flattering. The Iudex of Fontaine cared enough for you that he came to personally rescue you from harm. What you resented was not what he had done before, it was what he did now. You despised being kept, but your abhor at your own situation was not a good enough reason to harm him like that. Deep down, you knew it would not bring you the outcome you desired, nor would it bring anyone any satisfaction. If anything, it may make things worse for both you and the nation as a whole. Living with a kind man was easy, you often shuddered to think what kind of man Neuvillette could be if he wished to see someone suffer. Given his place in the world, it wouldn’t be difficult at all if he wished that upon you. His little friends were all too happy to tell you about the caverns and caves and oubliettes that lurked in the darkness beneath the waves. It would be nothing for him to disconnect from your world completely and send you to live in eternal darkness for the rest of your days. Your entire body involuntarily grew cold at just the thought. 

It was easy to forget Neuvillette was dangerous. His calm nature and gentile manners were a clever mask for the power that laid just beneath the surface. You had heard the rumors, same as all the rest. It was all the melusines had talked about for days. They had fretted and fawned over the events that had taken place. Neuvillette had recently had to suppress an outburst in court. The offender had managed to land a blow, but it had only been by luck. Not even a blink of an eye later and the individual in question had been subdued thanks to Neuvillette’s strength. The entire interaction had lasted seconds. You knew based on your own experiences with him that he wouldn’t even need that for you. It was another sobering reminder that his treatment of you was a choice. He chose to love you, just as he chose to be gentle with you. But you knew, even gentle people had their limits. You briefly wondered where his actually were, if rejecting him now would push him past the point of no return. You silently worried if you could weather that kind of storm. 

Reconsidering your options, you took a second look at the current situation. Unlike past gifts that were left for you, this one was different. He had arrived unexpectedly, nervous and hopeful, with something he could not simply hand you. Neuvillette had to escort you. It possessed permanence. To say that you were cautiously intrigued more than you were worried was not an understatement. It was impossible for you to imagine what it could be. “Petit?” The intrusion of his voice, distracted you from your thoughts. You looked at him again, his nervous feelings were clear as day now. The smile had fallen in favor of pursed lips and concerned eyes. “Will you walk with me?”  “Will it take long?” You did your best to sound disinterested, quickly using your book as an excuse. “I was at the best part.” A breathy chuckle escaped Neuvillette’s lips, followed by what felt like a sigh of relief. “Not long at all petit chou. In fact, bring it with you. I believe it may come in handy.” That statement only served to encourage your curiosity further.

The walk was a quiet one. Neuvillette either wasn’t in the mood for small talk or thanks to the situation, he had been rendered silent thanks to his nerves. You found that fact irksome. The one time you wanted him to speak to you, to tell you what was going on, he wouldn’t. Neuvillette was stalwart in his silence. The only sound that passed between you was the sound of his robes moving in time with his body as he silently led you to wherever you were going. His home in comparison to yours was quite large, but in reality not so big that you wouldn’t be able to reach a set of locked double doors within a few minutes. You noted there wasn’t anything particularly special about them. The only thing unique to them was that they were on the north side of the house, a place you rarely ventured as Neuvillette’s office and chambers were located on this side. It made complete sense the object in question was on this side. If it possessed any sort of permanence, then it was logical that he would keep it close. 

There was no fanfare when he unlocked the doors before you. No music. No confetti. No shouts or utterances of the word surprise. Just an open door and second set of doors, that led to a walled garden. To what you gathered later was his extreme pleasure, your jaw hit the floor. 

It was a peace offering between you and him. A cage within a cage really. The stone walls were far too smooth and far too tall for you to scale, but that didn’t detract from the meaning behind his gift. Neuvillette was expanding your privileges, offering you a semblance of freedom in a world where you had none. Here, you would have the feeling of the sun and the wind and rain on your skin. You could hear the sounds of the court, albeit at a distance. You could even detect the faintest scent of the sea as it hung in the air. All the things you had lost the day he had taken you. All the things you had yearned for since being locked behind the heavy stone walls of his home. After the first few weeks of being here, you hadn’t asked for them to be returned to you. Neuvillette had made it clear that they wouldn’t be. His personal matra to you was that the outside world was dangerous. You were not safe. He had done his best to protect you from afar, but it had not been good enough. Your trip outside the city had triggered him to the point that he felt the only solution for his dilemma was to keep you in a place where you could be monitored full time. If you wanted sun or rain, then you could gaze at them through the filtered light of the windows. If you wished to smell the sea, then you would have to be near him to do so. As of that moment, you would never be in the outside world again. It had absolutely crushed you. “I know it is quite late in the year to gift this to you. I offer my apologies for that oversight. The meulsines and I were in agreement that it should be nothing short of perfect. Some of the flowers were also quite difficult to grow. It was insisted upon that as many of them as possible were to be in bloom when this was presented to you.” He hesitated. “I do hope you like it.” 

The trepidation in his voice pulled your attention back to him. There was a pang of guilt for how you had treated his gifts in the past. Your lack of appreciation where he was concerned had made the act offering anything to you, gift or otherwise, a challenging one. It was another sobering reminder that Neuvillette himself wasn’t a bad man. His intent towards you had not and was not malicious. Everything he had ever done for you had come from a place of admiration, of love. Even now, as he stared at you, almost bracing himself for the negative reaction you were sure to have, he still looked at you like the moon and the stars hung by your hands. For the first time since arriving, you felt cracks form in the ice around your heart. “It’s-” You paused, allowing yourself a moment to take the entire space in again. “It’s wonderful.” You bowed your head slightly, doing your best to hide the genuine happiness that was bubbling up from inside of you. It was wonderful. You would never deny that. Outside of letting you go, this was the best thing he could ever give you. “Thank you.” Your downcast eyes missed the look of utter relief that washed it’s way across his face. “I am glad then.” There was a breathy laugh that followed that. “Cosanzeana has been so worried over the flowers. She cultivated many of them, just for you. It will be a great comfort to her to know that you like them.” You nodded, bringing your eyes up to meet his once again. “This is not just for today. Going forward, it is reserved solely for your own use. No one will trouble you here unless it is for an emergency or we are preparing to eat.” You didn't know what to say to that. What could you say? Your own place? Your own private place? Better still, you could use it whenever you wished. You felt as if you had witnessed a miracle. While the garden certainly wasn’t the freedom you desired, it was a giant step towards achieving it. Allowing you this was a sign of trust. One that you were sure to take complete advantage of as time went on. “I only ask that you be mindful of the weather, especially when winter arrives. It would be most disagreeable if you caught a chill due to overexposure to the elements.” You nodded, silently agreeing with that sentiment. Becoming ill would be incredibly disagreeable considering he and the meulsines would be the ones to take care of you should you become that way.  He had already gotten close enough as it was. Giving him a legitimate reason to be so near you, to touch you, was something you couldn’t bear. “If you are content, then I shall take my leave until this evening.”

“Monsieur.” You thickly swallowed, watching him pause as you called after him. The look in his eyes made you falter slightly. They were brimming with adoration. Instinctively you knew he was pleased as punch that this had gone as well as it had. That he had done something to make you happy. Even if it was only for a few moments, he had managed to pull a genuine smile out of you. It had been the point of all of his gifts. He wanted to make you forget that for that moment he wasn’t your keeper. That you weren’t a captive. He wanted to paint the illusion for himself that you were both happy. Up until now, you had resisted. All the fine things he had presented you did little to achieve the lie he wanted. They did nothing to change the circumstances in which you lived. Clothes would never open the locks that kept you here. Jewelry could never help you get away from the walls that surrounded you. Only the book in your hand had given you even the slightest hint of escape. It was why it was your favorite and you imagined that now, like your book, this too would become a favorite. That should have been enough in your eyes. He gave you a garden, you would use it on the days that the weather would permit. That should be the end of it. Your conscience, though, disagreed. Maybe it was your own guilt for how you had acted, but in your mind a step deserved to be met with a step. The use of the space didn’t seem like a proper thank you. Even if it would bring you his unwanted attention, in this instance, you decided to make an exception and go one step further. “We have a while before dinner. Perhaps-” You gently sighed as he continued to stare at you with those eyes of his. Damn them for being so beautiful. Damn him for being as he was. Damn yourself for making you say what you were about to say. “The weather has been very nice as of late. It seems a shame to enjoy it alone. Would you care to sit with me?” His normally pale skin flushed. Neuvillette looked as if you could knock his lithe frame over with a feather.

“I-” He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks growing as he visibly fought his own surprise at the invitation. “I had thought of catching up on some work before dinner.” You raised your eyebrows almost stunned for a moment. He wasn’t going to refuse, was he? Surely he couldn’t. Not when you knew the invitation alone was something he yearned for. Briefly, you considered he would be well within his right. You had given him a rare chance to pay you back for your behavior for the last few months. To your surprisingly great relief though, he did not. “But I believe it can wait until after we eat.” The spirit of peace between you continued, with Neuvillette accepting your olive branch, just as graciously as you had accepted his. “I would be all too happy to join you mon petit.”

[autisticlalna]

skyblock kingdoms species headcanons v3

follow up to my previous posts on this (v1 / v2), here's the overview of my takes on the cubitos as of now!

under cut bc this is gonna be. long.

viking:

secret catboy. ears are hidden under hat.

tail is probably shorter than i draw it

does have some cat instincts he tries to cover. can purr

i wanna start drawing him with glasses i just need to figure out a good design for em

fix:

normal human

...to point of canceling out the weirdness of anyone around him

this applies to himself. god knows what he's like when he's not self-nullified

ruby:

mimic, copies vibe of whoever she spends a lot of time with

baseline form is... mostly human.

gemstone hair and he cracks and chips instead of bleeds

(basically like the gems from land of the lustrous)

allay wings were injured at start of sbk, didnt heal for a while

vintage:

dryad

looks like a faun with a tree branch unicorn horn

flowers are physically a part of her

rue:

clone of ruby's baseline form, so is human-passing with wings

not a mimic

avid:

started human and then he got Worse

the deeper he got into dark magic, the more it changed him.

white streak from his stint in incendium

monkeyvid is soulfire reshaped into a physical form. similar situation with ruby where he's organic until something breaks

avoid has a x-shaped scar where olm ripped out his soul

doovid:

human, then monkey, then human again

is a normal guy but, like, For Real. he's chill

fool:

was human once

soul spots are big cracks like broken pottery

bleeds liquid gold

librarian still has the cracks but is iridescent

milkman:

basically a cartoon character

shapeshifter For The Bit

can completely copy people but keeps the mustache on purpose bc, like, why wouldnt he. thats his brand

cannot be killed in a way that matters

cloneman:

also a slapstick cartoon character but more cringefail

can, unfortunately, be killed in a way that matters

mig:

lumian

(alien with pointy ears, glowing freckles, tail)

elytra is ender dragon wings

kale:

also an alien

something adjacent to a piglin

marm:

im gonna be real my thoughts on marm are constantly changing. for the love of god please help me

current take is some kind of weird swamp gargoyle thing

void exposure made her more monstrous over time but has since evened out

tea:

very fluffy anthro cat

i dont know how to explain it. tea just has the vibes

trog:

was human once. isnt anymore.

is either "was human and was turned into an eldritch horror", "is an eldritch horror that took the original trog's place", or somewhere inbetween

does not feel like trying to make the distinction anymore

sometimes explodes into triangles when stressed/startled

the other sbkers wave it off. trog has always been like this, its fine

kitt:

red panda hybrid

is able to ignite at-will

i still wanna keep her partially sculked i think. flammable red panda warden human mix

tube:

human.

acorn:

raccoon mask is functionally her face

start of season: fairly ordinary. maybe just a tanuki

got hit hard with spruce adaption after the void jump, is now an abstract combo of winter-associated animals

anathra:

im still attached to anathrabot but Canon Hologram Anathra has overtaken it

minor visual glitches now and then

sometimes has trouble with briefly clipping through things or otherwise being solid

freezing cold to the touch

elffe:

herobrine :D

looks fairly human but has strong cryptid energy. also the stereotypical glowing eyes when he wants to scare people

anathra runs cold, elffe runs hot. space heater of a man.

crimson vines growing on him. hes not very bothered by it.

artemis:

symbiotic relationship with the mushrooms (red, brown, crimson, warped) growing on her

Weird Vibes. something is just off with nethershroom

neon:

retro cyborg. very funky.

was very run-down when found, has since fixed himself up

leon:

penguin :3

not anthropomorphic but scaled up to a "human but short" size

got scrungled SO HARD by the ender corruption. still some remnants of it even after olm transferred it

probably would have even more thoughts if i actually. drew most of these guys. i do wanna do a lineup eventually but thats 23 (24 if you count avoid) people. hrk

[adoriels-tears-if]

The veilguard so far, is not bad.

I have some minor gripes (I do not like what they’ve done with the dark spawn, and at least in the beginning some of the acting is a bit stiff, but that’s mostly aesthetic). I’m a big fan of the character creator, though it’s not quite what I was expecting. And some of the actions and unlocking of pathways in certain maps is kind of giving the same vibe as that Spyro and Cinder game that was out some time around 2010?

My biggest issue at the moment is the… well. Sometimes it doesn’t seem exactly true to lore of the past games? I think it might be an effect of introducing certain things that weren’t introduced in game but have been in other media. It feels like everyone and their grandma know about Solas and his actual identity? I was expecting some throw away comments from the grey warden background about dark spawn but so far the initial encounter of blight and dark spawn hasn’t given anything more than my lord of fortune run. But then again, it has been like a hot minute for those in game, so maybe it makes sense. I will say, so far I feel this is the most successful attempt at making a protagonist who actually feels and acts more well suited to being a second in command rather than the leader. Even stoic option Rooks can and do express their concern for how unready they feel.

And already the choices and the approvals are feeling like they matter. You get to see sometimes immediate consequences for them, even as impermanent as they are, which I’m not quite used to. Dragon age in the past usually put a bit of a buffer between choice and consequence.

Feeling a bit betrayed that the Inquisitor is the only previous protagonist we can choose lore for, but kind of heard about that ahead of time.

But I will say I feel like the combat is vastly improved, for multiple reasons (but especially if you weren’t a fan of the more hybrid combat from the last games). You have long range and short/shorter range attacks for every class, and all classes can engage in blade combat. It’s fluid and it’s rather challenging (pleasantly so, I’m playing on nightmare so I have no idea what regular scaling looks like). But we have loads more options and a dodge mechanic that actually works as a normal button rather than some weird power tile (can you tell I hate strategic/planning combat?).

Another cool thing is the game’s scaling actually works (I was so tired of dwarves looking huge next to my qunari, they are now waist height as the Maker intended). And a lot of the moving physics (clothes, hair) are pretty good for the most part.

It’s got a weirdly linear feeling to it so far, I’d say even more so than DA2. More cinematic scenes than I’m used to as well, or at least, maybe it just feels like that because I’m not stuck in the hinterlands for 100 gameplay hours.

I feel like I’m still somewhat in a tutorial phase (despite having recruited two characters already) so it could be that the freedom to move and explore will more closely match DA2, as well as some of the stiffness and the overstating of the obvious will drop off after this more introductory time in the beginning.

I will say, I feel like Varric as a narrator is being underutilized, but he is majestic just as always, so at least there’s that.

I'm a millennial, weak, poor but happy!

[eunchancorner]

Sweet Moments Turned Sour

LAWD I haven't posted anything in a hot minute

I have been working on this fic for a long time now. This is not at ALL where I thought it was gonna go but yk how plots have a habit of doing whatever they want

Anyway have old men

-

Poke.

Dmitri’s arms snapped down from reaching up into the pantry in his bunker, whipping around to face Grigori, who stood behind him, hands behind his back, looking down at the warden with a disinterested expression.

“Do not,” the shorter warned.

“Do not what?” he asked innocently.

Dmitri huffed and turned back to the cabinet, sifting through the various snacks on the shelves he could just barely reach.

Another poke, making him jump and turn again, once again to face his completely deadpan lover.

“Is something wrong? Are snacks expired?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I know what you are doing…” the warden growled.

“Standing by, in case you need help?”

With an annoyed grumble, Dmitri continued his search, struggling to reach the certain box of cookies he’d been searching for.

Almost… damn this tiny torso…

Suddenly feeling hands on his sides, his arms snapped back down once more, and he once again whipped around to face his assistant.

“What are you doing?!” he demanded, glaring up at the taller, who still acted innocent.

“Helping you? I am going to lift you up. You can reach cookies then,” he offered with that same expression. For a moment Dmitri was tempted to believe he was telling the truth.

“Why don’t you grab them yourself, then?” he countered.

“I thought you wanted satisfaction of reaching snack from higher shelf,” he stated simply with a small shrug.

“Making you do it is just as satisfying!” the warden lied.

“No, is not.”

Dammit.

“Damn you… Fine. But only to reach the cookies. Nothing else. Right?”

“Right,” the taller agreed with a short nod.

Reluctantly, Dmitri allowed Grigori to just barely lift him up, trying desperately to ignore the way his hands sent tingly sparks shooting through his sides, even as it made him struggle to lift his arm all the way. Keeping his gaze fixed on the cookies hopefully hid the wobbly smile trying to take over his face.

As fast as he could, he snatched the cookies, before repeating “Put me down” several times in quick succession and sighing in relief as, upon his return to the ground, the hands on his sides retreated.

“Thank you, Grigori. Your assistance has proven useful once again,” the warden praised his assistant, turning to face him. 

“You are planning on sharing, yes?”

“What?”

“I helped you get cookies. I deserve a share,” the taller reasoned.

“No, these are mine. You are tall enough to get your own,” the warden asserted as he attempted to move past him, only to be stopped by Grigori’s arm.

“Grigori, move…”

“No.”

“Wh-... What do you mean ‘no?’”

“I want cookies. Give me my share, I will move.”

“Grigori…” the warden sighed, “I am not going to fight you over cookies. We are not children. That is ridiculous. Get your own box.”

“I want to share.”

“Why? Why do you so desperately want to share from one box?”

“I like sharing with you. Should be obvious. Is that not what lovers do?”

“Not tonight. Tonight, I will have my own cookies. Now move, I would like to go eat.”

“I am not moving until I am at least promised share.”

“Grigori, please, you are acting like a child…”

“And you are acting like we are not in privacy of bunker. I am not above using other tactics when we are alone, Dmitri~”

Shit.

He knew the smirk he was expecting. That wasn’t it. The look that overtook Grigori’s face was more playful than suggestive. He wasn’t planning to use something dirty; he was planning to use something silly.

And something silly is normally much more humiliating.

“Grigori… No… This- this argument is childish, wh-whatever you’re planning is childish!” Dmitri pressed, clutching the box close to his chest like it would offer any kind of protection.

“You do not know what I am planning. That is fun part~”

“I do not need to! I know that look!”

“And I know that if you really did not want this, I would be on ground by now.”

Shit.

“I-... I am being nice. I am not kicking your ass, and in return, you will not try to take my snacks. That is a fair trade, is it not?”

“I have better trade. Share, or laugh~”

Exactly what Dmitri was scared of. He knew Grigori was planning something of that nature, but he didn’t know exactly what. But that one word was all he needed to know.

“Fuck. Off.”

“Alright, you have made choice, don’t say you were not warned.”

Without another word, Dmitri suddenly found himself being lifted and held up by one of Grigori’s arms, back against his much taller assistant, who quickly and almost effortlessly snatched the cookies out of his grip with his free hand. It happened so fast that it took him a second to realize he wasn’t actually holding onto his snack anymore.

“... Ah. Well. How fucking dare you,” he almost deadpanned, craning his neck to look up at Grigori, who was idly examining the cookie box.

“‘Chocolate chunk’? What is difference between chip and chunk?” he mused, “Is one bigger than other? Sweeter? Meltier? Heh, now that would be good comparison, like me and you. You are chip, I am chunk.”

“Stop talking.”

“Though, I suppose you are meltier. It is ironic; you are so small and strong on outside… and most of inside. But deep, deep inside, you like being loved. Held, and cherished. Not like leader, but like lover.”

“Shut up.”

“But it is cute! To everyone else, you are like snow leopard; Terrifying, deadly, and strong, but you still like being treated like little k-”

“GRIGORI I WILL KICK YOU IN THE DICK!”

The assistant was silent for a moment, which almost terrified Dmitri, until he finally spoke again.

“I… do not trust you to not do that, so I will shut up. But, a voice will fill this bunker. If is not mine, it shall be yours!”

Suddenly, the large hand that held him up started squeezing his side, causing him to laugh before he was ready. He curled up, trying to loosen the taller’s grip on his midsection, slapping his arm in vain.

“GRIHIHIGOHORIHIHIHI! NOHOHOHO! PUHUT MEHEHE DOHOHOWN!” he demanded, only met with quiet humming as his assistant sat on their shared bed, pulling Dmitri into his lap. Given the chance, the warden pushed against Grigori’s chest, another fruitless attempt at escape.

It would have been better if the taller had just said something, anything, even a tease would do, but there was nothing. Grigori was silent, and even though Dmitri wanted this at first, now it was just driving him nuts, forcing him to only be able to hear his own laughter, and focus on the electrifying tingles on his side.

“SAHAY SOHOHOMETHIHIHING DAHAHAMMIHIHIT!!” he finally ordered, tugging at Grigori’s hand.

“You promise you will not kick me in the dick? No matter what I say?” the assistant asked, and despite knowing exactly what he meant, Dmitri nodded. Any amount of teasing was better than having to focus on the tickles alone.

“Then I would like to say how interesting you are. You are not only super ticklish on sides, but on belly, too,” he noted, his hand moving to the warden’s belly, almost completely enveloping it as he gently squished it, earning an embarrassing snort from the shorter.

“NOHOHO! GRIHIHIGOHORIHIHI!!”

“And your ribs, too!But you are lucky, I will be nice and not tickle there. Is wonder no one else knows, maybe is because you always wear very thick jacket. Actually…” Grigori looked at their jackets hanging up, though Dmitri couldn’t tell why. What was so interesting about them?

“Boss, is ticklishness why your jacket does not have fur, like others?”

Ah, shit.

“SHUHUT UHUHUP!!” he protested, trying not to give a clear answer at the very least. He really didn’t want Grigori finding out about that, especially since he knew that meant he’d test it.

“Oh my god, that is reason isn’t it? Is it your neck or under chin? Or both?” the assistant asked, pausing his hand on Dmitri’s belly and getting a better hold on him. The instant Dmitri felt his fingers making contact with the underside of his chin, he grabbed his hand and pushed it away with every bit of force he could muster.

“NO!” the warden shouted, his smile gone as fast as he’d shoved away his assistant’s hand. He felt all the force behind Grigori’s own grip disappear, realizing he’d done something wrong.

“Dmitri…? Are you okay?” the taller asked worriedly. For a moment, Dmitri sat in silence. He wasn’t sure if he should mention it, but eventually, hatred for his own memories won out as he easily slipped from Grigori’s loosened grip. He grabbed himself a box of peanut butter cookies and sat at his desk, mumbling a bitter “I don’t want to talk about it…”

“Are you sure? You know is unhealthy to keep inside…” Grigori advised him, earning an annoyed huff.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it. I mean that. Drop the subject,” Dmitri replied simply, working on some paperwork he knew damn well didn’t need to be done for another week. He heard Grigori standing beside him before the box of cookies they’d been ‘fighting’ over was placed on his desk. The warden turned to watch as his assistant dressed himself to head outside, grabbing a box of cigarettes.

“Would you like to go smoke?” he offered as soon as he realized he was being watched, and for a moment, Dmitri considered it. After a moment of thought, though, he shook his head.

“No, I need to work…” he decided, turning back to the papers and trying to ignore Grigori’s disappointed sigh.

“Right…” his assistant mumbled before walking out, leaving the warden alone in his room with his thoughts.

His thoughts, and his regret.

[dragonform]

Ok, as promised, this is the first... part? chapter? whatever - of my rewrite of Day of the Departed. I'm sure there've been a million rewrites and fanfics of this one special - I haven't actually checked on AO3 - but who's to say I can't do my own take?

It starts off pretty slow, but this is what I'm trying to do with this rewrite:

Make it darker & more psychological/angsty - focus on Cole's existential terror at being forgotten

Still stick to the original script wherever it feels natural

Add in new scenes to flesh out some parts more

Change up the ending (how? not telling just yet)

So here we go with the first part, and if I get into the mood well enough we might even get a second!

The stillness of the night was first shaken by a rabbit tearing through the grass, then shattered as a small herd of deer crashed through the undergrowth. These were not nocturnal creatures, nor was it wise for those who were at the bottom of the food chain to be anything other than silent. Yet here they were, wide awake, whining, and very nervous, their gazes darting about fearfully.

Elsewhere in the forest, a lone wolf stopped to sniff the air, but he was not hunting. He came to a clearing and shrank back, his ears flattened against his head, his teeth bared in a snarl at an invisible enemy. He lifted his head to the moon, and his growling intensified.

The moon shone down in its serene fullness, isolated from the unease below. A wisp of green drifted across its pale face and dissipated. The white radiance of the moon seemed to intensify for an instant, and then its edges began to take on a green tinge.

Below, the wolf howled, then turned tail and fled in terror back into the safety of the darkness, away from the increasingly unnatural glow of the moon.

*****

The alert came as the Ninja were about to head out. The Mechanic had attempted a breakout at Kryptarium Prison, and Warden Noble had sent the distress call.

Jay groaned. “Not now, not today! Who knows how long this’ll take?”

“I bet the Mechanic did this on purpose,” added Cole grumpily. The Earth Ninja was normally not one to anger quickly, but his fuse had gotten shorter ever since he was turned into a ghost. “Picking a holiday of all days for his shenanigans.” He punched his translucent fists together in frustration. “I’ve got half a mind to just ignore him. We have other things that need our attention.”

But Kai was already talking over him. “Lloyd, it’s a holiday. We have things we wanna do. Do we all really have to go? Can’t just one or two of us maybe, oh I don’t know, just go put the Mechanic back in his cell while the others get on with what we were doing?”

“But Kai, our task will require minimal manpower to complete. I estimate that we will only need -” Zane began, before Kai shushed him.

“We don’t know how bad things are over at Kryptarium, so we’d better have all hands on deck. Our business will have to wait,” Lloyd decided. He turned to Master Wu. “I promise we’ll be back in time.”

Master Wu nodded. “Be careful.”

The six Ninja raced out of the monastery, leaving Wu to gaze after them. He had never admitted it, and probably never would, but every single time they left on a mission, he worried that it was the last time he would ever see them. All it would take was one wrong move - one small mistake. He was painfully aware that as the one who had gathered them and trained them, he was the reason why their lives were constantly on the line, and the responsibility weighed heavily on his heart. But, he told himself, they had learned well. Each of them, alone, was perfectly capable of holding their own; as a team, they were by all measures a force to be reckoned with. As long as they stayed together, they would be all right.

He raised his face to the midday sun, squinting against the harsh glare. Soon, it would begin its descent, but for now, it blazed high above Ninjago, its reign unchallenged by cloud nor shadow. The air in the monastery hung almost unnaturally still. Wu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

For now, there was nothing that could be done but to wait.

*****

Jay whooped as his jet did a barrel roll above the other ninjas’ vehicles racing over the Sea of Sand. “Look out, kids!” his voice crackled over the communication link. “Jay is here to save the day!”

“Yeah, and what are we, chopped liver?” Kai groused.

“Jay’s just excited he managed to get the Supersonic Raider Jet,” Nya said, amusement in her voice.

“Yeah, I still don’t understand how you got that, Jay,” Lloyd said in mock jealousy.

“Uh, because I called dibs,” Jay sniffed. “Guy who calls dibs first gets it, right, Cole? …”

No response. “Cole?”

Cole’s Rock Roader was trailing slightly behind the others, and he had been unusually quiet as he focused on maintaining a solid grip on the steering. But now, his hands were beginning to slip through the controls.

“No. No,” he breathed shakily. “Come back. Come… No.” He struggled to maintain his grip, his hands clutching thin air as he fought back rising terror. His vehicle began to veer off course.

“Cole! He’s drifting off again!” Nya shouted.

“I’ll get him,” Jay responded as he turned his jet around. At that moment, the Rock Roader mounted a sand dune and launched itself into the air, narrowly missing Jay.

“Cole! Look out!!” Jay yelled.

Cole grunted as his vehicle landed. His body solidified momentarily, and he slammed on the brakes. The Rock Roader fishtailed to a stop.

“S-sorry, Jay,” Cole’s voice sounded shakily over the communicator. “I -”

“Whew, buddy, I know you're a ghost, but I'm still in the living world, and I'd kinda like to keep it that way,” Jay quipped. He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but he still regretted his words the moment they left his lips. That had gotta hurt. Something was off with his best friend, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Heads up,” Lloyd said then. “There’s something out there.”

A blurred form was speeding on the horizon - something that looked like an oddly-shaped car.

“It’s the Mechanic,” Zane reported, his eyes digitally magnifying his view. “And he’s in some sort of getaway vehicle heading northeast. He’s going fast.”

“Where did he get that in prison?” Kai exclaimed.

“That’s not important,” Lloyd said impatiently. “Right now, we need to stop him. Jay, we’ll need the boost from your jet. Kai, Nya, with me.”

“I’ll keep him in our sights,” Zane said, already pulling ahead.

“Right! Cole…?”

“I… I think I’ll sit this one out,” came Cole’s subdued response.

“Roger that,” Lloyd said. “Ninja, fire all engines.”

The combined power of their engines gave them a speed boost that none of their vehicles could have achieved alone, and they rapidly caught up to the fleeing Mechanic. It was a short fight; the Mechanic was alone, and his getaway vehicle turned out to be a truck slapped together from mismatched parts and modified for speed. He was pushing it to its limit, so that by the time they reached him it was already beginning to sputter. Without his usual mechanical backup, the professional criminal was outnumbered by the Ninja and quickly overpowered.

“Not one of your best plans, Mechanic,” Kai noted as they waited to hand him over to the authorities. “What possessed you to try breaking out of prison without getting some backup first?”

“Har de har har,” the Mechanic scowled. “It’s the Day of the Departed. I figured everyone would be distracted by the festivities. Guess you ninja just have no respect for the departed.”

“It’s because of you that we were pulled away from our preparations,” Nya shot back, annoyed. “How’d you even break out, anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” sneered the Mechanic.

“Save it, Nya,” Lloyd said. “Here comes Warden Noble.”

The warden ambled over as they loaded the recaptured criminal into the back of a police vehicle. “Thank you for coming over on such short notice,” he said. “We’re short-staffed today because of the holiday, so we needed to call for backup. You could say we’re working with a… skeleton crew.” He guffawed at his own joke. The ninja chuckled politely.

“I hope things go smoothly for the rest of the day,” Lloyd said. “And that you and your team get some time to celebrate the holiday yourselves.”

Noble’s face sobered. “And you as well, young ninja. It’s an important tradition to honor those who have left us.”

“Don’t forget the candy!” Jay interjected, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “Best part of the holiday!”

“Yes, well, we need to go, Warden. Thank you.” Lloyd bowed, and the Ninja turned to leave.

With the waving warden in their rearview mirrors, Nya let out a sigh of frustration. “That took a whole chunk of our afternoon. We’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Lloyd answered with a sly smirk. “Ninja, fire all engines! … Again.”

Their vehicles shot forward into the desert, leaving a cloud of dust to settle gently behind them. It all but obscured the black Rock Roader, slowly trailing behind the others, as if its driver didn’t trust himself not to lose control of the car - and his own form - again.

[mynamesaplant]

It Changes, like Water (CH. 5)

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Summary: Akari has just met Gaeric for the first time and is still a little rattled by the experience. Ingo tries to reassure her by telling her a story.

Content Warning: Blood, bodily injury, and wild animal attack

Notes: I've made this in honor of Monsoon-of-Art and their PLA mer au (and just a touch from a different au where Gaeric acts as Irida's guardian). Many of the scenes in this fic are directly inspired by their work, there mer stuff more specifically. I've been a big fan of them since I started playing PLA and I've only grown to love all their characterizations of some of my favorite characters in all of Pokemon.

This is a shorter chapter, as will the next one, because they're more like wrap-ups. The reason I didn't just merge them is because we'll be switching back to Ingo and Akari.

Just a little fun fact, I did have a brief description about Calaba's flute. She was comparing hers to Gaeric's for authenticity. Hers was meant to have striations which an onlooker could not tell if it was the cut of the wood or something else. It was meant to mimic the layers of earth that I thought could help symbolize ground, but normal came in the form of it just look like a regular flute that was roughly carved from young piece of wood (less tree rings)… Now I'm just rambling.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! Don't like to read on Tumblr? Read it here on AO3.

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“That’s Lord Avalugg’s flute alright.”

Calaba said, her tail flicking in irritation. Of course, she wouldn’t second guess a noble, but Gaeric? No. No, she shouldn’t be too hasty. The nobles didn’t pick just anyone and Avalugg must has seen… Something in the boy. Calaba didn’t know what. She handed back – she had to keep her face neutral even as she thought it – Gaeric’s flute and informed him that his duties were to begin immediately. She would be training him. As the most recently assigned warden, it was her duty to train him, as was tradition.

Gaeric nodded mutely, still feeling blood trickling from his split lip even – a gift from Palina. It wasn’t undeserved, but it was still stinging because he couldn’t stop running his tongue over it, getting a reminder of his stupidity with each bitter taste of iron.

He was half listening to Calaba lecture him, still numb to the realization that he was to become a warden. A warden! Lord Avalugg had seen some potential in him! The thought made his heart race after nearly two years of feeling so much like an afterthought… a waste of space to the clan, even. He had a chance to do exactly as he promised to Irida – he had a chance to grow and improve himself. He had an opportunity to live up to his parents’ legacy and perhaps even start to forge his own.

“Gaeric, are you even listening to me?”

He came back to himself and saw Calaba’s eye twitching almost as much as her paddle-like tail. The woman was notoriously impatient when it came to irresponsible clan members. Gaeric stammered out that he was, and he noticed Calaba narrow her eyes at him, like she didn’t approve of him. A retort was sitting patiently in the back of his mouth for just such an expression, but just as he opened his mouth to retort hotly, he paused. What would it get him to be on Calaba’s bad side? He wanted to start improving himself - snide little remarks were not improvements.

“This is a very important position, Gaeric. I hope you can appreciate gravity of Lord Avalugg’s choice.”

“I do, Mistress Calaba! I… I’m sure I’ll learn quite a bit from what you have to teach me. You have my respects.”

Gaeric stooped into a bow for the smaller mer, hoping that Calaba would at least see the effort he was putting forth in this moment to act more maturely than perhaps anyone had seen him be in years. He didn’t get to see the minute change in her expression when he did this, but a moment ticked by, and she nodded. There was potential. It was a little scuffed and dirty, but she knew Gaeric was entirely serious. She made a noise and was on her way across the cavern.

Palina had unilaterally decided to take Irida home with her. They gathered her few possessions and left, Palina growling as Gaeric watched over the proceedings in bloodied silence. He couldn’t object. Not after such a treacherous mistake and not after Irida refused to acknowledge him the entire way back to the settlement with Lord Avalugg escorting them.

It would be for the best. Irida would soon be old enough to decide on who she did and did not want to associate with. He had promised to be a part of her life (now with little choice in the matter with his appointment of warden and her destiny as clan leader) and he had faith that, in time, Irida would forgive him, or at least understand why he made the choices he did.

He would need to be better for her in future and he aimed to be that way by training as a warden. He would harness the potential that Lord Avalugg saw in him by tempering body, mind, and spirit, to be the best incarnation of himself he can be. He owed it to Irida, his clan, his noble, his legacy, but most of all, Gaeric owed it to himself.

<<Last Chapter || First || Next Chapter>>

[cursedcola]

Imagine: Their S/O has dad humor

{ How would the dorm heads react to their s/o spewing out dad jokes?} 

Please enjoy these mini-ficlettes as I get myself into the swing of writing for twst. I hope I did the characters justice! 

Some are shorter than others. I am sorry about that! 

Riddle Rosehearts 

Riddle invited you for post-dinner chess and tea. While the rules dictate that lemon tea with two cubes of sugar is what should be served, just this once he’ll allow the rules to be bended. He couldn’t say no, considering your company was rare and with all the other dormitories inviting you over as well. Riddle was flattered that he was your first choice and did not want to reward that with disgusting tea. He much preferred honey anyways. 

“Checkmate. You have improved (Y/N), lasting four turns longer than our match last week,” He quipped, sipping his chosen tea. Ah yes. Victory, good company, a warm drink, and no disturbances in sight. 

What a perfect evening.

“They could overturn you very quickly house-warden, I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself!” 

Well, it was nice while it lasted. Riddle peered in your direction, eyeing Cater who was leaning over your chair and looking at the board. A bit too close for Riddle’s liking, but he was tolerant. 

For now at least. 

“Really? Hey Cater, gimmie a hand here. I never win these days,” 

“You say as if you have ever won before,” 

“Oh shut it. Help or quit interrupting my date,” 

Riddle flushed red. At first from how Cater continued to lean in, likely on purpose while trying to anger him. Then in bashfulness at your statement. 

“How about I give you a riddle, and if you solve it the you can stay. If not then you need to leave my date in peace,” they said, a serene smile betraying eyes full of amusement. Cater perked up at this, but Riddle knew better. 

“Oh, really now? What is it?” Cater said, eyeing the chessboard. Riddle groaned, putting his head in his hands. He did not fail to notice you stand or feel your hands reach for his shoulders.

“This Riddle! Make him want you here and you can stay, okay?” 

Ugh.

“I do not want you here! Leave. or it’s off with your head”

Cater’s cackling could be heard all the way down the hall. Why did you have to be this way? Why couldn’t he have fallen for someone normal?

Leona Kingscholar

If there was one thing Leona did not understand, it was your obsession with his hair. Whenever he napped in the gardens you would play with it. By the time he’d awaken there would be twists, braids, and far too many knots for his liking. It was troublesome, but you still did it despite his constant complaining. 

On one note, it did help him sleep better. He would never admit it but open affection helped keep him calm. Though if any of his dorm-mates saw him with bows in his hair? Well, they would have to become sand. No exceptions. 

One time he needed Ruggie’s help undoing some of the knots. He was sworn to secrecy immediately afterwards. One slip and it’s time to pick out an urn. 

Your habit is what he remembers now, needing some way to comfort you yet not knowing what to do. So with a frustrated sigh, he begins to pat your head. He won’t comb it like you do to him, but simple pats are enough. 

When your shoulders lose their tension, he makes an offhanded comment. He can understand why you like doing this now. 

“You have nice hair. Not as nice as mine, but still,” he says, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. It earns a small chuckle and you reach to hold his hand. 

“Thanks, I grew it myself,” you say, despite looking worse for wear.

Yeah. You’ll be alright.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul really does not like when things feel out of his control. That, and how you scarcely visit Monstro-Lounge because of your other duties. He’s well accustomed to the busy life, but seeing you only once a week when it’s just a mirror-hop away is not Azul approved. 

So imagine his surprise when you show up after closing. Drenched in water, as if you just took a dive into the ocean. 

Not that he’s one to talk, but seriously. You’re getting everything wet and the staff has gone home for the day. Luckily the two eels were there to let you in, otherwise Azul would have never noticed. You know how he gets when there is work to be done and contracts to be drafted. 

He leads you to his office once you’re dry, and he’s noticed some abnormalities in your behavior. It isn’t just him since Jade and Floyd take to lurking outside his office door. You also continuously dodge his questions. Why you are soaked, why you are out of Ramshackle so late, where you have been all day...very suspicious. 

He doesn’t like playing this game with you, but sometimes there are necessary evils. It’s not his fault that you let something slip, but it is his fault that you’re now reliving the day’s events with a pained expression. 

He hates to see you cry. More than anything.

He didn’t realize people would be foolish enough to bully you. Especially with him at your side. He couldn’t hide his glare after coaxing a description from you, motioning for the eels outside to make haste.

However, he did not miss the way your face creased in worry. Not for yourself, but for him and the fools you had now doomed. 

“Azu...how can I make an octopus like you laugh?” His face softened substantially, letting go of his steady frown. 

“There is no need for that right now...” 

“Don’t you know though?” 

“I suppose with a humorous joke? One that is not happening right now,” 

“Oh....I could have sworn it was with TEN-TICKLES,”

Before he could process the horrible pun, they had already moved to pepper his face with light kisses. He was mildly annoyed at their poor attempt at humor, but his heart swelled at the intention. 

“You truly are horrible,” 

“Awe! I think you’re FIN-tastic too, Azu” 

Kalim Al-Asim 

It wasn’t often that you had the opportunity to cook at NRC. With the kitchen in Ramshackle finally repaired, you couldn’t wait to make all the delicious dishes from your home and share them with all your friends. Though, there was Kalim who won’t eat food made by anyone other than Jamil. Despite your relationship, you respect this. Not once have you ever asked him to eat something you’ve prepared or picked. While these dishes are special, perhaps Jamil will try to learn them so Kalim can share your culture too? 

Or better yet, why not ask him to help you cook? Surely he’d like to try making some dishes, and maybe give them to Jamil as thanks for all he does?

“Really?! We’re making food from your home? Count me in!” Is what he says, just before realizing just how much work goes into preparing food from scratch. 

“You don’t have to push yourself Kamil, making dough isn’t easy and it would be lucky to get it perfect on your first try” 

“but-”

“Just have fun, okay?” 

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while nodding. Though the moment you turn away, he somehow drops half the carton of eggs on the floor. 

Well, shit. Normally that would be frustrating but the last thing you want is to make Kalim feel upset.

So, you take an egg.

And you throw it on the ground. 

“EGG-celent work, Kalim! Let’s go buy some more and keep going” 

At your horrible pun, he can’t help from smile. Hand in hand you both head over to the shops for more groceries.

“(Y/N)...thank you for pudding up with me” 

Vil Schoenheit 

It was rare for NRC to host special events such as dances or dinners. Crowley much preferred to keep the campus schedule to a minimum, likely because planning parties was too much work. However, he is indeed a “charitable one”, as he loves to repeat. Twice an academic year NRC will host a festival where the families and friends of students will be welcome to enjoy festivities. There’s plays, tours of the dorm rooms, food, and even races on broomsticks! 

All in fun, but Vil mostly looked forward to the post-dinner ball. Where students could dress however they liked so long as it was formal. Ah yes, his potato was about to become decadent French fries for the night. 

With his help of course. Ramshackle Dorm could do with an invasion, after all his beloved potato needs help looking their best! 

“You...you cannot be serious,” he says, arriving to see that you are in pajamas and utterly disinterested with attending the ball. Meanwhile he went through the trouble of making Epel bring all his makeup supplies, and you’re rejecting him?

“Uhm..yeah? I thought I told you-” 

“No! You are coming. End of discussion, now move inside before I regret coming to this so-called dorm” 

Inside he went, pushing past you and moving to set up his supplies. He can work a miracle in an hour, and your lack of a fight makes things easier. When you sit on the couch nearby, he gets to work. 

Not too far along and he’s worked his magic. Face painted, hair decent, and now all that’s left is to find you suitable clothes. 

He was making good time, until some troublesome ghosts decided to steal his makeup kit. Two broken eyelash curlers, and he was ready to overblot all over again. 

“Vil, it looks like they have a favorite. You should do ghost make-overs too,” you laugh, and his irritation deflates. Only a bit though. 

“Could you PLEASE control your dorm-mates?! This is horrible example you are setting as perfect,” 

He reached to grab the nearest floating lipstick. 

“Oh c’mon. They’re ghosts! You should have expected them to want some mas-SCARE-a!”

.....

.......he is so done. 

Idia Shroud 

“You know Idia, we could do with some more gaming buddies tonight”

He did not like where this was going. Game nights were for you and him alone. He may have lied saying that he lent his spare controllers to Ortho, but you didn’t know that. No one else would want to play so late anyways, and his room is off limits. 

“Uh..no?” He says, turning in his chair to look at you reading a textbook on his bed. 

“And why not?” 

“Because I only have two controllers today. I told you this,” he huffs, thinking that ended the conversation. He did not want to share your attention when he’s had to all day. After a moment he adds on that no student outside his dorm and the boardgame club likes to play. They were all busy too.

Another silence lingers, until you break it with restricted snickers. Great. Now you’re laughing at him. He felt his hair flare a bit and his typing speed increase. Just great, he probably came off to strong or-

“Really? I asked Rook if he played earlier and I got an interesting answer,” 

He turns slightly, still flustered. Did you want to play with him more than-

“He said, and I quote, Wii”

You bust out laughing and...he doesn’t get it. Apparently his lack of response makes it funnier because you grow louder.

“So...he said yes? That’s not very funny,”  he says, quirking an eyebrow. He’s starting to get uncomfortable with how you’re gasping for breath and nearly dying in his room. Should he get Ortho to check your vitals? 

“Not OUI, but WII,”

Oh. 

Wow, that’s really bad. Extremely cringey. So bad he can’t help but laugh too. 

Malleus Draconia 

It was very important to Malleus that you were on good terms with Lilia. You both are his most important people, not that he would vocalize how Lilia’s opinion of you mattered greatly to him. 

He knows Lilia wants his happiness, so it was more so getting you warmed up to his dorm mates. He has accepted that all his dorm residents -himself especially- are difficult to approach. He also accepts that you are more knowledgable of the world and how to handle others in comparison to himself. 

Though, he does know how to handle Lilia. He can help in this case. 

Or at least he wanted to, he thinks. You had gravitated towards the vampire of your own accord, often chatting with him during meals. He’d watch you laugh from a distance, wanting to know what’s making you smile yet not wanting to disrupt the atmosphere. He’s in that exact position currently, observing the duo chatting in the courtyard under the tree’s shade. The sun was setting, signaling the day’s end and free time for all students. He moves to leave, but his former caretaker catches his eye and motions him over. Malleus couldn’t help but deflate. Lilia could sense him from miles away, of course he knew. 

“Malleus! Why were you just standing there all alone? I know you like to be mysterious but I thought we were past that?” You ask, eyes crinkling with a laugh that Lilia joins in on. He feels a warm feeling bud in his chest, sudden but not unwelcome. 

“That matters not. You must be tired of the day’s work and I did not want to disrupt your conversation,” 

“So you chose to watch us? Again?” Lilia speaks on your behalf, encouraging your amusement.

You cut-in mis-chuckle, “You know that you’re always welcome to join us, right? All we do is tell stories and jokes. Nothing bad,” 

“Jokes? Stories?” He echos, and Lilia smirks. His eyes glint with mischief and he waves an arm dismissively. 

“Oh yes. (Y/N) tells me the funniest things, and all I have to to is share stories of your childhood,”  he says, but Malleus is more curious than embarrassed. You had taken interest in his upbringing, why be upset? He asks what kind of jokes you share, wanting to hear more. 

You grin, grabbing his hand to walk towards the main hall, “Of course I’ll share some. Though we might want to move away from those trees. They’re too shady to be trusted,” 

Lilia raises his fist to bite back a laugh as you salute him with pride. 

It takes three attempts to explain the joke, but Malleus can not remember the last time he laughed so much. 

[wordsbymae]

For both Clement and y/n they had to go against what they were made to believe, but to create and go by their own beliefs. Y/n discovered there is no such thing as a “proper wife“, but learn there is such a thing called “being Clement’s wife”. That means accepting things that would normally be demonize by the “ traditional” standards. Example:opening enjoying sex, ass slapping,etc. Clement would be the one to reassure her with “as my wife this is what you do” “ it’s fine! You’re my wife ain’t ya? This is what a wife does for her husband” “what do you mean you can’t as “my wife”, as my woman you do this for me” “ it’s normal for a woman to do this for her man. This is how a woman show her appreciation for husband, and for everything he does for her” “ what? Girl what are you yapping about? All couples take baths together“ “huh? Not my fault you walk around with a smackable ass” “ if you didn’t try to seduce me, we wouldn’t be here now would be?” “what do ya mean, aren’t you on your period?”. Help her become more comfortable around him, but more comfortable with who she is And becoming she takes a notice of Clements sensitive and guilty heart. Scenario:y/n is preparing for a date night and Clement is feeling particularly possessive and asks (demand) if she’s trying to “look good for some other bastard”(he was only a little bit joking)then she looks up at him with the sad puppy dog eyes and say “I was trying to look good for you. I don’t….look good?” He immediately reassures her “no no baby not at all” “You always look so good for me” “I’m wrong baby, don’t even know why I said that”. She learns there’s a way to be confrontational with her husband without being “disrespectful” to him. She would never thought ass slapping is Clements way of trying to show his love for her. so all those times she was bent over the table to lay down that night’s dinner and he slapped her ass, he was just simply showing his appreciation for her? But when she learns that it’s out of love, rather than hate, she comes to like it, and even desire for it.but since it’s brought to his attention of her initial displeasure of it, he would try to hold back on the butt slaps to make her feel more comfortable.So while y/n is being more open, Clement is being more closed. She would start to notice the decrease of the butt slaps and would believe he doesn’t love and or find her attractive anymore. Because that’s how he shows his love, right? so if he stops, then she must’ve done something wrong to warden this response. She would try to entice or appear more attractive to him. Making tighter and shorter dresses, perfecting her recipes, pop a few buttons to review more of her cleavage, not wearing panties under the short dresses and acting more flirty. While for Clement, it seems as if Aphrodite herself suddenly took possession of his wife’s body because she continues to turn him on progressively as their days go on. It ends with y/n giving him a fashion show while he sits in his designated Dad chair, but as the fashion show progresses the dresses get shorter and tighter, and by the end, she’s bent over, shaking her ass, asking for it. He can’t take it anymore and they fuck like rabbits on every available surface in the living room.Clement is more possessive rather than obsessive. He wants to keep his upper class wife all to himself. Because a woman like her, wouldn’t even be with a man like him in the first place. Their sons very much know that their father does not play about their mother. he believes no other man deserves her because they are all utter trash. while he’s also utter trash he believes that he’s slightly better than them and to a certain level and that’s why just a little bit he deserves her because he felt “won her��� fair and square. Present and future he would continue to provide for all her needs and desires.Hoped you liked it, I wrote it all on paper first because I didn’t have WiFi and was I was bored(it was a full page front and back). Helped me find what was necessary and unnecessary and I used voice typing :)))))).

I absolutely love this!

AHHH clement assuring his wife in his own rough way, trying so hard to help her overcome all this internalised shame. He doesn't really understand it, but he tries for his pretty lady. Also! bunny has a nickname what does this reader have! I'm partial to peaches or something like that but I would love to hear your thoughts! I love all those sentences he says, they capture his personality perfectly.

“ what? Girl, what are you yapping about? All couples take baths together“

“ if you didn’t try to seduce me, we wouldn’t be here now would we?”

these two are my favourites!!!! I love the idea of the reader saying she's going for a bath cause it's been raining recently and that means they have enough water in their tanks to have a bath. Clement thinks that obviously means him too, so the reader has set up the tub and everything and then goes to get a candle or something. Clement takes this as his chance to jump in and the reader just shrieks when she sees him naked in the bath waiting for her. she tries to get him out saying it's inappropriate and everything else and he is just so confused.

and the second one?? I bet she hadn't even tried to seduce him, she was probably doing something so mundane and boring yet he just gets turned on by the sight of her and he's "blaming" her, saying it's all her fault and that he wouldn't have her sitting on his thighs if she didn't look so pretty.

I and I can't stress this enough, fucking loved the scenario. Maybe he had a bad day at work or was reminded that he's not good enough for her and that one day she might leave him (never never would he let that happen) and yeah he gets possessive and

asks (demand) if she’s trying to “look good for some other bastard”(he was only a little bit joking)then she looks up at him with the sad puppy dog eyes and say “I was trying to look good for you. I don’t….look good?” He immediately reassures her “no no baby not at all” “You always look so good for me” “I’m wrong baby, don’t even know why I said that”.

I think it really shows how far they've come cause when they first got married (the reader is practically forced to), he wouldn't have tried to comfort her, instead might have doubled down. but now he loves to love her and doesn't want to make her sad.

the angst? the drama? spot on! I love that he would distance himself thinking he's doing her a favour but she gets so worried he is distancing himself cause he doesn't love her anymore and trying so desperately to get his attention even though she has always had it, and him just barely holding himself back. perfection

FASHION SHOW???? OF COURSE

i love home fashion shows, ahh just so good. she's got it all planned out too. she's got the dresses sorted and the lingerie picked and some new high heels that look so good on her and it's all planned out so he never stood a chance. and she gives him these innocent eyes acting like she has no idea what she's doing to him. man, I'm about to go feral.

oh yeah very possessive like a dog with a bone sorta thing. he knows he's not good for her, but he'll be damned if some sorry loser is gonna try and snatch her away. finders keepers and all that.

I loved it!!!! I love anything you send me!!!! I'm too scared to do voice typing cause Siri can't even understand me so I know for a fact my laptop won't

Sorry for it being so short! I'm sick at the moment (probs from all the study and stress :) )

[batwritings]

Sam gets butterflies whenever you call him Sammy, turning into a blushy mess so how about a scenario where Sam is on warden duties and you show up to give him a packed lunch of his favourite snacks (and a note which consists of an endearing poem) and he basically tackles you when he gets home into cuddles on the couch?

👀👀👀 just a thought

The first pure fluff! I’m so here for it, this boy needs some love dammit, haha. Enjoy~!

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

Sam didn’t fluster easily, especially when he was on the job. He had a dangerous work life, all things considered. Yet there was always one little thing you did that would get him to turn into a blushing mess.

“There’s my warden,” chimes your voice, as you enter the prison. His eyes widen a little, trying not to let himself smile. You wander in, lunchbox in hand. “You forgot something this morning.”

Sam can’t keep the chuckle out of his voice when he responds. “Thanks Y/N,” he says, taking it from you. “That’s what I get for sleeping in a little.”

You smile back at him, pecking him on the cheek despite his request that you keep your relationship lowkey while he was working. “God forbid I visit you at your job,” you joke. “Anyway, I gotta get back, but I’ll see you after your shift Sammy. Bye!” And with that you’re gone.

Sam inhales sharply, trying to stop steam from pouring out his mask. He quickly takes his lunch into his office so he’s out of sight. He’ll have to add that to the list of things you maybe shouldn’t do while he’s on shift. You never fully understood how that little nickname got under his skin so bad, but boy did it make him weak in the knees.

Once he’d finally calmed down he opens the lunch you’d brought for him, removing his mask to eat. The first thing he notices is the little note, neatly folded on top. He unfolded it carefully, reading the sweet poem you had written for him. 

“His beautiful smile the sweet look in his eyes he’s a daydream come to life. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. He’s my safe place to hide, on lonely nights.”

His heart felt light, a warmth blooming in his chest at your sweet words. Just beneath the note was his all time favorite snack that you had baked for him. It was then he realized, yes, tonight was going to be an early end to his shift. He wasn’t waiting a second longer than he had to just to see you again.

The rest of his day flew by, his thoughts preoccupied with seeing you again. Quackity even commented that he sounded more chipper than normal, something uncommon when the shorter man came to visit Dream. Sam did his best to blow the comment off, but he refused to deny his excitement when he left the prison that day.

You heard the door open to your shared home and barely had time to greet Sam before he took you up in his arms, spinning you as he held you tight. You giggle at him as he showered you in kisses.

“Hey! Hey! Sammy!” You laugh as he stops briefly. “What’s all this about huh?”

“I was just really excited to see you sweetheart,” he says softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I missed you.”

[alaina-berry]

Nimbasa City Warden - Part 8

Running on maybe two and a half hours of sleep and about three or four cups of coffee, Ingo walked alongside Emmet to work. His arm was throbbing from the druddigon last night, his nerves and brain were on hyperdrive from the shock of… everything that happened in the few hours after his shift ended. Elesa had spent the night that night, concerned for the boys’ mental state. Emmet kept glancing over at Ingo in his peripheral, seeing he was slouched and dark rings had formed under his eyes. “Y-you okay?” he asked.

Emmet pat Ingo’s back, “Do… do you want me to call Cilan in and have him take over your shift? You can ride with me today?”

Ingo took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “Not particularly…”  he said, “If I’m going to be honest…” he swallowed, “I think the only thing that could have gone wrong that didn’t go wrong yesterday was you getting hurt by that druddigon.” he said. “And those punks from the tunnels.” he hissed.

“No, I can work.” Ingo shook his head, “I could use the distraction…” he straightened up, his back crackling all along his upper spine.

“Ingo, I watched you drink way too much coffee this morning and visit the restroom about three times before we left the apartment. I’d tell you to just go home and get some sleep. But I know you... You won't sleep and you’re just going to lie there and stress yourself out. Also- if I'm going to be honest... I’m terrified of leaving you alone where I can’t reach you. I couldn't handle losing you again.” Emmet argued. “Please, you can rest in my cab today. Cilan can cover for you…” he urged, “A tired and distracted conductor is not a safe one, Ingo. Remember?” His eyes showed worry, his mouth in a thin, tight smile. Ingo wanted his support, but he needed his help even more.

Ingo looked his brother in the eye. Emmet was speaking in shorter sentences than normal and had that 'nervous smile'... something he only did around Ingo if he was stressed out or nervous about something. “Yeah…” he sighed, then rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right…” he nodded, “We’re not scheduled for battles today, are we?”

Emmet shook his head, “No, I changed the schedule around…” he said, “Battles are scheduled for Saturdays and Tuesdays now.” he said. He opened the door and let Ingo in first, then followed close behind. The morning crowd had arrived and were taking their commute to work or school or whichever applied. Some people with a little more spare time turned and saw Ingo and Emmet, gasping and clamoring over to get pictures and selfies with ‘the guys that took out the druddigon with their bare hands’. Emmet put an arm around Ingo and briskly walked him to the security office, ducking and weaving around excited fans. Emmet sat him down and took a deep breath. “If only we could both call out, huh?” he asked.

Ingo shrugged, “Am I just 'the pokemon wrestler' now?”

Emmet chuckled, “Not a lot of people can defeat a pokemon without another pokemon.” he said. “Yeah, you’re getting quite the reputation…”

Ingo exhaled, “Well, so are you, since you had the guts to even try.” he said, a ghost of a smirk creeping on his face. Though he was hardly in the mood.

There were screams in the lobby, which led Ingo to roll his eyes, “What is it now…?” he groaned as he and Emmet stood up to investigate. They trotted away from the safety of the security office and watched people as they cleared away in places.

Ingo had realized he misheard- the mistaking the exclamations and surprised shouts for legitimate screams like those from last night with the druddigon incident. What was going on?

He and Emmet exchanged looks once more, “Ready to fight another one?” Emmet smirked.

Ingo rolled his eyes and stepped forward, squinting and looking through the crowd, faintly spotting a... wait...

Was that…?

A sneasel?

Ingo blinked, he was still adjusting to Unova…

Those were native to Hisu- Sinnoh. No- This one was Johtonian.

Hisuian sneasel were extinct...

The dark-colored pokemon was trying to hide behind some vending machines, people starting to crowd the pokemon not typically found here in Unova. “Excuse me, please.” Ingo tried squeezing between people. However, he kept getting bumped.

Emmet tried moving through people too, and had seen the brief surprise in Ingo’s eyes at the sight of the pokemon. “Excuse us, can we get through?” he asked, trying to nudge by, but people shoved by him, and one even stepped on his foot, causing him to shout out.

Hearing Emmet's yelp, Ingo tensed and gripped Emmet's sleeve to pull him closer, “Everyone, clear a path please!” Ingo straightened up and barked.

The sudden outburst caused people to jump and back away from the cowering sneasel pressing itself between a vending machine and a ticket kiosk. Ingo and Emmet shot looks at the crowd and started to approach the sneasel. Ingo’s expression softened when he saw the shaking pokemon. Emmet stood between the crowd and his brother, keeping them at bay as his brother took off his coat and knelt, trying to beckon the frightened pokemon. When close enough, Ingo let the sneasel sniff his hand and started petting- long feather- his head gently. Once the sneasel seemed comfortable enough, Ingo was able to carefully put his coat over the sneasel and pick him up. His ear was notched, he noticed. Ingo frowned- this was recently…

Very recently.

The open skin was still very red and very tender, like it had just stopped bleeding. He cradled the sneasel close to his chest and walked up to his brother, who was trying to usher people to move along and to catch their trains. “Emmet. We need to take him to a pokemon center.” he said, his tone low.

Emmet looked at the fuzzy pokemon bundled in the jacket. Then smiled- Ingo’s been working with Sneasler the last five years…

Of course he could pacify just about any sneasel.

Emmet nodded, “I’ll let Cilan know…” he said, “I’m going with you.” he said.

“Emmet-”

“Ingo.” Emmet gave his brother a stern look. He had just told him he wasn’t letting him out of his sight. "I"m calling out."

Ingo knew this. He couldn’t blame him. He sighed and shrugged, “Let us depart, then.”

Emmet retrieved his phone from his pocket and made the brief phone call as he walked close to Ingo’s side.

While Emmet made the call, Ingo held the sneasel close and securely, one hand supporting the pokemon’s small body, the other holding his head and running a thumb under the sneasel’s ear, a soft rumbling emitted from the sneasel.

After the theft last night, part of him hoped this sneasel didn’t belong to someone so he may adopt him.

Master Post

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY SUPPOSITION SUNDAY: The Warden

SPOILER WARNING!  It’s still a thing, and, if you haven’t yet, you still need to watch Megamind.  (If you have seen it already, however, you need to see it again.  Because it’s awesome.)

Yes, yes, the post is three days late this time.  Real life has to take priority and such. So sue me.  (Don’t really do that.  LOL!)

For that same reason—or more accurately because this week has exhausted me—I will attempt to make this post shorter than usual.  We’ll see how that goes.  My money is on “not well.”  LOL.

Anyway, today we’re going to look at a subject that often divides the Megamind fandom: the Warden and his relationship with Megamind. There are several fan theories—I mean, suppositions—surrounding this, but I’m going to be focusing on a few of the main ones.

The first of these is that the Warden was actually a father figure to Megamind when he was young, allowing him to be raised in jail not out of cruelty or disinterest, but because it was the only way to keep him safe from shadowy government agencies that otherwise would have performed all sorts of experiments on the blue alien.  This both accounts for why a child would be allowed to grow up in what is clearly a high-security prison for dangerous adult criminals—something that, admittedly, needs some sort of explanation—and fits with widely accepted sci-fi and comic book tropes. (From Area 51 to mysterious “Men in Black” type organizations, fiction is full of government agencies created to study extraterrestrial life and technology.)  Some even go so far as to suggest that the Warden may have tried to adopt Megamind officially, but was blocked from doing so by these same entities. On top of this, such an idea also offers room to re-imagine the Warden as a much more interesting, complex, and sympathetic character.  Indeed, there has been some excellent fan fiction written about this pseudo-parental relationship.

Art: Fathers And Sons Day by tabbydragon

There is some evidence to support this.  The first is that, although the Warden behaves harshly toward Megamind in the “jail-break” scene near the beginning of the film, Megamind himself seems to be trying to engage in a playful exchange: pranking the older man, wishing him a good morning, and even teasing him.  While some say that this is simply Megamind’s personality as well as his determination to always appear indominable, others suggest that, perhaps, the blue man is trying to recapture a lost amiability between himself and the prison Warden.  It is possible that, when he was younger and less villainous, Megamind might have exchanged friendly jokes and greetings with the man in charge of the jail he called home.  It has even been suggested that the Warden is so hard on the blue man at the beginning of the film not because he hates Megamind, but because Megamind’s life choices have hurt and alienated his father figure. This idea finds some support in the facts that, when Megamind leaves jail to confront Titan, the Warden wished him good luck, and at the end of the movie, that same man seems genuinely happy as he watches the television broadcast of his one-time prisoner being named Defender of Metro City.  Finally, there is some evidence from the comics which, although not truly considered canon, as I’ve mentioned before, do offer some material for fan theories.  In the “episode” entitled Bad Minion! Bad! Megamind runs into the Warden in a bar, and the latter offers the former advice.  There is certainly a somewhat fatherly feel to the scene.

The second theory is exactly the opposite: that the Warden either did not care for or outright disliked the former supervillain.  Unfortunately, as fun as the Warden/Father Figure concept is, this second, darker idea has far stronger evidence to support it in the film itself.  (Try not to hate me, everyone.)  These clues range from the obvious to the subtle, but there are quite a few of them to be found.

During the first scene in which we see Warden interact with Megamind, he doesn’t behave like an angry, disappointed father—at least not a good one.  He isn’t merely surly toward Megamind; he is absolutely nasty. The Warden verbally condemns the alien, telling him that he’ll “always be a villain,” and essentially steals what he believes is a gift for the blue man, even taunting him by saying: “I think I’ll keep it!”  This hardly seems like the actions of someone who once felt any sort of affection for the extraterrestrial.  That same portion of the movie holds another clue as well: the screens monitoring Megamind’s brain activity.  Indeed, in original concept art for the film, the system appears both more invasive and more nightmarish.  It seems that, far from protecting Megamind, the Warden may have actually allowed him to be experimented upon.

Next, there is the newspaper article at the beginning of the title sequence, which bears the headline “Hometown Boy Makes Bad.” It’s hard to see what the paper says, of course, even if you bother to really notice it, but luckily for us Liz (Demishock) wrote a wonderfully thorough blog post which, among other things, provides a transcript of the “news story.”  In it, the Warden is quoted as referring to young Megamind as a born villain as well as abnormal.  

You don't know this kid. I've watched the little criminal since he was in diapers. This kid is just a bad seed. I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him - I mean, have you seen the size of his head?…  It's not like he's a normal kid… I mean, have you gotten a good look at his gigantic blue head? I don't know where you come from, but where I come it's just not right.

Granted, there seems to be some truth to what the Warden is saying, as the article also mentions that Megamind, who can hardly have been more than seven years old at the time, has basically been put into solitary confinement for the safety of other prisoners following an unnamed incident, adding that the other inmates “refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.”  (This fits with the fan theory that young Megamind would have had to both fight and develop a fearsome reputation in order to protect himself. You can read more about that in the post How Strong is Megamind?) However, the Warden seems to dwell a lot on the fact that Megamind looks alien, and he displays an obvious dislike for the young boy.

Finally, there is evidence hidden in the school scene, although it’s easy to miss. In an amazing two-part video series, Megamind: A City of Deception. YouTuber The Theorizer illustrates several hidden clues about Megamind’s early life and how it it led him to embrace villainy.  (I will very likely write another post going into more detail about that at a later date.)  One thing that The Theorizer discovered is a seemingly innocuous detail in the background during the popcorn scene.  Take a moment to examine the images below.  Look closely at the blackboard and you’ll see a paper cut out of a school bus.  Look even more closely at that and you’ll find something odd: the bus is full of crayon-drawn children except for one figure: an adult male, riding in the back of the bus, who looks suspiciously like the Warden as he appears at the beginning of the film. 

In a movie where so much attention is given to small things—I mean, seriously, the animation team actually went through the trouble to write a news story for a paper that was on the screen less than ten seconds—this cannot possibly be a coincidence.  (You can learn more about the artists’ amazing dedication to detail in my post What’s Hidden in the Animation?)  Although it is vaguely possible that Megamind, painfully aware of how much his appearance was despised, chose to draw the Warden’s face instead of his own, most fans believe there is a darker reason for this oddity.  

Think about it: the Li’l Gifted School for Li’l Gifted Kids is built close by a jail with a strangely similar name: Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted.   It’s clearly a small academy, yet the only two known aliens in the city—who, by the way, have extremely different social backgrounds—both just happen to attend there.  And now the prison warden appears to be somehow involved with the elementary school?  It’s bizarre.  Add to this the fact that the young alien adopted by a privileged family—a boy who possessed super-strength and laser vision—seemed inclined to be a bully, (as is made obvious by the kickball scene,) and a disturbing fan theory emerges.  Adults realized that Wayne Smith, the child who would eventually become Metro Man, might prove dangerous if left unchecked, and came up with a plan to turn him into a hero instead.  Wayne was showered with praise, conditioning him to seek public approval, but a superhero needs a nemesis.  The strange-looking, unwanted blue boy who’d already been labeled a criminal would have seemed like the obvious choice.  If this is true, then Megamind was purposefully, albeit covertly, groomed to become a supervillain from a young age, and the Warden played a major role in doing that.

So there you have it.  Two competing fan theories concerning the Warden’s connection with Megamind.  Both have some evidence supporting them, and there are fans who are firmly dedicated to one or the other.  Which is true?  Did the Warden care for Megamind like a son but distance himself when the boy turned to villainy?  Or did he judge and despise Megamind but come around to liking him when he finally realized what sort of person the blue man was deep down?  The fact is that those questions can be argued for hours on end.  No matter which of these suppositions you prefer, however, the mere fact that even a minor supporting character is complex enough to offer room for this debate speaks to the impressive amount of work and devotion that went into creating this amazing animated film.

[jack-enbyfold]

Describing DSMP characters because I can’t draw well enough to do them justice

Hey, this is inspired by @jackstanifold, love you, my dear, sorry for stealing your idea/p

Dream- Just some dude in a smiley face mask, nothing visibly special. Green eyes, blond hair with a smattering of freckles and a lean build. Wears light armor over a green hoodie. Moves more with purpose and seems to move only when he needs to, light on his feet and fast. 

Punz- Very similar in appearance to Dream with blond cropped hair, blue eyes and a younger face then cc!Punz for some reason (possibly because of his icon), has a large build than Dream though but still very lean, moves like a soldier, facial scars and slightly pointed ears (only noticeable if you look close), lots of piercings as well as their ender pearl medallion

Eret- They look off, like obviously their eyes are whited out but there's something else to them that makes them look inhuman, holds themselves high and almost constantly has their hands in view (mainly clasped in front of them on at their sides), longer fluffier hair then cc!Eret normally has

BBH- The classic 9ft tall demon (though he can adjust his size), his main body is a black that seems to suck the light from nearby if not covered, his eyes and mouth do the opposite though emitting light, moves a little too smoothly to be human and very catlike in his reactions and ways of emoting

Sam- 2 sets of arms, patches of green on his skin with black eyes (the skin around them also having a black tinge), a mouth that’s a little too big with sharp teeth and black gums that he hides behind a gas mask, very tall and large in stature but actively tries to make himself look smaller a lot (unless he’s in warden mode)

Phil- has bat wings with torn skin that prevents his from flying, just looks like cc!Phil with shoulder length hair and a few extra scars on his jaw and eyebrow, has a small braid on the side of his head, pierced ears with mainly gold and emerald based jewelry, bucket hat, seems like he moves causally but is always on a guard, uses his wings to gesture a lot

Techno- Big pig man, not sexy anime boy just pig, has tusks and a rose ring as well as lots of tears in his ears from where there used to be earrings, heavy in his footfalls and movements, preferring to keep still and subdued when talking normally and using wide gestures when making speeches 

Niki- not much changes about her general appearance, she just looks a little more war hardened, her hair is shorter (having lost some of the ends to fires and war) and the dye in it is growing out, she also has more muscle bulk then cc!Niki and moves more cautiously

Ranboo- very tall and looks stretched and odd, split is not a clear 50/50 with his eyes and arms being odd shapes, lacks a mouth unless he opens it at which point he has no teeth or tongue, the only part of him that looks vaguely human is his red eye and his general body shape, despite being over 7ft, he tries to shrink into himself a lot and moves awkwardly, during his enderwalk he moves a lot more fluidly and is very feline in reactions and movement

Tommy- 

Pre Exile: Doesn’t look that different from cc!Tommy, still has his braces, has scars from the 16th and his two deaths, missing part of his eyebrow due to it being singed off, stands and moves like a soldier despite being a kid, sharp canines 

Post Exile- longer hair but choppy and missing length in some areas (chin length in some spots), farmer’s tan from exile and small burn scars from being too close to lava and TNT, a lot skinner especially in the face, still has braces, still tries to hold himself to the same standard when it comes to posture and movement but just doesn’t have the energy most the time

Tubbo- started with shorter blond hair (box bleached) that grew out to cover his eyes by the time he’s in Snowchester, visible roots, goat horns that grow straight up, can’t drop his posture due to ages of either standing as soldier or standing as a president, scaring over his arms and the sides of his face as he brought his arms up to protect himself 

Fundy- Literally just an anthro fox, scarring on his muzzle and missing a part of his ear, the fur on his tail is almost always singed, has really good posture like Tubbo (for the same reason) until he runs, always looks slightly panicky and nervous when he moves even when he’s calm

Wilbur- looks a little older then cc!Wilbur be it stress or actual age, there’s a near permanent dent in his lower lip where his cigarettes usually sit and the tips of his fingers are stained, skinny to the point of concern but hides it with a jacket, he constantly holds himself loosely and uses wide sweeping gestures when he talks, slow and calm in his movements despite his paranoia   

[auncyen]

since vday is coming up have angsty pegoryu bit that is doomed to never make it into the fic it was intended for

There were three guards at the intersection, and Ryuji watched them with narrow eyes. Two of them looked like all the other guards they'd already fought, tall and thin and looming. And then the third--

"We should take that one hostage, right?" Ryuji asked. "He's a shrimp."

"Actually, I'm getting some weird readings off him," Futaba said. "I'd advise caution."

"Besides, taking hostages isn't going to work with these shadows," Morgana muttered. "Remember, they're all distorted to think nothing is better than serving the Palace master. If you take one of them hostage, the others will just leave it to die."

Ryuji grunted. He wanted to fight, find Ren quickly, but he guessed that plan wouldn't work.

"That one does look weird," Ann said. She squinted. "Doesn't it look...human? Fox?"

"Yes, I noticed the same thing," he said with a nod. "It's not easy to see from this distance, but its chin is visible between the mask and jacket. It does look human. Actually..." He made a noise that nearly sounded pained.

"Fox?" Haru prompted gently.

"...Again, the distance makes it difficult to be certain of details. But, though we came to look for Joker as an inmate, I...I want to say that warden is him. He's standing straighter, and his shoulders are broader. The jacket may be bulkier than his thief suit. Otherwise, those are his proportions. And his jawline."

In better circumstances Ryuji would rib Yusuke about being able to tell his boyfriend's jaw from fifteen meters away.

These were not good circumstances. Now that Yusuke had mentioned it, the shorter, more modest stature really looked too much like a human's proportions compared to the other shadows. It looked right for Ren's size.

...Ren being one of the aggressive guards instead of a passive prisoner was going to make things messier.

"Oracle," Makoto spoke up. "Does that make sense at all for the readings you have?"

"...Unfortunately, yeah." Futaba squinted behind her googles, tapping at a minimized console. "He doesn't read exactly like Joker usually does, but he has that mutable quality. Like he could change into other things."

"The wildcard ability," Morgana murmured, his ears flattened. "That's him for sure. I know it."

Makoto chewed her lip. "All right. We separate that one from the normal guards. If that is Joker, he's distorted from the Palace, so we'll need to rip his--that mask off. if we're lucky, that will be enough to snap him out of it. Panther, have Dormina ready, we don't want to harm him."

"Got it," Ann said with a serious nod. "Hecate and I will give him sweet dreams."

"Oracle--"

"Final Guard? Been ready."

"Skull. You're up for the ambush."

Ryuji swallowed down a gulp. He had the most practice with ambushes besides Ren, yeah, but he still wasn't sure he could ambush Joker. And not just because Ren was more skilled at those. This was his boyfriend. Even if Ann was ready to put him to sleep so no one got hurt, could she be sure she'd get the spell to stick the first time?

"Skull," Makoto repeated. "...I'll do it, if you can't."

Makoto had less experience than him. She also had shorter arms, which didn't help when you were reaching to pry off a mask, and she couldn't sprint as fast as he could. Ren was distorted--he might hurt whoever tried the ambush. "No, I got this," Ryuji said.

He did not.

They waited for the right moment, as the guard-possibly-Ren started to approach their hiding spot. At first it seemed like he was making a patrol same as other wardens, so they waited for him to pass by or turn away from their hiding spot, but then Futaba whispered: "Incoming."

Ryuji snuck a glance. Under the bulky visor-like mask, a small grin had started on the guard's face. It grew as he beelined toward them. Like he knew exactly where they were.

And Fox was right. That was unmistakably Ren's jawline, and his wild smile when he thought he had the upper hand in a fight.

Ryuji swore under his breath and launched himself out of hiding so he could at least make an attempt to get the strange black mask off. He jumped right at Ren, hoping Ann was ready with Dormina--

And Ren just fucking sidestepped him like the ninja he was. Then, to add injury to insult, his baton caught Ryuji on the shin, tripping him up.

The blow was softened when he caught Ryuji before the blond could hit the ground. The baton dangled slack as the hand that had been holding it rose, delicately moving his mask to the side to expose more of his face.

Ren's eye peeked out from the mask, irises red as the veins of Mementos, still half-hidden under curly black bangs, and Ryuji felt his heart thud in his chest.

But Ren chuckled, smiling like Ryuji was the best thing he'd ever seen. "Caught you," he bragged, like they'd both just been playing around. Still holding the blond, he lowered his face and kissed him.

The sudden turnaround was too much, too fast for Ryuji; his first instinct was to pull away. But in his position, he didn't have good leverage, and Ren seemed to take his lips pulling away as an invitation to chase. At the second kiss, Ryuji felt himself softening, some of the tension uncurling from his muscles. The disorientation from nearly falling faded as he got his feet back under him. And despite the strange mask and warden's uniform, Ren helped him along. Once upright, Ryuji grabbed the stiff warden jacket and eagerly returned the kiss. Would Ren be doing this if he was still stuck on that bullshit about giving up his desires? No way. Maybe just seeing them had been enough to jog something for him. Maybe just seeing Ryuji had been enough to break through the distortion. The blond had never considered himself a romantic before, but he was willing to consider true love breaking curses when Ren was kissing him so, so passionately, hungrily.

Desperately. This time, Ren pulled away, wrenching Ryuji's hand off him and taking a couple steps back, and Ryuji knew from the wide red eye that something was wrong. Ren palmed the strange mask back over his face, hiding his expression except for the tight smile at his lips.

"Lust...how disappointing. Still clinging to that desire."

Ryuji's fists tightened. So Ren's head was still full of that distorted bullshit. Ryuji might not be a romantic, but he knew for damn sure that his feelings were more than just lust. "Joker," he said, "We're bringing you back home."

Ren shook his head. He clasped the baton more firmly in hand again, his back ramrod straight. "Lord Yaldabaoth made you all a generous offer. You can still take it. Leave now, and your trespass will be overlooked."

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Stargazers

@briarfox13 won a fic from my giveaway and requested a piece with her Asha Mahariel and Alistair. Had a lot of fun writing this, Alistair always deserves some love! Soft lemons.

Asha wears the rose he gave her, tucked behind her pointed ear. Alistair picked it in Lothering, not desiring to see so red and beautiful a bloom tainted by the oncoming darkness. Wynne enchanted it for her, she told him a day after he gave it to her, and now it is as permanent to her as her tattoos—worn to commemorate the gods, she says. The rose—if he is bold enough to think—commemorates the two of them. They are something good in this darkness.

He thinks the red is now a more vibrant scarlet, and it sticks out against the white-grey of her hair. She leans against him and he wraps an arm around her. She’s petite where he feels too broad, tall and awkward, and yet her body fits against his, careful. When they first met, he found her quiet and contemplative, and he a bumbling idiot that talked for both of them and then some. Despite this she would occasionally offer a contemplative, sweet smile that was both thrilling and assuring. Them, it happened more and more. When he kissed her she kissed back. It was the best assurance of all. When they made love for the first time in her tent, she laid her pointed ear against his beating heart, and they were blissfully quiet, further steady reassurances, and a bloom in the midst of the Blight. They bloomed together.  

Not too far from camp, but far enough to where they feel at least somewhat alone and unburdened, they watch the stars together. They both take comfort in the fact that though they have the weight of the world on their shoulders, there is something out there beyond far greater than they. They should be afraid perhaps of the great beyond that the stars above beckon, and yet the stars blanket their bodies as they blanket the entire world, and they remind of a vast expanse. They suggest perhaps that there is a world out there somewhere where the two are nothing more or less than lovers. Asha always loved the stars and taught Alistair to love them too, though he sees no greater stars than the ones in her eyes.

They’ve been careful and tentative romantics for months and lovers since he gave her the rose about one month ago, and now they’ve recently become lovers in the physical sense. He was complete before with what they had, and it wasn’t as though he thought he needed that aspect of their relationship for it to be fulfilling, but rather it’s a blooming of another sort. How they both bloom to be delighted and overjoyed. How all too eager he is to feel her thighs on either side of his waist as she rides him. It’s a new way to express himself, a new way to tell her he loves her without words.

He loves her, Maker.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.

He does so, loosing that gentle and blessed weight of her against him for something just as—if not more—enticing, the feel of her lips. He could spend hours painting and retracing the lines of her lips with his own, but he also does enjoy the look in her eyes after, with her pupils blown wide with want and her lips pink from his ministrations. His too big hand cups her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. Ardently his eyes pay tribute to the rose, his other hand running through her white-grey hair,   inadvertently undoing the small buns.  Maker but she is beautiful. Not a day passes where he doesn’t understand how lucky of a man he is.

“We should head back,” she mutters, even though she leans in for another kiss, her lips firm before she parts. “They’ll be looking for us.”

“They know we’re alright. We protect each other.”

“Yes. Always.”

Always is such a word. It’s both the now and far beyond, even far beyond their short lives that will be made shorter still because of their tainted blood. Maker, but the thought of her tainted or corrupted, and he too feels he could never be so with her. He kisses her again to feel as Alistair and not the Warden, and she answers by wrapping her arms around him. The stars watch them as it turns to more.

It’s not a seamless transition by any means. They are both buckled and armored and it takes entirely too long to spring free all the clasps, yet when finally they are finally without armor and only in their underclothes, Alistair lays himself on the grass, Asha positioning herself near him. She only wears her billowy white tunic and he his breeches, though they slide down easily enough after her nimble fingers undo the strings. They slide away, back to the ocean of stars. He shouldn’t be so bold as to have her here, but she is a woman born of the stars and the sky, traveling with her aravels. A nomadic lifestyle isn’t new to her. A moment with a lover outside isn’t so unseemly for her, and he makes it his normal. What a luxury a bed is, and he cares not for one, only to slide away to the stars. As she makes love to him, rides him, he holds and grips her hips and her hair falls behind her in soft waves, the rose remaining carefully tucked away behind her ear.

They are quiet after, holding each other and waiting a moment before they scramble and put their armor back on. Wynne will surely smirk at the two of them and Morrigan will groan, but he rather finds he doesn’t mind if they all know exactly what they do when they’re alone. They both are allowed few luxuries, like a bed or a bath every night (though thank the Maker Asha minds not.) This, they can have. Each other, they can have.

Her hand is gentle against his chest, her ear pressed against his heart. They are tangled and sated stargazers, a constellation of another sort. He whispers it, “I love you,” and Maker he will never take it back.

She peers at him, traces his lips with her finger. “I love you too,” she whispers back. “Always.”

They kiss and always is both now and eternity.

[biinaberry]

The Man with the Spiral Sweater

23

10 pages.. 10 pages and I have nothing. What am I even supposed to write about? He gave me no list and just told me to finish these before he visits. What would he even want me writing about? Imagination and storytelling aren’t my strong suit, yet I guess this is my irony. The one thing that I haven’t practiced over and over. This is going to be a chore.

Well... I guess that counted as filling this book, but 10 pages of just me questioning the words of a teenager wouldn’t be the most exciting thing in the world… What are the limits here? Does he want full sentences or do bullet points work? I really wished he actually told me what he wanted. 

Maybe I can use this book for concepts. Get my thoughts down and then work from there into something that he would enjoy. Now, what do we have to work with?

History book (write down everything) Doesn’t want a rehash of everything

History (Our Pov)  Definitely wouldn’t believe what I say

Instructional guide Can’t explain/demonstrate pvp when it isn’t in person

Doodle book?  Boring

Something I have experience in?

Something you have experience in

Now we have something, I remember someone saying that the best writing comes from your own experiences. Okay. Good. Good. We have a start.. Now what do we have to work with:

PVP

Survival skills

Connections

Consequences

Letting go

Awareness

Those you are working with

Partner’s connections

Emotions

Strategies

Location

Those beyond what you see

Wait

wait wait wait wait

…..

I’ll get back to this later

25

He didn’t visit. 

Should have expected that honestly, god that was idiotic to actually believe him. 

Says you tormented him and you expect him to actually want to face you again, like the first visit went so well. At least it gives me more time to actually process this…assignment.

There are some extra books. 5 more than needed if I remember correctly. 5 mistakes, 5 chances to redo… 5 books I can use for myself. But why would I need these extra ones? I have no use for them. I’ll go back to brainstorming

31?

Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip

Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip

Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip

That's all I hear anymore, at least a week of just the sizzling lava to keep me company here. I thought chucking that clock would bring the warden’s attention, but that was for not. Beyond the loss of communication, now time is against my side as well. 

It had to have been at least a day right? No way it couldn’t have been. Yet why hasn’t the warden come back? Meals were at least once a day, so what is taking so long. He should have visited by now. Maybe different measures will get his attention.

??

I find it harder to pick up the pen every time I fall asleep. I wonder if one day it will be stuck here, unable to even stand up. 

Could I leave? I will one day, inevitably but will the rest of the world allow me? Or will they keep pushing against me until I give the reaction they are looking for just to send me back here. I might follow them then, try not to change their mind because what use is it to change those who are not willing to do so. Or maybe I'm the one who still needs changing, or maybe neither do. If I were given the choice:

I don't want to leave, not yet. 

I’m not ready.

What would await me out there? How much will be different, and how much will be the same? 

The latter half is what keeps me awake really, how much wouldn’t change. Would Sapnap still want to spar with me or simply banter, or just sit around and watch nature with me and George. George.. God what a mess that will be wouldn’t it. Another burnt bridge for a plan I believed in, do I- should I fix these connections? I internally want to say yes, yet I feel the urge to just let it be. Let the sleeping dog lie for what good is it to try and reform what cannot be made. Would creating new connections work? Is that a better approach? 

Good thing I have a long and silent time in order to do so. 

I used to believe obsidian was a sign of adventure, to face one's fears and enter a world unlike those you’ve grown up in, yet this isn’t the same obsidian. The tools made to form your own path and mark your own now a tomb for myself and the land I called my home. To contain instead of release, to wither instead of strengthen. What do you do now with no one by your side. Do whatever you want? 

I could never

I already stood alone and now I stand with the dust and ashes of a self I do not see as my own...

To fear the inhuman isn’t wise. More than 60 percent of the population is some form of inhuman, even if they don’t appear so at first glance. I, a mannequin, Wilbur, part whale and Quackity.. is quackity. However to say what I saw was your typical inhumanoid would be an understatement- 

I need to stop. I don’t want- But I-.. they won’t find this right? I don’t want them to- they Can’t find this. I’ll burn it if I have to- but.. But this- I need this..

I can scribble it out if needed, or rip the page out! I- Are those footsteps.. No no no- He- The Warden isn’t until later. Don’t let them know. Don’t let them know. 

But things will get worse if I don’t say anything.

I always felt watched, ever since I first made a name for myself. Whether it was from an adoring fan or those parting the way, not wanting to inconvenience me. So I’m not unused to having attention thrusted upon me at any opportune moment, even if I wasn’t trying to be. Though after a few months there started to be this.. presence to say the least. I could never identify who or where this feeling came from, but there was this feeling of.. wrongness. Like how you feel like you are forgetting something, but it’s on the tip of your tongue. It always happened when I was alone or nearly so. I rarely found myself in any form; whether that was doing challenges with Sapnap and George or simply bantering with Callahan and the others. I never liked the quiet, maybe that's just from the manhunts, but the anticipation of waiting for something to happen was never a comfort to me. I’d much rather be the one causing that then be on the receiving end-

When I first realized he was there, I wished I didn’t. Ironic in a way, it was a tournament.. or well more so a duel between me and Techno. The air was crisp but not too cold, the way you imagine August to be before the first chills of October. And even though I lost that day, what made me stop was what I saw while on the ground, exhausted after the final round. To describe him as anything moral would be a lie. He was watching us; watching me, and I’m used to people staring. I'm not the most humanoid creature in existence, but that man. There was something off with him. 

The me back then wouldn’t have remembered anything physical about him other than the innate feeling of deja vu when we made eye contact. And then it clicked and at that moment, I felt myself want to run. But I couldn’t, millions are watching and if I run now then all that attention would be used against me. I bared through the hollow feeling of Techno hauling me up off of the floor and eventually meeting the duel organizer and his crew. And right there was when I saw him. Shorter than me by a few inches with brown eyes and a smile others would see as trustworthy, he had a simple black hoodie with a smiley face, my own merch. It shouldn’t have affected me as much since the event literally had my name plastered over it, but the implications of that sweater did not bode well with me. 

He congratulated Techno and said his condolences with me, saying he was rooting for me the whole time, but the only thing I processed was how it felt like claws were grabbing at me when we shook hands. I was clearly bigger than him, yet it felt like I was miniscule compared to him. As if something was hiding just below his skin and was just waiting for the right opportunity to rip it away from me. His grip was like 10 different hands were digging into my plastic skin and were hooking their claws into me. He told me his name, but I can’t remember it, it feels like static and errors, the kind of noises George would emit after getting severely injured, but he had no scratches on him; no implications of injuries either. I took as swift a leave as I could while also being respectful, but I could not wait to leave that man's sight. 

He never did leave me.

Out of the corner of my eye I could almost see him, and understand why I hated that handshake. His body was stretched, his legs disproportionate to his body, arms almost touching the ground and his hands. His hands looked like three separate pairs of fingers were all melted together on the same base, yet each moving together in sync. Besides the blatant horror that I couldn’t even perceive head on, it was the purple tint to him that really made me double take, not just turning around and questioning why he hasn’t left me alone yet. Purple scales were normal for dragon hybrids, yet his skin had a magenta tint to them. Different spots had dark magenta spots that would blend out with the rest of his pale skin. It appeared in some spots like he was melting as well, unable to withstand the constraints and contortions of his own body in a host too small for their own. 

It was then that I realized why I hate the quiet so much.

For it was his calling card.

The next time I met him was before all the wars and the eventual degradation of the server I once called home. A time before the wars, a time before Tommy, I yearn for those days sometimes, when the prison walls are so bare they allow me to daydream for a long forgotten past. I was chopping wood, taking my diamond axe and skewering the wood with the sharp blade before I heard the sounds of parrots. I was in the middle of an oak forest and the closest jungle wasn’t for another two thousand blocks. I followed the noise until a twig broke behind me and I turned and saw him again. The same creature from the duel. His long torso was bigger than that of the trees and his head brushed against the tallest branches of the trees, leaves falling to the ground, turning to stained glass when they touched his body. He had a smile on his face, one of contempt as he looked down upon me. My first instinct would have been to aim for his arms, but something told me that would have ended badly for me, so I didn’t. I found myself asking who he was and he chuckled, in the way molten lava does and responded “As time would describe itself to history >;}” before going back to smiling down at me. I knew there was more to it but when I turned my head to grab a potion to ready myself, he was already gone. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d see him in the reflections of the water, he never did truly.

The last time I saw them was when I was gathering my own supplies in the final battle against them, the heroes of the story. I needed everything I possibly could in order to insure a victory that I would never achieve. I had gotten used to working alone after everyone started leaving each other. I couldn’t trust anyone anymore so what use would the company be anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the figure that I’ve allowed him to slip my mind, and that's when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I drew my blade, turned around, and there he was.

The dark tinted purple of the portal bounced against his skin and the floor from the other side of the room. His shadow, a kaleidoscope of colors even against the blackstone flooring, almost touched my feet. I wasn’t stupid, I tried banning the creature so many times, but he always broke through, always able to make his way back in, and at that point I didn’t see a reason to try anymore and I let him be. 

I regret that action now. 

He stood by the portal, not moving an inch as his body melted together and reformed as our eye contact never separated. It never felt like he was looking at you. It was like he was looking beyond you at something you didn’t even know existed in the first place. He tilted his head to the side slightly and with a smile too big for his face he asked. “Does the character now want to become the playwright <:} ? Discover a level of self identity that you can never contain ;}”? He giggles like broken glass and as he walks behind the portal frame, and leaves me alone in my thoughts as I clench the cold glass bottle in my non dominant hand. 

I don't want to meet them again. I don't want to see the Man in the Spiral Sweater who only appears when I’m alone, yet where do I go? I am contained within a commissioned cage and all I have is the lava to keep me safe. But it won’t keep him out, it never will. If code couldn’t before why would molten rock do the same. I’m biding my time for I know that he has something  he wants to do to me- but what- why- what could I possibly give to him that I haven't destroyed by my own two hands- Why hasn’t the warden shown up- where is everyone else- how do- “Why, hello there Dream :) “