#CW: mild angst

[kawareo]

Bhaalist Unholy Communion

This post has been living in my brain rent free and then it hit me in just the right headspace to turn into a vent thing and made me write poetry for the first time since eight grade anyway enjoy my ramblings under cut

because isn't it fucked up that Durge has no bodily autonomy? That he's nothing (using he/him because im looking at my Durge specifically) without Bhaal because not even his own body is his own but still a part of Bhaal?

And sure it is an honor to be Bhaal's Chosen, but is it really if you never got the chance to choose yourself? Strike, my Durge, was born a Bhaalspawn and grew up in the cult since he was eight. It's all he's ever known, he's worshiped for being a demi-god, he's powerful and on top, and in the end, literally everything he has is only because his Father lets him have it.

The Communion especially shows that, with Strike being still worshiped, but it hurts him, the Bhaalists rip his body apart, use it, consume it, and he needs to think of it as a blessing because how lucky is he, to be the soul that was loaned piece of a god to guard? He'd think of his own body like that.

And it hurts Bhaalists, too! It works both ways! His blood is poisonous and his flesh aches in their throats, but it's a blessing! God of Murder loves his son and his love hurts, and if you love him back, you must let yourself be hurt and know how lucky you are to be allowed to be hurt by Bhaal or his mortal flesh itself!

I'm just very into the whole 'no bodily autonomy' thing that we have going on with Durge, like his father not only can take control of his body via the Urge, but he has Sceleritas to guide him away from anything that could be not by Bhaal's books, Orin and Saverok to be a (although messed up as hell) family to him so he'll never look for another, and to some degree, Bhaal can control Durge's mind...

No wonder he'd run to Gortash in the end. The first one who sees more than a Bhaalspawn when he looks at Strike, more than Bhaal's scion, he sees a person and ngl it's totally Bhaal's fault that Strike ended up like that

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[sleep-deprived-mf]

"𝙽𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎…"

reblogs > likes

[blue-unifox]

What happened to you, Oralech?

[ballinkittymeowmeow45]

Hi funger community.. this took about so long to make and I hate jt, anyway it’s angst

The tag is my user on TikTok, you should follow me there🔥

[olrinarts]

Day 16: Confess Your Sins

Narinder attempts to hide in the Lamb's tent. The Lamb tries to help. Narinder benefits from this. The Lamb? Not so much. (7k, hurt/comfort, can be read as romance or QPR)

[desultory-novice]

Hi! I really love all your content! I'm super excited to see where you take the apologies AU. Anyways, but were the three dark matters in Kirby 64 (Dark Rimuru, Rimura and Rimuro) all like noir at some point? In terms of being something else before being assimilated into the hivemind?

Good question, Anon!

In totally unrelated news... ...meet Raquelle, Adeleine's old babysitter!

-

"Freeze"

Adeleine started out life... a bit trapped in her shell, given the early loss of her parents and also because angsty teen Noir is not the best guardian for a sensitive, budding future artist.

Raquelle is one of those unique people who was able to make an instant connection with her and help bring her out of herself! She was almost entirely a net positive in Adeleine's life.

Her relationship with Noir is more ...complex....

[image behind the jump]

-

...This is not a happy story.

[Apologies AU Masterpost]

[gemini-forest]

Prequal to "Sorry I'm late". Au referring to this post here.

I love this so much! I'll do more when I can and do proper intro but for now have occasional feels and sillies

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 3

Dew feels guilty, Rain screws up.

Rating: M now, to be safe Content: side character death, minor descriptions of violence, flashbacks, peril Words: 2253

Link to all chapters with associated tags: Tumblr | AO3

hi hi @revengeghoulette here's your alert! and @everybodyshusband you seemed very keen haha!

Read below, or on AO3!

Dew stomped along the path surrounding their fields. The warm sun overhead taunted him, it's rays full of promise and life while he felt only cold and empty inside. He knew he'd been too harsh on Rain, deep down, but he'd have to be threatened with banishment to the pit to admit that. Dewdrop refused to allow himself to feel guilty; that was a slippery slope of self-hatred he knew he wouldn't be able to crawl back up from. He knew he could be short-tempered, and he harboured enough resentment of his own that it was bound to overflow into his actions.

Rain seemed to have had things so much easier than him though, it wasn't fair. From the day he arrived he had bonded with the others in a way Dew had struggled to. They would chitter and purr at Rain for the slightest thing, whereas they had remained suspicious of him for ages. Dew was self-aware enough however to realize that he hadn't helped his case by hissing and growling at his packmates for the smallest thing.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt. Rain got a lot of leeway for being young, the others quick to write off his transgressions as ignorance rather than malice, but they forgot Dew was young too. Despite presenting himself as world-wise and experienced, he was closer in age to Rain than he was to any of the rest of his packmates. He'd worked hard to rewrite his time before Aether and Mountain found him, both the most difficult and most sheltered parts, but he couldn't erase their impact.

He continued his mission uphill, to the base of a large oak tree that overlooked their whole farm and surrounding area. Smoke curled from the chimneys of houses in the village in the distance, and a multicoloured patchwork of fields spread out around them. Following the path in the opposite direction, Dew could just make out the dark speck of Rain walking to Farmer Wilkins’. He was stubborn, not taking Dew's constant snipes to heart, Dew had to grudgingly respect that. He watched until Rain turned a corner and was lost from sight.

~~~~~~~

On the walk over, Rain was also enjoying the warm weather as he followed the stream. There was barely a cloud in the sky, the open blue expanse painted with faint white wisps reached as far as the eye could see. Rain could see why his help was needed: the summer had stretched on for several glorious months, and the ground beneath his feet was showing signs of cracking from lack of rainfall. A gentle breeze worked to sweep the cobwebs that still clung tightly to his dream and Dew's comments from his mind.

Arriving at the farm with sweat beginning to bead on his forehead from the heat, Rain was greeted by Farmer Wilkins, sat out on his porch. He was a jovial man, round and ruddy faced, with a vigour for life that defied his advancing age. Rain didn't know him well, but he was a regular down at the village tavern and always had a spare word or smile for Swiss when he passed by.

“Good mornin’, Rain! I didn’t expect to see you so soon, please, sit down. My daughter Marina’s preparing some elderflower cordial against this hot weather. We can wait ‘til you’re rested to begin!”

Rain awkwardly accepted the proffered seat on the porch bench, glad for the shaded spot after the heat of his walk. He heard light footsteps approaching, and looked up to see a young woman emerge from the cottage holding a tray of glasses and a jug of pale liquid.

Her dark hair fluttered around her pretty face in the breeze, and Rain gasped feeling as though he’d been shot in the chest: she was the spitting image of his childhood sweetheart. From the gentle wave in her ebony hair to the asymmetric dimples in her cheeks as she smiled at him in greeting, they could have been twins if not for her obvious humanity.

Noticing Rain’s slack-jawed stare, the farmer chuckled good-naturedly.

“Quite a looker, ain’t she Son! Don’t be getting any funny ideas, she’s engaged to the lad down the road. Childhood sweethearts, they were!”

Rain was struck by the similarities to his own previous life. In another world, his water ghoulette’s father could have spoken of him like that. Instead, Rain had the distinct impression that he had been glad to see Rain leave.

Feeling as though he was watching himself behind glass, Rain accepted a drink with shaky hands. Marina rolled her eyes at his stuttered thanks, but smiled kindly at him as she headed back inside. Luckily, the farmer seemed happy to keep the conversation moving all by himself, leaving Rain to nod in what he hoped were the appropriate places. He sipped his drink in an attempt to replace the moisture in his mouth, which was now as dry as sand. Moving his limbs to raise the glass, Rain felt like he was pulling at the strings of a marionette puppet.

Once Farmer Wilkins had exhausted his supply of one-sided small talk, the pair headed out to the fields, beginning with the one closest behind the house. Here, the corn grew luscious and tall: Mountain did a stellar job encouraging the crop earlier in the season. Rain had tagged along that day, watching as Mountain pressed his palms to the ground to imbue it with his own magical energy.

Now Rain stood in the field without the earth ghoul by his shoulder, feeling alone and detached. He sensed the eager eyes of the farmer watching him, the intense interest making Rain’s knees begin to tremble anxiously. He took a deep breath, and copied what he had done before with Mountain, what he had seen and heard Aether do a hundred times.

Raising his arms out in front of him, palms to the sky, Rain closed his eyes and called out,

“Ancient Spirits! Bless this land, that it be free from drought and pestilence.” he swept his arms around a bit, then turned his palms to the ground. “Gracious Earth, protect these bountiful crops so they may feed us another year.”

Rain winced at how fake it all felt, like he was just going through the motions, and the flowery language rang false in his ears. He cracked his eyes open and saw the farmer – along with half a dozen or so curious farmhands who had downed tools to stare – watching in barely concealed fascination. He squeezed his eyes shut again, waved his arms around a final time in what he hoped was a convincing manner, and went silent as he tried to connect with his element. Rain knew the others could control their power while talking and moving, but he still struggled without devoting his complete concentration to it.

He felt the motion of the water in the stream at the foot of the field, the weight of the droplets in the few scraps of cloud overhead. Flexing his fingers, Rain imagined drawing them in, encouraging them towards the field. He sensed the flowing rivulets of water from the creek begin to channel through the ground, moistening the dry soil around the roots of the crops. The clouds above thickened imperceptibly with the promise of future raindrops.

As Rain felt the water begin to do his bidding, he opened his eyes again to ensure that none of his changes were visible to the small audience of humans. From day one, Aether had instilled the value of plausible deniability into Rain. He insisted it was the most important part of using their elemental connections outside of ghoulish colonies, that they should never give the humans too much evidence of their power and should always leave them with a rational explanation.

As the light flooded his retinas, he saw her standing there: Marina was hovering behind her father's shoulder, watching Rain work with a curious smile and her uncannily familiar dimples. Rain choked on his breath as the sharp stab of longing for his lost future caused him to double over. The pain coursed through his veins and as it did so, Rain felt it cross over with his call to the water. Unbidden, he felt the shock and subsequent rush of emotions transfer into the water he was drawing in, reacting to the ache he had taught himself to supress.

The wisps of feathery clouds he had been coaxing to coalesce now slammed into each other as though pulled by a magnetic force. More water joined from seemingly nowhere, until the clouds hung dark grey and pregnant above the field. Unable to stop the flow of emotionally charged elemental power, Rain watched in horror as the water from the creek rose up, bursting its banks and rushing uphill in an unstoppable tidal wave of water. It reached higher than the stalks of corn, barrelling towards the assembled crowd and flattening the crops indiscriminately. He tried frantically to cut the connection and stop the flow, but with no success.

Rain's panic began to grow, only adding to the ferocity of the water, and the clouds took this as their sign to drop their contents onto those gathered below. The deluge of raindrops hit at the same time as the towering wall of water did, knocking Rain to his feet as he screamed out for the flood of both water and emotions to stop assaulting his body and mind. As the water covered his face, he felt his gills burst free and his glamour dissolve. Rain fought against the water as it dragged him further up the field and back towards the cottage.

To his horror, he saw a flash of dark hair dragged past him. The currents of his own creation slammed the girl against the stone wall of the farmhouse and pinned her there, suspended in a grotesque position, until eventually releasing her to crumple limply into the churning water below. Rain barely had time to process what he was seeing, before he heard a shattering of glass as another farmhand, a boy from the village who could barely have been fifteen, was thrown through the glass roof of a greenhouse. The rain that was still pouring down on them did nothing to dilute the obvious red of the blood spreading through the water.

The tidal wave finally retreated down the field, revealing the destruction left in its wake as it did so. The body of another farmhand emerged from the frothing stream, lifeless without the swirling of the water to animate it. Those remaining staggered to their feet, screaming out in terror. At seeing the carnage and bodies scattered across the field, they turned their anger on Rain. Feeling all the eyes on him, Rain took off running with no heed for where he was heading. Farmer Wilkins let out a howl of anguish as he cradled his daughter's mangled corpse, turning into a roar of anger directed at Rain. The farmhands left alive scrabbled for their abandoned tools scattered by the currents and gave chase, baying for Rain's blood.

As Rain hurled himself down the road, he realised too late that he was heading straight for the centre of town. The noise of the men chasing him attracted the attention of the occupants of the houses he fled past until a small mob was following him, figurative and literal pitchforks raised. Half-crazed, with fear threatening to paralyse him if he paused, Rain kept on running. Lungs burning, he kept pumping his legs as fast as they would go. His feet were now fully unglamoured and the excess webbing between his toes made his shoes feel too small. Every step was agony and yet he knew if he stopped, he was as good as dead.

Rain's mind started to swim, his actions and their consequences catching up with him making him feel dizzy and nauseous. With his tail now caught in his trousers, his balance was almost entirely gone. He felt his foot catch on a loose stone and as he went flying, he knew it was all over. Rain hit the sandy ground hard, all the breath knocked out of him. His eyes frantically swivelled left and right as he scrabbled backwards. Seeing double, Rain stared through the cloud of dust he had kicked up at the crowd bearing down on him. He registered the approaching shovel only as it slammed into the side of his head, stars flashing across his vision before everything went black.

~~~~~~~

From his seat under the tree, Dew was close to dozing off when something caught his attention. He watched in confusion as dark clouds appeared and raced across the sky, before combining together over one field. The air underneath them rippled with falling waves of the torriential rain falling from them. Dewdrop realised a few things simultaneously: firstly, those clouds weren't natural. Dew knew enough about elemental magic to recognise it when he saw it. Secondly, that amount of rain was dangerous and sure to catch the attention of the townsfolk, especially given the recent stretch of warm weather. Lastly, he realised in horror that the clouds were centred directly over the very field Rain had gone to that morning.

Dew leapt to his feet and took off running back to the farmhouse. This was it; all of their worst fears come to life. Their cover was well and truly blown and Dew had to get to the others.

[conkers-thecosy]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 4 / Company

Hey folks! Here's my offering for day four of the lovely @smolestboop's "Bagginshield-tober" prompt list 💛

You can also find these little snippets compiled into one fic on AO3

*Warnings for nightmares and light trauma symptoms.*

~*~*~

It took a lot to break the will of Thorin Oakenshield.

The madness of his grandfather had not broken him. The dragon and destruction of his home had not broken him. The years of wandering and starvation, and leading a grieving and desolate people had not broken him. Not even the death of his younger brother, nor the loss of his father had broken him. 

Immovable. Headstrong. Unyielding.

His mother had often called him pig-headed, though with the love and fondness that came from one who knew it would be the source of great strength for him over the years. His sister had called him muleish, though with more exasperation than their mother ever had. Strong-willed, Balin had told him, kindly, and with great sadness before he had left to head back West with Bilbo.

Bilbo.

Nothing had ever swayed Thorin from a decision he had made, no one could talk him out of a course of action that he had become set upon. He would always plant his feet and stand firm, determined and unwavering in the face of all things… save for one small Hobbit.

“No… no, please… don’t…”

Sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and hands in his hair, Thorin could only listen to the quiet cries of his dearest friend and greatest love from the room next door. It was agony to feel so useless, to be so close, and yet unable to do anything. He had promised himself he would give Bilbo the space he needed to deal with his trauma, knowing full well it had come at Thorin’s own hands in the first place. He shook with the silent desperation of wanting to make this right, of needing to offer comfort, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

It might even make things worse, he tried to reason with himself, as another small whimper sliced through his already broken heart. For Bilbo to dream so fearfully of what had passed between them on top of the ramparts, Thorin deep in his madness, twisted by the lure of the Arkenstone. It would be cruel for him to awaken to the face of his aggressor, who so haunted his nights. He would wake soon, anyway. He always woke himself, then settled fairly quickly afterwards. All Thorin had to do was wait…

“Thorin!”

At the terrified cry of his own name, he could not help himself. He was on his feet and through Bilbo’s door before he even registered what he had done, and the Hobbit was awake, his eyes wide and fearful and hurt, and Thorin knew he had made a mistake, but he had been seen now, he was here, and what was he to do…? 

“Thorin,” Bilbo said again, looking right at him with the fear melting away to be replaced by something akin to relief. His hair was a mess, sticking out wildly in all directions, his sheets rucked up, and one of his pillows had fallen to the floor beside his bed from where he had been shifting about so restlessly. Thorin saw all this, but it was eclipsed by Bilbo reaching out a small, shaking hand to him, and speaking with a tremor in his voice. “Please?”

Again, Thorin moved on impulse, unable to ignore such a plea. He walked quickly to Bilbo’s bedside and took the outstretched hand as gently as he could. Bilbo grasped him with both hands then, and pressed his knuckles to his forehead in an oddly reverent manner. 

“You’re real,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re alive, and you’re here.”

“You… you feared me dead?”

Bilbo didn’t look at him, didn’t move even a muscle save from the trembling of his small frame. “I dream of it all the time. That I was too late to warn you on Ravenhill, that I stayed to argue with Gandalf instead of immediately coming to find you. I dream that… that Fili and Kili… that they died horrifically and senselessly, and that you… you were… on the ice, bleeding to death, and I could do nothing but hold your hand and watch. It… it feels so real, Thorin. I am so afraid that I will wake and it will all be real, and you won’t be here.”

Thorin could hardly believe what he was hearing, even as the words came tumbling out of the still shaking Hobbit like a shameful confession. He knelt, very slowly so as not to startle Bilbo, clasping his other, much larger hand over the two small ones still holding onto him tightly, as if afraid he would vanish otherwise. 

He wanted to ask if Bilbo truly meant what he said, if it was not Thorin’s rage and threats at the gates that caused him to cry out in the darkness with fear, but he already knew the answer. Bilbo was not a liar, and even if he stretched the truth occasionally, there was no way even his quick tongue could have fabricated such sorrow and heartbreak in such a manner. It was so earnest and true, there could be no questioning the sincerity of his words.

All this time Thorin had stayed away, thinking his presence would only make things worse, when in fact proof of his life and continued existence was what would bring the Hobbit comfort most. He felt like a prize fool for not asking, simply asking, too stuck in his own guilt to offer what aid he could. 

“I could stay, if you would like?” he offered quietly, then shrank back a little as Bilbo looked up in surprise. “Only if you would like me to. I could fetch a chair and sit by the bed until you fall asleep?”

“Oh,” said Bilbo, still wide eyed, though his face a little darker from the blush that would be staining his cheeks. “Well, I would feel terrible making you sit up so that I might rest…”

“We both know I’m not sleeping, anyway,” Thorin brushed this concern aside with a wry smile, immediately feeling better for acknowledging their shared troubles. “If you would like my company, I would be more than willing to stay.” 

Bilbo fidgeted a little, then released Thorin’s hands slowly. For a moment the dwarf thought he was about to be told no, that he had misread the situation after all, and was perhaps over-stepping some kind of personal boundaries, until Bilbo scooted across the bed and patted the mattress beside himself in invitation. 

“I’ll not have you in a chair all night, but perhaps we might both sleep a little better for some company?”

It took a lot to break the will of Thorin Oakenshield, but in this instance, he found no will to be broken - only a relieved acceptance, as he passed the night beside the one he loved, and they both found a little peace.

[wisteriasymphony]

"ALYA! ALYA! You'll never guess what just happened!"

"What— Was there another akuma alert? Do you need my help?"

"No!" Marinette giggled, clutching onto her flip phone. "My favorite author. On AgresteAdventures. Posted again!"

Alya set down her pendant, feeling like an idiot for immediately scrambling to action. She could already picture Marinette lying on her bed with her laptop—the one covered in cute strawberry stickers and photographs of Adrien. Resigning herself, Alya sat back down at her desk.

"Okay," she muttered. "What's it about?"

Marinette let out a few more mischievous giggles, pressing the phone up close to her face to whisper into Alya's ear. "It's by AdriDaddyLovesYou... so it's a little, uhm.. on the dirty side~"

"...Yeah," Alya grumbled back. "I figured."

Marinette could barely contain her glee, kicking her feet as she scrolled through the webpage, looking over the explosion of comments. "You read the Potterfic I shared with you from AdriDaddy, right? The one where Adrien's Draco Malfoy?"

Alya remembered seeing in the description of that fic that it was written back when Adrien was 16. "You know, I read it and I don't think it was for me," she lied—Alya hadn't read it at all past the posting date. "Have you ever considered..."

"Gosh, you're right, I should ask him what he thinks!" Marinette squealed. "I bet I could read all of them to him, and he'd be like 'That's so hot, Marinette', and then I'd be like 'I know, right', and then he'd be like 'We should do that, babygirl', and then I'd be like—" She let out another long high-pitched squeal, kicking her feet as she rolled across her bed. "And it'd be perfect!"

Alya considered hanging up. But that wasn't what friends did to each other, unfortunately. Nor employees to their buggy employer.

---

"Well, well, well, would you look at that," Plagg drawled, "Someone posted again on your little fic forum."

Adrien's heart sank. He went over to his computer, where Plagg was juggling using the mouse with his hands and keyboard with his feet. "Why are you even searching that up, Plagg? You know how I feel about that."

"Uh, cause it's funny?" the cat smirked. "They get so much stuff wrong about you. Did you know half of them think you're 6'3"? They get into flame wars over that shit."

"Look, I don't- I don't want to give attention to it. My dad already enables it enough." Adrien swatted his kwami off the keyboard, taking control of the computer to click off the forum. "I just need to forget it exis—"

18-01-09 18:27

AdriDaddyLovesYou Posted: My Little Morning Star

Hello birdies~ AdriDaddy here ;) I was watching old clips of Emilie interviews and this really cute nickname stuck out to me! I thought about what it'd be like if our sexy little Prince Charming ever kept that name with him... Get your pitchers and sugar, cause we got lotsa lemon!!!

That was what his mom used when... He'd... How did they find that? Why would they look for that?

Adrien turned off his computer entirely. Trembling hands went over his mouth, for fear that the growing nausea would soon leak out between his teeth and spill over his desk.

"I... I don't care if you.. I-if you look up that shit about me, Plagg," he said. "Just please... don't let me know."

[simstraffikcone]

I'm a simple person, I see @evignonita do a painting style piece. I want to as well.

I don't have a painting reference, I'm afraid. I just had a clear vision of how this scene goes in my little writing piece. I've been struggling to get it out of my system for an age, but evignonita's piece finally made me realise the style was off.

Version with mild blood underneath the cut

[green-fifteen]

Day 4: Harry Du Bois Gets a Clue

Prompt: Learn Fandom: Disco Elysium Pairing: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi Word count: 796 Summary: YOU - Wait, you have a boyfriend? read on AO3 instead

for @fluffyfebruary

DESK OF HARRIER DU BOIS - Spilled coffee streams down the side of your desk, drips from paperwork that is due to be processed in only a few hours. The papers are fully soaked now, however. Along with your badge and the end of your tie.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - There is someone standing behind you, watching the coffee spread over the floor.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Oh, nice. I was thinking your workstation was getting too neat. Only right that a fucking mess gets to wallow in his own disaster."

YOU - "You know what? This is the end for me."

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Don't be an idiot. If you were going to die, you would have done it already."

YOU - "No, I really think this time is the one. Each day only brings new torment."

VOLITION - It does feel bad, but you might be exaggerating. You're already thinking about where you're going to find a mop and a cloth to clean this mess.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "No, absolutely. You're right. Just end it, Dick Mullen! It's not like your boyfriend would have anything to say about it-- then again I wouldn't put it past you to forget that when you take the shot."

LOGIC [Easy: Failure] - Boyfriend?

YOU - "Boyfriend?"

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "I am not doing this with you, you prick. Fuck off." He strides away.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - Since you've been back from Martinaise in one piece (minus some core memories), you might have laid it on kind of thick one or two times. Things like 'Jean, help me file these reports, I don't know where anything is because I have amnesia.' and 'Jules, can you call Requisitions for me, I don't know the number because I have amnesia." You suspect, no-- you know your amnesia is getting on everyone's nerves.

EMPATHY - He's a little worried about you, anyway. That's probably why he mentioned your boyfriend.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Failure]- Wait a damn minute. Back to the boyfriend thing. Did you forget about him? Was he swept away in the flood of booze and amphetamines, along with everything else? You're getting a sick feeling in your stomach.

PERCEPTION - At that very moment, you see your partner. He just walked in from the snow, his hat peppered with snowflakes. He makes eye contact.

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] - Your stupid heart beats a little off tempo.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success]- Kim always knows what to do. Ask Kim about this.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant comes closer, unwinding his long scarf and removing his hat. He gives you a small smile as he sits down across from you.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Good morning, detective."

YOU - "Good morning."

INLAND EMPIRE - You shouldn't rush into questioning him. Just be friendly, first.

YOU - "So, Jean said I have a boyfriend."

KIM KITSURAGI - "He did?" One eyebrow is lifted high on his face.

YOU - "I spilled my coffee all over my desk, that's why he brought it up."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay," he says, sounding unsure but still smiling at you. "I don't mind. I know we haven't talked about it precisely and 'boyfriend' is perhaps a tad puéril… but it's good enough for most people in relationships."

YOU - You have no idea what he's talking about.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Don't you? Don't you feel that, champ?

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - Kim is looking at you with humor, seeming to expect you to take your time. Suddenly, it's very clear: Kim Kitsuragi is your boyfriend.

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY [Medium: Success]- YEAH! YES! Holy shit, do you know what this means? Boyfriends make out, big dog! They do more than that. They touch each other, Harry. Tell Kim you want to touch him, right now. Maybe you can convince him to do it on your desk.

VOLITION - Do not do that. You're at work, don't embarrass yourself.

LOGIC - Your desk is covered in coffee.

DRAMA - But what if he said yes, my lord? Think of the spectacle-- the other officers would know then, wouldn't they? They would all know that Kim Kitsuragi belongs to you.

YOU - "Gah."

KIM KITSURAGI - He looks on the verge of laughter. His eyes are folded up in mirth behind his glasses.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Come over again tonight. I'm cooking."

ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY [Godly: Success]- Ask if you should bring your pajamas.

YOU - "Should I bring my pajamas?"

KIM KITSURAGI - He can't resist chuckling softly at the look on your face.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - You're certain you know the face you're making. It's a terribly fond one, with a heavy flavor of awe. You look like someone just handed you a warm puppy.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I would like that."

[twistmusings]

hi!! your floyd and riddle fic from a while ago was so cute :)) the banter over the tart? floyd's patience and their knowledge of each other's quirks????? Uncle trey and azul? Lmfao YES PLEASE that's so sweet😭😭 any gen relationship headcannons for these two? maybe how they got together in the first place, or how the other boys of their dorm reacted? (lmaooo imagine that) Congrats on the move! :)

Thank you so much! I have a really soft spot for a lot of twst ships so it's always a pleasure when I get to indulge and write for them a little bit! And thank you so much for the well wishes about the move!!

Just as a note, this one got kind of long and is largely a breakdown of how the two of them ended up dating.

General Relationship Headcanons - Floyd and Riddle

CW: Canon x Canon shipping (obvs), enemies to lovers but also idiots to lovers (? Its complicated), learning to communicate and some very touch and go parts, Trey Clover's prolonged migraine, Azul and Jade's meddling.

As is mentioned in canon, Riddle and Floyd first met during their orientation. Floyd was kicking up a fuss and well... Riddle kicked his ass. There was no two ways about it, he threw Floyd around like he was a bag of grapes before collaring him and he was pretty thoroughly outmatched by his magic.

Riddle unknowingly created a torment of his own making that day. See, Floyd has always really admired strength and, fortunately or unfortunately, Floyd was fascinated by him. He was so small and regal looking that Floyd would have never guessed that he was capable of magic that strong. He wants to see more-- wants to learn what makes Riddle tick and how he got so strong.

That means, while Riddle sees Floyd's pestering in a negative light (which is 100% valid, Floyd is really irritating and intentionally pisses him off) Floyd never has. His teasing and rough play are pretty common types of affection under the sea. Floyd has been just as abrasive toward Azul and Jade in the past, they just know better than to rise to meet his energy.

However, Riddle's reactiveness... feeds into Floyd's bad behavior. He becomes Goldfishie entirely because when Floyd says it, Riddle gives him attention, even if it's negative attention. He doesn't really examine his own emotions beyond that, he just knows that he really likes when his Goldfishie friend pays attention to him.

Now, as for how they got together... it was a very complex sort of domino effect, and had things not fallen into place the way they did, Riddle likely wouldn't have ended up dating Floyd.

So, the first thing that really occurred was that Floyd developed a crush on Riddle..... that he wasn't aware about. Floyd has such a hard time untangling his own emotions that sometimes things slip under the radar. He's always been this way about crushes, and because of it, he tends to be the last person to notice it. Instead, usually the first person to catch on is Jade, and then shortly after him, Azul.

It doesn't take much for Jade to realize it-- he recognizes the signs as soon as Floyd starts going out of his way to seek out Riddle. That's always the first, then followed by him noticing Floyd talking about his admiration for Riddle unprompted shortly after. He didn't realize it was serious though, until Floyd would start to slip up and call him Riddle. Just Riddle. While it wasn't even significant enough for it to be something Riddle noticed, Jade caught it immediately. Fish pun names were common, but actually sticking it through to learn and use someone's given name was less so.

Jade picked up on it right around their sophomore year, and he would take a few occasions to get a temperature read on how Riddle was feeling about his brother. He certainly was probing when he asked Riddle if he actually missed being teased by Floyd.

Needless to say, Jade's impression of Riddle's feelings... aren't hopeful. He can tell that Riddle really, truly resents him for the teasing and how volatile his mood is. He doesn't believe he will be heard out if he's the one to bring it up to Riddle, either, as he knows Riddle already sees him in a similar light as he does Floyd so he defers to Azul and asks him to assist in the situation.

Azul asks for a private meeting with Riddle, and when Riddle arrives he really wastes no time in laying things out as they were from his perspective: Floyd had developed feelings for Riddle and despite how much of a pest he could be, Azul wanted to request that Riddle go easy on him when he let him down.

Riddle was baffled. He can already feel the heat rising to his face as he feels his anger starting to flare. How dare Azul ask to meet him privately for this foolishness! It was such a waste of time to play these silly little games, and Riddle suddenly felt stupid for assuming that Azul would know better than to play these kind of jokes simply on the merits of being another housewarden.

"Really, Azul, this isn't funny." His expression is sour, and he stands smoothing his uniform jacket. Azul's eyes widen a fraction as he looks at him, eyebrows giving away his surprise. "I had expected better of you. I'm sure you think this is hilarious, but I never would have thought that you would stoop so low as to make a joke that I could see Floyd pulling."

He turns on his heels, and only makes it so far as the door when he hears the scrambling of Azul behind him as he stands from his desk.

"Riddle, hold on. This isn't a joke." Riddle freezes, hand lingering on the doorknob. He wants to be angry at himself for thinking that Azul sounds genuine. This is surely an elaborate scheme of some kind, but in spite of himself he turns enough to level Azul with a glare.

Except Azul looks sincere. Perhaps even worried-- like he's the one who couldn't believe this was a joke. Was it a joke? Riddle's suddenly unsure-- Azul didn't usually get roped into helping Jade and Floyd in their impulsive ideas.

"I'm being serious. I'm fairly certain that Floyd... has feelings for you." Azul clears his throat, adjusting his glasses with a careful coolness that seems to be an attempt to cover his prior unveiled concern. "I know that he has been nothing but irritating to you, and that you don't owe him any kindness after the amount of pestering he's done... however, dorm leader to dorm leader, I would like to request that you don't reject him too... intensely."

There's something there-- Riddle can tell. A genuine concern of some kind, even if he can't quite see what exactly for. He gives Azul a skeptical look, knowing it was unlikely for him to play all of his cards at once, though. There has to be something else-- he knows Azul well enough to know that much.

"Forgive me if I'm having a hard time believing that Floyd has a crush on me, Azul." He deadpans, frowning.

Azul mirrors the frown, dragging a hand down his face.

"Perhaps... there's been a misunderstanding of sorts. I know Floyd, and I have known him for years. I realize how counterintuitive this sounds, but the name calling and the encouraging you to play tag with him by taking your things, that's... that's his love language."

"That's his what?"

"Floyd isn't great at understanding his own emotions, let alone anyone else's. I'm afraid if you don't make your intentions incredibly, forcefully clear for him it can sometimes go over his head. He likely thinks that you're just as excited to play along with his games as he is."

"So his idea of flirting with me is to tease me and consistently disrespect me?" Riddle's lips pull into a thin, irritated line. He's starting to tip back in the direction that this is some kind of long-winded, cruel prank.

"Teasing, yes, but I'm afraid I can't say I agree on the disrespect front."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. Floyd respects you highly, even if he's not very adept at showing it."

Riddle can't help but to scoff. Azul rolls his own eyes, holding up his hand and beginning to count.

"Let's see, he talks about how you 'picked the biggest magic textbook off the shelf with tons of hard words' to study and then took a few minutes to explain it to him, how you're 'super dedicated and responsible for your dorm leader stuff', how 'Goldfishie broke up a fight with ten people like it was nothing', how 'Goldfishie threw him around like he weighed nothing with his magic and he wants to learn that too', how you're 'the only one around here who isn't afraid to stand up' to him, how--"

As the list grows longer, Riddle can feel himself growing red again, though this time he's pretty sure it's not from anger. Somehow despite the fact that Azul is surely paraphrasing, it's very easy to hear Floyd's voice saying these things. Hell, Riddle had often been too annoyed to realize it at the time, but he had said a lot of similar things to him directly.

"I see." Is all that Riddle can manage to think up to respond with. "You've certainly given me plenty to think about. Now... if you'll excuse me."

Riddle opens the door and slips out, and Azul stands a little dumbfounded for a moment. What kind of response was that??

"Riddle?" Azul calls after him, following. However, he finds the hallway empty when he walks out. "Riddle!"

But Riddle has already gone, and Azul can only hope that he hadn't just accidentally endorsed Floyd's misery for however long it took him to overcome the hump of realizing his Goldfishie didn't like him in the same way that Floyd liked him.

Riddle spends a while flipping back and forth between whether he thinks that Azul must be using this as some sort of plot and whether he genuinely believes that Floyd has feelings for him. He's more inclined to believe that Floyd genuinely has feelings for him, but he can't be sure if that's just him wanting to give Azul the benefit of the doubt that he wouldn't toy with his own feelings. (He wouldn't, but this is not about that.)

It was... strained on Riddle's part. He is pretty emotionally constipated in his own right, and him reexamining and recontextualizing the past interactions he has had with Floyd through the realization that he was largely just trying to instigate play with him sort of changes his feelings toward them. Of course, he still really, really dislikes the teasing and intentional irritation, but, as he realizes, it might be partially his own fault. He realizes that while Floyd gets on his nerves, he has never continued to do something after Riddle outright asked him not to do it or was explicitly clear that he didn't want him to do it.

Eventually he realizes that what Azul said made an unfortunate amount of sense, and that perhaps his irritation with Floyd was a matter of learning how to communicate with him instead of the both of them just being incompatible as people.

Now a big key to how the next step played out was that Riddle was aware of Floyd's feelings, but Floyd had no idea of his own feelings. Of course he did have romantic feelings toward Riddle, but he never clocked that he was catching feelings.

The situation ended up being that Floyd was irritating Riddle, as he did often, but it went differently than it usually did. To start with, Riddle was the one who got physical with him first-- he used his magic to throw him once again. He had been pushed to his absolute limit and was finding it hard to sleep because the thought of Floyd having a crush on him had been eating him. It definitely doesn't help that Riddle's starting to notice his own signs of attraction. Floyd was a little shocked, because to him he hadn't done anything to warrant it and he wanted Riddle to apologize, but before he could even open his mouth to say as such, Riddle was already starting to talk right over him.

"You are insufferable." Riddle says it, and it makes something in Floyd's chest tighten up when he does. His eyes widen a little, and he's starting to wonder what he did differently today to warrant that severe look in Riddle's eyes.

"Goldfishie?"

"Shut up and listen." Floyd would normally never let anyone talk to him like that, but something in Riddle's tone makes him actually shut his mouth. It feels serious. He watches, waiting for Riddle to continue. "I really hate it when you do this. Make me chase you around by stealing my things. And I hate it when you seek me out just to interrupt what I'm trying to do. I want you to knock it off."

There's no room for argument in his tone. So Floyd doesn't. Really, he wishes Riddle had said as much sooner, because this isn't something fresh and he can tell. And Riddle isn't even going red in the face-- this is a cold anger. Floyd has never seen anything like it and it's terrifying.

"Goldfishie...?" His voice is uncomfortably unsure.

"And stop calling me that. I hate that nickname." His tone is measured, and he steps forward, further into Floyd's space so that he has to look up at him. Floyd's stomach flips, and he doesn't know why. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." Floyd swallows around his heart in his throat. Riddle looks at him, and he realizes he's waiting on Floyd to speak his peace. He isn't sure what to say, so he settles on the words he first finds. "I didn't mean to make you actually mad, Riddle."

And something about Floyd saying his actual name makes Riddle snap. All of his composure is thrown right out of the window, and in spite of the anger and confusion he is feeling, he hauls Floyd up by the collar and kisses him soundly.

And Floyd is stunned. His thoughts become loud and chaotic in an instant-- Why was Riddle kissing him? Hadn't he just told him he hated everything he did? What had made him even think of kissing him? And why did it feel so good?

He doesn't have enough time to respond, body stiff and feeling heavy. He feels a bit like he's going to die with how much his chest feels like it wants to burst, and his stomach can't decide which way is up. And as if that all wasn't bad enough, Floyd can feel this strange hot, burning feeling in his face that's making his cheeks hurt. Riddle pulls back from the kiss, and it's all Floyd can do to just stare at him for several seconds.

And then instinct kicks in. Floyd's head is empty of thoughts as he scrambles to his feet, and he turns, and he flees. Eels are cowards, after all.

Riddle is pretty shocked at himself, too. He isn't sure what came over him-- he'd just felt kind of overwhelmed by the urge to just kiss him in the moment when to any reasonable person that should have been the last thing on his mind. Not to mention that it was a rather public venue where their little spat (?) had taken place, so the school was abuzz with the rumor within the hour.

"So... clearly you have feelings for him as well, then."

He's greeted by Trey a couple of hours later when he more-or-less breaks into his room with a "You did WHAT!?" It takes some explaining, but Trey gets a quick grasp on the situation and immediately lets out the biggest sigh and starts feeling a headache coming on.

"Huh?!" Riddle spits, flushing and looking a little offended. Trey does his best not to level him with his 'are you fucking serious' look, but he must not be entirely successful because Riddle seems to wince a little.

"Riddle, you kissed him. Even if it was on impulse you were having some kind of feelings."

"... I conceed that much."

"So, you probably still have some kind of feelings toward him. What are they?"

"... I feel like I shouldn't answer that on the grounds that you will ask me what's wrong with me, again."

Oh yeah, that headache was really coming on.

"First, I didn't ask what was wrong with you, I asked what you did. Second, I'm doing this to try and help you."

It takes a long conversation, but Riddle eventually lands on the fact that he does have some interest in Floyd. He suspects it might be romantic, but he can't put his finger on it, and doesn't think he would feasibly be able to unless he were to actually sit and be in Floyd's presence voluntarily for a while.

Jade and Azul assumed that Riddle had just rejected Floyd, and that's why he'd been in his room and moping for the last several hours. It takes Trey reaching out to them to talk about what happened for them to realize that it hadn't gone exactly how they had thought it had, and their response was more or less the same as Trey. "What did you DO!?"

Riddle learns from the two of them that Floyd likely needs the time to come to peace with his own feelings on his own time, and that he will need space to do that, so he stays back for the time being.

Meanwhile, Floyd is mulling over the entire scenario and doing his own consideration of their past conversations and realizing that yeah, he'd definitely kind of had a massive crush on Riddle without even knowing he had and that's why he'd gotten so flustered and unsettled when Riddle had kissed him out of nowhere. Well, that and because it had immediately been preceded by a verbal and physical lashing.

As much as I wish it was more interesting, the honest reaction of the people around them in both dorms was... shock. They would never have expected their typically antagonistic relationship to shake out like that, nor did they expect Floyd nor Riddle to be hit so hard by what happened. The only slightly interesting reaction would have been Ace who was likely prepared to tease the both of them until Trey made a few not-so-thinly veiled threats to his wellbeing if he did.

Riddle lets Floyd be the one to make the next move-- after all he'd kind of made a jackass out of himself by jerking Floyd in several different directions with that kiss. And eventually, Floyd does reach out again, though not in his typical fashion-- he sends a letter via Jade asking to meet.

It's definitely awkward when they meet up in person again, and Floyd seems very low and sober. Truthfully, he doesn't want to be having this conversation because he knows it's probably not going to end in a good way, but he also knows that he's probably going to just remain in his rut unless he does. Plus it was getting very annoying having Jade and Azul constantly on his back to do something.

They both end up apologizing to each other. Riddle for being so harsh and then just kissing him out of the blue, and Floyd for not keying into the fact that he was getting genuinely irritated with him. Floyd explains that he's really not good at picking up on subtle cues and he often needs to be told things directly or he will miss them entirely.

"One other thing..." Riddle huffs, glancing away from Floyd. "I suppose if you must, you may still call me goldfish. Just... try not to refer to me exclusively as that."

Floyd laughs-- not the normal bright, manic laughter Riddle usually hears from him. This is a more subdued contentment, and when he looks at him, Riddle notices the way that the corners of Floyd's eyes wrinkle a bit.

"Why did you change your mind on that?"

"Against my better judgements... it seems to me that it's a kind of endearment."

"Nah, I was definitely teasing you when I said it, but whatever you'd like, Goldfishie~." Floyd sing-songs.

Riddle feels stupid for it, considering what had ended them up in this situation in the first place, but he feels overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him again. He tamps it down rather aggressively, not wanting to damage whatever tentative thing they were working on here. Apparently he's not subtle enough, because in the instant he glances at Floyd's lips and back, the other is grinning toothily.

"You didn't learn your lesson the first time, did you?" Floyd challenges. Riddle can't quite place if it's intentional flirting or not-- feels like it must be.

"Perhaps you'll have to teach me again." The words leave Riddle's mouth before he can stop himself long enough to process what he's said. Then, rather flustered, he adds: "I've always found it most helpful to review the material a few times."

Floyd's eyebrows quirk upward toward his hairline, but he doesn't make to move at all. Ah, right, like they'd discussed-- he was trying to be better about their boundaries. Riddle sighed, despite this being something he specifically asked for.

"Floyd?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me, you oaf."

"Sure thing, Goldfishie~!"

[witch-sweets]

Experimenting with color palettes

[desultory-novice]

"What did you say it was made with?"

Mentioning my love of "Dedede is from the New World theory" this afternoon means it's time to re-upload this. (Plus, it'll be relevant.)

You might have noticed King Dedede and Noir/DMS have the same scarf. You might also have noticed that Apologies AU Lab Discovera does some very questionable things. Like...

...making these ugly scarves! It was not their best marketing decision.

...In a lot of ways.

No penguins were harmed in... Not EVERY penguin was harmed in the making of these scarves.

No, they are not made of penguin flesh. They are probably made of penguin down from one of Lab Discovera's earliest show animals.

But as audiences found themselves more attracted to the idea of seeing the alien than some of the more "mundane" creatures its miraculous technology had helped create, the all-climate, all-weather capable blue penguins were ultimately shelved as a mainline attraction and the specimens were offered up to a variety of departments to do whatever testing they wanted with them...

Some were even used in dimensional rift testing.

...One may have even survived.

[Apologies AU Masterpost]