#I can never say no to eldritch nonsense

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Thank you! I am pleased by this! Sanguinius is my favourite primarch and I have many thoughts about him. He is so very weird in the way that he's the perfect handsomest boy, but like it's explicably stated his beauty isn't that of a human, and he has his flaws like his very deep insecurities over being a mutant, as well as having the duality of being very kind and sweet, yet possessing a wrath and hunger that would make Khorne laugh nervously I like leaning into his imperfections as I'm fairly certain how he acts around others isn't actually who he is as a person (to a degree), he's just deeply insecure and fears rejection. I should also mention that as I implied in my previous post, that I imagine Sanguinius' eggs to have a metal coating to them, often being reddish in hue due to the iron oxidizing and blending in perfectly with the sands of Baal. The iron also has the added benefit of making them quite resilient to the creatures of Baal that might eat these eggs. Though because they're made of metal, Sanguinius has the inexplicable instinct to seek out shady areas to nest. This is because if left out in the Baalite sun, the eggs will quite literally cook inside their shells due to their metal coating. As for the rest.... Tzeentch is proud and very entertained, he keeps coming back because he doesn't think he'll ever get something this good again. Corvus, is at first absolutely horrified when he learns he can lay eggs. However he finds that Like Sanguinius, they are edible. He also learns that spoiled eggs make excellent instruments of biological warfare. Lorgar lives in fear, Konrad looks upon Corvus and smiles from beyond the veil. It is a glorious sight. The Word Bearers have never known peace since Corvus figured it out. Once Lorgar had one cracked over his head. The stench was something straight of out Nurgle's domain because Corvus' eggs when spoiled are suspiciously malodorous. Nurgle admits to nothing, but there is a distinct aura of pride when it's mentioned. Also Corvus eggs are pretty tasty and they look like little galaxies with them being black and speckled white and blue. They're very pretty which has had the Word bearers collecting the shells because again; pretty. Magnus is...so very concerned with his eggs, though I imagine the shells of them are very beautiful. Perhaps they look like opals, shifting colours and patterns, ever changing and giving off a soft ethereal glow. The issue with Magnus is that some of them get randomly fertilized despite Magnus not having sex with anyone, and he ends up with kids because Tzeentch thought it'd be funny as fuck. So far this has happened four times, and he now has 12 sons and daughters because he lays three at a time, and when it happens the entire clutch is fertilized. The unfertilized ones are great for making offering bowls and other such things, though mostly they end up taking the place of candles in some instances because it appears to work better. The shells can be crushed into a powder and used as a mild hallucinogenic perfect for helping to induce visions and the like. The eggs also smell wonderful, oft like the sea or sand, some say it smells of Prospero before it's destruction. The egg itself is strange for it has a very bright purple yolk that seems to glow, and the whites are strangely black. Only one brave soul attempted to eat it, and he's now a highly intelligent cheese wheel. No one has since tried it-

... Do you guys think fem/transmasc Sanguinius lays eggs...?

They're unfertilized, unless the Angel has been fooling around with a certain someone who's name may or may not start with a letter H. In that case Sanguinius makes sure that the eggs aren't actually, ya know, babies. Which, thankfully, they're not.

Now, the question is... Are the eggs edible? On one hand, they are not bird eggs, but eggs that come from a mutated demigod warrior. Doesn't exactly sound like a safe source of food. But if the eggs are edible, I would imagine they would have special qualities, like cure some of the mild diseases, make you stronger, faster, smarter.

Imagine being a Blood Angel, you recently had a very exhausting battle, where you sustained some minor injuries. Then, out of nowhere, someone taps your shoulder and when you turn around to see who it is... Turns out, it's your very fucking Primarch, holding a large egg and smiling at you. "My dear son/daughter, I noticed you're looking very gloom after the recent battle. I have noted your bravery and ferocity in battle and for that, I think you deserve a reward. How does an omelette sound? :D"

And before you know it, you're eating an omelette made from an egg that has been inside your gene-father/gene-mother. Gross.

[colbyheartland]

Okay so this is just crack but I couldn’t stop thinking about that post that points out Dream likes to make himself AT LEAST one to two inches taller than people he’s with except Lucien. (Also what a petty petty power move it’s so funny I can never unknow this. Why is he Like That)

What if he starts doing that with Hob after they get together. Just subtly and slowly shrinking himself until he’s like an inch shorter. But he does it slowly because he doesn’t want Hob to question him about it. Hob either assumes it’s Dreams eldritch nonsense or notices immediately because of all the changes Dream has ever made to his outfit, hair, ect his height has never changed. Hob decides not to say anything as Dreams forehead is now always within reach for kisses.

[paradisepoisoned]

Okay I need to ask... what the hell is 💊💒💊The Ecstasy of our Virgin Mother Saint Mandy 💊💒💊 ???

*Rafiki voice* : It is time.

*CUE VIOLENT KAZOO MUSIC*

The Ecstasy of Our Virgin Mother Saint Mandy is my Eldritch baby, a grotesque abomination, and my first attempt at writing anything seriously. I will not say much as I’m hoping to post it by the end of November, but I will say It's a Mello/Near fanfic analyzing their relationship from wammy's till Kira's death. I will also say that if you plan to read it, prepare to be abandoned and forsaken by God just as these orphans have.

Enjoy the opening under the cut and don't be shy lemme know what you think even if you hate it I guess lolll💒

As so the old proverb goes…

“For want of a nail the shoe was lost.

For want of the shoe the horse was lost.

For want of a horse the rider was lost.

For want of a rider the message was lost.

For want of a message the battle was lost.

For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want of a nail.”

_________________________________________

Proverbially enough, all his life, Near has wanted for nothing. It's not that he’s never been hungry or in need but rather he is simply content without. Near can do without. Hunger is a need, it's biological; but want— want is a desire, a want is a wish and wishes to Near are nothing but storybook nonsense and consequently a waste of time.

Wanting is a choice, a choice that unavoidably leads to demise. Want breeds attachment, attachment breeds love and with love comes blindness,weakness, and vulnerability. All things Near would happily rather choose to live without. 

If wanting is a choice and if Near ever had a choice in anything at all, Near would—

Well, …quite frankly, Near would rather choose to starve and die.

But Near never had a choice; —in any of this. Which is fine because Near knows how to do without.

Near can do without choices. He can do without hobbies and interests. He can do without having dreams or true aspirations. Near can do without having friends or family. He can do without comforting conversations and the warmth of someone’s company. He can do without knowing what his mother’s embrace would feel like, without knowing what they might have had in common, —without knowing if she ever loved him. 

Near can do without love. Near doesnt want love. He doesn't want any of these things because none of these things make a good detective and Near is a rational person and there is no rationality in wanting what you can’t have. 

It’s sound enough logic Near thinks, it's just unfortunate that sound logic does nothing to combat the irony of the number one person on top of the ‘Things Near Can Never Have’ list, was blessed with the God given hands of a virtuoso that liked to thrum and pluck the delicate, nylon, thin, threaded cords holding together all the seraphim-disguised boy’s principles of logic and sanity.

 Mello never needed the permission of logic. Mello has never had a problem doing whatever he wants and while it's always elusive what the blonde boy really wants, the sadistic musician nonetheless plays him like a theremin. Without even touching him he seizes control of the humming neurons inside the young orphan’s brain, commanding full attention just being in the room and sends Near’s brain humming. conducting and coercing out Philharmonic Orchestra grade symphonies that drown out all sound of rational thought. 

But what’s far worse however is when those sunlight kissed hands do touch his moonlight cursed body, they play him as steady, knowing, fingers on harp strings do. He plays him patiently and determined, until the poisoning devotion in every bite and bruise and kiss has Near gasping and writhing, singing out of key like a small wounded animal in the woods, bleeding to death in the middle of the night. 

He plays him until his heartbeat is a loud ticking metronome, until he forgets he’s breathing on his own. He plays with him until all forty seven harp strings of Near’s self restraint snap from the tension. He plays with him until he breaks. 

If he was truly a rational person he would push Mello away. He would stop. He should stop. He needs to stop…

He feebly clutches at the rosary around the older boy’s neck out of instinct and pulls him down closer for another desperate kiss instead. Near quietly reminds himself he wants for nothing.

[monsoon-of-art]

As promised, here is my Long Fiction piece with my Superheros!

"Two Wrongs do Make a Right"

It was generally accepted that Superheroes do not steal.

Superheroes have a verbal contract, as it were. Unstated by most but very well known; to protect their city and the people inside it. Methods and motives vary, but this rule kept things simple.

Dragonfly planned on breaking that rule.

She had never liked being conventional, truthfully. She didn’t work with cops, rarely worked with the local government. She didn’t have powers from the heavens or radioactive spills, and she certainly wasn’t rolling in cash right now. She protected her city and she protected her people, she just did it her own way.

And while she was skilled in hand-to-hand combat and all different kinds of technology, actually robbing a museum was beyond her normal capabilities.

So, here she was. Dragonfly in all of her neon glory, pacing on a rooftop. Her blue goggles only added to her insect-namesake, her thick curls trimmed short. “I just worry about the security. And the cameras. Security cameras.” she rambled. “Being physically seen robbing a museum wouldn’t be ideal.”

“Mhm. No. I imagine it would not be.”

With her was her partner; Clay. A being made of ever-shifting liquid earth, his voice often flat and monotone. Even now, as she nervously paced on the rooftops, he sat idly by, letting bits of himself drip onto the floor with a half-lidded expression.

“Dragonfly.” said Clay, his voice heavy like syrup. “I have never been inside a museum before. It cannot be that difficult. I think you are stressing yourself out. I will take care of the cameras.”

“I think it’s more the robbing- wait. Wait, you've never been? Holy shit, OK. When we’re done with this, I promise I’ll take you to a museum.” she said with a faint smile. “One with lots of hands-on stuff for you to play with.”

“I would very much enjoy that.” Despite the kind offer, Clay’s tone didn’t change. “I am still unhappy with the main part of your plan. Working with. Him.”

Right. Hayday.

Dragonfly and Clay didn’t have many people they could trust. Another terrible truth that came with the job. Dragonfly had no other living family, and Clay’s origins were a total mystery. Their flippant attitude with the local cops and government did them no favors.

And in a sea of criminals, smugglers, gangsters, mobsters, murders, aliens, eldritch beings, and whatever other nonsensical weirdos that had it out for the pair, Hayday was…an exception.

Hayday was a bit of an enigma. No delusions of grandeur, no plans for world domination. As far as Dragonfly and Clay could tell, he was just a dude who dressed up like a scarecrow to hide his identity and commit petty crimes.

“Yeah, yeah. I know you don’t.” Dragonfly sighed. “But please, give him a chance? It’s either Hayday or cops.”

Clay relented on this, if only slightly. “...I do not like cops. But I also do not like Him. The first time we met him-”

 “I believe in second chances.” She said, quietly. “Besides. We need him-”

“-Cuz ya don’t know how to pick locks.” Clambering up the fire escape to join them upon the roof was the man himself. In a striking contrast from Dragonfly's slick, modern look, Hayday looked like he stepped right out of a cornfield; dirty overalls, wide-brimmed stetson hat, a burlap mask that covered most of his face.

Clay stood, shoulders - or what could be generally considered shoulders given his anatomy - tense, brow furrowed. "You are late."

"In case ya haven't noticed, Clay-Dough, but we are currently on top of the museum? They don't exactly want people on the roof. D'ya know how hard it was to climb up here?" Hayday shot back. "Can we maybe meet up somewhere closer to ground level next time?"

"I hope there will not be a next time." Clay hissed, voice dangerously quiet. "And my name is Clay."

"The building schematics says this should be a maintenance entrance." Dragonfly brushed aside their comments with a brief explanation. She gestured to a locked door, no doubt guarding a stairwell. “It’s locked, and you’re the best lockpick we know.”

“You are the only lockpick we know.” Clay clarified.

Hayday looked between the locked door and the two. “Why not have Clay-Dough break down the door?”

“I could-” Clay began to say.

“No.” she said sharply. “I don’t want any real damage here. I want a quick in-and-out operation.”

“Operation? Don’t be so coy, now.” Hayday said with a sneer, rummaging in his pockets. “You’re stealin’. Stop actin’ high and mighty.”

Removing some thin tools from his pockets, Hayday gave the door a cursory glance. “Hm. I’m gonna guess a double cylinder deadbolt. Should be easy.”

Dragonfly and Clay couldn’t help but try and look over his shoulder, seeing slivers of silver tools inserted into the lock. If they focused, they could hear subtle clicks beneath the rumbling city ambiance.

A clank. Hayday pulled back, the door opening with him. “There.”

“How did you do that?” Clay demanded. “That took no time at all!”

Hayday gave him an unimpressed stare. “Ya ever hear the phrase ‘a magician never reveals his secrets’, Clay-Dough?”

“No. What does that mean?”

“It means ‘tough shit’.” Hayday turned to Dragonfly. “Right. Pay up. I helped ya, and now ya owe me-”

“We’re not done?” she said, tilting her head slowly at him. “You said you’d help, and we’re not done? This is only step one.”

Even with the burlap mask he was wearing, the confusion was clear on his face. “...care to run that by me again?”

“We asked for your help with taking the Dragon’s Eye Ruby, currently housed on the first floor of the museum. I got a tip that Snake Eyes planned on taking it, so Clay and I decided to take it before them-”

“And plant a fake, yeah, yeah. I got that part.” Hayday hissed, gesturing for Dragonfly to stop talking. “And I did help. I unlocked the door. What else do ya want me to do?”

“Help us take the ruby?” Clay offered. “You have experience, do you not?”

“I suppose. Experienced enough to know that I’ve already triggered the silent alarm.” he said with a wry smile. “Y’all got about twenty minutes. Thirty if traffic is bad - and let’s be honest, it always is.”

Clay’s form began bubbling like a pot of water. A rare flash of anger crept into his voice. “You knew this, but you did not tell us?!”

“Clay, cool it.” Dragonfly said, placing a hand on his ‘shoulder’, not caring for his goopy nature. “We won’t be that long, with any luck. Besides, we’re at stage two now, and that’s you.”

Taking a deep breath, Clay steadied himself. “Right. Right. I am sorry. I will go in and destroy the cameras.” He turned to Hayday, pointing at him. “If you try anything while I am away. You will regret it.”

Without another word, Clay completely melted. His humanoid form sloughing away like a warm candle, slithering through the door like a mud-covered snake.

Hayday waited a moment before turning to her. “I’ve done my part, Dragon. Pay up. I don’ wanna be here any longer than I have to.”

“Not until the job is done.” she replied. “Once the ruby is in my hand, I’ll give you what you want.”

He glowered at her. “Yer killin’ me, I hope ya know. What do ya want from me? Ya want me to hold yer hand the entire time? What’s yer angle?” His voice grew softer, more hesitant. “I didn’t think ya’d ever wanna see me again, after…”

“You tried to kill me?” she asked, looking up at him. He couldn’t look her in the eyes. She continued. “But you didn’t. That’s the key thing. You had the opportunity. But you said it yourself. You couldn’t.”

Finally, he met her gaze. “It’s…that’s just not who I am.”

“Who are you, then?”

He didn’t respond to that.

Her goggles lit up, the soft blue glow illuminating her dark face. A police report flashed on her heads-up display. “The cops are on their way.”

“Great! Great! Perfect!” Hayday began pacing. “What are ya gonna do about the rest of the security measures, dare I ask? The guards, the proximity alarm?”

“I’ve been carefully tracking the pattern of the security for several days now. If worst comes to worst, we can knock them out-”

“WE?!”

“- As for the proximity alarm, hopefully we’ll be gone by then. The cops are already coming, what are they gonna do? Send more?”

“YES?!”

Clay opened the door, gesturing for them. “The cameras have been destroyed. I have caused a distraction for the guards on the first floor-”

Dragonfly interrupted. “They’re still alive, though, right?”

He blinked at her. “Yes. My distraction caused no damage. As far as I am aware.”

“Clay-Dough, that is not reassurin’.” Hayday wheezed, sounding like a strange combination of a laugh and a choke.

“While normally I would question that statement to Hell and back, we’re really short on time here.” said Dragonfly, glancing back at the police report on her HUD. “The case with the Ruby should have a lock on it.”

She gave Hayday an expectant look. “Please?”

Hayday glared back. Clay glanced between the two of them, unsure which side to take.

"Fine. I'll stick around for now. But so help me, if there is even a whisper of trouble, I am gone. Understand?" Hayday finally said, his voice a quiet, strained hiss.

Dragonfly seemed pleased. "Thanks. We really appreciate it."

"I hold no strong feelings on this matter." Clay muttered. "Do not drag me into this."

"Ladies first." Hayday said with a wave of the hand, encouraging Dragonfly to take the lead.

She rolled her eyes at that, but stepped forward to enter, her faint glow of her goggles and gloves illuminating the dark stairwell. Clay followed, his footsteps quietly sloshing behind her. Hayday went last, closing the maintenance door behind them.

“What happens if Snake Eyes finds out?” Hayday whispered in the darkness of the maintenance tunnels. “He and I aren’t exactly on good speakin’ terms.”

“Why?” Clay twisted his neck like an owl to ask directly.

The man hesitated, fiddling with his hat. “I…erm, well, he offered me a job. I wasn’t able to do it, and I kinda…haven’t spoken to him since?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

Snake Eyes had men in every little nook and cranny of the city. The fact that Hayday had managed to avoid them all was both impressive and concerning. You couldn’t just ‘not speak’ to Snake Eyes; not forever, at least.

“That was not smart of you.” Clay finally said, swiveling his head back to normal.

Dragonfly slowly opened the door to what looked like the storage area, wincing at the creaking metal. “This should be the first floor. Let’s go do the switcheroo, and then we can bail. Don’t touch anything.”

“She is referring to you.” Clay whispered, giving Hayday a look.

She nudged Clay with a grumble. “Be nice.”

“I’m not stupid.” Hayday shot back. “Most everythin’ will have a proximity sensor.”

The three of them stalked through the darkened museum, taking care to stick to the shadows when applicable. The displays seemed practically ghoulish in the low light, with some of the displays quite literally looming over them.

"I do not want to visit a museum anymore." Clay whispered.

The Dragon's Eye Ruby, being a new exhibit, was very prominently displayed. The gem itself was a brilliant gradient of reds, purples, and oranges, and about the size of a large fist. Right in the middle of the room, contained within a glass box. The bottom of the box had a lock on it.

"Hayday, can you please-" Dragonfly began to say.

But Hayday pushed past her before she could finish. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. But ya better be ready to make the switch. Once that proximity alarm goes off, it's going to be loud."

As he began carefully stepping closer, a loud boom shook the museum. The ground and walls shook, the various exhibits clinking and clattering in their cases.

"...Dragonfly." Hayday slowly turned to her. "When was the heist supposed to happen?"

"Not until tomorrow…" she slowly trailed off. "Shit."

While Dragonfly wanted their version of the heist to be as clean and neat as possible, Snake Eyes and his goons had no such qualms about collateral damage.

Sirens screamed throughout the museum. "I didn' do that!" Hayday yelped, stumbling backwards.

"They must have moved the heist date." Said Clay. "They are going to take the gemstone. I would also guess they will not allow us to leave-”

"Wait, wait! This is a great thing!" Dragonfly grabbed onto Clay's arm, fingers sinking ever-so-slightly into him. "We can just fight them here and now and really send Snake Eyes a message! With the three of us, I bet we could totally-"

"Hayday is leaving."

Dragonfly glanced over to where Clay was pointing, seeing Hayday already having picked the window lock and beginning to open it.

"H-Hey!" She called after him. "Don't go!"

"No! I told ya! I did NOT sign up for a fight! I was here to pick locks!" He snarled, already swinging one leg over the threshold to climb out. "Look. The job Snake Eyes gave me? Was to kill you. If his men see me with ya? I'm in for a world of hurt!"

"If we work together and scare them off, imagine the message that’ll send! With your help-"

"Ya still want my help?! Then take my advice. BUZZ OFF.  Yer not gonna win this fight, Dragon. Give up. Ya lost. If ya stay here, you’re gonna get killed."

Dragonfly stared at him for a moment, before her mild surprise twisted into a deep frown. “You knew this…and your first instinct was to get yourself out of danger? You were completely content in leaving Clay and I to die?”

There was an unpleasant silence that followed.

“W-Well. No. No.” he eventually stammered, trying very hard not to make eye contact. “I-I would’ve-”

Whatever he was trying to say, she didn’t let him finish. “You were! You were! You were going to ditch us to die! I get wanting to leave, and I get being hesitant to help, but you were fine with! With!” 

“N-Now just hold on-” Hayday had almost appeared to shrink into himself, partially trying to climb out the window and partially trying to put distance between him and Dragonfly.

She leaned in close, her voice a near hiss. “Earlier, I asked who you were. You’re a cowardly, spineless thief. And you may not like blood on your hands, but you certainly don’t mind it splattering your boots as you run.” 

Leaning a bit too far out the window in response to the verbal lashing, Hayday yelped as his hand slipped, and he promptly fell backwards out the window. There was a great clamor of noise - glass bottles, metal cans, crinkling of plastic and paper, the noises of trash. Even after everything, Dragonfly struggled to resist the urge to check on him, to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

She forced herself away from the window, turning to her partner. “Clay, I know this is silly to ask, but are you ready for a fight?”

“Yes. Yes. God, yes.” He answered, fists already raised. Then he thought for a moment. “Where is Hayday?”

"He left." Was all Dragonfly said. But Clay knew her tone of voice well enough to get the picture.

"Ah. I am not surprised. He is a criminal. All criminals are the same."

She felt like she should've disputed that. She instead settled on giving him a disapproving look.

Dragonfly had more important things to focus on right now. Such as the suspicious shuffling from the closed door just to their right.

"How many of them do you think there will be?" Clay whispered, fists raised.

"I'm going to guess six." She replied, turning on her combat gloves. When active, they could deliver a terrible electrical shock, usually just enough to stun. Even as the wielder, she could feel the familiar tingle run through her bones.  "You know how Snake Eyes loves his dice motifs."

"Ah. True."

The henchmen burst down the door not a moment sooner, some of them expressing surprise at the pair being there first. The rest of them merely gripped their weapons a little tighter.

Eight of them. She was a bit off on the numbers. Thank God none of them carried firearms, so sure that they wouldn't face any resistance, they had only brought crowbars. Of course crowbars still had the capacity to hurt, something that Dragonfly hoped to avoid.

(Clay, as far as she knew, seemed completely impervious to physical damage. The crowbars would just thunk into his body, leaving a strange indent, but nothing more.)

Living up to her namesake, Dragonfly was constantly moving. Darting across the room, looking for a weakness in their defenses to strike. The room was far too small to use her wings, but even without them she was quick. 

But even as they fought, they couldn’t keep track of all the crooks at the same time. In the corner of her eye, she could see one of the men start to pick the lock to the ruby’s case. “Clay!” she shouted, narrowly dodging a crowbar.

“Currently occupied!” Clay shouted back, grabbing two of the men by their collars to restrain them.

The man grabbed the ruby from the case, sirens screaming all the while. Upon seeing an opening. She shouted, “Clay! Take over! Like we practiced!” she said, thought for a half a second, then quickly added. “Do NOT kill anyone!”

She bolted as Clay lost all pretense of human form, shifting into tendrils to grab and disarm like a horrifying claymation octopus. She normally did not like leaving him alone in fights (especially like this), and not because she was worried for his safety. But seeing the thing she came here specifically to protect currently slipping from her fingers prompted her to temporarily disregard this concern.

Nearly slipping on the museum floors, Dragonfly chased after the crook with the ruby. “HEY! Stop right there!”

He did not stop. Dragonfly wasn’t sure what she expected.

She certainly wasn’t expecting the handle of a broom to swing from a doorway to beam the man in the face, knocking him to the ground. The ruby clattered to the floor, doing more damage to the floor than the actual gem itself.

Sliding to a stop by the groaning man currently slowly writhing on the floor, she looked to see who was holding the broomstick. And she was honestly surprised to see Hayday standing there, panting as if he had ran a mile.

“You came back-”

“WHY ARE YA STILL HERE?! What part of ‘If ya stay here you’ll get killed’ did not get through to ya?!”

Dragonfly blinked at him, baffled. “Because I don’t run from fights?”

Huffing, clearly not happy with that answer, Hayday gestured to the ruby with the broom. “Well, get the stupid gem and let’s split.”

“We may not need to.” she picked up the ruby with careful hands, holding the cold stone close to her chest. “If Clay managed to beat up the rest, we can simply say that we got here only moments after and stopped the robbery. The police and the news don’t need to know our original plan.”

“Lyin’ to authorities, breakin’ and enterin’, taking’gems from museums, are ya sure you’re a hero, Dragon?” Hayday asked with a lopsided grin.

Dragonfly did not answer, stiffly turning and starting to walk back.

“H-Hey! Hey!” he quickly gave chase. “Are ya mad? Yer mad. But I came back! Look. Look. I’m sorry. Really, I am!” Hayday said. Maybe it was the lack of the smarmy attitude that he had since the very beginning. But something about it sounded genuine to Dragonfly.

Genuine or not, his timing was poor. “Let’s have this talk when we’re not in a museum full of sirens with the police on their way, kay?”

“Good plan. Good plan.”

Returning to the room where the ruby was originally kept, Dragonfly and Hayday were met with men unconscious or in stages of stupor, lying around like ragdolls. “Holy shit.” Hayday quietly muttered. “Clearly ya didn’ need me-”

Clay reformed upon seeing Dragonfly, taking his human shape. “They are still alive. I have checked.” he quickly reassured her.

“That’s awesome!” she said, carefully returning the ruby to its place. “You’re making great progress in not doing that.”

A rare smile graced Clay’s face. However, the smile died almost immediately upon realizing Hayday had returned. “Oh. I was hoping you had left. For good.”

“Yer not gettin’ rid of me that that easy, Clay-Dough.”

The sirens of the museum proximity alarms were replaced with the sirens of police cars. “And now it’s time we leave!” Dragonfly said, placing the glass box over the gemstone. Finally, she placed a small, plastic dragonfly on-top.

“Do ya just carry those around?” asked Hayday.

“Ever heard of a calling card? Have some class.” she replied.

Once the plastic dragonfly was set in place, the three of them bolted for the maintenance stairs. And once on the roof, they kept running; traveling from rooftop to rooftop until the red and blue lights and police silence blended into the usual city rumble.

Dragonfly and Clay turned to Hayday, who was currently wheezing like he had just run a marathon, hands on his knees, almost doubled over.

“For someone so quick to flee. You do not have good stamina." Clay muttered.

“Why’d you even come back?” asked Dragonfly.

“Because-” he said between breaths, “Because I didn’ mean to leave ya.”

Dragonfly crossed her arms over her chest as Clay loomed behind her, the pair of them silently urging him to continue.

“It’s just.” he stood straight, kicking at the cement under his feet. “I’ve been workin’ solo for…years now. When shit started hittin’ the fan, I worked on instinct. And my instincts told me to hit the bricks. You two didn’ deserve that. ‘M sorry.”

“OK. Where is the rest of the apology?” Clay said slowly, eyes narrowing.

“...what else am I apologizin’ for?”

“Being a thief. Being a criminal. Attempted murder-” Clay began to list on his fingers.

Hayday sheepishly smiled, “Oh. Yeah, I ain’ apologizin’ for that.”

“I appreciate the apology.” said Dragonfly with a nod. “And I’m appreciative for the help. My plan wouldn’t have worked without you.” 

“It was an alright plan.” Hayday admitted. “I’m sure it would’ve gone off withouta hitch, if they didn’ move the date of their heist.”

Dragonfly snorted. “Yeah. ‘Moved the date’. Sure.”

Hayday paused. He opened his mouth, closed it again, thought for a moment, then finally managed to ask, “You…you knew they were coming today, didn’t ya?”

She smiled. “Course we did. We’re no rookies, we know what we’re doing.”

“So ya lied to me? Told me that they were coming another day, manufacturing all of this? For what? I don’t get it.”

“I told you why at the very beginning. I wanted to know who you are. A test of character.”

"I tried to convince her otherwise." Clay added, his voice slow and languid. "But I could not sway her."

Hayday stared at her, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted and mouth slightly agape. 

But she continued regardless. “I remember, when you tried to kill me. You were shaking so bad, you know. You said you couldn’t do it, and you vanished off into the night.”

“I think…” Dragonfly looked him up and down. “...you’re a good person. I think that deep down, underneath all the sarcasm and snark and everything. You are a good person.”

Hayday continued to stare. She wasn’t sure if it was confusion, or disbelief, or maybe she had just broken him. “You honestly think. That after everything. That I’m a good person?”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence. She could see him working something out in his head. Then, with a deep, rumbling sigh, he reached into his pockets to pull out a jewel-laden necklace. “Here. I swiped it earlier, when ya weren’t lookin’. Take it before I change my mind.”

"I knew it." Clay hissed. "He is a thief. He will always be a thief."

"I gave the damn thing back, didn't I?" Hayday snapped. "I could've kept it!"

"You really shouldn't have taken this. Like. The entire point of asking you to help us was to prevent museum theft." She said, carefully taking the necklace from his hand.

"Ya didn't say I couldn't steal." He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. You owe me. And I'd like to collect now."

Dragonfly sighed. "Clay. Wallet please."

Clay shoved a hand into his own body, not unlike how one would rummage through the mud to find a missing shoe. After a moment, he pulled a wallet from his chest. "Here."

The two silently traded, Clay inserting the necklace into his body for safekeeping as Dragonfly rummaged through her wallet.

(Hayday was silently disgusted by the entire exchange.)

She handed over a plastic card. He snatched it, proceeding to give it a confused look-over. With absolutely no emotion in his voice, he asked, "...is this a fifty dollar gift card to IHop."

"I enjoy their cinnamon roll pancakes." Clay said, confirming Hayday's question.

"You wanted payment. You never specified how. But if you don't want it-" Dragonfly reached over to take the card back.

But he quickly put the gift card in his pocket, "Nope, nope, mine now. In the future, I'd like something a bit more rewarding, mind."

Dragonfly beamed at him. "Next time, huh?"

Hayday paused, as if he only just realized what he said. "Look. We ain't friends. I ain't a good person. I'm only doin' this because I'm in a good mood. Got it?"

"Buuuuut?" She pressed.

He waved his hand dismissively. "...but I wouldn't be completely opposed to working with you two again. But in the future, don't lie to me, and I don't take gift cards."

She took his outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake, much to his confusion. "It's a deal!"

Dragonfly finished the handshake, glancing at Clay expectantly. But he just slowly shook his head. "We should be leaving. The police will be searching the area soon."

"Right, right!" Dragonfly chirped, her smile near infectious. "This was a good day! Tomorrow we'll return the necklace." 

Her backpack whirred to life, two pairs of neon blue wings forming from electrical components tucked inside. Clay had already left, using his semi-solid form to quickly dart off to another rooftop.

"I'll keep in contact." She told Hayday, wings buzzing as she lifted off the ground.

"I'm uh. Sorry for trying to kill ya." He shrugged. "Way back then."

"It's alright." She smiled. "I forgive you."

[the-shark-well]

Do you perchance have any Triple Threat headcanons you’d be willing to share….

you bet I do !!! and sorry this took me a second to answer I don't often think about these three enough . which is a shame because they make me normal

These are all scrambled thoughts so I'm . very sorry if it comes off as utter nonsense . there's a lot going on in my timeline it's hard to boil it down , really . also I applied headcanons for the "canon ending" of my timeline , which is Toppat King , so you're getting romantic triple threat , hope that's okay !

for reference: Henry uses they/it , Ellie she/her , and Charles he/him

- due to Henry's future sight and being caught in a timeloop with the help of Liaf , they feel very disconnected from others for a long time

- Ellie is able to see into their head through telepathy , so the two kinda accidentally develop an extremely powerful and eldritch bond even through the barrier of a timeloop . Ellie will always know Henry better than Henry perhaps knows itself , and Henry's choices will always lead it back to Ellie .

- Henry chooses to settle down in the TK timeline due to it being the best outcome long-term , from their perspective . They get married to Ellie and later on , Charles

- Charles is the Just Some Guy in the relationship ❤️

- post-TK Henry Charles and Ellie will fake capture Charles just so he can get away from his work for a while to hang out / go on dates . Charles is the one who proposed the idea (there are a million other much simpler solutions to get Charles from his duties but , to him , this is the most fun approach)

- this is less triple threat and more Charles but , Charles and RHM develop a very silly friendship . needless to say even despite his rank as a helicopter pilot for the government , Right likes him enough to accept him as one of their own

- the ideal date night for all three of them is going out into some crowded area and doing whatever is available to them . they like making every date an adventure together . fairs and festivals and theme parks are their favorites

- Although Ellie makes a big show of being more grounded than the others , in actuality she is just as chaotic if its funny . her responsibilties are second to her commitment to the bit .

- Charles is very touchy with his friends and loved ones , not just hugs but patting them on the back or shoulder , shaking them around , bumping their shoulder , etc. the others weren't used to it at first but they pretty quickly adjusted

- Ellie and Henry are rarely if ever seen apart . due to their weird divine relationship to one another they are very in sync as a married couple and Toppat leaders . Charles , due to his chaos powers of extreme empathy , learns to catch up with the connection the two share . although not nearly on the same level of Eldritch as the other two , he can read both of their emotions pretty plainly .

- Charles might eventually make the leap and join the Clan instead of living a double life , but he struggles with how to confront Galeforce about it without him freaking out

- Henry is very quiet and to themself and doesn't usually speak unless they absolutely must or are comfortable . Charles and Ellie are the only two who have consistently heard it talk .

- Ellie's best trait and worst flaw is her trust in others and the desire to give people second chances . Despite her history as a Toppat , she never wants to believe that anyone can be evil and self-serving everytime . this did get her in trouble back in the day (hence being at the Wall) , but it also allowed her to get close to Henry and get it to see that it can do and be better . Henry is very grateful for her .

- Charles is similarly very trusting , although less likely to give people second chances , he moreso operates on first impressions or orders given to him . His personal feelings may sometimes come secondary to his instructions . for some reason Henry and Ellie throw a wrench into his typical attitude . he just cannot bring himself to wish harm upon them , which really muddies things more when he starts to seek them out and talk to them . despite literally all of his orders telling him not to .

- Henry doesn't trust anybody because they don't even trust themself 👍 Their disconnect from people due to controlling the timeloop with Liaf is why they felt so Nothing about everything they've been doing . Until they met Ellie , and Ellie was the only person who saw what was up and that shook Henry to their core so bad they immediately started to reform . Henry nowadays is much , much better at trusting people , especially its partners .

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Suppose 'The King in Yellow' exists in the world of twilight. Which cullen reads the play?

The King in Yellow for those unfamiliar with it, is a fictional play within a set of short stories that's eldritch before there was even eldritch.

Boringly and sadly, anon, none of them. That in itself would be a story as whoever reads more than the first act is driven mad. The Cullens are a lot of things but they're functioning, they teeter on the brink of madness (at least Edward certainly does) but they never quite fall off the edge.

I can list off the Cullens who've never heard of it and have no interest and those who are... tempted...

Alice

Has no interest in it/has never heard of it. Edward's talked about it here and there but Alice isn't what you'd call an intellectual or someone with any interest in reading weird plays that sound cerebral and boring.

Bella

Bella's heard of it but never read it and only vaguely knows what it's about. She feels like it's one of those things she always ought to read but it's not her genre so she always mumbles away excuses on why she hasn't read it yet. "I'll get around to it someday," Bella says without really meaning it and knowing she'll read Mansfield Park again.

This is even worse when she's a vampire as she has 'infinite' time to get anything done so she never actually sits down to read new things.

Carlisle

Oh, he's heard of it and it terrifies him. He's actually read all of act 1 and found it, as everyone described, banal, not that interesting, and very benign. He's always been tempted to start the second act but fear has stayed his hand and so far he has never done it.

Edward

Edward didn't even start the play. He's so terrified of what it might do to him, what truths it could possibly reveal, that he hasn't even read the first act that Carlisle assures him was quite normal and certainly not madness inducing. Edward's so terrified that a part of him believes even to look on the cover would drive him past the point of no return.

However, he has explicitly kept it on his bookshelf as both a point of pride (he hasn't gone mad yet) and a temptation he can't even explain to himself.

All it would take is for him to reach over, flip open its cover, and...

Emmett

He frequently gets it confused with Waiting for Godot. Because of this, he'll insist that he watched it and can see why it drove people utterly mad out of sheer boredom. When someone points out that was Waiting for Godot he tries to figure out what The King in Yellow is but ultimately forgets and thinks it's Waiting for Godot again.

Esme

Esme's heard of it but has little interest in it and isn't sure why anyone would want to read a play that would drive them mad. Seems like a silly thing to do when you can always not read the play and not be mad.

Because of this, she doesn't understand how the play would tempt anybody and thinks it's on Edward's shelf as a kind of strange decoration.

Jasper

Jasper has heard of it but has no interest in it. That sort of intellectual nonsense isn't his thing. Like Esme, he doesn't know how a play would drive you mad or why you would read if it drives you mad.

He suspects one day Edward will give in and read it though. He's not looking forward to that fallout.

Renesmee

Somehow, the play ends up on Renesmee's bookshelf and because she has 0 supervision despite being watched by Jacob all the time she has no idea how dangerous of a play it is and that it may very well drive her mad.

She probably ends up reading it one day and the entire family doesn't notice she's been driven utterly mad.

Rosalie

She's heard of it but has no interest in it. She despairs of Emmett not knowing what it is but considers herself cultured enough in at least knowing generally what it's about. She's mildly curious why it would drive people mad but not enough to do anything about it.

[zedecksiew]

EVANGELION

Neon Genesis Evangelion was my whole identity, when I was fifteen.

I was an angsty boy from a small town. I longed to have a fiery redhead be mean to me (or to just meet one); to be part of world-ending events (or to be part of a clique that mattered); to pilot a god (or to just feel powerful in my own body).

As I grew up I've managed to sublimate those longings, I guess?

All my middle-age aches tell me my body is friend who cannot be taken for granted; their are not a flesh-tool. On good writing days, I do feel like I make some meaning in the world.

And, while I've still never met a fiery redhead---I no longer see Westerners as aspirational, so meeting them now feels human instead of symbolic.

+

Last year I watched the Rebuild series through. I liked it! Parts of the new movies remind me of Shin Godzilla (my favourite Hideaki Anno work).

Some notes:

+

1. CAD leads to overdesign

True when Tim Burton got CGI; true when Games Workshop started to sculpt minis on computers; true for the nonsense Evas, Unit 05 onwards, and that over-busy flying SDF-1 knockoff. I mean, what the fuck am I looking at here???

And while some stuff like the Eva 07s are neat (they've got these skull + pharaoh-chin designs), it's moot because you can barely see them, because they only appear in scenes like this:

So dumb, so dumb.

The new angels were sick, though. Because when you overdesign by computer you pass into the realm of the inhuman, and the angels are supposed to be eldritch inhuman creatures.

Sahaquiel was my favourite re-designed angel. It got these ridges that look like leaping evangelical choirs.

+

2. Meta-indulgence

I've aged out of thinking that breaking the fourth wall is clever. I did like the meta stuff in last film, though? Calls back on the series finale + End of Evangelion. But crucially it felt really different.

It felt like a satisfying (and kinder!) end to the characters' stories; more satisfying closure for the fans. It felt like Anno was saying goodbye to his demons, putting the franchise to bed, and turning off the lights. Moving on.

(All instantly rendered moot when they announce a new Evangelion project / tie-in / whatever. Because of course they will. Because Capitalism.)

+

3. Rebuilding

The best part of Thrice Upon A Time is the first third of the film: minutiae from a community of survivors trying to pick themselves up from the end of the world. Planting rice, arranging hot baths, playing with pregnant cats.

Evangelion finally got some actual, undashed hope.

The whole movie could've just been this---the characters staying in this small town, dealing with their demons, learning how to feel and heal and actually live the lives that were stolen from them.

That would've been a really good way to end, honestly.

+

4. Child soldiers

The most obvious thing about Evangelion is this:

its protagonists, the pilots of the giant mechas, are emotionally and physically tortured preteens, gaslit and manipulated by every adult they meet.

This is a show about the use and abuse of children. My teenage self never clocked it. Hm, I wonder why!

Maybe because I didn't yet have the discursive tools to understand that stuff; 2000 was a different time, after all.

Maybe I didn't care. Surrogate mommy please kiss me and dangle that sex-carrot so I'll go kill the world, oh yeah! Use me, mommy!

Because when you're that young you'd do anything to be treated as important, as an adult. You want to be used, because being used means you are legitimate.

And nothing is as legitimate as suffering.

[a-teacup-of-golden-cracks]

tw this is a trauma post but it's also a narrative I'm proud of. Suicide and self harm (mental and physical) will be mentioned.

To help those who aren't me understand, I think in part in references since it is both easier and more fun than creating original thoughts.

(1): reference to the videogame Omori

(2): reference to the movie The Dark Knight (take a guess as to why I like and relate to the joker)

(3): reference to a song I like (in order, HOPE by NF, Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park, Love the Subhuman Self by AISHA, Arc System Works, and Jamison Boaz)

(4): a random saying I heard and enjoyed

“No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies”

“Behind blue eyes” by The Who

Welcome to the nonsensical abyss of my mind, you've been here as long as you can remember (1). By reading this you're getting to see my thoughts without translation. Nothing here makes sense to anyone except me, I make references others rarely understand. But allow me to tell the story of how what you see now came to be. You wanna know how I got these scars (2)? “I spent years of my life holdin’ on to things I never should've kept, full of hatred, years of my life wishin I was someone different looking for some validation.” (3)

Middle school was a special sort of subtle hell for me, it stole things without me noticing. First it was my feeling of impervious safety when a kid laughed at a genuine heartfelt remark I made. Then it was my trust that friends would never betray me and always respect me when they wouldn't stop making jokes at my expense. Slowly, steadily I descended into paranoia and loneliness, and thus my contentedness with life was stolen. The ax forgets yet the tree never does(4).

A secret hidden issue that I only found out this year was that the ADHD meds I needed to take to function may have been causing the paranoia to start with. I still don't know how to feel about that, that all my issues and trauma might stem from something that's not even real.

Once I started high school it became more and more apparent that nobody liked me. At least not for very long. I never learned to function in middle school so I was still struggling with what everyone else already knew and mastered. Giving a compliment and sexual harassment, would you like to know the difference? I would've but nobody told me until after I'd been punished.

Intent vs impact, I never intended to hurt anyone yet my impact was that I did more often than not. So I cut off the things that hurt people, removed them from my mind. Who needs humor? Not me if I can't use it right. Who needs to give compliments? Not me if I can't say it right. Who needs to hug people to show affection because it's your primary love language and you want to show everyone how much you like and appreciate them? …… not me…. if I must…. to not hurt them…

You see where my inner pain starts now? Where the scars in my mind begin? There were two things I could never bear to cut and slice away, my name and my kindness. Most trans people change their names to align more with their gender but I decided no. I am done changing things for other people to accept me more, they never do. My name is Daniel and it's the sum of my entire being. If I am non-binary, or a woman, or some eldritch horror that everyone fears and that has lost every shred of humanity because of the things I've endured, then my name represents all of that. It's not my issue if people make a poor assumption about my name because of what they think it should be.

Maybe I don't even want to be human anymore if all that humans have shown me is hate. All throughout high school it was nothing but hate or dislike shown to me, barely any kindness outside of my family. So I isolated myself from everyone, to avoid those who hated and to not burden my family with my issues. I'd handle it by myself like I always had in the past and I'd be ok.

I was not ok.

I was rageful. I was tearing myself apart more and more and more internally, only my desire to never hurt anyone kept me from tearing the school down brick by brick with all the students inside it. But maybe… could it be I was the exception and the problem? Could it be I'm the one who deserves to hurt for the pain I've caused? Should I hurt myself? And so I tried once, a good solid punch to the forehead that didn't make me feel any better and never tried again.

The pain I deserved wasn't physical, it was mental and so I gave myself infinite mental pain. What an idiot I was for giving that compliment when clearly in retrospect it was sexual harassment, what a dumbass I was for saying that joke, looking back I deserve to lose my entire friend group over it. Maybe I'd be better off if I didn't exist anymore if I caused more harm than good and could never seem to learn or improve. The thoughts I had then… and sometimes still now… it's so hard to remember that looking into the past makes everything obvious in the worst ways possible…

But there was a light eventually, someone who told me all that was wrong. Someone I met online and will never see in person, someone I messed up horribly with and yet she still forgave me. Thank you infinitely June. You showed me that monsters can be good.

So I steeled my resolve and used my rage at myself to look inward and outward and found that I was being mistreated and misunderstood. I shouldn't kill myself to not exist or hurt people because I would improve and I could make others improve. So I stood at the very last meeting in front of the whole school and spoke the truth of my mind with as much respect and rage as I could muster. So much pain and anger and hate and sadness I'd endured and I showed all of it to the entire high school of 300 people.

I've never felt more satisfied in my life than when the headmaster of the school himself asked if there was anything he could do for me and I said no. I've never felt more proud when I met with him two days later and asked for a neurodivergent support group to be created for the middle and high school, and he said yes. Half a year later my brother told me that the headmaster stuck to his word and did more than I asked. I never felt more vindicated than when I was told by my only friend that he'd heard people making school shooter jokes after I stood up and told my story.

And so I started to heal. My humor, I did need that. How could I be happy if I could never make myself laugh? My desire to give joy and be kind, I needed that. How could I not fulfill the purpose in life I'd made for myself? My ability to hug and love and be happy with others, I needed that. Desperately. “I want to heal, I want to feel what I thought was never real, like there was somewhere I belong.”(3) I just needed to find better people who understood. I reconnected with my family and told my pain and tried in every possible way to show how sorry and sad I was for cutting them off. I couldn't stitch the old bits back onto me but maybe I could grow something new. Something I wanted and I loved, for me.

I can never fully heal, that's why you see the holes in my form, but I've incorporated them now, so that they help me as much as they hurt. I carry on and love my subhuman self, accept me for me and go back to being with humans (3). I give them the kindnesses I can but only after I do that for myself. This is the kindness and respect I give to me, the biggest change I made, because I deserve it as much as everyone else. Now close your eyes and you'll leave this dream (1).

“But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be.”

Behind Blue Eyes by the Who

[paragonrobits]

random thought, its never really sat well with me how comedy or funny things is usually simplified to 'bad stuff happens to someone and it makes me laugh' since more often than not, that kind of humor leans much more into being deeply discomforting; it depends entirely on how its presented, but if if the vibe is generally 'something bad happened to this guy, laugh at it!' i tend to feel more uncomfortable than anything. something similar applies to jokes about someone being embarrassed, mortified or even outright emotionally hurt is almost invariably uncomfortable, instead of funny

so it begs the question; what DO I find funny, and what makes something funny as a definition?

honestly I don't know how to answer that. its a complicated thing that runs on subjective vibes I don't know if i can clarify it. But as a few general rules of thumb, a lot of things that make me laugh, and that other people i know tend to also fun equally funny:

wordplay, puns, and disruption of expectations. This is a real broad category and varies from simple puns and word play, and the latter includes pretty much any joke where the humor comes from HOW its said, most speciifcally the joke of 'saying something really lowbrow in a really complicated or fancy way, or tossing up a radically different speaking style out of nowhere into dialogue'. Things like someone with a very coarse or every day way of thinking suddenly dropping extremely technical and complex terminology out of nowhere (especially if the character never normally talks like that) and then goes on like it didn't happen is always deeply funny (This can also apply to dramatic moments; let's take the Legacy of Kain series, which is infamous for its very melodramatic speaking style, with every single line being a grand and deeply dramatic delivery straight out of a Shakespearean monologue; if you've ever seen that 'raziel making chocolate pudding' video based on that one Rugrats meme, I cannot stress enough how THE ENTIRE SERIES IS ACTUALLY LIKE THAT. So when Raziel greets his deteragonist Kain by saying "OH no, its you again; every time I see you something unbearable dire happens. I don't think I have the stoomach for it", its genuinely funny because he NEVER says anything like that. Something similar applies to Kain, after spending the entire series as either a schemer manipulating everyone and trying to outplay his foes OR running a long-term gambit not even the player is likely aware of, after he sees the true eldritch horror of one of the settings' biggest perils that he was completely unaware of, he is reduced to simply stating "What the hell...?" that comes off as both funny (again, because he NEVER says anything like that) and dramatic because before this, Kain's usual deadpan remarks and fondness for eloquent musings completely deserts him.)

Unexpected/surprise. This is by far the single most funny thing i can think of, if something is surprising, catches you off guard or otherwise makes your brain go WHOA I DIDN'T EXPECT THAT. One great example is the trend of making Google Translated videos; dubbing dialogue after feeding normal lines into multiple layers of google translate and making them completely nonsensical, especially if still spoken with a grandoise or dramatic air. They're just so UNEXPECTED and even seeing them multiple times is always a delight. Additionally, if you're sensitive to things that make you feel bad, so much so that characters in distress makes you uncomfortable instead of amused, these kind of jokes have the benefit of not really working that way; the joke is not taking amusement in the misfortune or discomfort of someone, but just something being REALLY DANG WEIRD. (One example is pretty much a lot of Looney Tunes' earliest and most widely liked works, but another is actually Garfield. One of my favorite gags in that strip are the ones that come completely out of nowhere, such as an entire week of Garfield being startled by a random dog popping out of increasingly improbable places like a trapdoor in the floor while shouting "(x thing) DOG!" Its one reason that my favorite era of the strip was the mid 80s to mid 90s, which mostly featured this kind of comedy.)

[unwisemagi]

Au Ideas!

I'm sick, so until I have enough brain function to continue the parent au, take a few ideas I had while groggy on cough syrup.

•RPG Au: The scrybes are just a group of enthusiastic DnD (or other such RPG tabletop games) players. Inscryption is the name of their longest running campaign that went off the rails because of how much fun they've been playing. Leshy and Poe (PO3) are competitive with each other, especially when it comes to being the DM. Magnificus handles all the props, art work, and magic. Grimora is a voice of reason (most of the time) and handles all the gothic and horror related stuff. Their subordinates are new players who are learning from them.

•New Characters Au: okay, so imagine Inscryption exists as it's own separate world. And somehow, the challengers end up stuck in the game. Thing is the challengers all know each other and are even friends, this group can include Luke and Kaycee. How do they know each other? The group plays DnD and/or Warhammer40k (I only know those two lol) and end up sharing all sorts of stories from the many campaigns they've run with the Scrybes. The group somehow starts a new campaign and the scrybes can't help but watch because damn, they are so creative and really strategic! But then they do the dumbest most nonsensical things possible. Maybe they convince the scrybes to join one time, who knows.

•Acting Au: Inscryption is a video game with sentient ai. It's so sentient, that to protect themselves from deletion or worse, they put on a show for any players that find their game. The OLD-DATA is more like an Eldritch being that watches everything. It makes sure the codes function, keeps out malware/viruses, and alters the world as needed. They're like the big protector of the game instead of a threat.

•Glitch: Inscryption isn't a finished game. It was abandoned right? So what if that meant the game wasn't stable. There's missing textures, people with no names or purpose even programed, left over code that was never taken care of, and glitches. So many glitches and bugs. Imagine a world like that from their eyes and how terrifying it must be. Seeing areas that don't match the rest of the world at all, or places you can't walk or you risk just falling through what should be solid ground. Emotionless, in some cases, faceless people walking around that never respond and never will. Watching things blink in and out of existence or not being able to comprehend some objects because they technically don't exists. It's why they are so desperate to finish/release the game. Besides that, whose to say that deleting the game won't cause more problems rather than fix it. Especially if the ones who delete it are from the game instead of outside it

[ultraericthered]

The Lost Potential Of Dr. Regal & Nebula

I've got some thoughts to spare regarding this guy:

Dr. Regal, leader of the Nebula netcrime syndicate and Big Bad in both the Megaman Battle Network 4 and Battle Network 5 games. Regarded as the weak link among the main villains in the series, far weaker a Big Bad than his father Dr. Wily, and would be considered about as solid a Big Bad as Sean from BN2 at best were it only not for his horrid showing in BN4. While almost a total waste in the games, he was made into a far more effective villain in the anime and manga adaptations (both titled Megaman NT Warrior in the west.)

I've talked about that before, but I believe that while Regal himself got rescued from evil mediocrity by the adaptations, Regal as the son of Dr. Wily and Regal as the leader of Nebula never quite reached his full potential anywhere in the franchise. For sure the anime handled the former better than the games and the manga handled the latter better than the games, but neither got it down definitively.

In BN4, Regal drops the bombshell that Wily is his father completely out of nowhere during his nonsensical moral relativity ramble at the end of the main story, literally seconds before he drops himself to his apparent demise. Obviously that's some shit writing, but BN5, to its credit, tried to salvage the idea and make something of it by having Regal and Yuichiro play off each other, with their plot all about Regal trying to finish work that was begun by both of their genius fathers, Dr. Hikari/Light and Dr. Wily respectively, only Regal sought to abuse that work in service of his own crazy scheme for world destruction. But then the game kind of sabotages that by bringing in Wily himself at the climax, with only the Colonel Version actually giving you the full scene and showing that it's even him. There is no substantial interaction between the father and son before the former breaks the latter's mind and erases his memories. Regal becomes a goodie who joins Yuichiro's research team, and then in BN6 Wily's the Big Bad once again and Regal never shows up and is never talked about.

So I can see why the anime had Regal as one of Wily's adopted children and the manga left their connection untouched. Like if you weren't going to make much use of him being Wily's son by blood, then what's even the point of going in that direction to start with?

But the problem with Nebula might be more galling to me personally. This is what "Nebula" is named for, what Regal plans to unleash:

Nebula Gray is a malicious software program made entirely of Dark Power, embodying all the darkness within the human soul, with the power to amplify a person's darkest emotions, form for them dark thoughts, and feed their darkest impulses, even giving them tangible form. The power from it in its base form serves as the core source of the Dark Power that goes into the making of Nebula's Dark Chips. The manga takes it a step further by saying that Nebula Gray is the digitally generated vessel for an eldritch god of darkness and destruction who sourced all Dark Power. Holy shit, that is EPIC.

Didn't feel all that epic in the game, though! And honestly, that's not on Nebula Gray itself - it services as a final boss just fine. I realized that the real problem here was with the Nebula syndicate. They did not work in a way that properly built towards the threat of Nebula Gray. And unlike all iterations of WWW or Gospel from BN2, there are no notable, named, fully designed humans in Nebula aside from Dr. Regal himself. Everyone else are generic masked Mooks.

As for the “Darkloid” programs that serve the syndicates, both BN4 and BN5 put together only give us these six:

They're alright, but Laserman.EXE (Regal's personal Navi) is only present in BN4, three of them are only present in BN5, and Dark Megaman is like Negaduck in being technically two different entities.

Personally, I think these programs from the BN4-BN6 trilogy that were not affiliated with Nebula should've been Nebula Darkloida:

I feel like this would round out Nebula's Darkloids to give them a far more distinct identity. WWW had a varied lot of minion programs, while Gospel was more distinctly mechanical/metallic in their programs aesthetics. Nebula, given what it's named for and sought to unleash upon the net, should've been full horror/monster-based. I mean, it's already kind of there with the killer android, the bat-winged vampire, the dark storm genie, the abominable snowball man, the alien being, and the evil Megaman clone. Even Regal himself, as I've noted, is like Victor Frankenstein crossed with Vlad Tepes/Count Dracula. Adding some more creepy, wierd looking programs to the mix, including a literal Frankenstein's Monstrosity in Junkman.EXE, would've helped to really push and solidify that vibe.

As for the lack of human operators? I think the approach to that needed to be something along the lines of what another despicably monstrous evil scientist, one Akihiro Kurata, did in Digimon Savers with his Bio-Hybrid minions. The human operators would be unseen because they'd be directly synchronized with the Darkloids, with the Dark Chip serving as a medium between the boosted powers of the Darkloids and the soul of the human connected/merged with their programs. Not only is this extra fiendish for corrupting humans with Dark Power and really leaning more into the drug/substance abuse angle of the Dark Chips, but in creating a dilemma where if Megaman deletes any of these Darkloids he could risk killing a human being. And that in addition to what Dark Power does to programs and how Nebula gladly has programs sacrificed as cannon fodder would make the syndicate as strong as Gospel in terms of being a scary threat.

Also, Regal could've afforded to be more like his anime incarnation because that Regal was fucking GOATed in what a menace he was.

[dudefromwormhole]

Kayne childhood headcanon cause I want that bitch cry.

Even though he is a god and stuff and probably didn’t have a childhood(if he didn’t than I have questions why he has a family in the first place but that fucker could lie so fuck him) I like to think of him as very needy star-child. Always making up some performances, lots of hobbies, activities just to prove that he’s the best, and the “special” one.

Seriously, call him “daddy’s special boy” and he’ll punch you in the face before dragging through all nine circles of hell. With a smile and performance.

Wonder if he thinks that any compliment or praise for him is nothing more than a joke or flattery or whatever. I think he may.

Like. He wants attention just like any other kid. But he never receives it. He always gets brushed away like some fly, insignificance. He thinks that others(Shub, for instance) get better treatment but actually no, it’s just they have different coping methods from him.

He’d always try and to some wild shit but the only thing he got for it is literal violence and all those “beating a child” punishments. I like to think that They(parents assuming he had them) could lock him up somewhere and even forget about him for years or so just because a) they had other thing to do, b) they had more important, “powerful”, “strong” kids to spend time with(that basically why he needs Blackstone and why he’s been killing all the alternates. He can’t stand the fact that there’s can be literally him, living a better life then Kayne himself and also, he wants to be the strongest, the most “special” to finally be on a spotlight.)

Also, a lot of silent treatment too! That or complete brushing his words off as a nonsense. That’s basically the reason why he’s so talkative and never shut up or looks down at whatever he talks with always saying their words are “stupid”.

That’s incredibly stupid of me to speculate on childhood of ELDRITCH OUTER GOD, but whatever. It’s all about having fun.

I’m literally on “I heard you have a family. Gonna make it a YOU problem now” vibe.

[airplanned]

Work in Progress Monday!

Presenting: The first scene of A Me for You spin off with Robin, who's trying her best not to be an unhinged, eldritch grief monster

Or: wait, wait! I think I have a plot/structure for this! (Which is funny, because it needs to come after the Nami spin off. Oh well!)

--

Three months after Marineford

Robin waits by the sloop, standing on the ruined dock facing a ruined town.  The smell of smoke still hangs in the air, and she  breathes through her mouth and ignores the images flashing through her mind.  Her hands ball into tight fists, because she doesn't allow them to shake.

She has always been good at keeping it together.

By the time the figure strides towards her, pausing just three steps onto the dock to tilt his head at her, she has the most perfect bored posture.

"Dracule Mihawk," she greets with dispassion.  This man could kill her, so she'll have to be ready to kill him first.  That would be unfortunate.  "My name is Nico Robin."

"Demon Child," he says.

"Yes."

"I've never heard of you."

The corners of her mouth twitch, something in her chest stuttering as it loosens.  "I'm looking for information regarding Roronoa Zoro."

He blinks gleaming gold eyes at her.  "Roronoa Zoro."

"He is first mate of the Strawhat Crew, and a swordsman of some renown."

He sighs as if the conversation is vexing, and in a bored voice says, "My understanding is that the Strawhat Crew went into hiding for their own safety.  Such deep hiding that even their own crewmates are unable to find them."  His eyebrow twitches.  "Or perhaps I've been misinformed."

"You have not."

"Then I wouldn't have the slightest idea."

"I know.  I'm not asking where he is.  I just want to know if he's alive and well."

His eyes narrow slightly.  "How would I know that?"

"There's a legend.  When you hold someone's life in your hands and show mercy, a debt is formed on a spiritual level.  You would feel the release of that debt upon his death."  (He would feel the ripping, the tearing, the blinding shock of pain--)

The story is nonsense.  There's no such legend, and if there was, even she wouldn't be desperate enough to believe it.

It's nonsense.  And Dracule Mihawk will recognize it as such, and with any luck, he will take it as the opportunity for the plausible deniability that it is.

Because Robin knows that Mihawk and her swordsman are soulmates, and Dracule Mihawk is the only person she knows who can tell her if Zoro is alive.

"That is absurd," he says.

"Perhaps."

He hums and lazily steps forward.  "I have felt no such release of his debt.  So by your logic, I would assume he is alive."

She holds herself back from sagging in relief.  Alive, alive, alive, alive.

"You want to know if he's doing well."  He's closer now, and getting closer.  "Roronoa Zoro is determined and loyal to a fault.  After being separated from his friends and watching his captain suffer such a bitter defeat while wrestling with the guilt that he failed to be there to help...No, I imagine he is not faring well at all."

A shudder runs through her.  Pain and regret and sympathy because she knows what Zoro feels.  It's a part of what she herself feels.

Mihawk comes even with her and keeps walking, passing her to head towards his sloop.  "But he is strong," he says.  "I'm sure he will recover and return to his usual, irksome self."

She hums in agreement, her eyes locked on the ruined town in front of her.

Then his footsteps pause.

He heaves a put upon sigh.

He does not turn around as he says, "I know I'll regret asking this.  But how many other Strawhat Pirates have you managed to track down?"

"One."  She looks over her shoulder and meets the corner of his eye.  "Our sharpshooter seems to be doing as well as could be expected.  Perhaps better than most.  It seems he didn't watch the broadcast."

"A blessing."

"Indeed."

He turns and easily hops aboard his small ship, untying the moor lines and tossing them away.  She offers a few quiet hands to push him on his way.

As he drifts off, he gives her one final look.  "My condolences, Nico Robin."  His sincerity sets something aching in her chest.  And he sounds sincere with his next words as well.  "Do not contact me again."

She bows her head in agreement, and he turns away.  She watches until his ship is nearly out of sight.

Then she allows herself a single moment.  She hugs herself as tightly as she can and heaves the deepest breath she can mange.

Zoro is alive.  Alive, alive, alive. 

This time, her family will survive.

[feralkwe]

in an effort to not succumb to a potential panic attack, i will instead focus on some fandom nonsense! i've had a little influx of new follows, almost exclusively people i've seen in the ffxiv tags and watched from afar for awhile now, so maybe i should do a little intro post.

i'm feral kwe (kwe means woman in anishinaabemowin) but you may feel free to call me just b. just a tired, queer, indigenous lady who is an eldritch being in tumblr years (my original blog started in 2008 or 09) and gets a little too lost in the blorbo sauce. the fandom i'm currently most active in is ffxiv, but i dabble in good omens, mass effect, a couple of the gay vampire shows, and have been in and out of marvel fandom. i'm a dragon age old, my first online fandom and the one i went the most hard in up until now, so consider that a blanket warning for the upcoming months, since i'm not sure yet where i'll fall into it again. for the foreseeable future, i'm quite happy in my ffxiv brainrot, and will happily go on and on and on (and on and on) about my wol, kit hareington given even a breath of permission to do so.

i write fic! i'm feralkwe on ao3, and have the highlights marked in a pinned post. i write original work, too, and have even sold and published some. it's easy enough to find, so i won't link it here, but if you are curious and want to ask me about it, please do!

speaking of asks! my askholebox is always open and i welcome people to just drop in unannounced. consider this open provocation to do so! i don't have anon enabled, and likely never will. my life is better for it. 11/10 do recommend as a life choice.

i don't follow a lot of people. i keep the number artificially low for the sake of not having so much go by that i can't keep up. that said, i do try to check in on the blogs of people who follow me from time to time. i don't really make mutual/non-mutual distinctions. since i block with abandon for any multitude of reasons, if you're here at all i already love you. that said, if you follow @yamisnuffles or @icescrabblerjerky you are likely to see a lot of overlap. they're my ride or die lifelong besties and we exist in a state of mutual whimsy that can best be described as 'lol ilu'. do with that information what you will.

i try my best to use tags consistently for things i know need it. that said i do my best to stay out of active dragon age main tags, and do not use any of those in original posts. the most pertinent one, the one i was asked to tag the most, and the one i've had the longest is #and that's jenga, my personal anders tag. if you need something tagged, please ask, and i'll try my best to accommodate reasonable requests.

i probably haven't read your blog description. i probably did not notice if you have a dni. i assume if you're here that i don't fall under any umbrella you desperately do not want to engage with. i do not vet the blog of every poster i reblog. if you think i've done something harmful, please give me the benefit of the doubt that i did so unknowingly, and give me a chance to correct it. i'm human, and so are you. i just ask that we try to be excellent to each other.

i think that covers everything! if i missed anything, like i said, ask! or just come say hi and introduce yourself!

[nick-close]

i think a lot of current discussion and enjoyment of the fandom is s2 centered? so more s1 stuff is slightly less usual in the show now (despite still having a lot of references lol)

Nothing hurts more than the fact I spent like literally half an hour on a reply and the power went out as I went to post it- but fuck it! We try again. I’ll try to make it shorter this time. (I failed sorry.)

I totally understand that the current fandom is more s2 focused and want different things. But I don’t think that means it shouldn’t be viewed from a s1 lense. The first season set the foundation and appeal of the show as a comedy. Though I do think the fandom is genuinely a lot younger rn and focuses more on ships, character moments, story beats, etc- which is totally fine! I’m not trying to dismiss critiques or say these wants are stupid because of the younger fanbase- I was in this fandom since I was 15. I do think it plays into the wants and appeals of the show though.

And here’s really the thing. S1 is the basis of the show- it should’ve set the expectations for how the podcast goes. Where I think the divide comes from, is that the younger audience usually means people binged s1- rather than listen episodically. Binging it, you don’t have to wait between the stupid five footers and nonsense to get to character beats and emotions because you can just go and go and go to the next episode.

This is why I think people are so impatient in s2. I see people writing their own fanfiction ideas about how the next episode is going to go, spending 2 weeks building up an expectation that is never actually going to meet the show. If they were binging through this, I don’t think anyone would have this strong of a reaction to this episode because they’d just go to the next one to try and get what they want. People love the characters and plot so much they tend to forget the podcast has always been a rowdy comedy podcast at its core.

I actually think one of the reasons s2 struggles so much is because of the huge expectation to live up to the emotional beats of s1 without realizing the stupid moments are the reasons they WORK. You need Henry’s hippie jokes to make Oakvale hit. You need Glenn’s weed joke to Erin so it can come back at the trial. We make jokes about how ‘I’m crying over Glenn Close in Meth Bay lol!’ But that’s why the emotions hit so heavy. They are not SUPPOSED to be every episode.

The podcast is founded on the jokes and the stupid shit- if you want cool dnd shit.. like, this isn’t your podcast. That isn’t me gatekeeping or saying people can’t enjoy it if they come for those moments- but genuinely telling you to remember what you’re coming to. If you love the characters and the story, that’s great- but the comedy and bullshit episodes are always the core of the show for the story to build around. If you’re not gonna like them, that’s okay- but you will only disappoint yourself if you keep coming expecting something else.

You can watch it and hate these episodes. You can feel disappointed or upset something didn’t happen. That’s totally fine. But I really draw an issue with people viewing it as an error on the show’s end. Your personal preference not aligning with the show all the time is cool! But the show doesn’t pretend to be anything but stupid. It’s not bad storytelling to make the comedy show funny. The episode after the Grant Yeet scene, a huge part of it is them looking at Darryl’s shit in the toilet and getting eldritch trauma. You can’t really pick and choose Imo. But hey, do what you want, I’m just some guy! And ultimately if complaining is how you have fun (I get it, I love talking shit) then enjoy fandom however you like.

[voidselfshipp]

I Bet On Losing Dogs

->Cw: body horror mention,hurt/confort,gif contains Fire,spoilers for TMA from episodes 77-83.

Summary: after events of Not Sasha and the death of the mysterious book keeper, Jon finds himself adrift with nothing to his name, falling back on the one person that he can,his eldritch being of a girlfriend,jerico.

->Only mutuals/Friends allowed to reblog.

Jonathan looked at the small room Jerico had carved out for him. This house,Like many things hes seen, bends to the Will of things beyond his comprehension.

Despite everything that had happened,losing his home and practically the entirety of his things, he still had found a place to stay,of course its the only person who understands what happened.

--Are you okay-- ah,there she is, jerico stands there at the entrance of his room. She looks concerned and her arms are folded over her chest like they usually are.

--Im...alright-- he lied, unconvincingly so.

--The hell ya are--She answered,stepping into the room, the safeguards she had put into place wobbling the mirage of her human form as the endless tumoltuos sea she had for skin breaks into foamy dark waves.

--Jerico ive burndened you enough by making you set up a place for me here

She rolled her eyes as she usually does whenever he says nonsense-- Youre no burden and you didnt make me do anything--Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug,he sighs and reluctantly hugs her, feeling shy and out of place. --You have a home here

Jonathan remains silent,face Burning with shame, his arms squeeze her and in no time hes burying his head on her chest,holding Back tears.

--You always have a place to stay here,this is your home too--She muttered, rocking Him side to side--cry if you need to

And her heart shatters like brittle coral as tears stains her shirt and sobbig falls past the lips of her beloved archivist. The Eye had gotten away with so much,she never particularly liked that entity even before Jon came into the picture.

He can feel her blood boiling,though hes not sure if he can sense her ire or he can feel her blood bubbling and pressing against her skin.

Tears fall past his cheeks like waterfalls, and she guides him to his bed to hold him better. She hates seeing him upset,stressed, she knows this is the peak of Many,many years of stress and dealings with the supernatural.

--We'll figure it out--She promised, voice soft and gentle, cooing like the softest Rumble of the Ocean-- first you rest,then you concentrate on gathering your strength, then we can see what we can do

--Youre always too Kind to me-- He whispered,voice Weak and broken-- I have no right in disturbing this peaceful life you made for yourself

--Shut the fuck up,Jon--jerico stated,voice firm and yet always loving-- Youre my boyfriend and this is not your fault--She promised pulling away a little to wipe off his tears. But the liquid falls down her thumb to her palm, they pool like water dripping from a stalactite. 

He sees her hold his tears in her hands, he soon stops crying as Curiosity takes over.

The water moves on her right palm, pulling and stretching as it struggles to acquire a form. First, Its a cat, that licks its paw and then does a little dainty walk to her pointer finger, then it becomes liquid again as it slides to her left palm,where it becomes a small octopus that waves at him.

--What...are you doing?--He asked.

--Distracting you,is it working?-- she asked with a knowing grin.

He lets out an annoyed,flustered groan-- oh my god

--Yes,dear?--She asked and he glared at her. The octopus waves at him one final time before It dissolves into steam.

Jeri giggled with joy and gave him one final big hug,he hugs back and sinks into his embrace. She pets and plays with his hair,humming softly to calm him down.

--My baby, my baby

You're my baby, say it to me

Baby, my baby

Tell your baby that I'm your baby-- she sings softly, he sighs under his breath and begrudgingly scoots to sit on her lap.

Jon rests his head on her shoulder,hearing her sing-- I bet on losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

I'll be there on their side

I'm losing by their side

--if youre telling me youre always by my side, you made it explicitly clear-- he announced,not loud enough to disturb her singing. He wanted to Keep listening,but he was going to be a hardass about it.

--Will you let me, baby, lose

On losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down-- she keeps singing,ignoring her boyfriends brisk attemtps at playing tough guy.

She humms the rest of it, and slowly he falls asleep,emotionally and physically tired. When he goes limp in her arms, she lays him down and kisses his forehead.

--sleep tight, love-- jerico muttered softly, love in her voice that is as soft as silk.

Then,she returns to the kitchen, where she makes a cup of tea for herself. Whilist thinking about everything that has happened, her ears catch the jingle of bells.

By instinct she looks at her side and finds a New door on her kitchen, she already knows who it is and she doesnt care for a visit from a fellow eldritch being.

Yet the knocking starts, soft and then loud,loud enough that it might wake up Jon. This is what makes her Open it, "Michael" as he went by these days, couldnt enter her home (see: her realm) without her permission,hence why she opens the door instead of him.

Michael can only stand at the entrance, leaning on the door frame with his tall,too long of a body. His long hands and fingers Stretch into an unconfortable length And his grin has too Many teeth.

--well,afternoon Antiquarian-- He said,voice playful and sing songy-- why the sour face?

--Your presence--She replied without much thought.

--Tsk Tsk-- Michael scolded-- that the way to receive a friend?

They were barely Friends,mind you,she liked his proclivity to mischief but drew the line at murder-- what do you want?

--Just to check up on you--He replied,sounding so sorry for his friend who gives him a cup of tea which he gladly takes-- after all,ive heard youve been dealing with some rather heavy things

She rolls her eyes and drinks from her own cup-- things yalls lil war has caused, mind you

--Ah well, side effects I suppose-- he backtracks as soon as she glared at him-- I mean,unfortunate of course

--Youre here to revel in my pain then ill kick your ass back to your ugly ass endless corridor-- she bit Back like a pirana,  voice sharp like fangs and her growl echoing the breaking of stormy waves.

--Im only here to deliver advice,Entity to entity-- He stated-- Your love for the archivist makes you weak--

--Gee,thank you for the advice,leave-- She interrupted, going to the nearby kitchen aisle to fix up a few maganizes Back on the little spot she puts them at.-- and it doesnt,by the way

--Youre choosing a side-- he continued,a little annoyed-- Wether you like it or not,youre Siding with The Eye

--Tell the eye and The Spiral and The Web or how Many of you fuckers are there, that you can shove that war up your asses, I do not care for it-- she tries not to tip her hand but he already knows what shes trying to say.

Theres a brief, unconfortable silence, Michael hasnt moved an inch-- you really do love him,dont you?

She sighed--You already know the answer

--you know,Ive always admired that about you--She turns to him and raises a brow--I mean it! I really do! Youve always had more heart than any of us. Its impressive

He watches the corner of her lips twitch into a tiny,Tiny,smile. He chuckles and adds--Ah,theres that smile I like to see

--Im on jons side,get it through your thick spiraly head --Jerico stated, leaning on the kitchen aisle,arms folded-- ill stop this war,or if it happens, ill make sure you all dont damage this precious world

--Im sure you will--He finishes his drink and sets the empty cup on the entrance of the door-- thank you for this by the way,you always make the best tea

She finally cracked and chuckled a little-- okay leave,shoo begone

He nodds--Okay,okay im leaving. Good afternoon,antiquarian-- Michael said,walking into his endless corridor and closing the door.

--Goodbye,Michael

Jerico puts the two cups on the dishwasher and leaves to Open up the bookstore.

There was a war coming, but Jon wouldnt have to face it alone. She was there with him,even if he lost