#I may destroy you spoilers
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egophiliac · 2 months ago
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I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?
I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.
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sunriseabram · 9 months ago
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Jean Moreau might endure but I fucking won't
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crazy-ache · 5 months ago
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Chapter 5 Update
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Summary: When Elain is unexpectedly transformed into a cat, Lucien thankfully comes to her rescue. Well, she would be more grateful, if he also wasn't so incredibly infuriating.
Notes: Rated T for language and Elain’s mildly dirty thoughts. This is pure fun. No posting schedule, no rules, just weirdness.
Read Chapter 5 on AO3
Elain is annoyed when Lucien disappears. She is in for quite a surprise when he returns hours later...
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movedtodykedvonte · 1 year ago
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I feel like Golbetty is gonna end up in Fionna’s world and try to destroy it to protect Simon since the Scarab won’t stop hunting him until the rogue universe is terminated.
And the last few episodes is Simon trying to get through to Betty about accepting their fates and remembering they will always love each other even if they can’t be together in the end. Sort of like pleading to her to not put him first.
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proffbon · 2 months ago
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Had to replay this choice two times due to extreme cases of 'He would not fucking say that'
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the-black-bulls · 2 years ago
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out of context meme based on the recent leaks
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TABATA DO YOUR ✨ WORST! ✨
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theflyingsealion · 6 months ago
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Thinking about him again. (Kazan Octopath)
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smewduck · 10 months ago
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#5 and/or #26 for the wip ask game? :3
woah i ended up rambling
5. What are the main themes?
I would say the main big one would be good+evil/moral ambiguity? I really like looking at morality in stories.. because of this reason I could name very few genuinely 'bad' cats in this story lol
plus whatever theme goes with some sort of corrupt system :] I love those (fictionally) :]
smaller themes like power, death, war, hate/love etc and these are all looked at specifically in context/influence of their little corrupt cat society
26. What do you still need to plan?
a whole bunch of stuff! there's many little plot issues that annoy me that I'd love to fix, the main two big things however are Rainpaw's character arc and the entirety of Part 3. um lots of text under the cut
Rainpaw's my main protagonist, he gets pov throughout all 3 parts but. idk what he's really doing. its hard to get him to the end point of his story because I'm not really sure what would change his mindset to get there? His ultimate job is to restore StarClan after like a year of anarchy (a plot problem in itself because I don't want to portray the downfall of a corrupt government-ish figure as bad lol that's a good thing) but he starts SL totally anti-StarClan in comparison to his Clan. Right now I'm kind of passing it off as the inter-faction conflicts he faces after StarClan's fall make him want to restore the Clans as they were supposed to be when they were formed, but I also don't want anarchy (? for lack of a better word I guess) = chaos because that's boring and kinda shallow in my opinion
WHICH LEADS INTO part 3 because I have the end of it etched into my soul but the rest of it is just everyone. existing. totally unplanned I have no idea what will drive the plot of part 3 yet. I want to explore the conflicts between the different factions that are created after the Clans fall apart so that may drive the plot for Petalclaw and Rainpaw/storm but as for Night? I need to plan what she's doing because her one goal is to destroy StarClan. Once she's done that (end of part 2), idk what will lead her to everything I have planned out for her at the end of part 3, which is again her vs starclan :/ it's like when Night is there but StarClan is not there is nothing driving her actions so I need to figure that out...
WOAH SORRY FOR ALL THAT BUT IT WAS FUN. sorry if it makes no sense... it distracted me from the worst history assignment of all time from hell itself so thank you for the ask! :D
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onewomancitadel · 8 months ago
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It occurred to me that the first name a new fan will hear for Solas is, well, 'Solas', his very first name, then they'll be told he's an elven god, but the second name that they'll hear is Chuckles.
A new fan is going to be wondering why the bad guy has a cute nickname.
In all these years waiting, I had no idea how they were going to humanize Solas to a new audience. I genuinely thought that they were not even going to try to humanize him to a new audience because people, especially people with no history, they simply do. Not. Care. About villainous-looking characters doing villainous-looking rituals.
But they DID it.
It didn’t even take that long. And they did it with a few techniques working together, but especially this one:
They made Solas’ problem your problem, and they made you make his exact same “mistake.”
I feel the tide of sentiment toward Solas has already changed. How could people be mad at Solas when the player you control decided to help, and by helping, they ruined things? He had plans that might have worked, and they might not have been nearly as bad, without you. So now people will look very silly about complaining about him, especially when he STILL has not told us his real motivation for starting in the first place.
I just can’t believe it. I knew that the main character of DA4 would have to take on Solas’ very valid responsibilities and worries that he STILL has not explained to us (a pet theory of mine was that it was called “Dreadwolf” for so long because DA4 is the story of you taking on Solas’ mantle and his horrible title and his horrible responsibilities and having to finish things for him.)
but I pictured that transfer would happen after a 50% boss fight with Solas. I think this may still happen, but now they’ve set it up very clearly from the very start. And I wasn’t expecting it. I think any newcomer would experience that conversation and be like “this guy seems reallly reasonable and noble in a way I wasn’t expecting”
gosh I’m so excited. The arc that this sets up even for new players!!! I thought new characters wouldn’t be able to enjoy Solas in the same way or see him like I do, but I underestimated Weekes’ writing.
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egophiliac · 11 months ago
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don't think I'm not still deep in the episode 7 brainrot. because OH BOY AM I
(also one more extremely, obnoxiously self-referential thing, I'm -- I'm so sorry)
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deathbxnny · 1 month ago
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Can I request angst for arcane characters x reader. Where they argued with each other and then later on reader is hanging on to dear life (READER SAVE ISHA FROM DEATH PLEASE! IM COPING-)
Arcane women with an s/o that dies after an argument. | Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn x Gn!Reader
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So I may have taken this idea in a more extreme direction, ahaha... Anyway, thanks for the great request and I hope you'll enjoy!!<3
(I'm sorry in advance-)
Content: Heavy angst, arguments, spoilers for season 2, established romantic relationships, blood, fatal injuries, sfw
Reader has no set pronouns.
((Not proofread))
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》VI
Your argument was a petty one. At least in her humble opinion, at least. She warned you not to push her too far, to not bring up Caitlyn when it wasn't needed. But you ofcourse refused to listen, and it ended in a full-blown screaming match she wasn't proud of. You were just looking out for her, scared she'll lose herself under the bright lights of the fighting pit and the flashing bass of the clubs. The alcohol consumption was destroying her, too, and you wanted to get her out of this hellscape.
You were always so kind and patient with her, something she was always so grateful about. So why did she tell you that she hated you? That you were overbearing? That Caitlyn was far better than you ever could be? She didn't know. She really didn't.
And any apology she may have had died on her tongue when you ran out of her dingy little showroom in tears. Oh, how her heart ached at the sound of YOU apologizing for not being good enough. The clarity of what she had done hit her like a truck then, making her finally see what she had become.
The shame made her turn even worse, your warnings and pleas feeling undeserving to follow. Days turned into weeks, then months, and she eventually forgot all about everyone... except for you. The image of your brokenhearted figure haunts her at every moment. Especially her dreams.
So when Jinx came to her for help, she saw it as a sign. She needed to apologize and get you back. She was desperate for it. She couldn't take it any longer without you. But alas... karma was an odd thing. Instead of hitting her like she wished, she found you being the victim of it instead. Whatever God was out there must've hated her terribly.
You were fighting with the Enforcers during the invasion of the Noxians and the Herald. Battle was never your strong suit, but you were never the type to back down from anything. Especially not when it came to the defense of your home. You had the option to leave. In fact, Caitlyn was the one to give you it. Yet, instead, you grabbed a uniform and headed to the Frontlines at her side. You were always so loyal, so goddamned good.
It was, therefore, not surprising that you threw yourself over Vi when she was being shot at. You had only briefly seen each other before it was time to move, and you gave her a welcoming, weak smile that made her heart hammer against her chest. She wasn't deserving of you. "Why... Why the fuck did you do that?!" She yelled over the sound of chaos above her, when she was finally able to get you somewhere safe. Giving her a bloody grin, you flinched a little at the pain in your chest, an arrow protruding from it. The crimson liquid drenched the blue of your uniform and Vi's palm that she desperately pressed against it. But there was no hope. It was over.
The gods wanted you dead.
Placing your hand over hers, you stopped her frantic movements with a chuckle turned cough. "I... I'm sorry-" "-Stop apologizing! I should be the one doing that! I'm the reason this all happened, I... I'm so fucking sorry." Her tears dropped onto your face, and you reached up with the last of your power to wipe them away. You couldn't breathe anymore. Your heart was beginning to fail, and the primal panic set in in the face of death. Intelligible words spilled out of your mouth, not making any sense to anyone but you. You wanted to tell her how much you still loved her.
But with a deep, rattling breathe your suffering was finally over, and your hand dropped to your side limply. Vi could only stare at you in horror, unable to say a word anymore, before she was dragged away by some Enforcers. She tried to fight her way back to you, yet there was no use.
The last thing she saw was your body being covered by debris from the falling ceiling.
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》JINX
You and Jinx had gotten into an argument in the Herald's weird compound over Vander's well-being. Whilst she, too, didn't trust Viktor, she ultimately had no other ideas on how to turn him back to normal. And that's all she really wanted. She wanted her father back so badly that she and Vi were both too blinded to see how odd this entire thing really was. And it didn't help that you were worried about Isha's safety too.
Everyone here felt too robotic to be human. They didn't have real emotions or motivations other than what their leader had already preached about. It all felt superficial and lifeless, like they were husks and empty shells of people. But alas, you were the only one who saw it. Everyone basked in the warm sun and heavenly aura, never daring to glance into the darkness around them in fear of what they may see. The people that were "healed" didn't seem really healed. And you wondered if the Herald himself was blinded too.
Either way, it led to a huge argument in which you asked her to get Vander and everyone else rounded up to leave immediately. She was confused at first, but it started to frustrate her how you couldn't understand how much this meant to her. This was the first step to freedom and having her family back. A family she always wanted to have with you. Jinx got a small taste of that with Isha around now and never wanted to lose it again. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something really bad was going to happen if you didn't get out of here now. It ended with you both going your separate ways for the time being, mainly because you refused to argue in front of the poor small girl.
You avoided each other like the plague in the compound, and Jinx ignored you out of pettiness when you tried to reconcile. The safety of the family you've created was also important to you. More than she'll ever understand. But alas, no one could convince the blue haired girl of talking to you again. Not Vi. Not Isha. Even Vander tried his luck by slightly pushing her towards you. She always took everything so personally. So much so that her stubbornness often caused the death of others she cared about.
And just as she thought that she might have finally escaped that fate, the world had to once again prove her wrong.
The Noxians were attacking, wanting to get ahold of Vander, who had gone crazy and aggressive in response. Calming him down was impossible, and fighting off an entire army of trained warriors even harder. Jinx was panicking, trying to look for you and Isha in the dense, chaotic crowd, until she saw the small girl sprint towards the crazed Warwick with her gun in hand. She was quick to understand what she was trying to do and attempted to stop her, but Vi held her back. But the girl wouldn't die today. No, at least that part of her wish would come true, as she wouldn't lose her family today... just you. Her entire world.
You came sprinting out of the masses, practically tossing Isha into safety as you grabbed the gun from her. Aiming it up at Vander, things slowed down around you when your eyes met Jinx's horrified ones. Her screams echoed in your mind whilst you mouthed "I love you" to her and pulled the trigger, hoping that everyone made it out safe in the end.
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》CAITLYN
The funerals of the deaths that were caused by Jinx's actions were all cold and grim. All of them evoke deep hatred in Caitlyn, who now stood at her last one, most guests having cleared out by now in grief. Looking back, she wondered when everything went wrong. After careful analysis, she came to the conclusion that your argument sparked most of the events in a way.
You were feeling betrayed by her lack of presence in her relationship ever since she and Vi had a mission to complete. She never let you in on what exactly they were up to, and she now realises that it was wrong of her. Cait could see how you might have thought that she had something with Vi that was never there. Sure, she was a pleasant company, and the only thing she had in very dangerous moments... but it was never more than that. She was a friend and that's it.
You, on the other hand, were her betrothed, the person she swore her life to and wanted to marry in the coming spring. Her mother had always approved of you two and practically pushed her to the next step, especially at how close she was with you. Cassandra had adopted you as your mother in law from day one, to say the least. And yet... she had disappointed her with the way she yelled at you to get a grip. Caitlyn was so stressed and exhausted in that moment that she couldn't think straight and let it out on you. Something she regrets deeply, perhaps even more than never being able to tell you how sorry she was now.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder, her mother’s stern, yet sympathetic expression greeting her. "It's time." She said, confirming the closing of your casket. Yes, this was your funeral. You had thrown yourself on top of her mother once the ceiling came crashing down. She lived with minor injuries whilst you were crushed by the debris. It was all so fast. Your reflexes were impressive as always. And it cost you your life. You were dead. Gone. She still couldn't believe it, even after gazing at your body for hours on end now.
The rage and anger turned into unspeakable hatred, one she could never shake for as long as she lived. She'd get her revenge one way or another. Even if it means to burn the entirety of Zaun down in your name to achieve it. But instead of voicing it, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well." She whispered, not trusting her voice anymore. The guilt was eating her alive, and she couldn't help but sway a bit on her feet at how nauseous she felt. You were always so scared of the dark and tight spaces. This was your worst nightmare, and she couldn't stop thinking about how scared you must've been in your last moments. Her mother said that you cried out Caitlyn's name before you stilled.
And so, as the casket's lid began shifting over your cold, stiff body, she stretched herself ever so slightly to catch last glimpses of your slumbering expression.
She may never forgive herself... but she'd make the undercity beg for her forgiveness instead. It was time for justice to prevail at last.
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a-little-ray-of-fantasy · 1 year ago
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An analysis on how Sir Pentious' character design represents his personality and development perfectly (beware of Hazbin Hotel spoilers)
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Let's get this out of the way: Sir Pentious is a snake, an animal mostly known for generally believed negative traits such as poison, deceit and betrayal. We don't know WHY he's in Hell, maybe he was a "snake oil salesman" considering he comes from the Victorian times and he's into hyping up what he does, or maybe he was into war. Thing is, he's a Sinner whose design just scream "Evil".
(BTW, a snake could also represent "fertility": looking at you, Egg Boiz!)
He always had eyes all around him not just because of a stylistic choice.
Sir Pentious always felt like he was watched, and had to watch out for any danger.
"Everyone here is too nice: obviously it must be a lie! I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when?! HOW?! I must be PREPARED!"
Sadly, he's been constantly berated by other demons, far more effective in destruction, status, cruelty and charisma. Alastor won't ever bother to remember him, Cherri always ones up him, and the Vs, the ones he admires to most, won't care less about him.
To the point that Vox sent him as a spy without the intention to save him if things were going to fail. Heck, he even openly tells him to die while calling him a failure.
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So of course he's got reasons to have trust issues, or taking everything so seriously, being constantly reminded of what he can't accomplish. So he puts an air of grandure that may be very flamboyant, but is VERY frail.
But, if we have to be frank here, his biggest source of insecurities... is himself.
He has eyes on his tail (his softer, more vulnerable side, which is ironically made even MORE lieable to getting hurt because of how sensitive those organs are), and inside his hood, so he could look out better for danger when on alert mode.
Heck, even the mark on his hood kinda resembles one eye.
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Problem is, when you see his hood folded, when he's at ease, neutral or sad, those are not looking at outside sources.
They're looking at him, at his back. A constant stare that happens everytime he lets his guard down and shows how vulnerable he is. A gaze that can sense all of his weakness, his struggles, his insecurities.
And it's all him.
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Pentious constantly believes that his inferiority complex will fade away once he'll accomplish something grand that will make others accept him. But he is his biggest critic, his worst enemy: HE is the one who believes he's a failure, that he'll never gain approval from others.
This show takes place in Hell, but this is Sir Pentious' personal Hell: insecurity born out of self hatred. Doomed to feel everyone's gaze upon him, including his own. Believing the danger to his self esteem is from others, when it's really from him.
But then he's accepted at the Hazbin Hotel: Charlie forgives him, he bonds with Angel, Husk and Niffty who don't care a bit about what he's accomplished or not, or what he's done in the past.
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He feels more comfortable in showing his vulnerable side, and no one judges him for how easy it is for him to get emotional.
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Of course he's still very insecure, considering how he struggles to confess to Cherri, but notice how he stops building machines or planning to attack others as soon as he starts bonding with the others: he doesn't have a reason to destroy or attack, now that he knows he's loved.
And his final design, when he goes to Heaven, shows how much he's changed, yet stayed the same. He may have died a hero, but he's still the same awkward snake we've come to love.
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Speaking of love, let's talk about that!
No more eyes on his tail, now it's just on his chest (showing he's opened his heart), his glasses are now heart shaped, and even the markings inside his hood resemble kiss marks more than anything else.
And look: the mark on his hood is now heart shaped!
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Why all these hearts? Why did all the eyes disappeared from his body? Even his eyes that were looking at his back?
Simple: love. Love defeated his insecurities and self hatred. He died for love.
He died protecting his friends, his new family, his new home.
He confessed and kissed Cherri knowing full well he wouldn't have made it, and yet he went anyway.
The usually cowardly and timid Pentious actually faced a great danger with courage and determination: he acted selflessly by putting himself in harm's way, he didn't steal (naturally) and by going against Adam he did indeed "stick it to the man"!
He used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.
His only thought up until his demise was: "I'll go down protecting them".
And he's been rewarded not only by becoming an angel, but also being spawned directly in front of Emily and Sera, two Seraphim, the highest rank for an angel to have, who have also been depicted as snakes of fire throughout history! Sir Pentious, the lowly demon considered a failure by everyone, actually has been noticed by the Seraphim! He's come so far!
He's now come to represent the REAL symbolism of a snake: the duality of death and rebirth, transformation and immortality (ironically a reference to the fact he's been around since 1888 without ever dying from any Extermination or blessed weapons).
And isn't so poetic that a snake, the "source of the original evil", was the first sinner to ascend to Heaven? Or that this episode was released on February 1st, or National Serpent Day?
And of course, as the Bible itself says:
"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."
(John 15:13)
And knowing him, I'm confident in saying he'll keep helping his friends even in his new position, like the soft hearted noodle he's always been, but was to afraid to show it up until now.
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asleepinawell · 2 years ago
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me wearily opening twitter: please show me just one nice thing for once
twitter: baldur's gate 3 lets you fuck a bear
me: you know what? good enough
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An old feeling (and obsession) | In-oh x Fem!Player!Reader | PT2
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PT1
Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - May be OOC - Obsess In-ho - Player 095 lives!! - Anxiety - Sad!Reader -
Notes: Welcome to PT2 if you come from PT1. I decided to divide this piece since I think the ending of PT1 was good but I also wanted to add this too. However I was not 100% in with how things were going in PT1.
This can be read as a stand alone piece.
In-ho wondered once more when his plan went south. His main goal was to destroy Gi-hun and show him how human nature never changes. He was not prepared to meet you, and for you to become so important to him in such a short period of time.
He did wonder if you had a secret on you, just a few hours you were still suffering from the Migle game but now here you were besides him shooting with rage at the guards, his guards.
Fuck did he feel conflicted cause each guard that you managed to kill did made him feel proud of you. Even if you were leaving him short-staffed alongside player 120.
"In-ho you copy?" Gi-hun's voice came from the radio. He took it out and responded then listened to the shoots and his ask for backup.
"Alright im going" In-ho responded screaming to the rest that Gi-hun needed backup, two players were quick to accept.
He took notice on how you stopped, you were still scared but then you also nodded
"Im going too"
"Alright, I will be going first you three follow me" He said then whispered to you since you were closer "Dont put yourself in front unless I say so"
The four of you advanced around the corridors he knew so well but had to fake he did not.
Finally they crossed paths with Gi-hun and Jung-Bae.
"I think we can go around them" In-ho lied to Gi-hun who accepted and gave him a extra charger.
In-ho guided all of you, making you stop or advance, making sure you were safe away from any suprised shoot.
Finally the four of you stood behind the guards, In-ho moved his head signaling the three of you to advance but you had to stay besides him.
He knew what he had to do, but did hurt him deeply, he could just wait that you wont hate him too much.
The shoots sounded so close to you that took you off guard, then you saw In-ho pointing his riffle at you, his face void from any emotion.
"In-ho..."
"Im sorry (Y/N)" Was the last thing you hear then you felt the back of the riffle on your head knocking you out.
He held you so you wouldn't hit the floor, he took the radio to make Gi-hun think all of you were indeed dead then changed channels and told his guards to put a end to this.
Near him a door opened, guards coming from it one of them saw your body and went to shoot you only to be stopped by In-ho stern voice.
"Take her to the infarmary, no one touches her, if I see even one hair out of place you will be responding directly to me, do you understand?"
The guard lowered their gun and nodded going to carry you.
In-ho saw your limp body be moved towards the infarmary, he knew no one would question his orders. He was more afraid of the outcome once you wake up.
"Sir" another guard called him with his clothes of Front Man at hand. He let out a breath, whatever the outcome was it would have to wait.
He still needed to punish Gi-hun and move on with the games.
But one thing was clear in his mind.
No one would hurt you, you were going to be safe.
Safe besides him.
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impactrueno · 2 months ago
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let's talk about shoes (stick with me here for a sec)
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beetleboots beetleboots beetleboots.
what's up with the three of them wearing combat boots? they go well with each of their character designs so it's not like they look out of place with the rest of their outfits, but knowing this is tim burton and colleen atwood, these things are not mere coincidence.
(spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice below)
a common complaint i've seen people mention about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that "there's too many villains," but today i'm here to talk about why each of them matter in the narrative tim wanted to present here. yes the boots are related we'll get to that in a minute
delores, rory and jeremy all have one thing in common: the use of romantic betrayal in order to achieve their own selfish goals, destroying their victims in the process.
this, in turn, makes beetlejuice, lydia and astrid have another thing in common: they were the victims of these romantic betrayals.
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you may think "okay but why is that necessary?"
this sequel made the interesting choice of nudging beetlejuice out of the villain role. he's now just a weird ally/deuteragonist...or perhaps even...a protagonist? but that's not enough! why should we as an audience care about him or sympathize with him?
that's where delores comes in. delores is less of a character and more of a plot device. her purpose (besides serving cunt) is to give beetlejuice backstory and be to beetlejuice what beetlejuice was to lydia, only worse. i talked a bit more about it in this post. thanks to her, we now learn that beetlejuice was a victim. not just that, she's also the looming threat beetlejuice needs to justify his marriage to lydia (he seems to be under the impression that this would help him escape delores more easily, but personally i'm not so sure, i think she's more powerful than that.) her return in combination with lydia's return to winter river is what sets his plan in motion.
rory is a pretty self-explanatory villain so i don't think we have to go into that. he wasn't out to kill lydia...but he's a golddigger, so i don't doubt he would've set something up to lead her into having a fatal accident and claim insurance benefits.
jeremy's role in the plot was to make astrid realize that she was wrong about the supernatural, as well as put her in danger in the afterlife, which is the drive lydia needs to turn to beetlejuice for help.
the role of an antagonist is to oppose or be an obstacle to the protagonist's goal. these three are the three obstacles beetlejuice needs to overcome in order to marry lydia.
first, he needs to save astrid as part of the deal with lydia. so he gets rid of jeremy to give astrid her life back. he knows exactly what it's like to be romanced into a death trap. you can tell this was satisfying for him. later, fucker.
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then, he needs her fiancé rory out of the picture if he intends to marry lydia. since he knows this guy is a total piece of shit and is lying to her to lead her into the same trap he himself fell into with delores, he simply gives lydia the tools she needs to kick his ass herself. teamwork!
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third comes delores. he just needs to survive delores, basically. he tries to pair her off with rory to try and kill two birds with one stone, but the stone that ends up killing them both is the sandworm that astrid summoned, which beetlejuice then guided straight to them. teamwork once again! (beetlejuice and astrid got rid of each other's problems, that's kind of cool)
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these three things being taken care of means that beetlejuice can finally marry lydia.............
............except he doesn't. why? because he helped lydia. by bringing her into the afterlife to look for her daughter, he violated code 699. and he did it immediately after signing that contract. hoist by his own petard, this dumbass.
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sorry i got sidetracked again. we were talking about boots, right? right right.
beetlejuice, lydia and astrid all walked in each other's shoes.
everything in this movie comes in threes. names, villains, victims, obstacles and pairs of combat boots.
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purple-plum-petals · 3 months ago
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Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!
⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader
╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯
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Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 
Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 
Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 
You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 
The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 
You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 
What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 
It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 
You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”
The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 
You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”
He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”
Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”
“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 
Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??
After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”
He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 
It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 
“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”
You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 
Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”
“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”
“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 
“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”
He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”
You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 
After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”
Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”
“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 
“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 
“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”
“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 
“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”
He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”
“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”
It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”
“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 
Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”
Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 
“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 
Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”
“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”
“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 
You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 
Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”
“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 
The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 
Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 
Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  
Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”
There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”
“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”
“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.
Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”
You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”
There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”
“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 
“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 
“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 
You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”
Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”
You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”
“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”
You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”
“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”
You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 
“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”
“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”
“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”
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