#also this took longer than i imagined

[jarvesque]

A reunion

[shroomerr]

omg kahl broflobster !?

[thatdeadaquarius]

Have some more language brainrot for your brainrot

Writer reader getting kind of insecure that even if they write something nobody will understand it, so when Al haithem askes you if he can keep a draft or two just for analyzing, there's hesitant agreement but ultimately you tell him to please burn the documents once he's done. They're too awkward to look at now...

Only he doesn't burn them, in fact he ends up recruiting several people close to the creator with knowledge of olden speak to analyze them. A funeral parlor consultant well known for his historical knowledge, a 500 year old shrine maiden who owns and runs her own publishing house, and a bard who somehow butted his way in on the project. None of them could resist the opportunity to witness the creator's sacred scriptures with their own eyes.

Needless to say, the papers ended up being fought over and have been making their rounds around your acolytes. It started with Ei, who insisted that as an archon she also should see the creator's work with her own eyes. Then once Ningguang found out, she ordered they be handed over to a team of literary analysts in order to be properly handled and deciphered. Things got really messy quick, but have luckily come to a halt as none of the acolytes want the creator to know their random writings are being fought over.

Especially when it comes to the creator's sullen additute. Their acolytes first have to convince their holiness that their inability to read and understand the creator's writing shouldn't prevent you from doing what you love. In fact... could they convince you to write some more?

WRITER OR READER WITH TALENTS HAS MY WHOLE HEART LIKE-

On one hand, same 💀 id be terrified for my all time fav skrunklies to see my bs

But at the same time i rlly wanna show them goddamit- THANK U FOR THE BRAIN FOOD IM RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY HOUSE THINKING ABT THIS-

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them), Writer!Reader

Planet: Language Shenanigans

Orbit: Scenario

Stars: Alhaitham mostly, some of Kaveh, mentions of other Sumeru characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Insecure about craft/writing, anxious first pov (not serious),

& Trigger Warnings: Mild Negative self-talk, insecure perspective/reader “you”, possible anxiety depiction.

You were not a very confident writer.

This had been an avoidable feeling ever since you picked up a pen for the first time and were asked to write a story for school.

You were always anxious turning in essays, letting friends proofread them, anything that would expose your writing to more eyes, because you’d learned the hard way early on that as you get older and better at something, the stuff from the beginning… starts to look a lot different than you remember.

things you used to be proud of after having completed them in the moment, were something you struggled not to rip to shreds a year or two after you re-found it.

If it weren’t for other writers advising holding onto old work so you can see your progress over time, you’d have probably literally nothing older than one year on your ao3, wattpad, etc…

So when you had the fortunate luck (no it is not unfortunately, you are very happy to be here tbh) to fall headfirst into your video game you’ve been obsessed with lately,

You were not planning on showing them any of your writing.

Why would you, after all? You’ve got the weapons, the artifacts, everything they need to be more powerful. Why would you show them a silly little story you wrote? Fanfic or otherwise, not that theyll recognize any characters besides themselves, but still.

Alhaitham, bc ofc it was alhaitham, cocky, deviously aware bastard he is, caught you writing in your spare time first.

You’d gotten your hands on an old journal (if made you feel better than something completely new, a nice worn leather journal, sold at a secondhand shop from an old adventurer) and had started to write what you could remember about some of your ideas you’d had drafts for in your old world

After initially walking in on you writing in the House of Daena (it was the closest you could get to lofi girl, god u missed her lmao), you nearly jumped a foot in the air bc Haitham’s a nosy bitch and leaned over your shoulder and scared the absolute shit out of you, mans goes from asking politely, to begging you to let him read some of your writing over the course of 3 weeks (a month really)

Finally, after this 6 ft (about 180cm) man leans down one day (you’re sitting writing again), and gives you the most insanely good?? puppy dog eyes??? you’ve ever seen on a man???

you give in, revise a draft about 5 times in a row, lose sleep bc ur having a breakdown about alhaitham judging ur writing the night before you give him his copy-

and hand over a small short story for him to read. you specifically leave a little note not to judge you so hard for Haitham bc u werent used to people reading ur work/let alone someone as highly academic as him, ESPECIALLY since your speech is already so much more archaic than his/all of Teyvats-

His stupid green eyes with diamonds look into your soul (are they sparkling??) and he braces your shoulders after you give him his copy,

“Mine Greatest Guide, you hath deemed this one worthy of thy trust of your creations personally, I would be a fool to gaze upon it in jest. To take this work as anything less than a masterpiece in its infant stages.”

…you just leave him to it, and are nearly running out of there (u managed to be calm enough to just speedwalk),

and you make a point to not ask what he thought about it, or even bring it up at all

you’re kind of hoping he forgot tbh… and so nothing happens!

◇

Nothing happens… for 2 weeks after you gave Haitham a copy of your short story.

You still don’t know Alhaitham’s opinion when you see the advertisement, a sign saying something about, a new book? By YOU???

You nearly start a mob because the shopkeeper insisted you sign some copies, but you only signed a few before too many people overwhelmed you, and seeing it was that same draft- !! Oh god, you’d been agonizing over the spelling errors you’d missed when you gave it to Alhaitham, and now it’s just out there???

(luckily it seems the reviews are positive, but dammit you’ve been rereading ur story u gave him for days, and now ur positive it’s shit-)

You make a break for it, and are literally running (more like speed-walking after a while, since u got further away) thru Sumeru City:

you pass by the open patio of a restaurant, the scholars are heatedly discussing ur characterization-

you pass by Dehya, Candace, and Dunyazard, the merc is waving around a copy of ur book, the other two women look excited abt the conversation-

oh my god-

Nahida is relaxing in one of the many little gazebos thruout Sumeru, while Wanderer seems to be reading your story to her-

You fucking track down Alhaitham’s house like a bloodhound.

You are banging the infamous gay roommates’ front door, panting til ur throat burns raw.

“Yes, yes, alright, greetings to you too! I was simply visiting the Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, tis why I’m here- Greatest Lord?!”

Kaveh is nearly jumps a foot in the air at the sight of you, but recovers, (you’re still not tho lmao)

and invites you in bc apparently, Alhaitham’s been meaning to talk to you about your draft you gave him!

Oh yeah, you’ve got some words to give Haitham after giving him that damn draft privately-

But when he sees you, the fucker just- smiles??

Like he’s done nothing wrong???

You’re about to tear into him when he speaks first to tell you the good news!

He grabs your hands at the table and gets down on one knee, ohhhh no.

Alhaitham is giving you those damn begging puppy dog eyes again.

“My Greatest Lord, Giver of Power, and Guide to All, your exquisite story has entranced all of Teyvat, might I please insist you write a sequel? It is an excellent literary piece to analyze… or perhaps, even better, share other stories you’ve written??”

…

….Motherfucker.

☆

Hello I’m alive! I just took a longer-than-usual break between posts from those last 2 mammoth pieces about gifts,

1: bc they were a lot to write in between writing other stuff like fanfics im already working on lol 2: I got busy with holidays and trying to apply to jobs!

Not that I’m still not doing that.. but you get what I mean!

Safe Travels Anon,

That being said, as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve made a kofi! so if you ever liked my writing (hot mess it is) and want to show me some love, feel free to leave a tip! :]

Iced coffee?? :0

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche

[its-elioo]

Smokescreen, Wheeljack, Cliffjumper and Ultra Magnus

Tfp Autobots are done!

[redgearsmovin]

a redraw lol. i just think dave's expression looks funny

[solaestial]

Ghost Strait - TadanoCo

(song translation)

[luminousjellyfishy]

(Click for better quality)

GUYS IT'S A COMIC

I CAN MAKE COMICS???

APPARENTLY??

This is a scene from 'New Friends ^^' by @woaaahh-itz-caam and you should 100% go read it because it's awesome

OG text, no-words version, and fic link beneath the cut:

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[violetscanfly]

This has probably been done before but I haven't seen it so! Today I offer you Alien Stage except wangxian👽

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Brazilian Grand Prix - Jenson Button

[estrellami-1]

I've been itchin for some good old fashioned steddie hurt/comfort, maybe steve with migraines? I know its been written a lot, but its always so soft and loving

Okay so this took FOREVER but muse deserted me like. Two days after I asked for these prompts. I’m terrible 😂 but I finally feel like I have something, so hopefully this suffices!

Courtesy of my dad putting a meat thermometer in the car on a 110°F/43°C day:

155.5°F, y’all. 68°C. That’s hot, no matter where you’re from. I’m not from Indiana, so I’m gonna go a little easy on Steve and say it’s barely breaching triple digits where he’s at, but if anyone’s from Indiana and wants to correct me, then by all means, please do!

It’s the heat that finally gets him.

Steve can deal with rain, with snow, with wind, hell, he can deal with interdimensional creatures.

But the heat is what finally takes him out.

His ears are ringing, his head is pounding, his stomach is churning.

The kids are out in the backyard, screaming.

He’d been out there with them, supervising, playing, settling fights. Being the babysitter. But he’d overdone it, and now he’s stuck inside. Can’t move from where he’d collapsed into a kitchen chair.

He’s got a cold Coke can by his elbow that he snagged from the fridge. Contemplates grabbing it and holding it up to his forehead, but everything feels like too much work right now, and he shuts his eyes against the tears that want to come.

The back door opens just as Dustin begins screaming about something else, and Steve can’t hold in the whimper, or the way he curls in on himself.

“Shit,” someone whispers, and Steve hears their footsteps approaching. “Steve?”

It’s Eddie. He’s whispering. Steve’s never been more grateful. He manages half a nod, to show he’s listening.

“Can I touch you?”

Another half-nod, and he grimaces at his head and stomach yelling at him.

“Okay, hey, shh, it’s okay, don’t move. I’m just gonna grab your hand, okay?” He does, grabbing the hand Steve hadn’t realized was tugging at his hair. He holds Steve’s hand with one of his and with the other, rakes his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Steve leans over a little, closer to Eddie, letting out a breath of relief. “Squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no, okay?”

Steve squeezes once, and Eddie lifts their joined hands to his mouth, kisses the back of Steve’s. “Okay. Headache?” A squeeze. “More?” Another squeeze. “Stomach?” Squeeze. “More?” Squeeze. Pause. “Can you point to it?” He points to his ear with their combined hands, and Eddie hums. “Ringing?” Squeeze. “Dizzy?”

No squeeze. He’s not sure. “Okay, that’s alright. D’you want the coke?” Two squeezes. “Okay. If I get you some water, d’you think you can drink some of it?”

A hesitant squeeze. He can try, sure, but he’s not sure it won’t come right back up. Eddie squeezes his hand, gently places it on the table, and kisses his forehead before moving away, getting a bottle of water from the fridge by the sound of it. He comes back quickly, lays a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder and rubs it down his back for a second.

Steve sighs, bowing his head, and Eddie chuckles softly, placing the water down in favor of getting both hands on Steve’s shoulders. He squeezes and kneads his thumbs in, on either side of his spine, down to the middle of his back and up to the base of his skull.

He continues with the massage for a few minutes, until Steve’s practically melting onto the table, then drags one hand down his arm to his hand, taking it again so Steve can squeeze. “Did you take anything for your headache?”

A pause, because he’s berating himself for not thinking of that when it would’ve been the most effective, then two squeezes. Because Eddie’s perfect, he says, “That’s alright, Stevie, I know it’s hard. Let me get you something for your head. You want something for your stomach, too?” Steve could cry with how in love he is. He squeezes twice and hopes Eddie doesn’t notice the tear making its way down his cheek.

Eddie’s lips intercept it about halfway down. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, carding a hand through Steve’s hair again. “I know. You’re doing so well, Stevie, I’m so proud of you. The kids are okay, and I’m here to help for as long as you want me to, alright?”

One last squeeze before Eddie pulls away. Forever, he means, and the lips on his temple make him think Eddie understands.

He’s back in a few seconds with two pills. He hands them to Steve, but they’re small and he thinks he might drop them, might spill the water, so he presses them back into Eddie’s hand.

Another pause but Eddie understands a few seconds later and the pills are at his lips, and he’s opening for them, accepting the water that’s next, slowing down when Eddie murmurs. “Careful, slow sips. Just a little for now, you can do more in a minute, just let this settle first.” He pulls the glass away, sets it down on the table, and takes Steve’s hand again. “How about we go upstairs? Maybe take a bath? I think there’s some of that lavender oil still.” Squeeze, pause. Upstairs. Squeeze, pause. Bath. Two squeezes. Lavender.

Eddie seems to understand, thankfully. “Okay, no lavender. Want me to carry you up?”

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, Steve internally curses his parents for buying the biggest, grandest house they could. He squeezes once; even if he would prefer to walk, he’s not sure he can right now.

Eddie moves to crouch beside him, pressing another kiss to his temple. “I love you,” he whispers, lips brushing Steve’s temple still. “So much.” He gets his arms around Steve, adjusts a little, and counts down so Steve knows when he’s going to move. Steve loves him an insane amount.

Instead of saying anything, he loops an arm around Eddie’s neck, tucks his head into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and presses a kiss to Eddie’s collarbone.

Eddie gets him upstairs and in bed with minimal jostling. “I’m gonna go grab your water real quick,” he whispers. “D’you want the bath now, or later?” He quickly thrusts a hand back into Steve’s. “One for now, two for later.”

Steve thinks about it, honestly doesn’t know. Holds up a weak-feeling w to his chin. Water.

“Okay. I’m gonna let the gremlins know too, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Logically, Steve knows he will be back in a few minutes. He knows he’s in a sweat-soaked tank top and swimming trunks. But it’s somehow cooler upstairs than down, and his window is closed, and his head is pounding less, enough so that he’s falling asleep by the time Eddie makes it back up.

He startles awake when Eddie places a hand on his forehead, then winces when his movement causes everything to hurt more. “Shit,” Eddie whispers. “Sorry, baby, didn’t think you’d be asleep yet. Can you drink a little bit more water for me? Then we can sleep.

Steve frowns, lifts a clumsy hand to sign. Bath?

“Do you want one right now? Because I’ll go set it up if you do. But I think your body knows what you need right now and is trying to give it to you.”

Steve thinks it over, then agrees, asking for water again. “Yeah, of course, here, lemme just…” he maneuvers behind Steve, props him up some, and lifts the bottle to his lips. “Small sips, baby, it’ll be here later too, m’kay?”

Steve obeys, taking small, slow sips, tilting his head up when he’s finished. Eddie places a kiss on his cheek as he puts the bottle back on the table. “Go to sleep, baby,” he murmurs, laying them down. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Steve frowns, signs one more word. Kids?

“I let them know you’re not feeling well. They’re packing up, Nancy and Jonathan are gonna take everyone home. Robin threatened me with dismemberment if I didn’t tell you to call her when you’re feeling better.” Steve smiles. “Oh, sure, just laugh at a threat to me, what’s gonna happen when-” he splutters when Steve puts his hand over Eddie’s mouth. He grins, kisses his palm, and grabs his wrist, slotting his thumb into the pulse point. “Love you, Stevie.”

With the hand still held aloft, Steve sticks out his thumb, pointer finger, and pinky. I love you. And with that, he drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up, the little bit of light coming from his window tells him he’s only been out for a few hours. He takes stock of himself: his head still hurts a little, his ears aren’t ringing anymore, and his stomach still feels a little weird, but he thinks he might just be hungry.

He rolls onto his side and comes face-to-face with a sleeping Eddie. As he watches, Eddie’s brows scrunch, he mutters something, and he stretches out, one arm creeping across the sheets towards Steve. His hand pushes against Steve’s chest a few times before he mutters something else and wraps his arm around Steve, pulling him closer.

Steve can’t help it. He grins and kisses Eddie’s forehead, so in love with this dork he’s just about shaking with it.

Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch again and his eyes flicker open. He smiles at Steve. “Hi, baby,” he whispers, sleep-rough. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better,” Steve whispers back. “Head still hurts a little, but it’s not bad. Mostly I’m hungry.”

Eddie hums, tucking his head under Steve’s and rubbing a hand up and down his back. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Steve hums back. “Feels good. I dunno. Think there’s any burgers left? Might do one of those.”

He can feel the face Eddie makes. More so, he can hear it in his voice. “You want leftover burgers?”

Steve lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s easy.”

“Stevie. Baby.” Eddie pulls back to press a kiss to his lips. “I asked you what you want, not what would be easy. If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Steve thinks about it, then starts laughing. “Honestly? McDonald’s.”

Eddie chuckles too. “Then McDonald’s you shall get,” he swears. “Wanna come with me or stay here?”

Steve’s brows raise in surprise. “I can get it, Eds.”

“I know you can. I’m asking if you want to come with me or if you’d rather stay in bed.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’d rather stay in bed with you,” he says, causing Eddie to smile.

“Ah, but we can do that after I get your food. You want your regular?”

“Yes, please. Think I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay. I think the sun might make the headache worse.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie soothes, standing up then bending over to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Be back soon.”

“M’kay. Thanks, baby.”

“Anything for my love,” Eddie grins, bowing before he walks to the door.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head at his boyfriend’s dramatics, shifting in bed to get comfy again.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when Eddie walks in, he blinks awake, stretching as he smiles at him. “Hi, baby,” Eddie whispers.

Steve wants to kiss him, so he does, sits up and drags Eddie closer, food all but forgotten. “Hi,” he whispers against Eddie’s lips. “Thank you.”

Eddie hums as he kisses Steve once more then pulls away. “Anything,” he says, and Steve knows he means it.

They eat in relative silence until Steve asks, “how’d the kids react when you told them?”

Eddie smiles. “They were mostly worried for you. I think Dustin was about to bust inside and demand why you didn’t tell him you weren’t feeling well, but then Nancy gave him a look—you know the one—and told him in no uncertain terms that they were going to leave you to rest and could check in on you tomorrow. So expect a call from him.”

“Or twelve,” Steve chuckles. “Speaking of, I should probably call Robin, huh?”

“Probably,” Eddie agrees, then grins. “Or I can think of something else we could do instead.”

Steve pretends to think about it, then leans in. “Robin can wait,” he agrees, matching Eddie’s grin with his own.

[kozachenko]

Feeling rather contrarian today :)

DISCLAIMER THE POSES ARE HEAVILY REFERENCED OFF THE ORIGINAL MEME WHICH IS UNDER THE KEEP READING LINK

[teastarfall]

woah no way team rocket in my little nightmares ii??? it’s more likely than u think

+ a bonus doodle :D

[giantkillerjack]

Dear horror youtubers who write video essays explaining and examining extraordinary works of horror that I deeply want to see and understand but will literally never be able to safely watch due to my own trauma - thus providing me with a way to learn from and connect to works of art that would be otherwise forever inaccessible to me,

I love you.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 7: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should go on a 5 day journey to find the Innkeeper's weird brother who studies animals, and show him the Suspicious Egg….

~

The next morning he wakes early, buzzing with renewed purpose, and also minor back pain from sleeping on old potato sacks.. After a meager breakfast of more free leftover scraps, the Innkeeper stops him before he leaves, giving him a few extra supplies for the long journey, as she can tell he doesn't have much. He packs up and sets out onto the road once again, crumpled sketchy map in hand...

He has a fairly uneventful journey for the first day - waving at the occasional other travelers as they pass, cleaning his boots in a nearby pond, stopping to eat some dumplings whilst watching the sunset, and finally setting up a small tent a short ways off the main path, resting with his cat by a dim campfire until they both fall asleep......

The second day, however, does not start as smoothly.. Only a few hours further down the road, he's met with a large barricade, guarded by a group of what seems like elven soldiers from one of the larger surrounding cities of the area. Practicing his confidence, he puts on his best "brave face" (which to others, appears more as some sort of pained wince, like he might have something in his eye), shakily striding right up to the authority figures he is definitely not afraid of.

"Halt, traveler! You cannot pass."

He sways slightly, struggling to keep his wobbly legs under control, "OH, y-yEAH, ssorry, I was-, hh, I was just walking, ~o-out for a stroooll~, haha, so I .. uh.. o-okay. That's.. okay. But, uh.. could, can.. euh.. C-can I ask why? like... why the, uh... blocking off.. of ... the um.. the-"

"Unfortunately, we are not at liberty to disclose any information on the nature of this current road closure. Our sole duty is to maintain security of the barrier."

"hhHeh, ye.. eAh, for sure, I-I get that.. Duty is.. really so... important in ... today's world.. gotta, um.. do the duties.. or, uh.. .. yeah, but.. so, uhhh... wh-Do you know.. maybe, uh... H-how long you'll, like... be here? guarding... and such...??"

"We'll be here as long as we need to be here."

"...O-okay.. but, like.. uh... any,,.... time estimate? hahahehhh?? like, uh.. a day, or... two, or um...??"

"This matter does not concern you, traveler. Move along."

"Aoh, yeahgh, I.. totally.. totally.. it, uh.. Well.. but it kind of does though,, right? B-because I do, in fact, actually have to go down that road at some p-point sssoo, um,... uh.. I-"

"I said move along."

The guard abruptly takes a step forward, causing The Adventurer to yelp as if he'd been hit, tripping over his own feet and scrambling off on hands and knees, lunging into bushes near the rocky roadside.. After exchanging a confused glance, the guards both shrug, resuming their stoic positions at the barrier.

The Adventurer watches from the uncomfortable safety of some berry brambles, surveying the area at a distance and desperately trying to work out how he can still get where he's trying to go. The map given to him by the Innkeeper is pretty straightforward, not showing alternate paths. Based on his primary map, he could maybe think of a few detours, but he's anxiously unfamiliar with the area... How should he proceed?

----

Additional Details - (I decided whenever he gets new items or goals or something, I'll list them at the end just to keep track)

items + to inventory (from the Innkeeper): 2 lunchboxes of vegetable dumplings, 2 canteens of water, a box of tea, one rope, 1 pouch of dried meat, 4 candles, a hand-drawn map

main goal: get to the abandoned castle ruins to see the rare animal specialist about the egg

[behold-the-griffin]

Ophelia slaps a clawed hand over her mouth as soon as the word exits it, the echo rolling around the extravagant and lifeless throne room that Balthazar holds court in.

He turns to her slowly, the bones in his neck snapping and twisting like rotten branches as he turns his pitch-dark eyes onto hers.

The heroes, bound like pigs for slaughter, shake in their armor.

She slow-blinks at him, unrepentant.

“A moment,” he hisses, the sound sibilant and menacing to anyone other than the girl he’s raised like a daughter, “with my apprentice, if you will.”

Ooooooh, that’s how she knows he mad. By now, after a couple years of this, she’s his colleague. Balthazar only demotes her when he’s pissed.

With a stomp of an emaciated hoof against marble flooring (mined with slave labor, of course, because a human life was worth less than a month of fair wages), the heroes vanish into a dark pit. Their screams cut off abruptly as it seals up behind them.

“Oh, bottomless pit trap!” Berrun, settled behind her like a massive scaly cat, cries out. Smoke begins to rise from his nostrils in irritation. “You couldn’t have done that thirty seconds ago, Darkwalker? I would’ve won!”

“But you diiidn’t,” sings Ophelia, before she can stop herself. A horrific gurgling noise makes her attention snap back to Balthazar, who is quite possibly foaming at the mouth from either rage or confusion.

She blinks at him again, this time innocently. The effect is somewhat ruined by her tail twitching in amusement.

Ophelia knows a lot of languages, but the noises Balthazar is currently making resemble none of them. -

“Bingo?” Balthazar finally manages weakly. “Why in the name of the Starry fucking Dark are you playing bingo right now?

Before Ophelia can even summon her twelve-point presentation on why Balthazar’s villain monologues aren’t effective, Berrun sums it up with dragonish bluntness.

“You’re getting predictable, Darkwalker.”

He partially rears and shakes his head in offense, his twenty-point crown of antlers nearly catching on the expensive-looking chandelier.

“Predicatable!” He nearly shouts. “How dare you! I am-”

“-wrath incarnated, darkness reborn. I am the lurking power that you’ve tried to convince yourself was not there but you never quite could-”

Balthazar falters at his sudden Greek Chorus of both Berrun and Ophelia, taken aback at their perfect word for word recall of his grand speech. Sure, it had been a month since he had come up with a new one, but surely-

“It’s been three, boss,” Ophelia drawls, stretching her wings. “I get it, we’ve been pretty busy, but there’s only so many games of tic-tac-toe me ‘n Berr can play before we get bored.”

Balthazar’s eyes flick down to the scorched and cracked marble. Suddenly, the charcoal marks on Ophelia’s fingers make sense.

“Look, it’s not like we don’t like listening to them-”

“Speak for yourself, Faeblood.”

“Shut up. Anyways, it’s just that the whole big bad evil monologue is kinda giving… evil vibes?”

It’s Balthazar’s turn to blink at her. “That’s the point,” he says, sounding a little lost. “Ophelia, we kill people.”

She flashes her fangs at him in a grisly smile, still tasting blood that isn’t hers in her mouth. “Yeah, but like, only if they deserve it.”

“I feel like I should be able to explain to you how that’s still wrong.”

Her ears twitch. She’s never been afraid of Balthazar, even on that day in the city, blood staining blue cloth maroon (gods, she’s never been more grateful for such a color before-), but a stellar and or stable moral compass has never quite been one of his possessions.

“You weren’t gonna kill those heroes, were you?” she challenges. “Just scare the loyalty out of them and set em free. That’s what you taught me. Catch and release.”

“Catch and release,” Balthazar echoes. “They don’t know who they follow. They never do.” He turns away from them, gaze empty and mournful. “You never do.”

Ophelia and Berrun share a look. Balthazar is spiraling.

“That’s stupid,” Berrun says bluntly.

Ophelia decides to be a bit more strategic.

“You’re the one who laid siege to a city full of rich assholes whose type was young and scared,” she says. “You’re the one who made friends who actively insulted you, called you terrible things just so you would stay humble. You’re the one who took in a Faeblood with a history of biting and a cartload of issues and you made her better.”

With every statement, she takes a step closer to Balthazar’s hulking and monstrous form. The smell of petrichor and rot and something uniquely Balthazar fills her nose as she lays one hand on his bony flank.

Ah, shit, he’s crying now. His tears in this form are thick and oily, and Ophelia only minds a little when one drips from his chin and into her hair.

“You’re my family, shithead,” she says, speaking past the lump in her throat, “and only I get to make you feel bad.”

Balthazar kneels so that he can better hug her. It’s not that great of a hug; his limbs are too long and his ribs are sharp and he does smell a little like death, but underneath of it all the connection between their magick sings.

“Maybe you should write the speeches from now on,” he mumbles, and Ophelia cackles.

“Not before we scare the shit outta those heroes, right?” she asks, a vicious glint in her eyes.

Balthazar’s started look tells her that he completely forgot about them in the first place. But he recovers wonderfully after only a second or two, and begins to cast the spell that will bring them back.

Ophelia returns to Berrun’s side. He nudges her side with his massive head.

“Sap,” he growls lightly as the heroes fall back into the throne room, still screaming their heads off.

And as Ophelia watches Balthazar bellow and bluster and generally make an ass of himself, she smiles slightly.

“Yeah,” she says, quiet enough that only Berrun could hear her, “I guess I am.”

You thought your minions were taking notes but when one of them yells "Bingo!" in the middle of one of your evil monologues to the captured Heroes, you're forced to re-evaluate things.