#i am horrified of my own creation

[finnbin]

what have you done

if bart painted his nails he would pick a very bright hot pink

WHY DID YOH SEND ME THIS

[arolesbianism]

I may be failing my plan to not make any isat aus. So there's this guy her name is Euphrasie right. What if I took her and combined what could be 3 separate au concepts into one. And in the process forced myself to go back and reread a bunch of shit to make sure I know how to maximally fuck over this sad wet puppy of a woman

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Annular Eclipse ଓ♱˚⋆

A long time ago, I binge-watched The Ancient Magus’ Bride and that decision came back to haunt me in my Church AU…… *evil laugh*

As always, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this piece!! And to my dear mutuals, I hope you all suffer enjoy the sinful story of Cartaphilus! Pierro x Angel! Darling ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Tw:: yandere, blood, violence, death, suicidal ideation, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 5.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns, with a unique fate reserved for the one who goes by the name of Pierro.

♡ After the Cataclysm, Pierro led a group of survivors to Snezhnaya where they established a new home. For three centuries, it was a peaceful haven hidden from the divine gaze of God and the Church…until it was exposed by a traitor and destroyed with manmade flames. In the ensuing chaos, Pierro was the sole “survivor” in the sense that he managed to escape. The rest were critically wounded, buried alive, and left to suffer for all eternity.

♡ Having lost his second home, Pierro began a search for other Khaenri’ahns, only to be further disillusioned. Many communities had also fallen to ruin, if not from persecution but by their own madness. Others, blinded by dreams of death, had resorted to violence and witchcraft in their fruitless attempts to break the curse. And several individuals had embarked on quests for the Tree of Life, only to disappear far away from their homeland. In two more centuries, Khaenri’ah was reduced to a forgotten myth, and Pierro had lost all hope for his people.

♡ So when he gets into an accident, he sees no point in saving himself. If he were younger, he’d be horrified at the thought of falling off a cliff. At best, he’d end up with more scars albeit another permanent reminder of his tragic fate. As for the worst-case scenario, he’d become paralyzed, trapped below the cliff, doomed to eternity as a living corpse. But now, hanging off the edge by his fingertips, he considers the possibility that his head takes the brunt of the impact. A coma would be the closest thing to a reprieve from his waking hell.

♡ Just as his grip weakens, a hand reaches out and catches his wrist. The action is so sudden, so forceful, that Pierro has no time to think before he is pulled up and his back hits the grass. Above him, eclipsing his view of the sun, is the face of a stranger. A tearful expression. A kind gaze that seems to pierce through his soul.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call for help?! You poor thing, I’m sorry for only seeing you now.”

“I am…” He averts your gaze and instead focuses on the sky. It is the color of twilight—a harmony of blues, oranges, and reds that pale in comparison to the crimson skies of his nightmares. “...fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

♡ Once the shock wears off, Pierro takes a careful look at his savior. You have the appearance of a typical human, roughly the same age as he was when his body stopped aging. Definitely not a Khaenri’ahn, given your lack of cursed marks and star-shaped pupils. Neither are there any religious symbols on your clothing, which is a relief. As for your tears shed on his behalf…he’ll chalk it up to pity.

♡ At your insistence, you treat him to a meal at the nearest inn. When Pierro introduces himself as an ordinary traveler, you make a similar claim and suggest journeying together. It is a tempting offer—the both of you are alone with no destination in mind, and you seem harmless. So against his better judgment, Pierro accepts your proposal.

♡ Over time, he warms up to his new companion. You are kind, competent, a bright presence in his life. Traveling with you is like seeing the world with new eyes—you lead him to bustling cities, picturesque forests, places teeming with life. The only downside is your visits to the Church for prayers and chats with the local priests, but you at least seem to be an open-minded believer. You always tell Pierro that he doesn’t need to follow along but he does so anyway, if only to evade suspicion and admire the religious art with you.

♡ Other than that, you don’t reveal much about yourself. But you aren’t one to pry into Pierro’s past so he gives you the same courtesy. At times, he finds himself looking at you fondly, feeling a spark of physical attraction, dreaming of a happy future with you. But those delusions are always dashed by the fact of your humanity, so he instead resolves to cherish what little time you have left before death claims your soul.

♡ That was his goal until he begins to notice certain…oddities. It’s common for the two of you to share a tent, a room, sometimes even a bed. Neither of you are fazed by it, especially when Pierro’s main concern is concealing his cursed marks with makeup. But a few months into your travels, he makes a quiet realization: In those nights of shared slumber, not once has he fallen asleep without feeling your gaze on him.

♡ At first, he assumes that you merely sleep later and wake up earlier than him. But every time Pierro wakes up in the middle of the night, you immediately sit up and tend to him, acting as energetic as usual. Neither do you appear lethargic after nights when it is difficult to sleep. So he puts it to the test by regularly chatting with you late into the night; you always follow along, not once sounding tired nor in want of sleep. Once, he talks to you all night long and in the morning, while Pierro is plagued with fatigue, you look perfectly awake. And only when he subtly points it out do you yawn and go back to bed.

♡ Other mysteries follow. There is the time the two of you trekked through a barren wasteland and ran out of food. It took you two days to reach civilization and while Pierro was starving, you never complained about hunger. If anything, you still managed to walk and fight off beasts at your usual energy levels. And on the rare chance that Pierro is injured, you are the one who treats his wounds…and they always heal at an unnaturally fast pace.

♡ A year into your travels, he decides to look for answers. One night, he shares a bed with you and feigns sleep. For the next few hours, he just lies there and takes note of your unnatural way of sleeping—no slowed breaths, no involuntary movements, yet the persistent feeling that he is still being watched. Shortly after midnight, he pulls out a dagger from under his pillow and aims it at you.

♡ It was only a test to see if you’d react quickly and reveal your ruse. Which is exactly what you do, eyes fluttering open and your hand catching the dagger before Pierro can stop short of stabbing your chest. The look on your face is calm, utterly devoid of fear, and you make no move to leave the bed. You just stare at him with the same piercing gaze.

“Good morning,” you tell him. “Are you going to explain the sudden wakeup call? I don’t believe this is rooted in any Khaenri’ahn practices.”

At the mention of his homeland, Pierro’s grip on the dagger tightens. “So it appears that my suspicions were not unfounded. Answer me, are you a spy of the Church?”

Your answer is a benevolent smile. A soft light shines from your body as a halo—silver, pierced with nails—appears behind your head, followed by a wispy veil. Luminous wings emerge from your back, caging Pierro in a feathery embrace.

Your hand, marked with a bloodstained scar, wraps around his wrist.

“I’m your guardian angel,” you whisper.

♡ Technically, your statement is untrue. In a calm voice, you explain that Khaenri’ahns can’t be assigned guardian angels due to their immortality. Moreover, most angels harbor contempt for his kind though you are a rare exception, having taken pity on Pierro and chosen to become his unofficial guardian. The last part triggers an offended response—are you mocking him?

♡ As for your true nature, you’re the leader of the Archangels. As an angel of the Third Sphere, you are one of the closest to humanity, a divine messenger with the additional tasks of providing blessings and guiding humans towards the path of righteousness. Only, you’re currently on a ten-year “break;” it just so happened that you noticed Pierro at the start of your sabbatical.

♡ Once he is confident that you won’t smite him in cold blood, he goes to sleep—it’s been a long night and fatigue will only dull his senses. When he wakes up, he can almost believe that last night’s events were a dream…until you loom over him in your true form, wishing him a good morning. After a long conversation, he decides to continue traveling with you. That way, he can keep a close eye on you and gain some useful knowledge.

♡ Thus resumes your journey. In addition to Pierro’s distrust, there are major changes to your dynamic. You still travel in your human guise but you switch to your true form when it’s just the two of you. Since angels don’t need food or sleep to sustain themselves, you stop eating with him unless you’re in public. At night, only one bed is needed and you simply watch over Pierro, wishing him a peaceful slumber. Your gentle gaze is always the last thing he sees each day, though it takes months before he can fall asleep comfortably.

♡ He also learns about your nightly pastimes. As it turns out, while Pierro is asleep, you like to fly around the city to help lost souls. Just small acts of kindness in your human form…and if needed, divine interventions in the Church. It explains why he often wakes up to news about corrupt priests who experienced “visions of an angel” and publicly confessed their sins.

♡ Along your journey, you also stop by the homes of the humans previously assigned to you. At the beginning of each visit, you go to the cemetery and speak to their grave. Afterwards, you bring Pierro to their favorite places and reminisce about their lives. When he asks why you can’t simply see them in Heaven, you give him a sad smile and explain that the deceased reside in a realm beyond the jurisdiction of angels. In a paradise where every soul is purged of sin, what use is there for an angel’s guidance?

♡ You mourn the lives of angels as well. It comes as a shock to Pierro, the idea that even an angel is susceptible to death. To which you explain that many of your divine siblings were killed by demons. And because afterlife does not exist for spiritual beings, both species simply cease to exist once their lives have ended. As for your former brethren, they cut all ties with you after their descent.

♡ Slowly, Pierro grows to trust you again. It helps that you were able to prove yourself a year later by saving him from your own kind. Granted, he could suspect that it was merely an act but the sight of a Principality cowering before you, their cassock staked to the floor by silver nails, is quite convincing. Not to mention your cold gaze overflowing with wrath.

“So tell me. Why exactly did you attack my dear human?”

The room is silent, save for the younger angel’s whimpers. To think that a few minutes ago, Pierro had been sleeping peacefully. Now he stands beside you, blood trickling from a cut under his scarred eye, still gripping his unused sword.

“I…” Despite being a rank above you, his attacker is clearly terrified. “But ______, that man…he is one of the accursed sinners! He—”

“Now, now.” You kneel to their level but all kindness is lost in your tone. More nails appear out of thin air, all pointing towards the angel’s body. “Look me in the eye when I am talking to you.”

♡ In the end, the angel kneels before Pierro and begs for forgiveness. He accepts their apology, but not without harsh words and a swipe of his sword against their face. After they leave, you worriedly turn to Pierro and heal his injuries. Thanks to your powers, all of his wounds close up without a trace. Still, when you take your hand off his face, what he sees in the mirror is not his healed cheek but the cursed marks exclusive to Khaenri’ahns.

*✧･ﾟ

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Despite the nature of the attack, you are the one acting emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek as you trace the cursed side of Pierro’s face.

“You need not apologize on behalf of your brethren,” he mutters. He glances at his right arm, sleeve pulled up to reveal a similar pattern of blue veins and blackened skin. “...or your Heavenly Father. And I believe I’ve told you countless times not to waste your tears on me.”

“Still.” Shaking your head, you look him in the eye. “How can I not cry every time I gaze into your soul? I wish I could save you, put an end to your suffering…but it’s beyond my capability.”

“So why do you still devote yourself to me, ______?”

______. It is the false name you go by in the human realm, spoken by every person who has known you as their guardian angel. As for your true name, it remains a mystery to Pierro.

Still, he’d like to believe that he is the human who knows you best. He knows that you are the First Archangel, one of the oldest beings in existence. He knows that you were opposed to the Cataclysm but powerless in stopping it. He knows that your decade of rest was caused by an accumulation of stress, an endless cycle of giving and saving and sacrificing which will only continue in a few years’ time.

And what then? At the end of your journey, will you still have time for him? Or is he truly cursed to drift aimlessly in eternal solitude?

His half-mask rests on a nearby drawer, a relic from his second home. He picks it up, thumb pressed against a painted gold tear.

“You astound me,” he continues. “You, of all people, know that salvation is forever beyond my grasp. And yet you continue to spare me absolute grace. Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause.”

“That is because I love you.”

At that, Pierro nearly drops his mask. He turns to you, starry eyes wide with wonder. “Can you kindly repeat that?”

But the moment he sees your face, he realizes his folly.

“I love you,” you tell him, a soft look in your eyes, “as I love all humans.”

Has kindness ever sounded so cruel?

“...I understand.” He puts down his mask, pride shattered. “Such is to be expected from a being for whom the love for humanity is inherent.”

A love which he and his compatriots are no longer beholden to.

“But of course.” At that, your countenance turns reverent. Your wings fold inwards, and you place a bloodstained hand over your chest. “An angel’s purpose is to serve God and to save His creations. Beyond that, there is no other point to our existence.”

Silence. This time, Pierro doesn’t bother to hide his judgment.

“Well, that is our initial reason,” you add, noticing his expression. “After all, what’s not to love when your kind is capable of so many wonderful things? Really, you never fail to surprise us.”

“How so?”

“I’ll confess, many of us angels were once in awe of Khaenri’ah,” you admit. “Think of it: Your people found a way to create life, sorcery, powers that were once exclusive to God. Had I met you during your days as a royal mage, I surely would have been impressed.”

Hard to say. Despite his previous status, Pierro hasn’t practiced Khaenri’ahn sorcery in years. It’s likely that his powers have eroded alongside his spirit.

“Then only a century after the Cataclysm, there was the Angel-Killer who performed miracles using our flesh. As a matter of fact…I made the mistake of assigning his first victim to him.”

Your grief isn’t lost on him. The bed creaks as you take a seat next to Pierro, adjusting the chain of mourning lockets around your waist. It bears mementos of both humans and angels.

“Thirteen angels lost their lives to him, including two of my dearest siblings. Needless to say, we were all relieved when Il Dottore finally died, though I had to be given a century’s worth of rest to recover from grief. Sohreh, Pasithea, Oizys…I still think of them to this day.”

Il Dottore. He is an infamous figure in history, a priest whose sins rivaled those of Khaenri’ah. And yet even he was granted the mercy of death.

 “And there are the humans I was blessed to watch over,” you tell him, eyes shining with tears. “I remember all of their names, their smiles, every achievement they made in their short lives. And I’m sure that there will be more in the future.”

That is the final nail in the coffin.

“You are right.” With that, Pierro leaves the bed. “As such, there is no need for you to dwell on how the world is now. I have no doubt that many souls owe their salvation to you, ______, and anyone would be a fool to dismiss your efforts.”

“...Thank you. It means a lot.”

You don’t let him leave, however. A hand around his wrist is all it takes for Pierro to stop, to yield to your embrace. In the dim room, you are the only source of light, an idol of unparalleled benevolence. Divine, beautiful, yet never within his reach.

“Eight more years,” you tell him. In your eyes, his reflection has never looked more hopeful. “That is the amount of time we have left. And until then, I will never leave your side.”

*✧･ﾟ

♡ The next eight years are content. More travels. Deep conversations. Peaceful nights. Another angelic encounter, in which a subordinate merely reported to you and avoided Pierro’s gaze. At one point, you reveal to him that the Tree of Life is no longer in the human realm, eliminating any hope of breaking the curse. His devastation is softened by your comfort, and he can only imagine the reactions of his compatriots if they knew this truth.

♡ Not that he has anyone to share it with. In the Church of Fontaine, Pierro is surprised to recognize the head priest as a Khaenri’ahn. She is only a descendant and thus spared from the curse—a blessing for Arlecchino, a tragedy for her ancestor who likely mourned the generations between them. After their chat, Pierro leaves without divulging her lineage. It’s enough to know that one of his kind is leading a fulfilling life, though he finds it ironic that a Church ended up in a Khaenri’ahn’s hands.

♡ Other than her, there is the familiar face he spotted in Inazuma. Blond hair, blue eyes with star-shaped pupils, a distinctive half-mask…but before Pierro can approach Dainsleif, you grip his wrist and enable him to see the eagle-winged demon clinging to his former comrade. In a fearful whisper, you explain that she is one of Hell’s strongest demons, the slayer of countless angels. And when she turns in your direction, Pierro feels the weight of her crimson-gold glare. In the end, the two of you walk past them, preventing what could have been a bloody reunion.

♡ As your sabbatical reaches its end, Pierro finds himself making the most of your remaining time together. He smiles at you, holds your hand first, asks you more personal questions. Your travels also end in a surprise destination—a forest near Snezhnaya, concealed with divine mist. Leading the way, you explain that it was a meeting place for you and your closest siblings until they all perished, including the Virtue who created it. And when you turn to Pierro, asking if the area suits him…he accepts the gift with full gratitude.

♡ The last year is spent constructing a humble house in the heart of the forest. On the day of your departure, the two of you enjoy a final meal together. It’s bittersweet with recollections of your travels, though the mood dampens when Pierro asks about your angelic duties. With a sad smile, you tell him that you have a lot of work to do. At some point in your journey, you even laid eyes on a young human and applied for a position as their guardian angel.

♡ At midnight, Pierro goes to bed and you wish him good night for the last time. He only closes his eyes when you disappear, when he no longer feels your gaze on him, when the residual warmth of your embrace has been chilled by the night air. When he wakes up in the morning, you are nowhere to be found.

♡ In the following months, Pierro develops a new routine in the forest. Hunting, foraging, visiting the neighboring cities, admiring the aurora-colored sky, even practicing his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. He doesn’t see you again but there are hints of your visits—a luminous white feather, seeds for fauna exclusive to Mondstadt, a wound that healed overnight. Eventually, he gets used to sleeping in solitude again.

♡ One day, he decides to visit his old home. He knows it is futile to seek out his people; after two centuries, their bodies must’ve fully decayed and mixed with the soil. Still, he might as well see what the Church did with the area…and if he can take revenge on the traitor. So he packs his bags, leaves the forest, and travels to the other side of Snezhnaya.

♡ …There’s nothing left. When he reaches his destination, he finds a glorious city built over the mass grave of his people. Only the cold of eternal winter welcomes him back, but the entire city—the devout Snezhnayans, the stories of the city’s origins, the magnificent church in place of his old house—is unfamiliar. Not even the traitor remains. Perhaps they, too, were given a coffin, forever trapped below layers of ice and concrete.

♡ He gets an answer on his way back to the forest. Near the border of Snezhnaya, Pierro is ambushed by a group of heretics…and when he demands an explanation, their leader holds up a preserved eye, the pupil shaped like a four-pointed star. As their fight continues, Pierro deduces their motives—to achieve immortality using the flesh of Khaenri’ahns. It’s pure mockery to hear those fools refer to his curse as a blessing, but his warnings fall on deaf ears as he is outnumbered.

♡ Just as he is about to lose hope, a bright light shines above him. It’s you, in all of your angelic glory, commanding the heretics to let him go. Most of his attackers fall to their knees, in awe of your divine presence, but their leader interprets it as a sign that Pierro is truly the person they’re after. They swing their sword at him…only for their entire group to be impaled by your nails.

♡ It’s a bloody sight. But once your wrath has subsided, you fly down to Pierro and check his condition. You’re incoherent, healing his wounds with trembling hands, apologizing for your late arrival. He assures you that he is fine, only to be interrupted by a sudden ray of light. But this one is blindingly bright, coming from the sky, the same holy light which shone upon Khaenri’ah during the Cataclysm.

♡ It hits him just then: In harming those humans for his sake, you’d violated one of God’s orders. Yet in the midst of His divine wrath, you muster a false smile and tell Pierro to go home. Then you fly up into the sky, disappearing above the clouds along with the holy light. He does as he is told, but not without killing all of the heretics to ensure that they won’t come after him or more Khaenri’ahns. As for the traitor…he doesn’t bother to ask for their location.

♡ The forest is the same when he returns. The next few hours pass by in a blur—unpacking,  checking the animal traps, cooking dinner, and so on. The whole time, he can’t stop worrying about you. He doesn’t know if God would listen to his prayers but he tries, anyway; it’s not like he can help you in any other way.

♡ He goes to bed early, only to jolt awake when a flash of light illuminates the bedroom. When he rushes to the window, it’s just in time to see a falling star. It shoots through the sky, outshining the auroras, a beautiful sight if not for the fact that it seems to be drawing closer to him. It disappears from his range of vision, followed by a deafening sound and a severe earthquake. Then the world falls silent, returning to its tranquil state.

♡ After a few minutes, Pierro leaves his house to investigate. Seeing how the meteor bypassed the divine barrier of the forest, he doubts it was a natural phenomenon. You once told him that the Fourth Order of angels, the Dominions, are in charge of the celestial bodies—could they have been ordered to destroy his third home?

♡ Thankfully, the destruction is limited to a crater at the edge of the forest. But instead of a meteor, he finds you curled up in pain. Fragments of your halo pierce your body. Your right wing is gone; all that remains of it are clipped feathers and sawed bone. Most prominent are the curved horns jutting from your head, covered in a mix of blood and torn skin. You became a demon.

♡ Your half-conscious cries prompt him into action. Carefully, Pierro carries you to his house and treats your wounds. When he notices your hand on your stomach, he remembers what you said about demons needing food and sleep to survive. So he heats up some soup and feeds it to you; and once your hunger has subsided, he tucks you in bed. In your delirium, you can only muster a single sentence before falling asleep.

“Pierro? I’m sorry…it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Silence. We may talk tomorrow. But tonight, you must rest.”

♡ That night, you sleep for the first time. Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often. When you wake up, the sun is high above the sky and Pierro has already cooked lunch. You’re more coherent now, able to feed yourself, though you wince in pain every so often. And when Pierro asks about your descent, your expression darkens.

♡ In a shaky voice, you explain that the heretics’ ambush had been a test from God. It was fated to occur at the same time as an important event in Heaven, the decennial meeting between God and the leaders from all Nine Orders. As soon as Pierro’s name was brought up, you were quick to defend him. And when you were informed of the attack, you stormed out of the meeting to save him, fully aware that it would bring about your downfall.

♡ And despite it all, you’re the one apologizing to him—for your late arrival, for the danger he was put through, for the “burden” of taking care of you. At the last part, Pierro finally finds the words to chastise you, to say that you won’t achieve anything by wasting your tears on Heaven.

“I wish you would not think so lowly of me. After all these years, do you truly believe that I would harbor anything but gratitude towards you?”

♡ That shuts you up. For the next few weeks, you meekly accept Pierro’s care—he cooks for you, dresses your wounds, lets you sleep in his bed. There is only one problem: Your body refuses to heal. Blood continues to seep from your wounds, and you’re in a perpetual state of pain. Still, he faithfully tends to you day and night. It’s the least he can do for you.

♡ One day, he leaves the house to pick fruit and comes back to find a dark silhouette in his bedroom window. He rushes inside, armed with a weapon, to find a demon. Only, they’re kneeling by the bed, holding your hands, shedding tears of joy. That is when he notices the bloodstained scars on their hands, their tattered veil, your kind words for them…they, too, are a fallen Archangel.

♡ All peace, however, is dashed when your former subordinate tells Pierro that they are bringing you “home,” in other words Hell. As for the matter of your health, they claim that while your divine punishment is unheard of, they should be able to find a cure…from Il Dottore of all people. And despite your conflicted expression, it’s clear that you are seriously considering their invitation. Only for Pierro to take that choice away from you.

“And what makes you believe that I would allow ______ to leave our home?”

♡ Prior to you, Pierro never would’ve dared to challenge a spiritual being. But now, after all he’s been through, he takes a step forward and tells the demon to leave. It doesn’t take long for their argument to turn physical. But before the demon can smite him, Pierro defends himself with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. They’re a formidable opponent, however, and the fight continues until he aims a galaxy-like aura at their heart. Quickly, you protect your former subordinate with a shield of rusty nails, only for the element to refract and hit you instead.

♡ Much to everyone’s relief, however, it has a different effect on you. Your feathers take on a black tint and a deep blue iridescence. The same thing happens to your horns. Most importantly, all of your wounds close up, leaving scars identical to Pierro’s cursed marks. And when he rushes to your side, asking if you are all right, you breathily tell him that you feel so much better.

♡ That is what convinces the demon to leave, but not without promising to return once they’ve informed the Devil. With peace restored in your home, the two of you go downstairs for lunch. You still need Pierro to support you, but it’s the first time you’ve managed to walk in your new form. And your appetite is bigger, healthier compared to your previous portions.

♡ After a few days however, the effect wears off. Your body loses its blue luster, your feathers fade to their original color, your pain returns. Once you’ve fully reverted to your original state, Pierro decides to try out his Khaenri’ahn sorcery again. This time, he holds your wrist and carefully channels his power into you…and it produces the same healing effect.

♡ For the sorcery which doomed his nation to save the life of his beloved…the irony leaves him at a loss of words, on the verge of laughing. But it does explain why you landed in Pierro’s home instead of Hell, and why God allowed the two of you to reunite. The knowledge brings a dark smile to his face. You’re at his mercy now, dependent on him for all eternity.

♡ When he faces you, he can tell that you’ve reached the same conclusion. Still, you entertain the thought of moving to Hell—surely, there must be a way for you to live without forcing Pierro to expend his energy on you. That is when he grips your hands, pulls you towards him, and tells you that you aren’t leaving him. If the two of you are truly fated to suffer, then it is only right that he returns all of the love you have given him.

♡ It’s easy to persuade you. After all you’ve experienced, you’re tired so you just nod and lean into his embrace. And in the following days, you slowly adjust to your new life. You help Pierro around the forest. A new bed is built, to fit two people. At night, the two of you engage in your usual bedtime conversations but you’re the one who falls asleep first.

♡ When your former subordinate returns, Pierro stands his ground. With you asleep, he is able to fight them outside and easily subdue them; he even had the wisdom to enhance his weapons with blood from your used bandages. And with his argument that any attempt on his life is equal to risking yours, they have no choice but to accept your situation.

♡ You’re still asleep when he returns to your shared bedroom. Careful not to wake you, he changes out of his bloody clothes and leaves his sword on the table, next to his old mask. Then he takes off his glove and traces your features with his cursed hand. And when you open your eyes, the look he gives you is one of pure hope.

“Pierro? What time is it?” you mumble.

“Far too early,” he replies. “Go back to sleep. I will join you shortly, ______.”

“...All right.” Yawning, you snuggle into the pillow and close your eyes. “Can you wake me up later? I don’t want to oversleep again.”

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “If you wish.”

It doesn’t take long for you to return to the world of dreams. Your sleeping face is truly a wonder to behold—an expression so tranquil, well-rested, vulnerable to his kiss.

“And when you awake, I want you to tell me your true name.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

..…Don’t ask me how Pierro ended up with the highest word count in this AU. All I can say is that it was very cathartic to make him suffer, which is a recurring theme in his fics. If y’all enjoyed his story, do let me know (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

Also, soft launch for the next couple + story!! I’m rlly excited to write for Dainsleif, and just know that he’s in for a lot of surprises <3

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @naraven @euniveve @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @mistymem0ryy @lazyroseart @teabutmakeitazure

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

post-s2. good omens mascot here, coping unhealthily.

This is the first proper post I'm writing since the audio breakdown, good thing I queued a POTC one last week, I suppose. Yes I slept through the entire day today, missed the theatre workshop I was supposed to attend and may or may not be listening to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square on loop. Have an update on my coping because my social life and family are both Tumblr now:

Every song is about them now. A lot were before, but now every single one. Even an old Hindi song from a 1900s Indian military movie that I have not watched, by the way. But the lyrics (thank you Google translate) are: Everybody wants a handful of the sky, everybody searches for a handful of the sky, there is a world waiting to be hugged to the chest, the moon is a fair full of stars, but this heart is still lonely. And of course that makes me think of Crowley as the starmaker. Ow.

I made the very intelligent decision to rewatch the first three episodes of season 2, knowing what the Job minisode and the Edinburgh minisode do to me. I'll be here clutching Crowley, well, hugging him close to the chest, just like that song... ah, fuck, here we go again.

I listened to you all and am drinking a lot of water, since my tear ducts were emptied yesterday and now I'm unable to cry. I also ate too much chocolate.

I searched for sad Aziracrow edits and watched them. Don't look at me. I'm in a hell of my own creation.

I used too many emotions last night and now I feel hollow and achy. Maybe I should cope with humour and write the summaries.

Or maybe that will backfire and I will be filled with horrifying levels of emotion.

I slept. A lot. Many hours. Lots sleep.

So. Well. You know. Adopted child of divorce. You were all right, this is exactly like dealing with a breakup or divorce, but much more painful.

Someone please, please, please stop me from clicking the Crowley whump tag to find fanfiction.

I remember my initial Good Omens posts. I remember calling the fandom sad, desperate, queer and masochistic, and also pointing out how you all blame Neil and then sit and make headcanons that are a hundred times worse than canon.

I was so right. Look at me now, sad, desperate, queer and masochistic, making headcanons that are a hundred times worse than canon.

Wahoo.

[aaaaaaaaaaaa-hey-its-jude-or-bee]

I forgot to take pictures of the update, I am so sad, I was on call and cutting it up and eating it that I forgot to take a picture of it when it was fully updated. Man.... It's ok it was very good, and my mom even went "it slapped" and I don't know how to respond.

I'm sorry it doesn't look appealing but that's how it did turn out, I was on call cutting and eating it like I said so I didn't get to take a picture of the updated pizza,

Holy fuck it looks huge, I swear it isn't it's just the way I took the picture.

I also don't work at any pizza shops too, or any bakery's. ☹️

Does everyone like the pizza I made?? I need to know because I was trying to message other family and they told me to shut the fuck up because they're trying to find my cousins cat

I added sauce from other can and then I added hamburger to it and I cut up other meat and cooked it and then added it to the pizza, we don't have butter so I put olive oil on the sides and then put herbs on the pizza and crust and then added salt on the crusts and when it's done baking I'll add the rest of the parmesan to the crust to make it look better, but I'm really proud of this.

This is it, but I put it back in the oven for another 15 minutes to go, so we will see how it turns out.

[hiiragi7]

Dissociative realities, meeting again and again...

Growing up, I never knew anything to be real. I lived in a foggy dream, reality seeming to be an abstract concept that I did not ever experience. It kept me safe and distant; if nothing is real, neither am I, neither is the horror I was living through. If it's all fake, then, nothing could hurt me - if even "I" do not exist, nothing mattered much at all.

My survival was pathologized a variety of things; diagnosed anything from Schizophrenic to Bipolar, finally Dissociative Identity Disorder. It didn't matter much what the doctors called it. They gave me pills for what they called a disconnect from reality, took my blood on a regular schedule within their all-too-white hospital walls, myself spending my days staring out at the world from behind thick glass while I stood on top of a plastic anti-suicide chair. All I could see from there was a parking lot, and yet I yearned for it; we were not allowed even short trips to the outside world.

How was I meant to be connected to a reality I was kept from? I could not understand it, and it only reinforced what I already knew; this reality was not my own, it was not one I belonged to. It was not my home.

I was born an artist, and so I found my most vivid realities somewhere in the space between my hands and my work. Here is where I found fragments of my own story, viewing reenactments through the eyes of others who never shared my name. I expressed it all through gory, twisted, horrifying tales. I did not know a happy ending, and so neither did my creations.

How ironic it was, that I knew these creations so intimately, the details of their selves down to their dominant hand, all the while with no concept of myself. Who are you? What do you like? What do you dislike? What does being alive mean to you? Questions I could answer in an instant for my art, but would struggle for a single word for myself. I was never good at introductions.

And yet, I was found introducing myself over and over, each time sure it must be the first time. My friends, too, introduced themselves back to me, although they knew this had happened many times before. This is something I will always be immensely grateful for.

I whispered, "I don't know you. I'm scared. Who are you? Who am I?" and my friends would reply in gentle tones, reassuring me, sitting as close as I would allow them. As I grew older, I met many others like me; others with DID, others who could not remember themselves nor others.

We found each other in a dance, meeting each other over and over again. You're my best friend, you're a stranger; I hold so much love for you I can barely contain it, I don't know you at all; We have so many memories together, I just met you today.

Over time, something shifted in me. I don't know you, and yet I know you are familiar, you are safety and I love you. I don't know you, and yet I have this sense we have known each other a very long time. I don't know you, and yet all I want is to be close to you, to talk to you until both our voices are hoarse. A deep knowledge grew in me, one which cut through my dissociation - an understanding that you are my best friend, you are my lover, you are a precious somebody to me even when I have lost the details, even when I have lost your name. I know you on a level I cannot put words to, and I love you.

This understanding then expanded to myself, to the individual fragments and pieces of me so long dissociated and unknown to each other. A love encompassed my whole being, and I could finally begin to know myself. I met myself over and over, much in the same way I had met those outside of me again and again. I began to understand, each of those inside of me is someone I have known before and will continue to know again, these someones are myself. I began to see their faces in my artwork, in old photos, in stories others have told me, and then even in my own memories.

Through loving others, I learned to love myself. Through love, I have found a reality which is not only my own, one to belong to; it is one shared with many others, it is community, it is everything to me. The love of those precious to me became my own.

[galadrieljones]

I don't agree with Solas about bringing down the Veil. I wanted to share, because I really enjoyed reading your piece about why you now agree. (I do not think he should be in Super Hell though)

I had a bad Dragon Age Discourse experience way way back in the day, though, and I am nervous when the fandom gets hot like it is now. I think people are feeling pain. Some of them are reading pain in what other people are saying and reacting. I know it hurts to be told I do not care about something I deeply care about, and I am conflict adverse at my core. So I am sorry this is anon. 1: Solas is right that the world needs change. but he is wrong that removing the Veil is the only solution. We see people live peacefully with spirits and the Veil in other parts of the world. He focuses on the Veil's existence because it’s what he knows and what he controls. His connection to the Veil means he can't see anything it resulted in as other than as his mistake, or as, an embodiment of his guilt. But not everything that happened after the Veil came up is "his" now. It is a world of its own, with sentient people who get to have a say in things. The Veil is not a marriage contract that two consenting adults made. The Veil is a birth certificate. You can divorce a spouse, but you cannot divorce a child, because once you have created something, it becomes its own being.

Feynite’s Looking Glass captures this with a ghost of Solas saying, "Sacrifice nothing that you do not own; and always remember that you own no one but yourself."

2:  if Solas truly believed his was the best path for everyone we care about, then he’d try to persuade others. Especially Lavellan. Instead, he pushes her away. He kills Felassan when he suspects Felassan might be too sympathetic. There’s not much detail about what happens if the Veil coming down, but Solas is determined to not have anyone raise questions, which makes me think he is not fully convinced he can answer them. He is Wise, but he is blinding himself on purpose because he is horrified by himself.

These are fair thoughts! Thank you. I am pretty sure I've made myself clear that I am open to many perspectives on this topic. I don't think any of the discourse that came through yesterday was "hot" or hostile or in any way emotional. It was measured, based on arguments and evidence, not "hot" emotions, and that's why it was enjoyable for me. I enjoy this discussion. I am not personally attached to or invested in what happens one way or another.

For the record, my original Solavellan fix-it The Dead Season, features a very similar argument to the one you laid out above. Solas chooses to repair the Veil and to live in the world of his own creation, as a mortal man, because that is what he decides is best for him, Sene, and the world they've grown to love. He casts his power back to the stars, and he becomes an ordinary (albeit still very powerful) mage who will live a normal life and die a normal death. As of recently, however, I am simply entertaining new points of view. This is because, after certain revelations from Veilguard, I now think they're valid, in a canon scenario.

Anyway, maybe it's just me, but I hope that nobody feels "hurt" by simple discourse, unless, of course, it takes the form of bullying or hostility, which is always inexcusable. I don't typically participate in these discussions to stir up emotions, but because I genuinely enjoy having them. I always try to remain measured and fair, and I as long as they're in good faith, I will always entertain notions that challenge my own. So thank you for sharing this with me today. <3

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Hello, I was the anon who asked the question about what all you wrote, I was just afraid of putting my name at the time. And there were so many choices, but I had to go with the one that has my heart at the moment and that is Rafael Barba for the Halloween themed prompt.

I was thinking of something along the lines of vampire Rafael Barba and female reader and NSFW(whatever you want, I am not picky)

I love your works and it was this page that actually got me falling in love with Rafael Barba

Thank you for your request and your lovely words! Rafael is my favourite character in SVU. I hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood and violence, vampire au, NSFW, tiny hint of yandere vampire Rafael, and a hint of angst.

Spanish translation:

cariño - sweetheart

The knock that sounded at your door was too rapid to be a child who was trick or treating especially since the children had already been escorted home by their parents.  Hushed voices discussed the rumours about the supernatural beings that inhabited this town as quietly as the autumn leaves fell from the trees onto the pavement below.

The townsfolk paid the rumours no mind; dismissing them as fanciful creations to amuse and scare the tourists that wandered through this time of year.

You wished you had that luxury.

For a second the knocking ceased.  Then it resumed sounding heavier and more insistent than before.  Sighing, you hauled yourself out of your chair and reluctantly moved over to the door, cursing whoever was on the other side.  You were comfortable in your chair with a blanket wrapped around you.

You pulled your front door open and barely stopped yourself from gasping in shock.  On the other side of the door stood Rafael Barba.  His normally vibrant jade green eyes were dull and his hand was pressed to his side attempting to slow the flow of blood.  Knowing Rafael as you did, you knew he’d be more annoyed about the damage to his suit rather than the injury.

Rafael’s legs wobbled and he swayed alarmingly.  He managed to gasp out an apology for disturbing you and explain that he didn’t know where else to go.  Pushing your own annoyance to the side, you darted forwards and wrapped his free arm around your shoulder so you could guide him into the house.  Before you crossed the threshold, you muttered out a quick sentence granting him permission to enter.

“Where does it hurt?”  You asked once Rafael was lying down on your couch.

“It doesn’t.”

“Liar.”  You chided.

“It takes one to know one,” Rafael fired back.

You rolled your eyes, “How was I to know that I am descended from an ancient line of vampire hunters without anyone telling me?”

Rafael let out a huff, “You expect me to believe that you didn’t know?”

The answer was written across your face and Rafael’s disbelieving expression morphed into a horrified one, “You really didn’t know.”

You confirmed his words with a nod of your head, “After you left, a vampire tried to bypass the permission thing.  He threw a rock, broke a window and tried to enter the house that way.”

“Tried to?” Rafael echoed.

“Grandpa was visiting.  He went to the broken window, made sure the vampire saw him and cool as a cucumber, Grandpa reached into his sleeve, pulled out an arrow and threw it through the window.  It hit the vampire squarely in the chest.  He crumbled into ash and after I processed all of those unexpected sights, Grandpa decided I hadn’t been shocked enough.  He chose that moment to fill me in regarding our family history.”

Some colour reappeared in Rafael’s face.  If you had to guess, you would say that the damaged skin around Rafael’s wound was starting to heal.  Pretty soon the vampire that was sitting on your couch would be fully healed and he’d have no reason to stay with you.  Not wanting to witness him leaving again, you stood up and turned away from him.

“I’ve learned a lot since you left.  One of the most important things is that if a vampire is given permission to enter, it can be revoked at any time.”

“Cariño...”

“You’re going to leave again.  I need to keep myself safe.”

“What if I didn’t leave?”

“You will.  Maybe not today or tomorrow.  A time will come and you will leave.  Vampires and legacies of vampire hunters don’t mix well.”

Unseen by you, Rafael swung himself around so that he was now sitting upright on the lounge and he gritted his teeth as his skin finished knitting itself back together.  Once the healing ache subsided, he stood up and carefully made his way over to you.  Part of him was grateful that your enhanced senses hadn’t fully developed yet otherwise you would have heard him approaching and Rafael didn’t want to think about all the places where you grandfather had stashed weapons around the house to protect you.

“Who says a vampire and a legacy don’t mix well?” He breathed, wrapping an arm around your waist and yanking you to him.  As he pulled you into his chest, he spun you around so that your eyes locked.

Your hands came up to brace yourself on Rafael’s clothed chest and the vampire bit his lip.  Your skin felt so warm and soft against him.  Memories resurfaced, reminding him what it felt like to have your body pressed against his so tightly that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

“Scholars and popular media,” you admitted in a whisper.  You were so entranced by Rafael’s presence that you completely forgot about your hands resting on his vest.

“Did you forget that I have a habit of proving people wrong?”  Rafael questioned.  His nose brushed against yours and he scanned your face for any sign of discomfort.  Needing to be certain in a low voice he asked if he could kiss you.

You uttered the nickname that you’d given him followed by a breathy plea for him to kiss you and his resolve crumbled.  The kiss started off slow and gentle however it didn’t stay that way.  Rafael had been away from you for too long.  He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip wanting access to your mouth.  When you granted it, Rafael immediately deepened the kiss.  At the same time, pride blossomed in his chest when he thought about the vampire and his coven who foolishly challenged and wounded him.  None of them would be able to come near you now.

Breaking the kiss, Rafael took your hand and guided you down the hallway and into your bedroom.  When you slipped into bed, he climbed in behind you and scooped you into his arms, “No one will harm you while I’m around cariño.”  He vowed as your eyelids fluttered and you slipped into the land of dreams.

Before Rafael closed his eyes, he swore to himself that he would spend the next few days worshipping you and demonstrating how he could use his enhanced abilities to bring you to the heights of pleasure.  Heat zipped down his spine and pooled low in his groin as he imagined all the filthy things that he would do to you.  He decided that the first kink he'd explore with you would be orgasm denial.

The thought of your voice begging for him to let you cum after he had brought you to the heights of pleasure only to deny you that final, sweet release caused Rafael's cock to stiffen.

“Who knows,” Rafael thought to himself, pressing a kiss to your forehead and your cheek before he rested his head on your shoulder and tangled your legs together, “spending so much time alone with me might be exactly what (Name) needs to strengthen her own enhanced senses.  No other supernatural being can match a vampire's endurance in combat or in a romantic setting.  But (Name) isn’t just an ordinary person.  She comes from a powerful line of hunters and maybe she’s the one the old prophecy referred to.”

[leggerefiore]

You catch on to your lover's plans to use a legendary to enact his ideals. You decide to act on your own to stop them by catching the legendary before them.

cw: angst, some fluff in certain pieces,

pairings: Lysandre/Reader, Cyrus/Reader, Maxie/Reader, Archie/Reader, Volo/Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ You would not say you were ignorant of Lysandre's more intense ideals, more so you just assumed they were his inner thoughts that he let leak out more so than probably he should. At first, anyway. It was not long until he spoke to you so confidently in your shared time alone about his plans to better this world and promising you that your future was secured as his lover. It was then, and only then, you made the horrifying realisation he was dead serious about his intentions. Especially when saw a new organization “flare” up. With what he intended to do, you felt lucky that you already basically knew everything you needed to in order to stop him.

☕️ That did not mean you were nervous breaking into a Team Flare laboratory and taking a certain pokemon that could bring about your death after it fully awoke to its power. A special pokeball was clutched dearly to your chest as you rushed away from everything in Geosenge. Without Yveltal, the ultimate weapon was useless. This effectively halted any of Team Flare's plans. However, you were certain that this would only drive Lysandre to search for it frantically rather than reconsider his actions.

☕️ Which is why you felt nervous as you watched him ruminate over a cup of coffee and a tablet in his café. He had ordered it closed for today to allow himself some quiet time, but you were well aware of what lay beyond a certain shelf in back of the room. Sitting beside him, you wondered how long you had until he realised it was you who had disrupted his plans. He put down the tablet and let out a sigh. The mood shift from after you took Yevltal had been apparent within him. With another drink of his coffee, he brought his arms around you. Your body was pressed into his side, where the aroma of both his cologne and his beloved drink wafted from him hypnotizingly.

☕️ “… Has something happened, Lys?” you asked him softly. He hummed before explaining the situation that you already knew all too well. His obvious disdain for the thief who dared try to deny his perfect world its timely creation. You tried not to shift too much, aware of the pokeball was tucked away into your bag just at your side. “That is… unfortunate…” you leaned into his chest, trying to hide whatever expression may cross your face. His hand came to gently massage your scalp. Then, he brought your gaze to meet his own.

☕️ “I know you have it, my dear,” he said with a harsh look, “I do not know why you took it, but I am certain it was you.” You froze. Pulling away from him, you look at him with widened eyes. How did he know? You thought you were careful to avoid being noticed by members or caught on security camera. He shook his head. It was obvious he had no interest in explaining his deductive manner. “Return the legendary pokemon to me at once, this charade has gone on long enough.” You shook your head as you quickly grabbed your bag to get away from him.

☕️ “I can't let you do this, Lysandre,” you protected the bag by placing it behind you, trying not to flinch when the giant man stood up to glare you down at you. It seemed that he thought this was simply you trying to garner his attention since he had been busy with his plans, rather than you seriously opposing him and his ideals. You soon found yourself rushing through crowds of people in Lumiose until you ended up on Route 16 through some panicked turns to escape. It was isolated and alone, with sand blowing heavily in the area and obscuring far sights. You could, however, see Lysandre approaching after you, unaffected by your run through the city.

☕️ He sent out his Pyroar with little hesitation, gaze trained on you. His annoyance was evident. “… Must you act this childish? I understand you find my plan reprehensible, but there is no need to go to such lengths for a simple disagreement,” his voice was strong even in the harsh environment. You could tell there was no getting away from this without a battle. Sending out the legendary itself, you could view the momentary shock on Lysandre's face. Maybe he had truly hoped it was not you that had taken Yevltal and that something had been lost along the way. “It seems we must be this way, then,” he sighed and ordered his Pyroar to attack.

☕️ Yevltal was the unsurprising victor in your battle against Lysandre. The pokemon's power was something completely undeniable, as it even tore through the man's Mega-Evolved Gyarados with relative ease. His distaste towards this outcome was shown as he marched towards you, ignoring the threatening visage of the Oblivion pokemon overhead. “Is this not enough to appease you? Why are you being so foolish? I only wish to preserve the beauty of this world!” Lysandre snapped at you, face twisting into something unrecognisable to the collected man you were used to.

☕️ You stood stiffly, daring to carefully opposing him, despite being slightly afraid by his obviously worrying mental state. “Lysandre, I'll give you Yveltal on one condition,” you spoke carefully, and his face changed to something inquisitive, “You allow me to die with everyone else.” Instantly it dropped again into madness. He grasped your shoulders tightly in his hands. Would he accept the trade? You felt almost certain he would choose his plans over you, sadly. His head hung down low while his grip became almost unbearable in its strength.

☕️ You had, at least, delayed the inevitable with him, amazingly. He refused your offer, instead calling you a fool once more and saying he needed to be alone for a while. You rushed to explain the situation to Sycamore not long after, who was mortified by the whole ordeal. It was going to be a difficult path to convince him of this world's worth, but you felt hopeful that you and the professor could do it. At least, you both had to do it.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ You wished to plead ignorance to whatever Cyrus was doing. You truly did. The idea that your stoic lover was running around Sinnoh in search of power to grant him the ability to make a new world was something that had been hard to grapple with. You knew of his issues, of course. You were not blind to them, yet you had not expected him to take it this far. Which is why you… intervened, so to speak. When learning he planned to use the legendary pokemon Palkia to enact his plans from a quick look at his laptop, you simply worked to move faster than he and Team Galactic in obtaining it.

☄️ Not that it was an easy task. It was extremely difficult and something you only managed by consulting a certain blonde with your intent to stop Cyrus. She seemingly understood your intention to be good. It felt bad going behind his back in order to end what was essentially his dream in a way, but you needed to stop him before he did something that would get him seriously hurt or possibly allow him to follow through on his desires. There was no way his belief that spirit was the root of issues would fix what was wrong with the world, not mention him personally.

☄️ It had not been too long since you captured the Spatial pokemon that trained steps walked up the platform onto Spear Pillar. You sat on the ground, watching the sky as it faded back to its natural state from whatever forcing Palkia into the realm had shifted it to. The newly captured legendary was now in a pokeball that sat on your lap. There was always the concern about Dialga, at least according to Cynthia, but you could easily come to counter with Palkia should that situation arise. Cyrus genuinely seemed shocked to see you there, halting in his approach and staring at you with an inquiring manner.

☄️ “How long until your admins get here?” you asked him with a somewhat playful tone. He likely ran here in a frenzy after seeing what summoning the legendary had done to the sky. It was something that his scientists had ready determined would happen more than likely. Cyrus looked over his shoulder and shrugged. Soon, probably. You stood up and moved to the blue-haired man with a genuine smile. He allowed you to cup his cheek and lean forward to peck a kiss on the other. Turning away from him immediately after, you felt him grasp at your wrist for a brief moment. There seemed to be some silent demand for an explanation, to stop you from doing whatever your next move was.

☄️ When he let go, you stood across from him in the acient ruins. Your hand rested on the pokeball which held the very pokemon he planned to use for his goals. “You probably know what I'm doing here,” you asked. He gave no reply. Cyrus either was not entirely sure, or possibly even hoped it was not what he thought. You sent out the legendary at his lack of reply. The Spatial pokemon soon stood tall among even the wreckage of the temple that used to stand at the peak of Mt. Coronet. Its cry piercing the air as it gazed around in confusion, still unsure at everything that had just happened.

☄️ Cyrus's eyes closed for a moment after seeing it, head lowering in deep thought. Then, he looked directly at you. “I see,” he said simply, “This speeds things along. Beloved, give me Palkia.” You froze. Did he think you captured the legendary for him? When you shook your head and demanded he stop his plans, a strange snicker came from him. “Are you intending to oppose me?” he questioned. You realised you were, as did he. The mood suddenly shifted to something extremely intense. A sigh came from him.

☄️ He reached for a pokeball on his waist and quickly tossed out his Houndoom. His arms linked behind his back as he harshly glared at you. “That is most unfortunate,” he spoke with slight displeasure, “Let's finish this quickly.” Cyrus was not a pushover, that much was for certain. You truly had not expected your opposition to be the factor that changed his mind. It has been something you would. Surely, his own feelings towards you must have been affecting him somehow. No matter what, you had to stop him, for everyone in this world and for whatever selfish reasons you held dear.

☄️ Somehow, with the help of Palkia you managed to overcome Cyrus's team. It was painful standing against the very pokemon you often doted on at home, but it had to be done to prevent his plans from being followed through. The man himself stood stiffly as he called back his fainted Weavile, his last pokemon. His gaze was fixated on the pokeball for a moment. Closing his eyes, he spoke again. “Palkia's prowess is certainly as expected,” he stared directly into you after he opened them again, “I knew you would fail to understand my ideals. That is why I did not tell you. This world is incomplete. It is in your best interest to hand Palkia over to me and allow me to create an ideal one.”

☄️ You shook your head and called back the legendary, holding the pokeball against your chest. The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. Either his admins or Cynthia with that international police agent were on their way up, likely both. “Cy,” you stepped closer to him, “Pain is just a part of life. Strife, too. You can't run away from that; you can't just erase it.” He turned away from you. It made you a bit nervous, but you embraced him from behind. “I know… You probably hate me now, but I'll always be here for you,” you promised with a tight squeeze.

☄️ Cyrus dismissed his admins after they arrived not long after and sighed when Cynthia appeared following them. She assured you he would be safe as she led him away. You could only wonder where everything would go from here. He had not said a word to you since you refused his demands. It was likely he would go to jail for what he had done, but you hoped Cynthia would prevent that. Until then, you clutched the pokeball tightly. Whenever you saw Cyrus again, you felt renewed passion to help him in a healthy way. You hoped to show him that emotions were something required in this life.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 It was a hard decision to make. Especially with how strange your sudden disappearance would be to Team Magma as you did what you had done. You wanted to support your partner with your whole heart, but you found yourself reading expected data ranges with more and more worries. Then, a certain pirate made contact about his concerns about what would ultimately come from summoning continent pokemon and gave you the Blue Orb with the trust you would find it of more use. It was even harder to actually make it to the Seafloor Cavern in order to capture Groudon without all the support Maxie had.

🪨 There was a certain wrongness you felt when awakening the pokemon with the borrowed Red Orb (of which you were certain had Team Magma in a frenzy in its absence). You quickly had to beat it with your pokemon and capture it before it could do the worst of what its abilities promised. Everything you had done felt even worse when you returned to the surface and placed the Red Orb back where you had taken it from. The following furor over its return only led to more confusion.

🪨 It was why you caught Maxie alone in your shared quarters. His attention was hyper focused on his computer while his fingers slid across the keys in a near hypnotic manner. Everyone once in a while, he would stop and readjust his glasses before continuing. With the Red Orb returned, the preparations to obtain the submarine and awaken Groudon were soon to be followed through. You can only imagine the turmoil that would follow at the missing legendary when they got there. The ball felt as heavy as Groudon's true mass was in your bag.

🪨 Finally building up the confidence to speak, you called out his name from the other side of his desk. His typing paused as he looked up at you with a cocked brow. You knew he hated being disturbed, but he was aware you would not do it without good reason. “How long until preparations are complete?” you asked carefully. He easily gave you the time frame of the coming days. You nodded. Closing your eyes, you let out a breath. “Can we… go out for a moment? I know you're busy, but I just need to be alone with you. Let's go to some place like… Mt. Chimney, please,” you begged. This seemed to catch him off-guard, but he ultimately relented.

🪨 The volcano never changed as you stood among the warm, arid rock. Maxie had agreed to visit the area with you as a quick break to refresh his mind. Standing stiffly, you motioned him closer to you. No one else was around the area. Picking up the heavy pokeball, you sent out the pokemon inside. Its cry reverberated through the mountain as its body instantly drew out more heat in the already hot environment. Maxie's careful demeanour broke at the appearance of Groudon. His glasses nearly fell off his face while his mouth hung open.

🪨 He quickly turned to you with a stern look, now fully aware it was you who had caused the mess with the Red Orb vanishing. “I am… between disappointment and gratitude. For one, you have made my job much easier, but you have also betrayed my trust in taking the orb,” Despite his words, Maxie took a step toward you and cupped your cheek lovingly, “It seems the Great Maxie was bested by his spouse this time.” You felt your heart race in your chest at the misunderstanding. Did he think this was some grandiose gesture of love? He caught on to your distressed expression immediately.

🪨 “You've misunderstood, Maxie,” you came to stand by Groudon, who leaned down to let you pet it, “I… I didn't capture Groudon to help your plans. I captured Groudon to stop them.” He looked utterly unamused by your words and shook his head. He was stuck somewhere between denial and annoyance. “Look, even Tabitha is rethinking all this! He made documents theorising about how Groudon's Primal form may result in termination of all water due to extreme heat,” you tried to appeal to his reasonable side. He only took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

🪨 “I ignore you both for one moment and my number two lets my partner run off with the Red Orb to get the very pokemon I need to see my plans through,” He put back on his glasses and stepped further away from you, reaching for a pokeball. Soon his Camerupt stood between you both. His gaze harsh trained onto you. “I suppose I'll just have to remind you of how certain I am,” he hissed and ordered an attack from the Eruption pokemon. You quickly yelled out a counter from Groudon. Maxie only grew more annoyed at how easily you seemed to command the legendary.

🪨 It was a difficult battle. Maxie's will was certainly apparent, but his team was simply not a match for the pokemon who had made the land. He fell on his hands and knees afterward, breathing heavily from the distress the situation brought. It was obvious that he had never once anticipated something like this happening. Closing his eyes, he spoke again. “My dear, p-please,” his voice lacked his usual confidence, “Allow me to have Groudon. You of all people should know my intentions well! I would never do anything that would harm humanity.” You shook your head, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

🪨 Instead, you leaned down to help him up from position. Softly, you embraced him, well aware of how he got when stressed out. “I know… I know… That's why I can't let you use Groudon,” you moved to look him in the eyes, “You wouldn't forgive yourself for making such a deadly error. Please, Maxie, trust me. Tabitha will back me up. Especially since he can properly measure Groudon's power now.” Maxie made an annoyed sound at that. He moved away from your embrace and rubbed his temples. It was obvious he needed more convincing, but for now, he had let it go.

🪨 Thankfully, Tabitha did come to support you upon getting actual readings from Groudon, and Maxie quickly relented that his plans would not have ended well had they truly happened. The obvious embarrassment on his face both made you empathetic and a little happy. He began to rethink his plans after that epiphany, but he now at least felt confident that you call out his bad ideas now. Especially with how you somehow managed to capture a super-ancient pokemon all on your own. (Maxie lives in eternal jealousy that you are Groudon's favourite.)

🌧Archie🌊

💧 You could pretend to be unaware of what Archie's plans, but that would mean ignoring how eagerly and confidently he expressed them. It would not surprise you if most of Hoenn knew that he wanted to return the earth to its pure beginnings and make a paradise for pokemon. Which was great and all, until a certain redhead decided to make sure it was understood what his ultimate goal of awakening Kyogre could lead to the entire earth being flooded to you specifically. You decided to act faster than Archie then when Maxie entrusted you with the Red Orb.

💧 It felt bad, taking what your boyfriend worked so hard for with the help of everyone in his team, but you simply could not allow what he wanted to do come to fruition. It had not been easy, especially with the beast slumbering deep in the ocean within a cavern. You felt bad, doubting in his ability to control Kyogre, but it just seemed as if could not possibly end well when you considered what you had been shown.

💧 The issue remained that there was no way for him to have known what you did as he continued to work his way to getting everything he needed to awaken the already awoken legendary. If you did not act soon, he would soon be utterly confused by what happened to Kyogre. Which is why you caught him in an isolated moment in Lilycove. He was standing out on the beach, just admiring the sight of the waves with a big grin. The pokeball felt like a weight on your belt as you came to stand at his side wordlessly. His arm went around your shoulders as he pulled you closer to him. The smell of the sea was somehow stronger on him than by the ocean.

💧 “Everything's nearly done, right?” you asked him. He gave a hearty laugh and a 'yeah' in response. The submarine was all that was still needed in his plans. The setting sun reflected a brilliant orange across the horizon of the water. You closed your eyes. How did you tell him about your new team member? No, that you were now standing firmly in the way of his plans and had captured the very beast he wanted for himself. “… Can I show you something?” He let you go and turned to you with that same big grin. A quick simple nod and loud, 'yeah' was his reply.

💧 You took a few steps away from him and faced the ocean with a deep breath. Better now than after he gets to the bottom of the ocean and faces immense confusion and disappointment. You send out the Sea Basin pokemon. Its powerful cry echoes out as the ocean shifts to accommodate it immediately. Kyogre settled into the water as you turned to an awestruck Archie. It was obvious he had interpreted this differently than you had wanted by his still present grin.

💧 He rushed over and squeezed you into a warm hug, pressing kisses wherever he could on exposed skin. You were lifted into the air and spun, even. It all felt horrible when you knew you had to tell him why you had the legendary, as he clearly thought you caught it for him. He finally put you back on the ground and turned to the pokemon. “You really went out an' got Kyogre for me?” his voice was filled with excitement, “You're amazing, Luvdisc!” You nervously shifted.

💧 “… Actually,” you came to block him from Kyogre as he pulled out his phone to contact Shelly and Matt, “I didn't catch it for you.” He stopped his actions to shoot you a confused look. The gears were turning in his head quite clearly. “I caught it to stop you. I'm not letting you use Kyogre, Archie. Your plans will leave this planet flooded and uninhabitable!” His expression instantly dropped. His brows furrowed together. It hit him all at once.

💧 “Come on,” he looked at you with a genuine expression, “I don't know who told ya all that, but you trust me, right? I wouldn't do anything like that.” When you still shook your head in reponse, he sighed. It was obvious he really did not want to fight you, but you refused to negotiate with him. His Sharpedo was sent out from his pokeball as his grin turned into something much more predatory. “Fine,” he nodded, “I'll show you my resolve an' win you over again.” You could only dish out attack instructions to Kyogre as his Sharpedo came to attack it. It was an intense battle that soon followed.

💧 But… Unsurprisingly, to both him and you, Kyogre came out on top. It struck him down a peg as his normally confident body language dropped. Between being bested by the very pokemon he wished to use for his dreams and you seemingly betraying him, he clearly felt out of works. “Please,” he genuinely begged, “C'mon, Luvdisc, you gotta trust me!” His hands enveloped yours. When you still refuse him, he looked even more distraught.

💧 You moved to embrace him instead, burying your face into his nape. It was really working against your better judgement, seeing him like this. If you did not get him to agree soon, you might just give him Kyogre to stop his hurt expression. “… We'll just cause more pain for pokemon using Kyogre...” you told him softly, “Please, Archie. Let's find another way to help the oceans and pokemon.” His arms came around you tightly. It was difficult for him to consider your words, especially when he felt his plans were the best possible thing for what he envisioned. He sighed. A new issue arose in his mind when you looked up at him. He could not say no to you.

💧 In the end, Archie did actually give up on his plans to use Kyogre. Especially after Shelly looked into predicted data for Kyogre's power output when in its Primal state came out when getting to examine the pokemon. He would admit defeat where it mattered and was more or less happy a catastrophe was prevented in the end. Though, he was obviously a bit upset about the path you took to stop him. He got over it, though, when he considered how amazing it was that you caught Kyogre all on your own, and you let him swim with the legendary.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Somehow…. Somehow you managed to outsmart the cunning merchant. He might have had the last plate, but you had captured all pokemon in the region as you were instructed. “Borrowing” a Giratina from a point in different time through a space-time dimensional rift, to get the one pokemon that seemed simply impossible to find otherwise. You had figured out what the ominous message on your changed smartphone meant, after all. Volo was completely off-base in what Arceus apparently wanted in order to be summoned.

⭐️ It was certainly cruel, especially as you had established… something of a relationship with Volo. You wanted to claim it love, but it was hard to establish something close when both of you were lying to one another. He wished to use you to achieve his goals of usurping Arceus, and you pretended you did not know. Either way, whether you despised or loved him, there was simply no manner in which you could allow him access to the legendary. Even if you knew it would absolutely tear into his seemingly fragile demeanour when it came to all things related to the deity.

⭐️ This is how you ended up meeting the baffled blond at the Temple of Sinnoh. You stood gazing over the side of the ruined structure to see the natural beauty of untouched Hisui as Volo approached you from behind. Your hand came to rest upon the pokeball which contained your awful secret as you turned around to face him. The uncertain expression on his face confirmed that he was, at least, not entirely sure what was going on. You smiled at him, and he gave a similar gesture back to you.

⭐️ “… You planned to invite me here, no? Since we have seventeen plates,” you spoke to him carefully. He nodded, still unsure as to where this was going. Closing your eyes, you could only hope his reaction was not too violent. When it came to Arceus, he seemed too desperate and turbulent. It was entirely different from the careful and calculating man you had come to know otherwise. “I have something to show you,” you walked closer to him and grasped his hand gently, feeling the warmth of his skin sink into your own, “Is that alright?” He gave a simple 'yes' in reply while still attempted to decipher just what was going on. You gripped the hand tightly, afraid this would be the last time you would ever feel his touch. Volo returned the action.

⭐️ You let his hand go and took a few steps back. Reaching again for the pokeball, you released the pokemon waiting inside. The instant the light forming its shape from the pokeball faded, you could see the immediate recognition take hold of Volo's mind. His eyes, previously something friendly, shifted to a darker, demented gaze. The lax, playfulness of his body language becoming stiff and unreadable. Arceus stood toweringly over both of you, letting out its unmistakable cry. Volo's fist clenched.

⭐️ “How?” was the first word from his mouth. It was soon to be followed by more as his face shifted to something filled with rage and anguish. “How did you know? How did you even obtain such a deity's favour?” He clearly was between charging you for the device which held everything he wanted and throwing a fit akin to a tantrum to let out his all-consuming emotions. “I hold the blood of the ancient people of Sinnoh yet Arceus dares choose someone like you?!” His pupils were shrunken into near invisibility. You had been well aware he was not going to take this in good standing, but you genuinely began to worry for your safety.

⭐️ You could only watch in amazement as he stood tall, a laugh of madness escaping him. From behind him, reality itself tore apart and Giratina left its dimension to stand at the blond's side. The frigid wind zipped around you both. “Giratina… strike them down!” You instantly moved into battle mode, calling out orders to the deity at your side. An intense battle soon began, Giratina raging against its creator alongside its collaborator raging at his betrayal of his god and his lover.

⭐️ Yet… In the end, victory laid at your feet. Volo let out a scream as the scared Renegade pokemon fled the scene, leaving him alone to stand opposed to you and the Alpha pokemon. You prepared for another battle, well aware he had more pokemon in his arsenal, but unexpectedly stood down. His shoulders slumped. “… How?” he asked again, as meekly as someone like him could, “Why would Arceus choose you?”

⭐️ You approached him carefully, coming to hold on to his hand once again. It was clammy now. The stress and confusion apparent in so many ways. “… I was sent here to oppose you, though you already knew that,” you explained and held out the Arc Phone to allow him to see it, “I was given orders to 'meet all pokemon' by this, which means it was an order from Arceus in actuality…” He seethed a bit at your words. “After doing that… I simply went here and played my flute, which had changed its shape.” His body shook, but he ultimately suppressed whatever he was feeling. His hand tightened around your own to a near painful degree. His eyes were filled with both scorn and amazement as they met your own.

⭐️ It was only natural that he needed a long time alone after that. Something about being out-played and 'betrayed' usually led to complicated feelings. He left the last plate to you and disappeared from the region entirely, so it seemed. You knew that was untrue, of course. Volo was far too obsessed with his heritage and the history of this land to ever truly leave. You would simply have to wait this out and let him return on his own terms. Whenever he did, you would be happy to continue where you had left off with him.

[awful-little-goose]

Hoho hehe more horror freak show au stuff! Since I particularly enjoy the mechanic of the characters changing in horrifying ways thanks to what torture/trauma they’re put through, I wondered how Buzz got their long long arms!

Also I wanted to make freakshow carnival Buzzbuzz ✨✨✨i am disgusted by my own creation✨✨✨but they go from the beast tamer to just- the beast YOU (player) have to tame

Also the queen beet thing is like- I imagined that Buzz was actually controlled by their own bees in this au, and the explanation I got for that is that queen bee literally got into their head! It can be plucked out tho, by the other players, but Buzz becomes VERY aggressive and defensive if they catch you trying to pry her off

If you get through it tho, you can use the queen bee as an item to deal with insects that may be around the circus! Like Buzz’s lil bugs

Freakshow au belongs to @hootbon !! (Promise I won’t tag you in every post KSKSKSK I’ll keep it at that ✨✨✨)

[dross-the-fish]

Colorized Hyde paced around the makeshift lab, wondering how Adam Frankenstein had assembled such a busy workshop without the aid of an assistant.  “Does Dr Watson know you have all this?” he asked, peering at an assortment of organs in flasks.

Adam shook his head, “He does not and I'd be grateful if you didn't reveal my secrets. I like Dr Watson and I know he won’t approve of my work,” he strode over to a large vat filled with liquid in the middle of the room, "If we bring Miss Morris back he may forgive me, if not I'll simply defy him. I accept no masters and though I owe him much he will not command me in this," he pulled a lever and sparks of electricity crackled down the wires connecting to the vat, charging the liquid. He waited a full minute, counting the seconds before he shut off the power.

Hyde nodded, he saw no reason to do Watson any favors or derail Frankenstein's projects so he found himself agreeable "Mum's the word, old chap, I don't see any reason why he should be in the loop,” He tapped the vat with his cane. "What's in here,"

"A compound of chemicals Victor used to submerge me in while he ran the current through my body. This, "Adam made a sweeping gesture over the vat, "Is the elixir that rejuvenates the dead cells and primes them for the electricity to do its work. it took me forever to figure out how to make it but thanks to Dr Watson granting me access to all of his medical tomes my methods may surpass even that of my maker’s," his even white teeth flashed sharply against the harshness of his black lips in a gruesome, self-satisfied grin. He imagined Victor would have been horrified to see his creation carrying on his work, but Adam had not time for guilt or self-reflection now, a life hung in the balance, waiting to be plucked back from the grave and restored.

He was almost giddy with anticipation. He had not disclosed to Hyde that the consciousness that awakened might not be that of their companion. He himself had no memories of a time before his birth and there was just as much likelihood that she too would return as a blank slate. That was not ideal, he admitted, but he could not think such a thing to be a total loss. To have another like himself would be adequate consolation for the loss of Ms Morris. Whatever was brought back, Adam swore to himself that he would not turn his back on his creation. He would do better by his progeny than his own father. Of that he was certain.

"You've resurrected people before?" Hyde's voice intruded as the small man wandered across the lab peering at the glimmering, viscous, liquids that funneled into the vat with interest.

"Not people, but I've brought back several frogs, two cats and a dog," said Adam, "It works and I think perhaps better for my access to the advancement in medicine since my makers time,” He turned to Hyde, "Now, before we begin, did you get the heart?"

Hyde drew a jar from his coat, a perfectly preserved human heart sealed within. Adam nodded in satisfaction, "Excellent, I'm not going to ask where you got it, frankly I do not care so long as it is in good condition and fresh."

"Oh it's fresh alright, and in excellent condition, I tested the donor's constitution myself before the harvest," Hyde chortled as he handed the jar over.

"Mmm, let's not tell Miss Morris that when we bring her back. I don't know how she'd take to finding out you killed someone to get a new heart for her," Adam pursed his lips, he was not legitimately displeased as fresher parts guaranteed a higher chance of success. He looked down at Hyde curiosity scrawled across his features, "Why are you so keen on helping me with this? I know you don't like Watson but this can't all be spite."

"It isn't," Hyde confirmed, "I am genuinely curious to see if this works. I am a scientist at heart after all. More to the point, I liked Miss Morris, she was the only one in our group who doesn't have a stick up her arse and she was good at cards. Besides if I’m stuck with no one but you, Watson and that sanctimonious little shit Harker then I’m going to make damn sure that you’re all as miserable with my company as I am yours. “

"You are, perhaps, the most hateful creature I have ever met...and I am myself, a vile devil," Adam remarked passively as he laid Selma's body on the table and handed Edward the scalpel, "This is your job. I could possibly do it but, I believe, you are an actual doctor and you have the learning and the experience that I lack. I trust you can transplant the heart?"

Edward frowned, "I can, though the task requires a certain level of detachment and patience. That was always Jekyll’s domain…I’ll do my best.”

Adam readied the apparatus that would bring Selma Morris back to life while Edward prepped himself for surgery. As he was washing his hands a small trickle of fear ran down his spine. Could he really do this? It was one thing to patch a small wound but a major surgery, even on a cadaver, required attentiveness and delicacy, those traits did not come easily to him without Henry’s temperance. His head swam, what if he made a mistake? What if he botched it up and they really lost her forever? He felt suddenly nauseous as he picked up the scalpel and prepared to make the first incision.  As the blade hovered over the corpse’s chest he froze, paralyzed by an overwhelming uncertainty. His anxiety built to a point that he found himself fighting the urge to slash into the body and start hacking away. Smash the lab, destroy it all and rip everything apart then burn it to the ground as long as he didn’t have to face the risk of failure.

Did he really want that? He didn’t know…that was the rub of it. Indecision held him pinned and he could feel his control begin to slip.

"Give me the scalpel, Edward," a calm voice in the back of his mind said firmly just as he was about to plunge the instrument into the dead woman’s chest, "you're too shaken up. Let me take over,"

"I'm not letting you out Henry, you tried to kill us and I haven't forgiven you! I know as soon as you're free you'll try to lock me away again!"

"No Edward, I won't. I'll transplant the heart and then I'll let you have control again. I give you my word."

"You mean that now but I know once you're out you'll be tempted! You’ll feel all of those things again that I keep at bay! Shame and sorrow will eat us if I let us be you again! We’ll want to die and we can't resist temptation no matter which of us we are!"

"Isn't Miss Morris worth the risk? I liked her too Edward. If she can be brought back then shouldn’t we try? Listen to me Edward, we don’t want to fail. We want to give this its best chance, let me have the scalpel."

Hyde resisted only briefly before he shuddered, closed his eyes and retreated. Jekyll took a moment to get his bearings, nod at Adam, who was staring at him in confusion, and then swiftly, cleanly, he made the first incision. .....

My players accidentally got an NPC killed and begged me to bring her back. This scene was the result.

[thesnazzysharky]

Hot take: Monster 3 is a decent character

Out of all the creatures in this game, Babcube seems to get the least amount of attention and seems to be widely disliked. I do get it to some extent, it's not my most favorite character, but to the point of disliking it? Nah. Firstly, I've seen some claim that there's nothing to the creature itself in terms of background or lore, which isn't true. Its purpose seems to be representing some kind of symbolism. "Old Experiments" is the title of the ambience that plays in the area that Monster 3 resides in and is also the ambience that plays when Monster 3 chases you in Endless Mode (albeit only in the og version of sjsm). Simply going off the name and the fact that it's associated with Monster 3 gives some disturbing implications. That being, at some point amidst the chaos that Ghost Cow was causing in the hospital, a literal infant (or possibly multiple infants) were involved in some way. Infants that were involved in some twisted experiments that somehow birthed the creation of... that (do remember that this is the same game that directly references Unit 731).

Either Monster 3 is supposed to be that infant or infants merged into one or Monster 3 could be a paranormal manifestation of the pain those infants went through. The pain of being trapped down below in the hospital, which is represented through the box containing the baby head, and eventually succumbing to whatever experiments were performed by the possessed staff. That is what Babcube symbolizes. Some extremely fucked up shit was happening down there (which was already made pretty evident by Monster 4, the Hanged Man). It might not be much, but the implications are definitely there. That's kinda the point of the monsters and is what separates them from the specimens. The DLC tells you jack shit about its creatures. Leaving things up entirely to your own interpretation and speculation. Karamari Hospital is all about its mystery. It's why, although pretty funny, I'm not a big fan of Wambu's "How a body got the bag" story apparently becoming Monster 2's canon backstory. It feels like it misses the point of Monster 2 and Karamari Hospital as a whole. But that's just my take. Secondly, its design. It's very simple. An infant's head in a rusty cube. Yet it still manages to be unnerving and bizarre. Frankly the most bizarre creature in this whole entire game in my opinion.

"Well that's just weird" isn't the only aspect to its design however. It's just very unnatural and uncanny in general. The way it glitches in and out of existence as it slowly moves towards you. The way the head itself clearly resembles that of an infant, yet it subtly doesn't 100% look like one, with the closed eyes, wrinkled face, and unnatural looking mouth and nose, making it strike the uncanny valley. With the face looking even worse when it randomly distorts.

And the sounds... dear god I fucking hate the sounds this thing makes. Similar to how the face resembles an infants, the sounds from Babcube resembles the crying and wailing of an infant, but there's that uncanny valley again. It sounds like a crying infant... but not fully. Its crying sounds muted and croaky. Not loud like a regular infant, but definitely odd and strange. Combine all of this together and you get a creatures that's disturbing to ponder about, unnerving to look at, and uncomfortable to listen to or even be around. A creature that feels like it shouldn't exist, yet it does. A creature that really makes my skin crawl. Not in a downright scared or horrified way, but in a "what the fuck am I even looking at or hearing" kind of way. A creature that I just feel really bad for and wonder what happened to birth it.

Like I said, it's not my most favorite character, but I don't dislike it either and I appreciate what they add to the game and the atmosphere of the hidden basement. I don't dislike or think any of the enemies in sjsm are bad in fact. Some are weaker than others, but I think they all add a little bit of flavor that makes this game so enjoyable and cool to me.

[sburbian-sage]

You know, you get all these people who talk about the funny and silly things they do in their sessions and the weird things they find but

I feel like you dont get enough people that talk about how utterly horrifying it is to live like this

To be eternally stuck in a body thats never yours and be forced through death over and over and over

I should be turning 65 this year or at least close, copious amounts of time travel make it impossible to keep accurate track. Ive gone through dozens and dozens of sessions, learned things, forgotten most, ive loved and lived and died, and fought and fought and fought because in sburb you can never stop fighting not even for a moment

Ive turned entire sessions into fragmented code and ripped open holes into the deepest of voids and me and my coplayers jump in every time, new friends, new beings, new lives

Ive waded through the gene code slop of cancerous frogs and come out the other side more construct and grist than flesh only to wake up eternally 13

Ive killed at least a dozen coplayers, either because they were pkers or for the safety of my other coplayers

Ive been transitioning in every session for nearly 30 years only to finish the game and wake up 13 in the wrong body over and over

Sburb is hell, or as close as we can get

But its also so, so, beautiful

Watching skaia break the horizon on prospit and sink below on derse, hundreds of lands never cease to be beautiful in their own ways, fog on broken buildings and mist in endless pines, oceans of anything imaginable sloshing on candy cane beaches and sand made of broken screens

The birth of a Genesis Frog is continuously one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, the sheer majesty of a being that contains a universe, of such internal scale that it boggles the mind

Sburb is so many many things but above all it is a game of creation and survival, its a world drunk on its own pure space, pure volume. Where the laws of physics don't exist and space is a suggestion and time less than a guidebook, its imagination in its purest most distilled form

Its my home, and the only thing ive ever known

I was originally going to be really mean and point out that "nobody talks about how badly SBURB sucks" because everyone already knows it. Every bad thing you described, 20 people are experiencing *right now*, in this very moment. It's kind of like walking into the Room Full of Spikes That Stab You In The Eyes, seeing that everyone is telling stories to take their mind off of things, and then asking why they don't acknowledge how painful the spikes are. But this kind of turned into a sappy vent post. Which I also don't like, but I'll allow it this one time.

Sorry to hear about the transitioning thing, by the way. I'm fairly certain that SBURB should be scanning your brain and generating Dream Self and God Tier bodies congruent with whatever's in there. Either this is a very bad and persistent bug you've kept running into, or you're genderquirked in a different way. Every time I've seen discussions on this topic, it's always centered binary trans people. Maybe the nonbinaries are better at dealing with it, or turned into oysters and can't type or something.

I am glad to hear about everything else though. Fight on!

[your-ne1ghbor]

Magnifico's "Wish Stealing form" design/some Character Dump (Disney Wish)

Oh boy ya'll in a BIG BIG Story beat plus some more information on Amaya and Magnifico in my rewrite:

The Kingdom of Roses and Thorns

Oh yeah...this is another long post and Ik @oh-shtars @chillwildwave @signed-sapphire @annymation @uva124 @rascalentertainments is gonna love this idea

For starters...

I Had this nightmare of Magnifico because of this form and now you all will see it too :3

There were also other posts that inspired this design too, so I'll link them here:

Anyways, this post is mainly an MAJIOR STORY IDEA DUMP for my sweet sweet emo Maggy- erm Magnifico (he is glaring at me guys send help please)

Soooo....

I had this terrifying idea for TKoRaT Maggy, even before I had this nightmare of him, where he legit becomes somewhat something like this, but with more vine core when he is taking the wishes/"monster in my closet" wrong vibes.

More like this for the idea I'm going for:

This is one of the ideas I had for Maggy when he is taking the wishes. This is might not be final in my final version of Maggy, hell, I might change that particular design to be Amaya's form when she takes the wishes too, since hers is more smoke which is more or not on par with her character in my rewrite/redesign. It might end up being more of Maggy's thing with Amaya helping him get into this state of transformation to take the wishes since I'd imagine it more of a whole process, but it could also just be something they both do together.

Some more design details I added was his scars from when his kingdom was attacked and almost everyone died because he showed mercy to the attackers. He doesn't really have them in his main design, probably because he covers them up with Amaya's potions or the wishes could have some form healing abilities? Idk I'm still firguring out the magic system of my story or that I just keep forgetting to put those scars in his design so awesome???💀

In my post here, I said that they don't hold ceremonies that has them granting/taking the wishes like they did in the movie. This is mainly because I wanted to do a little something original and gives me the oppertunity to take in the horror aspects of the story (because I love scaring children(not in a bad way, but to show them that there are these kinds of people in the world yk?)). This is why I am intentionally making Maggy and Amaya horrifying in their own way because well...good people can become the bad guys if pushed in the right direction. Especially in what they do to other people. Mainly inspired from Hunchback and Prince of Egypt, with subtle, but TERRIFYING pieces.

BUT, They do have a ceremony, but it is not related to the wishes, it is just there to give them some sympathetic traits to Maggy and Amaya (after all they've been through, I just feel bad, they literally wanted to good things and the world just beat them with a 90 foot pole).

This one I tried making Maggy more jagged. Although it seems like he is a different character here, thats mainly my fault since I really tried to figure out what he would say to Star Boy in this "idea" scene but my brain blanked out and couldn't think of anything so wahoo

Star Boy in this scene doesn't even know he has a desire, he just didn't think stars can form desires (ofc Maggy and Amaya is going to manipulate the hell out of him and Asha :3)

ALSO

This is also the main reason I split Star Boy's powers between what Amaya and Maggy does.

Maggy has only 1 shape-shifting form, and it is only done to steal the wishes. He can't shape shift into anything else, but it is why when he steals star's powers, he becomes more of a terrifying shapeshifter.

Amaya creates dangerous potions, and more or not lurks in the darkness in some way like a cat to bring them to their doom. Although it would make more sense if Maggy has the creation part of Star's powers, I gave it to Amaya since it works for her too, and keeps the power system balanced in some way. If I do give Amaya the ability to also shapeshift into a monster from my dreams, I could also say the same thing can work in reverse too, I just personally think the creation part of her character conflicts with Asha's ability to create/draw magic.

Power wise for this design...

This form also gives Maggy the ability to see people's desires that HE could take. He can't really take them until they are 17-18 years old and older (ruh oh, 2 of our main protagonists fall under that age gap). Plus, he cant take them from children since they are young and dont understand these kinds of things.

This form also falls under the MAIN conflict of why the hell is everyone miserable when they turn around 17/18 years old? Oh yeahhh this is going to fall under how he steals the wishes, but I'm not going to say anything here yet because I really want it to be a surprise.

Nothing that he does is not without reason. He blames the stars for not granting his wish (there is a reason why they didn't), and for not stepping in when a star, or Aster (NOT STAR BOY) went "rouge" (not Aster's fault btw, they didn't have a choice). So, this presented him with this ideology (that I personally believe Amaya first started thinking this way, out of pain and wanting to blame someone for what happened a century ago) that in order for people to not wish on stars, is for them to never wish/dream again. The story in my version is the aftermath of this. Still figuring out THE MAJIOR STORY BEATS, but this falls under Star Boy as well.

Star Boy represents the thing Magnifico hates the most. Plus, Maggy has more of a personal beef with the stars so of course he is going to make sure Star Boy dies, becauseeee he didn't do it last time, so second times the charm, am I right? (OR MAYBE THE THIRD WHO KNOWS, LETTING THE STORY WORK ITSELF OUT ;3)

ORIGINALLY, this was going to be Amaya's thing, but as I said, this might end up being mainly Maggy's thing, or it is something they both do, since they share the same goal, but here is the designs I was going to show for that:

Anywaysssss, ya'll can ask me questions regarding to this design if ya'll want to! I'll gladly answer them! I also will accept suggestions for the design/abilities for this "wish stealing..." thing. I might come up with a better name for this form later. Soo have a happy weekend as your neighbor watches some marvel movies as I work on my projects for my classes.

explodes

Edit: Okay my imagination took my to the most tragic part of his character then randomly imagined star boy getting stabbed by this guy and said "now you feel the pain I felt when everyone died" and star boy, in the worst condition says "almost everyone" then gets a another stab from him💀

[maegalkarven]

So look in my mercy mirror.

m!Dark Urge x Gortash, m!Dark Urge x Astarion.

Redeemed!Durge (but not morally), good run.

The team confronts Lord Gortash in his keep.

Karlach wants to kill the man; June has another idea.

TW: tadpoling (not graphic), June refers to Gortash solely by his name.

What are you doing?

Emperor’s voice rings in his ears - in his mind - slightly tinted with suspicion. Funny, for how much the mindflayer insists June can trust it, it doesn’t seem to trust June at all.

You said I need to gather my allies, he replies absentmindedly, hands working on taking this damn cork off and opening the bottle. Such a small thing it is, and how much it contains.

Enver was personally responsible for the creation of this new, nether-touched illithid parasite.

Enver and him; the details are hazy, but June can easily see himself fit into the narrative the lordling painted for him. He can see himself, on top of the world, with crown of Karsus in his hands, ready to conquer the entire Toriel for his father.

What a fool he was.

It’s changed now. He is a changed man.

“June?” Karlach looks uncertain and that hurts.

Hadn’t she learned by now to trust his judgment, had he not proved himself to be a good, loyal friend? The mere fact what she doubts him still is simply unacceptable.

She’ll see, June knows. Once he puts his plan in action, she will see the brilliance of it.

What use Enver’s death would be to her? It would not turn back the time, it would not give her back her heart or ten years of her life.

But this? This can turn the tide.

“It’s alright,” he smiles, but for some reason she doesn’t smile back. Damn it, did the smile come out wrong again? “Just hold him firm.”

She complies, but looks even more unsettled.

“This is...Not what I’ve expected,” Karlach admits. “You...What are you going to do with this thing?”

June smiles; this time the smile comes out right.

“I am going to fix it.”

Enver lets out a deep, throaty chuckle.

“And there I was, concerned they’ve somehow ruined you,” for a man beaten bloody and pressed down the cold tile floor he looks surprisingly content. “Worried Orin damaged your brain too much and somehow turned you into...” he trails off. “But I was a fool to fear that. No, you’re just as you’ve always been.” Another annoyingly long pause and then- “You’re going to tadpole me.”

“Yes,” June smiles.

Of course Enver of all people would understand.

He pulls the specimen out of its glass cage and holds between his fingers. Gently, ever so gently.

Enver’s eyes trail the movement.

“We worked so hard on these curious little things; you’ve worked so hard on them. It would be a shame for you to not test out your own creation, would it not?”

“June,” Wyll calls out and June doesn’t need to turn around to know his friend looks downright horrified.

Why can’t they see?

This is the right thing to do. Death is too simple, too easy. This? This will give Enver a chance to atone for his crimes. No, it will downright force him to cooperate.

And cooperation is exactly what June needs.

He is in your head, comes out an echo of a conversation long passed. Gortash, Gortash, Gortash – this damned lordling is all you can speak of these days! I doubt father approves of that, brother dear.

But June doesn’t care if father approves anymore. June doesn’t do his father’s bidding.

He is a free man, a free and a good man. And if he can change like that, who knows how Enver could?

“This is a chance,” he thinks and realizes he’s spoken aloud. “To work together. To fix the mess we’ve started. To make things right.”

“This is wrong,” Wyll argues. “You know this is wrong, June-“

“Juniper,” Enver speaks. There’s a strange glint in his eyes and it takes June some time to decipher it. There’s dread, of course, but also...Satisfaction? Like this is expected outcome. Like this aligns with Enver Gortash’s image of the world.

June frowns.

“You look entirely too pleased, my dear,” he comments lightly, crouching down to Enver’s level. The parasite dangles from his fingers, sharp jaws opening and closing in a rather rhythmical manner. As if it senses the prey nearby.

Enver manages a weak shrug, still pressed firmly down; Karlach looks distressed but her hold does not waver.

“No sense to panic over something I can’t change, is there?” True, but that does not explain the smugness. “And it’s a relief.”

“A relief?” June slowly reaches out, hand getting closer and closer to Enver’s face. Did he caress this face before? Were they that close?

The deep, annoying longing inside insists they were.

Close. Closer than Bhaal would permit, perhaps. Was he the reason for June’s little rebellion?

If so, it’s only right to repay for that.

“This thing with Selûne,” Enver frowns. “It was entirely...anticlimactic. I am glad you’re as ruthless as I recall you to be.”

June frowns right back.

“You’re delusional,” he replies. “I was ruthless once, but no more. This is mercy. I am sparing you, sparing your life. Enver, I am your savior.”

That makes the lordling look even more smug.

“Of course you are,” he smiles as if he knows something June does not. Annoying. “Now, shouldn’t you cut this ‘will he, won’t he’ business and finally-“

His voice cuts short as June drops the parasite on his face, as close to the eyes as he manages.

The creature crawls up and immediately buries itself into the depths of Enver’s skull. Clever little thing.

June watches, fascinated, as the man struggles while parasite takes a hold on him.

Then he raises an artifact.

Emperor? He calls out. Will you do the honors?

Of course.

A wave of pcionic power washes over them and Enver’s mind clears. He blinks; once, twice, brushes the uncalled tears away. Then looks up, straight at June.

“Not too bad,” comments plainly, asshole. Like June didn’t just turn his life upside down. “I assume you’ll force me to comply with your clever plans now?”

“Of course,” June thought it was rather obvious. “Now we’re going to save the day like the true heroes we are,” he smiles. “We don’t need any gods for that, we don’t need any cults. Bhaal and Bane can fight over the rubbish all they want, but we know better. We are going to have Baldur’s Gate eating from our palms. But first,” he feels his smile turn slightly malicious. “We’ll visit an old acquaintance. Halsik has everything prepared and stands at the ready.”

At that Enver perks up.

“You’re dragging me to Hell,” he comments rather cheerfully. “Again. If I didn’t know better, I’d think a trip to Hell is your idea of a date.”

June snorts, and Karlach snorts, and even Astarion, who was mostly silent through the entire encounter, snorts, though his snort is more unkind than the others'.

“No, silly,” June drags his hands up Enver’s torso until they lay placidly on his chest. Warm, he notices absentmindedly. Warm and familiar. Selûne’s Grace, am I in love with this man?

That would be...unfortunate, all things considered. But not entirely unexpected.

“We are going to break into the House of Hope,” he feels Enver stil underneath the touch. “I assume you’re more than familiar with the place, are you not?”

The lordling wets his lips, then grasps June and uses him as a leverage to stand up. Karlach almost doesn’t let him, but June waves her off and she, rather begrudgingly, lets go of the man.

There’s still a sense of unease about her, unease and...A hint of distrust? Of him, of June?  But he is fixing things, surely she knows that!

“And what exactly are you planning to get there?”

Enver is close, gods, he is so close and his breath is warm on June’s forehead and it’s hard to think- Fuck, they definitely were lovers and June is definitely not over it. Astarion is going to kill him. Or worse, going to be hurt by him, by that. Stop, stop, stop, he needs to stop-

Two things happen at once.

Enver’s hand finds its place on June’s waist and takes a sure, firm hold of it.

Astarion’s mind, gentle in a way a mind of a man intimately familiar with all the ways personal boundaries can be broken, making damn sure he is not breaking and entering into the depths of June’s mind unwelcome, brushes past him.

June lets him in.

Stop fucking fidgeting, his glorious lover complains immediately. You’re giving the bastard a leverage over yourself.

I’m sorry, June immediately blurts and does it with such a force he is sure both Karlach and Wyll heard him. He avoids thinking of Gortash being linked to them the same way now. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, or maybe I did, but didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he’s here and he is so close and I- I am sorry, I am so, so-

Do you take me for an idiot? Comes out a huff and how did Astarion manage to huff through a mental link? You might have emotional intelligence of a redcap, but I’ve been aware you two knew each other on a level what’s far beyond any niceties the moment Gortash stopped his own coronation to gape at you.

He didn’t gape at me, June argues, thought he isn’t so sure now. Was Enver gaping at him? He sure looked friendly, much friendlier than Ketheric and Orin combined. But gaping?

He stopped his coronation, Astarion repeats. To come down from his high horse and chat with you. To welcome you back. He took control over one of his steelwatchers simply to invite you to the damn thing. And you- now there’s an actual, visible huff coming from his lover.

June catches Enver watching Astarion closely; a loose, entirely self-satisfied smile on his lips, hand still on June’s waist, head leaning on his. Enver invades June’s personal space like it’s his life goal, like instilling his presence in June’s life is something he has at his top priority.

This is...flattering.

“No, the fuck, it isn’t,” Karlach says aloud, and it’s a cue for June to realize he might have been thinking too loudly. “This is disgusting is what it is, I can’t believe you would-“

“My sweet June has his strong suits and his weak ones,” Astarion speaks, giving Gortash the smile so sharp it should’ve splinted the man in half. “His awful taste in men is, admittedly, one of the later. Not me, of course,” he chuckles, but June hears the underlying self-degrading tone noneless. They should’ve made Cazador Szarr suffer more. “But other,”  vampire spawn gestures at Gortash. “Lesser men.”

“Lesser, you say?” And of fucking course Enver would take the bait. “I would-“

“Enough,” Wyll all but barks and for once they all comply. “We have bigger things to worry about but you two fighting over June’s affections,” June catches Karlach make a gagging face at that and Enver sending her a rude gesture in response.

Children, he is surrounded by literal children. Worst of all, these children are the ones saving the world with him. Ridiculous.

“Right, right,” he sends a grateful smile Wyll’s way and is relieved to see the man smile back just as warmly. At least someone is in his corner. Someone other than Astarion, but that’s given; June and Astarion are bound for life now, for as long as both of them live.

Admittedly, said life might include Astarion murdering June’s former, current – who could tell? – tyrannical lover in a cold blood. Or hot blood. In a pool of blood, definitely.

June isn’t even sure he would be very angry about it, mostly just...sad? He does seem to care for the said tyrant a lot. Oh, bother.

“We are going to break into the House of Hope,” he reminds these literal children who now are making faces at each other. If anything, seeing Karlach and Enver flip each other off would work for an evening entertainment. June will have to work on this destrusting undertone of her; talk her through it, explain things.

Karlach is a good person, she will understand. June is sure of it.

They’re doing this for the greater good.

“For what?” Enver cuts the chase off. “I assume not to make a deal with Raphael, he usually comes to his victims himself.”

“No,” June agrees. “Not for that, though he tried to strike a deal. He needs the Crown of Karsus, you see? And has something we need. But luckily, Raphael was kind enough to let us know he has it.”

“And why would we strike a deal with him,” Astarion hums. “When we can simply take what we need?”

“Exactly.”

Enver smiles.

“You are planning to steal from him.”

“No,” June leans into him almost involuntarily. He smells...good. He smells familiar. He smells like home. “We are going to steal from him. You,” a sharp nail hits Enver in the chest. The hand is immediately grabbed and held firm. “Are going with us. Care for some heist, my dear lord? Not Mephopheles’ vault, I’m afraid, but just enough for an evening entertainment.”

Enver smiles, wide and sharp and entirely wicked. An evil smile, people would call it. How he managed to convince people of the Baldurs Gate he is not villainous villain is beyond June’s comprehension. By brainwashing them, most likely.

“When let’s rob the devil,” the lordling speaks.

Then he kisses June.

And June can finally breathe.

[queer-eggman]

Rocket's Backstory

*deep breath* God help me

This is the most inconsistent Marvel backstory and I, the top expert on Halfworld, am here to clear it up.

I'm going to split the variants into the following catagories: 1985, 2014, modern comics, show, and mcu. (the show is simply called Guardians of the Galaxy and is on disney+ and i highly recommend).

I have compiled a spreadsheet to go over the main points

As you can see, it's a shit show.

(As i go over the stories as best I can, please note that i am not a comic buff i am a 15 yo with Asperger's and an obsession with Halfworld and if i get something wrong plz don't be mad at me just tell me and I'll fix it :3)

1985 Rocket Raccoon- Rocket is a genetically modified caretaker on Halfworld, a mental asylum used to hold the insane of the galaxy, known as loonies/shrinks (extremely offence things to call mentally ill ppl but it was the 80'ssss). They have a book called the Halfworld Bible, which holds the secrets of the planets and it's people. The planet is ruled by Mayhem Mechaniks and Dyvynicies Inc; rival toy companies owened by Judson Jakes and Lord Dyvyne respectively. Jakes killed Lylla's parents to steal the company and it's... horrifying robot clowns. Pyko steals the Halfworld Bible for it's instructions on how to escape the planet in a giant human-shaped ship. Jakes and Dyvyne find out about this plot and team up to crash a party and there's a big battle and Rocket, Lylla, Pyko, Wal, Blackjack, and possibly Pyko escape Halfworld on the ship, leaving it in shambles as the loonies are left to the own devices to rebuilt the planet with their newfound wisdom (Pyko manages to 'cure' them)

2014 Rocket Raccoon (my fav series :3)- This one doesn't have much in the way of backstory, all we know is what Captain Sale gives us in the last book. Throughout the series it is shown that Rocket has no memory of his creation and believes he is the last of his kind. Until he ends up on Captain Sale's ship. She gives he the key to the Book of Halfworld and he takes 4 hours to read it. He is shown to be disgusted and horrified at the contents, leaving it with Sale and going home. (Clowns and the toy factory etc are mentioned, implying it is a sequel to the 1985 version.

Modern Comics- This section is specifically about v5 GotG #8 as I don't recall any other comics going into much detail. Here, there are loonies and robots, but no clowns. They must have thought it was too silly. Rocket is a therapy animal turned sentient with cruel experimentation. This is the first version of Rocket's backstory to show him sustaining significant and lasting trauma from his past. Not to mention the debilitating physical effects of having a metal skeleton and countless other weird things he doesn't understand. After his transformation, he is shown with the 1985 gang and other past team ups in a montage. It seems there is also an attempt at continuity here but it misses the mark a bit.

GotG Show 2015- This is by far the worst adaptation in my opinion, as it completely overhauls the story. So note that I have bias here. Here, Rocket is a simple Earth raccoon that has been transformed with the purpose of being a living weapon. His purpose was more 'artificial genius' than 'genetic marvel'. Immediately after being let into a more open enclosure, he meets Groot and effortlessly destroys the robots and steals a ravanger ship. After freeing all the creatures, of course.

(i am unable to provide images for this section as disney is a pussy ass company and won't let me screenshot but just imagine it sucking)

MCU- Anyone reading this has already seen the movies but I'll go over it anyway. The High Evolutionary is a man trying to recreate a sentient Earth-like planet by modifying creatures. Rocket is one of these poor souls. He lives his early years in a cage with Floor, Lylla, and Teefs. Rocket manages to open the cage one day, only to have his friends shot in front of him by the High Evolutionary. He then escapes. He meets Groot later in a well, not shown but confirmed by James Gunn.

Wow this took long to write. Time for the conclusion. Here i will 'average out' all the stories and throw in my personal theories.

My version- Halfworld is an insane asylum built by the Kree where they experiment on mentally ill people to try to cure them(we used to do this here on earth until the 60's). The 'toy factory' is a cover-up for this operation. The robot 'doctors' use clown faces to put the patients at ease. But what do psycho robot doctors do when the asylum is abandoned and not longer supplied with patients? They turn to the animal inhabitants on the planet. The Halfworld Bible/ Book of Halfworld is an engineering manual documenting the disgusting progress of making an innocent creature sentient. Pyko frees his people after decades of slavery in a grand rebellion and Lylla becomes the Priestess and guardian of the book like in 1985. Unfortunately, during the rebellion, 89P13 and Groot get stuck in an escape pod and sent away from the Keystone Quadrent, leading him to believe all of his people are dead or re-enslaved.

I think this version harnesses the soul and vibe of all the backstories while making it make more sense in the long run.

I had a lot of fun putting this together and I hope y'all appreciate it :D (Follow for more Halfworld content <3)