#mindless writing

[magicmindless]

A HC List but it’s just Lois Stilnsky

First HC list that doesn’t have to do with Papa Louie lets go

- Early 40s maybe. She’s a kind, caring lady but she can have a bit of an attitude sometimes

- She’s been used as an armrest before because she’s short. She doesn’t appreciate it

- When she was around her 20s she found Roman beaten in an alleyway and left for dead by who he thought were his allies (yeah, gang/mafia stuff). She aided him however she could and then called an ambulance

- Despite being short, she hogs the bed at night, taking up over half of it. Roman has to constantly push her aside so that he can sleep comfortably with her

- Her dad is dead… yeah that’s it, he died of a heart attack

- She came from a humble middle class family. Her father also happened to be an accountant and her mother was a women’s rights activist (she’s retired now)

- As telling from her entry requests she seems to have a good relationship with her mother. They usually just have tea and snacks together and they never run out of things to talk about

- She loves desserts, anything with raspberries in them she’s down for, and also likes white chocolate over other chocolates (even if it technically isn’t chocolate)

- She became a housewife because she didn’t mind it. It’s her own choice and no one told her to do it so she felt fine just taking care of the house and occasionally going out shopping or whatever

- Roman kind of spoils her. The first gift she’s ever gotten from him was her hat she always wears ingame

- I’m sorry but I can’t come up with a reason for her hair covering her eyes. I don’t really wanna say scarring so… yeah, she just likes it

- Her favorite types of shows are dramas, romcoms, and oddly cooking shows. Most days when she has little energy or she’s done with all of her housework she watches TV

- She also likes embroidery. She has embroidered Romans handkerchiefs and even his ties which he wears under his suit (he does love them a lot)

- She’s a pouty person. Roman tells her that’s what she has the most in common with her mom: They both pout and stay silent when they’re pissed off

- She likes setting up tea dates with the other ladies, usually Rafttellyn though because she’s the only other person home most of the time. They both know dirt on everyone

- She loves teasing Roman, but when he teases her back she acts pouty (she loves it when he teases her back)

(Last little note here I am once again so sorry about the people who never got hc lists they requested for certain people, I’ve been in a massive writing block for a while and it got worse this summer, I can’t even write for my original characters but my motivation to write seems to be back? Kind of? Idk I hope it’ll come back fully with milk soon-)

[styles-rainbow-paradise]

An untitled little Drabble I wrote a few years ago with the one and only Harry Styles in mind. I hope you’ll give it a read. I think it’s fluffy . . . Maybe

***

The day you had first met now seemed as though it belonged to another dimension – drama had been flowing freely accompanying moods that where beyond high strung.

It had been a strange day, and to see him sitting alone – head buried in a book – had felt like the kicker. From the distance his face had looked contorted – almost like he had been fighting hard to hold back an array of tears.

It had been this exact thing that had prompted your approach, although you were big in respecting another’s right to privacy – especially when it was a hard known fact that it was almost impossible to come by.

It had felt almost cosmic as you had neared – questioning your actions with each new step.

It felt like something destined by the stars, written years prior to the enactment.

Maybe you should have walked away, but it just wasn’t in your nature to leave someone hurting and upset.

“Hi,” You had mumbled, internally kicking yourself at the thud of his dropped book in startled response.

He had smiled than – clearly forced – clearly ready to put the kind of show you must’ve been there for.

You hadn’t said anything than, just bent down and retrieved his book before silently sitting across from him.

It had been such a brief meeting.

It had felt natural.

Smiles surfaced, laughs snuck out – although you had never found out just what had been bothering him that day.

It hadn’t been your place to pry; you were just glad to be a friend – however brief.

-

You had never imagined several years later he would be there again.

You had never entertained the idea of once more crossing paths – again being a friend.

“Hi,” He had mumbled, resulting in the growing coffee spill before you.

You had almost gasped upon looking up only to see that smile.

You could never have dreamed that he would remember you – no more than just a lowly girl.

You had never anticipated that he would tell you than what you meant to him – ask to share with you a coffee.

You had never realised you could make an impact, be a friend – especially not to him.

[narrators-journal]

Imaginary friends tend to linger

Like that goofy little thing I posted a bit back about Ryoji crawling into bed with Minato, this is just a relaxed, mindless bit of fluff lol. I needed something sweet to wash away some gore my friend showed me, and this did the trick <3

               "Do you wanna cuddle?" Ryoji offered, smiling down at the blue-haired boy who laid on the tiny twin bed. Laying on his back under two blankets, staring up at the dimly glowing blue eyes of his imaginary friend, shivering. Or, perhaps, not-imaginary friend. It was complicated. Though, that didn't matter at the moment. As Minato just about jumped up and gestured for the odd, possibly inhuman brunette to lay down. Which the sapphire-eyed man was happy to do.              "I take that as a yes!" He sang, getting situated so he could stretch out on his back. Letting the eye-catching yellow scarf he somehow got a few years back out of nowhere sprawl out around him, a pleased smile spread over his pale face, and his white button-up lift a little from his stretching to expose the soft belly that the blue-haired nineteen-year-old was happy to flop onto in place of the small bed. "I'm glad I can still be useful to you, funeral lily." The brunette hummed, letting his long time friend straddle him and hunker down so his smaller, colder body could be squished into the odd creature's warmer form. As he spoke, he covered them up once more and ran his fingers through the nineteen-year-old's shaggy hair with a soft smile. Minato, meanwhile, simply laid his head on his imaginary friends chest and let out a slow breath. Letting his bones soak in the abundance of warmth Ryoji let off until his body thawed into a puddle. Melting across the pudgy brunette's soft body while Ryoji played with his hair and rubbed small circles into his back.              "Imaginary friends aren't supposed to be laid on, y'know..." He finally mumbled, not even bothering to open his stormy eyes or even his mouth much as he spoke.              "Oh, you're so right. Here, get up and I'll-" The response that got was a growl before the blue-haired young adult locked his arms around the brown-haired man, making him chuckle. "But, I thought I wasn't supposed to be laid on." Once again, Ryoji didn't get a verbal response, but a movement when the shivering man made him squeal with an attempt at biting him. After that, though, the midnight-haired emo settled back down with a huff. Muttered,              "Just shut up and go to sleep or whatever you do. It's too late for this." as he settled back down to listen to his old friend's heart and sap away his warmth. Ryoji seemed to agree, as he only gave an amused chuckle before going quiet and returning to simultaneously rubbing his back and playing with his hair. Letting the quiet emo settle down into a boneless puddle with his eyes shut and only the brunette's steady heartbeat and his own breathing to fill the silence of his dark bedroom. Imaginary friend, angel, demon, it didn't matter for the moment. Ryoji Mochizuki had been around for years, always there to comfort, cheer up, or warm the midnight-haired teen. And with winter being this cold, and Minato's home this empty, the delicious weight of another human's arm holding him and his excess body heat was more important. The blue-eyed creature could've admitted to being Asmodeus himself and the shivering boy wouldn't have cared. If the devil was this charming, considerate, and gentle with his sinners, Minato couldn't see what Heaven could offer to top it.

[that-one-tired-tiefling]

You look at the wand and think to yourself 'Why me? Why should I do this? Not only it will cause problems at my job, but I will look ridiculous on top of that!' You look at the magical creature, a feathery dragon with big, orange gem floating above its head.

'I cannot do this! Please, choose somebody else!' You plead.

The dragon tilts its head and... smirks? It's hard to tell with its long snout.

'Choose somebody else? Are you sure?' it giggles, making your skin crawl. Bad feeling slowly overtakes you, ringing all alarm bells in your head. You were sure just a moment ago, you know that magical girls fight daily against vicious monsters and villains, risking their lives for others. The amount of new magical girls dying during first month is horrifying.

You ignore the dread and slowly nod.

'Alrighty then~' the creature whispers 'let's hope you won't regret your decision!'

And just like that, it disappears just as fast as it appeared, in a puff of smoke.

You sigh with relief. You know it was a good decision, you have a family to support. Your lovely wife, your 2 sweet daughters, Kelly and Amy... they need you more than the city. With that tought, you slowly come back home.

'I'm ba-'

Your voice gets stuck in your throat. Your heart starts pounding, trying to escape from your chest. The dread you felt before came back, licking your neck with its cold tongue.

Kelly pets the feathery dragon, overtaken with joy. The gem is now glimmering on a ribbon on your daughter's neck.

'Dad, I just became the new magical girl!'

The creature smirks at you.

'I chose somebody else, as requested.'

magical girls are real, and you have been chosen by a magical creature to become one. The only problem is your a full grown man with 2 kids and a wife.

[theysal4m]

upsetting truth.

I hope ur happy and you'd find out that most of my efforts ended up being because of you it fuckin awful.

surprisingly I didn't start going to college cause my own interest in becoming more educated and showing my craft and creative efforts to people, I wanted to be better and show you I'm better but that was hopeless

and as I'm speaking my mind onto this blog again I'll wake up and go to school and show myself I'm better than when you left me and I hope success echoes through my work and shocks you on how much I've grown without you.

-salem

[misteria247]

I'm realizing that Stan is actually incredibly smart. Like in a Ford kind of way to some extent.

Like yes Stan's street smart and life smart but he's also got the smarts that Ford's praised for. Because he had rebuilt the portal and figured out his brother's notes and equations.

Like do you know how hard math is on Ford and Fiddleford's level of expertise??? How complicated and delicate it is????? Especially the kind that brings portals to life???? And Stan figured it out. Had taught himself to read and comprehend these difficult things. Difficult things that requires college degrees in science and mathematics.

And Stan did this on an incomplete high school grade level of academics.

That's fucking nuts. Sure it took 30 years but he learned it. By himself, can you imagine how frustrated he got, teaching himself Ford's educational level??? Using his mechanical skills of fixing his car to be up to par to Fiddleford's impressive craftsmanship????

And I can just see how Ford and Fiddleford react post apocalypse. Ford doing equations and science stuff and talking while Fiddleford listens and gives his input when Stan pipes up unintentionally and puts his hat into the ring. And it's mathematically sound?? And these two men are just blown away cuz what the actual hell?? Ford's immediately questioning Stan, wanting to hear his thoughts while Fiddleford watches impressed and Stan's mortified and a bit overwhelmed. Or Fiddleford working on something and Ford's watching him when Stan points out a better way to make a part work and Fidds is like omg thank you Stanley??? And Ford's looking at his little brother dumbfounded and itching to bomb him with questions and whatnot.

Stan never knows peace afterwards.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

he’s staring.

in the corner of your eye lies a silhouette, a blur of black hair and sharp facial features. awfully hard not to notice, when he’s standing so close to you — gazing at you so intently. waiting for you to say something.

(resisting the urge to look at him directly is a struggle.)

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, something giddy and sweet flooding your veins. he’s just standing there. all while you tap at the keys of your laptop, trying to focus on your work. in vain.

because, inevitably, the rubber band of your patience snaps — and you can do nothing but give in to the temptation. feeling him shift from foot to foot, silent as a mouse. you turn your head.

suguru looks meek.

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him. 

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ”everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh. 

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you. 

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly. 

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down. 

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him. 

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?” 

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy. 

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate. 

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be. 

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy. 

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.” 

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words. 

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit? 

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?” 

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust. 

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.” 

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute. 

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room. 

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up. 

you blink. 

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed. 

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?” 

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean. 

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being. 

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on. 

he’d rather die than deny you. 

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. 

no choice at all.

[randomwriteronline]

"Sweet little one, standing upright, to me you appear dressed in white. But your red nose, what wonders it does: shortens your life the longer it glows."

"A candle," Velika smiled.

"Correct." Mata Nui replied. Then, he offered another riddle: "Which part of the bird has never soared the skies but slithers instead upon the ground, and swims on the surface of the water without ever getting wet?"

"The shadow."

"Correct. Two parents have five daughters; each daughter has a brother, and each brother has five siblings. How many members compose this family?"

"Eight."

"Correct. A beast of long legs, of strength filled to the brim - yet no eyes adorn its head, its intelligence quite dim."

"Pinchers."

"Correct. Today is the third of seven days. In seven years, which of seven will today be?"

"The fourth."

"Correct. I am that which cannot be touched, but inhabits all living things; I am what kills them, burning quietly, and through their mouths the plume of my combustion shows in the cold."

"Oxygen."

"Correct. Through my long black neck breathes my red heart, hacking out smoke as warmth from me departs."

"A stove."

"Correct. She who fights the winds and waves from the bowels of the seas to maintain her treasure so far away, thin yet heavy, weak yet invincible: who is she?"

"The anchor."

"Correct. A ship rotted upon the shore: each plank that fell away was slowly replaced, until it was remade completely new. Yet from the rotten planks, preserved adeguately, a second ship was constructed in the image of the original. Which one then is the true ship?"

"Both and neither," Velika smiled. He tilted his head in his hand, amused. "You're really not good at this."

"An 'and' is not an answer." Mata Nui replied: "Please choose."

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

"A rethorical question is not an answer. Please choose."

"The one from preserved wood."

"I see. A crow, dying of thirst, struggled to get water from a deep vase lodged in a pebbled shore. In its desperation, it began piling rocks upon one another; and so it saved itself. How?"

"By piling them in the vase, forcing the water upward."

"Correct. Swells all around you, like a glove fitting; never shall it hold you, cold embrace fleeting."

"Fog."

"Correct. An unusual farmer plows through a barren snowy field, sowing black seeds in quick succession; what he reaps is just one fruit which feeds many over the years, and never wilts, but only lasts as long as it is not burnt or faded."

"The written word."

"Correct. It is one of the visages by which we can be recognized, odorless, colorless, impalpable - and yet it can reach us far away."

"The voice."

"Correct. It is what the rich lack and poor have plenty of, what the strong fear and the weak have power over, what the happy desire and the dead need."

"Nothing."

"Correct. What am I doing?"

"Stalling me."

Mata Nui smiled: "Correct."

Velika did not move.

"It's useless, you know," he said, grin frozen upon his fake Matoran face as it struggled to hide his true one: "You can't stop me from my goal with these little guessing games of yours."

"I was under the impression you quite enjoyed making riddles."

"I made you."

"You helped. It was admirable, indeed; but it was not your labor alone. You are not one for the practical sciences, after all."

"I made you. You are a soul, a thinking brain. I allowed you to be that."

"You, and others."

"Does the fine print matter?"

"Of course it does. You would wrongfully claim full ownership over the universe entrusted to me otherwise."

"I made them. They are sapient because I allowed them as much."

"And you wish to destroy them now, as they are past their use, and for them to comply and go quietly to you, without making a mess, as otherwise it would be quite the inconvenience."

"Of course."

"Fathers owe their children as much as their children owe them."

"They're not my children," Velika laughed loudly as if that was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard: "They are a successfully completed experiment! Archived and finished! I can't leave the mess of my previous project all over my desk if I want to start a new one, don't you think?"

Mata Nui did not move.

"You are awfully cruel in your insatiable curiosity." he noted simply. "Indeed, you are Teridax's father."

"I told you I don't have children."

"But we were your successors, were we not? A lonely god on a mindnumbingly long journey, one scientist in a team with delusions of grandeur."

"You are things I made. Things I gave awareness to. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

"Is this also your opinion of the universe within me?"

"Of course."

"Then you have no claim on us."

Velika raised his head from his palm and laughed. He laughed again, spitting out phonemes without a rhythm. He forced himself to laugh, because otherwise the confused wrath within him would have needed to explode in some other way.

"Pardon?"

"It brings a riddle to mind."

"I don't want a riddle. What did you just say?"

"Again, I was under the impression that you enjoyed posing riddles. At inopportune times most of all."

"Cut it. What did you say?"

"A woman bore her daughter, and decided it was not her duty to care for her: she still observed her growth over the years for sake of a morbid fancy, never intervening nor gaining any affection for her. At last the daughter found great happiness and fortune; and so her mother came, and demanded a part of her riches as compensation for giving birth to her. Was she right in requesting as much?"

"I said I don't want a riddle!"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Quit that! What did you say to me?"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"You insulted me, is that it? You insulted me?"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Shut up!"

"That is not an answer. Please choose."

"Fine! Fine, you broken piece of junk, fine. Repeat it, I didn't listen."

"A woman bore her daughter, and decided it was not her duty to care for her: she still observed her growth over the years for sake of a morbid fancy, never intervening nor gaining any affection for her. At last the daughter found great happiness and fortune; and so her mother came, and demanded a part of her riches as compensation for giving birth to her. Was she right in requesting as much?"

"No, she denied custody and has no say over her nor her belongings."

"Correct."

"So? What did you say?"

"I said the exact thing you repeated with your answer." Mata Nui replied. "You have shirked your responsability towards us, and you have no right to decide of our fate."

"You are things," Velika hissed: "Things are made!"

"We are people. People are made, too."

"People are born! They are thinking creatures!"

"Are we not, then?"

"No! You are things that I have given sapience to! You owe me life! Obedience! You owe me everything you are!"

"Are we then yours?"

"Yes!"

"By what virtue?"

"By virtue of creation!"

"By virtue of birth." Mata Nui repeated. "A virtue that we have agreed holds no water when a parent abandons their children."

Velika's eyes burned: "You are made," he insisted. "Not born."

"People are made, too. They are engineered by chance, put together by two others. The creation progress requires time and resources; afterwards, the new being needs to be programmed and taught what to do, what not to do, through trial and error."

"It's different. It's completely different. I gave you that intelligence. In people it's innate."

"From when? From the moment your cells are assembled? From the second you develop eyes? From the instant you are brought into the world, kicking and screaming? There is indeed an ability, innate, for understanding tasks and languages; but it all has to be instructed. Neither of us were born capable of speech, yet we could understand a language of our own, for that is how we were both built."

"Do not equate yourself to me. You are code, bits and pieces of electricity, the vague hint of a self."

"On that same electricity is based the neural system that is your 'I'."

"But I am your maker. I created you. Not the other way around."

"And so? You have denied custody of us. You refuse to recognize our personhood. Are you not our parent who abandons us, our creator who destroys us?"

"I have no children!"

"Then we do not owe you anything."

Velika raised his hand and grabbed the air, right where a neck should have been.

"I will kill you," he threatened: "I will annihilate you."

Mata Nui held his gaze without flinching: "That you can."

They remained still.

The room was empty.

"I had such knowledge to share... But it would have been too long to tell, I am afraid." he only lamented. "I have lived a long life, all in all - sometimes it has even been pleasant. A lousy god such as myself will not make much difference by now, alive or otherwise: my people have moved on from any whims that may have moved my requests once. Go on then, if it pleases you."

The hand twitched, but did not close.

It spasmed, clutching, hardening, but did not close.

Velika clenched his jaw, tightening his fist, but it did not close.

He tried, and tried, and tried, and tried, and tried; but it did not close.

"I will kill you," he hissed. But suddenly he wasn't sure he could.

Mata Nui waited.

Nothing happened.

His hand of thought - invisible, impalpable, barely real - grazed his creator's chin and lifted it slightly with his fingertips.

"What is it that the brilliant man standing before the machine he has made to do his bidding - to labor away endlessly in his stead, to travel where he would not, to learn what he could not, to sing and write and draw what he cannot - fears most of all?"

The Great Being did not answer.

Silence stretched over the small endless space the word should have been spoken into through his voice.

Mata Nui smiled.

"Leave." he ordered. "There is no place in this world for a god that treats its people like toys."

Velika lunged forward and grasped the Ignika in his hands.

By the time other beings arrived drawn in by the horrid noises, the body writhing and raving had lost its limbs, its bones, maybe even its skin. It clung to the golden artifact still somehow, trying desperately to claw at it, break it, unleash its wrath upon it as it continued to mutate the creature into something less and less able to function the longer it remained latched upon its surface by its own stubborn volition; it howled wordlessly, voice cawing through what was supposed to be its mouth in a garbled attempt at speaking, but there was no mind behind the gruesome wailing - just a violent, infinite, senseless anger.

It shrieked at them when they rushed to put it down, partly frightened to death by it, partly trying to spare it from the anguished existence it was bound to go on to live - screamed something, something that could have been 'obedience', or close enough.

Mata Nui did not stir from sleep.

[affectionate-team]

Another day, another log-in. The doors of Ramshackle open up once more to welcome their dear resident - their Yuu, their player.

Representatives from all dorms wait with bated breath, wondering who's going to get lucky and be allowed to give their welcoming speech this time. Some are confident, head held high and proud, words sitting at the tip of their tongue, ready to be spilled; others are anxious, fidgeting with parts of their uniform and checking themselves in a mirror - such an occasion requires one to look their best, all to make a good impression on you! And, after a few torturous seconds of waiting, spotlight lands on one of the many. Their face gleams under jealous stares of their disappointed schoolmates, a single bead of sweat rolling down the nape and bringing cool air to their skin. Everything has to be perfect for the player, and perfect it is - the words that have been rehearsed hundreds of time in the privacy of their room, the face expressions, the gestures - as they voice out wishes for another productive day and offer the log-in rewards.

To be chosen as a class partner is both a blessing and a curse. Rejoice those who have skills and smarts to demonstrate and brag about, poor are those who fall behind in studies. Leona suddenly finds a reason to skip out on a midday nap in favor of sitting out a history lesson, surprising both his classmates and Professor Trein. From time to time he even bothers to speak out, interrupting some poor kid - not like they'll do anything about it, a Kingscholar is not a force to be reckoned with; Azul and Riddle stare each other down, lifting hands at every question at the speed of light, completing tasks flawlessly, outshining everybody else with their vast knowledge to the point where teachers have to ignore them on purpose - after all, other students need their marks too... Though it doesn't stop the two from flaunting their exams results after finals roll around.

What do you mean "Twisted wonderland is not a romance visual novel"? Do they look like they care? Even the heaviest of Disney censor will not stop these boys from sneaking in a couple of flirty remarks. They WILL go against code if they have to. And if main story cannot be messed with, events are still a fair game, are they not? Watch Ace throw in bold pick-up lines and inquire about your type; it's the fifth time you're inviting him in the guest room, do you have a crush on him or something?? don't get shy now, of course he's just teasing! It's a shame that your choice of answers is so limited, the game brushes off his words way too easily...

And don't get me started at the Magic Mirror summons. To be selected as a member of the player's team is an honor like no other - that means their strength was recognized. Though some card combinations can be pretty... questionable. Placing, say, Leona and Malleus or Floyd and Riddle in one team would most likely result in a mess; be careful with your choice!

[magicmindless]

hey, idk if you're still taking requests for headcanons, but may i please have some headcanons for Kahuna?

Ah, here it is, thought I was going crazy (I think it’s been a year since some of these have been sitting in my inbox? Sorry in advance)

A HC List but it’s just Kahuna

- Is actually pretty friendly when he’s in work mode, but can be snarky and play jokes on his friends. But he’s overall a cool guy

- The surf shack building used to be owned by an older man who taught him the ropes, but then he retired and let Kahuna take over the surf shack, and it’s still thriving since

- Has a bad habit of talking about people behind their backs and he feels bad about it. There’ll be times when he says something embarrassing about someone else and then realizes “Oh… you weren’t supposed to know that. Forget what I said ok?”

- If Kahuna was an animal he’d be a capybara

- Can hold his breath underwater for a long time and pranks people with it sometimes, though it backfired once when Gremmie tried giving him mouth-to-mouth

- Speaking of Gremmie, he’s been one of his closest friends for a while and was the first person Kahuna taught how to surf (it was pretty rough but he got it)

- He likes going to spas. Nothing like having your hair washed and combed and then sitting in a hot tub after a long day of hosting surfing lessons

- He lets Utah and Nevada style and accessorize his hair. Braiding it, putting charms in it, stuff like that

- He gets mosquito bites easily so he carries bug spray with him at all times

- He doesn’t approve of Makailas business practices but he never really mentions it around her, but he still talks to her since she knows gossip of people not even from the mainland

- He’s accidentally spread dirt about Makaila as well to others who already don’t like her, but nothing has really been done (yet) so he thinks he’s in the clear (he’s not)

- He doesn’t mind tourists in terms of business, but they do cause problems for him. Ever since Makailas rentals and stuff, he gets more students for his surfing lessons which isn’t so bad but he doesn’t have much room to breathe anymore, plus some of the tourists are genuinely a pain. He has had to blacklist people from his lessons and his store, it’s that bad

- Hangs out with Okalani a lot. Makaila as thought that Kahuna might have a crush on her since he’s always around her, but he’s actually trying to make sure she’s being treated well by Makaila because he does not trust her in that aspect

- Though he’s outgoing back in Calypso he’s pretty reserved in other places he isn’t familiar with

- His favorite vacation spot (besides Calypso Island) is Sakura Bay, but his least favorite is Oniontown

- His favorite music is mostly rock music from the 50s and 60s which he plays in his store all the time

- He sometimes hired LePete to help clean his shop or help him with deliveries. He also tends to keep a close eye on him in case he causes trouble.

[dykevanny]

Sorry the mimic just fucking sucks

[galedekarios]

i don't know how to put this into words yet so it makes complete sense so bear with me while i gather my thoughts, but...

i think a lot of the criticism i have re: decisions bioware made with veilguard are (at least in part) the company's direct responses to the (in my eyes) often unfounded and disproportionate hate that inquisition received from the fanbase.

[skaruresonic]

Once more I must cite sources because folks assume you'll take their "nuh-uh" as a sufficient counterargument.

While there's no "official" count, the general consensus is that there are roughly 50 or more errors within the Encyclospeedia. Greeny has documented some of them, as well as CrystalMaiden77:

Sonic Encyclospeedia Errors: by CrystalMaiden77 on DeviantArt

These are purely factual errors. That's not counting the various formatting, spelling, and grammatical errors:

---

"The other writers don't currently have any way to ask for questions reliably" - Sonic Team regularly answer fan questions on Twitter, including Shiro Maekawa.

Dr. Crusher, Did you saw Shiro Maekawa response to someone... (tumblr.com)

"Silver has always been polite" - That is Flynn's own personal interpretation. And it's wrong.

Writings From A Field of Roses — Our monthly live show on YouTube, usually on the... (tumblr.com)

---

We've been having this long, drawn-out debate for years because there are many, many layers of inaccuracy, strawman, and ego-flexing going on, but I'll just drop this link to give you a crash-course on the broad strokes:

Encyclopedia Sonnica, ✂️ "Go read something else" (tumblr.com)

---

"ST have been using mandated material to govern Shadow as this edgelord over every writer in the past 14 fucking years" - Sonic Reddit invented the concept of Shadow mandates in response to Shadow's poor portrayal in IDW 19, which spread through fandom-wide games of telephone. There's no concrete proof they exist. Nor did Shadow-specific mandates seem to exist before issue 19.

The reason why IDW Shadow acts weird : r/SonicTheHedgehog (reddit.com) Behold, the reason everyone believes the fictitious... – @skaruresonic on Tumblr

The likelier explanation for why IDW!Shadow is a poor portrayal but Dark Beginnings is not is that Flynn receives more feedback on Shadow because he doesn't understand the character.

IDW Sonic "FAQ" - Google Docs

---

"Claimed games aren't strong enough when?"

Here:

---

If "98%" of references are "impossible to find," why are players complaining about the reference overload in Frontiers' message boards?

The constant attempts to reference past lore is kinda obnoxious. - Sonic Frontiers (gamespot.com)

Not to mention he straight-up plagiarized entire lyrics to a song from a fan band and did not credit them, just as a "reference":

Just in case you thought Ian Flynn putting song lyrics in dialogue was just a Sonic thing. : r/TwoBestFriendsPlay (reddit.com)

But you’re still standing here — Man, Flynn really hates #Playthegames, huh? What... (tumblr.com)

---

You're right, he doesn't hate Amy; he simply described her as "all over the place" and not-so-subtly put her and several other prominent girl characters down, calling Blaze the "singular kick-butt female character" among them, in order to imply his OC Tangle was going to fulfill a role none of them could.

His words. Not mine.

Game Informer Interview With Ian Flynn (lastminutecontinue.com)

---

“This is how Sonic is, by SEGA, and this is me basically spelling it out, for anyone who hasn’t quite figured it out to this point.” - Flynn

But you’re still standing here — “This is how Sonic is, by SEGA, and this is me... (tumblr.com)

---

Encyclopedia Sonnica, I was looking at some posts about Archie sonic,... (tumblr.com)

---

"He likes Team Hooligan? That's a problem now?"

It is if he's heavily implying his own fanon is games canon in a lore book that people pay for when it's not.

---

---

Lol the projection is strong in this one.

If he is a credible source on the basis that he, quote, is a "fan" of the series, then he should know something as basic how Chaos Control works within the context of the game in which the move debuted. You can't pick and choose. Either he's a credible source or he's not.

How Chaos Control works is not particularly obscure knowledge that only The Elitest of Sonic fans have.

The whole "Ian isn't an encyclopedia of perfect knowledge guys, come on" thing becomes especially ironic considering how vehemently you insisted the Encyclospeedia has no errors in it just because You Said So(tm).

Sure, Jan. Whatever you say.

---

"There are completely fair and respectful critiques of Ian Flynn out there that deserve to be heard and taken in. I am not saying his works are perfect and cannot be critiqued. This is just not how you do it lol."

I don't believe you.

Considering you lot go absolutely bananas whenever people contradict Flynn in any way, shape, or form, no matter how neutral the delivery or how heavily it comes attached with sources and screenshots...

...No. I don't believe you when you say you'll allow for "fair criticism," if there even is such a thing to you guys. Everything is considered "disgusting" and "mindless" hate to you, and this entire counterthread is proof of that. You literally opened your thread describing Greeny's points as evidence of a "disgusting" bias. Well, here I am, shoving the sources in your face. Look at them.

Oh, you'll "allow" the existence of opinions you hate, but only if you personally deem them acceptable enough? How very authoritarian gracious of you.

I have seen, with my own two eyes, someone complain that it's our fault that no one can bring up "reasonable criticism" without getting hounded anyway, as if the conclusion one ought to draw from that is Haters Suck(tm) and not that the call has always come from inside the house.

The harsh truth of the matter is this: people are not going to want to bring up any flavor of criticism around you. Ever. Especially not when you descend like a pack of hellhounds and stalk, threaten, and harass over the slightest disagreement.

People hide behind anons and have decided to confine Sonic discussion to private Discords because of the overreactions of people like you, who cannot grapple with reality and instead choose to project all that hate onto someone stating facts.

[iminaloine]

Something canaries something something Sam was the miner who ignored the canary something parallels to angler fish something something WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT AFTER ALL OF THAT???

[misteria247]

*vibrating in place*

Okay so, thanks to the lovely mutual @localcanadiancreature62 I've been been thinking about similarities between the four pine twins. Mainly Dipper and Stanley, and fam I think that maybe Dipper takes after Stanley a lot more than he does Ford. Let me explain.

Dipper's main motivations is protecting Mabel. While he loves the mystery and gaining knowledge, at the end of the day Mabel's the most important thing to him. Dipper gives up a lot for his older sister, so much so that when he's possessed by Bill and Bill mockingly asks who'd give everything up for their dumb sibling Mabel without hesitation replies-

"Dipper would."

And who else do we know who gives up everything for their sibling?

Stanley.

Stanley spent 30 years giving up his life, his identity, his remaining family, literally everything just to bring back Ford. Because Ford's more important than anything else. Just as Mabel is to Dipper.

Dipper also has an uncanny knack for spotting con artists. This kid is always suspicious of free offers and deals too good to be true. Examples of this are the first episode when Stan offers the twins something from the shop. And Mabel is quick to jump on board with it, not questioning a thing while Dipper immediately is like-

"What's the catch?"

Or during the Gideon Glee arch, when Gideon was doing his thing at the tent and his advertisements. Dipper wasn't buying it, and at several points outright scoffed at things that were clearly a scam. He's even more critical of it because his Gruncle Stan isn't Gideon's biggest fan and Dipper surprisingly takes Stan's words to heart. Which we see in the episodes like Dipper trying to be a man and Stanley praises him for standing up for what he believed in. And Dipper's attitude immediately brightened at it. Or the moment when Bill offered a deal to Dipper in exchange for a puppet. Dipper was incredibly hesitant and even asked a few times if that's all Bill wanted. Who else is like this?

Stan is.

Stanley is critical of anything that seems off. Always questioning if there's a catch or if something else is going on. He's not easily bought, and neither is Dipper.

And finally Dipper and Stanley believe that family is the most important thing.

Dipper when he's offered the apprenticeship from Ford his first reaction after excitement is-

"What about Mabel?"

Because Mabel is one of the most important things to Dipper. In fact this scene reminds me of the scene when Ford and his parents are in the office about his scholarship and while everyone else is focused on that, Stan and Ford's mom is the only one to ask-

"What about Stanley?"

Anyways, Dipper's biggest thing is family. This kid gets into dangerous situations to protect Mabel, Ford and Stan with everything he has. And is more than willing to die for them if it comes down to it. And Stanley is the exact same way. Just like Dipper, Stan will fight tooth and nail for his brother and nibbings till the very end.

In short I think Dipper takes more after Stanley than we realized. It's all there in the finer details and it makes me feral just thinking about it.

[starryjoy]

the OP deleted this truly absurd rant from under a post discussing shinigami eyes becoming bad but I absolutely need this on my blog because this is truly the worst and accidentally funniest rant I've ever read