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Thinking about the history of Prussia and shaking my head in disbelief

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have u ever seen that one twt comic w the deepsea fish on a beach looking up at a sunset bc that image destroys me everytime

i DO and "I never would've known" kills me EVERY TIME 😭😭😭 my baby...... my little guy ough so devastating so good thank u oz

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aria math

i missed kenwatt. still back to basics/hashing out a more grounded version of them :) plausibly pre-slash.

Seawatt hears an Omz Mask-possessed Kenadian was captured for the third or fourth time. He decides to go visit them.

WC: 1067 | divider

Seawatt makes the trek out to go see them, when he hears. It’s the third or fourth time they’ve been captured – and like the times before, it won’t be for long, which means he’s on a time limit. 

He’s slightly too late. By the time he tracks down which server they’re being held on and makes his way to the city, the prison is already destroyed, left a wreck of craters and rubble and hoppers burning like netherrack. Or maybe he’s just on time; he can see them, still perched on the destruction like a bird, weightless. 

“Ken,” he calls, and the figure turns, a smirk already etched into their painfully familiar face. 

Late last winter, well-known escapist, prison designer, and investigative journalist Kenadian had contacted him for an interview regarding the “world’s hardest prison” trend, which they’d been tirelessly debunking for years in a series that included Seawatt himself. Seawatt had understood, of course, where they were coming from, and harbored no hard feelings over the criticism – so when they’d apologized for their harsher commentary and asked if he’d be willing to offer his own perspective (ha) on the subject, he’d obviously agreed. 

Speaking to them in person had been surprisingly easy, as Kenadian had turned out to be far more laidback than their journalism would’ve led him to expect – and they’d clicked well in terms of their shared interest in glitches, niche mechanics, and telling stories by unconventional means. Seawatt found the escapist to be lively, passionate, entertaining, clever and witty and with a sarcastic streak a mile wide. It was impossible not to enjoy their company. The interview went smoothly, they slept at his apartment for a few days and took some extra b-roll footage of his life, and by the end of the whole affair, he considered them a friend. 

The video was never actually released, as Kenadian went MIA shortly after the two of them parted ways. Then, in the spring, they’d reappeared again, somehow having gained the ability to both fly and control storms of fiery iron hoppers, to destroy entire cities in widespread attacks, and killing hundreds – then thousands. 

Now, despite popular belief, Seawatt isn’t completely stupid. 

During part of his interview, he’d been asked about his opinion on Omziscool, Ken’s primary target at the time, and the crown jewel of the staged escape room epidemic. So, of course he recognized the smooth white mask covering half of Kenadian’s face from the onset – of course he remembered that hoppers were part of Omz’s signature and one of the things Ken most enjoyed mocking, of course he’d immediately realized that this was exceptionally out of character for someone like Kenadian, even if they didn’t yet know each other well. But looking at them now, Seawatt knows his gut was right. 

“Oh, it’s you,” they say coolly, floating gently down onto the pockmarked pavement before him, so that they can stand eye level with one another. Seawatt stands his ground, though they land uncomfortably close. “Hello, SeawattGaming. What are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” he replies. His heart beats harshly in his chest, imprisoned behind his ribs. “I came to see you.” 

There is some life behind their one visible eye – the gold one, which glows under the flickering firelight. There is some recognition, some cognisance of what they’re doing. It’s not much. When they take another step forward, Seawatt backs up. 

“Aw, how sweet of you!” they chirp, sounding more genuine than he expected. The hair stands up on the back of his neck. “Just for that, I’ll leave you be. You’re special, you know.” 

“You flatter me,” he says. Ken takes another step towards him; he takes another step away, like a dance. Every movement they make is fluid, calculated, as smooth and liquid as water. It’s nothing like the way he remembers their hands fluttering in excitement as they recounted their discovery of a new crawl glitch, or the quicksilver flick of their movements as they showed him how to manipulate his hitbox to clip through blocks, mechanics practiced and precise, reminiscent of some speedrunners he’s met. They feel dangerous, in a way that makes his skin crawl even though they’re not actively threatening him. It’s strange to hold that feeling next to his memory of them in his apartment’s tiny kitchen, in their pajamas, eyelids drooping and tail sweeping sleepily from side to side as they bite into a piece of plain bread, dry. 

“Besides, I’m not going to hurt anyone I know,” Ken continues blithely. “And I know you – like you, even. So you’re fine. My, how the tables have turned! Maybe you should debunk me this time, show the whole world what an awful person I am, what a fraud. Give them a whole new perspective.” They laugh, breathy, reach up with one hand as if to touch his face. “What do you say?” 

“The world already knows, Ken.” He works hard not to flinch away when their cold fingers land on his cheek, and succeeds. In a quiet voice, he says, “I would say you’ve gotten more media attention already than Omz ever did.” 

Again they laugh, a chilling noise. Then, abruptly, they switch tracks. “The crown is new.” 

“It is,” he agrees. 

“I like it,” they say, tapping his nose with their pointer finger before pulling away, feet effortlessly leaving the ground. “It suits you. Better get going, SeawattGaming. You’re no threat to me, so I won’t threaten you – but you shouldn’t stick around if you don’t wanna get caught up in something that you shouldn’t.” 

He looks them in the eye – the gold one, staring into it with pinpoint focus, tuning out everything else. The fire, the distant sirens, the oncoming storm, his own heartbeat. The mask. Seawatt ignores all of it and tries to talk directly to Kenadian, his friend, someone he thinks he could’ve had a real connection with. Someone who will break out of this prison like any other, he’s sure. They’ve got the determination for it, the pride, the strength of will. 

“Stay safe,” he says, rather than anything else. 

Ken tilts their head at him. “Will do.” 

The next he hears of them, even months after that, the mask has vanished and they’re being shipped to their own prison: Daedalus Labyrinth. Seawatt breathes a sigh of relief, and starts researching how to get on the visitation waitlist. 

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Doing the opposite of the disposable black girlfriend trope by inventing the "guy really really really crazy obsessed in love with their black girlfriend" trope

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Spellcasters hate this fact but if you just stick your fingers in their mouth while they're casting a spell with a verbal component it's literally more effective than a counter spell.

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Y’all are who I go to first to see if a video bangs or sucks ass.

My next video is probably gonna have 10 chapters and have a pvp fight or two (not normal)

Current Wato lifespans

from ??? To End Barrens was a Wato

After End Barrens a new one took over, and is currently. They have an expiration date now.

I want to try something like uh Bedrock.zip

Oh right

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My latest cartoon for New Scientist

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If you say you’ve never bought clothes influenced by a fictional character youre lying

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Ken if you’re pure of hear

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Secret life my beloved

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happy technoblade day for those who celebrate!!!

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oc guy moodboard

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throws her at you

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Serene, while this lasts

John Adams' son, Charles Adams, and Hercules Mulligan's son, John Mulligan 🪻