#monster!knack

[sonicasura]

*looks at @frenchie-sottises Knack designs: this, this, and this*

The idea of Knack being an entity powered by relics than made from them sounds so interesting. Everything about relics is already a huge mystery other than they can be found in structures that are usually guarded by Guardians and can power various machinery. The Hidden Land in the first game raises even more questions.

My own iteration on this idea would share some similarities to Spectrobes. The collectible creatures, who also share the same name, actually start as fossils. You have to excavate them first and awaken the sleeping Spectrobe with your voice.

Doctor Vargas finds a fossilized Knack on the pedestal. His chest orb is dormant but flashes when the younger scientist reaches out as if accepting to be taken. It takes a few years for Knack to awaken since energy is still needed than just a vocal command. His body is similar to living stone like with the trolls from Trollhunters so he is quite durable.

Relic energy affects his growth and can be gathered by touching relics. Dispersing it or taking too much damage will make Knack shrink. He's still mute when little as his vocal cords aren't developed enough for usage. Knack can grunt or roar though but not talk.

When I do draw my own version, there will be added details than just his normal canon design. Knack gains fur and thick spikes once he surpasses 10 ft. He'll have a tail that becomes similar to an ankylosaurus. Knack also has a scaly hide which is a mix between beetle chitin, fish and reptile scales.

Can't forget hooked claws since he tends to climb a lot. Basically a chimera version of Godzilla that can become a full blown Kaiju. As for the element and gem transformations, they are adaptations than armor. Each shifts temporarily shifts his form to suit the item in question. It's easy to see what material Knack used as it is more prominent.

Simplified Examples

Ice: Thick blue fur and clusters of ice on his back

Wood: Grassy mane with wooden quills

Metal: Prickly metallic hide paired alongside serrated blades

Stealth: Chameleon hide coated in reflective scales

Guardian: Humanoid with all inhuman traits as tribal armor

Dark, Brittle, Sunstone, Massive, Diamond, Vampire, Speed, Power, Saber and Shooting would operate a bit differently. They are more like enhancements similar to weapon parts from Spectrobes. Boost some stats and weaken others with physical changes such as Harumitey with its defensive Lazos part here. 👇

There is a bit more worldbuilding but I'll save that for another post. What do you think so far?

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[c-rowlesdraws]

anyone ever thinking of sending me a rude ask needs to consider that I am blogging from here:

and be nice and gentle to me accordingly

[talesofsonicasura]

What’s this I hear about a troll hunter au

Sorry for the very very late answer as there was no notification but I have a few Trollhunter related AUs. Heartstone Healer which involves Jim being a golem similar to the character Knack, Uncle Leon where Resident Evil Leon is Toby's uncle, To Become Maddening where Jim gets trapped in the Madness Combat universe as a child then returning three years later as an experienced killer, and Dance of Destiny where Jim astroprojects into the Monster Hunter world and become a hunter with tribal style magic.

[unexpectedbrickattack]

giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair at the way you draw and write (!!!) peppino. he is so......

-babygirl, thats why its so fun and easy 😊

[monster-noises]

For the ask thing: 21. What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year? and 11. Something you want to do again next year? Apologies if one or both of these were already asked!

sorry for the late reply! I had to take some Images... As is true every year this year the New Thing in my Place of Residence is all the Art I acquired, bringing me up to 183 pieces On Display in my leeeeetle apartment vwv)/ I really do love being surrounded by art in my home and I'm always looking to add to the collection (all new stuff circled in yellow, if there's no yellow then they're all new)

( I Do have the sources for all of these hanging around, got and kept all the business cards at TCAF and I got all my receipts from my online orders.. I do not have the time to collect them tonight but I Will come back to it or will hunt them down if anything strikes anyone's fancy ) As for what I'd want to do Again? ah.. going back to TCAF I guess?? Do another haunted house with my friends? A Lot of this year was bummerific and Undesirable and there is little I'd wish to repeat.. =<=

[naivesilver]

my two adopted daughters they share custody of a scooter and are falling to pieces as we speak

[jacqcrisis]

Question I've had for awhile: How do the werewolves work? Like do they take time off for their, ah, monthly?Are there modern criteria or places the wolves while they're transformed?

*rubs my hands together furiously* okay, so first thing is that magic in this world ebbs and flows throughout the months and especially over the year. The full moon is when you can expect the best outcome for any arcane craft you are planning on doing as that is when magic is at it's height. It's also when the body will experience the least amount physical stress from the usage of magic, and this is both true for witches and some otherly evolved.

Secondly, werewolves are technically in a group of devils that have a form of primordial, under-developed magic, along with things like vampires, selkies, kelpies, etc etc etc. For the hounds, this is specific to their shapeshifting which they can have some control over for most of the month if the individual werewolf has practiced and trained be able to shift on command. Though this is an incredibly physically taxing process outside of the full moon and it's easier to be able to train this skill if the practice starts when they are younger when their two forms haven't quite separated yet. In modern times, this has fallen out of practice in more populated parts of the U.S.

On the full moon, when magic is at it's height for the month, this shift is triggered automatically at sunset and they are locked into that form until sunrise. By various, necessary labor laws, werewolves have to take that night off, partially for safety concerns, mostly for Obfuscation concerns. You don't want some non-magical person walking by and seeing the werewolf from Van Helsing getting the zoomies in an office building cause he stole Debra from accounting's stapler. Again.

Some spend this time at home with the rest of their immediate families, some in more rural areas go zipping around the fields or the forest or some hiking trail close by. In Fairglenn, the medium sized park that sits at one corner of the werewolf block has a 'charity' evening on the full moon where volunteers and special enchantments ward away the have-nots as the more canine shaped locals let loose for the evening. This night and these enchantments used to not exist until a certain restaurant owner started funding the project to give the mostly cooped up werewolves a chance to breathe and an easier commute home as they used to have to either drive or pay to get bussed out of the city every month if they wanted to not spend the night inside their apartments.

Thankfully, due to this being the night most witches are being witches, a lot of the magically owned businesses who employ werewolves have a severe dip in patronage. So while Majorie's can get a little short staffed (depending on if someone is sick or got fired) in the back on these nights, it's also not generally busy because most of their customers are doing either magic or religious shit depending on what floats their boat. Sometimes they even just fucking close if it's like... a rainy Tuesday and only Gary and his newspaper are coming in.

[sonicasura]

Kaiju Cores and Relics

I decided to expand more on the Knack x Kaiju No.8 concept from my asks. I'm including some things from Knack 2 alongside a few Species Swap shenanigans. The latter can be found at the bottom! Let's get started!

A good chunk of Knack's new moveset like the Sunstone Shield stems from experimenting with Kafka. Both want to get a better handle on their powers so don't be surprised at the sometimes whacky shit they get into. Lucas and Reno may had to melt Kafka out of a ice block once.

Knack is the first 'kaiju' to be marked for alive capture by the Defense Force. It's pretty clear that someone had created the golem and the higher ups want to know who. Knack barely escaped Vice Captain Soshiro multiple times thanks to his size manipulation alongside usage of the environment.

Lucas often sends letters to Charlotte, Ryder and the Doctor. He does mention his new friends in them but nothing about Kafka's unique condition. Ryder finds out when an group camping trip goes wrong.

Kafka once terrorized a horde of goblins. He gotten separated during a trip in the woods and the goblinfolk thought he would be an easy target. Rumors of a skull faced demon disguising as a human quickly spreads afterwards.

Knack wears a cat costume to walk around in public. Thanks to his small size, people think he's an eccentric mute little kid. Kafka definitely lied that Knack was his son and Lucas being his nephew so the two could get visitor passes for 3rd Division base.

Story time goes a bit wrong when small golem mentions the times he got blown up or poisoned on his first big adventure. Kafka and Reno were definitely sweating to hear Knack had been on the end of a giant teleporting mech. Nevermind the massive doomsday prophecy almost wrought by a billionaire's greed.

Kaiju No.10 vs Vice Captain Soshiro and Knack. Also the time Lucas brought a mech suit to aid the 3rd Division after convincing Charlotte. The officers absolutely didn't expect some peculiar help but takes it.

"How To Keep Your Dad Friend From Killing An Idiotic Man" Or Knack tries to stop Riot No.8 before he kills Isao. High enough friendship with both sides of Kafka, sunstone barriers and the new Relic Stockpiler are his best tools here.

Kaiju No.8 terrorizes High Goblin City. Or how Kafka officially made himself Enemy #2 to Gundahar in a short amount of time. You can't exactly trap his friends in a super hostile environment and expect him to not bust down the gate.

Lucas' gadgets become very invaluable to Kafka's friend group. Especially when Reno and Iharu get attacked by Kaiju No. 9 during their first mission. Or how the Time Dilator plus Freeze Rounds are a perfect match to stall dangerous threats.

Kafka has a built in cult radar and it immediately goes off upon meeting Xander. His golems also seem to agitate Ai so that's another red flag right there. Kafka secretly requests Charlotte to do some spying just in case.

(Special Species Swap: Golem)

Kafka's Golem form is around 2'6 at his smallest size and 34'8 at his largest. Black relics serve as his hair/fur/scales with a teal claw shaped jewel on his chest orb. When increasing in size, Kafka's visage looks similar to his kaiju form but if it had a tail.

Himbo accidentally discovers an unknown artifact and is turned into a Relic Golem. Kafka freaks out for a good five minutes before running over to Lucas. Thankfully the transformation is more controllable like an Off/On Switch and doesn't have an alternate personality to it.

Guaranteed mirror moment between two golems. Knack feels less lonely despite his concern about Kafka dealing with new side effects. The image of his older friend sneezing and falling into relics pieces is the golem's most haunting thought.

Guaranteed freakout when Kafka accidentally combines with Knack. (Think Co-OP mode in Knack 2.) It was definitely weird since both can hear each other's thoughts amongst other things. Kafka and Knack tend to combine if the situation calls for it.

Apparently Ai can also control their new golem form. It definitely feels weirder than manipulating Kafka's human body but not by much. Should Ai be in control then the gem on his chest orb will glow green to signify the swap.

Kafka uses this new form to avoid Vice Captain Hoshina and defend himself against General Isao. The Defense Force definitely mistakes him for being Knack's creator after the former incident as he swaps before Soshiro finds him. Sunstone Barriers still sit at the top of Kafka's favorite list.

Element Powers Up go a bit awry. Or Kafka almost becomes a walking forest fire when he tries to do a Relic Tornado with Wood armor. Apparently relics are good firestarters than just sticks and friction.

That's all I have for now. Until next time folks, I'll see you later!

[princessbrunette]

boxer!rafe had his anger mostly under control. thats what the boxing was for. but no one’s perfect. there were times he’d slip up.

he’d developed the knack for being able to ignore the other men in the locker room at the fighting grounds. he had his own upcoming fights to worry about, his own family to feed — whilst he used to be a sucker for a good argument, it had become the least of his concerns. they knew that about him, therefore they knew what would get under his skin.

“ayeee, it’s pretty boy!” one jeered as he stepped into the locker room — sore, toned body trudging over to his usual locker to retrieve his stuff so he could get out and go home to you. he was used to the nickname, infact it had even been self proclaimed at some points on the ring. girls held up ‘pretty boy’ signs during his fights, upon winning multiple fights and climbing the ranks he was gifted a chain with ‘pretty motherfucker’ engraved on the pendant. it was nothing new to him.

the chatter continues in the room amongst the men, and he figures he can let his guard down now, knowing they wouldn’t be testing him. they’d heard of his rage through stories, rumours that he’d been in jail for killing a cop in his past. it intrigued people, wanting to see how far they could push him. just as the cameron boy is getting his gym bag together to leave, he’s brought into the conversation once more.

“right? i wanna start seein’ some newer faces in the crowd i’m gettin’ tired of the regulars.” the same douche that addressed rafe when he entered speaks, eyes flickering over to the younger guy in amusement. “hey cameron, got anyone you can bring to spice things up around here? how ‘bout that pretty wife of yours? maybe she can motivate me before the fight—”

he doesn’t get to finish his taunt, before in a flash rafe had pinned him the locker with a crash, doors rippling and padlocks clattering. he presses his arm into the man’s neck, jaw clenched and vein popping out his neck.

“fuck you say? huh? nah, go ‘head repeat yourself.” rafe threatens, practically growling through bared teeth at the man. the other fighter goes to shove him back, but the cameron man is unmovable. if there’s one thing he doesn’t play about, it’s you.

rafe stumbles back slightly, but it’s only to wind up and slam his fist into the man’s face when he dared to smile. the other men start to get involved now, trying to pull rafe off but it only made him angrier. “think that’s funny? yeah?” he yells, and punches the man again, the time harder. his skin cracks and blood splashes onto his knuckles as he continues. he knew this was going to result in at least a week suspension from the gym, and that was with the gym owner being fond of rafe. he shoves himself off eventually, the man groaning on the floor in pain.

full of adrenaline, rafe picks up his bag and heads to leave, but not without spitting out a venomous “lemme hear you talk about my wife again. i’ll kill you. a’ight?”

he’s not proud of himself by the time he’s arrived home. it’s been a while since he’d gotten angry like that, violent outside of professional boxing. it’s so soft in your shared home when he arrives, and it makes him feel ashamed. it smelled like you’d been baking fresh cookies, the house clean just for him. it melts him, because sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still the monster he used to be. something that didn’t belong here.

he stops in the doorway to see you napping on the couch, looking delicate like a petal that had fallen off a flower, drifted in the wind and had just landed there perfectly. the small bump that had only just begun to show through your dress strains ever so slightly against the material and he scratches at his cheek. he shouldn’t be acting like this. not when fatherhood is approaching.

he busies himself off to the shower, hoping to wash the day from him. not long later, the sound of the water woke you — and you appear in the bathroom quietly, stripping yourself of your clothes and climbing in behind him. you press a soft kiss to the centre of his back because you could tell it’s tense, a telltale sign that he’d had a rough day. you don’t need to speak, not yet anyway as he relaxes slightly at your touch — feeling your tits press against him from behind and your swollen tummy when you lean forward. he lets out a long sigh, head running beneath the water.

hugging him from behind, you peer round to see his bruised knuckles. he hadn’t come home with those for a long time, he’d usually wrap them if he was going to spar or whatever.

“what happened?” you can’t help yourself, curiosity getting the better of you.

he presses his lips together, caught. he doesn’t wanna tell you what they said, make you uncomfortable. it’s not necessary and it would only make him mad all over again. he runs his knuckles under the water, ridding them of any of the left over dried blood that he wasn’t sure was his.

“ah i uh… i lost my temper… a little. s’not important.” he huffs, peeking briefly over his shoulder at you. you don’t question it, knowing it was potentially a sore subject. he feels another kiss on his back.

“s’okay.” you’re so nurturing, so gentle. your hands slide around his hip bones, caressing the veined skin on his lower stomach above his cock. the appendage jumps once realising what you were after. maybe it didn’t take long because of the soft kisses and your body pressing to his, paired with the day he’d had — but he’s hard in no time when you start palming at him.

he tips his head back under the water, the droplets racing down his toned back and shoulders as you slowly tug at him from behind, doing your best to relax him. “s’okay rafe.” you whisper once more. “you’re home now.”

he certainly was.

[emacrow]

Danny the universal immortal babysitter. Pt 1

Danny had to have a side hobby during his after his debut as King of ghost zone, and he can't get a job in amity park without everyone trying to make it easy for him. Sam suggested babysitting.

Danny finds out he has a good knack for caring for kids pretty easily, from humans, to ghosts, to monsters and demons, then it became more weirder over the years as the new kids he began to babysit throughout other universe has powers which he helped them control easily like the Kent's without any problems starting as he have the kid leash backpack strap ready for the young toddler all for free of course when he has endless amount of richness in the ghost zone.

Until his newest assignment was the Bruce Wayne's son who seem to have a history of blacklist review from the babysitters themselves that this kid is the devil in disguise..

Danny laugh a bit considering the devil himself is pretty much a chill dude in Los Angolos..

The kid can't be that bad right?

New post

[spidernuggets]

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjtjfiadhus my brain just said how Jason would react to his S/O kissing down his chest, but specifically kissing down his y incision. He might hate it. It might turn him on. My brain is going feral and I need it—

Somewhere in the middle of your relationship, where Jason was getting comfortable being more open with you, he allowed you to see and touch his scars. Obviously, it took him a long while for himself to accept that these scars are permanently on him, in contrast to you immediately accepting every inch of him the moment he revealed his bare skin to you.

It took a longer while for him to let you lightly graze your fingers along his scars. And when the two of you began to become sexually intimate with each other, he'd guide your hands as to where he's okay with you touching.

You really didn't mean to trigger him when you were straddling his lap with your hands resting along his jaw, initiating a long and slow make-out session with him, who was shirtless, on your couch. Then your hands went down to hold his neck, your lips following suit.

You were just too in the moment when your kisses quickly moved to where his large autopsy scar started.

That's when Jason jolted with a big flinch, his reflexes making his hands move from your waist to your shoulders, pushing you back, harder than he'd meant to.

He stutters a quiet string of apologies, lifting you off his lap and walking to your shared bedroom in a hurry. A pang of guilt slapped you in the face, immediately regretting to contain your neediness.

You wanted to follow him to apologise, but you knew he needed some time alone. So you stayed on the couch, continuously picturing the horrified look on his face. You wanted to cry, but it wasn't about you. It was about Jason. You knew his boundaries, and you crossed them.

A few hours in, you were still on a couch, now with a cup of lukewarm coffee in your hands, patiently waiting for Jason to come out so you can apologise.

So when you heard the creak of the door opening, your posture straightened and put the coffee onto the table in front of you.

You waited for Jason to say something as he sat beside you, now with a long sleeved shirt on.

"I'm sor-" You quickly cut off his apology.

"Don't you dare say that, Jay. It was my fault. I knew where you drew the line and- and I crossed that line. I didn't mean to- I really didn't, I just-"

It was Jason's turn to interrupt you as he gently took hold of your chin, locking your lips with yours.

"I forgive you," he mumbles through the tender kiss.

A month or two later, when you entered the front door after a long day of a morning shift at work, you heard a bang coming from the bedroom in which you quickly ran towards it, only thinking of the worst that could happen with Jason.

When you opened the door, a trashed room was revealed. Clothes dishevelled on the floor, the knick knacks from your windowsill were knocked over, and the full-length mirror was slightly cracked.

Standing in front of the mirror, Jason stood, only in his boxers, his face was red, his nose was runny, and his eyes were bloodshot. But what stood out the most were the red lines over his body, particularly over his scars, to what you assumed were harsh scratch lines, coming from his own fingertips.

You dropped all your things and took one step forward, testing to see if he's let you come into close contact with him, which he usually doesn't. This case, it might've been serious because he whimpers your name, failing an attempt of trying to reach out to you as his hands just fall limp to his sides.

You quickly rush over to him, holding his face in your hands, wiping away his thick, salty tears.

You can hear the barely audible whispers of self insults from him. "I'm hideous." "I'm a monster." "How could you love me?"

You shsuh him by gently pushing your lips to his dry ones. You then ask a "Can I?" In a hush whisper, referring if you can touch his scars.

In hesitancy, he nods a slow yes. You start off easy. With his hands. A long scar that went over his hand, just stopping at the wrist. You gave it a kiss. Followed by the scar next to it. You do the same with his other hand.

Slowly, you finish kissing the scars that cover his arms. You do the same to the ones scattered all over his body. His knees, his thighs, his calves, his spine, his lower back, his shoulders.

You saved the big and most obvious one for last. His autopsy scar. Before your lips came into contact, you started with your fingers. You traced the Y shaped burden, drawing a few imaginary hearts and stars here and there.

The only thing stopping Jason from proposing to yoh right now was the lack of a garnet ring. He absolutely adored you, thinking how an angel like you can even love, let alone touch someone like him.

He then broke down, more tears cascading his face when the first kiss landed on the right side of his chest. But this time, he didn't push you away. When you looked up to see if you could continue, he gave you a slight nod. You gave him a small smile and continued your journey down his torso.

For the first time in an incredibly long while, probably since he first got adopted and became Robin, he felt loved. He felt wanted. And that was all you.

You lifted yourself back up. Jason's tears had dried. You lean your forhead to his. You whisper to him how much you love him. How much he means to you. How much he deserves to be loved.

And from that moment, Jason let you love all of him. He let you look at him, and he let you touch him. And from that moment, little by little, Jason started to love himself too.

It was another while before yoh and Jason initiated more sexual advances. But when you did, it was back on the couch, back to you straddling his lap, back to him shirtless and back to a slow make-out session.

It was back to your lips trailing down his jaw and onto his chest. When your lips touched his autopsy scar, you could've sworn on your mother's grave that you heard a whine out of him.

You looked up and saw his head thrown back, as well as his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Your suspicions were confirmed when he whimpered a "Please, baby. Please, give me more," in which you happily complied.

Your kissing travelled every inch of the large scar, including smaller ones scattered along his waist, meeting up to the messy, black happy trail that led to his waistband.

[samuelsdean]

Stitch Me Up

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: for dean, every scrape, every gash, was a twisted plea for your touch.

genre: angst

word count: 0.5k

author's notes: i wrote this at 3 am on my notes app while simultaneously rewatching spn because i'm insane and i'm a huge advocate of touch-starved!dean.

THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD WAS DEAN'S CONSTANT UNPLEASANT FOREWARNING THAT DEAN HAD RETURNED—HE WAS HOME. Sprawled on the floor, another injury marring his flesh, and he sees you right there in front of him. He could see the anger in your eyes, could feel the fury that bubbles in your gut is ceaseless, a familiar dance with the ever-present terror.

For Dean, every scrape, every gash, was a twisted plea for your touch.

Dean loves it when you touch him, when you lay your hands gently on his skin, careful not to cause him more pain than what he is dealing with at the moment. He loves it when you clean his wounds while going off on another tangent as to how he should be more cautious—threatening him that next time, you would not be there to treat him; yet, every time, not one did you miss his homecoming, when he comes home bloodied, the first thing you do is come running and restoring him to full health. He craved your tirades, the harsh scoffs, and thinly veiled threats that were your flimsy shield against worry. Each rant was a desperate battle cry, a plea for him to be careful.

Yet, Dean could not help himself. He reveled in your ministrations, the gentle contrast to the fire of your anger.

Dean loves it when you tend to him because it is proof that you care.

And he craves it—craves you—your presence, your touch—everything. He thinks it is sickening how much he has grown to crave you. Because he thinks he does not deserve you, and he knows that the universe always tries to play a sick joke on him.

It was a warped version of his affection born from a life spent in the shadows. Love, for him, was a dangerous dance, a promise of heartbreak waiting to happen. People he cared about had a knack for disappearing, leaving him with the cold comfort of solitude. Hunting was a drifter's existence. A life with no room for roots or dreams. Letting someone in, and building a family, was a recipe for disaster.

It is a lonely life being a hunter. One could never have the chance to put down roots because there is always a monster to hunt, a demon to exorcise, and a case to solve. Loving someone and having a family is just a foolproof way of getting yourself hurt. Yet, here he was, craving the very thing he swore to avoid. It was a sickness, a yearning that gnawed at his soul.

Because the truth, the terrifying truth, was that Dean could not bear the thought of being truly alone.

The sting of disinfectant was a cruel reminder of his twisted reality. As you patched him up, his eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a touch of vulnerability. At that moment, Dean gave you a glimpse of his plea for something more than just mending—a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a place in a world that felt increasingly fragile, right beside you.

But the question remained, a silent echo in the tense air: could you give him what he craved without sacrificing your own heart in the process?

[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[nightly-ruse]

Wow I wonder what this flashy cat is for

Hmmm rather golden aren’t u Mx

(ID- The cat is facing the right with their face looking at the “camera”, one neon green eye with brown flecks in their eyes and nose. They have very crazy fur with a shag like hairstyle, wing like ears, and a tufty nose. Their mouth is open with two fangs poking out in a mischievous but happy face. Orange tabby with a white chest, chin, leg fur, and inner ear tufts. A tuft of fur is on their head. Neon stars are all around them and the background is golden. End ID)

[pretzel-box]

I need Sebastian's reaction to some divers flashing little octo boy🙏🏼🙏🏼

SQUIDDLE ME THAT

words: 2,1k

tags: octopus hybrid reader, platonic relationship with sebastian, sebastian gets protective

authors note: I wrote the part before the flashing scene yesterday and had to add your request at the end, hope you don't mind some extra content!

Having a little octopus hybrid running loose was a challenge on its own. God forbid that Sebastian take his three eyes off you for even a second—you'd either wilt from loneliness or start creating a mess in a bid to reclaim his attention.

One such instance involved you folding his newly sorted files into funny little paper boats, which you then gently rocked over a random puddle that had started to develop in the corner of his shop. The first time you did this, Sebastian was initially impressed that you'd found something to do on your own. He even joined in, taking a sheet of printed paper and folding it into a rather shoddy boat, chuckling until he realized—these were his important assets!

Sebastian learned quickly from that incident. He made it his mission to keep you occupied, providing you with paper and pencils to draw pictures instead. Soon, his shop was filled with your artwork, pinned up on every wall. He couldn’t help but find your efforts endearing—most of your drawings were of the two of you, and they filled his heart with a warmth he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

“You know, I think you're starting to develop an eye for ar—” Sebastian began to say, but as he turned around, you were gone. You had simply vanished from sight. However, the trail of suction-cup marks on the floor was a clear indicator that you'd slipped through the vent and were now somewhere outside the shop.

Panic surged through him as he quickly made his way out, calling your name and checking every room. You were small and had a short attention span—surely, you couldn’t have gotten far.

And then he saw it. You were standing face-to-face with a Squiddle. The scene was bizarre: the Squid Monster hovered slightly above the ground, its ‘eyes’ locked onto you with what could only be described as confusion. You, on the other hand, were trying to mimic the creature, leaping up and attempting to hover in the air, only to be defeated by gravity each time.

Sebastian froze for a moment, his panic shifting to a mix of concern and disbelief. The Squiddle seemed more perplexed than hostile, perhaps unsure of what to make of this smaller, more enthusiastic "squid" that was now mimicking its every move. You, in your innocent curiosity, were completely absorbed in your game of imitation, oblivious to the potential danger.

Sebastian approached cautiously, not wanting to startle either of you. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly, trying to get your attention without alarming the Squiddle. “What are you doing over there?”

You turned to him, eyes wide and full of excitement, as if proud of your new friend. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat seeing how happy you were, but he knew he had to get you away from the creature before anything went wrong.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, okay? We’ve got plenty of drawing to do back at the shop.”

Reluctantly, you took his hand, casting one last curious glance at the Squiddle before allowing Sebastian to lead you away. The creature watched you go, still floating in place, before it finally drifted off, no longer interested in the odd encounter.

Back at the shop, Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. He knelt down to your level, ruffling the top of your head gently. “You’ve really got a knack for finding trouble, you know that?”

You gave him a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, how about we stick to drawing for a while, huh? Maybe we can work on some more pictures of us. Just... let’s keep the paper boats on hold for now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, and Sebastian led you back inside, silently vowing to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.

Sebastian! You there?” a male voice called out as a customer clambered through the vent. Sebastian, already familiar with the type of people who usually wandered into his shop—rude pricks deserving their prison sentences—acted quickly. Without a second thought, he wrapped you in a blanket and gently but hurriedly stuffed you into a spacious locker, hiding you from the potentially mean human.

“Ah, welcome~” he greeted the customer with an air of nonchalance, shifting into his usual role as a shopkeeper. He led the man through a small conversation, maintaining his outward calm even though his thoughts were with you.

Meanwhile, inside the locker, you pressed your arms and tentacles against the metal walls, trying to push your way back to Sebastian. The dark, cramped space fueled a growing sense of anxiety. You didn’t understand why he’d suddenly hidden you away like this. Did you do something wrong? Did he stop liking you?

Fear and confusion spiraled in your little head until they became too much to bear. The only logical response, as far as you were concerned, was to scream. Tears streamed down your face as you wailed loudly, feeling abandoned and terrified. The darkness was cold, and being alone felt like the worst punishment imaginable.

Sebastian, who was busy trying to offload some junk onto the prisoner, froze when your piercing scream cut through the conversation. The customer blinked in surprise, glancing toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh, faulty alarm system,” he lied, forcing a smile. “This place is falling apart, you know? I’ll get it fixed. Now, about that flashlight you were interested in…”

But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with pure distress. Sebastian’s heart clenched with guilt. The customer raised an eyebrow but seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You might want to take care of that. Sounds like something’s dying in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Sebastian muttered, barely containing his irritation as he hurried the man toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget to tell your non-existing friends about the shop!”

As soon as the customer was out of sight, Sebastian practically “sprinted” back to the locker. Your cries were breaking his heart—he hadn’t meant to scare you, but in his haste to protect you, he’d overlooked how you’d feel being stuffed in there.

He flung the locker door open and immediately pulled you out, wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, holding you close as you continued to sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. Sebastian felt like the worst person in the world for making you feel this way. “I was just trying to keep you safe,” he explained softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t want that guy to see you. But I shouldn’t have locked you up like that. I’m sorry.”

Gradually, your sobs began to quiet, though you still held onto him tightly, afraid he might push you away again. Sebastian continued to whisper apologies and reassurances, promising that he would never do something like that again.

Finally, you lifted your head, looking at him with tear-streaked eyes. “You’re okay,” he said gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and Sebastian could feel the tremble in your small body slowly subside. He stood there for a long moment, holding you close, letting you know through his actions that you were safe and loved.

After a while, he carried you over to a cushioned seat, sitting down with you still wrapped in his arms. “You’re my little partner, okay?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I’m always going to take care of you. Just… no more screaming like that, alright? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You nodded weakly, sniffling but feeling a bit better now that you were back in his comforting embrace. Sebastian gave a small, relieved smile, brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s better,” he said, rocking you gently. “Let’s just stay here for a while. No more hiding, I promise.”

——

It was an unusually busy day in the shop, with a steady stream of prisoners coming through the vents, all of them more obnoxious than the last. Sebastian had been on edge, keeping a close eye on you as you busied yourself with drawing on a scrap of paper behind some boxes to hide you out of the sight from the visitors. He didn’t want a repeat of the locker incident, so he made sure you were always within arm’s reach.

But even Sebastian couldn’t anticipate everything.

As a particularly rough-looking prisoner stomped into the shop, his eyes darting around suspiciously, you instinctively curled a little closer to Sebastian. The man was big, with a scarred face and a sneer that made your skin crawl. Sebastian noticed your discomfort and subtly shifted his body to block the prisoner’s view of you.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked, his tone curt and to the point.

The prisoner didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over the various items on the shelves. “Just browsing,” he muttered, though there was a malicious glint in his eyes that set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the counter. “We don’t have all day. Either buy something or get out.”

The prisoner’s sneer widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing. As if on a whim, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a flashbeacon. Before Sebastian could react, the prisoner activated it, directing the blinding flash of light straight at you.

You let out a terrified yelp, your sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself, curling up and covering your eyes with your tentacles as best as you could. But the damage was done—the intense flash had disoriented you, leaving you scared and vulnerable.

Sebastian’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, shoving the prisoner hard against the nearest wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, his voice dripping with fury.

The prisoner barely had time to register what was happening before Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, pinning him to the wall with a strength that belied his usually calm demeanor. “You think you can just walk in here and pull something like that?” Sebastian growled, his three eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’ve got some nerve.”

The prisoner, now realizing he’d severely miscalculated, struggled to speak, his face turning red as he choked out, “It… it was just a joke!”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, making it clear he wasn’t amused. “That ‘joke’ could have seriously hurt them,” he spat, nodding toward you. “You don’t mess with my shop, and you sure as hell don’t mess with them.”

With a final shove, Sebastian released the prisoner, who staggered back, clutching his throat and gasping for air. “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.”

The prisoner didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the vent, shooting one last fearful glance at Sebastian before disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Sebastian took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger still coursing through his veins. Then he turned to you, his expression softening as he saw you huddled on the floor, still reeling from the flash.

He rushed over to you, kneeling down and gently pulling your tentacles away from your eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, but you could see the concern etched on his face. Slowly, you uncurled from your protective ball, reaching out for him. Sebastian didn’t hesitate—he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should’ve protected you better. But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, your small body still trembling slightly, but his warmth and the steady beat of his heart began to calm you down. You knew Sebastian was strong, and as long as you were with him, you felt safe.