learnwithnohatolba

[kiame-sama]

in our world, we have monsterfuckers, the shape of water, more monster/human-relationship fiction, and sex toys designed to look like something an animal/monster would have. in the au, how would the reverse be? is there a market for humanfuckers? would idia have to hide all his sex toys and smut?

Adults content under the cut, by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content

Azul, Jade, Floyd, Riddle, Idia, Lilia, and (surprisingly) Leona are the ones really considered to be Humanfuckers.

~~~~~~~~

There are a bunch of Humanfuckers in Monster AU TWST. Most merfolk are big into Humanfucking and bemoan the fact that Humans are Extinct. To merfolk, Humans were peak beauty standards and even relics of Humans or their likeness is used for sex toys of varying types. From foot-shape, to tongue shape, and even genitals, many monster folk have made sex toys in the likeness of Humans despite Humans being extinct.

Trottr is the TWST AU's version of Tumblr and Azul has a blog dedicated to Humanfucker fics with a decent follower count. He himself has written no less than 900,000 words among his various fics that are solely Humanfucker content. He writes some of the filthiest smut with a straight face despite being a blushing virgin who gets squirmy at the prospect actually kissing someone. He prays the Human never finds his Trottr account or he will hide in an Octopus pot and never leave it again.

Riddle is into more of the fluffy Humanfucker fics as Unicorns always had a very close bond with Humans before the extinction. He has long since fantasized about having his own Human to be his King of Hearts that he can marry and domestically snuggle. Riddle has been interested in Humans since he was a little colt hearing stories of the Queen of Hearts and her Human.

Floyd and Jade are big into reading the Humanfucker content Azul and others write, but neither are interested in writing for themselves. Floyd because he just wants to enjoy a fic and not work on it, Jade because he likes the idea of having a Human of his own and finds the near desperate content Azul rolls out to be delicious.

Idia has been a die-hard Humanfucker for years because he grew up with the granddaddy protector of all Humans- Papa Hades. Idia has several fleshlights of Human asses and vaginas and even a few cocks he uses frequently. There is a reason he was alright with being the Human's guard despite his anxiety and he religiously watches the many cameras he has placed around Ramshackle (a few hidden ones in the Human's room too).

Lilia is new to Trottr- introduced by Idia himself during their gaming sessions- but quickly found the Humanfucker side of Trottr and never left it. He thinks it's funny how much these authors get wrong about Humans, but some content certainly gets him going and purring loudly. He is particularly a fan of Azul's Humanfucker content.

Leona is a closeted Humanfucker and refuses to admit to it, especially because he is a Nemean Lion. He loves the idea of a soft little Human he can just go down on for hours and the idea of those Human hands pulling his mane make his eyes roll back in bliss. He loves the Humanfucker content but never leaves Anon.

The Humanfuckers of Twisted Wonderland really popped off when it was revealed a Human now lived at Night Raven College. Fanart, fics, and even some pornos have already been made using the Human's likeness because now all the Humanfuckers actually have a Human to obsess over instead of wistful wishing over an extinct species. The thirst is real and even a few of the representatives are closeted Humanfuckers. Honestly, the #Human #Humanfucker tags on Trottr have never been so well-fed before.

Malleus is an unofficial Humanfucker because he isn't interested in Humans as a whole, just His Human Hoard member.

If nudes of the Human were to ever circulate, the Humanfuckers would be rabid over them and literally eat the pictures because of how desperate they are. There is a reason many of the Poachers are not looking to kill the Human, but to kidnap them. Either for their own Humanfucking desires or to satiate the desires of other Humanfuckers.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Tale of the Cursed Raven -- Author’s Notes & Afterthoughts

The full series:

Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

Miss Raven sketch is by shimmeryspark!

Well, it’s been quite the journey but we’ve finally made it to the end of ✨ Raven’s origin saga ✨. It was such a wild experience to write it all and hear your feedback for each installment. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it... and I hope that it sheds more light on why Raven is the way she is.

Now that the series is done, I’m feeling really nostalgic about it (maybe it’s Mis Raven’s enchanted inks working their magic on me)💦 so I wanted to relive the memories a little, and share some of the feelings, insights, and thoughts I had before, during, and after writing the saga.

If you’re interested in reading that, it’ll all be below the cut for your convenience.

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted glory.” — Edel, Princess Tutu (2002)

The Origins

I’ve always loved stories—more specifically, fairy tales. When I was little, they’d always be on my mind. Actually, they still are to this very day. If I wasn’t reading them, I’d be watching them or thinking about them, making theories and spinning stories of my own.

I loved the fantastical elements, the whimsy of magic and talking animals, the witches and the monsters, the royals and the warriors that protected them... I loved it all. That childhood love of fairy tales followed me into adolescence and adulthood. That’s really where this all began.

Of course, I gravitated towards media that prominently featured elements of, or borrowed from, fairy tales. This would lead me to the rabbit hole that is Twisted Wonderland 😷 (you all knew this was coming). Due to the blank slate nature of the game’s protagonist, Yuu, TWST was ripe for an OC community to crop up.

I saw a lot of unique characters in the fandom, so I wanted to create a character too. However, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to develop a “Yuu” that I was satisfied with. At times, I even felt uncomfortable because I felt I was either putting too much of myself into “Yuu”, or not enough. It was then that I realized I would have much more fun making a character based on a preexisting story. A theme, a concept—they’d all be pre-set for me, and I could let my imagination run wild from those.

I didn’t want to adapt a character from a Disney movie (say, the Mad Hatter or King Triton). While I had seen many cool interpretations made by other people, I didn’t want to limit myself to personalities and character traits that were already determined by the movies or stories for me. I started looking into fairy tales themselves, looking for a character or a concept vague enough for me to base my OC on—and I found it in the wording of a riddle from Alice in Wonderland.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

It captured the spirit of whimsy I wanted to evoke in the OC. Ah, but there's also an underlying sadness and dread to her character. It's mostly Alice in Wonderland with a whisper of Edgar Allen Poe.

And thus, Raven was born.

Tsunderes — but why???

At first glance, you might look at Raven and label her personality as “tsundere”. It’s a popular trope in Japanese media where a character that is initially cold and harsh shows or develops a warm, friendlier side over time. One problem that I’ve always had with the tsundere archetype is that the media that employ it rarely, if ever, explain the reasoning for why a character is a tsundere. More often than not, tsunderes are used to comedic effect nowadays, with the tsundere characters acting violent towards their supposed love interests—and that’s something that has never really sat well with me. I don’t think that’s necessarily good writing, but I won’t fault the people who do enjoy that kind of thing. I personally prefer it when we get to know the characters and the reasoning behind their personalities and decisions more. Character-driven storytelling is my jam.

Familiar of Zero’s Louise lacks the magical power to back up her noble lineage, and she has an inferiority complex as a result of that. Toradora’s Taiga has a complex family situation which has left her distrustful of others. When writing Raven, I didn’t want her to fall into the trap of “no explanation” tsundere. I wanted to outline a clear reason for why her personality is “hot and cold”, like Louise and Taiga. Even more than that, I wanted Raven’s reason to line up with the concepts of “freedom” and “expression” that tie with her bird and storytelling motifs.

And so, her story started taking shape in my head. (If you want to read more specifics on my thought process, I’d check out this post. I also talk more about the concepts behind her there.)

Her Magic

I wanted to tie in her personality and philosophy into her unique magic too. After all, it's a spell that defines who she is as an individual. In the beginning, Raven was excited about the prospect of writing, as it would help her comes to understand others--however, she struggles to come to grips with their emotions and keeps holding herself at a distance. Only when she empathizes with her characters and with the people around her does her unique magic come into fruition. With it, she can see into others' hearts and rewrite their feelings--that is, if her willpower and coaxing can convince them to.

I didn't want Raven to be a particularly gifted magic user; she's someone that had to work hard to come into her own. I think of her humanoid form as something still awkward and developing, which sometimes interferes with her spellcasting. What really makes Raven shine is her determination, and the strong imagination that pairs with it. All she truly lacks is the ambition and the confidence, things that I hoped would be honed at Night Raven College.

The Characters for the Series

Initially, I wanted to feature a much larger cast of characters. At some point, I was ambitious enough to think I could somehow include every NRC student in the plot... but thank goodness I realized that just wasn’t feasible. I saw the narrative mess that happened whenever a creative piece tried to get too many characters involved. It just made it hard to keep track of and care about anyone on an individual level. Sometimes, it also distracted from the central themes and conflict. Now, that’s not to say that Raven has never canonically engaged with other characters (because she definitely has)! It’s just that those interactions aren’t as important to this story, so I left them out of it.

In hindsight, I’m so glad that I kept the core cast (up to a certain point) small. That way, I could dedicate more of my time writing each of their individual thoughts and emotions. Raven remains the main character throughout, while Rook, Crowley, Jade, and, to some extent, Azul, Floyd, and Octa A, are secondary characters. Idia, Vil, Epel, the Fates, etc., are very much tertiary characters that showed up a few times total 😂 but they all played their parts and still contributed the overall story.

A character that was introduced in part 6 was the timid but well-meaning Octavinelle A-kun (whose name is Kon, like konbu, or Japense kelp). He was actually included as a gag character because I couldn’t think of someone from the main cast for the role he ended up filling. I unintentionally got attached to Kon and decided to bring him back later in the story, because I guess I like the irony of a mob character that lacks eyes having more screen time than two Dorm Leaders (Vil and Idia). I think the inclusion of Kon also really helped the themes of the story, because, in a meta way, he’s like Raven. He’s a “background character” who ended up having time in the spotlight (and even earned himself a small but dedicated fan following), which proves that it’s possible for Raven, who also sees herself as a “background character”, to ascend and become a “main character”.

Speaking of semi-original characters, I also had fun doing my interpretation of the Fates in part 10. I doubt that’s what they’re like in canon and watch TWST prove me wrong, but it was super fun to write regardless of that. I think my favorite thing about them was how they bicker when they’re out of the public eye, but it was also interesting to come up with their idol poses and phrases.

The cast noticeably expands around part 15, and that was a very purposeful move on my end. Raven has had her revelation then, as well as a stronger understanding of how her unique magic works. Art that point, the story shifts from Raven being on the outside looking in to the characters witnessing her tale unfold. It's to indicate that Raven has finally properly begun integrating herself with the stories that she has always isolated herself from. Characters that have previously had smaller roles before (Vil, Idia, Azul) return for a reprise and to add their own context to what's happening now, and the characters never previously mentioned (Lilia, Riddle, Kalim, Leona) give their perspectives as people who had no direct involvement. I wanted to show the shades of familiarity that they have with what Raven's been up to on her lonesome, and how these different kinds of relationships and points of view are all important when looking at a story.

I was very excited to introduce the Enchantress (Estella) as an onlooker that has a tenacious history with Lilia; she's an original character I've been working on and hiding in the shadows until her first appearance late in this saga. Estella is a very complex person, whom I would describe as a mix of the Enchantress (Beauty and the Beast), Giselle (in both Enchanted and Disenchanted), Isabela (Encanto), Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mother Gothel (Tangled) and Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2). She gives... "tough love", but often acts in morally self-righteous and self-important ways, believing that it is for the "own good" of the people she becomes entangled with. Sadly, I was not able to go into her own background and motives, but someday I'd really like to!

The Plot of the Series

There’s a lot that you don’t see that goes into writing. I went through several iterations of Tale of the Cursed Raven, especially with the rising action and climax. You should see my writing drafts--there’s no rhyme or reason to them! You might see some bullet points to show a sequence of events, but the rest of the document is just random lines or ideas I think would “sound cool” that I just scribbled down while on the bus or something.

When I write a story, I usually know how I want things to begin and how I want them to end, and I have trouble filling in everything that’s in between. I usually took large chunks of time between the release of each installment to review information from the previous part and make sure the continuity carried over to the part I was currently writing.

It was also common for me to write, rewrite, and rewrite the parts again several times over before I actually put it to the public. Sometimes I would almost be done with an installment, and I’d delete it all and start over because I thought of something much better. I’d be irritated with myself in the moment for wasting all that time and hard work, but I think it ended up working out.

sadibasudbad Okay, I want to talk about some of the plot points that I scrapped, because some of them were actually interesting... They just took the story nowhere or caused issues with other things I had planned, so I had to drop them 😅

After Jade’s betrayal is revealed in part 3, I was going to have Raven become Azul’s business rival. Not in the restaurant sense, but more like she would offer similar “wish fulfillment” services as Azul, mostly because she needs something to do to keep herself positive. Her services were going to be called “Fairy Godmothering” and involved sending wishes on slips of paper in little black boxes she placed all over campus. However, she’d probably need a lot of help or strong magic to make that happen, neither of which really applies to her. I guess the tradeoff would have been that Azul offers more but asks for a price, whereas Raven offers less but works for free. She’d write stories as kind of a “road map” or “plan” for how she would personally fulfill her a wish, as opposed to Azul’s contracts, and which required a mutual agreement to the terms. I also didn’t know where to take the story after this point was introduced, so it had to go.

Part 8 was originally going to open with Raven and Riddle having a tea party and catching up. Floyd was going to emerge from some rose bushes with Cater and Trey chasing after him 😂 and Floyd was going to kidnap Raven from there for the boat scene with Jade. Like I mentioned before, I decided to cut this out to keep the number of characters the story had relatively short. (Plus, I guess Floyd would have had to run a shorter distance to the lake if Raven was already in the forest area than if she were all the way in Heartslabyul?)

There was a large hiatus between part 10 and part 11, because a lot of rewrites had to happen for the latter half of the series. Part 11 in particular went through several different versions—one of which would involve Prince Rielle visiting NRC for a magift game and knocking Raven out cold with the frisbee. Because Raven didn’t remember the face of the “prince” that saved her from drowning when she was a bird, I was going to have her mistake Rielle as that “prince” (similar to how Eric mistook Ursula/Vanessa for Ariel). Djsbsjsbshs But I already took a huge chance by writing my interpretation of the Fates, so I didn’t want to also do my interpretation of Rielle in case TWST gives us more details about him later. Rielle is based on a Disney princess, so I thought it was more likely that he got more details revealed about him over of the Fates, and I didn’t want to make my series too reliant on headcanons or unconfirmed information about a character we haven’t even seen yet.

Finally (and this is the biggest change of all), parts 10 through 20 were originally going to be heavily focused on action and adventure. Raven was going leave NRC in search of the Enchantress (who originally cursed the Storyteller several years go) and ask her to lift the curse, and the Enchantress was going to send her on a series of heroic quests to prove that she is “worthy”. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought the scale was too grand 💦 At the end of the day, Raven is just a bird trying to be a normal human girl... and I wanted her development to be more of a traditional coming of age story instead of a literal hero’s journey where she confronts dragons and saves villages. Something more down-to-earth makes her more relatable, so I went with that route instead of the action-adventure one.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the saga happens alongside the events of the main story (as some main story events, such as Overblots, are referenced). The last 5ish parts happen around the transition from the Ignihyde arc to the Diasomnia arc, sooo... :)) You can think what you like about whether Raven’s happy ending is reality or a dream conjured up by Malleus~

I argued with myself a lot while writing the series, especially about the ending. I had a lot of my friends (and readers, too) telling me “you’d better not kill Raven” and “Raven and Jade should kiss and make up/date each other at the end” (some of which came true, some of which didn’t). I was so conflicted at the time because while I never intended to kill Raven, it was clear that my audience was expecting a perfect “happily ever after”... and I didn’t know if such a conclusion would fit the overall tone of the series. I think what I ended up doing was satisfactory, though. It’s happy, but not overly so, and it keeps the door open for future shenanigans in a light-hearted and hopeful way.

Raven’s Growth and Development

Raven has come so far.

The saga here is written kind of like “oh, this is her main story”, but it’s meant to be supplemented by “vignettes” and “event stories” (ie all the side content of Raven which fleshes out her relationships with other characters). The idea is that all her experiences at NRC helped her to develop her own sense of self, and granted her the confidence to fly in the face of her own fate, which she was once so hopeless about. When I look back on the last few years, I’m amazed at how much of it there is, whether produced by myself, by friends, or by fans. It’s really humbling that I get to share this journey with you all.

Raven used to be scared and shy, a timid bird with little to no understanding of the world, or of the creatures in it. Then she picked up a quill, ink, and paper—and a whole new world opened up to her. Her story is one of how freedom of self expression and creative works can connect us not only with others, but with ourselves. Because of that, Raven was able to grow and become a much more mature person (with the support of her friends and family, of course)!

Just because the saga is over doesn’t mean Raven is suddenly perfect, though. She still very much struggles to be emotionally expressive and honest with her feelings of affection (since she has gone so long burying those), so she’s still got a long way to go in that regard 💦 She also has some lingering self-esteem issues that she’s got to work on. Raven’s always changing...! Always willing to learn! Jade and Rook, please help her—

When people read Tale of the Cursed Raven, I don’t want them to “just see it as a love story” or “TWST OC x TWST Boy” fanfiction 💦 because the focus isn’t just on romance, but on Raven discovering herself, and her voice, in a world that once confused and scared her. It’s not just a story about finding love, it’s also about a girl growing up, gaining confidence, finding new family and friends to support her... It’s a lot of things, and I feel that it’s doing the saga a disservice by calling it just a love story.

I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but while Raven is not meant to be a self-insert character, I feel that her struggles are very relatable and I hope that you, too, can see some part of yourself in her and her journey. A lot of the writing process involved me analyzing and coming to terms with difficult feelings, particularly ones of self-loathing, self-acceptance, coming to terms with emotions, and trying to find one’s place in a world that can be confusing and scary to navigate. I feel that writing Raven’s tale was able to help me through those tough times in my life. For that reason, this saga will always hold a lot of sentimental value to me.

So... What’s next?

There were originally plans for me to make a follow up/spin-off series where Octa A/Kon was the main character. The theme of that series was “even the unnoticed and ordinary can be noticed and extraordinary!” It was going to focus on Kon and his mob student friends (one from each dormitory), along with their struggles of being “noticed” (as they are often just one face in a sea of mob students) and “fitting in” with their respective dorm’s ideals. I think it would have been a series that resonated a lot with introverts and people who see themselves as “less than” others or as “not fitting in” with others’ expectations. I might still do this, but it would probably be another huge project that would take months of planning and revision.

Another idea I had was to write a series of stories that are just flashbacks of Raven’s life prior to Night Raven College, whether as a bird or whether as the Storyteller’s apprentice. I also considered writing in-depth about how the Storyteller was originally cursed, and about the Enchantress responsible for it. I would like to get into her backstory and her motivations for spinning the Storyteller’s curse to begin with. (Maybe I’ll do those as blog anniversary or follower milestone specials?) Some friends of mine also jokingly suggested I write a sequel series focused on Raven and her relationship with L*ONA 🤢 dfhlbahefvqoeuq Lots of ideas, lots of possibilities!

As for Raven, she’s definitely not going away just because her origin saga is done. She’s still the beloved poster child of this blog, so of course I want to continue writing about her! It’s just that she’ll be a little freer to speak her mind now that her curse has been lifted. After all, "the end" is just "the beginning" of another story!

I kind of feel like a proud parent, seeing my bird daughter growing up, making friends, finding love, and developing her own sense of agency and independence 😭 I’m excited to see where this next chapter of Raven’s life takes us.

Before I sign off, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for following Miss Raven’s story until the very end. None of this would be possible without you!

[lightandfellowship]

Here's my take on a Halloween Town Vidar. He's a gargoyle with a wolf skull mask.

Design notes under the read more:

I previously mentioned in my Halloween Town Vor post that when Nomura designed Sora, Donald, and Goofy's Halloween Town designs, he took inspiration from two different creatures for each of them. Sora is inspired by vampires and imps, Goofy is Frankenstein's monster mixed with a werewolf, and Donald is a mummy and invisible man. I once again took a similar approach here, though instead of using an even mix of motifs like I did with Vor's fairy + sphinx design, I went down more of a Sora route. IMO, if you look at Sora's Halloween Town design, it mostly reads as vampire despite lots of overlap between vampire and imp design elements, with the exclusively impish details really only being his imp/pumpkin mask and maybe his clawed gloves. For Vidar, he is mostly gargoyle with the wolf motif coming primarily from his wolf skull mask, but there's some overlap of creature motifs with the claws and fangs.

Now, why did I choose to make Vidar a gargoyle? Here are my reasons:

Made of stone. References how Vidar tries to harden his heart to the harm he's potentially causing the worlds. The cracks in the stone represent his slowly crumbling will and the eventual abandonment of his plans. As well, I think him being a living statue well represents his somewhat stoic demeanor and the mythological Vidar's title as the "silent god".

Gargoyles serve as guardians of the buildings they adorn. Throughout the game Vidar was trying his best to protect people and prevent anyone else from dying, especially Baldr.

Water spout gargoyles collect rain water and divert it from the walls and rooftops of buildings to prevent damage to those buildings. Water is sometimes symbolic of darkness in the KH series (for example, the KH1 opening where Riku offers his hand to Sora and gets enveloped by the darkness the waves). So, in my mind, this function of gargoyles represents Vidar's attempts to preserve Baldr by removing the darkness from Baldr's heart.

Gargoyles are commonly found on cathedrals and churches, and I think that religious aspect of them fits Scala society and Vidar's commitment to Light fairly well.

If Vidar were to visit Christmas Town via Halloween Town, I imagine his gargoyle form would change into a sort of "guardian angel" form, but keeping some of the more demonic elements such as the horns for a more Lucifer-esque angel. Sort of like how Christmas Town Sora still keeps many of his Halloween Town elements despite donning a Santa outfit.

Reason why I chose the wolf skull mask:

Probably the most well-known event in the Norse god Vidar's mythology is his battle with the great wolf Fenrir, who he kills by ripping its jaws apart. Thus Vidar wears the top jaw of a wolf skull as a mask, as a sort of "trophy" and reference to this mythology. Of course the "real" Fenrir would be much larger than a normal wolf, but the mask is just a representation.

Now, I'll explain all of my individual design choices from top to bottom:

Gargoyle Horns: There's many styles of gargoyle horns, but I decided to give him more realistic-looking animal horns to add more detail.

Gargoyle Ears: I quite like this type of gargoyle ear with the multiple rounded segments even though I couldn't find many examples of it, and I think it nicely differentiates the ears from elf/demon ears. Vaguely Rochelle Goyle from Monster High inspired, as well.

Wolf Skull Mask: Already explained, but I tried to go semi-realistic here, once again to add more detail and make it more clear what kind of animal skull this is. If this design were to actually appear in a Kingdom Hearts game, I could potentially see this mask being stylized in a more cartoony way (especially if put into the chibi mobile game style.)

Gargoyle Wings (Feathered): I originally gave Vidar the more typical style of gargoyle wing which looks like a bat wing, but I felt that style of wing in conjunction with the horns, claws, and elongated skull mask made him look too much like a dragon, which wasn't what I was going for at all. So I changed it to the other common stye of gargoyle wing, a bird-like wing. I think this also better reflects his role in the game as someone sided with Light.

Stone Skin and Hair: As mentioned, he's made of stone and covered in cracks and nicks. He's pretty much all stone (except his eyes? I guess?)

Shoulder Pads? (Don't know what else to call them): I made them more pointy and curled up at the edges for that Nightmare Before Christmas look.

Shoulder Pad Design: I turned the square design on Vidar's shoulder pads into crosses. One, to reference gravestones, but also again to reference back to cathedrals and that religious aspect of gargoyles. Also, it's a subtle detail, but I added a stitched seam to the side of Vidar's coat as well.

Bandages: Vidar's original design features bandage-like cloth underneath one of his gloves, so I took that detail and just put it all around his arm. Weathered and torn for the creepy look.

Wrist Bands: In Vidar's original design, he sports two asymmetrical gloves. Here, the bandages take the place of the more complicated glove, while these two black bands take the place of the simpler glove, which was just a black, fingerless glove comprised of a main glove and two straps above it.

Gargoyle Claws: Not much to say here. Can sort of double as wolf claws, but obviously without the fur.

Scala Emblem Chain: I changed the chain from a bead chain to a more grungy link chain for that Halloween look. Also, I wasn't able to depict this in a way that satisfied me, but I imagine the metal of the charm and chain being a little tarnished and scratched up.

Dirtied Sash and Coat Edge: It's not blood, just grime. Grime, tearing, and weathering for more creepy factor. His coat is pretty long anyway so I could see it getting dirty in the streets of Halloween Town pretty easily.

No Boots: To show off his gargoyle feet. In his original design his pants tuck into his boots, so I don't really know what the bottom of his pants are supposed to look like. I just cinched them at the bottom to maintain that puffed-out look. Is it weird that his feet only have three toes but his hand has three fingers and a thumb? Yeah. But I couldn't get four toes to look right. Just assume he's supposed to have four.

I decided to draw this Halloween Town design in black and white this time, but if I had colored it, you can imagine the color scheme of his clothes being darker and less saturated than his original design to better match Halloween Town.

Also, this was just a coincidence, but both Vor and Vidar's Halloween Town designs feature wings, claws, and fangs, and have a sort of cat (sphinx) and dog (wolf) theme. Which I think is cute and makes them feel more like a duo. :)

That's it. Thanks for reading.

[cartoon-buffoon]

HOLD THE HENRY HOTLINES BECAUSE I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING—hopefully no one thought of this before.

Now before I was under the pretense that perhaps the 2 brothers who found the Finding Frankie IP before they sold it off were perhaps Real and Monster Frankie. But may I suggest something else?

Okay so in finding Frankie there is implications there IS something so much bigger going on. Henry references higher-ups and potentially them being the ones to do him in (which is possible they DID do him in and were the ones to make his head pop). But the fact that there is people going beyond Real Frankie obviously means there is some unseen force pulling strings here and it's not just Real Frankie. I don't think it makes sense for Real and Monster Frankie to be the brothers considering ya know, they sold the IP and now there's higher-ups meaning they aren't in control and have like no control over the gameshow. So why would they be the mascots? Simple, PERHAPS THEY'RE NOT! (Also the 2 brothers being the 2 Frankie theory ignores the secret room where we find all the mascots on charge so like.... Pretty sure all the mascots are just robots with Monster Frankie specifically being just some sadistic killer animatronic)

ANYWAYS! One thing I don't see people notice or overlook is in the cinematic our character WANTED to be a contestant because they not only went through several boxes to get the VHS but also have a sticker on their VHS player like they're some big fan...

(also real quick HC: I think our character is diabetic because out of 769 boxes he did apparently eat an unknown amount yet it's at least enough to need MULTIPLE BOWLS. Like you can reuse bowls, he has probably eaten nothing but this lucky charms type cereal with marshmallows for who knows how long, I think he's diabetic and has dental issues y'all.)

Anyways: it's clear by the dedication to buy all these boxes, each costing 3.99 plus tax, and the little sticker detail that our player character is a fan. A big fan at that. I bring this up because in another secret room you can find a lease for an apartment with some peculiar text on it

What if our character is one of the original brothers and the one who sold the IP, after all we do live IN AN APARTMENT we see we are located on one of the upper floors in an apartment building during the end game cutscene after all. This could be a BATIM situation where our player character who seems to have some deep WANT to be a contestant is actually one of the people who made Finding Frankie and this is his big return to what the show became after he sold the IP. Maybe the red text and lease is after he sold the IP, he got enough money to buy an apartment for himself and the red text saying "everything changes" is him distancing himself from the IP.

Now that's all I can make with just the evidence given however I also have a small theory. Maybe a falling out happened between our character who is possibly one of the original IP owners and his brother, thus we live alone and the red text was our character leaving our brother and is excited that everything is set up and done and we can leave behind the IP only to inevitably come back for some unknown reason. What is that reason? Idk perhaps something with our brother, we don't know for sure though and that's all I got.

Anyways this is just a theory, A GA—.... Oh fuck that's taken already.... Uhh– A game TOON THEORY!

[waltnut]

Just wanted to say how grateful I am to have artists, and content creators in general, like you in the fandom❤️ I like your portrayal to every character, the four stages concept is so interesting.❤️

It's a shame solmare never thought about going beyond showing a pair of horns and wings as a "demonic" form, the designs makes them look like they're wearing a halloween costume rather than being actual high ranked demons, and now with how their personalities have wattered down, they're just men with demon names.

That means a lot to me! I’m still surprised my designs are getting as much traction as they are when I first made them 2-3 years ago. Concept art is my profession so creating new ideas is what I love to do, even playing around with things that already exist.

I got into Obey me! originally because I did like the designs at first. The RAD uniform is great, and the characters “demon” outfits are also nicely designed, in my opinion. Everything feels it “goes together”. But I noticed as time went on and new events came out, the design choices were…interesting. Some of the costumes are just??? Like the color choices, the shapes??? Even now I’ll see some stuff and I’m like WHO IS DESIGNING THIS?? Now if you like it, that’s cool, it just ain’t for me. So, I’ll make content I do like and share it with others who might like it too!

I personally love horror and dark art, and monsters (obviously), and when I want demons, I want DEMONS. I want the story to be messy, tragic, and horrifying, but some humor to lighten it up, you know? If Obey me! had any of that I would still be playing. So as of now, I just have my own fan canon and story for it for fun.

I’m currently looking forward to the new game TouchStarved and hope it might be more what my taste is.

Also, I did get some attention from the official obey me twitter when I first uploaded the monster design of Leviathan. And that was super cool! But that also means that since they’ve seen it, it will most likely not happen, because I know some things can get messy if they start creating concept based on fanart. (I believe Tekken had some issues creating some characters because they kept seeing fanart of what they wanted to make but couldn’t, because of legal reasons). But then again, they could also make their own designs but uhhh…my expectations are not high. I’ve seen other artists create their own monster versions and the creativity is incredible. Sometimes fans make better content, honestly.

Thanks for sticking around and liking my stuff! I’ll keep making it if you guys keep liking it. 🙂‍↕️

[territorial-tarot-tahr]

C.o.D smut that won the poll: Freak show

Word count: 10.1k

CW: Some descriptions of gore/violence but in more vague notions. Some psychological distress. There's a small bit of knotting in here but not in much detail. There's sexual content in this.

Summary: That one monster AU that everyone kinda knows and reader is a strigoi because I said so. Another one of y'all getting freaky in the shower except this time it's with a Scottish werewolf.

AFAB reader but no gendered names or terms

If you found my A03 from this, no you didn’t. Shut up.

There are no spoilers for any C.o.D games

🚨Go to my main account “rorschach-retrograding-rotary” for commissions or requests🚨

🚨This was not proof read and I hate reading my work so I have no intention of proof reading it🚨

Feel free to commission me or donate

𝕙𝕥𝕥𝕡𝕤://𝕜𝕠-𝕗𝕚.𝕔𝕠𝕞/𝕤𝕒𝕪_𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤𝕖

It was quiet. The squeak of the ceiling fan above as well as the dull tune of his breathing provided the only audible ambience that you could hear at the moment. The light of the barracks was practically non-existent during the dead of night, though your senses had been dialed up to an obscene amount since your revival and as such, the room might as well have had the ceiling lights blasting on. Though you knew that the minute someone's turned on that light, you'd find yourself startled and writhing in disgust as the bulb's internal workings practically sparked and popped.

You hadn't been with Task Force 141 for long. You'd really only officially joined them a couple hours prior. Though you'd been in the military for a handful of years prior. In all honesty you'd been one of the antagonists of 141. Childish taunts that you should've outgrown and that you thought you might've, though when you'd initially run into the Task Force, you'd found you hadn't. Looking down your nose at the idea of having "a circus instead of soldiers". You'd left snide comments on a few notes in places you knew they'd be found. Made sure to talk loud enough for any passing member of the squad to hear exactly what kind of breed of freak you thought they were.

And those were the same people you had found yourself standing before as you were reassigned to the squad. All their gazes wandering over you as though scrutinizing every inch of your dull flesh. Each twitch of their eyes might've been a glare cast your way, and each whisper they spoke to one another could've been a remark about you. Retribution for all your time spent mocking them.

You didn't suspect they actually did indulge in spending their free time mocking you in secret, that'd be giving yourself too much credit. Instead, you guessed in reality they couldn't have cared less about "revenge". You figured they believed you being on the same squad was good enough karmic justice. Though you were sure you could find someone glaring at you if you tried hard enough.

It'd felt condescending enough to have Price put his hand on your shoulder when he'd shown you to your new sleeping quarters. A loose gesture with his other hand before he pointed at which bunk he suspected was empty as he suggested you get settled. His skin had been rough, as though his entire had was calloused from years of work. Though you know a quick glance would reveal the small repeating pattern that the tough scales on his flesh as the culprit.

He was warm. Earnestly and physically. Though for the latter, you suspected you'd have the same sentiment about anyone now considering your body no longer made its own heat. Couldn't even be bothered to pump its own blood. You were supposed to be making 2 million new blood cells every second according to a factoid you'd learned in a health class years back, though now you'd be relying on a steady supply from the base. And they had made it clear that this would serve as their collar for you.

"Behave or we starve you. And if you try to quell that gnawing hunger in your belly with a wild animal or another soldier, we will put you down like the monster you are." Or something like that.

In that moment when the medics had first shoved the small bag into your hands, a lot of repulsion twisting their faces into sneers, you'd found a dull shock wash over you. These were the same people you might've found yourself indulging in mockery with. Though they now regarded you with the same attempt at subtle disgust that you'd shared before.

It might've seemed a bigger deal to you later, but at the time you'd been in what you'd consider shock. Having clawed your way out of a coffin and six feet of dirt after sustaining a bullet wound to the head, stumbling your way back to your barracks out of habit and sitting on your bed with dried blood and mud coating your skin, you didn't think anything would've gotten much of a reaction from you at that point.

With no family to send your body to, they'd buried you in the base's cemetery. Just your luck that someone's stray had decided to come meandering along the base that same night. Just your luck that the cat had decided to slink its way into the cemetery and just your luck that the cat had decided to waltz over your grave, dooming you to return as a strigoi.

You'd tossed your duffle bag onto the cot, much to the protest of the springs which squealed like an iron pig in protest. Price had lingered a moment longer, asking again if you needed anything, and again you had shook your head. He'd nodded and walked out, and your eyes had traveled over the expanse of where his second wing should've been, drawing up images in you mind about what gruesome scar must've laid beneath his garments. A twisted show of scar tissue and scales that would never heal. You'd brushed your palm through your hair again as you imagined what kind of eyesore-

And then you found yourself feeling sick. Mouth pulled into a tight line as your hand brushed against your own mark, the bullet wound that would never heal. Your mouth tasted like dirt and you were sure you could smell the cedar of your coffin again. Your nails were bleeding, worn down to nothing and tearing through your skin as you dug frantically at the lid of your coffin. You'd sat there, still as a statue for practically a half hour till another member of the force had walked in and bumped into one of the beds by accident, getting your attention.

Your gaze had quickly snapped to him. The Scotts-man of your group, and who you and many others had degradingly called "the mutt" whenever you were tossing insults around. Despite only seeing him in passing for mere glimpses at a time, you'd always describing him as "a slobbering dog of a human". "A twitching and snarling hound that should've been put down already." He'd been one of the first members of the squad that you heard people talk badly about, with most of the stories about him either painting him like a stupid Chihuahua or a rabid beast that was a threat to anyone on any given day. And despite those polar opposites, you'd begun spreading those stories as well despite never even meeting the guy. You grimaced now as those memories ran like a checklist in your mind.

You locked eyes with the man and in all honesty, he didn't seem like the flea-ridden mutt you'd described and heard him be described as. His posture was a slight slouch and you were almost certain you could smell mud on him, but besides that, you couldn't find anything inherently mutt-like about him.

Well, maybe the shaggy quality his hair had to it. Clumped together in patches but also eager to fall aside string by string in others. Maybe the way he seemed to sporadically tense as he stared at you as though expecting some kind of attack because of the eye contact. Maybe the way he seemed to keep taking small huffs of the air as if trying to catch your scent and catalogue it. You would've expected you smelled like a rotting corpse. A shambling zombie or necrotic flesh and decomposing muscle, but he almost seemed to not care or be unsurprised by your scent as he didn't react.

Maybe you smelled like nothing at all and that was where the small twitch of his brow as he tensed his jaw came from. "Here's someone I can't prepare for if they're coming into a room. I can't wave my hand to hush my friends if we're all shit talking them and they're about to waltz in. I won't be able to pick up their footsteps since for some reason they're quiet as a mouse, and now I can't get a scent to get forewarning on their arrival at any given time. Great, just great."

Or at least that was what you assumed his inner dialogue was. You couldn't be sure. For all you knew, he could've been thinking about the time he bit a kid and was pondering about if he was more pitbull or terrier like because of it.

He was staring back at you too, not particularly wide-eyed but with a face that seemed nonplussed but not disinterested about your appearance in thee barracks. You wouldn't say he was easy on the eyes but it certainly hasn't been a chore to hold his eye contact. He shot you a quick wave, a short moment of his time before rummaging around in his small bedside drawer, fishing something out and then leaving without another word. You weren't even worth a proper hello or goodbye to your new squad. Though you supposed that was fair, you hadn't exactly been subtle with your shit-talking and you didn't imagine anyone on that squad had been jazzed to get the news that a person who spent most of their time spewing mild hate speech would be happy to know they'd be expected to watch that person's back and work with them more. Especially not the member that you had claimed had fleas. While he hadn't been a particularly comforting presence, it had made the taste of dirt leave your mouth, and had given time for you to collect your thoughts.

As you lay in your bed at the moment, you again tasted the dirt in your mouth and felt the ache of your fingers, whittled down to raw muscle and only from a job halfway done. You grunted to yourself before rolling over in your cot, sending the now familiar screech of the springs into a performance which soon found an encore when you rolled back over anyways.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

You acclaimed your new found insomnia to your status as a Strigoi. A seemingly bottomless well of energy and a brain that refused to quiet down. The aforementioned darkness of the room still seemed as though illuminated by an overhead fixture. Though still in shades of blues despite the clarity. The acute awareness that your ears provided also seemed to be a large factor in preventing you from catching a wink of sleep or even relaxing. The shrill chirp of crickets now seemed like the climax of a performance from a string band. The hushed breaths of your companions, dampened by pillows and cloth now sounded as a cacophony of crashing waves that assaulted your senses. The small squeaks of springs from your squadmates rolling over or re-situtating now screeched like a bird.

Rather than focusing on the auditory input you were being overwhelmed with, and since visual wasn't much fun, you began trying to focus on the scents that you were practically swimming in thanks to the strange nature of your barrack's companions.

Sulfur, the rancid smell of rotting eggs that made you scrunch your nose. The soft tone of his breathing made his inhales barely audible, but his exhales still filled your ears as if he'd revved a motorcycle. If not for that, you might've thought him dead, and you supposed there was some truth to that. He wasn't exactly alive either. And it seemed selfish to try and compare yourself to him or say you were in the same boat. But you'd never had a conversation with him or even really knew what he was like, so that was all the kinship you could claim to your new "task force friend". He was a lingering echo of what he must've once been. And while he was away on a mission at the moment, you found it as a true testament to his sheer oddity that the scent was just as pungent as if he had been there.

Feathers. A mildly earthy scent that was almost overwhelmed by the prior one, but still held it's ground and filled your senses. His breathing was far more audible, though he wasn't snoring. Less shrill than a whistle but louder than a pan flute. You'd seen him preening the feathers of his wings before you'd been on the Task Force. Varying sizes and of different speckled patterns that drew your mind the Ship of Theseus. How many times had he plucked broken or bent feathers from his back and watched them pile into a small mountain of tawny keratin at his feet? Did it hurt? Simply being alive meant having to hurt yourself in order to keep yourself in working condition?

Smoke. A deep rumble accompanied it and despite the fact that you knew he was farther away, the smell of charcoal still practically burned your nostrils. The warmth from his hands still seemed to burn on your cold skin and you wished you might feel that kind of scorching heat grace your frozen body again. A walking furnace of man with a body covered in scars. You'd heard people refer to scars as paintings of someone's past before, and it left you to wonder how he could still find it in his heart to give his sympathies and patience to what used to be a smart-mouthed brat, turned crying and skittish monster who he got stuck with. All those years of suffering, and you still felt that the greatest comfort you could ever experience might be a simple hug as you let his warmth warm your weary bones.

A lingering smell of wet fur was the now overwhelming scent that washed over you, all encompassing now that you'd properly noticed it. Wet dog. Moist canine. Damp wolf.

What?

Ew.

Nothing dissimilar to Simon, you supposed. Though Simon had a natural smell that tended to linger. This just seemed overwhelming even considering the encounters with the musk you'd had before.

A childhood friend with a dog, much too eager to show off it's fresh smelling coat after a bath.

With that, you grew sickened and simply held your nose shut, opening your mouth a few moments later before finding that the burn of carbon dioxide in your lungs hadn't appeared. What? Were you breathing just because you wanted to instead of necessity now? Filling your shriveling lungs with oxygen that they didn't need? Another mark of your loss of humanity to sit as some inhuman marking upon your very soul and being?

You shook those thoughts from your mind and attempted to focus on the coarse fabric of your blanket. Though what seemed to stick out to you more, was the sensation of how cold you were despite it. A shiver in your bones and a chill on your flesh no matter how tightly you wrapped the cloth around yourself and a realization that didn't seem eager to go away now that you'd noticed it.

A frostbitten ache in your limbs that refused cure or amputation. A clawing and fighting chill that ate and slashed at your flesh till you felt it's influence in your entire body. Frozen flesh that refused to thaw. You wondered if Price had registered the chill in your flesh when her touched you, feeling as though he was patting a cadaver on the shoulder instead of his new ward. How would this freshly walking corpse get along with his array of other oddities?

You grunted and realized the futility of trying to ignore the ache now that it was at the forefront of your mind. It wasn't as though you could drag yourself to your Captain's quarters, knock on the door and give a sheepish "can I sleep with you tonight?" Before being welcomed in with open arms and a warm body. Not happening. Dishonorable discharge wasn't completely off the table even if you insisted that you hadn't decided to do the "horizontal tango" with your Captain who would presumably be blacklisted.

So what could you do instead?

A warm place or thing that wouldn't disturb others? Locker room or shower. In the shower you at least had the excess steam as well to seep into your weary bones and eat away at some of the fatigue as well. It didn't sound like a half-bad idea, and you didn't suspect you'd find much reprimand for it if you managed to keep quiet enough to avoid disrupting the other's rest.

You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the cot without a second thought. At the very least, even if the plans didn't work, you'd have something to do to occupy yourself till the sun decided to rear it's shiny mug over the cusp of the horizon.

It was much harder for external weather to actually make you feel something now, and you found that fact highlighted as you walked into the embrace of the night, hearing the crunch of frost covered leaves and blades of grass beneath your feet but not feeling the slightest chill on your skin. You had the chill of a corpse, and the chill of the weather couldn't find enough strength to overcome or change your already frigid body. You hadn't noticed it during the days as most of your time was spent walking around in a shell-shocked stupor as they pointed you here and there, signing this and that, but you suspected you had most likely been feeling this aching chill for the entire day and just simply hasn't noticed or hadn't had time to notice. And now that you had spent your couple of minutes with only your thoughts, you found that you were already too cold to freeze further. Great

If the same principle applied during the summer, you didn't think trips to the beach would be worth having anymore.

What would be the point of sitting outside on a warm day and having a picnic or something, either? What about being bundled up on the couch after a chilly walk to the store left you with a chilled face that your partner would warm up with chaste kisses and an hour wrapped up in a blanket together?

Don't be so dramatic and stole moping, you don't even know that yet. The burning warmth that had enveloped the flesh on your shoulder practically crackled as you remembered your Captain's hand.

Alright, so you were "cold-blooded" in terms of your lifestyle then. So not all hope was lost.

Your shoes, sloppily tossed in with lases undone, crunches again against the frosted grass as you stalked forward. You reached forward to grasp the handle and push in the door as you slinked into the building. You were surprised that it was left unlocked, but you certainly weren't disappointed.

You continued on your search, trekking through the base to make your way to the showers and find whoever seemed to be in such distress. The base was practically a maze of concrete walls and smooth hallway floors, and if your time before, you had often found yourself as the victim of a bad sense of direction. Wandering and trudging down the halls with no clear sense of direction or understanding where it was that you were.

Now though, despite the increase in your senses, you still found yourself too confused by the overwhelming twists and turns that if asked to retrace your steps, it'd still take you longer than the average person to get to it. But less time than your prior year. You might actually get to the showers before the sun rose. Good job.

A disgruntled growl left your throat before you registered the sound and you found your brows scrunching together as you continued your walk. Ew. Don't do that again.

With one final turn you were met with the off-white tiles of the locker room floor, and your reflection after you took a few more steps in. The long line of mirrors above the sink to your left sat tantalizing as you gave yourself a quick once over. Your hair wasn't matted with blood-moistened dirt and speckled with wood chips, both from your feverish clawing. Your face was gaunt, discoloured in some areas from bruises that would never clear as well as whatever ugly wounds you'd managed to open on your liberation for the grave. Your wounds were sewed up with medical thread but you were well aware the flesh would never scab and heal.

You watched your face contort as you gritted your teeth and glared at the visage staring back at you in the pristine mirror. Your exhale hit the mirror and you watched the surface neglect to fog. Your corpse breath instead disappearing without a trace as you inhaled and pushed your hair from your face before spinning a 180° and making your way to the flimsy curtains of the showers. Your shirt slipped off first, tossed to the side in a crumpled pile before being followed by your pajama pants and other miscellaneous garments before you pulled the flimsy, opaque plastic of the curtain back as you stepped in. Your nails traced the notch on the turning cog that indicated "heat" before abruptly yanking it on.

For a moment or two you felt nothing more than the brisk chill you had felt before and you wondered if you'd been wrong and your second of heat with Price had been a fluke or some lady spasm of some muscles before they properly bit the dust. A loud cry of "Fuck!" Left your mouth as your buried your hands in your hair and gripped it roughly, your eyes glued to the floor and the trickle of water down your leg.

Though the water then seemed to warm up and you stood in awkward embarrassment, though you couldn't be sure why. It wasn't as though anyone had seen what you could only describe as an outburst. Though you moved your hands to your sides after a shallow cough as you felt the warmth begin to gradually work it's way through your flesh with the promise of further warmth to come as the nozzle began spitting a consistent stream onto your face.

Enveloping. All encompassing. A blanket of warmth that was wrapped tightly around you as you stood. Your spine straightened as you stood to your full height and placed your palms to the tiles and sighed in relief as the ache finally began to cease its assault on your flesh. You wished that you might spy dirt or muck leaving your visage, but instead you saw no grime leaving your form. There was nothing to be washed away and fixed. You felt keen to vomit but your stomach hadn't been filled with anything and as such you couldn't even find it in your body to cough up bile. With a groan, you moved your hands to run through your hair again, attempting to work out nonexistent knots and blocks of dirt, digging feverishly at your warming flesh as you attempted to rid yourself of the muck that seemed to hang on your skin.

You needed to be clean. You wanted desperately to be clean. You needed it. And yet your fingers came away with no grime, no flaws or blemished skin pieces to be fixed by medics or hopeful medics. Your nails dragged harder now. Moving from your hair and scalp to your neck as you felt your throat flutter with your gradually fluttering breaths. Your collar bone was next as your fingers worked harder, dragging your nails though your dead flesh neglected to form bright red streaks across your skin.

Stupid fucking cat. You could've been resting in a grave. You could've had whatever rest you were owed as you rotted and let the maggots and bugs eat away at your coffin till they had free reign of your corpse to consume.

But no. Instead you'd been dragged from whatever peace you'd found. Ripped from the ground in a frantic spit of earth and blood, brought to be puppeteered till your duty was done.

But your job would not be finished soon. The design of whatever cruel fate that demanded you work till your body collapsed as bullets nestled into your skin, stitching threads working through your ruined flesh in a desperate attempt to hold yourself together, wishing and fighting to continue your walks in rotting legs. A member of a traveling circus that for some reason refused to put down their suffering animals.

Your eyes watered, your hands shaking as you gradually slowed your assault on your body as you watched the small strips of flesh begin to fall away in the swirling water of the drain. These wouldn't heal. And if your "tantrum" didn't stop, you would find yourself dragged into some kind of straight jacket or given some stupid mittens in order to ensure you didn't damage yourself. Their "merchandise", their weapon. Their property now in all honesty. And they wouldn't allow you to become damaged goods. If you weren't their weapon, you wouldn't find any other place to call home because of your newly unnatural nature.

This was your reality and you needed to get used to living in it. With a trembling inhale, you seemed to regain your composure even if only externally. The water continued licking its warm tongue across your body like a feverish cat as you allowed it to continue it's work. Relaxation. If you couldn't get it any other way, you didn't care.

With your mind now slowing less from the speedy sprint they'd managed to work themselves into, you began to acknowledge the push of your senses as your awareness began to seep back into the environment. The huff of the ac and ventilation farther in the locker room, the sound of water dripping down the drain and churning in the pipes below.

Using your hand to shield your face from the water, you turned to the side and placed your back against the condensation slicked tiles as you sat down on the floor. When had it been cleaned later? Who knows, but you didn't think you could find it in your heart to care. While you weren't sure if it was actual sleep or not, a rush of fatigue seemed to finally settle over you, encouraging you to lay your head on your crossed arms and sit till someone comes along. The shower was snug. It was warm and the sounds you could hear all seemed to fit together in a way that allowed you to slip the back of your mind as unimportant in the moment.

Sitting with your arms on your bent knees and your face bruised in their warming flesh, you couldn't be sure how long you'd stayed there. But every peaceful second was practically a god-sent as you allowed yourself to fall away from the real world and all it's incessant nagging for attention. You were almost certain you'd get used to it eventually, learn to tune out all the extra noise. But for now this was what you wanted. This floating away into an empty mind, not asleep, but not well aware of your surroundings. The sound of impact from the water on the ground wormed it's way into your mind and blanketed the other chitters and chirps as you began to focus on solely it.

~

You weren't sure how long your peace lasted, but when you opened your wet eyelids and blinked away the droplets that hung frantically off your lashes in an attempt to save themselves from the drain, you realized you weren't alone anymore.

The sound of someone walking filled your ears as it grew gradually in volume. Someone approaching. They weren't going at a particularly leisurely pace either. They were walking like they had somewhere to be, alright. You wagered that they were simply going to pass the locker and shower room, maybe move to the next hallway and settle some late night grievance with a higher up. Whatever it was, you expected to slip back into your dull state after the few seconds of interruption, but instead you heard the door to the locker room swing open, slamming into the wall. The crack and splinter of tile alongside the door screamed in your ears and you scrambled to your feet, practically slipping on the well-soaked floor.

You'd snapped the handle for the water as the dying echoes of the door faded, quickly jamming it into the position that choked the water from its pipes and made the coiled snake of metal fall quiet as you waited with baited breath to see what the newly arrived individual might want.

Had some hearing been made to put you down? That's why the brute-force creature had appeared here? Had you missed your chance to plead for your own life and defend your right to take up "3 hots and a cot" on the base? You weren't the first one misfortunate enough to end up with your undead fate, infact, base had even given you a briefing on the ways you could find yourself falling and not getting back up. An uncomfortable creeping silence and pricking along the back of your neck as you heard the thudding heartbeats of the guards who had been positioned to ensure you couldn't escape the room easily. As though you were already a threat. A silver stake through the heart was the main one that had gone to your mind. Direct sunlight could be worked around with the use of different full body garb. Decapitation and burning carried over though as deaths. But considering those were things you were used to trying to avoid, you hadn't seen it as a big change.

So what? They'd sent someone into the shower's with a silver stake to drive through your heart? There wouldn't be much to clean up considering your lack of blood, but the shower still did seem like the natural decision for a murder. Here you were, exposed and vulnerable with no real source of traction considering the puddle at your feet.

You had little intention of going down without a fight if they were, and the sound of the footsteps picking up again as solid thuds with determination didn't inspire confidence, but it did invite challenge. A snark bubbled at the back of your throat, but before you could vocalize it, you grew embarrassed of the sound and quickly quieted yourself preemptively.

You watched the blurry figure of the person through the opaque shower curtain as they paused in their movements before stilling completely and you watched with baited breath for what they would do. They had yet to actually move against you. Their interest didn't seem to be with you.

Were you being paranoid?

Gross.

Maybe?

You turn into a freak and all of a sudden you think the world revolves around you.

What?

Nothing.

With a cautious step forward, you gripped the edge of the curtain and sheepishly tugged it back a few inches to see who had entered the room. The curtain rings glided quietly against the bar and you gnawed on your lip in anticipation as you tried to keep your knees from locking.

A shaggy stripe of brown hair on what was otherwise a buzz cut, baggy sweatpants and a sweat-soaked tank top. Tanned skin coated with discolored scars rippling and heaving as he you watched him lean forward and press his forehead to the presumably cold mirror. His back which was to you, was heaving and you heard the forceful gale of each exhale that slapped against the reflective surface of the mirror.

Oh. What's the Scotts-man doing?

You furrowed your brows and thought back to the glimpses of moonlight you'd seen through the clouds. It hadn't been full from what you could remember and despite your little interaction with him, you didn't wager he was about to inadvertently show off his "Jacob Black" impression.

Don't say that again.

Sorry.

Benefit of the doubt: Maybe he just had to piss and he'd somehow managed to catch you at your most paranoid so now here you were villainizing him when his only crime was like, drinking too much water.

Dumbass.

Maybe if he hadn't-

The overwhelming smell returned. Wet fur and warm breath, a mixture of fresh-out-of-the-shower smell and sweat tied together with a bow of dog's breath. His heartbeat slammed and echoed in your ears like a set of taiko drummers who'd decided you needed a private performance. There was a sickly scent you didn't recognize interlaced with the other pungent smells. Like he'd lathered himself in perfume or cologne of some kind and now he stood red-faced in the mirror as he choked on his own smell.

The sweat on the back had soaked through his shirt and you watched the wet fabric cling to him like a second skin as he swiped his hand over his face to try and clear some of his sweat which he promptly wiped across his sweatpants. Though as the fabric shifted, you watched his face contort in anguish as if about to start crying to add more salt to the already slicked canvas of his visage. His muscles tensed again, pulling tight the cover of his skin and you wondered if he was about to spasm and vomit.

Your fingers found the curtain again and you prepared to pull it shut, though the shriek of the rings now seemed eager to speak up as it became stupidly obvious that you were in the room with him too. Your gaze had been locked onto the rings, as if glaring at them might somehow make them revoke their sound and let you continue going unnoticed. Though when you turned your gaze back to him, you found that your chances of that weren't looking all too friendly at the moment.

Honestly he looked near the point of being blackout drunk, but the alertness in his dull-y bloodshot eyes gave too much evidence to something else. His chest was heaving, and each breath was enough to spark your mind's cruel humor and summon up images of the three pigs and the Big Bad Wolf giving his assault on their homes.

You let go of the curtain and were ready to give a shallow wave out of curtsey, but were cut off by his commanding, if not a bit fatigued voice.

"Sorry, didn't realize anyone else was n 'ere." He forced a friendly smirk to his lips, but his weary eyes broke the illusion of a chipper attitude despite his best tries. You stood still as a statue, your mouth pulled into a fine line as you watched him await a response, fingers tensed against the rim of the basin, and the veins across his body pressed to a visible position as if he was flexing. Your tongue felt dry, but after another beat you seemed to remembered you hadn't spoken yet so you forced the same cautious smirk and responded.

"Are you," Vomiting? In need of assistance? About to drop dead? "alright?"

The sound of your own voice felt pathetic and you became acutely aware that really all that was helping you retain your modesty at the moment was a shower curtain. But your clothes were clothes to him that you, so your options were to either burden the clearly already ailed teammate with a favor, wait for him to leave, or waltz over to the bench and act like you weren't practically airdrying yourself on the walk over.

He wiped his mouth again in a style that brought to mind and alcoholic wiping his lips from habit. His fingertips came away wet with sweat again and you watched him swipe it now against his side, as he kept his hips angled to keep the majority of his front out of your view.

"Yeah, right as rain. 'ealthy as a 'orse." His smile was forced, a lopsided grin now as he overcompensated in spite of whatever was ailing him.

Pretend that you believed his fairly pathetic performance or push harder and try to help with whatever it was?

"What abou't yerself? Most peopl' ain't jumpin' to try and go shower right at the arse crack of dawn."

Deflecting probably. Get his mind off of whatever was bothering him in the first place by listening to your troubles instead? You wouldn't bet your life on it but it seemed like something you'd probably have done a couple times in your life. Some small part of you screamed to be embarrassed about your reasoning and cited it's stupidity.

Shut up and lie. Say something cool. Turn it back to him.

"I was cold."

Lame.

"Cold?" He repeated. His eyebrow was raised and you watched the sweat drip down the curve of his scrunched temple as he fidgeted where he stood. You seemed to forget you were expected to respond now, too enveloped in his skittish behavior now as you watched his hands begin to rub lines around the ring of his wrist. You blinked like a dumbfounded kitten before noticing his half-way expectant expression seemed to get you out of your stupor as you nodded.

"Yeah. I just- I don't think I make my own body heat anymore. So I was just-" You trailed off as you watched him twitch again, a half-hearted gesture as though twisting the handle of the shower properly ended your response.

"What about you? You said you're 'healthy as a horse', so why're you up and sweating like a sinner in church?" You sounded snarky, more so than you'd meant to. And in all honesty you supposed it was as if you'd forgotten who you were for a moment. You were no longer the person who spread gossip, rumors or nasty remarks about the 141. You didn't have any right to claim the squad as being freaks while ignoring the oversized canines in your mouth. And yet here you were, starting up an accusatory attempt at embarrassing him, choking information he wasn't keen on giving, even though you were standing stark naked behind a shower curtain and starting to tremble like a leaf.

Despite the obviously flushed nature of his face, you could've sworn he blanched at your question, as though he already expected you'd have somehow forgotten. You watched his lip pull back in an uneasy sneer, allowing you to see his own set of gnarled and oversized teeth. His pink gums were overcrowded with the pale white curves of his "maw" and it sunk in for a moment, how genuinely screwed you would've been if he had bitten you when you were alive. He could've taken a chunk from your shoulder, nearly half your neck, whatever he wanted.

You'd mocked him before in rumor for doglike qualities without even having seen these, and you were sure he could hear some of the comments considering you said then in front of him the majority of the time. One flash of his teeth and you'd have snapped your mouth shut, and you were sure he knew it. And yet he'd only ever met your remarks with apathy or a sarcastic smirk. As much as you wanted to believe that it had been out of politeness and control of his temper (and you wouldn't pretend some amount hadn't been) you were now aware some of the restrictions placed on 141. You were too be detained or reprimanded if you showed violent tendencies or behavior, and you'd already been issues a warning when you'd accidentally spaced out, your gaze happening to linger on a nurse and her neck. You could only imagine what kind of reprimand he'd had been given for snarling or simply acting aggressive. And you knew in your heart-of-hearts that if he had, you'd have been the first one scampering off to your higher up to demand he be taken off his squad and put down like a mutt.

You'd grimaced at the thought at the prior actions you wished you could distance yourself from, yet this was still in fairly recent memory. This was still who you were wasn't it?

You seemed to be fished out from your wandering mind as he began to speak, and while he had ceased touching his own wrists and flesh, either out of wishful appearances of having everything under control, or a rush of embarrassment at the habit, it was still clear that he wished he hadn't. He started the statement with an almost sarcastic laugh.

"Figure yer about the only one on the squad who doesn' know, so better yuh hear 't straight from the horses mouth 'nstead of from one of those gossipin' lassies yuh always hang around. Don't need that pretty face of yours sneerin' at me anymore than it has already, 'specially if it's over somethin' untrue or blown out 'f proportion."

Used to hang around with. Don't think they'd much like to even be in the same room as me now. But you couldn't find any courage to even speak the rebuttal. You didn't have to right to separate yourself from that life yet. It'd be done for you in time if you really did clean up your act.

Now it was his time to be overtly embarrassed, though it was clear he was trying to be cordial. Considering you were the one naked in the shower, you weren't sure how embarrassing this would have to be.

"Canines as a whole got their matin' seasons, yeah? I ain't a full blown dog or nothin' but every now 'nd then-" He trailed off and made a gesture with his hand that you couldn't decipher the nature of.

"'nitially, they jus' tossed some meds my way 'nd called 't a day. But the meds toned everythin' down. Made me sluggish. Delayed reactions 'nd all that. So rather than riskin' my capacity as a soldier 'n case I ever needed to be deployed while drugged, I started-" His face was practically beet red now, you were about to say he didn't need to explain further if it was too embarrassing but he opened his mouth first.

"-gettin' that extra energy 'ut with someone else. That worked better. Ain't an air tight system but it seemed a good alternative. As 'pposed to a full week of bein' drugged up and loopey, it's jus' losing me and my.....helper for 24 hours, and then check up after the time's up. 'm usually fine after that. Maybe a bit headstrong or- I don't know, I guess protective 's a good word for 't? 'm a bit protective 'f my helper but it's nothin' too bad."

He rubbed his eyes, and though you suspected he didn't have anything wrong with his ocular region, he still continued rubbing while he spoke.

"I got one designated 'elper cause with 'im it's a guarantee that there ain't any threat of actually convincin' somethin'. He's out doin' something for this week. Normally it ain't an issue 'cause they're pretty good on 'nsurin' he's never out when it's 'round my time. But they needed him, so I got the short end of the stick. Yuh happened to catch me killin' time before meds happened to scamper over to shove some pills in my face."

The silence that filled the room left an uncomfortable prickle along your spine as you stared at him. The smell of wet dog was still pungent in the room, and though it was nearly overwhelming, you could detect the slightest hint of sulfur mixed in with it.

Sulfur?

Oh.

Now that you looked him over, under a scrutinizing stare, his pants did seem a big bigger around the hips than what fit him, the drawstring tied tightly to ensure they stayed up. You'd have bet your dignity and what life you had, that those weren't his.

Alright. It made sense you guessed. A literal dead dude wasn't exactly prime breeding material so it stood to reason that the base wouldn't be waiting with baited breath and terror about it.

You nodded in cautious acknowledgment, unsure of what else to do. You didn't really have any secrets or burdens to share with him in return. And although you did care about his opinion of you, you cared more about staying warm. So with a cautious gesture behind you, you motioned as if turning the spigot, and you watched him cycle through confusion, disappointment and acceptance in a split second before waving a thumbs up at you and turning around as though about to wash his hands.

As you snapped the water back on and felt the flood of warm water splash over you again, you attempted to drown out the scent of him. What else were you supposed to do? It wasn't like you could make Ghost magically pop over here. And for a few minutes, you stood in the water stream trying to ignore the information he'd just tossed your way. He really was a dog, huh? Just some mutt in heat that needed another stray dog to whimper and bark as-

Stop. That's not who you are anymore. Cut it out. He didn't chose that life anymore than you chose to be shivering and trembling under a stream of water because you're too pathetic to make your own body heat.

You heard the hiss of the shower curtain beside you snap open and the howl of water as he bathed himself in the embrace of the stream. You slumped down again, your back against the tile as you stared at the adjacent wall with dull eyes as you attempted to fall back into the half-sleep you'd found yourself in earlier.

And for a while, that's what you got. Though instead of continued peace, you were met with the smell of sweat. The sound of coughing breaths and grunts that led you to understand almost immediately what your shower companion was up to.

Leave. Give him privacy.

And yet after you pushed yourself to your feet, standing in the puddle of splashing water, you realized you didn't really want to. So instead you stood for a few minutes, listening to the sound of his choked breathing as he attempted to keep himself quiet and drown out his sounds with the chorus of the water.

"Do you want me to help?"

What? Why the hell did you say that? What's wrong with you? Okay so take the statement back. Cover it up with a cough.

"What?"

Say nothing, say you sneezed, say something else. Back out.

"I mean, I know I'm not a wraith, but I am dead. So- I mean I don't think the base would have any reason to worry about- y'know conceiving something."

....I hate you.

"I ain't looking to force you, and I didn't tell yuh all that stuff to get yuh to pity me enough to offer-"

"You're not. You didn't. I'm- look I'm genuinely offering. If you don't want to, that's alright. I'm just putting it out there."

You swallowed hard as you waited for his response. Silence hung like a heavy cloud, the splash of water on the tiles provided the only audible stimulation, and you were sure he'd stopped breathing considering you couldn't hear the slightest peep on his end. Great job. You screwed up and now your squad mate thought you were a weirdo who was so desperate to get fucked that they were exploiting their suffering teammate. Might as well try to resign, though you doubted they'd even let-

"Alright." He sounded less reluctant, and instead more cautious. He began breathing again, shallow pin pricks of air as you heard him grunt and resituate, then the sound of skin on tile as he presumably leaned against the wall, giving you room to squeeze into the shower stall with him. You tugged your curtain to the side, the familiar hiss sounding out as you walked the few steps to his, watching his fidgeting silhouette through the opaque curtain before you eventually stepping into his.

It wasn't that he was particularly tall, but now as he turned his head to the side to avoid meeting what he assumed would be an accusatory gaze, his craned neck made him appear as though he might've easily dwarfed you in size. That and his squared shoulders and well-kept physique. He'd seemed embarrassed in your conversation but now his lack of eye contact seemed more as his attempt at giving you time to rethink your decision without the pressure of his eyes boring into your skull.

The water that he had spraying out was noticably colder than the water of your choice. But then again, you could feels the heat practically radiating off him, and you suspected he was similar to Price in that regard. Though from a different root cause.

You felt yourself resisting the urge to begin squirming in discomfort, though you were insistent on not making a fool of yourself. Your gaze traveled over him as though sizing up a foe, though you stopped changing your focus after your eyes landed on his groin. You'd been watching his chest rise and fall with each uncertain breath, that had drawn your attention to the thin trail of hair down his chest all the way to the thatch of hair below his navel, where your gaze had landed on his cock.

You didn't consider yourself promiscuous by nature, but you weren't a virgin, it wasn't as though this was your first time seeing a dick, but you would say this was the first time you'd felt intimidated. You wouldn't have been caught raving about the size, but you did feel your mouth go dry. There were a few veins visible even from where you stood now, and the flushed red tip did not go unnoticed either. But the swollen knot at the base drew your attention as you furrowed your brows. Even if you did help with some, you weren't sure that would ever fit. It was already practically coated in pre-cum and you could only imagine how long he'd spent fussing in his cot with his face buried in Simon's slacks as he attempted to pretend that the garment signaled Simon's actual presence.

You saw him cast a quick glance over your face as though attempting to gauge your reaction without seeming too obvious or without seeming like he was demanding one.

Here goes nothing?

Your movements were sluggish, now giving him plenty of time to back out of your deal if he so chose, but seeing as he remained almost statuesque in movement level and pose, you assumed he was alright with your opening. Without thinking too deeply, you brought your palm forward to lay against the underside of his cock as it stood erect.

"Yer colder than I was expectin'." He finished his statement with a chuckle as though he somehow hadn't understood the extent of what you meant when you'd been claiming to need the water to warm you up.

You gave a hum of acknowledgement before closing your fingers around the length of his shaft, your thumb pressed against his leaking cock-head as you watched him twitch. Unwilling to seem any more discomforted than he already had, and yet he was fighting a losing battle as you watched his Adam's apple bob before rubbing his eyes as he had before.

You watched him reach to his side and turn the nozzle to turn the water warmer, for his own enjoyment as much as yours as he watched your muscles relax in the welcoming embrace of the heated spray. He swallowed again as your fingers squeezed gently, sliding them down to the base where you proceeded to hear him give a hiss of an inhale as he gritted his teeth at the agitation of the sensitive spot. With a few moments pause, you trace your thumb along his cock-head again before standing up straight and kissing the side of his neck. Leaving a small bite mark on the tendon-pulled skin.

What you hadn't been expecting was his hands to suddenly find your shoulders and push you against the tiled wall behind you, dipping out of your bite before roughly pressing his lips to yours. You would bruise, you were sure of it. And just like the other few ones, you wouldn't heal. Some others you figured would be reminders of fights or blunt trauma but a bruise from being manhandled during sex? A permanent mark?

Fuck, it was too late to do anything about it now. You met his force with the same intensity, slamming yourself against him and yanking your hand along his cock in one swift jerk that made him whine into your mouth. His hands wandered, grabbing roughly at anything and everything he could sink his nails into, though he at least had the sense to not puncture your skin.

He pressed you tight against the wall and it surprised you that you hadn't heard the crack of tile or cement yet from how he kept amping up the force as he repeated the motion of pulling you closer to him before shoving you back against the wall. If he had a tail, you were sure it'd have been wagging and that certainly would've been a funny sight, though you would have to make due with the needy groans that he kept making anytime he removed his lips from yours to bite or lick at your neck.

One of his hands left the meat of your hip and moved to the back of your head, pushing you tight against his burning flesh, his heat leaving you in a similar bliss as Price's had. Though the moment of solace with your face pressed against his neck was lost as he shoved you against the wall again, this time the pressure hitting his own hand as though he'd realized that he shouldn't have been handling you so roughly. Though your theory was debunked as he used his other hand to flip you around so your back was to him and your chest was against the tile now.

The height difference ensured you felt his warm cock against the base of your back. Your breath left your mouth in short spurts as you felt him bite at your neck from behind now, before looking over the damage he'd already caused in terms of the scattered flecks of discolored skin. Though if he cared, he had a funny way of showing it seeing as how he promptly grabbed at your ass and hips and squeezed the flesh till you were sure he'd have drawn blood if you had any to shed.

You felt him still for a moment longer and waited switch baited breath for his next move, only to be flipped around again, though this time without the luxury of his hand blocking the shock. You felt him hoist you up with a grunt but little effort as though you weighed nothing, and you had little time to ask what he was doing before he slammed you down onto his cock with no warning.

It leaves you screaming wordlessly as you feel tears threaten the corners of your eyes as he grunts into your chest. You might've tried to pull yourself off if you'd found the strength to, but seeing as his grip was holding you in place, it seems fruitless anyways. Instead, you snapped your mouth shut and dug your nails into his shoulders as you leaned your head back against the tile and felt him begin pulling out and then ramming back into you as though he fancied himself to be a violent piston.

You grit your teeth and do your best to ignore the pain that tears through your body and leaves you gasping for breaths you don't need to take. You hook your legs over his hips and he greets that movement with tossing you up a few extra inches to leave himself barely in you before letting you drop back fully down on his cock as he moves his face to resume biting and licking at your chest and neck with vigor as he continued working you like an oversized fleshlight. The distinct shape of the knot occasionally bumping against you when he snapped his hips up to meet your jostling bobbing that you'd begun doing to avoid being completely man-handled.

You suspected Simon probably had an easier time with this shit considering you weren't even sure if he could bruise or feel pain. But you were his cheap replacement for the night, a chew toy for him to make due on. And fair, you'd offered yourself, and while a part of you wanted to recede your offer now, you found you couldn't will your lips to move nor your mouth to articulate anything besides a stifled moan, and you weren't sure you wanted more. Only around 24 hours right? You could bear to miss a day of P.T.

~

By the time you're done, everything hurts and you're left with a hormonal Scotts-man passed out beside you, snoring quietly as he holds you tightly. As the time began to come to an end, he'd seemed more fatigued than anything else, and his finale climax had been done with a whine. The next thing you remembered was waking up in his bunk in the barracks with him holding close against him as though he were a skittish child clinging desperately to a security blanket. The smell of wet fur and dog breath was all enveloping, but you found it didn't bother you as much this time, though you wouldn't soon be singing it's praise as a perfume.

The bunks are quiet and you don't suspect anyone is oblivious to the reason of your absence the day prior. And even if they were, the very obvious bruising in very, choice areas, were enough of a dead giveaway to any glance of scrutiny. But that was tomorrow's problem. At the moment, you focus on the sound of his breathing instead. The feeling of his chest rising and falling against your side and his occasional twitch as he dreams whatever his fucked out brain can think of. His breath is warm on your neck and the small bruises he left along your shoulders during his activities, and you wonder if you ever would've experienced this had you not dropped dead and been reborn.

You don't sing praise for your predicament or your death, but you raise a good question. If not for the bullet to your brain, you would've died only thinking about him as a slobbering mutt. A dog with violence and sex as the only thoughts that it's mind could possibly have the capacity to think of. You hadn't thought that honestly, but it wasn't far off. You'd thought him an unpredictable, liability who was crude in the best of circumstances and who pissed you off simply by being in the same room as you at the worst. What did you think of him now?

....in all honesty you weren't sure. But you now had a gnawing in your heart that left you eager to learn more about him. A sensation that left you trying to memorize the way his fingertips were drawing lazy circle around your hips despite his lack of consciousness. A sensation that left you turning on your side to play your back against his chest and try to mimic his breathing. A sensation that left you wanting to follow him around and simply watch his day to day behavior, asking questions about him and his habits as he went along. Now that he'd already fucked you senseless once, you could get to know him. Ironic.

The warmth radiating off him is what draws your attention more. As though cuddled in the arms of your lover on a cold winter day next to a roaring fire after a frostbitten walk. And though you knew in a few days he'd be back hanging around Simon and spending his tussling with the wraith, you found comfort in this night. And though you couldn't find sleep despite your fatigue, you also found you didn't mind laying awake, held gently in the arms of a teammate. Even if they did have dog breath.

[a2zillustration]

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[ganondoodle]

rough beast ganondorf design + sketches + notes design combines the typical boar form (dark beast + cloud form from botw), the oni one (demon king gan) hint at the draconic one to come but keep part of his humanity with his clothing being mostly intact

as the battle with Demon King Ganondorf comes to an end, the sages previously knocked out start to wake up again, he is cornered and hurt and as fear of being imprisoned, tortured and exploited overwhelms him he transforms into the Beast form, breaking the arena you were fighting him in and him going for Zelda as she is the biggest threat (he remembers her destroying dark beast gan and she reminds him of sonia, who is the one you sealed his human body back in the day)

you and zelda flee through the cracks of the earth as more earthquakes happen with a beast at your heels thats now truly only out to kill as fast as possible as he burrows after you (first sketch)

the path takes you both just below the surface and as you are trapped in a dead end zelda shields herself and link with her light shield ability, which protects you both from immediate damage but cant soften the impact from gan charging at you, the impact of which breaks you all three to the surface and the battle takes place in the same spot as botws dark beast fight-

fight is very challenging as gan is smaller than the dark best version, jumping and charging at you while still able to cast spells, now truly throwing everything he can at you in the hopes of ending you both

fight ends with you shooting an arrow at zelda, her deflecting it at the right angle and it shooting off the enigma stone on gans forehead; he falls seemingly defeated and as zelda runs to take the stone away gan through sheer panic lunges for the stone triggering his dragon transformation and making way for the final fight

(summary of the end: in the final fight gan snatches up both link and zelda once he transformed into the black dragon and takes flight toward the sky, zelda falls from between his teeth and knowing that she cant get to link and help him in any way from the ground she, while falling, takes out the enigma stone she has kept in a save container in her backpack all this time and swallows it for her own transformation, in her white dragon form she takes active action and charges at gans head so link is freed, then supports him in the fight itself; at the end link plunges into dragon-gans mouth to reach the stone on the inside where he makes use of the 'medicine' previously made using the moonbloom taked from kogas secret lab, link and the stone are spit out and as gan reverses into a human and falls link is caught by zelda and he uses the second charge of it on her to bring her back as well; as all three fall from the skies as the sages have made their way through the tunnel that beast gan made earlier, they help link and zelda getting to the ground safely while the yiga do the same for gan - final end end isnt determined yet but this is waht i got so far and even if i have written this once before i felt it was fitting to do it again and no you cant tell me this is too much of a wishfulfillment thing bc it literally is just that as i cant actualyl change whats in the game, so even if im trying to make it all fit well together i can still do what i want nhakjdbgshdbhsjka)

(totk rewritten project)

[egophiliac]

Hello!! I followed you for your absolutely amazing Twisted Wonderland comics (thank you for making them, by the way-) but I saw you posting about something called Ride Kamens? I haven’t heard of it before, what’s it about? Or if that’s a bit much to ask, where could I find more info about it? It seems right up my alley 👀

Thank you!

thank you! :> :> :> (this is also for the other anon who asked about where to find it, I am honored to be infecting the world spreading interest in this silly game)

Ride Kamens is still doing prerelease marketing and isn't out yet; it's set for "early summer 2024", so a bit yet to go! similar to Twst, it's a mobile game about anime boys loosely based on an existing franchise (Kamen Rider), although it seems like it's going to be more standalone/won't require familiarity with Rider going in.

the (very) basic premise is that your player character has just taken over their late father's role as a secret agent, supporting the city's superheroes by running a secret base disguised as a cafe (plus you have a personal butler for some reason) (the reason is because it's amazing). you also have to help the heroes regain their lost memories, and it looks like it'll have a bit of a route/choice aspect there (not romance, just different endings to the character episodes depending on what you do). the details are kinda hard to tell at this point but the characters seem like a really fun bunch; there's definitely big "idiots with emotional problems" energy which I am extremely into.

all the official info is in Japanese only at the moment, but here's the website and the ride_kamens twitter! (though the twitter is sort of overtaken by posts about the AnimeJapan exhibit right now, whoops.) and I believe some people are already planning on doing translations for it too? lots to look forward to! :D

[sysig]

A very normal scientist doing very normal gene splicing experiments (Patreon)

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.

[garfieldcultist]

if i had a nickel for every person that fell into the underground id have eight nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it happened eight times right?

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

5

(F I V E)

5. What's your controversial marine biology take? Oh, have I been talking about my controversial takes these past few days! Ocean sunfish.... beautiful, so silly but so beautiful.

To name another thing, perhaps this is moreso something that grinds my gears rather than a controversial take but I haaaaate when people say that male seahorses get pregnant. It's what it looks like but it's not the case!!! He just has a pouch where the egg are deposited for safekeeping, it's like mouthbrooding but with a designated pouch!! He does not produce the eggs and all the nutrition the eggs receive was never from him!!! Perhaps I get too hung up on these aquatic animal technicalities, but it still makes me needlessly annoyed whenever in fiction there's like, seahorses, and they imply that the process of seahorse baby development is the exact same as human baby development but.... backwards for sexes..?

[novaauster]

girl help i have written 26 pages of my aftg bjj au in the span of three days

[obessivedork]

The thing that draws me to Digimon above Pokemon, I think, is the idea that a Digimon is uniquely your special little guy (genderless) who is your best friend forever. I undestand that Pokemon have to chose the trainer too, but with Digmon this friend exists JUST for you, absolutely NO one else could share your bond with them! Your special little guy (genderless) is a friend who can TALK with you! You can go on an adventure together to save both of your worlds and better yourselves together during the process!

Also: In the shows they go back to their cute and cuddly rookie forms after fights and that was definitely a factor when I was a kid- I've always liked how fluid digivolution is!

[boyfriendyke]

there r a lot of things about the myth of psyche and eros that makes me a little insane but one of them has always been the tasks from aphrodite and the unfairness of it. they're not intended to be possible. they're so obviously not meant to be possible, and psyche isn't fucking hercules, you know, she's not a demigod or whatever, she's mortal and these aren't mortal tasks!! it's why psyche has to be helped with each one, fucking by like ants and river gods and shit. and so like. idk. i know ppl see psyche and eros as like a story about love and shit which obviously it is but as a kid psyche and eros always felt like a story about being able to accept help