#sentient beverage

[drchucktingle]

Bobbi’s searching for inspiration at the local chocolate milk shop, heading out to cook up a few new short story ideas with a friend. Unfortunately, this typically productive location has become quite distracting thanks to the seasonal arrival of pumpkin spice lattes, which Bobbi despises.

Hoping to seem cool and counteract the extreme basicness of this situation, Bobbi orders a cup of rock milk, but when she spots author Chuck Tingle at one of the café tables, Bobbi starts to wonder if rock milk was the way to go. After all, what’s so bad about people finding a little joy in a seasonal beverage?

Now Bobbi is wrapped up in a pumpkin spice experience of her own, culminating with a hardcore lesbian encounter that proves it’s okay to have a little fun sometimes.

This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on sentient fall beverage action and lesbian pumpkin spice latte love.

----

new tingler THIS PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE GETS ME OFF IN A FUN AND SINCERE WAY BECAUSE IT’S OKAY FOR PEOPLE TO ENJOY POPULAR THINGS WITHOUT BEING SHAMED FOR THE PERCEIVED “BASICNESS” OF THEIR BEVERAGE CHOICES out now on amazon or patreon

[power-handmaiden]

Day 27: Shared By The Chocolate Milk Cowboys

I remember back in 2015-2016 when I was reading tinglers for the first time, I skipped this one for a while, because there are a lot of them and chocolate milk just didn't inherently appeal to me as much as other living objects. When I finally read "Handsome Sentient Food Pounds My Butt And Turns Me Gay" I realized I was missing out, and I should have known better- because unlike coffee (the beverage I personally find sexier), chocolate milk has a special significance to the Tingleverse. (I hope someday we get a spaghetti tingler. That could be great for some tentacle-type action. OK maybe my monsterfucker bias is showing.)

This tingler is one I recommend to people who are tingler-curious but aren't really romance fans in general. I love it when tinglers go to unexpected places. Also, some of my favorite tinglers are ones that end with a main character's destruction or some sort of cataclysmic event. It's just something you don't see often in romance, and it makes tinglers more exciting to me that while the story might end with the main characters getting together romantically or parting ways, there are a whole host of other possibilities, like... the main character being fatally wounded and killing an alternate version of his future sexual partners in the middle of the story, and eventually becoming the universe itself. God, this one goes places.

[holyghostbelle]

all those vile things

dannyjohnson!ghostface x reader blessed with quick wit and and a long list of medication your beginning to think being obsessed with a stalker couldn't be more healthier

09’

You lie back and smoke a cigarette, a bottle of jack in your hand spilling on the oversized band t-shirt you wore fished out from a thrift store from some tour you never got tickets for. Your eyes are glued to the tv, yet half interested in the House of a 1000 corpses movie rented out from blockbuster 2 months ago, There's ash on your notepad, not that you had taken any notes yourself, you take to sipping and gulping down any intoxicating beverage you can get your hands on these days, you're on the edge from the local killer.

(kind of, but not really you hope he stabs you with his knife and then licks it up, it's more of an excuse to get intoxicated and then pass out to an episode of dateline)

You rip open a pack of m&ms with your teeth and that guy from the office dies, his body is turned into a fish and you laugh maniacally as the dumb girls run into a room with another killer, and then Otis has corpse paint on and as much as his sideburns disgust you but you can't help feeling attracted to the guy, you feel sick at the thought of being oddly aroused but it's okay because its not real! and it's not like you fantasising about ted bundy or anything, but you did stalk the true crime tag on tumblr and find a bunch of fan edits with flower crowns.   You fall asleep on the sofa and then wake up at 3 in the morning. Moving to the comfort of your bed which is only 5 feet away from the small second hand cracked leather sofa, you toss and turn until you're stuck on your back, hands unable to grip the sheets as you watch black oozing from the ceiling, you imagine its sentient and can peer into your brain and witness how sick you truly are, and then you wake up and it's 8am, you go to college  in the clothes from last night, your laces are undone and you trip over them on the street while inhaling a cigarette and drinking a monster energy drink, it spills onto denim and leaves a small sticky wet patch.  

You fell asleep in your film studies class, seven different people had all chosen ‘twin peaks:fire walk with me’ to write an essay on. You laugh as they speak nonsensically about Laura Palmer and how the movie was more about discovering who she was than how she was murdered, it's all the same recycled garbage you said a year ago, back when your professor was that feminist guy. You picture Dale Cooper in a red room, you remember when the constant jokes from the simpsons, you think about Laura Palmer's cold blue body on the beach wrapped in plastic and then how david lynch left the show and it all became fucked up. Someone drones on about American psycho and how the murders were in his head. 

You leave class, smoke a cigarette outside in the parking lot and lean against your beat up car. Your cracked ipod nano plays Jeff Buckley and Elliott Smith simultaneously and then some 80s song you used to be so obsessed with and it reminds you of how your ex drove you home after you broke up with him, how his hand gripped yours and you didn't hold it back. You don't sob like usual. You don't think about how he was so angry he held your neck without squeezing, just to look you in the eyes and call you a bitch. 

You fidget with your dungarees and then drive to work. Leaning against the counter as you watch kids flick through comics and then flick though vinyls laughing at covers with girls with their huge tits out, and then looking at the r-rated movies with eyes and needles. Then leaving a mess and stepping out of the shop without buying anything. You steal a pack of gum from the display in front of you and change the cassette to the b side, you repeat this till it's 8pm and dark outside.

Then it's time to close up the shop, shutting the blinds, switching off all the lights, you close and lock the front door with the keys, and shove them deep into your pocket. It's a cold and icy night. You pull the vintage motorcycle jacket you stole from your ex around your shoulders and light a cigarette. Walking around the side of the shop deep into the alleyway to get your car from the employee car park behind all the shops, you stop in your tracks. Gravel kicking against the wall.

Theres a whine and a moan and you almost think someones fucking until you notice the trail of blood that leads exactly to the body in the corner, who ever it is put up a fight. There's a man clambering over him, a camera swinging to the side of his body as you watch him cut deep into his chest,his guts spill intestines falling out into the concrete like confetti, you hear it slap to the floor. You feel sick. 

The body looks at you  pleading and begging with its eyes and he moans, your eyes widen and the man with the camera looks directly at you, his masked face cocking to the side in curiosity, you shake and look over to your car which is and i say this lightly, funnily enough right next to the killer and his victim. Blood coating the exterior. Bloody streaks over the silver paint, you almost feel bad for yourself knowing how much it's gonna cost to clean the blood off your car. It's selfish really. Consider there a man choking on his own blood right in front of you.

You think about backing away and running…but you stand frozen and watch the man bleed out, his blood pouring out like an afterthought. White masked man snaps a photo, and then another he slashes at the victim's throat, the life drains quickly out of his eyes and you watch him take one last ragged breath as his eyes tell you to run as fast as you can. 

Then he turns his black eyes and gaping jaw keeping you in place, his leather gloved hand shushes at you as he approaches like a predator to his prey.

 You.

Your heart thumps against your chest. He pushes you to the brick wall, you whine at how harsh you hit it. He takes the cigarette out of your hand leather brushing against your coldfinger tips and presses it to your mouth. 

‘Go on, smoke it’ His voice is gravely and deep.

You puff on the cancerous stick, you picture him smiling under the mask. He stares at you through mesh eyes. Your hands are scratching at the brick wall behind you. 

How many minutes do you have left? Will he leave you to bleed, or watch?

Suddenly there's a knife against your throat. It's cold and unforgiving and you've forgotten how to breathe. It brushes to just under your chin and then it's tracing against your cheek, you whimper as it catches, a bead of blood rolling down, he catches it with his thumb and smears it on your lips, cigarette falling to the floor, smoke exhaling as your eyes tear up. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes closing ready to meet your demise, cunt throbbing, as you feel the air against your neck, you wait for it to plunge your hands tight around your coat.

“Are you going to kill me?” you whimper, the knife trails deeper, to your sternum and you feel hot breath on your neck, there's a sniff and the zipper of your jacket catches and it pulled down, you don't dare look waiting in anticipation, you feel you him unbuckle your dungarees the denim falling to your crutch and then your t-shirt lifts up there's a pause, cold against your skin, cold air and then the steel slices into you with ease, you feel yourself lean over and his hand pushes your head back into the wall until your upright. It tears through quickly soiling your clothes with red sticky blood.

 “If you're going to kill me, do it already” you whimper at him. His touch leaves you and you await for his hard hand to push the steel metal into you. It never comes.

Your eyes open slowly and he's gone, you stand for a minute and peek your eyes round the corner to stare at the body. Hand clutching at the wound he gave you, spanning four inches. Blood coating your hand.

You call the police obviously, you're questioned all night after you're all stitched up. you tell them about him approaching you, but not how he pressed his thumb to your lips and your cunt throbbed, you pretend it never happened. You pretend that you pushed him off and got scared, sparing you. 

They let you go at 12pm, an officer drives you back to your apartment, your crappy silver car is marked as a crime scene. You call up Adam and tell him you're not going to be in the next day due to the whole ‘stabbing incident’ he wishes you well.

You take two sleeping pills and drink the rest of the whiskey from the other night, you throw up at the thought of the body in front of you. The pills come up half dissolved with it. You fall asleep to a rerun of Criminal Minds and dream of Spencer Reid finding you tied up in the basement somewhere, 

He kisses you gently and combs back his horribly long parted greasy hair with his hand. He starts to recite a chapter of wuthering heights “'Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?”,  it turns to pure gibberish in your mind and you sigh at him as he takes your soft cheeks in his hands tenderly  lips tracing your neck in soft kisses and then he rips out your throat with his teeth, you bleed out all over the basement floor as he kisses your neck and revels with enjoyment in your blood. White pressed shirt soaked in maroon.

Your eyes open and you're stuck to your sofa, your tv flickers over and over, and the masked man appears within the metal box, the tv screen flickers in fuzzy blacks and whites. He's covered in blood and it's blackened with age.cavernous eyes and unhinged jaw. He taps against the screen and waves the knife in his hand. You pant against your leather sofa bare arms suck to the couch with sweat, itchy hot. His hand reaches outwards to pull himself out and then he's on top of you, his knife slicing through the flesh on your bare legs and chest as you're forced to endure it in your frozen state. You close your eyes as his arms lift to plunge the knife in deep, when they open the street lights flicker off through the window. mesh curtains drifting in the wind. 

You awake again a blanket thrown over your body haphazardly, your phone tells you it's 6 in the morning. You smoke a cigarette on your fire exit and watch the sunrise, you remember to not take sleeping pills with alcohol.

You look in the mirror and pick at the scab on your cheek, it drools with blood and you push it into your lips again, imagining it's his hand, you don't scold yourself this time, you tell yourself you'll never see him again. Then you lift your shirt and stare at the gash he left you, blood still smeared around the edges of the huge plaster they gave you at the hospital. You brush your teeth and spit out blood and teeth. When you blink all you see is the foamy toothpaste down the sink, you think you're going mad, its stress you tell yourself it's nothing to worry about. You open your wardrobe and black slime oozes out of it.

Your mom phones you at 8 before class, you tell her you're fine (your not)that you've been going to therapy(you haven't) that you've stopped drinking(likely chance)that that article she read on her phone was correct and you did see that killer that's been going round but your safe you promise( this is true, but your not safe, not even from yourself)

You head to college again and ignore the rumours going around about how you got stabbed by the killer, people ask about the scratch on your face and you tell them it was your cat that you don't own.

You go back home and cry at a video of a rat dancing in the rain, you scratch at the cut on your face until it bleeds again with your hand in between your thighs, stomach aching as you crumble into a shit position,you think about that night until you come over and over in your bed, sheets sticking to your body with sweat. You take a shower and close your eyes under the burning hot water, you catch your knee while using a cheap men’s razor shaving and watch the blood run into the water like psycho, you watch a western movie on tv, James dean rides a horse with a cigarette hanging out his mouth as he smirks in black and white. 

You don't take a sleeping pill that night and stare into the popcorn ceiling until you witness cosmic horror beyond your own belief, you face stares back at you and then its eyes are torn from its head, you watch a body be exsanguinated and then flayed and sewn back together again and blood is pumped back into your body, you see that boys body as a car drives past, the way the blood trailed down his neck like a red scarf.

You fall asleep to sirens and screams.

It is Florida after all

[emeraldtart]

TWST X No Straight Roads (ft. 1010!Yuu)

After the whole Rock Revolution fiasco, Neon J decided it's time to introduce a new member to 1010. Also because his twins (Eloni and Haym) wanted a baby sibling.

So he made Kaw*. The crew's newest member, rapper, and the mysterious one. Since they're recently made, they're as sentient as MK-I androids, but it doesn't stop their fellow troops and captain from trying to indulge them.

Unfortunately, an incident involving Kliff messing with Neon J and DJSS's newest equipment caused them to be pulled to Twisted Wonderland to everyone's horror.

Facts about 1010!Yuu

Their name is a pun on two things 'kau' which is one of the ways to say 'you', which is in a more casual way as opposed to 'awak'. And also 'kaw' which means strong tasting beverages.

They're not sentient (yet)

They are made as a foil to Rin, from their colors (white vs purple), roles (leader and loner) and 'age' (oldest and youngest).

Their weapon is a gun, and they have a sniper gun installed in their arms. Think of Lady Nagan from MHA.

They haven't met Bunk Bed Junction. Their siblings were planning to meet with them until the incident.

Throughout the prologue they're just standing there like ._. while the chaos is happening around them. Nothing in their programming make them equipped with this situation.

Flirt with the first years + dorm leaders because they mistake them as a crowd of fans.

Their base programming/personality can be summed up as: quiet.

Shroud brothers are equal part excited and confused. Excited because holy crap, an idol robot!? That's cool! Confused because who installs weapons inside a idol robot!?

They're waterproof, as they are a navy robot.

Idia realizes he's a hypocrite because he did the same thing to Ortho.

Kaw is mostly expressionless until they see a large enough crowd and they suddenly flirts with them.

They can sing and dance, and sometimes sings the last word of a sentence.

Neon J made Kaw more durable, as he had learnt from his encounter with B2J during the Rock Revolution. They won't explode from people screaming, and they also have a sort of mini-Qwasa in their body that they can charge by listening to Funky House and Dance-pop/Europop music, which they can do simply be performing a song in that genre.

They're also charged by cheers like their brothers.

Since they came from a world that revolves around music, their body occasionally moves to an invisible tempo, even when they are standing still.

Started to show signs of sentience during Heartslabyul when Riddle insulted Neon J. They began to insult him back in a way only robots can, and everyone who heard their words were scared of what they said.

In Savanaclaw they started to 'have fun' playing a magicless form of Magishift with the first years and Savanaclaw.

Octavinelle was when they became fully sentient. They suddenly cried when the Savanaclaw students tried to pick a fight with them, as the stress finally catch up with them.

Everyone freaks out because 1) They can cry!? and 2) Oh shit, they're crying.

It also happens that at that moment Neon J managed to connect with Kaw's hologram projector + communicator, sees his metal child crying with an awkward Savanaclaw gang and Grim trying to console them, and began to threat the ever-loving daylights out of the students.

After all is said and done, Kaw explains everything and Neon J starts making plans on how to take out Azul.

Kaw: Dad. You can't do that, that's illegal.

Neon J: I know. But just so you know, your older brothers are not going to- wait. Did you just call me dad!?

Kaw: Wha- I- I mean SIR! *salutes*

Neon J: Oh my gosh... TROOPS! YOUR FELLOW SOLDIER HAS GAINED SENTIENCE! COME TAKE A LOOK!

Kaw: DAD, NO!!!

Savanaclaw looking at Neon J and thought: Oh Sevens, they weren't kidding when they said their captain(dad?) has a sonar for a head.

Jack may or may have not taken a picture of Neon J's hologram and send it to ADeuce (the picture got photobombed by the rest of 1010)

Let just say that Crowley's on NJ + 1010's hit list when they found out what he made their youngest member do.

The list of people increased when Neon J brought it up to NSR meetings.

B2J found out through 1010 who were hanging out with them.

Crowley is on sight in Vinyl City, beaten only by Kliff.

When VDC rolls in, they join in the training as emotional support.

Kaw managed to find a loophole in Vil's Unique Magic so they sneak in some sweets for the VDC team.

Trein noticed Kaw's disappointment at not being allowed to join in on VDC, being a 10-feet 10-inches tall robot and all. He pulled some strings with Crewel and allow Kaw to join in on the closing ceremony with their brothers.

Let just say that Kaw aced both history and potionology as a thank you gift.

As for Malleus, he was interested in this tall robot. A being made of metal, that sings and dance and powered by music? Very interesting indeed.

Their talk at first is very brief because of Kaw's lack of sentience, but then they started to become more human and eventually Malleus pointed out how they have become much more than what they were born for; a living being.

Kaw calls him Abang (Big brother/older brother).

Rin felt that his status as the eldest brother is being challenged.

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Hiiii!!!! Can I please request a headcanon home brew with the reader being friends with rocky? It can be angsty or fluffy or whatever you prefer! Thank you 😁

Took a more lighthearted direction with this, to offset a particularly angsty romantic oneshot that’s eventually to come… One must maintain a balanced diet of their illicit beverages and all. It also ended up a bit specific. Hope you enjoy!

So you’ve become friends with the notorious poet, eh? Congratulations! There likely wasn’t much effort needed on your part.

He’s naturally talkative (and how) as well as sociable (though lacking the skill), but you had to have bumped into him several times in the same setting before a true habit was formed of it.

Being a regular at the café or the speakeasy is the setup that most easily lends itself… maybe one before the other, though he wouldn’t bring you downstairs unless you were explicitly interested. The criminal scene might not be everyone’s cup of tea, after all.

You’re less probable to find out about the Lackadaisy from him, either; it’s likely Ivy told you first, seeing how much you two get along as well as finding you genuinely personable and interesting. But if you end up undeterred by the revelation that he works for a bootlegging operation and would like to take that trip downstairs some night, he’ll be glad to have you see him play with the band!

Speaking of, if you were also an artist, he’d be elated.

The stanzas shall flow like water from an overly tenacious tap regardless of your expertise, of course. Uneducated listening ears are better than none, and he’ll appreciate even surface level analysis and positive feedback if you bother with such. Don’t fret if you don’t understand all of the words or get tangled up in an abundant array of alliterative allegories. You’ll learn to adjust accordingly. (Or so he assures.)

But! If you’re a kindred creative soul, it’s a common ground he’ll hop onto with utmost eagerness.

A fellow poet or writer? He’d hinge on your every word of appraisal. How did you like the flow of this one, (Y/N)? You could practically feel the expressionistic scenery enveloping you with this picturesque wording, could you not? What about that one metaphor about the stars, (Y/N)? Surely it conveyed his message on the sweet transience of life? (Y/N)? Oh, (Y/N)! Please answer him, (Y/N), he’s begging to know.

Don’t worry, it’s not one-sided. He’s always all up in your literary business and half-finished drafts in return, asking plenty of questions and insisting on being your first audience for everything. He’ll listen to you talk yourself out of plot holes and come in handy as a sentient thesaurus whenever you get stuck on the synonyms.

(Though I cannot guarantee he’s capable of providing a distraction-free environment. Any environment truly free of distractions is one where he is absent.)

A musician? Oh boy! Your instruments may not be the slightest bit compatible, but that could never stop him from making the most splendorous harmonies together with his dearest chum!

Teaching each other songs you know is a must. Beloved classics like Vivaldi as well as local tunes from either of your lands of origin; he’s an extremely quick learner, as you’ve found out, with a keen ear and significant thirst for knowledge, especially when it comes to things dear to your heart.

You’ve observed how deeply serene he appears to be when playing a certain song or two with a gentle folk-like ring, as if in a trance of reminiscence. He claims not to understand what you mean when you bring it up… so you play along in silent understanding, earning a smile back when your eyes meet that is, for a change, admittedly softer.

Or perhaps a visual artist? Painter? Comic strip illustrator? Cartoon animator?

He would so brag about having an animator friend (even if only aspiring). To the surprise of no one, he’s a great fan of those whimsical hand-drawn moving pictures. Some may find them silly, but in his vocabulary that’s a staple of high precedence.

Yes, he has been to the movies several times, and a shared interest would provide a stellar excuse to accompany you there. Unfortunately, he both refuses to let you treat and is perpetually penniless, so he has the two of you sneak in by less than rule-abiding means. You’ve gotten thrown out before. (Likely not the first time when going out somewhere with him, and neither is it the last.)

But let’s suppose you’re a painter instead. Likely you’re creating in the chiefly popular styles of the era; impressionism, surrealism, the like. Even if not, he still praises you for sticking to your individuality. If you’re a misunderstood artist like him, he reassures with genuine conviction that you’ll make it into the galleries someday, current trends be damned. (Maybe you both are simply ahead of your time.)

The contents or perceived quality are entirely negligible, because he will find a way to compliment your work. Usually his criticism is focused less around your technical skill and more so his emotions and ideas sparked by the sight that are occasionally heavily abstract or several degrees of detached from your original intent. Still, the different perspective can be… well, interesting to hear out, at least.

When you’re coloring or shading certain parts in certain ways, like circularly or with a soothing curve of the brush, he’ll trail off in whatever he was doing or prattling on about and watch quietly for a bit as you work. It’s only embarrassing when he was in the middle of telling you something; he might even lose that line of thought. (Far from the only time that ever happens to him, so you’re forgiving by now.)

Listen, stimboards didn’t exist in the 1920s. He’ll take what he can get.

As for him, well, his personality isn’t the only thing that stopped substantially developing at the age of twelve. His visual art skills might begin and end at silly-looking scribbles caricaturing himself and the people he knows, but he’s satisfied nonetheless. Ambitious rhymes and ornate metaphors are more his department.

He’s still gotten a chuckle or two out of you with his humorously misshapen efforts at drawing you, so he considers that a win as well.

I’ve mentioned lands of origin. If you’re from a state he’s yet to have visited, he’ll surely ask a number of questions about your experiences living there. But if you’re from overseas? Another continent? Nation he’s scarcely heard of? Square that number and multiply by ten thousand.

It’s exciting to hear about different cultures, alright? He likes to understand you better. In any case you make an easier job of it for him than the other way around.

He’d likely have a lot of respect for you for learning English so well, even more so if mostly by yourself. (Viktor’s intimidating disposition and inclination to punch him at the slightest provocation are not the only reasons he never corrects his phrasing.) If he’d said some difficult or rare word you don’t understand, he wouldn’t have to hesitantly accept your complaints of confusion as exasperated mockery for a change and instead could take the time to kindly explain. Probably in an even more troublesome way. You go through like five overcomplicated synonyms before one of them finally rings a bell… but he’s patient.

Expect spontaneous “hey, how’d you say that in your language?” inquiries in the middle of a conversation, out of sheer curiosity. You may only laugh at his clumsy mimicking of your pronounciation once, because he adapts to the unique sounds of a foreign tongue scarily fast. He greets you with the everyday words you’re rather used to hearing around your hometown thousands of miles away and it’s downright uncanny how natural it sounds. (Which is why you’ve asked him not to do it without warning.)

You can’t quite hold conversations like that yet, but you reckon it’d be fun to annoy everyone else around you with if you ever got him to that point.

The others at the speakeasy are mostly baffled by the fact you’re willingly sticking around, especially if you’re not a colleague, for Rocky’s company. Not many people can, well, tolerate him. He’s honestly a bit much sometimes.

But you liked him when you were running from the cops together in scant apparel covered head to toe in dirt as the flames digesting some poor sod’s patio crackled distantly and you wondered how a starry night walk by the riverside had so inexplicably devolved into acts of incidental vandalism, and you continue to like him nowadays.

He’s your friend, after all. The adventures born of questionable choices are part of the deal. And like his soft-spokenly reluctant cousin (except less so motivated by guilt) you’re there with him through it all to make sure he doesn’t get himself in serious trouble… much.

[axyer]

Imminent Sunrise

Lost at Sea (CCCC AU) story, seventeen-hundred and twenty-one (1.721) words

A simple no stakes fluff fic where Heart and Mind talk on a rooftop and Soul stops by to reminisce.

WARNING: Canon-divergence up ahead!

(Read it on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/53570137)

“(Where do we go when we die?)”

A soft layer of a muted magenta hued the horizon.

A duo of unsightly beings seated themselves at the oak brim of a tall building, tired eyes swallowing the large sight of extending ocean.

“[I feel like you ask me this at least three times every month.]”

Consumed cans of strong beverages lay awkwardly compressed, if not slightly destroyed, occasionally set into a roll by the seaside wind.

Cool dew began to appear on neighbouring plant life; quiet water sifted and shuffled atop itself and crumpled at the shore, far below their point in the sky.

“(Yeah, but I mean… Have we ever came to a solid conclusion?)” Heart asked, finger wrapped around the open side of another can. “(Reincarnation, afterlife, oblivion… do we really know, mate?)”

“[We don't, there. Will that put you to rest?]” The robotic id ruffled the other’s fluffy violet hair.

The Sun at once begun to march up the quiet distance.

A dangling blue light hung from Mind’s esca; a luminescent white eye watching.

“(I don't think so. Sometimes I wonder if you and me have had lots of previous lives, each where we were strange, out-of-place beings with no ties to the nature of this world. Or sometimes I wonder if we’re both angels, anchored to this reality without a trace of our memories until we can prove ourselves…)”

“[…Or maybe we’re just really strange animals that bear no difference to the fauna among us, and we just put ourselves on a pedestal for being supernatural.]”

Mind swallowed a sip of hardy flavour; a fine twinge of pine-like water added to his mouth.

“(You’re boring, you know that?)” Heart said, shoving his brother.

“[Watch it, I wouldn't survive a fall at this height.]” Mind smirked, steadying himself.

The waking cries of gulls had sliced through the otherwise silent morning, daybreak crossing the brightening sky.

“(Soul says when we die, we go to Heaven. What do you imagine Heaven is like? There, that should be easier.)”

“[Well… I like the thought that we would be happy. And anyone we’ve loved will be there, and if we don't love them anymore, we can love them again. All those friends we never got to see again… All of those faces we saw a final time… All of those passerby aquaintances… We’re in a state where everyone loves each other.]”

“(How boring. I like the thought that we fight until only one of us remains, and then that person gets to make the next sentient planet.)”

“[Gee, someone’s got an imagination.]”

Soft feathery appendages shifted and contorted into a fine stretch, several tiny crackles clicking from each as they lengthened.

Long violet feathers stretched from the id’s rear; swaying across the wooden rooftop.

“(Okay, but in all honesty… I think when we die, if there’s a Heaven at all, I like to think we’ll live our best lives. If you've always wanted to be a bird, congrats! You're a bird now, but you've got all the advantages of being a human that you liked. Have you always wanted to live at a waterpark? Well good news Thomas Ralph the IV, now you have a waterpark all to yourself that grows forever.)”

“[But why are we even alive then? Why would we want to exist when we could just die and then live happily forever? Seems like give or take eighty years of ‘meh’ and then forever of wonders seems pointless, don't you think?]”

“(Maybe… Maybe we only get a free trial, until the world has ended.)”

Croaks and groans of feet hitting stairs sauntered up the entrance to the hangout area.

The two ids suddenly bore a frantic expression as they scrambled to gather each can and collect them into a decently neat, insidious pile.

“{Did you two stay up again…?}” Soul said, creaky hands washing the sand from his eyes.

“[Yes.]”

“(No.)”

Trailing towards his two beloved parasites, the Host deposited his form into a comfortable slouch, and snatched a can for himself before taking a greedy string of gulps.

“{Ugh, you two brought the weak stuff.}”

“[It makes my head hurt…]”

“{Can’t believe you two came from me.}” Soul tossed the can from his palm to a long plummet down to the sand. “{…I'll clean that up tomorrow.}”

“[You’d better! Did you know fish and seagulls can get their heads stuck in those?]”

“(It’s true! I had to rescue a good few of them!)”

Soul chuckled.

“{For being such little menaces, you two really do care about everything around you…}” He spoke, words like tepid frost, both hands offering firm, soothing scritches into their hair.

“(Well, our time on this Earth is limited. Why not put what we have to good use?)”

“[We don't belong here… we weren't invited. I think it's only fair we help a tad with the housekeeping.]”

With a violet and indigo form leaning on oppositional sides of him, Soul stared out into the approaching dawn.

Their tall, birch home towered into the cold sky; a tiny island among a limitless sea.

Just little visitors in the vastness of this world. Imagine that: These little parasites are just a glimpse into the possibility of what can and can't happen.

Soul remembers the good old days, just when the two were little kids; they were no ordinary children, of course, but it brought a certain charm.

He’d just found refuge from a dark family life, and out split from him were two small souls; one hued purple, the other hued blue.

They had no mouths, but had a lot to say alright; those things sure loved to whimper and whine.

He wasn't even sure if they realised they got all their food from Soul eating overtime; he’d have to grab a lot more bites than usual to sustain them, but it was worth it for their elated faces.

“Oh!” Cameron said, a happy gaze settled on the little page scrunched between two small paws. “What is this?”

“…!” The idfant whined.

“Is it a dragon…?” He cocked his head, an awkward smile lapping at his lips.

The idfant only stared back.

“Or is it… a crocodile?”

Its face lightened.

“A saltwater croc? The one you see on those little shows you like?”

Suddenly, it was bouncing and whimpering with ecstasy.

“Oh, you did such a good job!” It didn't really. He could barely tell what was its mouth and what was its claws.

But everyone starts somewhere, don't they?

As the two idiots melted into his arms, Soul’s eyes settled on a peaceful, sleepy expression.

He didn't expect to become symbiotic in his lifetime, no-less with these two. But he’s sure happy that he got to be the one selected to be a Host.

“What are you building there, little tuna fish?” Cameron smiled, knees bent beside the indigo idfant.

“…” He removed his hand’s position on a brick, then positioning them on a stack of Legos, bundling the flimsy blocks into his palms and propping them to meet Cameron’s eyes.

“Oh!” Cameron’s hands made a rapid series of collisions. “You did that all by yourself?”

“!” Mind nodded hastily, struggling to hold his excitement within his little body.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cameron grinned, giving his hair a firm, delightful ruffle. “I could personally never get into Legos… I never quite had the attention span. But I assume for someone like you, who loves all things logical and analytical, building things that require such attention-to-detail and intricate focus must be very relaxing, yeah?”

From the looks of it, Mind just ignored everything he said.

“Heh… too many big words?”

He seemed to have appreciated the love in his Host’s voice nonetheless.

“I love you. I’ll be sure to buy you lots of Legos this Easter, alright?”

The reminiscing that poured out of him rocked to a sudden standstill as Soul felt his two ids form strokes of heavy breaths at his sides, and Soul made a little smirk.

“{Tired?}”

“(Mmm…)”

“[Kkkkkh…]”

“{That’s what I thought.}”

As a second set of arms poked from Soul’s abdomen, the two ids were collected into his grasp, and he descended the upwards-leading staircase, leading-downwards into the cosy confines of his own room.

Albeit definitely foul-smelling, kicking past the empty energy drinks that made a metal ruckus the Host then lent the two the safety of being bundled up within a large comforter.

Tucked between thick sheets, Heart sunk into Mind’s chest and limbs, the latter burying his chin onto the former’s head.

“{Before you two collapse, would you like one last story?}” Soul smiled, seated beside the cot.

“(Mm…)”

“[Yes…]”

“{Next time I'd like a ‘please’, but okay. I’ll tell you my favourite one: }”

A finger bitten by a worn fingerless glove twirled and pirouetted through the two parasites’ hair, and a simple hum drew from him.

“{Once upon a time, there was a little human child. You may know him as Cameron: Or me. He was very handsome, and very good at everything, as you may remember from yours truly. But he was very sad… and very lonely. He wasn't happy with his life. He was hurt by everyone around him. Everyone wanted to either leave or hurt him…}

“{But he didn't lose hope. He was still kind, and still decided to love. He hung on until the very end, which hasn't come yet in the story. But even then… things could still be rough. It didn't feel worth it sometimes.}

“{And one day, he felt something inside of himself. Just this crazy, burning feeling, that he had to get out of there. So he did! He went to the local beach, and walked across the sea. And he walked, and walked, and walked… until he found a new home waiting for him. And out he released two little baby ids, whom would have made all that pain worth it.}”

Heart and Mind had buried themselves into one another, their breathing hushed and heavy.

“{Alright, that's the abridged version. Go to sleep, you two. We’ll have lots of time to relax tomorrow.}” Soul cooed, crawling into his cot among the two and enveloping them to his body, his warmth seeping into them.

The lights fell to a silent darkness.

Everything was okay in the world, maybe just this once.

[blackkatmagic]

For a prompt, if you're inclined - how do you feel about Mace/Cody and a relaxing cup of the beverage of their choice, safe and secure in the knowledge that the trooper and/or padawan shenanigans are somebody else's problem for once?

"I think this may technically be a form of torture," Cody observes, though it's not nearly pressing enough to get him to so much as shift his head where it's firmly positioned in Mace's lap.

Mace hums, clearly uninterested in debating the finer points of galactic sentient rights acts. He offers Cody a berry, ignoring the shouts from outside and the sound of thundering footsteps that pass.

Obligingly, Cody opens his mouth, lets Mace slip the berry between his lips, and maybe catches long, elegant fingers with the edge of his teeth. Purely on accident, of course. It makes Mace's breath catch, too, which is highly satisfying.

"More tea?" Mace asks, just as a loud, ringing thud shakes the whole hallway. Someone starts pounding on the door to the Council chambers, but Mace just pours the tea like he can't hear a thing. It's truly impressive, and Cody fights not to grin.

"Sure," he says agreeably. "You think all the Masters found places to hide? Or are we going to have to stage some rescue operations?"

Mace snorts, taking a sip and then offering the cup to Cody. "If they didn't manage to hide from clones and initiates, they deserve to have oversight of the whole thing," he says dismissively. Cody feels about the same where his officers are concerned, and he hums, stealing the cup from Mace's fingers to take a sip of his own.

"You're an evil genius," he tells Mace. "Our battalions are never going to forgive you."

Mace doesn't look overly perturbed by this announcement. "Wasn't Boil just telling everyone in earshot that it must be so nice and relaxing to be a Jedi Master or a commander? Now he gets to experience it firsthand."

Given that Cody caught Stak saying just about the same thing, he's definitely not about to argue. Just hums, takes another berry from Mace's fingers, and stretches a little, obscenely comfortable. They have a solid twelve hours before they have to rescue the clones from the padawans and initiates they're minding, and he plans to enjoy every minute of it.

[vintage-robots]

The ever so elusive Pepsi Prime or Pepsi Convoy has but one mission—to bring cool, refreshing carbonated beverages to the thirsty sentients across the galaxy. With his powerful CO2 soda gun, fueled by the massive Bottle Station, even the mightiest of thirsts shall be quenched!

[writing-with-gremworm]

"If I had the chance, I would still choose you." (Part 1)

--

The first time I died was at the World's End. The abyssal tendrils encroached from a sinister center and consumed all that remained, both the living and the non-sentient. I don't know if you cried for me, but I thought you called my name.

The second time I died was at the hands of the man who killed our father. He was supposed to be my real father, but even if blood dictates he is, I have no love for him.

The third time I died, I was poisoned in your tavern. Everything seemed fine until blood, not wine, flowed from my lips, pouring onto the countertop below. My hearing faded before my vision, accented with a constant ring, your face contorted with despair.

I lived countless times, though this is the first time I remembered such deaths. Is there a reason for this? I couldn't tell you. I want to find the truth. Though, I want to make the amends I never made first.

"Diluc, we need to talk," I say, looking up from the beverage I hadn't finished.

"... Kaeya, I already told you to finish that drink and go. I've tolerated you for this long since there was another stubborn customer, but you have to go." Diluc sighs in annoyance, cleaning the glass in his hands before glaring at me.

"Normally I would say something playful and leave, but I have something to tell you before my trip to Sumeru." I begin, looking at Diluc seriously.

"If this is some new way to bother me, then drop it. I see no point in dawdling like this." Diluc scoffs, pulling the rag he was washing the glass with taut in his hands.

"Diluc, just hear me out. I won't bring this up again."

"... I ... ask you to leave." I bite my lip and sigh, this was getting nowhere.

"I'm sorry, for lying to you. Don't forgive me. I know you won't anyway. That's it." I smile sadly. Truthfully, I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to tell him everything I was thinking and feeling, I wanted to tell him I would always consider him my true family. I knew that even if I told him nothing would change, but there was some vain hope in me, "I'll be off then. Make sure not to be so lax with your hours next time, I might really keep you up for the whole night drinking." I add playfully, hoping to lighten the mood.

I turn around. I don't want to see what kind of expression Diluc is making. I can already guess it. I leave quietly after that and head off to collect the last of my things for my journey tomorrow. As I look around my quarters I take note of the papers on my desk. I know it's meaningless, but I decided to write a letter to Diluc anyway.

--

"He's gone." I sigh, looking at the half-full glass Kaeya left behind. This was unusual for him, even on his worst days, he tended to choke down the stuff with reckless abandon.

"Did he mean it? ... He really doesn't get it, does he?" I mutter, shaking my head and cleaning up the rest of the Angel's Share after locking the doors. I had come to terms with the fact that Kaeya had lied to me long ago. It wasn't exactly hard to piece together after doing my own research into why Crepus died. There were other lies, understandable lies. It was never the falsehoods that made me angry with him.

"... But why is he apologizing now? Usually, he'd speak his mind anyway... No, no I can't ask him. I know what kind of position he's in, he'll come back. ... Won't he?" I felt uncertain. I knew Kaeya would usually bring up anything he truly wanted to say again, but this time felt different. This time, felt serious.

"He said he's leaving for Sumeru. I'll talk to him when he gets back." I mutter to myself.

--

"Ah, Aether. Can I ask you for a favor?" I smile politely and place a hand on my chin.

"A favor? I can do that, but what do you want?"

"You see, Diluc and I had a disagreement, so I was hoping you'd be willing to give this to him in my stead." I hold out the gift I had prepared for Diluc. I wanted to change it up a little, so this time I opted to give him something practical.

"You should give it to him yourself. You still have that chance. If you had an argument that was bad enough you don't want to talk, that's all the more reason to." Ah, right. Aether doesn't have that choice.

"I-I see. Then you win. I'll give it to him tomorrow night." I don't particularly wish to rub more salt on Aether's wound.

The next night, I head to the Dawn Winery on my own. In other timelines, I had brought Aether, and he had picked grapes. I felt it was necessary to go alone this time.

"Haiz, it's not like he'll even want to converse with me."

"It's not like who will want to converse with you?" Diluc says, walking over to me with a complicated expression.

"Ah, Diluc. Don't tell me you missed me?"

"What is this?" Diluc pulls out the letter I had written. I blinked in surprise, I had never sent the letter, so I was a little perplexed as to how he had gotten it.

"Don't tell me you snuck into my room. You knew I'd be home in a few weeks." I tease.

"Think what you like, what matters now is what you wrote here. Should I read it to you? Or do I need to ask again? What is this?" Diluc's expression is more serious than normal. I wince a bit. I hadn't realized he'd take it so poorly. Though, perhaps some part of me did, since I had opted to write it down rather than tell him after our previous encounter.

"Ah, well you see." I start, thinking over where to begin, "I guess I should start with the first part, right?"

"Just explain."

"Right. Okay. You've known for a while who I was, my origin as a Khaenri'an. You may have been less familiar with my bloodline. As nobility yourself, I suppose it may have occurred to you that it could tie into how easily I adapted to the etiquette of high society despite our messing about." I look at Diluc carefully, measuring his gaze as he taps his arm impatiently, "As for the start of the letter, it's true that I lied about being our father's ... Your father's murderer. I felt responsible for it at the time."

"I knew it wasn't you. I've done some research into the truth of Crepus's death. Move on, I'm listening." Diluc's tone is a bit terse, but considering the discussion, I get it.

"Then I suppose the part you were the most confused about was that I still wished to call you my brother despite it all?"

"No, the part that I want you to address is this; 'Diluc, I have known for a long time that you would never forgive me. After coming back this time, I knew I had to at least apologize. I value you, and because of that I need to be honest with you. Khaenri'ah is not a place I consider home, nor do I wish to go back. If I must leave Mondstadt, then I will be saddened, but I understand. I know that when my identity is revealed I will be cut out, but until then, I hope you will remain my brother.'"

"Ah, that. I don't think it truly needs to be explained."

"Why do you think this will change how people see you? Do you think any of us are narrowminded enough to think you're twisted because of something you didn't choose? Kaeya. Look at me. Do you think so little of me that you assume I would call for your exile? We all have secrets, we all have reasons for silence. You never meant to send this to me, did you? Or when you did, you were going to leave quietly after telling Jean the truth, right?"

"..."

"I know you, we grew up together. You weren't the kind of kid who liked lying. You were so bad at telling lies back then that we got caught stealing wine from the cellar. Do you remember that?"

"I-I do. But that-"

"You were a child, forced by an adult to play a role you never asked for. Stop and think, do you really believe I blame you for that?"

"But you've ..."

"Been angry with you? Of course I've been angry with you, you constantly hurt yourself to protect everyone's ideal image of you. Hell, I believed it too."

"..."

"Kaeya, I don't care if you're the prince of Khaenri'ah. I don't care if you still have attachments to those who abandoned you. I just hate seeing what you've become."

"... You ... think it's your fault ..."

"It IS my fault! I wasn't there for you."

"You were grieving."

"I was your brother."

"So? You believed I killed him, however brief that may have been, you didn't know."

"I should have known!"

"No, you couldn't have known. You were a kid who was just torn away from the only person he allowed to consider his family."

"And you were a kid who lied because you thought it would be less painful to be alone than to have a brother who belonged to another country."

"Diluc-"

"Shut up."

"..."

"Kaeya I care about you. If we're being honest, then I should tell you this too. Kaeya I never got close to you because I became the person you pretended to be."

"Diluc you-"

"I killed people, countless people, and I don't regret what I did."

"..."

"You may have pretended it was your fault, but I actively hunted the people responsible for killing Crepus, the ones who convinced him to become a part of the Fatui."

"He- was a part of the Fatui?"

"Don't you think it was a little strange how easily you were accepted into our family by him despite your distinctive pupils?"

"He was a kind man."

"He was a smart man, and he did love us, but that's not why you were accepted by him initially. Kaeya, I need you to understand that he wasn't a good person."

"Diluc you- you've been carrying this belief alone, haven't you. Is he a bad person? Or did he just do bad things?"

"He was a bad person. I suppose it runs in the family."

"You are NOT a bad person. You have a strong moral code and a sense of justice that is rare even among the best people. Your methods may not align with the knights, but you're not completely wrong."

"But I'm still a murderer Kaeya."

"And you're my brother. Isn't it my job to be understanding at times like this?"

"Not for murder."

"Well, maybe not for murder, but I don't think that you were wrong. Diluc, I still want to be your brother. Is that okay?"

"... Hah, after everything. Do you really want to be my brother? A brother to someone like me who is willing to kill for his ideals?"

"I'm willing to be your brother because it's you."

[mechanical-magician]

BOMB RUSH CYBERFUNK HEADCANONS: CYBERHEADS EDITION

(Just general headcanons about how cyberheads work)

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD

Headcanon Directory >>

> Cyberheads are only just now becoming common place, as the procedure/materials have become more affordable.

> Getting a cyberhead is generally only done as a last resort (ie: The Old Head who had brain tumors)

> A cyberhead that is PROPERLY dismounted from its body can control it for about a minute before there's issues. No head means no way to breathe, so it essentially works as long as the person can hold their breath

> Therefore, removing your head should only be done if absolutely necessary

> Red does not use this ability responsibly. He thinks the "what, no head?" joke is funny every time

> Each new group of cyberhead models become more efficient and compact, as well as moving certain things into better places

> Red's head model isn't as old as the Old Head's head, but it's not new by any stretch, hence why no one on the street has it.

> Specifically in Red's case, the 4 slits on the front of his face are for olfactory purposes (smells). He breathes through a system of vents that are on the underside of his head, around where his chin is (he doesn't like scarves because they make it harder to breathe. Later models were updated to move the breathing apparatus further up to avoid this problem)

> Cyberheads don't have a mouth, so they can't eat. They live off of a liquid diet, and as a result, smoothie/milkshake/other liquid specialty joints have exploded in popularity. Your regular fast food places also had to expand their options (McDonald's in this world ended up having a classaction lawsuit over their ice cream machines never working, as that left cyberheads with nothing of substance for them to drink. The results still haven't been figured out yet.)

> Other robotic body parts are still being developed, but are much more difficult to perfect, mostly owing to weight and pricing.

> As we learn in the game, a person's memories are transferred to the new head. The adjustment period is accordingly pretty long and rough.

> New cyberheads are prone to blackouts because of the system still adjusting with their body.

> Red being a sentient cyberhead with no human memories is a special case. He's the only straight up "robot".

> Cyberheads are waterproof! Well-- to fresh water. Salt water is VERY BAD for them, and can straight up kill them if the water manages to get to their memory core.

> Cyberheads are susceptible to overheating. All models have fans somewhere to expell heat and cool down, just like computers. Red's cooling fans are the two booster looking things on the back of his head!

> Moral of the story? Take care of your electronics

> Can Cyberheads get drunk? Not traditionally. If they drink an alcoholic beverage, they won't feel the drunk effects (however, they do still get alcohol in their blood, so they still need to drink responsibly). What has humanity always managed to do throughout history? Figure out how to get drunk. There's an underground market of things similar to batteries that can be inserted into a cyberhead to feel the drunken effects. Effects fade after a certain amount of time (basically the "battery" running out)

[drchucktingle]

do not trot gently into that good night

standing tall against the raging storm, sails tattered and hull shattered, the waters dark surface swallows more with every passing second. but the captain is not afraid, raising his voice against the wind he cries out as the icy water reaches his mouth 'LOVE IS REAL'

the water cover him, freezing cold and numb. he tries to cry out again but this time salty liquid fills his throat and he chokes. the chaos fades as he sinks into the black endless void. this is the end, the big sleep. suddenly a voice pulls him back

he opens his eyes to find an unfamiliar crew surrounding him. a sentient camera, a prehistoric mastodon, a tall beverage holder with no handles, a book with a smiling face. some can be trusted and others cant, but for now theyve saved his life, and the ship below them is sturdy

one of them reaches down and takes the captains hand, helping him up.‘welcome aboard the flotilla, youre lucky to be alive’. the captain laughs ‘no bud YOURE lucky to have me, now hoist up the sales and sound the alarms because ive got a story about pounding butts you gotta hear'

[power-handmaiden]

Day 36: Slammed Up The Butt By My Hot Coffee Boss

If I had a whole lot more money than I do (and of course, the blessing of the author) I would pay to have this story animated. I just love how this story describes the physical presence of the living coffee. His introduction really sells the reader on how imposing it would actually be to be confronted by a sentient man-sized mug of piping hot liquid.

The Tingleverse connection in this one gave me a lot to think about, because it refers to the events of "Shared by the Chocolate Milk Cowboys" but not in a straightforward way. The way the ending of "Shared by the Chocolate Milk Cowboys" is written lead me to believe that the protagonist was pressing the button rapidly without stopping at each layer of the timeline to live a gayer life. Has he actually been living out those progressively gayer lives and reincarnating into new timelines via the button? After assimilating into the coffee at the end of this one, did he eventually make it back to the button so he could continue his journey to the center of the Tingleverse? Or is this not the same man, but simply someone who went through a similar event involving some chocolate milk cowboys and the button, but ended his cycle of reincarnation here, having finally found the beverage he wants to be with forever? The protagonists of these stories do have different names, and this one is somehow still denying that he's gay even while he's chosen to go to a deeper layer of the Tingleverse 40 times, so maybe it's just a different guy and all my questions are for nothing... but it's still fun to think about.

[skyc47su]

Pembu Percolating with Pear beans

Pembu belongs to a race of sentient celestial space dragons, where they can harness and weave the very stars and the make of the universe. They carry a tiny dwarf star with them, but older and more powerful dragons can carry more! Pembu fell in love with how humans made brews and steeped concoctions out of beans and herbs. They became so fascinated of the concept, that it has become their hobby to experiment with different types of fruits, grains, seeds and anything they can find to turn into a hot beverage. The little dwarf star on their head makes a great place to put their percolator on! Watch out, some of these concoctions are poisonous which are otherwise harmless to Pembu. But, they would always make sure to serve humans what's not dangerous to them. ------------------ Pembu is a gift to Fig from a discord server I'm in, as a secret santa 2023 event where we would create OC designs out of a person's certain tastes.

I was honestly worried because I've made fanarts for so long, that I rarely create anything original ^^;

[squ1dd]

Hi guys! Since it won the poll here's my REAL first ever Pizza tower au! It's more of a fan project since they don't really look like their Pizza Tower counterparts but :3c

Let me introduce you to.........

Drum roll.....

...

..

.

PUREE PILLAR!!

I've waited so long to show this AU to you guys I'm so excited!!!!!

Puree Pillar goes along with the usual pizza tower lore, owner of a business gets threatened by a giant sentient piece of food that wants to blow up their building yada yada yada....

BUT‼️‼️

The main character ain't no ordinary peppino no siree

Instead, they're basically entirely different!! They look... Nothing alike probably.

Let me introduce you to the characters!!

•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•

Susie! (Peppino) : Susie is a not-so-young (he's old as shit) woman running a small beverage shop called Susie's Smoothies! (You will never guess what she sells. /j) Yeah, he has a smoking addiction she can't get rid of, but that doesn't stop her from kicking ass!!!!! (He is very depressed) AND on top of that!! She's a war veteran!! Crazy right!! She had a group of 3 other friends that had passed away during the war. Poor Susie can't catch a break... But on a lighter note, she rides a motorcycle! Woah!!

Next up we have..

Mia!! (Gustavo) : Mia is Susie's best friend and has been since they were wee little children! How adorable!! They've been with Susie through thick and thin, always helping each other out! (But Mia is not in fact, a war veteran like Susie.) She works with Susie and helps her run the shop. They care a lot about each other!! And her giant pet hedgehog Pebble!! :3c

(God this is getting long)

Berry! (The Noise) : Berry is a circus performer along with his girlfriend Drupe! Him and Susie are rivals, always getting into fights those two.. Berry is his stage name! What's his real name you say? I have no fucking clue

Drupe! (Noisette) : As stated before, Drupe is Berry's girlfriend! She runs her own little bakery somewhere in the pillar! (Or well, tower)

The Assailant. (The Vigilante) : He's a sentient glop of smoothie that anyone who dares to break the law must answer to! He's quite a fancy fella, but if you break a law.. Pray! Cause your ass MIGHT die!!! And he thinks he's a real human being! What a weirdo (/j)!!

DJ Apple! (Pepperman): DJ here is quite a cool guy! He makes sick beats that everyone enjoys! So much so they might break a hip from dancing too hard! Where did he get that chunk bit out of him? Why is his hand missing? ..... Who knows! But he still manages to make some good music!

Fake Susie! (Fake Peppino) : Whatever this thing is, it's creepy! How did it get in here! Why does she look so much like Susie? It's weird!! It's entirely made of smoothie, kinda like The Assilent! But why is she not as intelligent as him? Sometimes she can be found in vents! How the fuck did he get in there get him out

(I'm pretty sure you know what the purpose of the ingredients ((toppins)) are so I won't write about them)

Mr Trick! (Mr Stick) : Mr Trick here is a scammer!! Watch out!! He's very greedy, and would choose money over anything!

Nate! (Snick) : It's him!!

Orange Head... (Pizza Head) : He's the big bad of the pillar! The one who started it all! Boy I hate this guy! He knows... Strangely a lot about Susie... I wonder why!

Orange Face... (Pizza face) : He's a giant floating hunk of junk made by Orange Head! It's only that big so he can fit his fat ass inside!! Orange face chases Susie out of the levels once the timer reaches 0 so she can't get out! But Susie is usually too fast for him.

And last but not least...

Jerald! (Gerome) : He's the janitor/plumber of the pillar, the only one that has the key to special rooms!

GOD THAT WAS A LOT

anywaysss I hope you guys will enjoy this au as much as I do! Which is a lot!! This is basically my main au since I've been focusing on it a lot lately

But yeah!!! Holy shit!!! I can finally share this!!

[floofgryph]

Asmodeus/Maverick Sepúlveda

Species: Cambion

Birthday: January 1st

Age: 47

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Occupation:

Soldier of Demaryius’ army

Gunsmith

Trapper

Fisherman

Farmer

Bartender (formerly)

Snake milker (formerly)

War machine mechanic (formerly)

Feng Shui consultant (formerly)

Voice-over artist (formerly)

Bingo manager (temporarily)

Gross stunt tester (temporarily)

Rat-catcher (temporarily)

Janitor at a mediocre restaurant (temporarily)

Abilities:

Enhanced bodily capacity, strength, mobility, charisma, and combat

Supernatural durability

Inedia

Telekinesis

Telepathy

Zoolingualism

Soul absorption

Bodily reconfiguration

He can teleport to six different locations in one universe before moving onto the next

Hellfire, architecture, biological essence, fertility, desire, canine, serpent, and lion manipulation

Control mad rage, frenzy, and rabies in animals

Induce lust in all sentient beings, laziness, and vanity

Absolute knowledge of the stars, philosophy, mathematical sciences and handicrafts, and hidden treasures

Mastery over military strategies, agricultural techniques, hunting, fishing, seduction, explosives, firearms, gunsmithing, and the electric guitar

He has access to a secret treasure trove full of weapons

Turn himself and other people invisible

He can “birth” scavenger animals through his mouth

Bring plants back to life

He can transform into cervids and alter between his two forms

His blood can convert sinful people into low-ranking demons

Personality: He has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), bipolar disorder, and dyslexia, which are all relatively mild. The only psychopathic tendencies he shows are dishonesty, ruthlessness, a struggle with empathy, promiscuity, and a near inability of distinguishing between right and wrong. When it comes to those who abuse their power and influence, he can be quite exploitative of them, ensuring that they experience a fate worse than death. Despite having inedia, he possesses a ravenous appetite because he greatly fears the idea of dying from malnourishment or dehydration. As a result of his jadedness, he tends to get quite bored easily, so he needs a sufficient amount of entertaining stimulation. He shows a deep fondness for the company of women, striving to eagerly please them and attract their attention and admiration. He has an excessive sexual desire towards women that he finds to be beautiful both on the inside and outside. Despite his promiscuous nature, he treats women with high regard, viewing them as men’s perfect and irreplaceable equal.

He’s somewhat of a hedonist, spending a chunk of his free time in pursuit of self-indulgent pleasure. He has a raunchy sense of humour and can come off as a loudmouth, talking loudly in an unpleasant and stupid way. He lacks some worldly wisdom, which often plays into his credulousness and unchecked innocence of topics he doesn’t clearly understand. He’s clumsy when handling furniture and fragile items, and is irresponsibly playful, causing annoyances and trouble for fun. He’s capable of enduring physical and mental hardships without complaining and showing what he truly feels. He’s able to dive headfirst into danger without flinching, and can come off as impatient under certain circumstances. He lacks mindful attention and active, conscious knowledge on many things, especially if they’re noticeably complicated or are disinteresting. Luckily for him, he’s mentally bright, allowing him to quickly understand and learn unfamiliar topics. He’s eager to shed blood and immensely enjoys hurting and humiliating people who deserve to suffer. He’s extremely loyal and compassionate to people he deems as personally close to him, and can be a canny satirist.

Likes: Telling random facts about world history, kind and respectful women, making homemade alcoholic beverages with his grandfather, stargazing, treasure hunting, soapy baths, people combing his hair, pulling pranks, philosophical thinking, and tactical warfare

Dislikes: Cults, false ideologies, people who take religion or religious beliefs for granted, the extreme cold, blazing deserts, when his dogs don’t follow his orders, crucifixes, apocalyptic movies and literature, orgies, and the taste of blood

Equipment:

A traveller’s backpack

Small food rations

A canteen

A compass

A first aid kit

Night vision goggles

A walkie talkie

A old picture of him and his grandfather

An evil eye amulet (it used to belong to Percy, but he gave it to him as a gift)

A pack of cigars

A golden lighter that depicts a winged scarab with a fiery sun on top of its head

An electric guitar

A barricade shield that can block some stronger spiritual and physical attacks

A fixed Buck knife

A machete

A harpoon gun

A flamethrower

A small handful of grenades

A napalm rocket launcher

An Accuracy International AS50 Sniper Rifle

A Beretta 92

A Golden Eagle

A Benelli Supernova

A Black Aces Peacekeeper

Physical and outfit appearance: He’s a 7’ 4” (223.52 cm) mesomorph with a trapezoidal figure, a chiselled musculature, broad shoulders, and prominent thighs. His grey-tinted sienna skin is snaked with dark red-violet veins and blackish freckles can be seen on the face, neck, chest, and hands. He has sunburst olivine-tradewind eyes with rose gold pupils and outlining, and his canines are sharp. He has shoulder-length pink blonde hair in a lived-in lob with faint streaks of magenta and light purple. He has the Ars Goetia sigil of Asmodeus carved into his back, healed cuts on his forearms and outer thighs, and a glaring scar on the left side of his forehead. The palm of his hands are severely burned due to handling hellfire, and his claws are painted with metallic purple nail polish. He carved a slight grin into his face, so it’ll be easier to “birth” whatever scavenger animal is coming out of his mouth.

When in his demonic form, one of his legs is a grotesquely muscular rooster and the other one is a blackish-red dragon. He has a coiled tail of a sunbeam snake, sagging breasts, the fur of an Asiatic lion, and sapphire draconic wings. He possesses three heads: that of his original face with a fiery breath (front), an Indian peacock (right), a male Oberhasli (left), and a Charolais cow (back).

In his casual clothing, he wears pinkish-grey bib overalls and glossy black combat boots with purple gold spikes. He dons a brown mustard fleece poncho with vertical lines of pumpkin orange, seafoam, indigo, and rich raspberry. He wears a black sombrero with a silky red-violet ribbon, an orange rust T-shirt, and a flannel shirt of soft purple, hot pink, and saffron-yellow. Whenever he’s hunting, he dons blaze orange vest, waterproof olive-brown boots, a greenish-black T-shirt, and a light jacket and trousers in earth-tone camouflage patterns. Hanging from his neck is a silver dog tag with his grandfather’s name, Porfirio, and a gold-plated necklace of the Sacred Heart in red zircon. He often dons his most favourite and only pair of sunglasses, which is a purplish-black with orange-tinted lenses.

As a soldier, he dons a dull bronze-hued M40 field protective mask with purple-tinted eyepieces and glossy dark purple jump boots. His spike-covered pauldrons, snake-scaled vambraces, feathery gorget, and gauntlets with razor-sharp claws are a worn gold drenched in angelic blood. He has an olive-brown WWII paratrooper package with a cartridge belt, combat suspenders, a musette bag, a canteen cover, and first aid pouch. He wears military jump trousers of olive-brown, a 506th paratrooper helmet of metallic green-orange colouration, and a purplish-red US WWII M41 field jacket. Underneath his uniform, he has a reddish-black bulletproof vest that is also immune to weak spiritual and physical attacks.

Family: 

Astaroth (father)

Unnamed Mexican-American mother

Porfirio Sepúlveda (grandfather)

Daphne (grandmother)

Biography: His mother was impregnated by Astaroth, an ancient demon, and gave birth to him, being raised by a group of religious zealots. This New Mexico cult was called The Evanescent Ophidian and they vehemently worshipped Astaroth, viewing him as a legitimate god. Due to being the biological son of this “god”, the cultists deemed Maverick as the fated saviour of humanity and the embodiment of lust, naming him Asmodeus. He was forced to participate in blood rituals and sexual orgies that were all done in the name of their false god. He was treated as an object of desire and an incarnation of Astaroth’s will than a normal person with human dignity. The cult leader was referred to as The Serpent-Holder or Her Serpentine and had many husbands, but killed every single one of them out of disinterest or tried to challenge her worldview. She took particular interest in Maverick, viewing him as an asset to gain more followers and brainwash them into servitude. When he was a tween, she carved the sigil of Asmodeus on his back and told him that this will create a bond between the cult and the underworld. However, that was a lie as she only did it to sexually appease her sadistic desires and try to gain more attention from his father. She’s deeply jealous that Astaroth chose his mother rather than her because she felt as though it would validate her narcissism and need to cleanse humanity of their depravities.

His mother was the most sound-minded member of the cult, taking her parental responsibilities seriously and trying her best to nurture him. She wasn’t treated with the same respect as he and the other cultists received due to some nasty rumours that involved her, contributing to her inferiority complex and depression. She viewed Maverick as a form of false hope and an incarnation of the cult’s worst qualities and their cynical, patronising view on humanity. Despite these biases, her down-to-earth demeanour never faltered as he’s the only reason she’s still alive. She combed his hair and bathed him in soapy water on a daily basis, while providing him edible and drinkable sustenance. She also patched up any injuries he received and taught him many life lessons and random facts about history. However, the cult put heavy restrictions on the amount of food and water that was shared, and what knowledge was allowed to be shared. It made it difficult for his mother as she was often forced to starve and dehydrate herself in order to keep him alive and please the cult. She secretly got away with sharing “forbidden” knowledge, which revealed to him the amoral nature of the cult and their contradictory beliefs.

Once he became a young adult, his mother planned an escape plan and was able to notify her father through a payphone outside of the complex about the entire situation. Unfortunately, she was dying from malnourishment and one of the cultists caught wind of this escape plan. The Evanescent Ophidian would end up flaying her alive and nailing her to a cross, which is all done under The Serpent-Holder’s order. The Serpent-Holder knew this would be the end of her cult, but she didn’t want to give up a valuable asset and tried to force him to love her out of desperation. When he disobeyed her, she struck him on the side of his forehead with the back end of a hammer, which surprisingly didn’t kill him. Before she could hurt him even further, Sister Rosa and some of Demaryius’ troops raided the building. They killed all of the cultists and The Serpent-Holder tried to put up a fight, which gave Sister Rosa the chance to save Maverick. Sister Rosa brought him to his grandfather’s home somewhere in Vermont before she had to head back to Homeworld with Demaryius’ troops.

He was originally afraid and uncertain around his grandfather, Porfirio Sepúlveda, due to how most of the other adults treated him at the complex. Overtime, he warmed up to Porfirio as he went out of his way to treat his grandson with genuine tenderness and compassion. Porfirio would raise him, confidently teaching him about the bad side of religion and the history and art of war. He also taught him how to survive in the wilderness and important farming techniques. Porfirio would occasionally tell him stories about his late grandmother, Daphne, and how wonderful she was. Once in a while, Sister Rosa would check up on him, making sure that he’s doing okay as she understands how it was like to be raised in a cult. Later on in his adult years, he went through numerous jobs and relationships to varying degrees of success and enjoyment. With the help of Porfirio and Sister Rosa, he would eventually be accepted into Demaryius’ army. He joined his army because he believes that humanity deserves to be given a second chance and Porfirio sparked his interest in warfare and camaraderie.

Fun facts:

Porfirio and, by extension, Demaryius renamed Asmodues to Maverick Sepúlveda in order to help him move on from the atrocities that the cult put him through.

Porfirio was a war veteran and his hearing isn’t the greatest

Maverick and Porfirio are followers of Demaryius

Despite not being an official child of Demaryius, he considers him as one of his own

Whenever a rose has withered away or has been destroyed, Demaryius occasionally asks him to bring it back to life.

He sees Demaryius as the true saviour of humanity with a compassionate heart and a willingness to protect his children. He also views him as a tragic, melancholic, and overworked individual who should be more careful with handling his mental health. He’s happy to know that Demaryius has found love in the form of Maku, seeing him as a perfect counterpart to the magnificent, sorrowful god.

He aids in teaching the older children of Demaryius how to wield guns and explosives, and to grow their own food.

Sister Rosa and Porfirio are the two main people who sparked his interest in weapons

He likes to take a smoke break with Sister Rosa once in a blue moon

He views Sister Rosa as a hard-working, trustworthy sister figure with a great deal of independence and passion in her work. He greatly empathises with her struggles due to their formal connections with cults and how they were abused by them.

Whenever Maverick does anything stupid like say something inappropriate around the younger children or break an item that belongs to Demaryius by accident, he and Sister Rosa start bickering with one another like siblings.

He sees Koi as a pretty cool person, admiring how she’s able to keep up a more happy-go-lucky outlook on life.

He really likes her mischievous nature, so he would occasionally team up with Koi to pull goofy pranks on the older children of Demaryius.

He’s not very familiar with Kianna as he rarely sees her and interacts with her, but he feels a sense of uneasiness around her. He respectfully understands that she has trust issues with men and her childhood was rough. So, he tries to stay away from her because he deeply fears that one wrong word or action near her or directed at her would lead him to serious trouble.

He has no genitals, which technically makes him sexless

He has a habit of hoarding guns, explosives, bear traps, fishnets, and hunting knives

He performs Feng Shui on a regular basis in order to calm down his nerves

His favourite entertainment consist of slasher films, Lovecraftian horror comics, videos from the Dark Web, televised news, dance parties, karaoke nights, heavy metal rock band concerts, and serial killer documentaries.

He drools a lot whenever he’s smiling like a madman

He hates it when people refer to him by his old name

He owns eight dogs: Nebrophonos (Estrela Mountain Dog), Ichnobatus (Pyrenean Mastiff), Therodanapis (Akita), Oxyrhoe (Swedish Vallhund), Argiodus (Blue Lacy), Melanchaetes (Majorca Shepherd Dog), Oresitrophos (Czechoslovakian Wolfdog), and Amarynthus (Indian pariah dog).

He enjoys drinking craft beers, ponche navideño, sparkling rhubarb cocktails, frozen margaritas, and goat milk

He likes to eat ground beef stroganoff with pizza bagels, cooked turkey, and enchiladas

He often flirts with Miss Katherine despite her being aromantic asexual and believing that he’s being super nice.

He views Percy as his closest friend

He often gets into random arguments with Svyatopolk over the smallest of things

One time, he jokingly flirted with Svyatopolk because he was feeling particularly mischievous that day and needed something fun to do. After Koi told Svyatopolk that Maverick is not interested in men and he was playing him for a fool, a massive fight broke out between the two.

Despite being secretly afraid of Rhodopis, he likes to tease them about their height and occasional snarky attitude.

He hates it when Rhodopis teases him about lacking proper genitals

Demaryius, Sister Rosa, Koi, and Maku belong to @nunezs-stuff

Miss Katherine belongs to @vanillafalvoredcoffee

[insanepoll]

Blaseball propaganda: lemme list off a couple of characters real quick.

Peanutiel Duffy: normal guy that got transformed into a peanut shaped multi-winged divinity that worshipped the god of peanuts. This god of peanuts trapped players in shells so they couldn't play, but it did prevent them from getting blown up, so. Points ig. Peanut god got literally eaten by an eldritch squid that chills out where all the dead players go. This leaves Peanutiel without a purpose and yet. He must live on. Name was originally Daniel.

Parker Macmillan: normal guy that was so good at the sport that his mom, the god of capitalism, got him booted from his own team so she could make more money due to an impromptu curse on betting, then ended up moving from team to team killing everybody before being locked into a bubble. He breaks out of the bubble and blows up yet another league before being put back. His mom makes clones of him intern as commisioners and kills them in various ways before he's released from the bubble so she can make more money. He then kills a team, and his clone that capitalism mom didn't get around to killing helps save everyone from being destroyed in a black hole by uhhh *checks notes* using a sentient microphone haunted by the spirit of a kid that got split apart by dimensional shenanigans to collectively lead the teams to break down and melt their mom (the god of capitalism). While his clone is doing this he miraculously lands on a team he can't blow up and gets stuck there. After everyone falls out of the black hole he is no longer Extremely Good at the game (literally his whole thing besides blowing people up), and kinda sucks now actually.

Bonus note: His clone found out he was a clone in the middle of the game where the og was being let out of the bubble wrap and is extremely not normal about it. Both of em are freaks, let's be real.

The Monitor (a.k.a: Binky, Cool Dude, That Thing): Eldritch giant squid that isn't technically a god, ate a peanut god because they like "eggs", and was assigned many many jobs by capitalism god such as: Food and Beverage Director, Tour Guide, Guardian of The Hall of Dead Player Souls, and uh. Gift Shop Manager. All of which they quit once Parker IIIII (yes there were FOUR clones) led the whole microphone revolution thing. Which led to all of the dead players and teams being let out. Anyways we love Binky <3

there's a lot going on here lmao