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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

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Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

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we-dragons · 3 years

Text

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 7 Damian x reader

"Ira! I need my emergency kit!" Molly is pulling at my hair with a brush, I grimace at my reflection, she had put pearls and violet gems in my hair. Seeing as it already wasn't long bearly pushing past my ears, even though there aren't many of them in there it ways down in some places. I had already allowed her to put me in a ball gown, which I'm sure costs much more than my apartment building. It reminds me of peacock feathers, purples, greens, blues fill the cloth they blend seamlessly dark purple at the top and ending with blue at the bottom. I look at the matching marbled shoes and guilt climbs through me.

"Molly I don't need makeup, I'm already in a peacock dress, and there are gems in my hair. Besides the mascara is enough I don't want to spend an hour rubbing anything else off." Molly gasps, a hand gripping at her heart.

"Why-how could you say such a thing!" Ira hands Molly her phone, she screams. "We're going to be late! Ira put the bag back!" I'm yanked from my chair and raced down the hall within minutes I'm thrown into a limo with Molly's parents. Molly jumps in starting to yell at the driver shocking her parents who kept telling her to calm down. It doesn't take long to get to Wayne Manor, the courtyard is crowded filled with flashing lights from cameras reporters, and newscasts. They surrounded every inch with an exception of a semi-circle right at the front of the building where the car pulled up. Once more I'm pulled roughly out of the vehicle by molly, I nearly trip going up the stairs.

"Molly dear, we need to go in together!" My friend's mother pants from behind her husband seems to be in a similar position as me. Like mother like daughter.

I pull my arm away from Molly gently and smooth out my peacock dress, I sigh internally finding relief that I had personally told Molly to make the dress so it covered without it being tight. If I didn't then I would be pulling up the fabric like Molly who went not so modest. Not only had she blinged out she full-on black and high heels that pushed out her height. She looked good, and she made her parents match. When her mother finally catches up she puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

What happens after the incident leaves me at a table sitting behind a card with my name on it. Molly was seated somewhere else because I had used my own invitation instead of being a plus one. My eyes cast over the room soaking in again the decor of the newly decorated main floor. My energy seems to drain while I watch the people chat dance and laugh. No one was seated at my table and I was slightly relieved but I still felt odd. I had gone to parties with my mom in the past, ones that were held in her honor about her findings. I feel myself relishing in those memories I had looking back at the times she would pull a silly face at me while I was bored at said parties, or told a joke in some of her speeches. My mother was the expert in The Islamic Golden Era, despite not being a Muslim herself. She prided herself on giving credit to those who deserved more but had their work stolen by Europeans. But then, when she went on that Egypt and Greece dig she had found something that unnerved her. I knew what it was, and I wish I hadn't either. My happy thoughts turn sour, and I can feel myself grimace. I am tired...so tired.

"You made it, It's good to see you here." my head whips around falling on emerald eyes.

"Yeah, I had already told Molly that she could take me to the next party she goes to. However, I didn't know that if you came with an invite and not a plus one that you had to sit at a separate table." He snorts and sits down to my right.

"You were originally sat by her but father assumed I needed a friend," He shows me a card with his name on it. "so he changed Grayson out for you."

"Do you not have friends?"

"None close by."

"When have I accepted you as a friend?" He smiles

"That is a good question, but the same goes for me, you more someone I tolerate."

"Same here, Besides your a bad influence."

"tsk,...touche." his gaze looks me up and down and I have the sudden urge to say 'eyes up here'.

"You look tired, would you like to go to the library?"

"Usually libraries and tired people don't mix."

"How about a tour then, we have several artifacts my father has purchased that you might find interesting." He pushes harder.

"You want an excuse to leave, don't you? I thought my main purpose for being here was to talk to Mr.Wayne, not venture into the mansion." He sighs with his own body, visibly exaggerating the movements.

"My father is deeply preoccupied already in another engagement, he won't even be here for hours. Would you prefer to stay here doing nothing or would you like to leave?" He sounds rather annoyed while looking off to his left and scowling more. I follow my eyes to a group of three who I recognize from the cafe, all of them are pointing and smirking. I being to feel more drained at the thought of them coming here and stand. "Your home, where to first?" He shoots up, grabbing my hand dragging me through the dense crowd of people.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Amazing, this would date back to the early years of feudal Japan, this is Greek! Oh! There's a Khopesh and a Canaan Sickel sword on this wall!"

Damian scoffs sounding more like a laugh than a mocking tone. "You can tell the difference." I give him a look, feeling offended.

"Of course I can, you mostly can tell by the markings on the blade." I turn my head back to the wall slowly pointing to the distinguishable pieces of evidence. "This one is older Hebrew, and here you can see small hieroglyphics depicting the sun. Plus the metals on each blade are very different." I tilt my head back to him, his face stays indifferent. "You knew that already didn't you?" He nods and walks again.

"You must really like history, seems like you could talk about it none stop." He calls back.

"Did you forget who my mother was?"

"I thought she specialized in the Islamic golden era."

"It didn't mean she didn't know the history of other peoples. My mother developed research of anything she could get her hands on." I pause for a minute. "What about you, where did you learn."

"I was taught by some of the best in the world, my mother made sure of it."

"I see." We talk more while examining the objects displayed, I had fun just listening to him explain how his father got some of them. Though the collection wasn't huge it still made me a bit happy to see the objects. My phone buzzes, and I quickly take it out of my pocket.

Molly: Hey where are you we need to get going!

Molly: Dad got too drunk and now he's crying about the world.

Molly: We will be outside, Be there.

"Sorry, I have to get going, I'll see you at school later!" I run through the hall and snag as many macarons as I can on the way out. Molly waves from the car opening the door so I slide in faster.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Sorcerer found. Name: Doctor Fate, Subject: host"

"Anyone else?"

"Database shows,... John Constantine, and Zatanna. All other information is unavailable."

"Gather what they have on the crows send probes if you must."

"Proceeding."

Nightmare stands by the window waiting for his queue. I pull a scale out from the box and open the window. I hand him the scale and he chews effectively destroying the small miracle. "Remember stay out of sight if someone spots you wipe it from their memory and if you see a crow take the fight to the in-between and go for the kill. You have a little bit of my power with you only use it when needed." He purrs, rubbing his head on my hand, then jumps. He vanishes. I sigh putting the device in the box marked with an X just in case and push it under my bed. I head out into my living room putting some things away and cleaning here and there. Proud of my work I turn on the TV and sprawl on my sofa with a bowl of popcorn. Reruns of Highlander play on one of my favorite channels, I smile at my luck and sing to the theme song.

*Thunk thunk thunk*

I jump at the sound, I hear the noise again and follow it to my kitchen bat in hand. I flip on the light and smack my face, a very wet robin scowls at me through the glass. Only then did I notice the rain, and I pray that Nightmare is staying safe. I open the door and let him in, he mutters a thank you while walking in dipping water on my floor.

"Not to be rude, but is there something you need?" He ignores me and continues dragging water on the floor to the living room.

"Robin?" I catch up to him, he pulls something out from his ear and stuffs it in his pocket.

"I would like to stay here for a little while"

"How long is a little while, will I need to pull out the bed in the couch?" He gives me a look.

"There's a bed in your couch?"

"Sometimes I want to watch TV while I do my homework, laying down here makes it easier." I go to the bathroom to pull out some towels.

"Where was this when I was heavily injured?"

"I'm sorry, but the fact that you were bleeding was more concerning. I also put new sheets on the bed and you broke a perfectly good window. There is still blood on my cushions, and you wanted me to place you on the bed?" grabbing the biggest fluffiest towel in the bunch walking back out to the living room.

"You still on about that?"

"It was expensive!" I hold out the towel, he takes it and places his yellow cape in my hand. I frown but head to the coat rack hanging the heavy fabric on the highest rung. I feel short noticing its length, I turn back to Robin who's sat down on the couch the large towel engulfing him completely minus his hair. The black strands stuck oddly to his face and drooped sadly, I almost laugh because he looks like a sad cat. Like Nightmare whenever I give him a bath, I think I have a picture of that somewhere. "Did you want something to drink or eat?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you offer something?"

"It's a hospitality thing I got living in Minnesota, it's just being nice. Besides, you work to protect people, don't you? It only makes sense that I offer you something, I doubt you get paid to do your job. I bet you have countless scars from just doing so, I can do my part and help you feel comfortable. Call it a form of respect."

"Tsk."

I stroll into the kitchen, "Well, I suppose I could give some soda, tea, or water after all you left plenty on the floor."

"What happened to respect?"

"Well, I have feelings to sir! Tossing my words aside like that, I shouldn't even feed you." I poke my head back out, I smile at his scowl while he in turn glares at me. "Now for once, I am out of tea but I have several cans of cherry coke and some popcorn and macarons from a party I went to earlier. How about that?"

"That's fine." I hum grabbing what I needed and plopped back down in my seat handing him the coke. I place the brightly colored macarons and some chips I found between us along with the popcorn. I let myself get absorbed into the Highlander again just as MacLeod beheads another immortal and gains his Quickening.

"What is this?" My Jaw drops while I look at him concerned.

"Just how uncultured are you." His face flushes and his face twists he opens his mouth but i stop him. "Say no more, I will be right back." I come out with my computer and pull up VUDU opening season one of the show. "Sit back buckaroo, now your in for the long haul. Now right now all you need to know is 'There can only be one." His face contorts in confusion, but gives in and moves closer.

"I'm not going to get in trouble with Batman am I." He smirks.

"Most likely."

"Dammit."

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Text

First off, before everyone comes after my butt with their "No Fun Allowed" and "Cringe" signs, this is in no way something to be taken as gospel or insightful. It's not a prophetic enforcement of canon. It's literally a theory done for fun, and to try to piece the Bendy Crack up Comics into the general and messy lore of the BatIM franchise.

Most of you get this and don't need a big wordy warning about fanon interpretation, but a lot of peculiar people tend to show up in my ask box hoping to start a fuss over my headcanons and AU ideas, so I thought to be nice and leave a polite and diplomatic "Kindly Fuck Off" sign at the door for them.

With that said, there will be mild spoilers, carry on of your own volition, down below under the cut that will definitely show up because Tumblr mobile is a functional app that's never given me trouble!!!

---

[[MORE]]

The Bendy Franchise has an established issue with cohesion in its lore. We all know what I'm talking about, we all have reservations about canonical character discrepancies (game vs novel vs guidebook) and we all have been racking our brains with a few holes in the timeline, as well as how BatDR (which is neither prequel nor sequel) will fit into this, since it's connected to BatDS and that's an established prequel to BatIM.

Granted I myself am missing a lot of pieces, having to scrounge around for info since I can't really get any of the reading material myself and rely heavily on @british-hero (who owns the novel plus got her copy of the comics yesterday), a very incomplete wikie, and analysis and theories from SuperHorrorBro's Bendy videos.

Heck, I also rely on a lot of gameplay footage, because BatIM has a bit of subtle storytelling through visual design of its levels, and hints of how certain characters work through a few game mechanics.

Through this mishmash of collecting puzzle pieces for the greater picture I even have a few notes on my phone to piece together certain events in established dates, something which comes very in handy for this theory since it talks about two particular characters, the Projectionist and Brute Boris (and I guess Twisted Alice to some extent but it's more of a note on some interesting thoughts I have of her).

Without further ado, here's what this theory is all about: Why did Norman become the Projectionist, and why did Twisted Alice turn Buddy Boris into Brute Boris?

If you think about it, there's only two creatures in the studio that really seem out of place in the world of BatIM, and that's Prophet Sammy and the Projectionist. Neither are inherently similar to any of the cartoon characters, nor are they considered to be Lost Ones. They're certainly not Searchers, but while we know Sammy is unique because his method of transformation was different, we never got an explanation for Norman's. It could be that it's a process similar to BatDR's new enemy type that's larger and seems to have bits and bobs stuck to it, but then those big guys seem like the equivalent to Swollen Searchers for the Lost Ones. The Projectionist doesn't really fit the puzzle.

Or at least he didn't.

With the introduction of the Crack up Comics collection, we get three new characters that were definitely designed in the same manner that the Butcher Gang was. Beginning with a corrupt monster forms and then giving way to perfect and pristine rubberhose toon forms.

I'm talking about Miss Twisted, the Brute, and Cameraman.

The villainous trio from the Souper Boris comic strip.

To us it's obvious the artists created them in parallel to Twisted Alice, Brute Boris and the Projectionist, but to the actual canon this actually has a bit of an impact on the Projectionist's existence.

Why, you ask? Because those characters were introduced between 1936 and 1940.

Bendy Crack up Comics table of contents, showcasing the publishing dates of the strips.

For anyone who doesn't know (either from not paying attention to the Joey Drew Studios channel audio logs, or from not owning the books) the Ink Machine wasn't conceptualized or installed until 1942/1943. Putting that into perspective, the only other thing that happened in Joey Drew Studios in 1940, was the conceptualization of Bendyland (which is likely the origin of the idea for the Ink Machine itself).

This means that Cameraman existed well before the Projectionist ever came to be, and that made me think about another thing: The Ink's apparent sentience.

I'll be frank, the Ink is very hard nut to crack. I consider it a form of alchemized entity, others consider it pure black magic, and I'm pretty sure Joey Drew himself had no idea what he was dealing with when he began using it. The fact of the matter is that the Ink is alive and that it has its own agenda. One that coincides with Joey's, out of mutual interest.

In the novels it seems to want to be free, but it can't exactly do that as a formless liquid, so it tries to body-snatch people (ex: Sammy and Buddy's grandpa).

When Joey tries to use it to give life to Bendy through nothing more than using the Ink and a template (likely a character model sheet) the Ink tries to follow the model but immediately becomes a distorted humanoid version of it (which honestly rings so many fucking alarm bells on its own). Things… Escalate there on out, with Joey trying to perfect the method and only managing to succeed through Daniel Lewek (and many other nameless Boris Clones), Allison Pendle and Thomas Connor.

An important thing to take from this, however, is that by trying to perfect this method Joey not only taught the Ink to reshape things into viable referenced material, but that he had to have lost control of just how many souls were being pumped through the Ink Machine for him to monitor and keep up.

Sammy started killing people when he completely turned, and it didn't seem to take long for him to cut down people in likely both the music and art departments. At this point he had no self-restraint and was completely wrapped around inky fingers and Joey's lies.

Norman is one such potential victim, and Dot and Buddy even passed by his ink-wrapped body while fleeing.

Now, the thing about trying to follow a specific guide and not having the actual means to make it exactly the same thing, is an easy enough notion to get (as shows like "Nailed It", and years of trying to perfect visual style mimicry, have taught me).

The Ink likely had the template it needed (maybe a printed copy of Souper Boris that got thrown around in the chaos), the insight of what Norman's role in the studio was, the amount of mass it needed to consume and transform his dead body, but not exactly the right sort of… Centerpiece for it...

Cameraman using his lens to light up his path.

But what's a projector besides a bigger fancier camera? Both blink, both take film, same thing right? The ink doesn't see the difference and just stitches together this humanoid bootleg cameraman with the pieces it finds that are similar enough.

Mechanical blinky head? Check.

Strange round disc near the belly? There's a speaker. That's round! Check.

Film? There we go, a nice big round reel full of film in it, let's put it near the head, that's how it works right? Check.

Lastly, no Joey to actually direct this artistic recreation of a one-off character. The Ink did it all by itself while he was off getting his hand broken by a rightfully upset Buddy Boris.

If you look at it objectively it makes sense that being the projectionist tasked with not only recording and maintaining the projectors themselves, that the entity in the Ink would pick Cameraman as a template for Norman's transformed self.

It also makes sense that the Projectionist is so off-putting in the studio. He's almost perfect, but not quite because there just weren't the right materials. He's stuck in between Twisted Alice and the Butcher Gang clones as another failed recreation.

Moving on to the next question on why Twisted Alice turn Buddy Boris into Brute Boris, when she hadn't done the same to any of the other Boris Clones.

It's hard to say really, but I think it all comes down to who Twisted Alice really is. It's very likely that, as Susie Campbell, she would have knowledge of the comic strips. A few were most likely made into cartoon shorts even (which isn't an unusual assumption to make), and maybe Susie voiced a few background characters for said shorts.

Susie may have lost her role as Alice, but before Joey came to her with his proposition for the "special project" it's very likely that she remained in the studio, forced to do the voices of characters that weren't noteworthy or that she felt completely disconnected from (talking chairs and singing hens really don't become beloved fan-favourites) . Maybe if the Souper Boris story was made into a short, she might have voiced Miss Twisted (which honestly would be personally insulting considering she once had the role of the main heroine).

Point is, Susie knows her lore, and that translates to Twisted Alice's repertoire of insightful knowledge on the abominations lurking around the studio.

She never did turn other Boris clones into brutish lackeys because at the time she didn't need to. But it doesn't mean she hadn't considered it. Henry's disruptive behaviour is just what she needed to put that plan into motion.

There was already a "Cameraman" walking about, one that could easily rip apart anything it came across, so acquiring the means to recreate the "Brute" would have been benefiting from her point of view. The Projectionist doesn't take orders and can't be reasoned with, so if she could make something just as strong that took her orders she could, theoretically, be safe from most terrors in the studio. If that didn't work, she would still likely send others to their death by simply sending them down to Level 14, or maybe lure the Projectionist to them herself (just because he doesn't take orders doesn't mean she can't use him to achieve her end goals).

Miss Twisted, the Brute and Cameraman in their evil swamp lair.

But why Buddy Boris specifically? Why couldn't she have used any of the bodies laying around? Freshness most likely. Rigor mortis is probably still a thing, even for living cartoons. Easier to work a fresh dead body than a bunch of stiff wolves.

That's at least why I think Brute Boris is a thing. Susie's knowledge of most Bendy cartoon/comic strip characters, taking inspiration from the Projectionist's presence, and honestly a very twisted sense of humor and irony. In her quest to become a Perfect Alice, the heroine of the show, she ended up becoming just as antagonistic (although more sadistic) as Miss Twisted, a Bendy comic strip villainess.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #bendy crack up comics #bendy spoilers #spoilers #theory #headcanons #speculation #twisted alice #the projectionist #brute boris #long post

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umnvatra · 3 years

Text

About Zhongli's state in the game right now..

I just want to vent(?) and let out my thoughts about this whole ordeal as a Zhongli simp. Take note that if you are someone who has Zhongli or wants Zhongli/is planning to roll for Zhongli and wants to read this post, be prepared. Because as much as i hate to say it, this one is gonna be harsh. I wish it wasn't, but the truth really hurts and is also something that i struggled to accept sjdjdjchsk

Ngl i'm probably going to get hands thrown at me because of this post but i really, really want to vent about what Mihoyo did to his character. This week has been a roller coaster when it comes to Zhongli. From being super excited for his release, being elated getting him, to being absolutely devastated at all the comments and information that had come out prior to his release.

Basically, as a 5*, Zhongli is very underpowered and underwhelming. This is something i hadn't noticed myself because my Zhongli still didn't have a proper build and weapon yet, but when i did, i felt my own happiness plummet at the weight of the reality.

I don't care if he is strong as a support or a dps, and no i don't want him to necessarily be good at being dps. But this will include a lot of stuff regarding damage because he is a five star with nuking potential. It's also this way because he is THAT underpowered. Even having him be a very good support would be a blessing, but as it goes, he is not.

First it was the comments in Youtube videos, arguing with each other about how bad/good he was. Those comments made me question a lot of things. But i felt absolutely crushed when Jinx and Tuner uploaded their stream of their Zhongli and Xinyan testing.

For those that don't know, Jinx and Tuner run a youtube channel where they test many things in Genshin and provide objective information about them based on the results of their testing. When i saw how incredibly disappointed and frustrated they were with Zhongli, i felt really, really sad. After all, they provide maths. Not only are they one of the genshin youtubers that i trust but they also study characters closely and tell you if a particular 5 star character is worth pulling for or not. And you guessed it, they concluded that Zhongli was NOT worth pulling for as a five star character because he is so heavily underpowered.

Then there comes the arguements presented.

Majority of people thought that Zhongli was going to be more of a support character rather than dps, and i could see why, but ironically he has more potential as a phys carry. And this information comes from the testing that Jinx and Tuner made.

However

Xiangling is still a better physical carry than Zhongli especially when you take into account the abilities she can use while attacking. Zhongli's pillar has questionable energy recharge generation, something that i too had noticed. Every tick of the pillar does NOT guarantee an energy, and it drove me crazy. Meanwhile you have Xiangling who can easily bring out energy with Guoba if she so wanted.

And you need C6 Zhongli in order for him to heal like Noelle too by the way. And Noelle is a 4* that is guaranteed on your first time playing the game. 👁

Zhongli's shield is good for sure, but then you have Noelle who can shield + heal. In terms of stuff being done, Noelle's is better. Zhongli's shield is strong yes, but it can STILL disappear after one or two hits from enemies (at least from our experience in higher AR. I have no idea if the same applies to lower AR).

Now for his meteor. Yes, his meteor is good. Not only is it spammable, but it deals great damage as well. BUT THEN you have Ningguang who can be a better burst spam and possibly deal more damage than his could do (remember, Ning has a lot of jades that could each deal 1k if built properly). The duration for petrification is 3 seconds too, which, a lot of people argue isn't enough time (personally, i have no problem with this since i do not mind it much). And apparently his meteor got nerfed because it does not increase geo damage and phys damage as it used to in the beta testing with petrification.

How about his ability in being able to break shields by holding E? Truth be told, i expected that he was going to be able to explode all shields in one go, but it does not work for every one of them apparently. Shields by hilichurls do break with just one E hold. But the ones by Mitachurls don't. I also tried breaking the Geo Hypostasis's pillar using his E hold and it did not break immediately. This could differ however. 👁 I'm still not sure if its because i have not properly built him right for breaking them or not. And about Stonehide Lawachurls... it's the same as the Geo Hypostasis pillar. The geo shield does not break immediately.

I'm not saying all this because i am mad at Zhongli. Rather, i am disappointed at what Mihoyo did to him. I am absolutely happy to get Zhongli. He is the one character i had been looking forward to for MONTHS. I saved resources in advance for him and even held off on leveling up my current team so i could dump all said resources on him when i get him. I stayed as AR35 for many many weeks because i wanted to level him up properly before ascending my World Rank. I think he is super fun to use especially with his burst and i absolutely adore the animation and when he crosses his arms and does his 'osmanthus tea' monologue at the most random times with his lil hand gestures. Even just listening to his voice while being idle fills me with so much happiness. There is so much joy in getting him. Which is why i am very disappointed at Mihoyo for how they butchered his character.

After Jinx and Tuner made their video about the results of their testing with Zhongli, i was genuinely saddened but i gradually came to accept the truth. It sucks, it hurts, but it is the truth. Even they said that they wanted Zhongli to be a GOOD character, but he is just insanely underpowered right now. You can invest resources into him and make him work, but compared to 4* and the other 5*, it takes so much effort. To make him decent, you'd have to level his stuff up so much but that also applies to four star characters and they perform better than him. Husbando > meta yes, but i gotta say that it still stings when my underleveled Xiangling and Fischl could do a much better job being a dps and support respectively than him when he's many levels above them.

Which brings me to the main point of this post.

Why was Mihoyo scared of making him strong? OP? Why did they nerf him so much? He is a 5* character Mihoyo, make him be STRONG at something. It's why he's a five star. But no. They watered him down so much to the point where even four star characters can do his own job better than him. His pillar doesn't even deal damage upon being destroyed just like Geo MC's. The range of his pillar's resonance is too small, and given the fact that his auto attacks can push enemies (except for the bigger ones of) or can be easily walked out of range to is 👁👄👁

And it deals criminally low damage. Like, why? Why not rack up the numbers? What is the problem????

The more i think about it, the more i can see the points that people have been pointing out. If the issue of energy generation with his pillar is RNG based, then that's simply screwed up. It already adds into the lists of problems that doesn't help with how underpowered he is. And as i am writing this post rn, there are lots and lots of Chinese players enraged about how weak he is as a 5* and causing HUGE fights in forums. People in the genshin subreddit had been debating again and again over heated arguements about his abilities. Even if you visit the genshin subreddit today and check every post about Zhongli, you will see people in the comments mention stuff about how he performs in the game and his abilities.

Mihoyo, give him a buff. I know that giving buffs isn't your thing, but there is honestly thousands and thousands of people expressing their disappointment and anger in how weak you've made him. He is a fan favorite. I love him. Majority of the genshin fanbase do. His character is really good and it hecking sucks that he is having major difficulties in fitting in on the game right now. He deserves better. Make him strong. Buff him. Adjust some of his abilities. Literally give. our. geo. dad. justice.

Those who don't care about damage is probably rolling their eyes at my rant rn but given how objectively weak he is compared to the other characters in game, it won't hurt if he gets a buff.

When the survey for Zhongli and Xinyan comes, rate him low. I know. It sucks. It's despicable. Even i hate it. But that is why we have to do it. If we become honest to Mihoyo about how much weak they made him, then maybe they are going to consider buffing or adjusting his abilities.

I'm sorry for the negative post. There is still hope for geo dad. He is incredibly fun to use but if you are debating on whether to pull for him or not, my answer would be

If you absolutely love him as a character, go for it.

Otherwise, just wait for now. Because his state in the game isn't looking so good at the moment.

For those that already have him and are also disappointed or saddened by what happened, take comfort in knowing that tons of people are still using Zhongli (including me who went through such roller coaster of emotions lmaoaoaoa) regardless of the information that he is behind in terms of being a dps and support. And that there is still hope for him (WAIT FOR THE SURVEY AND RATE HIM LOW YO 😭😭😭 IT WON'T GUARANTEE THAT MIHOYO IS GONNA BUFF HIM BUT WITH ALL THE PEOPLE RAGING RN THERE IS A HIGH POSSIBILITY THAT THEY WILL LOL)

Have some goofy screenshots that i took while playing as Schlongli

#[nanderthal.]#genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #hang in there my lovelies 😭😭#i hate it too but sjfjshfoehdoshs #our hope lies in the surveys #and the rage; ironically enough #other than that if you really want to use him then go for it 🥺#there is no one stopping you #he is super fun to play after all!!#he just deserves better goddamnit mihoyo 👁😭#give us that OP petrification #or even better pillars #anYTHING MIHOYO

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grokebaby · 3 years

Text

What's back home?

Katherine got up at 6:05. She always got up first. And most always at the same time. She got into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker. It started working a cup with a conveniently quiet Humm. She took out her sugar free yogurt and organic fruits and started putting them in the bowl in an aesthetically pleasing order. After setting the bowl down on the table with a fresh cup of black coffee, she voice commanded the radio on her favourite channel and began doing her morning exercises. It was all the same routine she'd been doing since turning 20. And her body simply couldn't start up without a good exercise and a stretching.

Her husband Gerald slept for another hour until finally crawling out of the bedroom. "Good morning dear", Katherine said in a neutral tone, reading an e-book she'd started earlier that week. Her breakfast table-ware had already been run under the tap and put in the sink neatly. "Mornin' honey. News!" Gerald responded, opening the fridge. Their radio switched to the news channel as Gerald put last night's lasagna in the microwave. "Don't yell at the radio", Katherine quipped over the noise of the empire's latest happenings. "I didn't" Gerald responded. "You just did." his wife pushed back, not even lifting her head from her reading. "It runs on voice command Katey, I just commanded it" Gerald explained drowsily, pulling up his boxers. "The AI doesn't need to be convinced of your authority to do it's job honey" Katherine notified half seriously. The microwave made a little ping, opening the door to a lukewarm plate of lasagna. Gerald took a fork and sat in the matching armchair next to his wife's. "Katey I love you but we have this same conversation literally every morning." He sighed, taking a forkful of food.

"No we don't. Not literally. I love you too Gerry" Katherine retorted, adding the nickname most likely out of some frustrating way to get back at him. He snorted in amusement, sharing a look with the woman. There was still the same warmth under an ever thinning layer of self centered dignity. She continued reading. But they did have this same conversation yesterday..

Kalvin was forced to take a standing spot in the train again. He was fortunately used to standing around by this point in his life, since his job included alot of walking anyway. He looked out the window as the tubular vehicle slid up the tracks, above the ground level traffic. A person he usually didn't think about popped up in his mind. It was in the form of a childhood memory, probably brought on by two small children running into a store. He and Luke used to shoplift every now and then. They'd see a cool train set in the window, or a packet of muffins in the aisle, and immediately get the same idea. Sharing a brain cell stayed with them for years after the orphanage, even after their little brother circle was broken. One of them would always distract the employees either by asking incessant questions about a random product, pretend to buy something, or fake an injury. Or sometimes get an actual injury. Luke was a clumsy kitten.

He smiled a little, catching his tail wagging subconsciously. It stopped once he acknowledged it. His mind swam to a more recent memory of his brother. Frustrated growls and tense tail flicking. He remembered how astounded he was upon hearing what Luke actually did for a living.. "Oh cmon, we used to do vigilant-y stuff all the time! What's so shocking here?" Luke'd said. Kalvin tried to list all the legal and physical trouble his brother would be in, if anything were to happen.

"It's secret, Kalvin! We hide our traces! Obviously!"

That wasn't explanation enough. They eventually ended the discussion. For that evening at least. But it was the start of many more arguments. Not that it was the only subject of discourse. His brain skipped to the part where Kalvin was done packing his belongings into the van, gotten in himself and looked to his brother. They shared eye contact. It was cold. It hurt. It didn't lessen his anger. The next time he saw his brother was on the news. A mugshot. A crazy headline. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream "I told you so!" to his brother's face. He couldn't.

The train smoothly slid to a stop, intercom announcing where they were now. Kalvin was shaken out of his reflections. He stepped out.

Ash groaned and decided to finally give studying a rest. He'd been reading the same paragraph over and over again, not really digesting any of it. He sighed heavily and stared at the screen for a few seconds, blankly. After spacing out for a solid minute, he simply shook his head and got up to fetch himself ice tea from the fridge. There wasn't much else in there. He strolled into the livingroom, wanting to get away from what his brain considered "Studying space". The tea was kinda stale but the coldness of it refreshed him a little, relaxing his body.

He glanced at the clock, only to notice it was afternoon already. He smiled a little at the timing of his tea - his mother would be doing the same back home right about now. He should call her. He texts her regularly but the poor woman only takes the time to write in the evenings, right before bed, as she's scrolling her phone for one last reality check. She'd definitely appreciate the call. Everything's on voice command back there anyways.

He had her number on quick dial, and the phone was ringing in a second. She took a bit to pick up, but soon enough an old woman spoke from the other end. "Yes dear?" Ash swallowed. He way preferred non-instant methods of communication - talking directly to someone was so easy to mess up.

"Hi mom. What's up? I just uhh.. Took an ice tea from the fridge and thought of you, I guess." he said into the phone. "Oh, I was just putting on my own tea right here, right - right about now. It's boiling. But it'll come fast for sure." she stuttered back. "Yeah, that's why -.." Ash started before being cut off. "Yes how's studying dear? You um, you had that big exam coming up." Ash stifled a sigh. He definitely wasn't in the mood to get right back to this topic again. "Yeah.. Yeah I was just taking a little break here. There's alot of material to.. you know, take in."

The rest of the call consisted of small talk and affirming to his mom that yes, he does indeed still live by the basic standards of hygiene, and that yes, his friends at school are doing good but are just busy. He eventually hung up.

Could've gone worse. He let his thoughts wonder for the time it took him to finish the ice tea, after which he begrudgingly returned to his materials again

Amalia turned off the TV. The news always gave her anxiety. Something bad always happened, either on the news or whenever someone was watching them. If it was something she really had to know, it would surely come to her knowledge some other way.

She got up to make herself cocoa. Knowing Colin would be coming home from football practice around this time, she prepared two cups.

Out the window she could see the local neighbourhood. It wasn't the fanciest one, but she'd gotten comfortable in it by now. It was already dark out, and most work-going people would be inside. Only a few people floated by, illuminated by the street lights. A group of youngsters on their way to the pub. Elderly people going to the store last minute to get something they just remembered. Late-night workers picking up trash. A band of strangers lurking behind the corner.

Something about that didn't sit right with her.

She looked away, afraid they'd notice her at the window. Pulling the curtain, she dared quick glances every few minutes. About three or four people, waiting around for something. Nobody hung out for fun in spots like these. They were talking with each other, although probably not pleasantries. Most of them wore sizeable coats, and the ones that didn't had stuff to carry. Her palms dampened with sweat and she looked away again, trying not to focus on whatever thoughts seeing them originally brought up.

Her cocoa got cold as she forgot to drink it.

Memories tried to push up to the surface. Of large groups of strangers surrounding her. Being held against a cold brick wall. Manhandling. Her claws slid out, pushing against the wooden table. She'd managed to tear into a cloth, or perhaps an ear with them in the past. She wanted to avoid conflict at all costs. The house around her felt too empty. Cold. The stinging phantom smell of alcohol and blood slid up her nostril

The door opened and shut. "Evening! I smell cocoa!" Colin meowed from the entryway. He quickly threw his coat to the rack and peeked his head into the kitchen. Amalia blinked and tried to shake the anxiety away. She picked her claws off the table subtly enough to seem casual, and smiled to the young tom. She took a breath and started purring. "Oh, yes. I put your cup on the table right here. Go wash up first sweetie". He was always a bit ruffled up after practice, considering what kind of sport football was like. Amalia found it a bit too intense and always worried about Colin getting hurt amongst the kicking and tackling. "Yes ma'am", he trilled, making his way to the bathroom. Once he was out of sight, she glanced out the window again. The group had left.

Stella changed her reading position. Judging by the neckpain and the heaviness of her eyelids, she'd probably have to put away her book soon. And she decided to do it now before she got lost in the charmingly papery pages of her vintage reading. She tucked it on it's designated place on the shelf, right between two other books. She was very happy with the collection she'd amassed thus far.

She stretched, mind still swimming in the mythical stories of old. She absently looked out the window. It was dark, except for her reading light. The house was quiet. She knew she had places to be tomorrow morning, but didn't feel like being there just yet. She wanted to savor the rare moments of peace and freedom that, unfortunately, mostly happened during the late hours. Her eyes, as if on instinct, looked for the moon. She remembers going outside every day for weeks on end, just to look at it with a periscope. It had offered her some semblance of comfort, getting to see where her brother was kept. She knew it was virtually impossible to go see him in person. The phone calls around New years were always emotional.

She didn't see it. Must've been the time of month. She decided not to devote any brain power to worrying, and just sat there. No stars were visible through the light pollution, but that wasn't new.

She slowly and begrudgingly changed into her pajamas and sat on her bed. Jeremy was also a night owl, wasn't he? He'd always be fixated on something random, like cleaning some closet in his room, or looking up monster sightings in their area, or how toffee was made. She smiled a little, though it was gone in a second as longing pricked her chest. For the thousandth time she went through all the thoughts of denial and disbelief. Ones like "He's such a sweet guy, he wouldn't just straight up kill a person", "There's no way he got into a guarded building unassisted. What if it was staged?", or "Where did he even get a farmer's stunner that strong, they're only available in very specific, company oriented businesses". She swiped the thoughts away and forcibly tucked herself to bed. She'd cried enough over it, and decided to let life be as it was right now, whether she liked it or not.

Things don't always work out how you want them to

#Moon prison #My writings #Morsos stories #My ocs #Writblr

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herding-octokittens · 4 years

Text

Don't Turn the Ship Off

I spent way too much time ignoring my homework to write this...

AO3

Chapter One

“Jonny D’Ville,” the stranger said, face running through an obstacle course of emotions. “I can quite honestly say it is a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.” They had long grey hair pulled back in a low ponytail under a dark hat. The general shape of their body was hidden under a dark trench coat, and their shoes were dark and looked like thick leather. The only thing Jonny could really make out was that they were rather tall, especially by his standards, and there was what looked like a knife scar on their forehead. That must’ve hurt.

“Yeah, uh, who the fuck are you?” Jonny slurred back, face flushed with alcohol and slightly splattered with streaks of blood.

The stranger hummed thoughtfully as Jonny ran into one of the Aurora’s door struts. He fumbled to grab on and hold himself up as the stranger spoke again.

“I don’t know why you would recognize me, but I know you. You killed my brother, shot him clean through the skull and stole his ship. I was an unremarkable nobody on an unremarkable planet at the time, but now I am your ending. I have tracked you my whole life, and now that I have found you, you will never escape me again.” They paused, tilting their head. “I do feel obligated to thank you for giving me a reason to get off my homeworld. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate you, of course, but spending fifty years slowly and carefully tracking one’s prey does allow a certain detachment from such strong emotions as rage and anger.”

“Y’know what else lets you detach your emotions?” Jonny asked far too loudly, reaching towards a flask hooked onto one of his many belts. After a few seconds struggling to unclip the damn thing, he raised it up and downed the mostly-full container in seconds. With a burp, he answered his own question. “This shit. This expensive shit right here. And I’m no lightweight, so that’s a real big tab I just racked up. And I gotta tell you,” he leaned in towards the stranger. “I didn’t pay a single bit of it! S’not the first time I did that either. You’d think they’d stop letting me into the place. I probably owe them a whole ship by now,” he whispered conspiratorially, and burped.

The stranger glared, lips curling into the beginning of a snarl. Whatever emotions they claimed to have detached themself from appeared to be returning in full force. Jonny tried to smile. He loved when he had that effect on people. Unfortunately, he couldn’t figure out how to make his face muscles do the thing and so just ended up looking more drunk than he thought was fair.

“Follow me,” the stranger ground out between clenched teeth. Turning on their heels, they disappeared into the dark of the Aurora’s loading bay. Jonny stumbled after, vaguely aware that the lights normally weren’t off this time of day. Or night. Whenever he was, the lights should have been on.

“Why’re lights off?” He tried to ask, tongue blundering around the question.

“I thought it better for everyone’s sake if I kept the loading bay in darkness,” the stranger replied crisply. Evidently they had re-detached their emotions now. Jonny frowned. That wouldn’t do.

“Aurora!” He shouted, spinning in a circle and almost throwing up. That also wouldn’t do. “Can you turn the lights on down here? Ashes hasn’t cleaned up their new shit and I’m too drunk to deal with this place in the dark!”

There was a brief, painful whirring sound, one Jonny had only heard three times before. The first two times had been when Nastya had been trying to figure out how to power Aurora back on again after Brian had accidentally shut her off completely and almost wiped her memory. The third had been when Raphaella and Tim had gotten into a good old fashioned fistfight and had actually managed to wipe the Aurora’s memory and rebooted the whole ship. Nastya had been very close to launching the two of them into the nearest singularity, and Ivy had only barely managed to talk her down, having just made a backup copy of the ship’s memory two days earlier for the archives. In short, it was not a good whirring sound.

“You turned my ship off!” Jonny shouted, making his own ears ring. “Tha’s not very nice,” he mumbled at a much lower volume.

“Yes, I did.” The stranger began to climb a series of ladders up out of the loading bay. Jonny, not really seeing any other options, followed them up. He fell off the bottom rung three times before he remembered he needed to actually place his foot on the rung to be able to go anywhere.

“Gravity is fucking stupid,” he muttered. Slightly louder, he called up to the figure who had disappeared into the gloom above. “So… why'd’ya turn my ship off?”

“It was necessary.”

“Yeah, but why? Ships don’t work unless they’re on. And as much as Aurora isn’t a normal ship, she still needs to be on.”

Jonny emerged from the ladders into the corridor leading down to one of the engine rooms. He couldn’t say for certain, but there were definitely other engine rooms that Nastya had hidden from the rest of the crew. This was the only one he had access to (and also the only one he knew for sure existed, but that was beside the point).

“The engine room? Ugh! Nastya’s gonna kill me if I make a mess in there.”

“Make a mess?”

Jonny smiled and ran into the wall. He really needed to watch where he was walking. “Yeah. See, I’m gonna have to kill you in a minute here. I’m just a little drunk right now, and I really don’t want to shoot the wrong thing.”

“The way I hear it, you couldn’t shoot the right thing if your life depended on it,” the stranger almost snorted.

“That’s rude! I can totally shoot well if I need to!”

“Hmm,” the stranger hummed noncommittally.

“Now can you just answer the damn question? Why’d you turn my ship off?”

The stranger heaved open the door into the engine room and turned back towards Jonny for the first time since entering the Aurora. The light from the emergency panels did little to give Jonny any indication of what they were doing with their face, but if he had to guess, they were probably channeling those unhelpful emotions they had previously detached. A sneer, maybe. Perhaps even a snarl, but he didn’t think he’d been that annoying. Not that he wasn’t trying.

“It was the only way to get your engineer to comply with my, well, let’s call them my requests.” Jonny was stone cold sober in an instant, not that the stranger needed to know. “She’s very protective of this old piece of junk, isn’t she?” They disappeared into the heart of the Aurora.

#the mechanisms #the mechs #my fic #my work #jonny d'ville #nastya rasputina #the aurora #Jonny Has the Worst Aim on the Aurora Right? series

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haddonfieldproject · 5 years

Text

1️⃣7️⃣

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.1.17 HALLOWEEN NIGHT 12:24 AM

Haddonfield, Illinois

Samantha yawned as she pulled the keys from the ignition. More lightning flashed in the sky as she behind her, through her rear windshield, at the square building in front of which she was parked. A white triangularly shaped sign with blue lettering designated this as THE PYRAMID INN. The property was perched on a flat hill, overlooking what the locals called “Dysfunction Junction”. Interstate 57, US Route 31, and Illinois 395 all came together in a tangled mess of off ramps and on ramps that sprawled like spaghetti noodles over the northern running section of Lost River, which in this part of town had been diverted into a concrete culvert in the early 40s as part of one of Roosevelt's “Work's Projects”.

Samantha had parked at the end of the mostly empty parking lot, which was her custom, and from her vantage point she could see down into the nest of intersections. She saw the lighted signs of big box stores off to the east on her right. Straight ahead she saw the gas station from which she had come, and to her left, off to the west, she saw a strip club that very obviously used to be a Howard Johnsons, it's parking lot completely full with some cars spilling out along the side of the road in front.

Lovely, she thought sarcastically as she opened her car door. Just my kind of town.

The sweltering humid air hit her in the face like a tennis racket.

“Jesus, it feels like Miami.” She said to herself, and then smiled as she clicked the button on the fob in her hand to open the hatchback on the Murano. “I wish it were Miami.”

Nyguen pulled her rolling suitcase from the back of the car, placed it on the asphault, and extended the handle. “We'll just pretend it's Miami.” She decided as she closed the hatch and turned toward the motel.

The Pyramid Inn seemed to want to help her with the fantasy. For one, it was sweltering hot, almost as bad as outside, and as Ngyuen walked through the automatic glass doors, she felt like she had been magically transported back in time twenty-five years. The lobby was painted a pale teal color, with mauve indoor outdoor carpeting, and popcorn ceilings flecked with glitter....this Sam noticed right away. The yellowish light from pineapple shaped fixtures along the walls was defracted by the glitter, creating the sensation of moving sparkles above her as Samantha strolled through a lobby furnished with wood and wicker tables and chairs, painted white, the chairs padded with brightly colored cushions patterned with tropical motifs. There was abundant wall art too---strange scenes of Egyptian landmarks like the pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx, except...done in a weird art deco style that seemed wrong somehow.

An large old fashioned square CRT television was affixed to a hanging mount in each corner, below each was a potted palm tree. One of the TVs was displaying The Weather Channel although the sound was turned all the way down. A pretty blonde woman was standing in front of a map of the Midwest, sweeping her hand across thick line of red, orange, yellow, and green splotches. The other TV had the volume on and was showing an aerial view of a baseball stadium even the most casual of fans would know.

“We're in the top of the 10th here at Wrigley Field in Chicago. The Cubs have gone to the bullpen yet again for another pitching change as the White Sox have just taken 3-2 game lead in this decisive Game Seven of the World Series.”

Nguyen rolled her luggage around a coffee bar, and approached the desk, bumping into a cheap looking display rack featuring brochures with picturesque views and colorful headings. SEE CHICAGO! THINGS TO DO IN CENTRAL ILLINOIS! PEORIA CALLS YOU! And SEE THE CAVERNS OF LITTLE EGYPT!

A morbidly obese woman sat behind the counter fanning herself with one of the brochures: LOST RIVER KAYACKING!

She wore a white t-shirt with red letters that read: I SURVIVED ARKANSAS' LARGEST SLINGSHOT AT THE CRITTENEDEN COUNTY FAIR 2003. The shirt had either been shrunk so many times by frequent washing or the woman who wore it had ballooned up in weight considerably because now it hugged the contours of her bulbous body, giving her a look of the Michelin Man. Her mouth hung open revealing two sets of badly yellowing teeth, and a large dime-sized mole protruded from the left side of her neck. Sam could see the light from the pineapple lamps reflecting off hairs near the tip of the mole.

Not quite Miami, Nguyen thought as she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me?”

The woman did not stir.

“Curveball from Bellamy drops inside, it's one and one on Franklin.”

Nguyen rolled her eyes.

“Ma'am!” She exclaimed and plopped her car keys loudly on the desk.

The woman jumped and her eyes snapped open. The brochure fluttered aimlessly to the gound as she leaned forward in the seat, blinking rapidly for a moment before fixing her gaze on Samantha.

“Jesus Lord Almighty!”She exclaimed, breaking out into a haughty laugh that seemed to come from the depths of her enormous stomach. “You scared the everliving tar out of me!”

“I'm sorry.” Samantha smiled warmly.

“Don't be, don't be.” The woman groaned as she stood up from the chair. She wiped the beaded sweat off her forehead. “Jesus God is it hot in here!”

“Yeah it is.” Samantha agreed, withdrawing her phone from her pantsuit pocket and checking the time, mentally calculating the precious few hours of sleep she was going to get that night.

“It's not our fault.” The woman exclaimed, reaching the desk and panting as if she had just climbed a mountain. “Corporate has the damn thing programmed. This time of year the AC never comes on in here. We're supposed to run the ceiling fans, but that's been broke for two years.”

She motioned to the ceiling behind Sam who turned around and saw two wires protruding from a hole in the ceiling in the center of the room, as well a slight discoloration in the form of a circle where a fan obviously used to be.

“And then they tell me if it gets too hot to open a damn window. I said Christ!, it's just as damn hot out there! And the wind aint blowin for nothing.”

Samantha replaced her phone in her pocket. “Yes, it sure is strange.”

“It's NEVER like this in October...hell..now it's the first of November! NEVER like this! I mean...we've had a hot day or two at the beginning of September but NEVER this hot on Halloween!”

Samantha nodded, not knowing what else to say.

The woman moved a computer mouse across the desk and began typing on the keyboard.

“I tell you what,” she said, “I don't understand all of the mess that they talk about on the TV.”

As she said this, she pointed to the television in the corner that was displaying The Weather Channel, which right now was showing a commercial for Flex Seal. “But this type of weather will make you a believer in that Global Warming stuff.”

“Yeah,” Nguyen forced a laugh.

The woman looked up at her and waved her hand. “But you don't gotta worry about it, there's a window unit in your room. The rooms are nice and comfortable.”

“That's good.” Nguyen replied.

“Just you tonight sweetie?”

“Just me.”

“I just need a drivers license.”

Samantha presented it.

“Just passing through?” The woman asked as she entered Sam's information into the decade old computer.

“No, I think I'll be town for a few days.”

The woman looked up in disbelief. “In town? What town? This town?”

Samantha didn't know what to say.

“No one comes and visits Haddonfield!” The woman laughed another belly laugh. This one devolved into coughing which she stifled with her hand....the same hand she handed Samantha back her driver's license with.

Not Miami at all. Sam thought, placing the card into her wallet.

“That will be $38.96 sweetie.”

Sam couldn't hide her surprise. This was the cheapest motel room she had gotten since...well...ever. She passed over her Bureau issued AMEX card.

“Oh I'm sorry honey, we don't take American Express.”

“Oh.” Samantha shrugged. Ordinarily this might have been an issue but she was pretty sure she could handle a $40 motel room from her personal checking. Besides, the department would reimburse her later. She passed over her VISA.

“I'm gonna need a receipt then.” She said.

“You got it.” The woman replied and opened a drawer in front of her, pulling out a large bronze key on a white triangular shaped keychain emblazoned with the motel's name and logo.

Actual keys, Samantha marveled, not those plastic keycards. She wracked her brain for the last time she had seen that and decided on..never.

Five minutes later she had rolled her suitcase into room 113 and had turned the key in the lock. The room was furnished very much like the lobby: light teal walls, mauve indoor/outdoor carpeting, popcorn cielings flecked with glitter set to sparkle by another pineapple shaped light fixture. She was almost positive the bedspread and pillow case mached the pattern in the chair cushions in the lobby as well. Samantha paused briefly to look at a picture on the wall, another strange Art-Deco Egyptian painting, this one featuring Cleopatra flanked on both sides by lions. The paintings were so bizzare and striking. Sam looked in the bottom corner: Rose Gauge 2019.

I'm gonna have to google more art by this Rose Gauge person. She thought, kicking off her shoes into a corner. She walked over the window unit as she pulled at the buttons of her pantsuit. There she turned the knob all the way toward the thickest part of the blue semi-circle and felt a refreshingly invorating blast of cold air hit her face from the dusty looking window air conditioner.

She laid down on the bed, and still with her bra and spanx on, she fell asleep almost immediately.

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Special case? Manchester United’s Paul Pogba needs to be special to merit that

Paul Pogba is looking for a new challenge. No, he won't try to justify the £ 89million Manchester United spent on him three years ago. He wants a challenge, not mission impossible.

Pogba's challenge echoes that of many players, not least Romelu Lukaku . It is the challenge of screwing more money out of another elite club, the challenge of racking up higher wages and a sizeable signing-on fee, the challenge of a lighter workload in an easier league.

He doesn't fancy trying to restore Manchester United to the pinnacle of English football next season, or even the top four. He's not up for balancing Thursday night fixtures in Europe with domestic consistency, or helping shape a new team under Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, maybe even as captain.

Paul Pogba isn't interested in trying to justify the £ 89million Manchester United spent on him

CARABAO CUP DRAW

The draw for the first round of the Carabao Cup will take place at Morrison's supermarket in Colindale, with Ray Parlor, on Thursday. Of course it will.

These are all significant challenges, but Pogba isn't interested.

And he has already pulled off one impressive challenge. That of fooling some of the people, most of the time.

Manchester United chief executive Ed Woodward, for instance. If, as is believed, United are willing to increase Pogba's wage to close on £ 500,000 a week, deception is one challenge he has mastered.

United came sixth last season, won nothing again, tailed off at a crucial stage and ended in uproar, losing at home to relegated Cardiff City. How can one of the leading protagonists in an underwhelming campaign merit an annual pay rise of £ 10m?

If United were thinking straight, Pogba's assessment of his form would be considered delusional. They would call in the shrinks, not the accountants.

"After everything that happened, with my season being my best season as well, I think it could be a good time to have a new challenge somewhere else," Pogba told reporters in Japan.

The 26-year-old French midfielder's problem has long leg a belief in his own publicity

Best season? Well, given his form in previous campaigns, that really isn't saying much. It is like being considered the most appealing candidate in the battle for the Conservative leadership, or the most intellectually rigorous contestant on Love Island.

Fishing in a pretty murky pool.

Pogba has been nothing like an £ 89m player since coming to Manchester United. And now, having a glimpse of potential shown, he wants to leave?

Pogba's problem has long been a belief in his own publicity. His fellow professionals put him in the PFA team of the season last year, but that was as much an accident or timing as an endorsement. The votes are cast early, at a stage in the season coinciding with Pogba's peak during Solskjaer's honeymoon period.

Had the voting duties place after the campaign ended, it is unlikely he would have made the starting XI. He certainly wouldn't have featured in the two proper teams of the English season – Manchester City and Liverpool.

Pogba was inside the Premier League's top 10 for goals (13) and assists (nine) – yet more than half of his goals were penalties and his passing success rate did not place him among the Premier League's top 80, which is unhelpful for the creative midfield force at one of the best clubs in the country. So numbers do not tell the whole story.

Pogba played the most wonderful long pass to set up the goal that beat Tottenham at Wembley – yet in too many of United's other matches against elite opposition he was ineffectual and his work rate was often poor. Pogba wants to be a special case, but then he needs to be special.

More than half of Pogba's goals this season were penalties – numbers don The tell the whole story

All that makes him stand out in the wider context is his ability to create trouble for Manchester United. This latest controversy has blown up a personal promotional trip east for adidas. United may well ask what's in it for them.

If reports of the asking price are accurate, £ 133m. Yet there is little chance Real Madrid will pay that, or much like it. More plausible is that Pogba will become a gigantic plague this summer, in an attempt to try United's patience and leave at a reduced rate.

This is a familiar strategy, one that often works. If United puts an improved offer before Pogba and he turns them down, they will know what the closed season holds. The challenge will be all theirs, preventing Pogba capping his 'best' campaign by utterly derailing theirs.

FURY'S CIRCUS DID NOT RING TRUE

In the bubble that exists around major sports, it is possible to imagine you are invested in something huge. Boxing, in particular, is brilliant at that. The hoopla around Tyson Fury's fight in Las Vegas was captivating and promoters are masters at making their event seem like the center of the universe. Yet in Monterey – which can be reached from Vegas in little more time than it takes to fly London to Manchester – we couldn't find it anywhere.

Even the sports bar voted the city's best 16 years in a row offered nothing. So, reduced to viewing on a mobile phone, perhaps some of the nuances or Fury's performance passed us by. Yet, these eyes, and those of the others watching, saw a boxer who moved very well and did his job swiftly and efficiently and an opponent who was out of his class and at times little more than a straight man.

And while Fury's showmanship is not in doubt, any show worth seeing – certainly any show worth paying for – usually lasts longer than five minutes, unless Usain Bolt is involved. If he fights Deontay Wilder, it's interesting. Until then, there's better on the other channels.

The hoopla around Tyson Fury's fight against Tom Schwarz in Las Vegas was captivating

DUMB AND DUMBER FROM UEFA

Not long ago, the lunacy of a third-place play-off at the UEFA Nations League finals was highlighted in this column. Not everyone felt negatively about it. The players earn lots of money, they can be worked until they throat from exhaustion, argued some.

Had they not qualified, England would still be playing two matches at this stage of the season in European Championship qualifiers, argued others – ignoring that a qualifier is a necessary game and a third-place play off is not.

Anyway, having watched a tired, goalless 90 minutes, followed by a lifeless blank or 30 minutes, plus a penalty shoot -out that redefined the concept of pointlessness, UEFA president Aleksander Ceferin has reached the startling conclusion that it was a colossal waste of time and should be scrapped.

"Players are tired," he said, as if these were circumstances that could not be foreseen. "It's the end of the season, they want a vacation, they're not fully focused."

It's not the players that need focus, mind, but UEFA. They need to be focused on less stupidity in the future. Smart chance of that as, with his next breath, Ceferin once again attempted to justify having the Europa League climax in Baku. He used the well-rehearsed, stunningly foolish logic, that if two Azerbaijani teams had reached a final at Wembley, there would not have been the same level of complaint. As if this could happen realistically.

Aleksander Ceferin concluded that the Nations League third place play-off was a waste of time

Last season, four teams from Azerbaijan were involved in the Europa League – three entered in the first qualifying round and exited it, too, while Qarabag made the group stage, where they came bottom – goal difference minus 11. After July 19, there was no possibility of an all-Azerbaijani final.

Indeed, since the Europa League was founded, in season 2009-10, only once have two Azerbaijani clubs progressed to the group stage . Both finished bottom of their groups, meaning the chances of thousands of Azerbaijani football fanatics proving UEFA's point by remaining cheerful in the face of an inconvenient trip to Wembley, is a scenario as likely to be tested as a Champions League final that doubles up as the Bristol derby.

"Whenever we have complaints, you don't help yourself in your popularity within European football with that," added Ceferin, like it was a threat.

In other words, dumbfly accept every dumb decision made by dumb UEFA officials or we won't like you.

A BUCKET LIST OF A GOLF COURSE

My dad had never been to Anfield. I used to tell him how great it was, particularly on European nights. I said I'd take him if the chance arose and got tickets for a Champions League group game one Tuesday, against Besiktas. You might recall the date: September 11, 2001.

We heard about the attacks half way up the M6, news worsening with every bulletin. There was wild speculation about planes heading towards London, too. Amazingly, European games went ahead. Dad experienced Anfield, but not the way I had hoped. It was the quietest, flattest atmosphere I have known inside a football ground.

No one wanted to be there – not the teams, not the fans, not us, really. Everyone's thoughts were elsewhere. Dad still said he loved it, but he's a police man. He must have known it is not the same.

We build up these places, these cathedrals of sport, in our minds, sometimes unreasonably. When I told people how excited I was covering a golf tournament at Pebble Beach, I was surprised by some of the reactions. A few folk said I would be let down.

Popular US Open venue Pebble Beach is a bucket list of a course – it was breathtaking

"It's four great holes and the rest are ordinary," I was told. Having been there now, I'd say it's the opposite. Four ordinary holes and the rest are astonishing. If they're not on the Pacific Ocean, there is usually a view of it. I walked the full 18 on Thursday afternoon and it was breathtaking, no matter the leaden skies that have a fixture these last five days.

It's a bucket list of a course, also for a player like Tiger Woods, who must have been there a hundred times, but would occasionally just pause to look around.

It is wonderful partnership, too. Not just the great occasion, but the geography of the California coastline as much part of the drama as the golf itself.

As for Dad, he won't get to Pebble Beach, but he returned to Anfield on August 17, 2017. Liverpool 4 Arsenal 0. It's fair to say he's seen it now.

THIS IS WHY MEDIA MUST SHOW TEETH

Luis Suarez may have been in denial after biting Giorgio Chiellini at the 2014 World Cup, as he claims, but his countrymen did not need to be. In the aftermath of that incident, Oscar Tabarez – Uruguay's coach and figure previously worthy or respect – made a scattergun, 13-minute denunciation of FIFA and, in particular, the English press and was applauded from the room by his country's journalists.

Suarez has now made Tabarez and many compatriots look like fools, by admitting what was known all along. He did it and he knew he did it. This is what happens if unquestioning cheerleaders take over the national media. No checks, no balances.

Judgment, and a lot else, goes out of the window.

Luis Suarez admitted what was known all along after biting Giorgio Chiellini at the World Cup

GOLF'S RANDOM ACTS OF IDIOCY

If you thought cries or 'geddinahole' were annoying, wait until golf's new idiocy seeps into your consciousness. Having reported from three major tournaments in America this summer, I have noticed a new breed or gallery tee-side shouter. The Random.

For a Random, "geddinahole" is too commonplace. If every loudmouth is shouting it and on every hole, how will anyone know when its your loud mouth taking its turn? Thanks to social media and reality television these oafs are evermore convinced that they need to be heard all the time, that their contribution is important and no event is complete without them.

Their need to be personally identified is greater than ever, too. For the Random, this is all about making his – and it is always him, never her – voice audible to the people who are watching at home. He plans in advance, alights on a keyword or phrase and then informs his buddies of his intentions.

There is a new breed or gallery tee-side shouter at the golf golf – known as The Random

'Listen out for me. I'll be the one who shouts "Yabbadabbadoo" at the seventh. " Or 'Holy Moly', or 'shut the door' because you could hear them all at Pebble Beach and a thousand other meaningless catch phrases, a permanent idiot clamor, increasingly mistimed as alcohol took its toll on the hardy remaining brain cells.

Still, if all the unfunniest people in the world are gathered in one place, at least someone, somewhere, should be laughing. Their wives, probably.

Manchester City is Harry Maguire's destination of choice this summer. He should be under no illusions, though, about the exacting standards of the coach. Costly mistakes earned John Stones an arm around the shoulder and the steadfast support of England manager Gareth Southgate. Pep Guardiola witnessed the same and dropped him. As good as he is, Maguire wants to raise his game.

Harry Maguire wants to raise his game if he plays for Pep Guardiola at Manchester City

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