Anonymous asked:
yo my gf loves your art can I request a silly pic of the bean to show her
[Here you go!]
among mooglekind there is an act referred to as a "bump snuzzle." this is done with loved ones ONLY!! it's also how E'li likes to show Raha affection 🥰
(E'li was raised by moogles LOL)
did a redraw of that one behind the scenes photo for fun! :>
In a world dependant on superpowers, you though your ability of being immune to direct alterations from other powers was mildly inconvenient. You realize something is up when a friend points out you haven’t aged at all in a decade.
The Time Machine was backwards traveling only, and now your stuck in the Medieval Times. You pull out your phone, expecting it to be nonfunctional, but instead find it to be working fine, and the date on the Home Screen reading “October 12th, 952”.
It soon became clear that the old house was haunted. That wasn’t the strange part. Instead of the usual cold spots the house was always cozy despite the broken furnace. One day you even woke up to fresh cookies you definitely had no memory of baking. It was time to pull out the Quija board.
Alejandro had bought the house Mariana told him about because it was close to his new job, not to mention dirt cheap. the neighbors were flighty, and sure, maybe the basement had mold, and sure, maybe the attic was full of cobwebs, but a big house on top of a hill with a view of the mountains in the distance? Sign him up.
The first few months nothing happened. He’d moved in with very few issues, made friends at work, even had his sister and her family over for dinner a few times.
“Tio Alejandro,” his niece Lucia said one night as she played with her dinner, “your house is haunted.”
“Lucia!” Mariana snapped at her daughter, “Don’t say things like that! It’s rude. Apologize, right now!”
Lucia just looked at her mother, confused. “But it is. The old lady in the hallway said so.”
Juan, Mariana’s husband, just laughed. “The old lady in the hallway, huh?” Lucia nodded so fast it looked like her head might fall off. “Did she have a name?”
“Yeah, she said her name was, um, Paloma.”
Alejandro laughed with Juan and reached out to ruffle Lucia’s hair. “Sorry, mija, there’s no Palomas living here. Just Alejandro.”
Lucia pouted. “But she was right there! In the hallway by the bathroom!”
“Lucia! Stop talking about it!”
“Sorry, Mami.”
And for a long time, that was the end of the thought of Alejandro’s house being haunted.
And then the furnace broke in the middle of winter, and Juan was too busy with work to come fix it.
“You’re sure you don’t have time?” Alejandro asked, checking the thermostat one last time as it dipped below 50 degrees inside.
“Sorry, hermano, the business is booked, and I’ve been havin’ to bust my ass around the house since the doctor put Mariana on bedrest until she has the twins. I’d help if I could, but I’m just too busy.”
Alejandro sighs. “Well, thanks anyway. And tell Lucia and Mariana I said hi. And good luck when the twins come!”
“No problem, hermano. I hope you find someone to fix your furnace!” With that, Juan hung up.
Alejandro sighed as he began packing his lunch for work. It was certainly going to be a long day.
Except, when he got home, the house was warm and cozy. Alejandro plopped his stuff onto the sofa and immediately went to go check the furnace, but it was still broken, cold to the touch. Was he going crazy? He shrugged and went back upstairs, not one to question a good thing.
Except when he got back upstairs, his stuff wasn’t on the sofa anymore. His coat had been hung on the coat rack, his bags set neatly on the table, his lunchbox unpacked, and all the trash and dirty dishes within either thrown away or in the sink, ready to be washed.
He must’ve just not remembered doing those things, right? Yeah, that had to be the solution. Alejandro went to bed that night, dirty dishes still in the sink, warm and cozy underneath his blankets, wondering just how he’d managed to forget doing those things.
When he woke up, the dishes were clean, his fridge was organized, and his lunchbox was sitting on the counter, already packed with a thermos full of leftover pozole, an orange, a bottle of lemonade, cucumber slices, an ice pack, and two canelita cookies.
He must’ve packed lunch last night. And…done the dishes. He vaguely wonders if he should see a doctor for his memory problems, but then thinks they might laugh at him. After all, who could forget packing lunch and doing the dishes?
Alejandro’s denial could only last so much longer when he woke up a week later to fresh chocolate chip cookies on the counter, stacked onto a plate he didn’t even own.
This has gone too far, he thought as he picked up a cookie, still just a tiny bit warm, this place is haunted by my abuelita, I swear.
He carefully bit into one. It tasted homemade, better than anything he could’ve made himself. Whoever this person was, whoever was haunting his house, and wasn’t that a thought, needed to show themself. He at least needed to get their cookie recipe.
It took some digging, but he eventually found it: the Ouija board Mariana had gotten him as a gag gift, the one he would scare Lucia with on Halloween nights, the one he never thought he’d use for anything other than that.
“Should I light a candle?” he wondered aloud as he set up the Ouija board. The air turned warmer for just a moment before he called out, asking if there were any spirits here.
The planchette began to move, without Alejandro’s guidance, towards the “YES” on the board. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“What…is your name?” Alejandro asked slowly, voice shaking. The planchette moved around, slowly spelling out the name Paloma. Lucia’s words from months ago ring through his mind.
“The old lady in the hallway….Paloma…”
“Are you…the person Lucia saw in the hallway?”
The planchette moved to “YES” once more.
“Have you been doing all these things around the house?”
“YES.”
Alejandro has a feeling he already knows the answer to the next one. “Was…is this your house?”
“YES.”
“Did…you die here?”
“YES.”
“Are you…going to hurt me?”
Very quickly the planchette slides to “NO.”
“Do you…want me to move out?”
There’s a moment’s hesitation, then, “NO.”
Too anxious to continue, Alejandro moves the planchette to “GOODBYE.”
The next morning, he wakes up to a fresh, hot plate of huevos con chorizo, a warm cup of coffee, and an already-packed lunchbox. As he eats, he thinks he could get used to Paloma. He smiles, and the kitchen window creaks open a little farther, letting in some cool air to stop the kitchen from being stuffy.
“Thanks, Paloma,” he says, finishing his breakfast, “for everything.” A cabinet creaks open, the gently creaks shut. Alejandro takes it as “you’re welcome.”
Bartenders only serve drinks as a side job. Their real profession? Hunting down every bastard named Bart. You are now the last Bart alive, and they will stop at nothing until you’re dead.
It soon became clear that the old house was haunted. That wasn’t the strange part. Instead of the usual cold spots the house was always cozy despite the broken furnace. One day you even woke up to fresh cookies you definitely had no memory of baking. It was time to pull out the Quija board.
You’re immortal, and have passed the ‘hero’ phase centuries ago. You enter a small coffee shop one day to find that it’s owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really just want a chai latte though.
You two make eye contact.
Slowly you take out a pair of sun glasses you still had in your pocket despite it being a foggy day and put them on. Then you take your white red dotted scarf and pulled it over your nose. Everything while holding eye contact with your nemesis.
Now you approach the counter.
“Hello, can i please get a large Chai Latte to go please.”
Your nemesis stars at you as if you grew a second head.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, I, a completely normal citizen, am ordering a Chai Latte, please, to go.”
“You can’t just come in here and think i don’t recognize you. You put your disguise on after i saw you!”
You look at them over the frame of your glasses because it is actually way too dark inside this coffee shop to wear them.
“I am sorry, i have never seen you in my life. I’m just trying ot get a Chai Latte.”
You hope that they get the hint. You are really not in the mood today to level a city block over an argument about your techniques of disguise.
Thankfully your nemesis finally seems to get it. They just groan and turn around halfway to operate the machine. They don’t turn around fully, to keep an eye on you. Neither of you would trust the other to show them your back. But that way you can also see how your nemesis very obviously puts something in your drink, because they nearly missed the cup while looking at you.
You roll your eyes. They never stop trying.
When they are done, you pay, wish them a nice day and take off your scarf to drink.
You take a sip of your Chai Latte and smile.
They splutter and you don’t know if it is because you took off your disguise or because the poison doesn’t affect you anymore.
You turn around and leave the shop. You don’t like to fight when it is that bad weather outside. And the shop is quite nice. It be a shame if it got destroyed.
You are at the center of a time traveling war. For every assassin sent back to the past to murder you, another warrior is sent to protect you and kill the assassin before they get a chance. As the bodies pile up, you still don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so important to these people.
You have made your decision. With a heavy sigh and a glance heavenwards, you know it is time. Your decision rings true inside your mind– it’s time to order Chinese takeout, not pizza. After all, you have had pizza already three times in the last 10 days or so. But that is only because you love it so. And I you love it so, why not get again? No, you shake off the persistent idea like a fly that is on your hair. Chinese takeout is a bit healthier and a bit cheaper, and since losing your job, you really ought to be pinching as many pennies as you can.
So with the resolve of a correct decision energizing you, you feel ready to call the Chinese place down the street. You’ve decided on kung pao chicken and mapo tofu, maybe a side of egg rolls. You pick up your cell phone off the coffee table, looking them up on the Google Maps because that’s the only way you remember their number. As you dial, you feel a strange nervous anxiety take over your breath, almost making you hang up for some reason.
“喂，你好?” is what you hear. You recognize his friendly, paternal voice. “Mr. Jin, it’s me. I wanna make an order for pickup. Can I get a kung pao chicken and mapo tofu?”
“Ah yes, of course! It’s good to hear from you, I was worried you are gonna eat too much pizza lately.” You can hear Mr. Jin smiling at you through the phone. He loves to poke fun at you, chomping at the bit when there’s even a hint of a chance. Most of the time you find it endearing, but after your difficult decision to even order Chinese food, you carefully navigate away from any more conversation that could give him the opportunity to barb you.
“Okay, it will be about ten minutes, see you then.” Mr. Jin ends the conversation and hangs up. It’s about a 6 minute walk to Mr. Jin’s so that gives you four minutes. Now you are left wondering what the hell are you going to do with those four minutes. Do you get ready now, and show up early? Or do you try to do something, anything? What can you do with four minutes?! It almost makes you wish you had ordered that pizza, since you wouldn’t have had that dilemma entirely.
You realize you’ve been looking at your phone thinking that you should do something better for 5 minutes, and panic. This always happens each time you call the local Chinese place, and rush to get ready. After sloppily putting on a jacket and a pair of tennis shoes. You make it down the street, and to your lament, you can see your food already cooked and packed in a bag sitting on the counter. Silently cursing your own lethargy, you make go to the register and pay for your food. There’s a new girl there, not Mr. Jin, and you have a lot on your mind anyway, so you finish the transaction without making much small talk. A bit despondent you exit, and start walking own the quiet night road back to your place.
You turn on some Tycho on your phone and get lost in thought on the way back. Halfway home, you realized you never ordered eggrolls, making you a sliver more disheartened. Mr. Jin tells you that those aren’t even real Chinese food and you shouldn’t order them, but that just makes them somehow more appealing. Combining the greasy, deep-fried eggrolls with the authentic Chinese food that Mr. Jin clued you in on their secret menu a few years back makes you feel like you are an ambassador to all other white people, fluent in both good Chinese and crappy yet delicious Americanized Chinese. Without eggrolls, you suddenly feel inauthentic, an isolated loner trespassing on a culture and land he doesn’t belong in.
You enter your place in a sullen mood. Opening up the fresh, hot Chinese food with steaming white rice improves your mood though. As you’re a few bites into your food, you hear a knock at the door. Feeling weary, you decide to pretend to have not heard it. Without eggrolls (or pizza for that matter), you feel out of place and weak. Let me first regain some of my constitution before I deal with whoever that was, you think to yourself.
Halfway through your dinner, you realize you haven’t heard a second knock. You shrug it off and keep eating. That is, util you hear a loud crash behind you. You whip around to see a man standing in frond of your window, with shattered glass littered all around him. He’s dressed in some kind of paramilitary uniform, but the machine gun strapped to his back is what makes you freak out.
“HOLY SHIT!” you yell without realizing what you are doing. The paramilitary man looks at you with stern eyes. He pulls out a pistol from his thigh, points it at you, and says, “Are you —”
Before he can pull the trigger, you see a knife protruding from his chest. Shocked beyond any rationality, you wonder how his knife got up there. As he slides down with a pathetic groan, you see the knife disappear, and what appears to be a real-life ninja. He gently lays the body to the ground and sees your utter confusion and shock. He says “Worry not, sir. I have been sent by Mr, Jin to protect you.” This clarifies absolutely nothing and actively scares you. What the hell does Mr. Jin have to do with paramilitary and actual ninjas?!
Before you can ask any kind of follow up, the ninja person rushes you to the back of your living room, nd puts the table up. He says, “we should be expecting backup any second now, depending on the configuration.” You don’t understand anything he’s saying but, silently nod. “I’ve sent out a time beacon for my allies to travel to this time and assist us.” You both her a noise that distracts you from the mumbo jumbo he just said. He starts to get up, ready to start another attack, when you say, “Wait!”
“What??” He asks impatiently.
“Who are you people?!” You find the courage to demand. But before he can answer, you hear another bang. The ninja guy topples to the ground and you instinctively duck behind the table. You pop your eye over the upturned side of your table towards where you think the gunshot came from. You see another paramilitary man, hiding behind a chair with his gun pointed towards you. You duck again, and hear a bang, double checking that nothing hit you. As your shaking hands thankfully fail to find any blood, you think “Why the hell didn’t I order pizza?!” But then you think you might be fighting the Italian mob or something instead.
You continue to hide, cowering behind the table when you hear what you could only describe as a wet buzzsaw ripping through your reality. You see another ninja-like guy pop out of a blue aura, but the paramilitary man is prepared. He starts shooting, and hits him. But from behind, another ninja pops out of another dimension, slicing the calves of the paramilitary man, before cutting his throat. He then runs over to you, and pulls something out of a sash around his chest, handing it to you. Subconsciously you take it from him, without even really looking at it. After regaining yourself a bit, you realize it’s an eggroll, and after a bite, it is certainly the same one from Mr. Jin.
You drop the half-eaten eggroll, and ask the ninja again, “Who are you people?! How did you know I wanted an eggroll?! What does Mr. Jin have to do with ninjas?!”
The ninja guy collects his breath and says, “We’re not ninjas. We are members of the 新锦衣卫, which will be founded by the man you know as Mr. Jin in about 20 years. Arising to power in New Chinafornia, he will utilize time travel to help those who need it, with much help from you. Also, it’s well known that the right-hand man of Chief Jin loves eggrolls.” Another bang, this time louder and more disorienting, disrupts the not-ninja ninja’s explanation. He then gives you another eggroll and “Wait here.”
“Well, shit, there goes a few more bodies”, you think to yourself as you bite into the eggroll. You hear screams, gun shots and what seem to be some kind of blades being thrown across the room. The deaths seem to be very evenly matched between the two mysterious sides. It’s still startling and knocks you off balance, but the non-ninja ninja is right. You do love eggrolls, and they help you process everything. As you chew one down, you reflect on what has been told you. Apparently, time travel is a thing?? And Mr. Jin is somehow in charge of it? None of it really makes sense still.
Eventually the noise and chaos on the other side of your dwindling table begins to lessen. The deaths that seemed to be decreasing, and the next “ninja” is with you for several minutes. You use this opportunity to ask him some more things. For example, who are the paramilitary men? He shrugs it off and says they are part of a group that wishes to abuse time travel, and view you as the primary obstacle to having unlimited time warp gates. You are about to ask what you have to do with time travel, but he gets shot by another paramilitary trooper. But this one starts talking to you before you get the chance to run away.
“Please, stop this madness!” He cries out at you. You are surprised, since he says it as if you have wronged him somehow, when (glancing around your utterly destroyed apartment) you are pretty sure you should be playing the victim card. From behind the table, you ask him for clarification. He takes off his mask and says, “Join your brothers! We need to stick to each other if we are going to accomplish unity.” You peep through a hole in your table and see that this man looks exactly like you. “Who…. Who are you!?!?!” You cry in response. But it is too late, he’s been killed, just like all the others. Another ninja man comes to you with another eggroll, and you are appeased temporarily before you remember you saw a clone of yourself.
You turn to the non-ninja ninja and ask “Am… am I trying to kill myself?” He looks at you a if you guessed a secret word hidden inside his mind, which troubles you. You start to ponder whether this is some weird suicide cult, but then the ninja takes off his mask, revealing a perfect copy of a younger Mr. Jin. He then says, “Look bud, the future compared to your times is pretty crazy. Mr. Jin and you go on to accomplish great things, but the use of time travel greatly accelerates our technology. So we have access to many advanced sciences, including cloning. The Order of Xin Jin Yi Wei was created by Mr. Jin and you to help stabilize these advanced sciences in society. But one of your clones got power hungry and is trying to pull off a coup. His plan is to kill you and replace you in the original timeline. But I have an idea. All we need is a time grenade.”
“A what grenade?!” You ask, incredulously. But before anything else is said, there is a sudden flurry of action. Instead of one clone every few minutes, there’s one every second. It’s clear that what was just happening was the eye before the storm, and the final push of the battle has begun. You see hundreds of bodies flying at each other, each dying a few seconds after stepping through their own time warp gate, as you think one of them called it. Eventually, you start noticing a pattern – the ninjas are trying to make their way from one side of the room to the table you’re hiding behind. To help them, you start pushing the table parallel to the gunfire of the paramilitary you’s, and towards the growing pile of ninja bodies. Eventually you see a small glowing blue orb being rolled towards you. You realize, this must be the time grenade.
Picking it up, you pull out the pin and throw it over the table. For a minute, nothing happens. Then you pop your head over the table again, and your apartment is gone. Instead, it has been replaced by what you think is purgatory – an all encompassing white that tricks your eyes. But just as you start to make sense of it, it slowly shrinks away, revealing your apartment. It is still a goddamn mess, but all the bodies are gone.
You aren’t really sure what to think about all this, but you decide that maybe there was some truth in what the time traveling ninjas told you. Your head is spinning, but you decide two things. First, you’re gonna visit Mr. Jin first thing tomorrow. Second, man, eggrolls are good.
You are at the center of a time traveling war. For every assassin sent back to the past to murder you, another warrior is sent to protect you and kill the assassin before they get a chance. As the bodies pile up, you still don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so important to these people.
You are at the center of a time traveling war. For every assassin sent back to the past to murder you, another warrior is sent to protect you and kill the assassin before they get a chance. As the bodies pile up, you still don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so important to these people.
I think that has been done already my dude
You are the first human to attend a school full of demons. Despite your appearance, the demons run away in fear at the sight of you. You tell your school advisor about this.
Miss Advisor –no kidding it was her real name she said first time you met– poured hot water in her teapot for the fourth time this morning. She needed something to hold her from crumbling until lunch break at least.
«Hm… Miss ?» She held her finger toward you, you bit your tongue. «Just… A second, Julian. I need a second.»
Advisor inhaled deeply before cursing like a sailor while you stood in your chair mouth agape. Never had an adult in your old school lashed out this way in front of a student and you were actually kind of amazed by the quantities of curse words she knew. You learned at least six.
Then she came back behind her desk with her teapot the size of your head and her “I’m here” mug.
«Pardon me for just now. I’m a little on edge and you brought up quite the… touchy subject.» She muttered about having warned her superiors or something.
«It’s fine.» You answered. «But I’d like to know what’s happening? Did I do something? Are teenage demons naturally afraid of humans? Aren’t demon supposed to make deals with humans?-»
Miss Advisor patted your head to make you shut up. She pinched her nose bridge with her second hand and used another to serve herself tea.
«It’s not your fault kid. It’s complicated to explain to a human.» The demon sipped from her mug that now said “physically speaking”. «Julian, do you know why demons make pacts with humans? What’s in it for them?»
«Oh I- I guess I never really thought about it…»
«You must have heard stories, stereotypes, at least. Like the 10 years contract for your soul, this one’s especially popular, or anything you want in exchange of your first born, didn’t you?»
You shifted in your seat, embarrassed.
«Oh don’t worry, they’re true.» She announced like it was the most common thing ever, which probably was –to them.
Advisor poured tea in her mug a second time before reluctantly continuing.
«Good Luci, why did I signed up for this job- Anyway, Let’s get over with that part!»
She inhaled deeply once again and when you thought she was about to release another flood of profanities she bluntly stated,
«Demons think humans are cute.»
«Well most of them anyway.» She added.
«Wh-» You tried again «Okay, what ?»
«Older demons prefer to ask for a baby, like a pet or a child, depend of the demon. Younger demons on the other hand tend to make a 10 years contract to obtain a sexual partner.»
You blushed like crazy.
«So you’re saying that my classmates-»
«They run away because they’re sexually confused morons, yes.» She let out a sigh like her soul had left her body. «Don’t worry, underage demons aren’t allowed to make deals so you’re pretty safe.»
Miss Advisor got out of her seat and went open the door. You stood up too.
«So, what- what am I supposed to do?» You asked completely disarmed.
She pushed you out of the office with her left arms.
«I don’t know, teenage shit? Now go you’ll be late for next period.» Miss Advisor closed the door and got back to her teapot.
She drank it.
A young girl picks a random person out of an old and outdated phone book and, unaware that the person she picked is already dead, sends a letter to them. Somehow, the letter travels to the world of the dead and, after reading the letter, the person it was written for decides to write back.