you can't get more adorable than him


okay but—if you are shorter than him by a significant amount, which is almost everyone, you are at optimal head pat level and will get head pats. these head pats are more likely if you’re adorable. keiji is a proud founder of the head pats for smols foundation™.

zimeatswaffel  asked:

I want to know more about tilbalt ((sorry if i spelled that wrong)) but i can't find anything. Can you explain him?

I’ve always wanted to tell a planeswalker’s story through my interpretation. thank you for this opportunity. okay kids, story time!

once upon a time there was a necromancer-in-training. his main job was throwing body parts together and trying to reanimate said pile of parts into a living, wheezing creature of semi-organic properties, but he just couldn’t quite get the hang of it. he did however find a fascination in causing said organic creatures pain. he adored the torture aspect of his work. making them scream and writhe thrilled him in probably more ways than one. over time small devils flocked to his laboratory where they would chatter among themselves as he tinkered and worked.

print source: [x]

Dedicating tireless hours to the work set out for him, he grew reclusive and eventually bitter. Frustration started to churn in what was once gleaming delight for the dark practices. One night the devils that had been occupying his residence started whispering to him. 

You seem to like causing trouble. Like us. Why not learn from the masters of pain, you sadistic ninny?

Tibalt was further influenced by the heinous creatures that swarmed in his presence. He started to act recklessly, less than polite tendencies getting the better of him even when away from his lab. These careless actions caused suspicion and rumor to trickle through the town, eventually landing Inquisitors on Tibalt’s doorstep. Repressed rage escaping him like steam from a kettle he spat a dastardly spell at the jerks that kicked down his door and fused with the devils. This of course meant that he was battered with the pain endured by every living, dead, or otherwise creature he ever laid a sadistic hand on – all while being thrown across the multiverse like a nasty kinkshamed handkerchief.

Eventually he regained consciousness on whatever plane he landed on and immediately proceeded to return to Innistrad where he now spends his (pain)free time harassing Sorin Markov;

print source [x]


also here’s his official biography on the Wizards website in case you want something a little more… officially written.

maegonstorm  asked:

Hi there! I can't get enough of your drabbles! I was hoping for some more of Merrill being adorable, perhaps bonding with Fenris, or teasing him and Hawke, or hanging out with Varric. Thanks! You rock! Keep it up!

“ – lots of smooches,” Merrill said, out of the blue.

Varric didn’t look up from his writing, but he smiled, anyway. The Dalish girl’s chatter was a welcome distraction when the story didn’t go the way he wanted it to. Lately, that was more important than ever. “Come again, Daisy?” he asked.

“When you’re writing,” she said, “About Fenris and Hawke? I think that it’s important that you include lots of smooches.”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” Varric said. “Can I ask why?”

Merrill said, “Well don’t you think they both deserve lots of smooches?”

Varric looked up, then. He reached up, rubbing the bride of his nose, and watched her for a long moment. She returned his scrutiny with a smile – bright, sunny – and he set his pen down. He folded his hands atop the table. He waited.

She kept smiling.

“Daisy…” Varric said at last. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but they broke up. Two months ago.”

“Oh that,” she said. She laughed. “You don’t think that’s permanent, do you?”

“Well…it’s looking that way.”

“Oh, no!” she said cheerfully. “They’re in love. They’ll get back together and have lots of smooches. Every night. Write it down.” She reached forward and tapped her finger emphatically against his paper when he failed to do just that. “Come on, do it. Bet you two silver it’ll cure your writer’s block.”

Varric stared a moment longer before he picked up his pen again. He said, “You certainly have a unique perspective on the world.”

Merrill took it as a compliment.

Varric wrote, speaking slowly. “Lots…of…smooches.”

“There! Isn’t that better?” she asked.

Varric stared at the words for a long moment. He smiled. “You know, it does have a certain ring to it.”

feistyvagabond  asked:

OQ + "you can't blame me for being a little surprised."

I’ll admit right now…this was inspired by one of my favorite episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond. :)  I hope you enjoy it!

Popping a Gasket

“Sheriff Locksley. What brings you here this afternoon?”

Her voice rubs his spine like leather on a mission. He takeshis time looking up at her, enjoying every line and curve more than he should,adoring how frustrated she gets when he makes her wait on him for any reason whatsoever.

“Roland and I are selling popcorn for the Boy Scouts,” he answers with a sly grin in her direction. “We’re covering this shift for our troop.”

Her lips tighten as her eyes narrow in his direction, taking in the quality of their display and Roland’s thousand-watt grin that would probably sell a million boxes in thirty minutes flat.

“What brings you out and about on this fine day, Mayor Mills?”

She sizes him up, her eyes narrowing until they’re nearly as tight as her ass. He’s baiting her. She can feel it.

She hates it when he does that.

“Henry and I are selling popcorn, too,” she smiles, feeling her lips twitch in spite of herself. “For our troop, of course.”

Henry waves, Robin nods, and he leans back in his chair, hoping he appears far more casual than he feels. His pants have a way of becoming uncomfortably tight whenever he crosses paths with this woman.

“The least we can do as scoutmasters, eh?” he grins, enjoying the way her eyes spark in his direction.

“The very least,” she hums, wishing he’d shove those dimples in his pockets so they would stop annoying her. “In fact, Henry and I have been the top sellers every year.”

“Outstanding,” Robin croons, leaning forward on his elbows, careful not to knock over the assorted boxes and tins of popcorn they have for sale. “That’s quite an accomplishment. Perhaps you can offer me some pointers since this is my first time.”

He watches in fascination as two perfect brows arch at ninety degree angles.

“I’d be happy to,” she returns, motioning Henry forward, card table in hand. “You being an amateur, as you so aptly put it.”

Ding. Target struck with pinpoint precision. She grins like a cat staking out a rodent convention.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

AU where Spark was the kid Blanche used to babysit back when they were younger, and who went away to go live with his distant relatives when his parents died, only to come back as professor Willow's youngest new RA fresh outta college. Candela and Blanche eventually develop some sort of adorable parent-child relationship with him UwU

👌👌 👌 💯 👌

Spark: “Hold on, I gotta let my parents know.”
“Er, aren’t you…”
[texting, doesn’t respond]
Spark, a moment later: “Okay sweet, science parents are okay with it.”
Friend: “Who? What.”

Blanche: “Never speak to me or my son again.”
Rando: “… He can’t be more than ten years younger than you.”
(Spark’s not really upset but knows he should just let them be when they get like this.)