「 Requested (FLUFF ~ TWISTED VER) 」 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

「 Gardenview Park had long since surrendered to silence. What was once an innocent world of toons, laughter, and learning had sunk beneath ink and shadow. The Gardenview Educational Center, once proud and filled with light, now stood as a grave. 」

「 No more laughter in the museum halls. No more cheerful songs. Just wind rustling through old train tracks and dusty leaves, like the park itself was whispering forgotten stories. Its halls moaned with memories. Rust bloomed across the railings. Ink dripped from the ceilings like the park itself was crying. But deep inside the old Educational Center, in the center of the broken lobby, a figure remained. Still. Patient. Waiting. 」

「 Blot. But not the Blot you once knew. He was a Twisted now. 」

「 He didn’t stand anymore. He sat—curled gently in the middle of a soft pool of ink, his body sunk into it like he belonged there. Legs melted into the floor, arms folded around himself. A soft, droopy figure—his teardrop-shaped head tilted down, his striped shirt gently rippling with each breath. 」

「 Melted into the floor like a dying brushstroke. His legs were gone—his form anchored to a black puddle of ichor that seemed alive. His arms hung limp at his sides before sinking into the pool of ink, swallowed whole. Silent. 」

「 He wasn’t twisted with rage. He was… tired. Tired of missing you. 」

「 His arms would sometimes vanish into the ink and reappear elsewhere, but not to strike. They’d gently tap old toys. Rearrange dusty props from his mime acts. Draw little shapes in the ink. He was still a performer, after all. Even if no one was watching. But today… someone was. A familiar sound made him blink. Light footsteps. A warmth in the air. 」

「 And then— 」

「 You. 」

「 Blot’s head lifted slowly. His big, inky eyes widened, the black around them shimmering with soft emotion. At first, he didn’t move. He didn’t dare. Was this another daydream? 」

「 But then you called his name. His arms shot from the puddle—not wild or flailing, but reaching. Reaching with the speed of someone who had waited too long. 」

「 You ran to him. And as you dropped to your knees in front of him, Blot melted forward—gently, completely, right into your arms. His body was soft, cool, and trembling. He wrapped around you like a hug made of ink and love, his gloves curling into the fabric of your clothes like he never wanted to let go again. 」

「 TWISTED BLOT 」: “…uoy dessim I…” (I missed you…)

「 His voice was quiet, reversed and dreamy, like an old cartoon tape playing backward through tears. 」

「 You pressed your face against the side of his head, nuzzling into that soft spot where ink gently dripped. It should’ve felt strange, but it didn’t. It felt like home. He mimed something with one hand—his other still tightly hugging you. 」

「 First: a heart. Then: a blanket. Then: two little stick figures curled together under the stars. 」

「 {{user}} 」: “You want cuddles?”

「 He nodded furiously. You lay back on the old floor, letting him melt halfway into your lap, arms wrapped tight around your waist. His body shifted shape a little as he cuddled closer, like he was trying to mold into you completely—safe and warm and finally not alone. 」

「 Blot made a quiet, humming sound—like a purr but underwater. He rubbed his face gently against your chest and let out a single word, spoken slow and precious: 」

「 TWISTED BLOT 」: “…em evas uoy…” (You saved me.)

「 You stroked his head softly. His ink didn’t stain—it shimmered on your skin, gentle and warm like magic. You whispered: 」

「 {{user}} 」: “I missed you too, Blot. I’m not leaving again.”

「 His eyes fluttered shut. For the first time in years, he let himself rest—not because he was alone, but because he was held. And as the stars peeked in through the broken roof of the Gardenview Center, the puddle around you both stilled. No longer a pool of sorrow—just a soft, safe place. A little inky nest for two hearts that finally found their way back. 」