#Blood Ties AU

[tigorrrr]

𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗧𝗶𝗲𝘀 || 𝔗𝔦𝔭 𝔒𝔣 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℑ𝔠𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔤

Banners made by, and AU belongs to @another-vampire-au

[first] [previously]

"— and they became eternal friends, mayhaps to this very day."

"曾祖母..." a little girl mumbled over the sleeve of her nightgown, peering at the elder with never wavering, childish fascination at how beautiful her grandmother is.

"Yes, Chizu-chan?" the wrinkle-less woman inched closer to the futon.

A frown creased underneath wispy bangs of jet-black locks. "You made that up, that could not have happened."

Seldomly smiling, Diya raked aside some of the locks from the child's face, behind her ear. And Chizuru wasn't wrong to think there was more to it, but she can't be telling the naughties to her seven-year-old grandchild. She also admits she's not that great of a storyteller. "Were you there?"

"... No..." Chizuru mumbled in a wilted tone and reached for the dainty hand that would a regular senior envy to have once more, she placed the palm upon her face and the thumb began to caress the front of the rosy cheek.

There was a stark contrast of their skin tones that may never cease to entrrtain Diya to see, she likes to be and feel different from others. Something that the modern society began to accept less and less.

Diya leaned closer and susurated. "Then how can you be sure it is not how it went?"

The child frowned once more before springing to sit up. "That monster would have ended Shirayuki-san's life, it would not want to be her friend nor return her shoe! And what about her family? What happened to them?"

"How would I know? I was not there~" she cooed playfully and tucked her grandchild with the blankets under the child's chin and Chizuru didn't try to protest much.

But Chizuru was not about to get dismissed like that. Again. "But grandmaaaaa, there is more to that story. Why won't you tell me before you go?"

Diya tried not to break into a fit of giggles at her adorable pout. "... No, but you can finish that story when you'll tell it to someone else. You can change anything about it, if you so wish, as long as it has a happy ending."

Chizuru gazes up at her grandmother with disappointment and those big sad eyes would make one imagine it's a hamster looking at them.

She sighed, mentally armoring herself up against the attack at her soul before dismissing her grandchild with a heavy heart. "Darling, it's too late. I don't want your aunt to come and make fuss over you still being awake when you have school tomorrow."

Chizuru took her time with response, eyes filted around with a frown on her face. "Minamoto-san is not my mom, though."

With a wavered smile, Diya took her hand from the girl's face to caress her head instead. "Well, your parents would've wanted you to listen to your mother's sister, and so do I. Please, be a good child."

She thought about it for a moment before complying. "... Fine."

Diya smiled and leaned down to peck her forehead, when she was about to stand little hands grasped at her skirt.

"Don't go... Great-grandma... Please."

Sadness stung deep inside Diya's heart. She wondered if Chizuru knows she'll never return or has yet to figure that out as she'll age up and comes to an acception that her grandmother will not return. Saying goodbye like this is already hard, and if Diya would try to properly explain it might make things a little harder for the both of them.

"Everyone eventually leaves, 亲爱的. They have to." Diya still tried to smile despite the heartache beneath her breast.

"And me too?"

With a deep breath, Diya nodded. "One day, yes. But that is so far ahead, just enjoy your life as it is with the ones you love."

Diya's great-grandchild, Sagae Chizuru, is a smart girl with a bright future ahead. That is all she wished for when she had last seen the entity. A happy ending for Chizuru that Diya could not have, not even Chizuru's grandmother whom she took under her wing to care for only to leave this mortal plane too early and same goes to Chizuru's parents — well, maybe it isn't such a tragic end if she squints one eye.

Chizuru responded with a nod and Diya offered her one last smile before turning the nightlight off. "Goodnight, Chizu-chan."

"Nighty night..." the girl yawned and watched her great-grandmother leave before switching to lay on her other side of her bed, facing the window. She had a hard time falling asleep that night.

Diya sat outside on a bench in a central park around midnight and there was barely anyone out there other than stray pets. She observed the breath she puffed past her lips. She had spent more than half her lifetime at a freezing mountain, this little cold is something she barely feels.

It was a beautiful night, last one she'll ever experience and Diya made sure it was worth her time.

All of a sudden she felt a presence of something that is hard to explain, they are somewhere around her but Diya knew if she were to look she wouldn't have found anyone there because they didn't want to be found just yet.

The air became heavy, pressuring her lungs and it was a little difficult to breathe.

He's here.

A figure which could pass as a human being at a fleeting glance cassually sat next to her and Diya's breath hitched as she had trouble filling her lungs before the atmosphere stilled and turned back to normal.

At the presence of a Prince, her mind was reeling in slight dizziness and she felt a little nauseous. It's managable now though, the first time she was in his presence Diya fainted and the demon, unbothered, just waited for her to wake up for about thirty minutes.

"Are you ready then, witch?"

The albino woman turned to face an old acquaintance of hers, searching in his playful orbs that seem to be floating in sclera-less eyesockets in this darkness for.. something. "Will I be seeing my brothers?"

Diya partly hoped she'd also see her lover, but then thought she'd prefer to know he was taken to Heaven. Baraka deserves that much for everything that he had to endure because of a cursed bite he did not ask for.

"Only one way to find out." Mammon offered her a lopsided grin and leaned an elbow on his thigh. Admittedly, modern clothes do look a little out of sorts for a demon she knew most of her life to roam naked.

With a polite smile, she leaned back a bit for more space. "Pardon me, I don't quite trust you, darling."

The age-stunned woman was not thrilled to meet the demon once more when their last encounter had ended with her brother's unfortunately demise.

Bi-han, although cuel and uncompassionate at times, had made a sacrifice at the darkest hour. He finished what his sister refused to complete.

Mammon set the price which she accepted. He wanted mortal souls, the ones that - although living in faith - are rooted too deep with darkness. And quite a demanding number at that, until the day's sunset approaches.

The demon looked forward at a fountain from a distance, snorting. "That does hurt one's friend's feelings.. But I should think you insane if you don't. Mortals with your gift have a better treatment at our infernal home, I can promise you that much."

It was pure luck that few hours before the immortal's visit the Vampires Hunters showed at the Lin-Kuei gate, and they became the sacrificial goats but it came with high stakes.

Hunters attacked just a few hours after dawn and tried to smoke out Diya's family like rats and she felt as useless as she was. Liu Kang of clan Huǒ did not came to aid them, they did not show up days after either and although Diya does not wish to ever be bitter towards anyone if she can help it but she was heartbroken to know that her clan mattered so little to those whom they served for so long.

"Whatever retribution I must face for my wrong doings, I shall." after all, she did kill hundred of inoccent beings for her greed and selfishness.

"That at peace with it, huh? You truly ready?" the Imp-hybrid in human-ish disguise stood with little to no effort as if gravity wasn't that bothersome and stood right in front of her.

Diya hummed and lost herself in thought for just a moment as she asked that same question herself.

Her brothers, all three of them and all of the Lin-Kuei, secured another hundred years of immortality and a chance to live anew. And she did. But she carried that guilt with it. First, the former Grandmaster, now the rest of her family. All gone because of her weakness.

That faithful day, years ago, she had nowhere else to go other than to the Tarkatans who hid quite well from the Vampire Hunters, and after a little hostility and uneasiness of her presence they let her stay. Although constantly on the move from the Hunters, Diya did not mind, she always wished to travel, live outside the safety of her gilded cage.

Tragedy had unfortunately plagued the clan's following years after that, one clansman after another succumbed to their vampiric disease, their bodies were not capable to withstand it longer. Or more precisely, their blood types was not suited for their curse and it was only a matter of time before they'd be released to their bittersweet deaths. Diya learned that when she joined a medical profession as a doctor to finally take a part in society she was cut off from for centuries.

Baraka was the last one that stayed with her until he, too, passed away. Were it not for Chizuru's grandmother, a pregnant teenager she was taking care of at that time, Diya would have ended up all alone.

Today, though, she felt like she had lived quite enough of numerous centuries with the Prince of Greed's generosity.

Diya Grau does fear death like any other person but she also knows when a story has to end.

"I am ready." her arm stretched to him willingly.

With a grin of an imp, Mammon held tightly onto her ivory hand of silky flesh before they dissolved into flames that did not burn either of them as they disappeared off the face of Mortal Plane.

🎶O' Death - Until Dawn🎶

[paintedcrows]

they make me feel unwell

(continued: Stan & Young Ford)

[dictatortirah]

Damn he really did dat huh

[radiance1]

"Mom, Dad. I have something to tell you."

Danny said, twin rings going up and down his body respectively as he went ghost. Then back as he turned back to Danny.

"Tada..?" He said, shaking his hands after he was finished.

Jack and Maddie sat silent on the other side of the table, eyes wide as they just... Stared at him. His mom's hands were over her mouth, while his dad's mouth just hung open.

Jack pushed himself away from the table, getting up and walking out of the room.

"Honey!" Maddie said, turning to look in his direction. She briefly glanced between Danny and the doorway, before getting up herself and following after Jack.

Danny looked down, placing his hands down on the table and interlocking them as an uneasy smile graced his face.

'Fuck.' He thought. 'I should've done this when Jazz was here.'

Now, Danny isn't scared of his parents per se. Having escaped from them multiple times up until this very moment, and having fought and won over ghosts that embodied concepts toughened him up considerably.

But, just because he isn't scared doesn't mean he isn't uneasy.

He really should have waited for Jazz-

"Danny," His mother's voice broke him out of his thoughts as she walked back into the room and took her seat. She rubbed a hand against her temple, looking down at the table. "Your father... Needs a moment. Just to collect his thoughts, alright?"

"Uh, yea I understand." Danny pulled his hands back and down into his lap.

Maddie gave the movement a brief glance, but chose not to comment.

"Listen, this..." Maddie released a breath, placing her hands down on the table and interlocking her fingers. "Is news that neither of us ever expected, and frankly it is hard to believe that you aren't just a ghost who took the body of my son-"

Danny's breath hitched.

"-But I want, no." Her eyes hardened, forcibly releasing the tension from her shoulders. "I need to give you a chance. This, a chance. Before I do something I might regret." There was something in her eyes that Danny couldn't recognize, and he fought to keep looking into her eyes.

"Th-That's good." He said, bringing a hand up to rub against the back of his neck. "Yea. Good. Good." He couldn't help but look down, digging his fingers into his thigh.

Fuck. Why was he trembling?

He's had way, way worse than this. Survived way worse than this. It's just his parents. Just his regular old, maybe a bit hyper fixated and ghost hating parents that threatened to dissect him on various occasions and tried to do the same to other ghosts-

Danny dug his fingers a bit deeper, forcibly exhaling.

Just. His parents.

"How long." His head snapped back up to Maddie as she spoke, it didn't seem to be a question. Something she seemed to realize as she softened slightly. "How long, have you been a ghost?" She asked, quietly, softly.

There was something there that Danny, despite everything, couldn't identify.

"Since," He started, before swallowing when his mouth felt dry all of a sudden. "Since you guys. Um. Built the portal." His fingers dug into his neck, and he felt something wet under his nails and a stinging on his neck before he pulled away and put it into his lap. "And, you know. Thought it didn't work."

Maddie's breath hitched, and her eyes screwed shut. Interlocked hands tightening on the table as her lip quivered.

"I..." She began, slowly. Voice trembling before she smoothed it back out, trying to restore some semblance of calm. "I see." She exhaled, slowly. Still keeping her eyes closed.

It... Hurt. To see her like this. To see his mother so shaken up.

He shouldn't have told them.

But it seemed to be going well.

Was it even worth it?

He hopes it keeps going well.

He should have just kept it a secret.

"The portal." She finally began again when her hands stopped shaking. "It opened on you, didn't it? And then you-" She paused, trying to get the words out. "You died. Didn't you?"

Danny nodded, before remembering that her eyes were still closed. "Y-eA." He said, voice breaking at the end.

He was glad her eyes were closed, just because she couldn't see the embarrassment on his face.

"I was hoping you would say no." Maddie said, reopening her eyes and looking down at her hands. "I so, so desperately want to believe this to be some trick by Phantom or- well, you. I want this to be a prank, or some nightmare, and to just wake up and know that you're still alive-"

"Well, I am." Danny shrugged, eyes darting towards a nearby wall. "Technically, half and half, y'know?" He said, making a so-so gesture.

"Are you?" She asked, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked up at him. "That would explain why you don't look like a ghost, but-"

She paused, eyes widening.

Okay, now this Danny could recognize.

Recognition and horror.

"Oh... Oh God." She looked back down hands breaking apart as one covered her mouth. She shook in her seat, hunching in on herself. "We-We chased you. Shot at you and said we would rip you apart." Her eyes grew wet, tears slipping down her cheeks. "We wanted to dissect you and said it in front of your face."

"Well, technically it would be a vivisection-"

Maddie closed her eyes, a sob ripping from her throat.

Danny shut his mouth.

Danny watched as his mother cried on the opposite side of the table. At this moment, for some reason, she looked so far from him. Like he could reach out, climb over the table, and still not reach her. Like there was some great, unfathomable distance, between them.

He looked down at the table, at his hands. One of them, the one he dug into his thigh, felt wet. He pulled away his hand, and saw... Well, blood.

Weird.

He didn't feel anything.

"I'm sorry." His mother sobbed, and for some reason her voice seemed so quiet even as he looked up at her. He could see her, yet why did she seem so far away? "I'm so, so sorry." She said.

And Danny...

Danny didn't know what to do.

[reneefied]

hi sorry for disappearing I’ve been cooking for a few days…

anyways this is my new Jane Doe design + her AU counterpart.

If you have any questions about this AU, its called “The Truth,” and im happy to answer any questions about it,, im still working on the other characters.

(poem creds to hayden)

Some other Jane related content including my Circus AU Jane below :^)

[peaches2217]

Summer Rain

AO3 link!

~~~

There’s nothing quite like falling ten feet to the ground and landing flat on one’s back to bring a person back into reality. When he came to, Mario’s first reaction was relief. Rest, finally. Everything burned. His throat, his lungs, his muscles, his stomach. His ears rang and his head spun and his vision created doubles of every last block and obstacle overhead, and at long last, he was free to simply lay in the grass and observe passively.

As with all good things, it didn't last.

Get up.

The all-too-familiar voice, maybe his own and maybe some divine call from the universe, repeated these words in his head, but he couldn’t make his muscles obey. He could hardly breathe; air returned to him in unsteady gasps, and with each one, his short-lived relief melted further and further into frustration.

Get up. Something gurgled in his throat that was neither air nor bile, and the taste of copper coated his tongue. Get up. How had he slipped? He’d run this training gauntlet hundreds of times, if not thousands, in the past weeks. Had he grown complacent? Get up. This was no time for complacency. No time for failure. Get up, get up, get up.

“Mario!” He registered the cry of his name the same way he registered the pain in his spine or the ache in his limbs or the muted yet near-constant growling of his gut: with little more than passing acknowledgement. He knew he was hurt. He knew he was hungry. He knew someone was calling out to him. He didn’t care. His only concern was get up, get up, get up, sit up, stand up, get back to training.

Get back to her.

“Mario?”

Just as soon as he’d pulled himself to his knees, dizziness overtook Mario, and he barely caught himself on his hands, his arms shaking from the effort to support his weight. Her voice. All it took was the ghost of her voice to sap his fight, drain the furor that fueled him, until he was empty, empty, empty.

She wasn’t— he knew she wasn’t— and yet she— she sounded so near—

“Oh, Mario,” Peach sighed, pressing a gloved hand to her cheek, “what am I going to do? If I have to sit through one more unproductive commission on import tax rates, I think I’m going to scream.”

Mario chuckled sympathetically. “So I’m guessing third time wasn’t the charm after all?”

“I thought surely the senators would be just as sick of all the arguing as I am by now. Sadly, I’m fairly certain they enjoy it.” Another sigh. “So a fourth commission has been scheduled for Thursday.”

Thursday. Mario wracked his head for upcoming happenings, possible excuses, any circumstance he could twist in her favor, and he found it in short order.

“Hmm… it sure is a shame you won’t be there for that meeting, Princess.”

Peach halted in her tracks, and Mario stopped alongside her, meeting her confusion with pointed nonchalance.

“I… won’t be?”

“You didn’t forget, did you? That play in Mushroom City you were invited to? That’s Thursday night, yeah?”

Peach shook her head. “Mario, I’d hardly call a letter written in crayon by a child begging me to attend their Kindergarten theatre production an ‘invitation.’ More of a… um…” A pause. The realization clicked into place, her bright eyes glowing ever brighter in the twilight, and she graced Mario with a sly, cheerful smile. “Well, how many children have the courage to write to the castle directly? It would be rude to turn such a thoughtful invitation down.”

“My thoughts exactly!” He nudged her side, winking up at her. “Now, I know you’d rather sit and listen to grouchy old Toads shout over each other all day, but we all have to make sacrifices sometimes, yeah?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” A very un-regal giggle slipped her lips, juvenile in its conniving yet ethereal all the same, and Mario couldn’t help but feel especially proud of himself. “So we’ll meet at the carriage hold Thursday at dawn, then? Plenty enough time to escape before Toadsworth catches on.”

Her proposal didn’t surprise him; it had become customary, after all, to act as her guard any time she ventured beyond the palace walls. This made her invitation no less sacred to him. “You can count on me, Princess.”

Peach took a moment to breathe in the fresh spring evening, exhale her worries, and as their walk resumed, her hand found his, small and light but present and real and warm. “Oh, Mario,” she laughed, “you’re my hero!”

You’re my hero…

Another rush of oxygen hit his brain, and she was gone once more. Memories of golden hair in the waning light of sunset were washed out in smudges of green and brown and red — his fingers digging into the earth, damp from a recent summer rain, a trickle of blood dripping from his bottom lip onto the backs of his hands.

Some hero he was. 

A familiar pressure welled within his chest, and he huffed in relief. Anger. It made his heart pump harder and brought his surroundings back into focus and flooded him with unbearable energy, and he was finally able to clamor to his feet, spitting blood so he could breathe properly. Turning towards the gauntlet’s nearest springboard, he wiped his sleeve over his mouth and let that rage consume him once more, let himself believe again that it wasn’t rage at all, but hope. Hope in its rawest, most painful form.

She was counting on him. He would bring her home. He would have pleasant evening walks in the gardens with her again, he would laugh with her over tea and cakes, he would ensure no similar misfortune ever befell her again. Maybe he would even tell her that he loved her, just so he could say he no longer held any secrets from her. And until that day came, he would train and train and train until no force, earthly or cosmic, could stand in his way.

How could you let this happen?

That fragile illusion of hope burst into flames, its fire coursing through Mario’s veins, but now that he was on his feet again, he made no further effort to fool himself. With a final, sharp breath, he lunged forward—

“Basta così!”

Something caught his left wrist, and the unexpected intrusion snuffed Mario’s fire, like water tossed on a blazing bed of coals. He clenched his jaw and smoldered uselessly for a moment, quivering with unspent energy, giving his captor a chance to free him without provocation. The grasp ensnaring him only tightened.

“Lasciami andare, Lu.” He kept his voice as steady as possible, deathly quiet and low, because he knew it would shake if he raised it any louder, and he couldn’t afford to be perceived as weak.

“No.” Luigi’s voice was equally unwavering. “I’ve let this go on long enough. You’re coming home.”

Mario scoffed. Oh, now his timid little brother was choosing to stand his ground. Now, of all times, for all purposes—! He lurched forward to free himself. He didn’t have time for such games.

Luigi moved with him easily, and before Mario could reestablish his footing, he was yanked backwards by the arm so hard that his vision went blurry and his legs briefly gave out beneath him.

But he didn’t have time to collapse. Luigi powered ahead, and Mario was forced to twist his body in the same direction and stumble along behind him, and by the time his surroundings stopped shifting they were well past the athletic center’s gate and into the streets of Toad Town.

What in the Eight Realms was going on? His brother was strong, but he was stronger. It should have been easy to pull free or at least anchor himself and force an impasse, but he wouldn’t slow down.

“Let me go, Luigi,” he repeated in their mother tongue, half so the dozens of Toads craning their stubby necks as he was dragged past couldn’t eavesdrop and half because his grasp on the English language was one of the first things to go when he was upset. 

“You really think I’m that useless?” Luigi didn’t even look over his shoulder as he responded in the same tongue, yet his voice pierced through the ambiance of the streets. “I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Another white-hot burst of fury flared within Mario, and he tried once again to break free (once again, to no avail). Useless? A “missing friend”? A princess — their Princess! — was abducted by a notoriously homicidal warlord who promised to kill her and seize her kingdom by force unless he was met with unconditional surrender, and all his brother cared about was how he was perceived? How these events affected him?

Mario was the only living person with any chance of bringing her home safely, or at least alive. He’d devoted himself to that cause wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Fought and trained and redefined himself over the past two months while waiting for royal spies to figure out where she was actually being held. He’d never thought Luigi to be so selfish, that he’d stand in his way. That he’d sooner trade Peach’s life for his. Did she really mean that little to him? The very thought nauseated him. Or maybe those were hunger pangs.

They arrived at their shared cottage in short order, and Mario spit one last mouthful of blood into the grass before he could be dragged onto the porch and through the door. This wasn’t just selfish. This was betrayal of the highest order. 

Luigi all but tossed him inside, and only then did he let go. Mario seethed at his green-and-blue-clad back as he shut and locked the door, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly, stimulating the once-restricted blood flow. Betrayed by the last person he would ever have suspected. The one person who should have been supporting him, who he’d thought already was supporting him before today. He held his internal fire close at bay, ready to make his disappointment and disapproval clear, and with a heavy sigh, Luigi turned to face him—

“This isn’t your fault, Mario.”

Mario’s belligerence fizzled out. Where there was once fire, there was now ice, still and cold.

“...What?”

“This isn’t your fault.” Luigi enunciated each word carefully as he approached his older brother. “N-no one blames you for this except for you. So you’re not proving anything to anyone by torturing yourself, bro, okay?”

For a long moment, all Mario could do was gape in bewilderment. Not once since the Princess’ abduction had a word been uttered about blame. There was no need, he'd just as quickly assumed: anyone with two functioning brain cells knew exactly who was to blame, and verbalizing accusations wouldn’t get her home any faster, so he bore his cross with a heavy heart and his head held high. 

Even Luigi had never spoken up on the matter. Mario just assumed that meant he agreed. Why bother kicking someone that’s already down?

“I-I…” Mario swallowed. No. No, he was lying. Reality was sinking in and he was lying in a last-ditch effort to defend what hadn’t already been lost. He knew just as well as Mario that… and yet he…

Selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“I’m her guard, Luigi,” he finally answered, and unpleasant but ever-familiar heat rose once more within him, making his face and ears tingle. “It’s my job to protect her! Literally my job!”

“Yeah, during the day! But you’re acting like she was nabbed under your watch! You’re acting like everyone expects you to be on guard twenty-four-seven!” He drew closer to lay a hand on Mario’s left shoulder; what should have been comfortable and familiar instead felt foreign and cumbersome. “The truth is, you were exactly where you were supposed to be when it happened: in bed, conked out.”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have hit as hard as those words.

Mario jerked away from his brother’s touch, nostrils flared, breath coming to him far too quickly now. If he grit his teeth any tighter, he was certain they’d crack. Yes, he’d been asleep that night. He’d protected his Princess like always during the day and left her to fend for herself at sundown and he’d never forgive himself for it. So much for not kicking someone while they’re down.

“Thanks,” he huffed. “Very helpful reminder.”

“Mario, that’s not what—” Luigi sagged backwards, his eyes rolling to the ceiling in exasperation, as if he was the one who’d been slighted, and he cursed beneath his breath before refocusing. “She was never your sole responsibility. Everyone knows that but you. And no one wants to see you run yourself into the ground like this. Th-they trust you! They love you! Seeing how much guilt you're drowning in, seeing how badly you’re hurting, that hurts them, and—”

A deep, shaking breath. Mario tapped his foot impatiently, his fists clenched.

“A-and it hurts me too!" Luigi finally confessed. "Mario, you’re not the only victim here! How do you think I’ve been handling all of this?”

“Forget about that!” Mario fired back. “Just imagine what she’s going through! Can you think about something other than yourself for once and look at the bigger picture?!”

Alarms sounded deep in the recesses of his brain, warning signals, crying a mantra of Too far, too far, too far. He didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care.

“She wouldn’t want this either! If she was here—”

That was the final straw. Putting words in the Princess’ mouth— what little patience or composure Mario still held, already stretched thin, snapped. 

“Well she’s not!” He stamped his foot like a child throwing a tantrum, grasping Luigi’s arm and forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “Don’t— don’t you dare tell me what she’d say or what she’d do! You don’t have that right! Because you’re not her, and she’s not…”

Mario blinked. Had… had Luigi always looked this tired? His eyes, normally so cheerful and blue, appeared dull and gray, wide with regret and brimming with unshed tears. And there were bags under those eyes too, and overgrown flyaways poking through his normally well-groomed mustache, and…

“...here.” All of his bravado, all of his energy, left him as he whispered that final word.

How long had it been since he’d fulfilled his role as the older brother? Peach was Luigi’s friend too. He was every bit as much Mario's responsibility as Peach was.

“I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Only in the ensuing stillness did Mario realize how terribly he shook. He felt both weightless and impossibly leaden, cold and clammy, trembling not in outrage or determination, but something far meeker, far more pathetic: fear.

He was no hero. He was an idiot who’d failed someone he claimed to love and was desperate to make things right, no matter the personal cost. He was a useless brother that dealt with his own inadequacies by lashing out at those who cared for him most. He was nothing.

“Weegee…”

Luigi swallowed, taking a deep, slow breath before responding. “Martyring yourself isn’t the answer. I mean, think for a minute here. You can’t save her if you get yourself killed first.”

It overtook Mario again, a wave of unwelcome emotion, and his knees wobbled beneath him, threatening to buckle.

“Then… then what do you suggest I do? Huh? Clearly you have more answers than I do! So tell me what to do!”  He let go of Luigi’s arms to grasp his overall straps and pull him down, searching his face for those fabled answers. There was no spite in his words or his actions. He shouted at and jostled his brother not in anger, but in pure helplessness. “Tell me what to do!”

The uncertainty etched into Luigi’s face didn’t go away completely, but he buried it beneath something harder, more determined. He braced his gloved hands against Mario’s shoulders, grounding and steady.

“I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do,” he said, his voice low yet firm. “You’re going to sit right there on that couch, or on the floor, or wherever you feel like, and you’re gonna cry and scream and get all of this pent-up anger out of your system. And then — look at me, Mario, listen!” He jostled the elder brother back, shaking his shoulders. “Then you’re going to eat something. Okay?” He smiled then, the strain of it contorting his face into some pitiful mimicry of humor. “We can’t have you wasting away when the Princess sees you again, yeah? What would she say?”

Mario’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly swollen shut.

What would she say? Maybe she would rush forward and cup his cheeks, demanding to know what happened and if he was alright, as if he was the one who had been swept away in the dead of night. Maybe she would be so exhausted and so weakened that she didn’t notice; maybe she would only have the strength to smile as he took her battered body into his arms, her face pale but her eyes vibrant. Maybe her gaze would be glassy and there would be nothing left to hold but an empty shell that had once been his best friend, her fate sealed the moment she’d chosen to place her trust in him.

Or maybe he would die long before he reached her. If only he could trust anyone else to save her, he would have been perfectly fine with that outcome. It was the least he deserved. But that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? What would become of her then? What would become of Luigi?

He would be free of his suffering, and it would fall directly onto their shoulders instead.

How could you let this happen?

The breath trapped in his throat forced its way back out, some mix between a cough and a hiccup, and finally his knees gave out. He held on tighter and sunk his face into his twin’s shirt collar, and he tried to apologize, he tried to beg forgiveness, but the only sound he could produce was a breathless, almost primal whine.

“Ecco.” Luigi’s voice cracked yet remained soft as he sank to the ground with him, cradling his head close. “Sfogati. Ti sono vicino, fratello.”

Mario’s intended response came out once more as a whine. Ti voglio bene. Ho paura. Aiutami. Ti prego aiutami. Each effort to speak proved increasingly futile until he gave up entirely, surrendering to the wordless screams and sobs and tears his overworked, underfed body forced from him. And Luigi just held him, his fingers brushing through his hair as he fell apart.

Thunder rumbled distantly outside, heralding another summer rain.

~~~

“I’m sorry.”

By the time Mario was able to speak, he still didn’t have much to show for it; his voice was too hoarse to do anything but whisper, and the pounding ache in his head prevented him from doing even that very well.

Luigi shushed him, readjusting his head in his lap. “Just relax.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” he continued anyway, curling into himself tighter, soaking in as much of his brother’s body heat as he could. “Or useless.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t have any right to go off on you like that.”

“In your shoes, I doubt I’d be handling things much better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you. Now we’re even.”

This remark wasn’t quite enough to make Mario smile, but it did make him feel lighter, if only a bit. From his spot on the floor, he watched the rain patter against the living room window, dark and dreary and soothing. With the rain outside and Luigi’s fingers still combing through his curls, he felt properly sleepy for the first time in ages, a feeling far more pleasant than the exhaustion that had plagued him for eight, coming up on nine weeks.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d slept in his own bed? Most nights he’d find the nearest wall to slump against or a decent patch of grass to crash in when he couldn’t make his body cooperate any longer. And when was the last time he’d had a proper meal? Luigi had forced him to sit down and eat a packet of crackers a day or two ago, Toad brought him soup sometime last week and refused to leave until he downed at least half of it, but…

“Weegee?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

The hand in his hair stilled, and the response came after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Well duh. Of course you are.” His voice wavered, yet Mario could tell he was smiling. “What’d’ya want? We’ve got plenty enough to make anything. Don’t hold back.”

Mario hummed, closing his eyes. Making that choice on his own was a mental process he didn’t have the resources for. “Surprise me.”

Luigi vocalized his approval, but he didn’t move to stand quite yet. Instead, the hand in Mario’s hair found his own hand, and he gladly took it, permitting himself that comfort at least.

“Hey Mario? Can you… promise me something first?”

Mario nodded, a small and rapid movement of his head. He knew what was coming: Promise me you’ll eat everything I put in front of you. Promise me you’ll take a bath. Promise me you’ll get into clean clothes and sleep on a bed tonight. He was all too ready to agree. It was the least he owed his long-suffering brother.

“When you save the Princess… promise me you’ll come home too. Okay?”

Mario’s eyes snapped back open. The rain still fell against the window before him, steady and unending.

Easy enough to promise, at least in theory. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to make more pleasant memories with his friends, with his love, with his brother especially. There were so many adventures he still wanted to go on. So many things he wanted to see and do. But if worst came to worst, and he had to lay his life down to save Peach’s… he’d already made up his mind.

“This isn’t your fault.”

He took in a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaled it slowly through his lips. Luigi was strong and selfless. He’d had the strength to lie just so he could ease Mario’s woes. The least Mario could do was offer up a comforting lie of his own.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, and if maybe he held Luigi’s hand a bit too tightly, that was okay. “Yeah, I think I can promise that.”

[abluescarfonwaston]

Sorry just thinking about Phoenix and Iris. How he swallowed glass for her. How she didn't know. Turned away from it and covered her eyes. Couldn't bare to see what she knew her sister was going to do. Do to him. She knitted a sweater for him. It fits just right. He swallows glass and stares at her as she stands over a charred and smoking body. As she screams and points at him. Watches as he is hauled away. Can't even fathom what's going on. Why.

He swallows glass for her.

And I just can't help but think what would have happened if she'd asked him to leave instead. That last night before Dollie became Dahlia. If her shaking hand had reached for the necklace one last time. Shaking and pale. If he'd caught her hand then and asked what was wrong. How the words would clog in her throat but if she begged- if she asked- that they run away together, he would have.

He swallows glass for her.

Surely he'd have been willing to run away.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

I need to see mr interrogator tied up!

You don’t understand

I NEED THEM

They’re so fine

the people have spoken

(forgot to tag the test track crowd I am sorry)

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @suspicious-whumping-egg , @cryptidwritings @whumpflash , @painsandconfusion , @grizzlie70 , @bloodsweatandpotato , @ladyblogofficialreporter @whumper-soot , @poeticagony

[smallishobeans]

Songbird's Blood Grian!

Okay, I might have a small addiction to Songbirds' Blood by @mochiwrites !! First drawing on this device, and I am still getting used to it, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to draw Songbird Grian in his held captive era (again)

(Ps This art was inspired by a fanfic called Nightlife/Songbirds Blood by @mochiwrites I would recommend checking it out on ao3 :D )

[elfdragon12]

How Osmund "Ozzie" Lourd/Overlord came to become... Perhaps a little focused with Morgan Trayton/Megatron and joined his rebellion. Surely, this will have no negative repercussions!

Megatron and Starscream, along with the Ties That Bind AU by @artsy-hobbitses

[gomzdrawfr]

[oc rambles - civillian au]

Cooking when you don’t know the ingredients (aka pre-research on a topic you have zero clue on)

Idk what kind of job Price will be, but Im thinking something more niche, like idk a tour guide(for some reason), or forest ranger(mmm), journalist? Maybe he’s travelling around documenting? Office jobs???? An editor??? A bar owner???

Much to think, but im very excited to draw non-traumatized Raven, she’s a lot more soft, less intimidating…she’s happy…URGH SHE’S SMILING….

[tigorrrr]

𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗧𝗶𝗲𝘀 || ℭ𝔬𝔩𝔡 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔪 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

Banners made by, and AU belongs to @another-vampire-au

[continuation] [last]

"Peace?" he scoffed, his voice a raspy growl and his permanent sneer creased even deeper when he found the embedded emblem on her uniform. Just for seeing that symbol he wanted to claw it out of her breast as if it would leave a print on her ivory skin nontheless. "Lin-Kuei, seeking peace? That's like a viper seeking friendship with a rabbit."

The air crackled with tension the moment Diya stepped into the Tarkatan's lair beneath an imposing mountain. A symphony of guttural growls and the clinking of metal echoed through the cavern, the scent of blood heavy in the air.

The stories she had heard about this group of savage half-vampires, worse than those of Taira clan, were enough to make even the bravest of souls quake in fear. The Tarkatans were known for their barbarous ways and their disfigured appearances, a side-effect of their immortality. Impure vampires that other pure-blooded vampires think of as some bastarded ghouls.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced a smile, her gaze fixed on the pale figure perched on a throne made from bones and pelts. The guards eyed her warily, burning holes from the back of her skull, their stake bone weapons growing from underneath forearm muscle tissue at the ready.

Baraka, the Tarkatan chieftain, was a frightening sight, his disfigured face contorted into a perpetual sneer of mouthfull of fangs, his body a grotesque tapestry of jagged bone pieces sticking individually from beneath his skin and muscle.

"I am a member of the Lin-Kuei, however," she pressed on and finally met his gaze that only held animosity. "I come to you, not as their envoy, but as an individual."

The other Tarkatans, their bodies and faces deformed by the curse of immortality, watched her with hungry red eyes. A low growl rumbled from the depths of Baraka's throat, a sound that sent shivers down her spine.

As a companion of the notorious Lin-Kuei vampire clan, Diya knew that her presence here was risky. Her clan, or any other clan for that matter, and Baraka's were never on great terms. The two clans had been at odds for longer centuries though, their differences too great to overcome but what mostly played the part were teritorries that the fuss was about. Diya had a plan to make things right, albeit behind the Grandmaster's back.

Baraka studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her frail-looking form. He didn't move, his crimson orbs boring into hers, a silent challenge. When she didn't even scurr away a step he knew he's dealing with an ossified human, and that's a first for him.

Baraka regarded her with skepticism, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Why should I trust you, human?" he spat. "Your clan have only shown us disdain and shunned us away to crawl underneath this mountain like worms!"

"I do not judge your people," she said softly while trying not to visibly whince under his raised tone. "I understand your pain. I have seen the prejudice you suffer, the cruelty that has been meted out to you. I am not here to convert you, to force you to bow to the Lin-Kuei. I am here to offer you an alliance."

A ripple of unease ran through the Tarkatan ranks. Baraka's hairless brows narrowed, his gaze piercing. If the clan were waiting for a punch-line then they will be disappointed that there isn't any, Diya is dead serious behind that smiling exterior.

"An alliance?" he parroted, his voice a low growl. He glowered with ire at her impudent offer than laughing in her face. "What good could possibly come of that?!"

"We can be stronger together," Diya dared a step forward for her mind was lost in a moment of passion, her voice unwavering. "We can fight against the evil that threatens us all."

"Spare me your play on empathy." his jaws snapped, rows of sharp teeth clicked together, finally unveiling the true reason for her sudden attendance. "You should rather explain your proposal. human."

Baraka stepped down from his seat — that had Diya momentarily wonder if it's comfortable to sit on at all, his heavy gait resonating through the cavern and the guards backed off from the spotlight of the moon's light that spilled through the man-made hole of the cave. He circled her, his hulking form casting a long shadow across the dirty, wet ground.

Diya held her ground, refusing to be intimidated yet it was still a little difficult to swallow. "Baraka, it's no secret that there are only a few Lin-Kuei left—"

"Good! The less the better! It was about time those murderous lapdogs have a taste of what it feels being squashed underneath someone else's boot!"

Diya took a deep breath and reassessed the situation, fists clenched by her sides. "... You have every right to be angry. I do not blame you. But I wish to save my family from extinction."

"Family? HA! You're a human! Nothing else but an emergency food."

Diya's smile was empty as she nodded to his somewhat understandable conjecture. "There has been plenty of oportuninties for my brothers to bleed me dry, yet here I am— talking to you, unharmed, not bitten even once."

The Tarkatan headman disappeared out of her sight behind her and suddenly Diya felt cold breath against her ear, gravelly, low voice muttered; "And what makes you certain you'll leave this place alive?"

With a shuddering inhale Diya composed herself and straightened her posture. She swore she felt the blunt underside of a few fangs brush against her lobe, however, the featherlight touch disappeared as soon as Baraka fled the close proximity. "Because I know you're a smart man—"

"— A monster. More like."

"— If I am slain by your hand then the Lin-Kuei will know where to look, seeing as there is no greater enemy of theirs than Tarkatans... And while there is a short amount of my clan, yours is shorter by a couple of figures. It would be a risk to put the neck of your twenty clansmen on the line because of one human."

There was a heavy moment of silence as the disfigured vampire stood in front of her, staring her down with intensity that had her hold her breath, Diya was actually ready to apologise for overstepping until he replied...

"You are brave, Diya Grau, clever too," Baraka rasped. "but you're also naive." seeing the amused curl twitch on her mouth told him it's not the first time she was called by that, and he took a note of that for whatever reason. "You have lived in your gilded cage, coddled by your... merciful owners. You have no idea what it is like to be cast out, to be hunted, to be feared. And with the likes of Lin-Kuei, they will never accept us, even if there is only one vampire left in each clan."

Diya's slim brows furrowed and pinched the impeccable skin. "I know, but we have to start somewhere or our clans will be stuck in this nonsensical cycle of hate..." she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

In a way, Baraka began to see her reason, although it has a selfish purpose, and he did wish for a day like this to come. Come to peace with any other clan so his people didn't need to silently suffer no more. But he's a realist and knows for a hundred percent the Lin-Kuei's grandmaster would never allow such a thing to happen while he still draws breath.

"You are not a monster, Baraka –" Diya spoke up before he could, her eyes softening and it slightly put the Tarkatan off guard. "you are a warrior, a protector. I have seen the way you lead your people, the sacrifices you make for their sake. And I believe that together, our clans can be stronger than ever before."

Baraka dismissed her words as false flattery because of the slightest hint of oozing fear he smelled off of her, but also because he doesn't want to get his hopes up. He's been immortal for centuries and he had been burned an embarrassing amount of times, he no longer wishes to be the fool.

Diya held his gaze, her own violet eyes, framed by snowy lashes, blazing with a quiet fire. "My brother is not the same as the late Grandmaster, there is a chance of making him see the potential of this alliance... I understand that the world has turned its back on you. But right now there's a chance to change that before the hunters will come for us all, show the world that the Tarkatans are not monsters, but survivors and equals."

Baraka inched closer, his face inches from hers. The scent of blood clung to him, a potent reminder of his savage nature, but she had gotten used to the iron stench that it didn't bother her nose. His eyes skeptically squinted as they searched over her face for a sign that would reveal her ill intentions — if she had any.

Diya did not flinch. Instead, she offered him a smile, one that held both understanding and a hint of something else – something Baraka has yet to place a tag on. But her heart picked up in speed, the beat drummed in her ears. She mused to herself that while her brothers described Tarkatans as hideous she really had thought nothing of that sort the longer she looked at Baraka's face underneath the rays of the moon.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, and it unsettled the Tarkatans around them.

Baraka saw nothing but the compassion in her eyes that traveled around his face with no hint of disgust, the sincerity in her words were not laced with dishonesty either.

He saw not a Lin-Kuei, but a - human - woman who understood his pain, who saw beyond the monstrosity of his clan. Never in his life had he thought he'd live this long to meet such an accepting soul.

"There is bloodthirst in my clan," he said, his voice a low rasp, deciding to test the waters. "a curse that can barely be controlled. Just with your presence alone, our sane minds are tempted to rip you to shreds."

"I know," she calmly replied, her head tipped more forward, nearly brushing her flat nose against his permanently scrunched one as she murmured for him to hear. "while you have more appetite than the other vampires it does not mean that you can't live among them if you're well fed." she added, as a matter-of-fact.

He knew his people, himself included, were desperate, consumed by a hunger for blood that could not be ignored. Yet, a part of him, a part he had kept hidden beneath the hardened exterior, craved something more. He craved peace, he craved acceptance for his people and him.

Baraka stepped back and for a long moment there was silence as Baraka considered Diya's words, until he accepted she is on their side but that did not made him less wary, she's still a Lin-Kuei.

"I will grant you safe passage back to your clan." his voice thick with emotion and his ruby orbs traced around the room on his people, as if they were communicating telepathically they ceased their grunts and growls. "But I offer no alliance. Not yet. You must prove your worth, Lin-Kuei. You must show me that your words are not just empty promises."

Mouth breaking into a gentle smile, she folded her dainty hands over her breast. "A vow of a Grau is as unmovable as an iceberg, dear Baraka."

[an-albino-pinetree]

Warnings: Disturbing imagery, mutilation, blood, freakshow au

Respawn company.

I was extremely inspired by the awesome doodle @sm-baby did on her blog, of Caine tearing the fuck into Jax, for the audience’s amusement

This was a lovely excuse to draw something nasty lookin 👍🏻

[dictatortirah]

Goretober Day 1 - Rotting

Not gonna do anythin too crazy, just doodles

[fence-time]

Team TIES zombie apocalypse AU by @itstaisstuff (the beloved) I am just a bit insane :3

[foolishfoolsgold]

Immune system go brr

A few designs I’ve done since I had this mutated brainchild back in October. I have others like eosinophil and dendritic but I wanna redraw them. I was still learning the way of the cell creature back then lol. Image IDs under the cut

[Start ID: The first image shows the AU design for U-1146. The background is white with a gray triangle pattern. He’s wearing his usual uniform, but he has a rounded, noseless snout, long ears without holes, and his one eye that is showing has black sclera and a round silver iris. His skin, turned cell membrane, is pure white with faint gray striped that resemble the markings of a raccoon. He has a tail with the same colors, it’s long, skinny, and has multiple lobes on it. Who on the very end, and a few dorsal lobes along its length. Again, like a raccoon, the tail has those faint stripes on it. He’s standing and staring at the viewer with his one visible eye, with his left hand in a fist, and the other gripping a silver knife. There’s some text next to his head that reads: “Only has one eye, and it can’t un-dilate so he always has that big sauger pupil we see in the media.” Another text box reads “Some raccoon inspiration because the official art makes it look like he has an eye mask.” There’s a piece of this official art in the top left corner of the image for comparison, and in the bottom right, there’s my watermark.

The second image shows Killer T Cell’s design. The background has an orange-yellow triangle design. He’s standing with his usual uniform, head turned and arms crossed. He doesn’t have bones, though, so his arms look more like they’re tied in a knot. He keeps his canon skin tone and hair style, but his membrane has dark blue markings that make him resemble a peregrine falcon. He shares the basic physical features with U-1146, except his tail is thinner and only has two small lobes on the end. His tail is yellow, like his hair, and has an arrow pointing from it to a picture of a banana flavored Snack Pack pudding package, noting that his tail looks a lot like banana pudding by humorously noting “Is it worth it?” Unlike 46, T’s hazel eyes are made up of multiple pupils that coalesce like a lava lamp, and this is true for all future entries as well. Again, there’s my watermark and an actual picture of killer t for reference.

The third image shows Macrophage’s design, and a cream-colored triangle background. Macrophage has large, frilled ears, and a darker cell membrane that looks almost like light coffee. She’s wearing her normal ruffled dress, but instead of legs, she has long tentacles without suckers, built almost like Ursula. She’s covered in white patterns with ripple-like stripes and spots, resembling a cuttlefish. With her right arm and one of her tentacles, she’s holding her signature cleaver, dripping with red blood, which also stained another tentacle and parts of her dress, and the other arm is held up to her face in an “I didn’t do that!” pose. She’s accompanied by a picture of anime Macrophage and a microscope photo of a real macrophage, reaching out with its “arms” to some bacteria. There’s a text box under it that reads: “like come on I HAD to make her a sea monster, have you seen real macrophages? Look at this bitch.” Another box reads: “lots of cephalopod inspiration, octopus-like build with cuttlefish markings and frills.” A final humorous box says “it’s ok she just had to refill the ketchup at McDonald’s,” referring to the blood.

The fourth image featured NK’s design with a green patterned background, as are the following images. She keeps her skin tone and clothes for the most part, but she has a centaur-like build. Her black tank top is extended to cover her chest and has short sleeves for her first set of legs, and ends with a belt around her midsection to her green shorts. She has green boots on all four of her feet, and her tail is black with green splotches, and has lots of lobes, almost like that of a leafy sea dragon. She has army-green spots resembling a cheetah, and she’s smiling and looking confident, with her left hand in a fist. She has her saber in a sheath on her back, and a brown bag secured to her belt like a saddlebag. There’s an arrow pointing to the photo of anime NK from a text box that says “there is something about this SPECIFIC png of NK that cracks me up sm and I don’t fucking know what it is.”

The fifth image shows Helper T, who shares many basic traits with Killer T such as bipedalism and a two-loved tail. While he still has the creature features like the big ears and rounded snout, he’s race-swapped as a black man, and has dark stripes along his arms and face like a peacock. His eyes are blue, and he’s holding a cup of green tea, dropping a cookie in it. There’s a small figure showing that his hair (flagella) are each coiled rather than straight.

The final image shows B cell’s design, which has a lot of bird inspiration. He has a longer snout, plumed tail and ears, and big flat lobes along his arms that look like wings. His eyes are silver md his stripes are brown and green, patterned like that of a blue jay. He’s also holding his antibody gun. A text box reads: “Bird boy! B cells were first discovered in birds and are named after the bursa of fabrics, a thymus-like organ for B cells that only birds have.” There’s also a note that says “face shape inspired by the Hilda bird because look at him,” accompanied by a screenshot of the raven from the Netflix series Hilda. He has a simple, completely black design with a rounded face, stick-figure legs and small wings. End ID.]