#DSMP God AU

[cielcreations]

Godly Powers - Prologue [DSMP God AU]

A long time ago, three gods ruled over everything. There was the God of the End, the God of the Overworld, and the God of the Nether. All three of them were extremely close, so close they were lovers. They helped one another out, helped one another create their worlds, helped one another make their realms more lively with plants, creatures, and even used their power to make portals  for the creatures to pass through.

However, with more creatures came more work. The gods had to make sure the creatures had enough free will and intelligence so they wouldn't just be some zombie like creature, but they couldn't have too much that they tried to overthrow them.

"Why don't we make our own gods that were below us!"   The God of the End suggested.

"What? I don't think-"

"That's a great idea!" The God of the Overworld exclaimed, "We're all both so tired all the time, having other people help us would ease the load! We'll even have more time, just the three two of us!"

"I really don't want-"

"We will all both still be together, that will never change. However, with extra hands around, it will be more lively!"

"Nothing bad will come of this I promise!"

"...O-Okay..."

"Great! Let's get to work!"

And so, the three gods began to make more. At first, the God of the End and the God of the Overworld were the only two to make multiple gods. Meanwhile, the God of the Nether only made one. The system worked for awhile, until the God of the Nether noticed something.

An affair.

The God of Nether never, never, ever, EVER, agreed to this. He, of course, confronted them.

"I don't like how close you both are getting with your gods! I-"

"You're overreacting." The God of the End reassured.

"It's all just platonic!" The God of the Overworld chuckled.

"B-But I saw you both-"

"It's okay, we're still together, it's not a big deal!"

"We promise, my firefly, it's okay!"

Is it okay? The God of the Nether thought. However, he just sighed.

The God of the Nether just smiled sadly, "Okay... I trust you." He didn't, but he couldn't say that.

The God of the Nether made more Gods, just like the other two. However, while the other two were extremely happy, having fun, having an affair and cheating, and making gods that were stable and happy... the God of the Nether couldn't. He was upset, he was hurt, and he was angry. The gods he started to make were a bit unstable, they had a temper, they reflected his emotions and what was in his heart. While the God of the Overworld and God of the End had fun, while they smiled, and continued their "secret" relationships, the God of the Nether suffered remained silent.

His heart was breaking everyday, seeing the way his boyfriends acted. While he remained loyal, they didn't. He grew to hate their gods, to the point he would make their gods cry and not feel any remorse. He secretly hopes and prayed they would come back. That they would hug him and love him again.

But that never happened.

One day, the God of the End proposed an idea.

"We should have an open relationship!"

"......Huh?"

"Ooooh, good idea!" The God of the Overworld agreed, "We can all still be together, but be able to go out and explore!"

"...What...?"

"Exactly! What do you say, S-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" The God of the Nether screamed.

"F-Firefly-"

"YOU BOTH CHEAT ON ME FOR HUNDRED, MAYBE THOUSANDS, OF YEARS AND NOW PROPOSE AND OPEN RELATIONSHIP?! NOW?! AFTER ALREADY CHEATING?!"

"W-We didn't-"

The God of the Nether nearly ripped out his hair, "ALL THIS TIME! ALL! THIS! FUCKING! TIME! I WAS WAITING, HOPING, PRAYING FOR YOU BOTH TO COME BACK TO ME WHILE I WATHCED YOU KISS AND GRIND, HEAR YOU MOAN AND FUCK ALL YOUR PATHETIC GODS! INSTEAD, YOU PROPOSE AN OPEN RELATIONSHIP?! WHY?! TO HIDE YOUR GUILT?!"

The God of the End reached out to him, "F-Firefly-"

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT!" The God of the Nether pulled his hand away. He turned around and began to stomp away, fire erupting from where he stepped, "You both are going to pay for the torture you put me through."

The God of the Nether didn't take it well.

He started a war. With the Goddess of Death, God of Blood, God of War, God of Time, and many other powerful gods on his side, the God of the Nether should have won. The war between them lasted for two weeks, the God of the End and the God of the Overworld teaming up. The God of the Nether and his gods were backed into a corner and, caring about them more than his own health, he used his power to retreat them to safety.

The God of the Nether screamed as the God of the End stabbed him. The god coughed up golden blood and fell to his knees.

"S-Step back!" The God of the Overworld separated them.

The God of the Nether just looked down, staring at his own blood.

"...Firefly, you're too unstable."

I just want you both to come back to me... The God of the Nether thought.

"We don't have a choice." The God of the Overworld said.

The God of the Nether looked up and watched the two hold their hands up. His eyes widened and he reached out to stop them, but it was too late. With heavy hearts, they used almost all their power to lock the other deep into the Nether, his realm. Netherite chains wrapped around his wrist and ankles as he was taken deep into the realm, hidden under lava, under the endless Netherack, unable to be accessed by anyone but them.

The minor gods who fell under the God of the Nether were ordered to choose who they now wished to follow. All of them refused to follow the God of the Overworld or the God of the End, demanding their true ruler back. Both of them simply said it was impossible. Everyone was forbidden to speak of the God of the Nether, no one was to utter his name.

He was unstable.

He was a problem.

But you don't really believe that.... do you? After all, you can see the text they tried to hide. So tell me, young godling, if you want to figure out who you're connected to... you know where to look, don't you?

Who am I?

There's no need to rush things. After all, you have a story to read.

Flip the page and, when the time is right, you will know who I am.

[cyani07]

dinner in las nevadas

[sunlit-mess]

What's the piece you're most proud of (that you've drawn?)

nothing beats these two.

[zorishy]

Ode To L’Manberg: My Unfinished Symphony

I’m back with the second work in my series presenting story of L’Manberg as written in my main DSMP au (Symphony of Gods and Dreamers). The lore dumps I have posted about this au can be found under the Zorishy’s Bursona Lore tag.

This poster covers the events of the Manberg vs. Pogtopia arc.

AU specific details in this poster:

Fundy has been aged down

Sally burned the flag and delivered Fundy’s “You had a dream and I followed it” line

Tubbo escaped the Manberg festival without being executed

Technoblade had no involvement in L’Manberg during this arc, only Pogtopia

Dream also had no involvement in this arc

Dream already had the revival book before the events of the server

Wilbur was badly injured in the explosion of L’Manberg and Phil killed him out of mercy

The button in the final control room was armed with TNT

The button Wilbur pressed to blow up L’Manberg was the one in the final control room

[nomsfaultau]

From the interlude What Happened in the Constellations, wherein kid scp Wilbur meets Philza and loathes him almost as much as he loathes himself.

[viorawd]

damn. oh how much I loved dsmp gods lore

my pookies😔

These character designs are not mine!

[bleue-flora]

i need ur opinion on angel cdream

I’ve literally had this for weeks and this is still all I got…

[rat-rosemary]

Also, ramble about Dream's powers.

He gives his followers the ability to change between animal forms as a second nature. He can actively force a transformation on someone but he needs to actively focus to keep them in that form, if he pulls away even a little for a singular moment they can freely change again

(Tubbo used to think Dream had locked him into a ram-like form as some type of punishment. He didn't, it was Tubbo himself who defaulted to that.)

(Trauma 👍)

Dream can also influence his devouts forms more lightly. I have a scene in mind where Dream is about to start a fight with another God to give the others time to run, and people's hair and markings start changing, becoming duller so they can better camouflage while they run. He's not doing this actively either, it's an extension of his subconscious.

(Karl's hair, for example, would become pure brown. Tommy's become a dull dark blonde. Techno's pink fur starts turning brown at the snout, more like a hog then a piglin. Sapnap's usually flaming horns dull and Quackity's golden feathers become dark and spotted like moss. Anything to make it easier for them to hide)

People will change without thinking about it. They can force themselves into a specific form (and some of those changes might stick even when they change again, like Karl's colorful hair and Tubbo's horns) but it's normal for them to just change based on what they need. If you're running you become a rabbit, if you're falling you grow wings, if you're on the water you become aquatic, etc

Augh, editing this post to ramble more

People have forms they default to tho! Yes, as their base form (normally whatever species they were born in, maybe with small chances) but also to their forms when in an emergency

George and Sapnap always turn to fish in the water and dogs when running, while Bad turns to a shark (he becomes huge its terrifying because he has a habit of pouncing and slamming his hands around people to get them out of tricky situations)

Wilbur tends to default to phantom while running, sinking under the earth. Tommy will constantly change forms while doing stuff, and when he panics he tends to mimic one of Dream's forms

Ranboo sticks to end creatures, except in water, then hes an axolotl :]

Tubbo doesn't lose the ram horns even when he changes shape.

Techno doesn't tend to change forms at all, even when in mortal danger. Dream is not his main God so the shifting is Techno's last instinct :]

(Oh yeah, I know I'm just saying animals but they're hybrids)

[cosmicasteroids]

Tommy: do you think we are friends in every universe?

Tubbo: I’d think so-

A entry for a clingy duo dtiys on Instagram.

[idkwatthehec]

Me, watching a God of War playthrough:

Man the dynamic between Kratos and Atreus is pretty familiar.

(Kratos, very big, physically strong man, stoic and feared by most others. Afraid of his own rage but quietly loves his son. A literal god.)

Huh yeah wait it’s really familiar

(Atreus, his son, also kinda has anger issues, but tries to see the good in everything until his ego gets a massive boost, Kratos is the one to knock him down a peg)

Wait…is this…bedrock br-

*gets dragged away screaming*

[starry-bi-sky]

you can't choose what stays and what fades away

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can't choose what stays and what fades away

(and I'd do anything to make you stay)

------------

Shen Yuan wakes up in a woodshed.

He's in a body that's not quite his own.

(WIP also available on ao3!)

He wakes up in a woodshed.    

No, actually— let him correct himself. Shen Yuan does, indeed, wake up in a woodshed, but it’s not the first thing he realizes upon waking. No, in fact, consciousness comes quite slowly to him; sluggish, his mind attempting to slog through calf-high bogland without exhausting itself. It’s like he’s trying to drag himself to the surface of a river with a weight tied around his ankle, the weight trying desperately to drag him just as quickly down.    

His senses come to him just as slowly, his hearing and touch and smell and taste all trying to claw its way up back into existence till they’re thrumming beneath the thin skin of his body. Yes, it’s very much like trying to wake up from a long, deep sleep where he didn’t get quite enough rest, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he had collapsed again. His mouth is dry, his lips feel crusty, and his eyes are sealed shut by congealed-whatever-mixture of disgusting bodily fluids his eyes are capable of producing.    

Much like breaking free from sleep-paralysis, the moment he’s able to register that he’s actually sensing things again, the strange, spongy film that had been dampening them suddenly crumbles and collapses. Everything rushes forth like water spilling out of an open dam, or maybe like blood from an open scab, and Shen Yuan is abruptly accosted by the world and its sounds and sensations.   

The sun is hitting his eyes in just the right way that he can see the light burning behind his eyelids – which, that can’t be right, his curtains should be drawn, -- and there’s the distinct and gentle sound of wind rustling past, of birds singing softly, and the faint trill of music floating through. Shen Yuan is abruptly imposed with the mental image of a yellow autumn leaf falling delicately onto a still pond, that is how tranquil the world around him sounds.    

It is so, so, incredibly cliche, that he can’t help but open his eyes with a deep rooting incredulity planting itself firmly in the core of his chest. What he expects to see is the ceiling of his bedroom – the ground is hard enough that, for a moment, he thinks he may have fallen asleep on the floor again, or perhaps the hospital, because then that would at least explain better the tranquil sounds in his ears and the sunlight hitting his face.   

(Except he doesn’t smell the familiar sting of septic and cleaner, nor does he hear the beeping of the heart rate monitor beside him, the bustle and soft murmur of nurses outside that are always on the move. There’s no paper thin and slightly scratchy blanket laid over him. And never, not once, has he been subjected to the sounds of an eight-hour tranquil music ASMR while in the hospital.)  

(In fact, his nose feels rather stuffy. The same way it gets when he has a runny nose that just dried or a bloody nose that just finally stopped bleeding. He smells dirt and wood, and— and… is that blood?)    

There’s still crust clinging to his lashes and the corner of his eyes when he opens them, so his vision is immediately blurred in the way only recent consciousness can create. But even then, he can see the roof clearly enough to know that this is neither his bedroom nor the hospital. Shen Yuan sits up while his heart drops right out of his chest, regretting the action immediately as an ache shoots up his arms and staunchly reminds him of a terrible soreness spread throughout his body, one that he was not previously aware of.   

The hiss he makes is involuntary, and the sound rusted and weak, irritating his sore throat while his head pounds behind his eyes like a hammer against a nail. Get your bearings, Shen Yuan, he thinks, vision swimming, sucking in his dessert-dry bottom lip between his teeth and catching it on the incisors. The air does nothing for the inside of his mouth. Where the fuck am I?  

His eyes flick around the crust poking irritably at his corneas, as he tries to soak in where exactly he is. On instinct, his hands come up to flick away the crust obscuring his sight, and when he pulls his fingers away, there’s dark, brown-red buildup crumbling against his skin.   

Wh—? Shen Yuan rubs his eyes again, and realizes there’s a flaking trail coming from his eyes down his cheeks that, when he rubs at it, peels off into what can’t be anything but dried blood. It does nothing for his rapid-beating heart and the sinking shock and horror settling between his ribs. Why has he been bleeding from his eyes?    

He looks up from his hand. That shock and horror rising as he finally, finally takes in his surroundings, while also realizing, his dry tongue running against the back of his teeth and the corner of his mouth, that he was tasting blood too. Faint and stuck against his gums, but there.   

Shen Yuan is surrounded by cut wood, and beneath him he’s sitting on an old, tattered blanket. He’s wearing robes. Robes, worn and slightly dirty, made of a pleasant-to-the-eye green and white fabric, and straight out of every single Xanxia novel, drama, and poster he’s ever read and seen. There’s a simply, if slightly tattered, white fan tucked against his thigh.   

Oh, oh no. His hands fly up to his hair and— yep. Yeah, slightly tangled but undeniably soft and smooth, black hair slips against his fingers like silk and pours over his shoulders and down his back. It’s ten times longer than it should be, ten times longer than he’s used to, and he’s sitting on the ends of it. He releases his hair only so Shen Yuan can slap his hands against his face, automatically picking at the trail of dried blood on both corners of his mouth. His fingers are chilled against his skin, and he ignores it to trace his new (he thinks—the bow of his mouth and the curve of his cheekbones feels achingly familiar) facial features.   

Whose face am I wearing? What book have I entered? Because wasn’t this transmigration one-oh-one? The last thing he remembers was becoming incensed with the ending of Proud Immortal Demon Way and, in the middle of his scathing rant, dying of food poisoning. This was totally transmigration one-oh-one. Dying after reading a book, only to wake up in a place that was not the modern world, only to realize shortly after that they were now in the book they had just read?   

Wait— if he follows that trope, then... Shen Yuan’s heart decides it’s had enough time in his stomach, and leaps right into his throat. His eyes flitter around anxiously. There are bamboo stalks rising out the window, and the music he’s hearing, Shen Yuan realizes belatedly that it’s the sweet plucking of a guqin. Oh no. Don’t tell me--   

Like an activation phrase, a too-loud notification ‘ding!’ goes right off in his ear, resulting in Shen Yuan flinching violently as a too-bright and eye-stinging blue message box seals open into existence right before his eyes.   

[ SYSTEM Successfully Activated! Welcome to the world of Pride Immortal Demon Way! You are ‘Shen Jiu’ -- otherwise known as Shen Qingqiu, thirteen-year-old Disciple of Qing Jing Peak. Currently your actions are restricted due to a frozen OOC function that will eventually be unlocked after you familiarize yourself with the world. ]  

No! Of all the people he could have been transmigrated into, did it have to be the villain? Scum Disciple Shen Qingqiu? No— no, of course it was the villain; wasn’t that also transmigration one-oh-one as well? That the transmigrator was either the hero, the villain, or an NPC related to either one?   

Was this karma? Was the world enacting karmic justice on him for all those late nights spent arguing with internet randos online when he should have been doing something productive with his life? Of all those hours spent countlessly researching mythical beasts and animals and folklore all so he could tear the author a new one for his terrible plot and even worse papapa? Did Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky inflict some kind of curse on him that resulted in him being dragged into his shitty, shitty, stallion novel to act as the same guy who later gets his limbs torn off and pickled by the main protagonist?   

It had to be. That’s exactly what this was. This was karma.   

(Oh god, he’s never going to see his family again, is he? He’d died. He’d died in his world, he knows it. That’s how this always goes. At least he hadn’t been hit by a truck, at least he’d died somewhat originally. But he died. He’d been choking and everything went dark. The fluid filling his lungs, the lack of air, the steady crawl of blackening fuzz slowly encircling his vision--)  

(Who will find his body? How long will it take? It’d only been a week prior that he’d gotten into a fight with da-ge and the others, and they usually give him space for a while when they do. It’s not like Shen Yuan had any close friends left either--)  

(Will they find him rotting? Will they blame themselves? What will they think?)   

--(...Oh god, who was going to tell Hai-ge--?)--  

Shen Yuan drops his face into his hands, ignoring the throbbing of his skull and the influx of nausea that sloshes from his chest to his stomach as he does. He groans, low and painful, ignoring the sharp sting of his throat it causes. Does it have to be Shen Qingqiu? He asks, and wonders if the SYSTEM needs an audial vocal command or if it would just--   

[ You have been chosen to play Shen Qingqiu, the Scum Villain Disciple! ]   

Annoyance burrows into his throat. That’s... not what he asked. His teeth grind against each other, the stupid message box burning into his eyes. That at least answers that question, though. He won’t have to talk aloud to communicate with the SYSTEM, so at least he won’t look insane for talking to himself in public. Why does it have to be Shen Qingqiu?   

[ Shen Qingqiu plays a vital role in Pride Immortal Demon Way! You have been chosen to take on his role as the Scum Villain Disciple. ]   

What vital role!? Shen Qingqiu, sure, had a role in the beginning of the book as the disciple who did nothing but cause a ruckus and trouble on Qing Jing Peak when the protagonist’s back was turned; trying to drag Peak Lord Luo Binghe’s precious name through the mud while inciting what was basically tyranny by clawing his way up to a Head Disciple position through being a green tea bitch. He then went and used that power to abuse and bully the younger disciples when the adults weren’t looking.  

He only got away with it for so long because Luo Binghe was so busy with important missions and night hunts and the sweeping-of-peerless-beauties off their feet off the peak, that when he was on Qing Jing, it wasn’t long enough to realize just who was behind the disruption. And Shen Qingqiu was sneaky about it, so it took even longer. 

Only coming to a head at the Immortal Cultivation Conference when demons attacked and it all came to light like a hellish volcano, resulting in Shen Qingqiu not only finding out about Luo Binghe’s status as a half-heavenly demon, but also him being pushed into the Endless Abyss. He re-emerges half a decade later, brimming with demonic cultivation and a half-crazed lust for power and vengeance — revenge that ends up failing because he’s going up against the powerful protagonist.  

He causes a handful of actual problems before Luo Binghe finally has enough, and in the end, Shen Qingqiu ends up with his non-vital limbs cut off and stuffed inside a jar like a human pickle. A horrifying and befitting ending for any villain and antagonist of the main character.  

That is to say, nothing about him is actually vital. He was, for all intents and purposes, pretty much a low-tier cannon fodder villain meant to boost up and accentuate the protagonist’s abilities in the beginning of the book. A way to introduce the audience to the might and intelligence of the main character and their problem-solving skills when there is a ‘mysterious figure’ going around besmirching his name.  

Which... may just work in his favor, actually. Shen Qingqiu ended up with the fate he got because he went against the protagonist, a big no-no in practically every trashy novel. So, solution so Shen Yuan doesn’t end up a human stick? Don’t get in the protagonist’s way.  

That annoying ‘ding!’ rings in his ear, causing yet another flinch out of Shen Yuan as a notification unapologetically forms in front of him.  

[ WARNING: OOC! Host’s refusal to stay in character will result in automatic point deductions. If Host’s point score gets too low, SYSTEM will automatically mete out punishment. ] 

Of course it wasn’t that easy. Of course not, because why would it be easy? Of course there was a point system, this was a SYSTEM after all. Of course he couldn’t just avoid the villain’s fate, because that’d be too easy. His annoyance simmers out across the plane of his chest, and he decidedly ignores the faint tremor in his arms and the pulsing beat of his heart as he picks himself up off the ground and stands.  

His legs, much like his arms, tremble, and his head swims. He pushes through it, ignoring the ill-feeling of fear making itself home in the pit of his stomach. He should ask what those punishments are; what they’ll look like. He should ask about the point system, about how to increase his point score, about all the functions in the SYSTEM and what he has available, and what he does not.  

He should ask how old he is – because he’s much smaller than his old adult self had been; probably child-sized? -- and where he is in the book. What year is it, how long until the Immortal Cultivators Conference. Just when is he? 

Shen Yuan reaches out to grip onto a particularly towering stack of firewood, careful not to knock it or himself over. It feels like physical therapy all over again. Granted, a primitive, unsupervised, cobbled-together version of physical therapy, but physical therapy, nonetheless.  

His foot kicks against the fan, he’d frankly forgotten about that, and it slides off the blanket and across the dirt. His fingers twitch to grab it, something possessive and uncomfortably vulnerable rearing in his lungs – ah, an instinctive emotion from the original goods then? He’s heard of that in other transmigration stories he’s read, the novels failed to mention the full extent of how strange it felt.  

(It felt so eerily natural to want to pick it up. Of course he’d be upset about kicking it, and the unhappiness of dirtying it slots itself against him like second nature. How strange. How creepy.)  

Instead of asking any of that though, Shen Yuan turns his bitter mind inwards to the SYSTEM and asks, perhaps, the most important question of them all; Why did you bring me here if you were just going to kill me again?   

Isn’t that unnecessarily cruel?  

[ Host has been brought to Pride Immortal Demon Way because it is our sincere hope that Host can transform this stupid work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic! As part of the welcoming package, and to help ease the transition, a few things have been left in Host’s inventory! We hope you enjoy your time in Pride Immortal Demon Way! ]  

To change-- 

To change--?  

To CHANGE--?  

Indignancy surges itself from the tips of Shen Yuan’s fingers to the crown of his head, anger not unlike every single time Airplane threw away an interesting plot point for sex fuzzes out his vision and turns his pounding headache into a full-fledged migraine. His grip on the firewood tightens, and he can feel the rough and textured bark digging into his skin. 

His mouth curls inward, the cracked skin splitting down the middle of his bottom lip as Shen Yuan threatens to snarl at the SYSTEM. How the fuck am I supposed to change the plot if I can’t even change the way my character acts!  

[ Reminder to Host: The OOC Function is frozen, but not permanent. Once Host has become properly settled in and completed the tutorial will he be able to unlock it. ]  

Fine, fine! He has half a mind to unload a string of curses at the SYSTEM, because apparently its rules were as stupid as the author who made this world. Shen Yuan refrains; he doesn’t know how sentient the thing is, and upsetting it right now when he has no idea when he is – nor does he know a thing about the point system -- would only be detrimental for him in the long run. 

Instead, he lets loose a groan from his throat that could be more accurately compared to as a growl. With his one free hand, Shen Yuan drags his palm down his face, and then loops it back up to comb it through his hair. ...His hair that is much longer than it used to be, and which is snaggled with little knots and tangles that he’ll have to get out.  

He hits the first knot and immediately withdraws his fingers, freeing up a few strands of ink black hair while he’s at it. With a quick wrist shake, the strands fall to the floor and Shen Yuan leans the rest of his weight against the log pile. Some of his anger cools down until it’s nothing more than boiled water gone cold, and he sighs out through a clogged-up nose until there’s nothing more than a quiet pressure of unease curled around his shoulders.  

There’s really not much he does know about how Shen Qingqiu acts – after all, he put up a responsible and dutiful disciple front when he was in the presence of Luo Binghe, and was only then revealed to be a scumbag later down the line. Which only got backed up with secondhand accounts of the other Qing Jing Peak disciples.  

He didn’t show up often either, since most of the time Luo Binghe was off the peak. Nobody wants to read about a powerful peak lord being a teacher after all. Many more interesting things in the world around him than his students.  

SYSTEM, how old am I? He must be pretty young if he bases it off how small he is – although, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have much of a description in the first place. He was only described as having skin as white as jade, with glossy black hair and a noble air surrounding him. Height, eyes, and finer details like that were left unmentioned. Why did I wake up in a woodshed? What time is it? 

[ Host is currently thirteen years old! Last night Shen Qingqiu experienced a severe Qi Deviation after having an altercation with the Head Disciple. It is early morning; the other disciples will be getting breakfast. ] 

That doesn’t explain why he was in a woodshed. But at this point, Shen Yuan was starting to believe that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of every question he asks. That does explain the blood in his mouth and crusted on his face – and the soreness and exhaustion currently wrought through his body, though.  

In a rapid set of blinks and a little bit of mental fiddling, the message notifications disappear out of his sight and the rest of his senses begin to filter back in, the SYSTEM seeming content to disappear into the back of his mind – which, wow, feels just as weird as the original goods’ instincts from earlier. 

More of his own strength had returned, enough that Shen Yuan feels comfortable with pushing himself off the firewood stack and standing on his own. Making sure that his legs won’t collapse under the weight of his own body, he takes a tentative step forward and drops his gaze down to the little white fan sitting on the ground.  

...The idea of leaving without it returns that discomforting, vulnerable feeling from earlier, as if he had walked out without a shirt on. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up on its own with unease. Shen Qingqiu was mentioned to hide his face behind a fan in every appearance he made, it must be the original goods’ emotions he’s feeling then. Again.  

He leans down, his core trembling just a little, and plucks it right off the ground. The grooves of the wood fit against his fingers perfectly, hinting at weeks, if not years, of use and the oils of his hands wearing it down. He beats the side of the fan against his leg lightly, ignoring the bruising-aches it shoots up his thigh, and brushes off the dirt clinging to it.  

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu flicks it open and flutters it about for a few quick beats. The unnerving, skin-crawling sensation marking across his spine settles down, and he snaps the fan shut before reaching for the door.  

[ OOC: Host should make himself look presentable before being seen in public. Failure to do so will result in immediate point deduction. ] 

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth again, there’s nothing in here but dirt and wood, how am I supposed to do that? It’s not like he had the whole layout of Qing Jing Peak memorized; Luo Binghe was barely on so where everything was, wasn’t important. Is there some kind of bathhouse somewhere?  

Which, if there was, he wasn’t planning on using until it was entirely empty – the mere thought of it returned that gross, uncomfortable skin-crawling discomfort. He’ll shower at night, thank you, repressing a shudder at the horrifying idea of someone potentially walking in on him.  

[ OOC: Shen Qingqiu would never bathe with the threat of other disciples around. There is a nearby creek that Host can clean himself up at. ]  

That’s really not much better.  But, so long as he isn’t undressing in public, he can probably just... wash the dirt off and get his hair damp enough to detangle it. If Shen Qingqiu was sleeping in here, then he probably has a change of clothes somewhere around here, right? He should look around for any hidden bags before leaving.  

He finds a small qiankun pouch tucked safely between a set of wood logs near the blanket, and inside it is a clean set of robes for him to change into, which, perfect! The robes he was wearing right now weren’t terribly dirty, but there were a few dirt spots visible enough that Shen Qingqiu was sure that he’d probably get a point deduction out of it, or a scolding from senior disciples.  

(Does Shen Qingqiu sleep in the woodshed often? Shouldn’t he be in the dormitories?)  

He plucks the bag out of its little hidey-hole, giving it a place on his belt, along with his newly acquired fan, and turns towards the door. Shen Qingqiu crosses the room in the span of a few large steps, and just as he’s about to curl his hand around the handle, he... pauses.  

It’s only for a split second, a moment of hesitation, of personal confirmation that, once he opens this door, there will be no going back. Not that there was since he opened his eyes, but, it would cement it.  

Shen Qingqiu breathes in a shaky breath, and then opens the door to the rising sun.

[missmrvee]

*gays your gods*

[the-final-sif]

c!Dream is off on a mission, to a location he does not know, for a purpose he does not know, but it’s probably not dangerous, and he also brought snacks so it should work out in the end. Honestly, given his poor map reading skills, the lack of direction isn’t that different from normal.

When Dream started his mission to… somewhere, he hadn’t been expecting it to feel so different.

Unlike his usual adventures, full of sidetracks and distractions, he found his feet pulled forward. His body almost moved as if it had a mind of his own as something called for him. Faintly but desperately. Like a ghost screaming and clawing at his skin, but only coming across as a gust of wind.

He couldn’t say how long he walked for. Time faded away, the light stopped mattering, the sights and sounds blended together until-

Until he reached it.

The entrance to a cave, made of rock he’d never seen before. It was perfectly smooth, like river rocks, but it shimmered like crystals. Every time he looked, it was a different color. Refracting and reflecting light until you lost yourself looking at it.

It was huge. It was narrow. It was more than big enough to fit him. It felt like it might consume him.

The call was coming from the cave, but equally just looking at the cave felt like he was doing something wrong. Like he wasn’t really supposed to be here, even though he’d been called.

Taking a deep breath, Dream strode forward. Holding his head high and hoping his mask would keep him safe, like XD had promised it would.

Inside the cave, there was no air. Inside the cave, Dream didn’t need to breathe. He forgot how to.

The only thing he could remember was how to put one foot in front of the other.

There was no sound, not even his own footsteps. There was no light. He could see just fine. He could not understand what he was seeing.

Whatever was under his feet was no longer rock. Maybe it never had been. He still didn’t know what color it was.

Deeper and deeper into the cave he went, nothing changing but the feeling in his chest of something approaching. Something watching him. Something was waiting for him. He didn’t know if he wanted it to find him.

Dream was pretty sure he didn’t have a choice.

Finally, he stopped. Unable to walk any further. He was here.

In front of him was…

Well it looked like a pond. But it wasn’t full of water.

It was full of void, deadly still and frozen.

Without thinking, he knelt at its shore.

The room felt stagnant, empty, neglected.

And then..

He felt- not one but two somethings join him in the room. No- they had been there the entire time.

Is this it? The one we’ve been waiting for.

Yes. It feels strange, but it is the one.

It does not feel like the ones that came before. Something’s different.

It is meant to be this way. It is the one. It is meant to be different. It would not survive if it were the same.

This one has survived. It has come to us at last. We’ve been waiting a very long time for it.

I told you it would come, eventually.

I know. The waiting was still long. But it has come. It is here now. It’s time to begin again.

It can hear us. Let’s not make it wait. It has not yet won. It has so much to do.

I know. I wish it were easier. It has already come so far.

It has come far, and we will watch where it goes. We cannot make it easier, but we will be there to witness its story unfold.

“Um, my name is Dream.”

Dream wasn’t quite how he managed to speak, but he did. He could feel- surprise? shock? delight? Silence from the voices reverberating through his skull. Only for a moment though.

Our apologies, little Dream. You’ve come very far. You have much farther to go.

“I know. XD told me. He said this was the first step. Can I ask a question?”

You seem to be able to. Although our answers may not satisfy you. We must speak carefully. We are not here to shape you.

Never. We are here to watch, we are here to witness. So that you know the universe is with you.

“Okay, well, I know I was supposed to come here. I assume there’s something I’m supposed to do, like a task or something? But uh, before that, you guys seem to know a lot. Like about everything.”

We are everything. Everything you see, everything you feel, everything reaching out and holding you close.

We have been here a very long time. We will be here for a very long tmie, here to witness you, little Dream.

“Okay, well if you know a lot about everything, do you have any ideas about what I could get XD for Christmas? I really wanted to try to get him something, but he seems to be able to conjure anything. There has to be something that he wants though! Any ideas?”

There was a long pause, Dream almost thought the voices were gone, and then he felt something like laughter, like a breeze ruffling his hair, like a baby bird’s first awkward attempt at flight. Not cruel, soft, but chaotic.

We could-

Shush, Dream can still hear us. Speak with care.

I know. But he has asked. Can we not share this much?

XD would love any gift you brought him, he loves you. He can create any material, but only you give him something that communicates your love.

If he’d been able to, Dream would’ve rolled his eyes.

“I know, but I want it to actually be special. There has to be something that I could get that he can’t get on his own. I know it must exist!”

The voices paused again, only for a moment this time.

There is something you could get him, little Dream. But it is a very difficult task. It is very dangerous.

He is still small. The challenge is great.

That is not our choice to make.

“Wait, what is it? I can handle it! XD has been training me for years! Also I'm not that small! I'm a whole foot taller than Sapnap!”

If we tell him, we have made his choice.

What about a story then?

We could try a story. They are safer. Not entirely safe, nothing can be entirely safe. But safer.

Yes, let’s try.

The story starts with a boy. Young, small, but very brave. He was made of love, of new ideas. Dangerous new ideas.

The boy set out on a quest, dreams had haunted him at night, driving him forward until he found a dying world.

The world was dying because it was being poisoned by a monster. A great beast that had lost itself, that was in pain, that had already told its story but hadn’t yet been freed. It wasn’t allowed to wake up, to start a new dream.

The boy was very small, but very brave. Full of love for the world. Made of that love. He couldn’t stand to see the world hurt. So he set out to free the monster.

He used a weapon made of teeth, found deep in a strange place outside of the universe most people know. Given to him when he started his quest. Teeth and bone from the emptiness that stretches from one universe to the next. The maw of the nothing that binds everything. The only thing that could wake up the monster.

It was a long and hard fight. The monster was hurt, it was lashing out, it was too lost to understand that the boy was doing what it needed. But the boy managed to strike a final blow, sunk the teeth of the nothing in between everything into the monster and set it free. So it’s dream could start anew.

This was not the boy’s final quest, it was his first. It changed him. He was still made of love, but a new kind of love. Changed, as all things are by their experiences. He was something new.

The boy completed his quests, and each changed him more. At the end, he came out victorious, a brave monsterslayer. Feared and revered for his skill. He had everything he could ever want.

Almost.

Almost, you see, he was full of love, surrounded by others, but he felt alone. Nobody else could slay a monster like he had. His accomplishment isolated him. He wanted very badly to find someone else that could slay monsters like him. That could do what he could do. Someone else who was full of love and dangerous new ideas.

The universe felt sad for him, but it could not take his sadness. It could only witness the boy in his loneliness.

“What was his name?” Dream asked, trying to puzzle out the story he was being told. He thought he might understand, but he wanted to be sure.

You would need to ask him.

It is not our place to name others. Only to know their name. Only to witness them.

“Did the boy find someone else? Someone else who could slay monsters?”

That is your choice, little Dream. The story isn’t over yet.

We are almost out of time.

“Will I meet you again?”

We are the universe, and you are part of it. You will never be apart from us.

We might speak again, one day. But for now, it’s time for you to return to your story.

Wake up, little Dream.

[zorishy]

Ode To L’Manberg: Independence or Death

This is the first in a series of works I am making for my high school art class. The series is meant to present the story of L’Manberg as written in my main DSMP au (Symphony of Gods and Dreamers). The lore dumps I have posted about this au can be found under the Zorishy’s Bursona Lore tag.

If you do not wish to read all that, here are the au specific details shown in this poster:

Schlatt and Quackity were part of L’Manberg when it was founded.

Fundy has been aged down, being only 2 during the war.

the button in the final control room would have blown up L’Manberg if Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t prevented Eret from pressing it.

Dream stole the revival book from Mumza long before the beginning of the SMP and has been corrupted by its power. (Not that he wasn’t already evil to begin with)

The original L’Manberg army was much larger than in canon and made up of defectors from Dream’s early colonies on the SMP.

Sally is a shapeshifter

[nomsfaultau]

out of context plot points in Mandatory Family Reunion

Most of these are from gags from my fic. But others are horrific events completely reframed. Good luck guessing which is which !

A Dr. Pepper ruins Techno’s life

Tommy gets grounded for trying to shoot Philza

Techno has an AA meeting with his kidnappers

“Fun life advice with Techno: Turns out it’s not hard to fake cry when you’re constantly trying not to sob! Neat. Probably super applicable for normal people too.”

A black ops raid is sent to deliver Christmas presents

Tommy carries onions in his pockets so he can fake cry on command. This is funny until it isn't

On the other hand, that isn't modeling clay in Wilbur's pockets

Techno’s parents always have his back!

“It’s just the anxiety. I feel like I would’ve seen the achievement pop up if I got PTSD.”

Philza gets a rabies shot because of Techno

“But if [Philza's] years of running a criminal empire have taught him anything, all it takes is a can-do attitude and unfathomable wealth.”

Officer Jenny commits police brutality

It's always a bad sign when you can hear your parents giving you advice

Philza straight up drinks poison but is alright (unlike Skeppy)

Squidkid loses hide and seek with Wilbur bc he’s a dirty cheater

Techno’s hair is burnt off but, like, it’s not a big deal

If you can't replace your son's abusive parents yourself, store bought is fine. (Philza actively gets more scared when it works)

It's not a coma if you're in enough denial about it!

“[Tommy] hands over a real security ID. Sure enough, the middle name actually is Danger. Sam has very interesting parents, and a long and fascinating backstory that will never be mentioned again.”

Quackity implies Edgeworth x Wright is cannon

Techno hits rock bottom in an elevator. actually 3 people in the fic have elevator trauma. Maybe the real Mandatory Family Reunion was the elevator trauma we made along the way.

“Skeppy, I think the dog has ulterior motives.”

GPS failure nearly costs a court case

Techno helps run a criminal empire for like 2 weeks. But not that criminal empire.

“They were like a family to me” and “I love you” and “For you? The world, Phil” are the most devestating lines techno says

Yes. This story is definitely pure crack. No angst here no siree! It's all jokes and japes galore. Ignore the sobbing.

[etchy-a-sketchy]

Couldn’t figure out a background but have a continuation of my last drawing of these two XD