#Flesh & Bones AU

[cyantt-does-stuff]

The dynamic of OFAB Tomtord. Yes, I am an artist.

OFAB au belongs to @offleshandboneau!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ooo fantasy au Poppy oooo there's so much empty space on this, it's killing me

rambles:

why is there lace? why does she have a neck corset? because she's Gorgeous and I'm the Artist Here. i will always inflict my personal tastes on everyone I draw. pretty bird <3

it's really difficult to put clothes on a bird... stream helped out a bunch with the colors & the leg gear! I imagine that the leather is durable, which is probably the only thing that gets her to traverse less Forgiving terrain. Thornbushes and itchy tallgrass can't hurt her! she's got "boots"! How Does She Secure Them, i hear no one ask. that's what neighbors are for, isn't it? and a skilled beak once she gets the swing of it.

her shawl remains largely the same due to my lack of imagination! i put a lil feather clasp instead of the shawl being tied together to give it a more fantasy-oriented look. i think i succeeded? i like to think so! i imagine that the clasp gives Poppy some stress, though. It's sharp! Ish. it's sharp by her standards!

Poppy's enchanted glasses allow her to "see" injuries and illness, both caused by magical & normal means. this is very helpful in her role as healer, but also extremely stressful - just because she can see issues doesn't mean she automatically knows what they are! to her, a papercut may be misinterpreted by the beginnings of a fatal infection! i like to think that she got tired of needing to hold the glasses in place over her beak and asked if there was a charm to keep them steady. and they confidently had their resident wizard spell them on - oops! the spell was a little too strong! they're now magically superglued on! yeah, those are never coming off.

she also has a magic bag that i imagine was a gift from her family when she left the nest! she'd never directly use it herself - what if she falls in? what if something nasty managed to crawl inside? - but the Neighborhood uses it as collective storage. it can hold a lot! supplies, books, tents, gold, even Julie when she's determined enough!

[purble-gaymer]

happy birthday to the beast in the walls! here’s to another year of meta knight eating people

[improvapocalyps]

Stale blood caked Cleo's armor as she dragged herself through paradise. Gods below that sucked, she thought, that really sucked. They ignored the colorful birds that swooped overhead, disregarding the cloudless sky and brilliant sun that cast down gentle rays upon her green skin. What was the point of indulging in something that didn't exist?

Dust, Flesh, and Bones, by @pattonscribe

“Death!” she called, a hoarse quality to her voice, clutching tighter onto Etho’s body as their army of the dead went onwards to protect them. “You— this wasn't what I wanted!”

before we lose the sound of our own mouths calling mine, mine, mine., by @kanda-franca

In participation of MCYTblr AU Fest Summer 2024 hosted by @mcytblraufest!

I feel incredibly lucky and honored that two(2) writers decided to pick up my niche af AU pitch! They knocked it out of the park with their fics, please check them out !!

[Some behind-the-scenes ramble and close-ups under cut]

My AU's ao3 equivalent tag is "Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses", specifically drawing inspiration from Khelren's Godsend TTRPG setting (though you do not need any knowledge of the ttrpg to enjoy the fics):

In Godsend you roam the lands as the avatar of your god, cursing mere mortals and presenting gifts to the chosen ones. Your memories are numerous, made of the lives of your predecessors, your power is almost limitless. Will you use it to fulfil the will of your god? Or, as the end times draw near, will you try to save the world? 　(from the itch.io page)

I had my heart set on making Clethubs AU (to no surprise of anyone's i'm sure) so that's the main characters/ avatars settled- but who shall be the gods?

There are 6 domains in the Godsend setting: Death, Justice, Knowledge, Nature, Trickery, and War.

To me, it was obvious to put Bdouble "moss" O100 under the Nature domain, and Zombie "zombie" Cleo under Death. Then after some comtemplation Etho "free glass" sLab was slotted underneath Trickery.

What remains is to find the Hermist/ Traffic-lifers that are 1) connected to the domains 2) related to the avatars.

(fyi i drew all those feather strokes manually by hand with my lineart brush) (why? well,)

Grian came to mind immediately when I thought of "Trickery" (Though Cub, Scar, and a couple of other Hermits also fit). I wanted to build the god-avatar relationship on the Etho-Grian dynamic specifically.

Scar was chosen based on his S9 theme (wood elf) and his history with Bdubs (S7 mayor race). Baiscally the concept of King maker/ Second-in-command Bdubs was stuck in my brain. (Sorry Stress :[ )

Death was a trickier one. While it would be funny to have Grian-Scar-Mumbo to be (half of) the pantheon, Mumbo fit the Knowledge domain better. (ignoring his Peace, Love, and Plants deal for a sec; even then I think that's more Nature-aligned) so I went with the classic option of Zedeath.

Beyond this point (until "===") is me overanalysing/ blue-curtaining the black & white piece. You have been warned (/silly)

This piece's composition used a circle/three-parter as its base, witih the circle centred on the castle/city in the middle of the map. Etho was fully isolated in Grian/Trickery's third of the space, but Nature crossed over into Death's space easily the two domains are closely related imo. It was natural for things to end (death), and endings fueled the next cycle of nature life.

It seemed that all the gods are looking at the world/map, however since their pupils are obscured (non-existent in Scar's case) it was difficult to say for certain. Though you might be able to tell where their interest lie, if you look at the distance between the deities and the mortal realm and where their hands rest.

Death carefully rested his elbow on the line separating him and Nature, but his left hand was dangerously close to Bdubs. And it looked like it was ready to come down and press direcly onto the corner of the map, tilting or even flipping the chessboard over. In his right hand held the scythe, posed to swing. The edge of his scythe faced Cleo, pointing towards them like he could harvest their life whenever at his whim.

He also looked at the world from directly above (though you could say he was biased towards Cleo's point of view since he's not centered+ he was positioned behind them), meaning that he saw all lives as "equal", or have an especially detached but not uncaring view regarding the world (like a scientist looking microorganisms in his petri dish).

In contrast, Grian/Trickery leaned in close to the world, lowering his head so his eye level was almost at the ground level of the world. Like he was looking through the mortals' point of view, understanding the state of affairs through humans' moralities and values (through Etho, even, since Grian was positioned behind him).

His eyes were wide in anticipation. While he carefully kept his hands close, they were also touching the world directly; which was a thing no other god did in the piece. It was like he was waiting for the right moment to reach out and disrupt whatever that's happening on stage. As we all know, no matter how much Grian tries to restrain himself, he will press the button.

Scar is the most... detached/ distanced from the world as a whole? He reclined backwards, his visible hand resting on his knee. He might be looking at the world, or he might be looking at Grian, or was his attention on bdubs? Even with the signature :J smile on his face, he got this air of indifference. Maybe Nature believed that everything will run their fated courses without his influence.

The flowers on Scar's clothes were sunflowers (sides of his corset), roses (back of corset and forearm), and a very specific lilac brush I had to download. Flowers that were closely related to a certain series :3c

Shoutout to w4r (War for Rayuba) for the chessboard map idea. ily octs It's really funny that Bdubs, Cleo & Etho all start/ were currently standing on black tiles (<- did not count the tiles and only realised that after i started to fill in the black)

Let's talk (more) about body language and outfits and black-white ratio (I am Reaching here) (not that I wasn't in the previous part) (but I am Reaching even further)

Etho has a very clear cut B&W shading with minimal grey/cross-hatch areas. He is the least ink-blocked. He knows what his beliefs are and the lines that he will/won't cross.

He has a semi-relaxed stance, tilting back slightly. He has one hand on his hip but the other by his side remain open-palmed. He isn't not listening to new proposals, but he is considering (and judging) them carefully.

Bdubs' moss cloak and boots has a clear divide in b&w, but not his outfit (pants)/headband. Both the cloak and boots are nature-aligned: cloak is, well, made of moss; and boots to walk the earth, the only thing separating him and the dirt (though at the same time, supporting him).

Nature is clear in what it wants. While there may be bright parts mixed in shadows, and flecks of shade within the "light", Nature holds a firm stance based on layers and layers of understanding.

Bdubs is also reaching out with an open palm. He is open for dialogue, perhaps preaching/ prompting others to communicate as well.

Cleo is the darkest/ most shaded among the three. She has highlights on the edges of her armour, but overall her armour is mainly shades of grey. Unlike Etho/Bdubs whose outfits' base color is largely white/empty, the visible parts underneath her armour (gloves and pants) are solid dark. She is dressed for blood and combat. It also gives the impression that she has this fierce determination/ conviction (darker tones being more "serious").

Her posture- legs wide, slouched/ leaning forward- makes her look aggressive/ stressed. Her hands are balled up into fists, one of them holding onto the flag/banner (of Death). Even then, the way she holds the banner isn't one that says it's for morale. She holds it like a spear, like a weapon.

There's also something about fabric/ extra fabric on the characters.

Etho has the least fabric on him but he has this shawl wrapped around himself. And the shawl itself is very still/ motionless. Bdubs' outfit is very round and gives like a grounded/soft vibe while the ribbon around his head drags behind him. but Cleo has neither of those, the only fabric that waves in the air is her banner which is outside of her body/not connected to her.

=== === ===

The composition of my 2nd piece aimed to imitate the playbook's cover art (illustrated by Vash Taylor), with the slightly faded background and wispy banner. The path of the smoke meant to mimick Cleo's face stitches (as how I usually draw them), where it crawls up her right cheek, crosses her nose bridge and passes through her eye.

Shoutout to "google search: zombie hands" stock photos and silhouette images, they saved my life when I was struggling with the foreground.

If you read through all this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and hope everything will be going splendid for you in the month of August!! Even if you didn't and just swiped past after realising there's too many words behind the read more I wish you the same :D

Once again, please check the fics if you are interested in the AU!! Dust, Flesh, and Bones is a multi-chaptered long fic and before we lose the sound of our own mouths calling mine, mine, mine. is a 9k one-shot! They are both so dear to me I hold them close to me heart,,

[puppetmaster13u]

Ok, Red Hood as a Crime Boss in the Meat Marionette AU.

He wields two enormous custom handguns (I'm talking like Alucard-from-Helsing sized guns) that can combine into a sniper rifle al-la Arkham Knight.

Harley Quinn is his right hand woman (when she saw what Mr. J did to that little Robin, she finally realized just how much of a monster he was, and she ended up protecting Red Hoods 'cocoon', and now sorta considers Hood her 'son')

So there's that scene in Under the Red Hood where all the drug lords are sitting around a table like 'Who called this meeting?' 'I thought you did?' 'Wasn't me.'

Suddenly the table is riddled with bullets.

'My baby boy called y'all!' It's Harley Quinn with an AK-47 on the catwalk above.

'Yer all workin' fer him now! Kick up 40% to him, no sellin' ta kids, and you'll have protection from the cops AND the Bat! Sound good?'

'OK crazy bitch, why the fuck should we kick it with your-'

Huge ass bat monster in a blood red cloak (that may or may not be made of human skin) and a fucked up face drops from the ceiling with a duffle bag full of severed heads.

Bricks are shat.

(Sorry for spaming you with ideas!)

Honestly, this wouldn't work for Meat Marionettes- but as an AU or scene in general? I think it's hilarious.

Harley & Jason should not be allowed to team up in other people's opinions, they're going to end up blowing something up on a good day.

Taking over all of the Underbelly (practically) overnight? There are prayers being had.

[m0e-ru]

guys tgeres something wrong with my employee

[icyblogs]

flesh and bone

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Years finally caught up to you, finally knowing enough to summon a creature able to fulfill things beyond your wildest imagination. So why is it that you're now finding out that everything was orchestrated from the very start? Or: A DND au where a human falls into the clutches of a fiend and his guard dog. (chapter 2!) Patron!Ghost x Fem!Reader x Warlock!Soap WC: 7.2K [AO3] First chapter -> Next Chapter Warnings: dark fic!! dubcon touching, noncon kissing, mentions of death, paranoia, gaslighting, reader has a backstory to make sense for plot, reader is a little silly, johnny being an overall menace, ghost doing ghost things.

Time came and passed, but it was nothing discernable. Consciousness not quite ever being fully up and running the times you did briefly wake up. There were voices- you think- but it was hard to tell. And with the sound came the feeling of phantom hands, fingers trailing over your skin. Limbs being moved, the brief moment of pain being settled with hushed whispers of apologies. It was hard to think, hard to function. Darkness spreads. Sand trickles through the hourglass. The sun rises and falls, the hours turning into days. 

It wasn’t waking up with a gasp, that would be too theatrical. Too novel of an idea, of waking up so sudden and everything being fine and dandy. That you’d be up and raring to go. It was a slow process, one that made every nerve flare up at once- merely the process of peeling your eyelids open enough to have some sort of idea of what had happened to you. Blearily looking around from your limited vantage point, gaze floating around aimlessly, not able to properly focus on anything. The area was dimly lit for one- almost to the point of making it even more difficult to properly take a look at everything. 

An attempt to lift your head from the object below it- soft yet solid- was made before a jolt of lightning seemed to shoot down your spine, curling through your nerve endings and then back again, ending back at the nape of your neck. A choked whimper makes it out through clenched teeth, a grimace painting your features. Your brain feels like mush, surroundings blurring to the point of becoming unrecognizable. Not wanting to move your head, let alone anything above your shoulders in fear of retribution striking down yet again.

The sound of a chair creaking resounds throughout the room, and it was difficult to remember any sense of self preservation, eyes continuing to roll around in a weak attempt to figure out exactly what was going on. It was hard exactly to remember what had happened- you .. were somewhere. The mountains, right? Where were you–

“Took ye long enough.” Too loud though his voice was barely above a normal volume, and your eyes squeeze close as if that would cause the onslaught of noise to dissipate. “Ah ‘m sorry hen, forgot you’d still be a wee bit sensitive.” Hushed this time, and when you mustered the strength- his blue eyes were staring straight back at you. Distant thoughts drift through your subconsciousness. The.. half-elf, right? The blue was darker than you’d remembered: Iolite, sodalite, lapis lazuli in a swirl of an emotion you couldn’t quite catch before his brow furrows in what seemed to be concern. He looked familiar- though.. Different. More rough- more aged; his hair longer in this style, flowing down to the nape of his neck. Scars covered his face, though it was hard to pick which one exactly to focus on: the one by his chin, over his eye, adorning his temple. Your eyes fall half-lidded, struggling to remain in the present.

A frown graces your lips, one he was quick to lean forwards to do something about. Encroaching in your personal space like he owned it, like you were friends, like you anything but strangers. There wasn’t a moment nor opportunity to move as one of his large hands cups the back of your head, careful of the wound near it- his other hand coming up and wiping the crust from your eyes, his fingers almost trembling. His skin was warm, but rough. You could only stare dumbfounded, letting the man move you like a doll as your tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips. He watches the motion unblinkingly, his own lips parting in response, breath catching in his chest.

“Y-You..” A cough, resulting in swallowing a few times to get your bearings. Voice hoarse, like sand coating your tongue. Your mouth opens and then closes, repeating that a few times as you then sniffle. Feeling the familiar burn rise to your eyes, tears further blurring what was already starting to become disconnected from the world, one of his thumbs brushing away the moisture trickling down your skin. Trying to move, but your limbs weren’t necessarily cooperating. Like a puppet with its strings cut off, privy to his hands which seemed to be holding the strings. Everything felt heavy. Lost. Disconnected. “Where..?”

To his credit, his expression didn’t even once waver that you could tell. Eyes fervently bright, betraying his weak attempt at comforting you. His head cocks, leaning forwards and nudging at your face with his nose, a grimace painting your features as he inhales deeply. An elven custom you didn’t know about maybe? “Shh.. Sh.. Yer safe now.” One hand still cupping the back of your head he leans back for a brief moment, procuring a silver chalice. He starts to lift your head and upon seeing the immediate discomfort at the movement, he only coos, hand leaving your cheek. His eyebrows furrow, scanning your face, and then he takes a swig of the liquid.

There was but a brief moment of still air before his lips came crashing against yours. Any thought you might’ve had immediately leaves as sheer panic makes its way through the foggy seams instead. Wiggling like a mouse scrambling to try and not get caught in a trap it hadn’t fully been aware of. And like adhesive, his hand firmly sticks to and cradles the back of your head, his other pressing against your sternum when another attempt to feebly twist away was made. Lukewarm liquid spills down your skin, as he squeezes a bit harder, your lips parting in a garbled gasp as he bullies his way into your mouth, transferring the fluid into your system.

There was a shift in the room as his body hovered over yours. What you now vaguely recognize was actually water going down your throat, similar to his tongue as it seems to ignore your lack of hygiene, trying to steal your breath away, licking your teeth, your gums, trying to consume your essence like a dog getting a bone as a treat- like he was trying desperately to get your soul intertwined with him; to connect you two together. More water spills as the bed shifts slightly against the wall in a rhythmic pattern for but a brief moment, glassy eyes wide as you stare back at his blissful expression as he groans into your mouth.

It was maybe a minute at most but it felt like ages, dizzy and lightheaded as he finally pulled back from you. “See, ‘s all good, isn’t it?” The blue eyed elf cheeks were flushed, the connected string of saliva between the two of you being taken away as his tongue ran from the corner of your lips up to your nose. He then proceeds to rest his forehead against yours, his even breathing combined with your haggard ones in the small space, as if finally recognizing you weren’t responding to what he just did. “Need mor’ water, hen?” You think you were going to be sick, eyes once more rolling to the side to try and peer away from him, feeling weighed down to the bed by more than just his hands.

Disbelief. Panic. Terror. So many emotions washes over your features in an amalgamation of just a whirlwind of ‘what the fuck’. Your head was pounding, the only sound in the room was a consistent pulse, badump badump badump. Unable to stop the steady trickles of teardrops as they fall, and his head tilts slightly against your skin once more, falling forwards as he rubs his temple against yours, his facial hair tickling your cheek. He inhales deeply once more, unabashedly, before letting out what seemed to be a sigh of content.

He speaks your name softly, a hushed whisper. “Why’re ye so quiet?” The tears start to fall faster and you hiccup, facial expression crumpling. He immediately pulls back, eyes scanning your expression, his own filtering into one of confusion and then adjusting itself to an easy going smile. You were definitely going to be sick. “‘S Johnny, remember? None of them tears, ye hear me? There’s nae need for ‘em. You’re safe now, yeah?” 

Johnny? John. Ah. Right, that was his name. How could you have forgotten?

Johnny adjusts his hands, one coming up to cup your cheek, squeezing ever so slightly as you start to speak. “I don’ feel so good-”

“Need a bucket?” Another wave of confusion hits you as you squint up at him, watching as he continues to smile, thumb brushing away one of the many tears despite how they just seem replaced by more twofold.  It was getting harder and harder to tell what was real and what was not- he.. kissed you, right? Shoved his tongue down your throat so why was he acting like nothing had happened? Was it truly a custom you weren’t aware of? You weren’t friends- hell, you barely remember the guy besides he was the one that gave you that dumb list you’ve spent years of your life on. And along with his stupidly blue eyes. And dumb haircut. 

Stomach twisting and churning, gulping hard as your eyebrows pull together. He must’ve known something you didn’t because his hands left you, and in but a brief moment, you were over the side of the bed, emptying nothing but water and stomach acid into the steel of a bucket. Ignoring the searing pain shooting up your spine as you cough out phlegm, gagging as you spill your guts. Your throat felt tight, constrained and small as one of his hands held back your hair the best he could, the other gently rubbing your back- the heat of his palm prominent even through the thick fabric of what you were wearing. “I ken, I ken, it’s hard the first time. Gets better ye know, the more you come into contact with ‘im.” 

You only hack up more bile, sniffling as snot and tears run down your face, finding it hard to breathe as you rasp into the bucket. As if purging the waste and exiling it from your body. Eventually the fit dies down, as does the pain in your neck falling to a dull throb. Noticeable, but not enough to make you want to never move again. He begins to slowly lead you out of bed, easily handling your weight as you stumble around like a newly born faun, trying not to trip over your own feet as he leads you to an ornate bathroom. A light fixture buzzes on- gold, blinding. 

Nothing was really.. Getting explained. Despite your garbled and weak protests, he helps you use the bathroom, not bothering to look away as he helps you clean up. His broad frame crowding you against the countertop as he brushes your teeth, holding your stare as he does so. Smile widening as he makes you squeak, one hand spread across your jugular, the other making your eyes flutter around as he scrubs at your tongue and teeth, choking on the bristles when he goes back too far. 

And when he brings your befuddled form back to what you can now see is a bedroom of sorts- also grand, embellished. Larger than what anything you’ve seen before- than what you felt you deserved: it was easy to think you’re in Castle Waterdeep or Dragonspear Castle. Tucked away and brought to a place far above where a person of your status should be, somewhere that should’ve been inaccessible. During all this you try to talk to the man as he dragged you to one of the wardrobes; the questions you ask never getting a real answer- always something cryptic that you couldn't digest properly. Honestly it felt like riddles, like he was trying to imitate a sphinx- purposefully being cryptic to mess with your head further. 

“I- I can dress.. myself.” He only shushes you like you were some sort of fussy child, as if you didn’t know any better yet. Maneuvering you as he pleases, dressing you in a long, drapey gown, embroidered with gold, layers upon layers. Unashamedly pawing at skin, hands lingering far too long to be considered ‘gentlemanly’, squeezing as he pleases. You were dressed and adorned like some sort of lady of high nobility, extravagant jewelry hanging from your neck, from your wrists- loud and noisy, like a bell going off saying ‘here I am!’ every time you moved.

“You wan’ breakfast, hen?” His voice was a low murmur, nose rubbing against your neck absentmindedly, hands trailing down the long sleeves to your hands, interlacing the fingers together. “Of course ye do, you’ve been out cold fer a week.” He moves your hands to your stomach, chin hooking into place on your shoulder, body towering over yours. The bracelets chime in response. 

This..must’ve been some sort of fever dream.. Right? What was happening? Why was he here with you- so many ‘whys’, and yet no answer seems to be greeting you. Maybe this was the feywild, and you’ve fallen under a charm; perhaps this is just an odd hallucination. Or maybe.. The afterlife? The fugue plane, somewhere within the City of Judgement, waiting to be taken to the Crystal Spire, my soul to be judged and appraised by Kelemvor. 

There was only one reasonable conclusion- one that made sense considering you’d saw him all those years ago after the incident, like a grim reaper ready to claim its prize or like a devil scoping out its next contract- “Are you a Baatezu?” It was a mere mumble, and he huffs out a laugh, tightening his grip on you for a brief moment, before letting go and spinning you towards him. 

“Do I look like a devil to ye?” He muses, eyes filled with amusement. As if the thought of him being from the Nine Hells was humorous. He continues to smile despite your clear hesitance- so warm as it carves lines into his cheeks, his eyes crinkling. It felt so genuine; hospitable and welcoming that you almost had a hard time imagining him being a bad guy. This all must’ve been some big miscommunication right? Something got lost in translation; he.. He’s helped you. There’s a roof over your head, he has kept you alive for the past supposed- he hasn’t necessarily harmed you right? Kissed you sure- but he was just.. Giving you water. Johnny.. is just a bit too touchy for your liking, but harmless, you think- like an overzealous dog with too much energy to go around. 

“Well, maybe- I..” Your neck throbs as you eye him apprehensively, and then the same gaze drifts down to the bracelets donning your wrists, experimentally flexing your fingers, hearing the metals cling against each-other as your wrists move. “..I just.. I’m not dead?” That sparks a laugh out of him, a full bodied one that makes your ears burn with embarrassment, faltering as you start to backtrack. “I- Well- I only meant-” 

“I ken, I ken- I know what ye meant. It’s scary for ye, isn’t tha’ right? A new place. But yer here now, okay?” He interrupts you off gently, reassuring you through your clear apprehension, as he starts to herd your body towards the door. A shepherd leading a lamb, blindly to whatever fate waits them. 

A grandiose hallway greets you, one side being doors, the other sprawling windows: the views simply breathtaking. The scenery is enough to momentarily distract you from the situation- offering a brief moment of solace. Endless rolling hills stretch as far as the eye could see, adorned with a vibrant tapestry of flowers in every hue of the rainbow. The sunlight shines brightly over the landscape; casting a sort of glow over it that makes it seem like one of those places straight out of a fairytale- like something only seen in a book. It was enough to make your steps falter and Johnny accounts for the movement, or lack thereof, slowing to a halt as he too peers out the scenery beyond the panes.

“Oh it’s.. Beautiful.. But where exactly is ‘here’?” 

“I know it is. What’da see hen?” He asks instead- voice hushed as if afraid he’d break the atmosphere, no longer looking outside but at you instead.

Your mouth opens and then closes, and you gesture outwardly with your arm, one of the bangles glinting in the light. Your eyebrows furrow as a sudden realization hits you, wasn’t it almost Midwinter? “Well..  well there’s flowers I-.. in Midwinter. And the sun.. I- Are we even along the Sword Coast? Or..” You try to pick your brain, thinking, unsure. You were in Faerûn, right? Your stomach twists, swallowing down the bile- forcing a smile on your lips. He saved you, you repeat, unsure if you were just trying to convince yourself at this point or not. Making it easier that way- not wanting to confront the truth. “Maybe up at the Dalelands?”

He makes a sort of noncommittal hum, and as you twist your head to look up at him, he nods. His gaze travels to the window once more, almost melancholic, before his jaw clenches and then he looks back at you with a smile, just a little bit tighter than before. “Yeah. Now how ‘bout a wee bit of breakfast, hm?”

More questions add to the ever expanding stack as you walk alongside him. The marble feels borderline warm beneath your bare feet as he leads you down to a pair of doors, and upon entering it was large, with a sprawling table: fit for a small country it seemed. What must’ve been a hundred chairs lined the grand hall. The ceiling soars high above, reminiscent of a cathedral back in the city, adorned with oversized chandeliers that seem to dwarf any you’ve seen before. The crystals catch the light from the rose window, creating a mesmerizing display of refracted colors that seem to dance along the wooden surfaces. It looked like a place for Gods to dine in- or a king or queen; not you. You used to be of nobility, sure, but that lifestyle had died and the title with it all those years ago. Practically living as a commoner for the past five years rather than someone of high class, and well, you certainly didn’t belong here, despite being dressed in the part to be. Out of touch and way out of your element. 

Johnny escorts you to the table, making a point to sit you down next to the chair at the end of the table. The elf sort of hesitates, eyes glancing at the floor next to the chair before making his place known across from you. He makes some sort of gesture- and mute, placid faces approach- seemingly out of the dark recesses of the room as they start to work around the table efficiently. No words were exchanged, solely focused on the singular task at hand- not even stopping when you’d ask what was being served. 

“Naw bonnie, you’ll like it- made sure they knew to get all yer favorites.” Johnny starts to eat, devouring the meal with such gusto as if he hadn’t had a morsel in days- his words not fully registering in your mind. But as soon as they do it’s all you hear. They play like a broken record, causing you to stiffen, the room spinning as your gaze travels down to your plate. Lo and behold- there it all was all laid out before you. Your gaze travels from item to item- a sense of unease creeping up on you- everything you loved is there, down to the little honeycakes your mother used to make, decorated with powdered sugar and frosting swirled on top.  

Your hands firmly clasp one over the other, biting down on your lip harshly, the wound on the back of your neck beginning to tingle. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Of course ye are.” He remarks dismissively, mouth full of food. “Just open yer bonnie mouth and eat. Unless ye need me tae feed you?” 

It might have been a joke- but his heavy gaze was anything but funny. Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. Hunger does gnaw at your stomach, but at this point you think you might be sick again. “Are we in the feywild?” His fork drops, and you hold your gaze on the table before raising it to meet his. His eyes seemed darker- the shadows more prominent, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. 

“Naw why’re you continuing on and on and on. I told ye-” Johnny’s eyebrows furrow as he scowls, like he was reprimanding an unruly pet, looking annoyed in every sense of the word. “-Ye were safe now, and yet you’re tryin’ tae make it seem like ah’m the bad guy here. Dae ye wan’ to make ‘im mad? Cause’ ye won’ like ‘im for a welcoming party. I’ve been so nice to ye. I’m the one here-” His voice was growing louder, starting to look angry more than sad- looking one moment away from going across the table. Blue eyes wide, nails digging into the wood grooves of the table, scratching little crescent shaped indents into them. “Ah’m the one whose gone through all the trouble cause i’d knew ye’d be perfect and now all ‘m seeing is an ungrateful little-”

He recoils slightly, as if suddenly choked and he coughs, face contorting in dismay. His complexion drains of color, betraying his unease and he gulps hard. You shift uncomfortably, a grimace of your own painting your features- too much happening at once to properly digest what was being said. Only the fact that you needed to get out and leave. He tilts his head, muttering something in a language- Elvish, you think, before he picks up his fork, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than necessary. “Naw, ‘m sorry bonnie, didn’t mean to scare ye.” He apologizes, gaze meeting yours with a pitiful attempt at reassurance, though his smile seems strained. Trying to calm you down, if you were to take a guess. But his teeth were just a bit too sharp- eyes too wild, reminding you that at the end of the day he was a stranger, one that was easily set off at the slightest bit of provocation it seemed. Admitting it to yourself was only inevitable despite how you were trying to make excuses: you could banter back and forth endlessly, but he abducted you. ..You think. The logistics aren’t fully there. Saved you from certain death sure- thinking back to the fuzzy memories on the mountain, the ritual that yielded no results. But if feigning cooperation for now meant finding an opportunity to go back home then so be it.

“It’s alright.” You utter, though the sentiment was far from genuine. Yet his face seemed to light up at the words, seemingly oblivious to your lack of sincerity. Accepting it at face value. You reluctantly pick up the fork, his keen gaze fixed upon you as you force yourself to take a bite of the food. “Oh this is delightful.” You lie, a weak attempt to mend the fractured atmosphere. The falsehood tastes as bitter and lifeless as the food in your mouth.

He beams, looking like the incarnate of the sun- seeming to light up the room. “Ah’m glad you think so. Had the chefs making food every day, till’ you woke up. Took yer sweet time though huh? Like our own precious sleeping beauty you were- a bonnie thing.” He winks when he meets your gaze again, and you gulp hard- cheeks hurting from how hard you were trying to keep your smile afloat. And like a ship in a storm, its hull damaged- filling with water, trying to make it to shore. It’s only a matter of time before it sinks.

This time though- you weren’t stupid; you caught the word. The fork mindlessly pushing around food comes to a pause, poking at the bear. “Hey how’d you find me anyway? There was a blizzard.”

“Donnae matter, does it? Yer here now, safe.” He reaches out with another plate of the honeycakes, and you eye the sickly sweet glaze cascading down onto the plate. And vaguely you’re brought back to the present- feeling a bit like a fly caught in a vat of syrup or amber. Stuck. 

“I want a real answer.”

“And I gave ye one- now what’s the problem hen? I haven’t mistreated ye have I?” His tone sharpens, and you unwittingly deepen your own predicament. Digging your grave- shoveling out another foot of dirt every time you open your mouth- maybe he’ll do you the courtesy of taking you to where your family was buried when he kills you. Your throat constricts, watching as his grip around the plate tightens. 

“That’s not the point. I- I want to go home.”

In a sudden, jerky movement he rises out of his chair, and you hastily follow suit, stumbling over the hem of your dress, eyes wide. Your jewelry clanking loudly as he maneuvers around the table, looking like bull with far too much energy- “Naw, what did I jus’ say?” He snarls, advancing with two strides forwards for every one step back you make. His words tumble out almost incoherently, hands gesturing erratically as he closes in on you, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. Spittle flying and landing on your cheek in his fervor. “This whole place was designed with ye in mind- and ye want to go home? To where huh? Where is yer home- tell me hen.” 

Your mouth opens and then closes, words stammering, taking a hesitant step back and he only follows, encroaching in your space. His hands linger near you, but refrains from grabbing you- instead choosing to grip the chair next to him. “I want you tae tell me where’d ye go.” He finally breathes out, chest falling and rising with huff, nostrils flaring as he stares down at you. A long bang resounds through the room as his fist hits the table- and at your startled reaction his lips stretch into a grin at your silence- swallowing thickly as your eyes dart around like a stuck rabbit. “Tha’s right, ye don’ know do yah bonnie? Las’ five years you’ve been following tha’ little list down right to the last T, getting far far awae from that shithole you called home.” 

Your pulse seems to falter, arteries constricting, the flow of blood in your veins slowing to a near standstill, as if coagulating with fear, and ultimately slowing to a halt. Every nerve in your body tingles with dread, every sound feeling amplified. The air feels heavy, suffocating, as if pressing down on your chest, making it hard to draw in a full breath. It only made sense that he knew about it, I mean he was the one that gave the list to you- but the implication of how he’s been watching you– you struggle to steady your trembling limbs and calm the racing thoughts in your mind. The unbridled urge to run arises.

 “I- I don’t-”

“You don’t- You don’t what? Ye don’ know what ahm talkin’ about hen? Tha’ what yer trying tae tell me?” He mocks, head tilting- taking advantage of the way you stumble for something to say. He leans further into your personal bubble, leering down at you. 

“Stay back.” You manage in a shaky gasp stumbling backwards as you hold your hands out in front of you. 

“What’s the problem?” His laugh seems to echo around the room, and he follows you, blue eyes wide and unblinking- “It’s fate. This is where ye were meant to be- Here with us-”

“Stay away from me!” There was another word spoken- one foreign to your lips but not to his- and his eyes widened, unable to do anything in time as embers spark in the air. A rush of something equally foreign and unnerving washes over you as it leaves your tongue, like a sudden wave crashing upon a shore. The feeling was indescribable- the sense of connection thrumming through your very being; as if awakening something long dormant in you- untapped potential. Something hot- embers?- begins to manifest, a sense of otherworldly energy fills the air, crackling with a palpable intensity. A surge of heat wells up inside of you, building up to a crescendo as thin sheets of flame bursts out of your fingertips, and he barely has a second to drop before the torrent of searing heat engulfs everything above him. The heat is intense, blistering hot, and the smell of singed air fills your nostrils. Burnt meat and honey was there- charred, smokey, slightly sweet.

You can only stare dumbfounded- looking down at your hands and then at the aftermath, stumbling back. You throw a hand to your mouth, still warm from the unexpected surge of power- stomach rolling with unease. What? How did you- How was this possible– Johnny looks equally surprised- his face flushed, tilting his head back to look at the burnt wood and then back at your stunned form. His eyes fall half-lidded, making a movement to rise, expression twisting into something you can’t quite put your finger on, lips tugging into a grin. You don’t wait to try and decipher what he was thinking, instinctively turning and fleeing- heart pounding in your chest.

Gathering up your dress to the best of your ability- you turn pivot on your heel and sprint away, the clatter of your jewelry like a warning bell with each frantic step. It felt like the jewelry were more cursed collars and shackles the more you think of it, each jangle announcing your presence to anyone who might be listening. You burst out of the dining room, tearing down the hallway from which you came- desperate for escape, gasping for breath as panic tightens its grip around your throat. Sentences come to mind- each one stirring conflicting feelings.

‘The ritual would give you great power.’

‘It would provide you strength.’

‘Protection for yourself.’

You continue to flee as fast as your unsteady legs can carry you, though your pace hardly qualifies as swift, your wobbly strides barely enough to keep you upright. The hallway seems to warp and narrow before your eyes, blurring with each frantic blink. “Bonnie!” His voice echoes out loudly behind you and you only hobble along faster. Like a faun trying to outrun a predator, each step a scramble for safety. 

The sound of his pursuit fades gradually until it suddenly ceases, leaving you to wonder as you steal a glance backwards, only to see Johnny faltering in his step- expression looking almost reverent. Dare you say almost excited- dazed, and then your attention snaps back to the present as you collide with something unexpectedly soft- a wall that shouldn’t have been there. And you don’t remember there being anything necessarily obstructing in the hallway. 

The impact leaves you stunned- a buzzing in your head becoming known before swiftly dissipating as if it was never there. Your eyes drift up, up, up- and towering above you is the tallest, broadest man you’ve ever encountered. Crossing eyes with death itself- you find yourself entranced. It was fitting, with a skull over his face- skin pale as a ghost- terrifying. They say eyes are the window to the soul. So what kind of soul would it be when the eyes you were staring at were a deep abyss- as tainted as his seemed to be? Dark pools of tiger’s eye, mali garnet, topaz, amber- dravite tourmaline. Clouded and hardened by something you couldn’t quite understand- and you recoil, all but shoving yourself off of the imposing figure. His hands twitch in response, tilting his head down at you.

“I- ‘m sorry.” You almost instinctively skitter back a few feet, jewelry jingling noisily in the tense silence. 

“Johnny causin’ you trouble?” Though sounding much more human compared to before, the gruff familiarity of his voice is not lost on you and you’re brought back to a cold mountain- a warm touch, a promise. Your neck burns, eyes squeezing shut before you hesitantly raise them back to the broad expanse of his chest. You force yourself to give some sort of indication that you heard him, trembling before the being in front of you- shaking your head curtly- hands scrunching up your dress in a tight grip.

His dark eyes look down at you, and not even looking up at him, the weight of his stare was heavy.. you’ve never felt so small in your life, unable to muster the courage nor the willpower to look him in the face again. Not wanting to see death personified glaring back at you. It wasn’t too often you’ve pondered your existence in life but in this monster’s presence you’ve found yourself contemplating it more often than not. And with that, it was painstakingly easy to realize how absolutely inferior you were to him.

Throughout your life, you at least knew of your place in the world you lived. A human, where you wish you could’ve had the chance to be born as a half-orc, at least then you’d be strong. Or an aasimar, maybe then you’d be able to live up properly to others expectations and be worthy of something- take up an oath and be a paladin or a cleric, being able to properly protect those closest to you. No.. you know you are. Though making up a large majority of the population, it was easy to forget that sometimes. You.. were you. Plain. Unordinary. You don’t hear of humans winning in wars or becoming rulers. You don’t hear tales of humans doing all this- no. You hear tales of dragons soaring through the skies. Of a whole life surrounded by beings who were just.. Ascended from bloodlines so much more interesting than yours. Hell, this is why you’ve spent years of your life looking for something to give you that power. To make you special. And now that you had it.. It was weird. 

So it honestly wasn’t too hard to describe how you thought he was looking at you; how you thought he viewed you. What you imagined his expression to look like, had you actually looked back at him: Like an executioner with one hand on the lever to drop the floor beneath you, to have the rope tighten around your neck. Like a butcher as their cleaver comes swinging down towards a cow’s neck, ready to provide a merciful death or prolonging its misery. A falcon ready to swoop down for its next meal. Or a boot as it comes down on an ant whether or not to squash it out of existence. Like a wolf ready to shut its maws around you and shake until you’ve gone limp in its grasp. Compliant. Lifeless. 

But instead your gaze was planted firmly on the pristine marble, bottom lip quivering as you blink slowly, vision blurring and turning the sharp edges fuzzy. Cotton filling your ears, sounds becoming muffled, save for the steady rapidfire pulse resounding through your head. This was the protection that was promised- this was the life that you wanted right? So what was this overwhelming pressure being in his presence? This was who you summoned- you think. Ultimately, it felt like broken promises, shattered ideals- forced to live in what reality you had conjured up for yourself. No- you could tell now that this is what you had called for- what you had asked for was a fiend- no an eldritch being, maybe a God? God might be too pure of a word for him- the devil was more akin to what you’d imagine him being. There was no mistaking it; there was no wolf in sheep’s clothing. No, he knew what he was. He was confident in it even. A predator. 

It felt like the space was closing in, the long hallway forcing the pair of you to be in close proximity- a sort of draw, a leash if you would. Taking another step back was a thought, a good one really- except for the fact that the shadows seemed to slink forwards, grasping at the soles of your feet, rising up your calves and grounding you in place, chaining you down. The mere idea of trying to move away from him was a mistake in itself.

There was a momentary lapse in time as this happened, and then immediately your breath catches in your throat as the back of your neck burns as if ignited. Sending jolts of pure energy into your flesh, dark magic swirling around the air that your untrained eyes couldn’t see, but your body could certainly feel the effects of. The power that exudes off his very being. Knees crumpling to the ground beneath you, not given the right to stand, to even be at some sort of the same level as him. Flesh crawling, skin rippling- that morning’s breakfast threatening to come up, tasting the acidic taste on your tongue- bitter and pungent.

Cold sweat drips down your temple as you rasp for air at his feet, falling to all fours as each breath feels like it might be the last. Tremors run down your spine, shaking as you urge your muscles to move to no avail. Society talks of fight or flight, but always seems to forget the most common one: freeze. “Pl— ease.” Trying to get out the words; trying to beg, trying to get him to understand, not even knowing if he’d even care to give what you had to say a moment of his time. Of his consideration. Asking to be let go, to leave- for mercy- it was difficult to place what you had wanted in that moment. You were just a human and he was something beyond your comprehension.

 You didn’t realize he had dropped to a crouch, cold fingers brushing over the raised skin with a deep rumble: a hum, it was hard to decipher. You flinch anyway. His nail traces over the freshly acquired wound, drawing a low whimper out of your throat as he just kept petting and prodding- as if wanting the pain to be a reminder. 

A pause.

Maybe two.

“Settle, little bird.” Another choked sob rips out of your throat- wet and sticky with phlegm, eyes squeezing shut as his hand- calloused, large- dips down, cupping your jaw and raising you to meet his eyes, though you refuse to open them. He didn’t sound angry, at least not outright. It somehow felt worse to hear a lilt of disappointment brushes along his tone, and it causes more tears to fall. Upon the realization that you weren’t going to open your eyes, his hand moves to your cheeks, squishing them together and making your mouth into a little ‘o’ shape. “Gave you a chance and you’d rather run than stay ‘ere under my protection.” His grip tightens, and this time you don’t dare to open your eyes, afraid to see the beast mere inches from you. His breath fans across your face- surprisingly warm. “Do I have to provide a reminder that you’re mine, hm? Is that it? Have you already forgotten who was providing you a new life?”  

“N-No-” His grip tightens further, cutting you off what you had to say. It’s a familiar sensation, one that’s become far too common lately. 

“Wasn’t a question.” His low voice rumbles, and you whimper- footsteps approaching that you now recognize as Johnny’s. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, prodding at the space he had created- and you grit your teeth, a defiant response that causes him to click his tongue at your actions. Your neck sparks with more pain before you unhinge your jaw and the sensation fades. He hums thoughtfully. “It’s alright though, you didn’t know any better, Johnny wasn’t treating you right huh?”

“That’s naw true sir- she’s just upset cause she wants tae go home-” 

“I wasn’t asking you.” The pad of his thumb rubs along your teeth, and he removes his fingers, grasping your chin and jerking your head upwards. There was a sort of whine behind you, and you gulp hard. “You were just scared weren’t ya? You wanted the devil you summoned to be the first thing you saw when you woke up?” His words, though blunt, strike a nerve that makes you cringe- nose scrunching up as more tears fall. “It’s all right now- pretty little bird is just confused and lost. Isn’t tha’ right?” 

His words cause you to peer open your eyes hesitantly, dark pools staring down at you. Your gaze drops to the hand holding your head, which then trails up to a pale arm, decorated with what seemed to be swirling black ink- symbols and hieroglyphs of things you didn’t quite recognize. You sniffle, shrugging unsurely- and he coos, fingers lifting up one of the many necklaces, looking down at one of the shining jewels with a smile on his scarred lips. He lifts the gem so it is within eyesight; green glittering in the light. Emerald.

He lets it fall back against your skin, a deep sigh leaving his lips- “I should’ve been there when you woke up, ‘s all my fault really.” The warm light from the outside seems to grow even warmer, the colors in the hallway shifting to shades of red- darker and darker. “Wouldn't have let you leave that room if i’d known you be such a fussy girl.” 

“No- That’s- that’s not–” Your facial expression crumples, hands jutting out in front of you- repeating the same word from before. Only this time.. No embers shootout- nothing. Not even a hint of well, anything happens. Johnny takes a step closer, hovering. Waiting.

The man- the devil- chuckles- a low rumble. “You think i’d let you use my own magic against me? Don’t be daft- did being up in the cold make you lose all sense?” He breathes in deeply, guiding you up to your feet- and your eyes catch to the outside, choking back a sob at the vastly different change of scenery. The sky was a crimson, an artificial moon casting an eerie glow over the ground below. What seemed like flowers had morphed into some sort of city- a labyrinthine structure sprawling beneath from how high up you were. In the distance seemed to be volcanoes- billowing smoke, threatening to erupt, and you feel your legs start to give beneath you- as you let out a garbled gasp, eyes wide. He only steadies you, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to his chest. “You just need a reminder that you’re gonna be loved now, isn’t that right? That this is where you’re gonna be from now on. It’s okay, Johnny and I will give you one, yes?” One of his fingers tugs at the corner of your lip, coaxing a smile, “Smile. You’re home now.”

[kennykenbee]

absolutely devoured @offleshandboneau 's fic and had to draw the guy ever.

and these nerds

Here is the fic btw

[ceciliadreamson]

Also imma just refresh everyone on what each person is in the AU:

Cecilia: Paranormal researcher

Outis: Monster Hunter (well technically a mercenary since she’s hired for this)

Ryoshu: a new vampire in town who is the one responsible for the missing civilians recently

I’ll also explain their dynamics a little more below

(TW: Blood and toxic yuri cause this is a vampire AU haha)

Cecilia → Ryoshu: Finds Ryoshu absolutely fascinating and wants to know everything about her. She’ll go through great length just to gain the vampire’s attention (including using a civilian or herself as bait). Cecilia also thinks Ryoshu covered in blood is one of the most attractive things she’s ever seen + her smirk makes her have butterflies in her stomach. Does she want to kiss the vampire…maybe so.

Cecilia → Outis: Adores Outis a lot! She doesn’t really listen to Outis’s warnings about late night walks and pursuing the supernatural though. (She’s gonna get killed one day but that’s ok!) Cecilia knows Outis will always protect her anyways. Also, Outis becoming a monster hunter is the main reason Cecilia became a paranormal researcher! It gives her an excuse to explore her own interests while being able to hang out with Outis just a little more.

Ryoshu → Cecilia: Thinks that the morally ambiguous researcher is funny and decides to keep her alive a little longer. She was going to kill Cecilia during her first few attempts of capturing Ryoshu, but couldn’t figure out what’s that weird feeling bubbling up inside. It was a mix of intrigue, amusement, and perhaps a hint of attraction. So basically Ryoshu decides to watch Cecilia for a while, making Cecilia think her traps aren’t working when they kinda are

Ryoshu → Outis: Wants to splatter Outis’s blood on the walls but also make out while injured…? Ryoshu thinks that her own killings are a work of art and adding a monster hunter to that collection would be an excellent idea. The monster that overpowered the one that was sent to slay her, what a work of art. Ryoshu also enjoys getting under Outis’s skin while being chased is really fun. Also will blow her smoke right in Outis’s face just to rile her up even more (her angered face is oddly a sight she wants to see more of)

Outis → Cecilia: Desires to keep Cecilia safe at all costs, but it’s so hard to keep her in check. What happens if she gets captured by the vampire or Outis finds her dead in the middle of her mission? She doesn’t think she could live with herself if anything happens. Outis is also aware that Cecilia trails her whenever she has a new mission, but tries to play dumb. At this point, it’s better if Outis is aware of where she is and play stupid so Cecilia is in noticeable spots for her. Behind that cold strict exterior is a woman who just wants her beloved friend safe.

Outis → Ryoshu: Hired to kill the vampire but is starting to question her own feelings. Even if she has her kopis at Ryoshu’s neck, she doesn’t know what’s holding her back from cutting off the head immediately. Outis knows she has to get the job done so she can get paid as well as keep her loved ones safe. Ryoshu is the only thing standing between all of that, yet why does that sinister look in her eyes appear so mesmerizing? These two have the classic vampire hunter x vampire dynamic where they both wanna kill each other while having hints of romantic tension between them. I’m running out of writing juice someone help

Anyways ahaha,,,,CC x CC stuff is hard to think of. I think it’s because it’s not my OC, so I have the urge to stay true to canon even though it’s gonna diverge from it. OC x CC though that’s extremely easy to write HAHSHSJAJ

[shad0w-s0lverxd]

"I am the Real Sonic Now" Flesh & Bones AU lore Under the cut {+ OG sketch}:

Metal Sonic used Sonic as a skinsuit. No one knows why he did it, and when Eggman confronted him about it, he refused to acknowledge himself as "Metal Sonic" anymore. When Eggman asked why he did this, he simply replied, "Because I am the Real Sonic Now". Eggman then tried to deactivate Metal, but he disappeared the night he tried to do so. No one quite knows where he went, or what he's currently doing

AU facts: - Sonic's friends are unaware of Sonic's current state, they all just assumed he's on a vacation - Metal downloaded half of Sonic's personality into his database, meaning he gained half of Sonic's morals, personality, likes and dislikes. - Metal has a voice box, and he sounds like a distorted, robotic version of Sonic's voice - Eggman, after Metal left, went looking for him everywhere. Metal had disabled the tracking device Eggman implemented inside his code, making it harder for him to be found - Absolute Solver exists in this AU. It mysteriously seeped into Metal's code and made him do his current actions. Although it's can't control metal like how it did with Cyn Original Sketch:

Inspo for AU: - Cynessa (Murder Drones) - Flesh Sonic AU - @amytheva's Bad Future AU! Sonic (A little :>) Feel free to Reblog + Ask about this AU!!

[fandomandangstlover]

@xakumi'S GORETOBER

DAY27: INFECTION

hands y'all an au vav!box. sculk creature, or a warden in the making? guess :)

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

re: raised in amphibia marcy who is nothing but the cores host

beyond the psychological stuff im also thinking about the physical. the evil science possibilities. im just like. canonically its hinted that the core did stuff to marcys body just in the few months it had her to make its vessel more suitable. the plug ports that were apparently in her limbs bc otherwise she would be getting stabbed by those things. "this thing needs some calibration" about marcys body??? what did it mean by that??? and like u mention her being wired up to it in the original ask

anyways im up here thinking abt how much it mightve done to her if it had her for that long. if it had the same plug things installed in her limbs as she seemed to in canon shed probably need replacements if they happened when she was young enough and grew significantly since then.

also my mom used to work in the brain-computer interface industry and well. to get really any level of highly detailed or accurate data, let alone on the scale youd need to fully interface with the entire brain, you would absolutely need to have direct access to the brain rather than trying to go through the skull. theres no way this girl doesnt have a port of some kind implanted in her head for the core to directly connect to her brain.

hell maybe it doesnt wanna deal with biological organs and the problems that might arise from them. no big deal itll just have them replaced!

Aaaaagh dude i love your asks. Galaxy brain asks from my galaxy friend mutual.

Anyway. Yes i I have thought quite a bit about Marcy's whole deal. What Andrias cares about is her brainnnn that blob of grey matter that's somehow a biological supercomputer. He has no qualms in eventually getting rid of the body and keeping the brain in a jar, immortalized as an invaluable piece of hardware with the help of some shadowfish biotechnology (shhh lemme tell you a secret: he actually does care for her and love her and takes no joy in hurting her. He just doesn't love her enough to save her :3). Anyway, unfortunately, when he found this thing, her brain was surprisingly underseveloped. He had a vague awareness that the unfortunate coincidence of bipedism and viviparity so characteristic of homo sapiens resulted in them giving birth to useless, half-developed fetuses (as opposed to fully mature, egg-born pollywogs), but surely, by age three, a human would be more mature, right? He checked his archives on alien biology and, indeed, no. An average human's brain isn't fully developed until around age 25. Marcy may be smart, but she's still, by all accounts, a homo sapiens pollywog. He consults the Core. The Core wants a host. They want a body, and they want this brain. They will do with just the brain, is Andrias is too useless to secure them the body, but even if they're willing to wait for another body (stronger, bigger, more amphibian) to come around eventually, they know it won't work as well as with the original brain-body combination.

He decides to raise Marcy to be 25. He keeps her mind sharp and body healthy, or as healthy as possible. She undergoes many week-long sessions unconscious and connected to all sorts of wires as tubes. It's so normal for her, that by age 6 she knew how to get on top of the plataform or into the tank without falling, and how to put on her own oxygen mask. She always woke up feeling weak and hungry when it was over, and with one killer headache, but her dad always held the biggest fests for her with all her favorite food when it was over! She always looked forward to her sessions. Like a dog.

In these sessions, she would undergo several procedures. There's mossman, shadowfish and amphibian biotechnology involved. The point is to 1) make her brain Core-friendly - if it has many dimensions that would make things easier! And 2) translate the data from the Core into something that can be run in a biological machine. For which they need to understand and explore said machine. She only has one port, in the back of her neck, hidden by her long hair. It connects straight into her spine and her brain. In essence, these are fitting sessions. The Core is trying out their new house. Ever since she was little, they actually did use her brain to run tests and perform different functions. Most of the times it was mostly to study it, but as she grew older, they began using her whenever a function required too much energy, whenever something that would take forever to load with its own equipment, would render almost instantly with hers. They never left any data behind, erasing all evidence of their presence, and they never fully transported anything to this new extension, using only copies of data with the original files safe in the Core. The point is to leave the Core behind eventually and fully move on to this new computer, but not yet.

A few funny side effects!

Her blood is slowly growing more and more green as the years pass. This actually has less do to with brain stuff, and more as early preparation for eternal youth and immortality. It's mean to make her last longer. When she first meets Anne at age 10 - 11, her blood is a brown-ish color, but by the time things blow up when she's like 13-14, it's just a gross green. Her kidneys filter it out with time and her blood returns to its original red color, and Anne and Sasha see her real skin color for the first time, since before she always had this weird green tint, but they didn't know enough about humans to tell it wasn't normal. Seeing her blush red instead of green for the first time is kinda magical.

Migraines! Especially after a session. Especially when she does something the Core wouldn't like, because despite how hard they try to erase their traces, Marcy's most primal survival instincts remember.

More indirect effect but going several weeks a year without eating can't be good for her. It makes her feel very tired, dizzy and weak, even if she's eating normally, because three days ago she was starving.

The port in the back of her neck itches a lot. After becoming queen, she asked the royal physician that put it her to remove it, but he was scared of leaving her paralyzed, since it was so deeply fused with her nervous system. Sasha still thinks she should've had the guy publicly excecuted or something.

Idk if it counts but ?? Andrias wouldn't touch her if she was sick, so Olivia often found ways to give her a fever in secret or something to spare her. She did it to protect her, but it does mean Marcy spent a big deal of her childhood in bed, recovering from a session or a light illness.

The Core communicates with her nervous system through electric signals, and even thought they don't want to harm it, they still make her muscles contract a lot so she feels super sobre afterwards lots of muscle pain all the time.

There is no helmet in this one. No indirect connection. When Andrias puts the Core in Marcy, he goes all the way. Straight into her brain! They got a new PC :3

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

thin skinned (skinsuit'd staffbot reader x Sun/Moon angst, no comfort)

“Y- you don’t understand,” your voice wavered and stuttered with static, your voice box protesting so much use, “what it. Was like, for me.”

“What is there to POSSIBLY understand??” Sun’s voice came through this time, high and nearly shrill with indignation, revulsion, outrage. “What could possibly have happened to you to excuse this!”

You shut your eyes, feeling your shoulders rattle. You wanted to shout, or throw something. Was this anger? It was hot, and it hurt, and it made every part of you tense. Was this what it was to be angry? Or... was this another kind of fear? You abruptly turned around to face them properly, trying hard to look them in the eye. Your hands were in fists, you realized- both the one that was bare, your brittle, metallic skeleton grinding against itself slightly, and the one still wearing a glove. The metal of your stripped fingers cut into one another, making the joints ache.

“You-“ your voice broke, and you had to wait a spirit second before the voice would work again, “you can’t understand anything about how- how scared I was-s!”

You grabbed at the neck of the coat you were wearing, feeling suffocated by it. Your voice box warbled and strained, letting out a staticky cough.

“You didn’t have to be afraid of b-being dismantled. You were loved. A-A-And I? I was nothing.”

Unable to stand the look they were giving you any longer, you whipped around and left the room, escaping to the fire exit. You grabbed fistfuls of your hood and pulled it down over your face, feeling the fabric tear slightly. You sat heavily, leaning against the railing and listening to the rain pitter-patter against the old metal staircase. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself wishing you didn't feel anything. You hated this, this hot, scalding feeling that made your fingers curl, that made you want to- to hit them, and blame them, and shout that it was all their fault, all their fault, ALL THEIR FAULT,

You pressed the thoughts down, down, down, tried to stifle them as much as you were able. You pulled yourself up by the cold, wet railing. Your legs rattled with the movement- when did you get so... tired? You shuffled back into your apartment. You didn't look at them as you walked across the room to flip the light switch. It was dark near instantly; your eyes had to adjust. The night-light plugged in next to the workbench they were sat on glowed, warm and yellow. You turned your back to them, hesitated.

"I'm, Going. To charge for the night. I'll s-see you, in the morning."

There was a long pause, then you started your walk to the closet you had converted into a sort-of bedroom for yourself- it was where you kept your clothes, and your make-shift charging station was there, anyway. It was the last sliver of comfort you had in this place right now.

You had crossed the room and grabbed the doorknob when they spoke.

"Goodnight."

For a second you considered not answering, in letting them sit and fester in your cold, angry silence. But you were tired. You didn't want to keep this up. You felt your shoulders sag.

"G-g-good night."

"Sleep tight," said Sun's voice. It was tiny and kind of mumbly, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. You felt a chuckle wobble out of you.

"D-d-d-don't let th-the bed bugs-s bite."

[purble-gaymer]

the heat goes on, where the hand has been

and the heat goes on, and the heat goes on (x)

[occasionallycjshipping]

“[He’s going to kill you one day.]”

Heart’s wings snap shut, and he looks at Mind. “(You know he could never. Even if he wanted to. Even if for Harmonia.)”

“[Harmonia?]”

Heart smiles, not happily. “(Even if she didn’t exist. Maybe even if she somehow told him to.)”

“[You should care more about what he does.]” Mind smooths a hand over Heart’s face, brushing his curls away, avoiding his eyes. “[Every chance you give him, he hurts you with it.]”

“(And you aren’t the same?)”

“[I would never hurt you like that.]” Mind insists. It’s not the same. [Heart is his to hurt.]

“(Never?)”

“[Soul is different.]”

Heart fans his wings out. “(You say that.)”

“[Soul is different. He would never-]” touch Heart the way he does, he could never love Heart the way he could, he could never- “[It’s not the same.]”

“(How?)”

He’s playing into Heart’s hands and he knows that. He could never let Soul be something to Heart like he is.

Mind wraps possessive arms around Heart, pulling him in. He searches for any appropriate words to describe the difference.

“[Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh. You’re my Heart.]” Eventually he admits, “[I’m your Mind.]”

Heart continues, like it’s a song, one both of them have memorized without having heard it before. “(And I will be your end. And you will be mine.)” His wings hold him closer. “(And I am nothing without you. And you are nothing without me.)”

Heart cups his chin. “(Right?)” Heart asks, but both of them have known these things since they could know.

“[…Of course.]”

He stares at Heart. Heart drags a thumb over his lips.

“(Of course.)”

[ratwithhands]

shitposting with friends earlier, this is clipped from a larger comic about Sapioflore Emmet and honey.

For context, honey (despite being a relatively common product) is not something most Sapioflores are comfortable eating since most of them make nectar on their own. Even if the honey comes from non-sapient plants, most Sapioflores are weirded out by eating it since it reminds them of their own bodily fluid.

One of many exceptions is Emmet. He often (over)exerts himself, and to keep himself from getting too weak or hungry, he usually keeps a range of foods on hand as snacks to eat through the day. He likes honey since it's basically condensed sugar, plus he just like the flavour/texture. He buys jars in bulk and works through his supply over a few weeks/months, much to Ingo's dismay. Emmet has offered him honey on multiple occasions, but Ingo is generally uninterested so he doesn't bother. More for him after all :)

Other clips from that comic:

I don't think I will share the rest 👍have a good day