#I wondered what it would be like to draw people underground

[coline7373]

"Well? Recess is over and the students are waiting. Aren't you going to say goodbye, Mr. Kenobi?"

"Goodbye, Cody. I hope the students know how lucky they are to have you."

"About as lucky as they are to have you. Now, come on. Kiss me."

"As you wish."

I have been working on this very slowly from the start. It's actually finished? Wow 😆

It was, in my mind, related to the Teachers Obi-Wan & Mustache!Cody AU. Cody doesn't have a mustache there. Sorry 😔

I tried but it looked weird 😅 Oh, well...

Thank you for @codywanfirstkissbingo for offering a wide panel of choices, because some of those prompts are so complicated to do in my head, I was a bit intimidated.

Working myself up to it 👍

[mononijikayu]

fairy of shampoo — ryomen sukuna.

“No, I doubt that.” he murmured, his voice dropping further as his eyes trailed over you, taking in every detail of his creation on your body. “I didn’t outdo myself. You did. You made it come alive. Well, you always have.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the fabric near your shoulder, the touch light yet searing. “This was always meant for you. No one else could’ve worn it like this.” There was a beat of silence, heavy and charged, before he added, “Do you know how hard it was to sit out there and watch everyone look at you like that?” You raised a brow, your smile teasing now. “Jealous already, ‘kuna?”

GENRE: alternate universe - fashion world au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, love at first sight, co-workers to lovers, romance, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, p to v sex, backstage/greenroom sex, orgasm, humor, pet names (angel, sweetie, etc), devotion, possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, fashion designer! ryomen sukuna, super model! reader;

WORD COUNT: 5k words.

NOTE: i wrote the first part of this while on instagram live and continued to write, but then i forgot to do a live about this again and passed out from more cold medicine. the cold weather isn't really helping my case either. but im feeling much better now!!! though, i kept changing titles too, cause im indecisive. but of course txt saves the day with fairy of shampoo.

i adore this song a lot. also, if you are curious, this was something i was imagining for a while as an au to concubine reader and sukuna. like in another live, he would be a former underground fighter who fell for model reader. in any case, i hope you enjoy it. i love you all!!! see you on the 10th!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

HE DOESN’T THINK HE’S EVER SEEN SOMEONE LIKE YOU BEFORE. He felt his breath hitch, the steady rhythm in his chest faltering as if the very air had thickened, demanding more effort to draw in.

The crowd was roaring around him, but the noise seemed muted, far away, like a distant wave crashing on an unseen shore. All he could focus on was you, the commanding force you carried with every step.

It wasn’t just the way you moved — it was the raw, magnetic energy emanating from you. Each step struck the floor like a declaration, a drumbeat echoing through the cavern of his mind, drowning out every other thought.

He tried to remind himself to blink, to exhale, to ground himself in something other than the overwhelming pull of you, but it was no use. When it comes to you, there was no winning.

When you reached the center of the stage, you turned slowly, your gaze sweeping over the audience like a stormfront rolling in. Then, for the briefest moment, your eyes landed on his.

He felt like a man struck by lightning. The fire in your gaze seared through him, sharp and unyielding, leaving no room for the walls he’d so carefully built. He was laid bare, every defense stripped away, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t mind.

As quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and you turned your attention elsewhere, leaving him in the wreckage of his composure. His heart was racing, pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, and he could only wonder how someone could hold so much power without even trying.

Control? Composure? He realized now how fragile those concepts truly were.

Everything about you screamed majesty. It was obvious you knew what you were doing and it was obvious that you were doing it with so much passion, so much pride, so much expertise. If it was not clear now, it would be obvious to all now that it was you who ran this world. 

And you had no problem trying to show that to everyone. Everything about what you were doing could only exude wonder people cannot explain. Especially when you walked. Ryomen Sukuna knew this from the first time he saw you walk. 

He could somehow remember the first time he’s seen you walk on a runway. He wasn’t yet the person he was at this time. Ryomen Sukuna remembers that he was a rough man, a brutish man. Someone whose hands were at one point made for destruction more than they were for anything relating to creation. 

These hands were born for nothing good at all. These were born from nothing and then for violence. For most of his life, he was sure that they were made for nothing else but pouring blood on the concrete in rough fistful bouts than they were for wanting to understand the language of fabrics and colors. 

Sukuna was all too certain that he wasn’t someone who he himself thought was even worthy of being in your presence then. You wouldn’t have liked the man he was then.

If he didn’t, then you would certainly not like him too. But he liked to think that this was the moment his life changed. He could remember it so very clearly, that moment. 

He could recall it all, if you asked. Every little detail. His bloody hands fumbled with the remote control, the echo of his fingers pressing the buttons whiplashed as he tried to find something worth watching. Nothing was worth watching, nothing was worth looking forward to. One after another, the button pressed only to lead to disappointment. 

Then, he stopped. 

You were the first thing he saw. He blinked as he found himself staring at this moment. It was like you owned the runway. Your long silver stilettos click and clack across the steps,the fine texture of the shimmering silver dress blossomed like moonlight right in front of him. It was like an epiphany when he watched you come towards him through the screen. 

Your bright blossoming eyes narrowed sharply as you stopped at the center, posing masterfully for the audiences and then for the cameras. He could feel the hairs on his body stand up as he walked closer to the screen. Almost a second after, you had smiled at the crowd. 

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna had thought that this belonged to him. Your smile, your gaze, your pose. He had felt like you had been longing for him.  Calling for him to come and join you. Beckoning him closer by your side. Almost as though you were commanding him like the goddess of the moon you were in that moment. 

He wished that moment had lasted much longer. But as you finished your moment, it was your turn to walk away. Disappointment slowly seeped into him as he watched you go, the train of your metallic silver gown flowing behind you like moonshine withdrawing from the slithering darkness. 

You were so beautiful, so bright and gorgeous. For a moment, he didn’t even think you were real. He couldn’t believe that such a being like you could ever exist. He couldn’t believe that such a being like you could ever bless him with your wonders, even for just a moment. From that moment, he was awestruck. 

But it’s not like Ryomen Sukuna could not help himself in wanting you. You were life itself for him from that moment. And he couldn’t help but live in the world you made. He could not help but want to know you. To know more of your wonder. To be there in the room where it happened, watching you command the world with each and every step only you could make. 

One could call him insane for believing that this was the moment that changed his life. That you, who he had never known, would ever change his life. Yet, it was true. You had made him your most adoring servant.

And he had made you his master, his lifelong muse. He knew that he didn’t have any skills to dress you, his goddess, just yet. But if there was something Ryomen Sukuna knew, it was that everything can be learned. And you would guide him how.

He could recall how he stood up from his couch that night and washed his bloody hands on his sink. He cleaned every bit of it. By the time he finished, he found his hands clean enough. And with that he felt satisfied.

He dried his hands with the dry cloth, watching the bloody water drain down the sink. He knew that he had to have clean hands, for you. He can’t dress you if his hands are dirty with blood. He won’t soil you. No, he won’t soil his goddess. 

The click of the cameras brought him back to reality. You stopped at the center of the runway and posed. You look at the side dramatically, your jaw sharp against the glow of stage lights. You had fun as you brushed the loose hair back on your ear, trying to showcase the fine sapphire earrings encrusted with diamonds.  

People were in awe as you stood there, the leather covered fingers tracing your beautiful face as you showcased the fine red silky flow of the shimmering strapped dress bejeweled in fine rubies and sapphires and its majestic slit at the hem forcing your fine leg forward, the heel of your shoe just as magnificent with its intricate design. 

Everything about it was a perfect fit — as it should. Ryomen Sukuna could only think to himself about how proud he was that it looked good on you. Red was certainly made to be your color. The color he had so loved, the color he knew you had come to love just as much when you looked into his scarlet eyes too. 

Sukuna’s smirk deepened as he watched the crowd, their collective awe painting a smug satisfaction across his sharp features. They didn’t just see a veteran model on the catwalk; they saw his vision, his devotion, his muse brought to life. They saw life form before their eyes.

It wasn’t just about the clothing, no. It was about you, his precious muse. You carried his work like no one else could, not just wearing the piece but embodying it, giving it a presence that no other model could match. Every step you took whispered of elegance, screamed of confidence, and radiated the unshakable power he had designed into every stitch.

He leaned further back in his chair, one leg draped casually over the other, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against his arm. Sukuna’s mind flickered back to the nights spent creating the masterpiece you now wore. The hours he poured over sketches, fabrics, and details, all with you in mind. The fire in his chest when inspiration struck, always tied to the thought of you — your silhouette, your essence, your wonder.

It was a dangerous thing, he knew, to let himself feel this much for anyone. It was even more grievous when one thinks about how crazy he is, obsessed with you. But as he watched you claim the stage as though you owned it, as though you owned him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. If anyone deserved his best, it was you.

And now, seeing you carry with pride what he had envisioned, the culmination of his work, his smirk twisted into something softer, something almost reverent. His scarlet eyes could only glint with a mixture of pride and possessiveness.

Because this wasn’t just a fashion show, not to him. This was his world laid bare, his unspoken devotion stitched into fabric, and you, his muse, standing at the center of it all. And he could care less about anything else. This was what mattered. Nothing more will satisfy him than you.

Let them look. He thought, his scarlet gaze darkening further. Let them be captivated. 

But they should know this — the vision, the brilliance, the art? 

It was his. And so were you.

And you just as well knew it too.

He was yours too, after all.

The moment the show ended,  Ryomen Sukuna slipped through the mass of the crowd, his stride purposeful as he made his way backstage. The buzz of the event, the voices, and the clinking of glasses faded into white noise as he navigated through assistants, models, and photographers. 

They all parted instinctively for him — whether out of respect, fear, or both, he didn’t care. Why should he care at this moment? He had something else much more important in mind, after all. Nothing can compare to that, to you.

He found you standing alone, the chaos of the backstage swirling around but never touching you. You were a picture of composed beauty, your magnificent  features illuminated by the soft backstage lighting. The masterpiece you wore still clung to you, the fabric shimmering as though it held its own light.

You didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in adjusting one of the intricate details of the outfit, but the shift in the air told you he was there. You looked up, your tender gaze locking with his, and in that instant, the world seemed to narrow in this cage you had always made for just the two of you. Your lips perk up into a small sly smile.

Sukuna let the door swing shut behind him, the sound muffled by the hum of the outside world. The room felt smaller now, the space between you crackling with an intensity that mirrored the one you’d commanded onstage. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms casually, though the smirk on his lips betrayed the hunger in his gaze.

“Stunning, as always.” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “But then, you already know that.”

You tilted your head, meeting his smirk with a soft smile of your own. “The design does most of the work. You outdid yourself, Sukuna.”

His smirk deepened as he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you in a few slow steps. You shake your head at him, your smile getting bigger too. He was about to have another one of his antics, for certain.

“No, I doubt that.” he murmured, his voice dropping further as his eyes trailed over you, taking in every detail of his creation on your body. “I didn’t outdo myself. You did. You made it come alive. Well, you always have.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the fabric near your shoulder, the touch light yet searing. “This was always meant for you. No one else could’ve worn it like this.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy and charged, before he added, “Do you know how hard it was to sit out there and watch everyone look at you like that?”

You raised a brow, your smile teasing now. “Jealous already, ‘kuna?”

His chuckle was dark and low, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “Jealous? Maybe. But more than that…” His hand slid from the fabric to your jaw, tilting your beautiful face up to his. 

His scarlet eyes burned with something raw, something possessive. “I just wanted to remind you to come by and tell you, like I always do. All of this, the applause, the stares, the admiration... none of it matters. Because at the end of the day, you’re mine. No one else can have you but me.”

The air between you thickened, you could feel your pulse quickening as his blunt words hung in the space. His thumb brushed against your tender cheek, and soon enough, his face echoed a small smirk against his beautiful lips, one that you were certain was softer this time. But of course, you were just as certain that it wasn’t less intense.

“And don’t you dare forget it, hm?” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, before leaning in to close the distance between you.

“I will never forget.” You hummed back to him, just as sweetly. Just as venomous. “Just as you never forget that I am the only muse for you, hm?”

He laughs, the tone rich and eager as his eyes narrowed at you. “And when have I ever forgotten that, hm? Ten years of my life given to you so far, and you’ll have the rest of it too. You don’t have to worry about me leaving you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh aloud this time. “Hm, then you are my prisoner now.”

“I always have been….. I am always willing to be, sweetie.”

He grabbed your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and guided you through the bustling backstage chaos. You followed without question, the dress flowing into the brush of wind as you made your place elsewhere. You could feel your heart racing as he weaved through the narrow halls with singular focus, while still holding onto you, no matter what.

He didn’t stop until the two of you reached your green room. With a swift glance to ensure no one had followed, he shut the door behind you, the lock clicking into place with a finality that made your breath hitch. You looked at him and then he looked back at you, almost as though time had frozen between the two of you.

The room was quieter here, dimly lit and far removed from the noise of the show. The faint hum of the loud music leaked through the walls, but it only added to the charged atmosphere between you. Ryomen Sukuna took a breath before starting to get closer to you, his intense scarlet gaze pinning you to the spot. 

It was as though your throat had all but closed. You felt yourself standing there as he made his way to you and then stopped. The space between the two of you had all but evaporated into nothing. You pursed your lip into a line and then shook your head into a small smile.

His scarlet glint lingered, locking with your gaze, a mischievous gleam dancing within his eyes. Slowly, he lowered himself before you, hands deftly reaching for the ties that bound you to your heels. The heels he had designed just for you.

You knew you could do it yourself. But he refused to let you do it, even when he has to get to you later on, he would get some sort of way when he didn’t do it for you. For so long now, you have never been able to take your shoes off by yourself. He wouldn’t allow it.

After all, it was a ritual he insisted on. It was something he had done even when he was first designing clothes tailored just for you. And you had long stopped having any qualms about it.

Every time he did this for you, whether after the runaway or some time else, there was always this calm. It was always a quiet moment of devotion woven into the fabric of your bond each and every single time.

An angel like you shouldn’t have to stoop to something like this, sweetie. He had said back then, his lips curving into a playful smile as his attention remained on your feet. Only devils like me should kneel, taking on tasks as lowly as this.

Now, as his fingers worked to free you from the delicate binds, he couldn’t help but hum. You could feel his mumblings be rough and edged with something untamed and all at once, the warmest of spring days and tenderest of breaths. You obediently look upon him as he carefully removes them from your feet. 

“You’ve been driving me insane all night, sweetie.” He set your shoes aside, tucking them where they wouldn’t catch another soul’s attention. His scarlet eyes roved up to yours, filled with longing. “Everything you do, even now... You just woo me to no end.”

You shivered under his gaze, feeling the intensity of his words wrap around you like a warm, intoxicating haze. His hands, calloused yet deliberate, brushed against your ankles as he adjusted your footing, ensuring you could stand without strain. Even in such a simple gesture, his care for you felt all-consuming.

“You have always imprisoned me, you know that? But tonight…..you really have mastered it.” he snickers, his tone dipping lower, velvet and gravel in equal measure. 

“I have.” You muttered back at him, smiling at him as sweetly as you could. “Don’t you like it that way? Your muse gives you everything, artist of mine.”

“I did. I always do. I loved tonight most, I should say.” His lips curled into a smirk that sent a rush of heat through your chest. “Every glance, every move—it’s like you’ve cast some wicked spell. And here I am, completely at your mercy.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, his hands still lingering just a moment too long on your legs. The proximity was enough to make your heart race, yet he stopped short of closing the distance, his teasing nature keeping you on edge.

“And the worst part?” he added, his voice softening but losing none of its weight. “I don’t even mind. Your devil craves more—he begs, over and over, to be your fool willingly.”

He stood, fluid and graceful, the motion commanding yet intimate. Your eyes blossomed as you looked towards him, unable to move. You felt as though you were being consumed by him. You felt like you were consumed by his wonder, by his soul, by his everything. Like you always have been. Like you always want to be.

His fine lips hovered near yours, daring but unyielding, as though he relished the tension he had so masterfully wrought. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity, leaving you breathless, waiting, wanting—until finally, he whispered back to you. 

“Tell me, my angel... How long are you going to keep me like this?”

Before you could respond, his calloused hands were on you. One sliding around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck. His precious lips crashed against yours with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. It was a kiss that demanded everything from you, one that poured out all the frustration, admiration, and possessiveness he’d kept in check throughout the show.

You melted into him, your tender hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat and then his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His touch was everywhere, his hands tracing the curve of your waist, the line of your back, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance between you.

The kiss deepened, his lips parting yours as his tongue sought entry, exploring, claiming. You gasped against him, and he took the opportunity to tilt your head back, giving him better access as he pressed you against the cool wall, pinning you against it.

“You were perfect, sweetie. You truly are.” he muttered against your lips, his voice a gravelly whisper. “You have no idea how you burn me alive.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly, earning a low growl from him that sent heat pooling in your stomach. “I think I’m starting to get the whole of it, ‘Kuna.” you teased breathlessly, your words cut off as he captured your lips again. “But….I wouldn’t mind knowing more about it.”

The air around you was thick with the scent of him, a mix of that one of a kind expensive mint cologne and a little bit of cinammon, something he had become fond of because of you. Everything about it was unmistakably your Sukuna.

The world outside the green room ceased to exist — no crowd, no cameras, no responsibilities to the world. It was just the two of you, tangled together, consumed by the fire you’d stoked in each other. Consumed by the very word that both of you couldn’t fathom saying to the other. 

When he finally pulled back, the string of your connection bellowed you in parting. You looked at him intently as you gathered yourself. Both of you were breathless, wanton in your desire. You found your lips swollen and your heart pounding to no end. 

Soon enough, he drew you closer and let his forehead rested against yours intently, his hands still firmly on your waist, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish.

“You’re so ardently beautiful, angel of mine.” he said again, his voice a husky promise. “Always. My only muse.”

“And you’re just as cunningly sweet, devil.” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. “You’re the only one who can be my artist.”

“You’re quite possessive tonight, aren’t you?”

You hummed back to him. “Don’t you already know that I am vile when it comes to you and smiling at other women?”

His smirk returned at your words. You rolled your eyes at his smirk, but your own eyes were too playful to suggest anything else. Your lover’s smirk turned softer soon, as your hands rested around his neck. But it was obvious that it was  just as dangerous. Soon enough, he leaned in to kiss you again, passionately slower this time, as if savoring the moment.

The green room felt impossibly small, the charged energy between you crackling like a live wire. Sukuna’s hands roamed your body with a confidence that left you breathless, his touch igniting a fire in your veins. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, leaving a heated path in their wake.

Your back pressed against the cool wall, a small breath releasing from your lips. You could feel the difference when you pressed against his body, though. Now more so when he had all but taken everything off, naked as the day he was born. It was truly a stark contrast to the endless heat and pleasure just radiating from his body and onto yours. 

He held you firmly, his strong calloused hands gripping your voluptuous hips closer as though grounding himself in you. His hot breath was heavy against your skin, his sharp teeth grazing the sensitive spots on your skin that made you shiver and arch into him.

"’kuna, you….." you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and need.

He chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your neck. "Say it louder for me." he demanded, his voice dripping with authority and raw desire. “I love hearing from you.”

You barely had time to respond before his hand slid lower onto your body,  finding the silky fabric in his way. His brow raised for a moment. He had put himself in a conundrum, at times. He likes dressing you in everything he thinks of and creates. And yet, he just as much loves to see it off your body. 

With a swift, deliberate motion, he tugged at the silky material, his eager movements ever so impatient yet precise. When your lover found your bare skin, you couldn’t help but gasp, throwing your head to the side slightly, clutching onto his shoulders for support.

It didn’t take long before your lover found himself pressing himself closer, the thick heat of his touch teasing at the warmth of your entrance. He paused, his warm scarlet eyes locking with your own, searching for permission in your gaze. Even when he leads, he knows an angel will always be the one on top, not him, not the devil.

You nodded, your bruised lips parting as you whispered back at him. "Please. Please, my devil."

From there, you could only find that the tension had all but snapped. He pushed into you with a slow, deliberate force that had you throwing your head back against the wall. A loud pleasured cry escaped your eager lips as his throbbing tip pressed against your walls with such a mean, unrelenting precision. 

You could only ever feel so full with the way he was easily stretching you in a way that was both overwhelming and intoxicating. He always knew too well how your body would react to him, wantonly eager to capture him in this desire. Just as much as it was willing to follow him, like he was its very own pied piper. 

His rough and yet gentle hands gripped your hips tighter against him, steadying you as he slid into you deeper, filling everything inside to the brim. Your lover’s breath could only feel ragged, his jaw clenched and tightened as he fought for control, his sweating forehead resting against your own, now too drenched in desire.

"You take me so perfectly, don’t you?" he growled, his voice low and filled with unrestrained hunger. “Too good.”

Your fingers found their way to the small of his back, nails painted crimson now stained deeper as they dragged across his skin, leaving raw, bleeding trails in their wake. You clung to him desperately, adjusting to the fullness of him, each deliberate motion sending shockwaves through your body. 

The initial sting of his girth soon melted into a searing pleasure, a molten heat pooling deep within you as he buried himself further, again and again. Each thrust forward in this pandemonium of pleasure was deliberate, unyielding, designed to elicit the loudest, most unrestrained cries from your lips. 

Even against the sound of music outside these walls, your pleasure was even louder. Not that Sukuna minded. If anything, that had just made him more eager for more. The air in the green room grew dense and feverish, charged with the mingling of your ragged breaths, the rhythmic slap of skin meeting skin, and the guttural curses that spilled freely from Sukuna’s lips.

He shifted slightly, tilting your hips with a nearly brutal precision, each movement driving him deeper and deeper into you. It was raw, primal—his intensity teetering on the edge of brutish animalism. The cool wall at your back pressed harder against you as he pushed closer, his heat overwhelming, searing into your already burning skin.

From then on, your lover found himself thrusting against you in a new angle. Almost instantly, you found yourself unraveled entirely, tearing cries of unrestrained ecstasy from your lips over and over again, layered in different pitches one after another. Your body arched instinctively, meeting him halfway, desperate for more as he kept you teetering on the precipice of bliss. 

Again and again, your lover gleefully pushed you closer to that feverish edge, his swift movements unrelenting, even as his own breaths grew rough and uneven, the sound of his hunger matching the rhythm of your shared passion. You could feel your slick sliding down your crevices, as much as drool was falling from your lips.

“You feel that?” he growled, his voice low and ragged, thick with possession. His lips found the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin before biting down lightly, claiming you in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

You groan against him. “You take me so perfectly… even now, in this dress I made just for you. Look at how it clings to you, ruined. It’s just like I wanted.”

The shining silk fabric of the dress bunched at your hips, a masterpiece he had poured his craft into, now crumpled and wrinkled between your sweating, mangled bodies. It was too intoxicating, the way that the waves of wrinkles formed on the fabric as you moved against him just as intensely. It was such an art. It was an art that only belonged to you and him. No one else can ever see such marvels like this. 

The bright satin straps had all but slipped from your shoulders, exposing more of your gleamingly red and marred skin to his roaming calloused hands and greedy scarlet eyes. His long fingers gripped the delicate material, rough and unapologetic, as though the dress itself was just another part of you to dominate.

Your response was but a strangled moan as his brutishly eager hips snapped forward, the force of him driving you harder against the wall. The burn of skin against skin, the body against the cool wall — it has overtaken you whole in many fits of groans in pitiful harmonies of pleasure.

The cool surface contrasted with the molten heat coursing through your body, heightening every sensation. Your nails could only continue to claw at his shoulders, leaving streaks upon streaks of your touch across his skin, marring him,  as you fought to keep yourself grounded. He could only smirk at that.

“Look at you now.” he murmured darkly, his scarlet gaze piercing into yours. “Still wearing this dress like a goddess, and yet, you’re falling apart for me. Do you have any idea how maddening you are? How irresistible?” 

His hand slid between your bodies, teasingly brushing over the intricate folds of the fabric as his fingers found the heat pooling between your thighs. “Tell me, angel… do you want me to ruin this dress too? To ruin you completely, so no one else can ever have you?”

“Yes, my devil.Yes.” you gasped, your voice shaky but unyielding, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer. “Only you.”

His chuckle was dark, wicked, and utterly consuming, the sound of a man reveling in his victory. “Just how I love it, then.” he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and teasing. “Because I’ve made you mine in every way that matters.”

His pace quickened, the power of his thrusts leaving you breathless, and yet, the dress still clung to your frame, a tattered proof to his desire and your surrender. Every stitch, every detail he had meticulously crafted was now a witness to the unrelenting passion that coursed between you, its perfection crumbling just as you were under his touch.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, even as it trembled with raw hunger. “My perfect angel. My creation. Mine.”

The dress clung to you, its delicate fabric now rumpled and damp with sweat, a stark contrast to the pristine masterpiece it had been when he first slipped it into your body hours earlier. His hands roamed freely now, rough fingertips tracing the paths of the seams he had stitched with care. 

Each touch of his ignited sparks across your glowing skin, a searing reminder that every detail of the garment was crafted with you burning the thoughts he had mind—and now, every thread bore witness to how completely he had unraveled you bear to him.

“Do you feel how perfect this is?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped to a rasp. His hips surged forward again, drawing a gasp from your lips that echoed in the small room. 

“Every part of this, of you, was meant to drive me insane. The heavens planned for that, don’t you think? An angel to save the devil from sin.” He lets out a small choked chuckle, feeling sweat permeate from his neck. 

His words were almost worshipful, though they carried the dark edge of his hunger. One hand slid down, gripping your thigh through the bouncing fabric, pulling you impossibly closer as he pressed harder against you. His other hand tugged at the hem of your dress, teasingly smoothing it back down only to push it higher again.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he continued, his scarlet eyes locked onto yours, holding you captive as easily as his body did. “How beautiful you look like this—wrapped in something I made, only to have me ruin it.” 

His lips curled into a smirk, wicked and proud, before he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. The kiss was all-consuming, his teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue invading with the same urgency as his movements against you. When he pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Say it again. I wanna hear it again.” he demanded, his voice thick with need. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You could barely form the words, but they tumbled from your lips without hesitation. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

His eyes darkened further, a victorious glint sparking within them. “That’s right.” he growled, his pace quickening, his grip on you tightening as he drove you higher and higher. “You’ll always be mine, angel. No one else will ever have you like this. No one else will ever love you like I do.”

The intensity of his words sent you over the edge, your beautiful cries mingling with his animalistic groans as he followed you into an oblivion together. The air around you was heavy, thick with the scent of desire and the echoes of your shared release.

For a moment, neither of you moved from the bliss of the high. The only sound that mattered to the two of you was the ragged cadence of your breaths. His hands, once rough and relentless, now moved with never ending tenderness, smoothing the crumpled fabric of your silk dress as if trying to restore its dignity. 

As if trying to hide the ruin and depravity that he feels only belongs to you and him. No one else can see it, no one else can know about his depravity. Only you, only you were the spectacle of any wrinkle in his composure. Your lover smiles at you. His lips brushed your forehead, a soft contrast to the ferocity of moments before.

“You’re perfect, as always.” he whispered, his voice low but steady, carrying a rare, vulnerable warmth. “In every way.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “So are you.”

[mintmatcha]

So it's established that both of little guy's dads are pro-heroes in their own capacity. Jr probably thinks the world of his dad; all flashy lifestyles, on the news, bragging rights but he never hears anything about Shinsou (underground, makes sense). Probably told Shinsou's some guy that only patrols and nothing more, not even a sidekick.

Though, now I gotta wonder how he'd handle it if Shinsou got seriously injured. I know you mentioned the meet ugly with the car, but imagine him being stabbed someplace vital or whatever and it gets caught on the news. Jr probably doesn't recognize him all dirty and covered in blood...until he does. What would that do? Would he still be like 'that's what he gets' with the shoulder devil or would he actually be scared/worried?

we are so on the same wavelength it's crazy

I think it really scares him to realize that people heroes are vulnerable.

shinso is awake, but on pain meds, and he only drearily asks if you and your son are okay (neither one of you were even hurt)

son has to grab something from ahinso's makeshift office and he sees his family drawing that he made in kindergarten, yellowed at the corners, handing above shinso's desk

[zarla-s]

Something I've been wondering - if I recall correctly, the brothers were aging Gaster before his fall, since a boss monster having children mean they give up their immortality.

In any of the Mercyplates, how'd he react to noticing he's aging? How'd he deal with it, no longer being immortal? How would the brothers deal with it? (And potentially even Asgore & Toriel if you're up for answering that too)

I've had this little exchange in my scripts file for ages and I never found a place to put it and also the more I thought about it the less sense it made BUT HERE IT IS ANYWAY (Gaster isn't signing on purpose)

Anyway, after he accepted that the things he'd made were actually monsters, he pretty quickly realized that he'd age as they grew, but considering he'd given up on everything except breaking the barrier at that point, he didn't really care. After getting to the surface, he still thinks about it without much emotion. On some level he'll always feel like being free isn't real and he'll wake up underground again at any moment. Dying of old age is just sort of an aspect of that.

Realizing he'll die before the goatparents is upsetting, but knowing that they're happy on the surface helps with that. He'd rather die before them than outlive them. On the whole he's very "guess i'll die ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" about it all. Dying before the brothers also doesn't bother him too much since he's sure they'll be better off without him anyway. All the signs of aging like sore joints and slowness and tremors and bad memory etc are very annoying to him though lol.

Papyrus handles it VERY badly and freaks out at any hints of him aging, and man when Gaster dies, hoo boy. Sans is pretty conflicted about it. Alphys is devastated. Asgore and Toriel are sad, but they don't really know him like they did before, so it's not as intense as it would be otherwise. They're used to outliving people. They're much more upset in Mercyplates scenarios though. :< They're familiar with the prospect of death when having children, even though they don't know WHY Gaster chose this since they don't know what he was actually trying to do. They try to empathize with him about how hard it is to face death after immortality while he just doesn't really care which confuses them, haha. Also worries them a little...

Even with both of them drawing on his SOUL's magic, I imagine that Gaster will live long enough to be around for a while even in Mercyplates scenarios. Long enough for the human to show up and do their thing at least, and for a while on the surface as well. He's got some life in him still. And who knows, maybe being reconstituted from the void did something to him that froze his aging again! Have to ask yourself which scenario appeals most to you, hehe.

[index] [patreon]

[milolunde]

Triplets Born

Like most things, I started rewatching Sonic Underground for fun and nostalgia and ended up making a version of it for myself in my head. However, UNLIKE most things, I felt I needed to draw it immediately instead of keeping it in my head.

Welcome to the stage Sonic Subternion

There was a time when Robotroplis was beautiful, full of life and peace, a time when it was known as Mobotroplis. Mobians were free to take part in the glory the queendom had to offer. They were free to take charge of their future, build a home, explore the world. But, just after my children were born the evil Doctor Robotnik used his technology to turn our world into a place of terror. Capturing the great realm of Mobotroplis, Doctor Robotnik and his machines turned our paradise into a prison of concrete and metal. 

As the source of Robotnik’s wealth, the aristocrats were left to play their tea parties and lavish masquerades, dooming my people to mechanical graves of servitude. Refusing to bend to Robotnik’s terror, he stripped me of my right as Queen, placing a bounty on my head… and the heads of my infant babies. Imprisoned in my own home, unable to aid my beloved queendom, I was left with a choice: Submit and forfeit Mobotroplis, or forfeit the life of my family. When all hope was lost, the Oracle of Delphius revealed to me a prophecy…

You must give up your children, separate, hide them from the evil that seeks their demise. Someday, you will reunite and overthrow Robotnik as the Lost Council of Four. But you must not act too soon. Cement your place in this destiny, for revealing yourself too soon will plunge your world into catastrophe. 

To give up my babies, to leave my queendom to the hands of Robotnik, then stand idle for years while the prophecy became realized. The Oracle laid before me a destiny where my worst fears were set in stone. Without a choice, I took my babies, smuggled myself and them out of the prison that was meant to be our palace home, and left them on the doorsteps to their true destinies… then fled.

Sonia “Sophia” Windermere

On the steps of House Windermere, Queen Aleena hesitated. The Windermere family had been sponsoring Robotnik since he first began the siege of Mobotropolis. Was leaving her darling daughter in the palm that fed Robotnik truly what destiny demanded? Looking at the lush garden within the tall fence, Aleena stepped through the dead grass to the gate entrance and left her daughter, her beautiful Sophia, cradled in her crib, and ran, imagining herself running with her children through the lush court grass to the grand fountain at the center.

Sonic “Oliver” Oakcrest-Hedgehog

Stepping carefully through the poison oak and already-dead pine saplings, Queen Aleena carried her baby boy through the woods strapped to her chest, arms curled around him in protection from the low branches. Upon hearing the rush of a waterfall, she took a breath and looked down at her baby. Wryly, she smiled at Oliver, who stared up at the sunset sky through the dead tree branches in awe. Untying the woven cradle from her back, she placed the sky-blue hoglet in the blankets, swaddled him tight, and gave him a final kiss before knocking on the cabin door and running back into the trees, arms shielding her face from the pine and twigs in her way. As she ran, she listened as the waterfall hushed and wondered what it would have been like to teach Oliver to swim.

Manic “Maurice” Roach

Fearfully creeping through the ruin of her queendom, the new city of Robotropolis, Queen Aleena held on tight to the handle of her basket. Draped in a cloth, she hoped to disguise the cradle as an ordinary basket for carrying groceries. However, the ornate design of the cradle could not be completely covered, and the shape undoubtedly gave away that it was anything but an ordinary basket. Hoping the shadows and late hour, fifteen minutes before curfew, would keep her hidden, she tread towards her destination. It was a humble home, its front door blocked off and relocated to the narrow passage between the home and its neighbor. She loomed in the alley, hesitating for a moment as the green light flickered above her. Her realm did not have shadows before, but there she stood, skulking through her own queendom. Blinking, she set the cradle down and uncovered it, heart swimming when she laid eyes on Maurice. She brushed his quills, kissed him twice, then soothed her hand across his body, watching as he drifted to sleep with his medallion in his mouth. Finally standing, she covered the basket, rang the bell, and fled to hide for the night before curfew officially arrived. She ran with her eyes forward, knowing if she looked back she would gather her son into her arms in an instant. Tears stung her eyes and she wondered if fulfilling a cruel destiny felt much like being watched: Fingers numb and quills on end as it peered through the back of her throat.

=================

That's it as far as origins go... Sonic does still end up with Chuck a few years after living with the Oakcrest family, and Manic is still super kidnapped after Aleena leaves, but I thought that would lend better to another post. That is, if I have the motivation to make another post lol. I really enjoyed making this one. It's refreshing to get my ideas out somehow rather than just letting them stir in my head until I forget about it. WELL please let me know, of you read this far, if you liked it! I plan to do more with this "rewrite" or "AU" or whatever it is. Not sure what form it will take, but I already have how they all meet typed out somewhere and I look forward to sharing it!

[brainworms-all-night-long]

If you were to make Mangey and Sails into Sanses who would they be

Ok so, originally, I was going for something fancier, cuz my extremely vague memory of either Oceantale or Piratetale said sans and papyrus have absolutely banger designs, but then I stumbled upon this thing when searching for it and well.

What can I say, he looks pretty chill!! And Sails' overall vibe fits it, I thinks (I mean come on. Undersail. UnderSAILS isn't that just perfect. That's literally perfect.) Didn't draw his mechanical hand cuz I just didn't want to tbh

Mangey though, he very much Is covered ear to tails with blood that's mostly not his!! That is to say blood, gore and cannibalism tw (talk abt a tonal whiplash lmao)

So, Horrortale by @/sour-apple-studios. A post neutral timeline in Undertale leaves the underground without its king and so the head of the royal guards takes the crown in hopes of giving some lost order to the people, but uh ohs!! (I belive) the Core malfunctions (or blows up I dedass just forgor) and the monsters are left without energy or means to create food.

Which means they either have to starve or... eat each other, in order to survive.

-

Oooor thats the most bare bones (hah) of it that I can rember without rereading some parts, it has been a few years since my UT autism...

So yea, Mangey is Horror!Sans (sort of)

I was meaning to do that silly little sails thing first as a warmup and than create Mangey cuz I had a vague idea of what kinda creature I want him to be, but when does art do what you tell it to. mf sprung to life and now he looks like, that.

Some tiny design notes, for which I kept the lineart around, since I feel like the color washed out some finer details.

He is indeed skin and bone and a lot, and I mean a lot of fluff to hide that, cuz I though it would be a cul contrast. And he's not wearing and eyepatch, it's just that he also got a few slashes with a spear to the face(for different reasons that Horror did.) As such he's missing both his right eye and left ear, his food can get a little... feisty. The axe is something he made himself as retaliation and yes, it has a serated edge on both sides. And bandages cuz I didn't feel like drawing his gloves lmao

Also!! Like any normal person, I did wonder just how bad would it get, if it could get that bad in the jungle, who would be the one to survive the longest if seemingly the only option for the scavengers was to cannibalize each other. My heart says Mangey because he very much Is a crafty little fox willing to bite and scratch for a single berry.

Although I don't really have a clear answer. First and foremost I think they'd most likely have a last ditch effort to kill Thorn or something before fully turning on each other. If so, then each has their own advantage of either flight, agility or strenght so its really up in the air to who would be the most likely to survive. Buuut Mangey could be smart about it and just snatch them while they're asleep, alas I don't think he really would. He's still baby and would think good fifty times before hurting anybody for real, much less kill and well, eat them. Those were his friends, his family. Prim is tbh more likely to throw her colleagues in the meat grinder I think. So if Mangey was, say, pushed to self defense than perhaps...

Either way he IS going to die from a blood infection if he doesn't clean up that eye soon though!! Yeowch...

I shall cease my yapping now, its 3Am, guten nacht

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Through The Poral: Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: A mystery girl comes through the portal with Ford. Little did anyone know she has a bigger connection to the brothers than anyone thought.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, age gap, flash backs, mentions of hopelessness, age gap (reader looks 21)

Pairing(s): Stan x platonic!reader, Ford x platonic!reader

A/N: Retelling of a Tale of Two Stans. The events and ideas are based on a theory I have about the Nightmare Realm. This is in no way canonically true, just my theories based on what we canonically know about the Nightmare Realm. 

40 long years of waiting. Waiting and wondering whether the time would come if I would ever be able to go home again. 40 years of hiding in plain sight from the one they call Bill Cipher, a dream demon who reigns over the nightmare realm, the place I have resided in for 40 years. Unaged and unchanged physically, but mentally I feel like I’ve lived for centuries.

When I first arrived in the nightmare realm, I had found refuge with a group of asteroid miners. I wasn't sure how much time had truly passed when an unknown man joined us, Stanford Pines. He told us stories of how he managed to get there as escapes Bill's grasp.

That was a long time ago. It seemed longer than what it actually was. Stanford had gone off and managed to hop between dimensions, and here we're I standing at the ready to take down Bill for good, his quantum destabilizer complete and in hand. 

“We have one shot at this.” Stanford whispered to me. 

I nodded in agreement, but as we went to strike, a rift opened up in front of us. Stanford, knowing the stakes of this mission knew that either we walked through, or Bill would and wreak havoc upon our home dimension, so with a heavy heart we walked through entering back into our home dimension. 

It felt surreal. After being gone for so long, I was finally back home. Yet, where I stood was not familiar to me. I recognised nothing. A dark space that was placed, I assumed, underground. I could hear the whirring of the machine as it fizzled and died. Home, a place I'd long forgotten, yet this place felt nothing like that. I felt like I was an imposter entering a realm I did not belong in.

Stanford and I stood silent. Taking in our surroundings. Unmoved by anything the people standing in the room were saying or doing. That was, till a man in a fez spoke up amongst the group. 

“Finally, after all these years long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!” The man opened his arms, a goofy grin spread across his face.

Then Stanford punched him square in the face before speaking, “this was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal. Didn't you read my warnings!?”

Never had I seen Stanford so angry. Usually he was calm and collected. Even still, he may have lashed out, but he wasn't yelling, he was calmly speaking down to this man that claimed to be his brother.

“Wranings, schmarnings. How's about maybe a thanks for saving you from what appears to be some sci-fi sideburn dimension.”

“Thank you? You think I'm going to thank you after what you did 30 years ago!?” Stanford raised his voice for the first time since I met him. He always was soft spoken, and kind. Never have I heard someone draw such anger out of him. Not even Bill himself.

Something didn't seem right. The physical confrontation, the yelling. It all screamed something more beyond the surface of what I knew.

Stanford had pinned his brother to the ground after dodging his punches. That's when I noticed the three of us weren't alone. There were three others that joined us in the dark, dingy underground. 

“Hey, hi, Mabel here. Quick question, what the heck is going on here?” A girl in a pink hand knitted sweater spoke up. 

“Stan, you didn't tell me there were children down here. And some sort of large, hairless gopher.” Stanford quickly gained his composure as he looked between the three people we didn't even notice. The larger man chuckled at Stanford's comment, seeking unphased. I took quick note of this.

“They're your family poindexter. Shermie's grandkids.” Stanford's brother, or Stan as he supposedly goes by, gestured to the two young kids, I'm guessing, were twins.

“I-I have a niece, a nephew?” Stanford's voice turned to one of fondness before he knelt down in front of the girl, Mabel, reaching out to shake her hand, “greetings. Do kids still say greetings? I haven't been in this dimension for a really long time.”

“Woah, a six fingered hand shake, that's one finger friendlier than usual.” Mabel beamed.

Mabel's twin brother, who had been absolutely silent up until now, finally spoke up, “I-I can believe it. You're the author of the journals.” The boy then began to hyperventilate and almost threw up.

This whole thing felt like a lucid dream. I let Stanford get used to the new information he had received. I, on the other hand, had nothing to take in. I again, was lost in the world of unknowns. Maybe I no longer had a home to look for anymore.

“There'll be time for introductions later. But first, tell me Stan, are there any security breaches? Does anyone else know about this portal?”

“No. Just us. Also, maybe the entire US Government.”

“The what!?” Stanford's face was fuming. I never saw him so angry.

They all looked through the window where the security footage showed the government outside searching for Stanford’s brother and the two young kids. Everything was so chaotic right now, which I hoped wouldn’t be the case when we entered our home dimension. I guess chaos followed us wherever we went.

“Okay, it’s alright. We’ve got a while before they find this room. We just need to lay low and think of a plan.” Stanford stated, the calmness returned to his voice as he pulled out the journal he had picked up off the floor, and began to write in it.

“It looks like we’re going to be stuck down here for a while. Who wants to tell us their entire mysterious back story, and also, who is she?” Mabel stated, finally pointing in my direction.

“This is Y/n. She is a friend I met on my travels. Yes, though, I have some questions about all of this myself, Stanley.” Stanford finally introduced me.

Stanley? I had not heard a name like that in 40 years…a name so familiar to me yet so foreign all at the same time. An old friend from home. A friend I left behind all those years ago. There was no way this was the same Stanley. Right?”

“Stanley?” Mabel’s brother asked.

“But your name is Stanford.” Mabel pointed out.

Stanford’s face and mine said it all. What the hell was happening here? What had happened in the time Stanford was gone? Why had his brother assumed his identity? I hoped we both got the answers we needed.

“Wait, you took my name? What have you been doing all these years you knucklehead?” Stanford turned angry again.

Whatever happened between Stanford and his brother, it still hit a nerve with him. Something about Stanley made Stanford’s normal demeanor turn angry. A side I never thought he had. He was cunning for sure, but downright hateful was not on the list of traits I had listed for Stanford.

“”Okay, okay, okay. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. It all started a lifetime ago…” Stanley began telling his version of his life growing up with Stanford to everyone.

As he spoke, things started to piece together slowly in my mind. There was a reason Stanford and I were brought together. The more they spoke the more I connected my life to the eldest Pines twins. I reached into my pocket, there I kept a picture of my dear friend that I left behind. The one person I wanted to get back to the most. Stanley Pine.

“The old me was dead, and I faked a car crash to prove it. By day, I was Stanford Pines, mr. Mystery. But by night, I was down in the basement trying to bring the real Stanford back. I couldn’t risk anyone learning the truth and sabotaging my mission. So, I lied to everyone. The town, my family, your parents. Even you, kids.” Stanley finished his story.

Everyone was so enthralled in the story that the brothers were telling, we all forgot about the government agents upstairs. Dipper, I learned was the name of Mabel’s brother, had a device in his bag that could erase people’s memories. Stanford hooked it up and changed the frequency to sync to radio headsets.

We all plugged our ears as Stanford set the device off. Soon enough the agents were dazed and confused about where they were and what was going on. Stanford greeted them and sent them away, pretending to be a government official.

“Nice work Stanford.” I smiled as I walked up to him.

He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder, “thank you, Y/n. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been better. It’ll take some time to adjust, but I feel like I know you better than I did before, and your brother as well.”

“It’ll take us both some time to adjust, but I promise, as soon as we get settled in, and things quiet down, I’ll get you back home where you belong.”

I shake my head, “no. You and I are a team. I’m not leaving your side. Plus,” I pull out the picture of Stanley, “I think my home is here now.”

Stanford took the picture from me, “i-is this?”

I nod, “I didn’t recognize him at first. He’s older now, and with that fez, I couldn’t see his hair, I always said that was his most defining feature.” I laughed softly.

Stanford smiled softly, “I think you should get some rest. You and Stan can discuss this in the morning. I know of a room you can stay in, if it’s still there that is.”

I nod as Stanford leads me inside and to the room that he said used to be his. It consisted of just a couch and wasn’t much, but it was a place to rest my head at night, and probably more comfortable than a cold gravel ground.

I was settling in as I heard the brothers talking. Stanford said that at the end of the summer he was to give him his house back, his name back, and the Mystery Shack business was over with. I could hear the pain in Stan’s voice, and I felt sorry for him, but after what he told us today, I didn’t blame Stanford for being the way he was. Stan hurt him badly, and I didn’t blame Stanford for holding it against his brother

I was finally settled in when Stan knocked on the door. I sat up and invited him in. He had a few more blankets in his hand that he was ready to offer up.

“Y-you settling in okay?” He asked softly.

I nodded and smiled, “as good as one can. It’s been so long since I laid on anything other than the ground in years.”

“Ford tells me you’re originally from this dimension too?”

I nod, “yeah, I’ve been away for I think 40 years…the world definitely seems different now than it did in the 70s.”

“Th-the 70s?”

“Yeah, I know, kind of a while to be away from home. No trace left of me. Nothing left except my failed experiment.”

“Y-you didn’t happen to grow up in New Jersey too, did you?”

“I actually did…” I hesitate whether I should tell him I’m exactly who he thinks I am, but I also didn’t want to assume that’s where he was going, and overwhelm his mind.

Stan just nods and goes to leave. Before he does, he says one final thing, “how is it you haven’t aged a single day, toots?” With that he walked away, closing the door behind him.

[zedleaked]

[APPARENTLY PEOPLE HERE WANTED TO KNOW THE HUMAN AXIS LORE SO IM JUST GOING TO COPY MY TWITTER POST HERE…] BASIC GIST IS THAT THIS IS JUST A GENERAL HUMAN AU. MONSTERS AND HUMANS SWAPPED. WOWIE!

ANYWAYS READ MORE FOR AXIS

AXIS ORIGIN IS STILL A BIT FUZZY. HERE HE'S LIKE CHUJIN'S ADOPTED SON [GENDER NEUTRAL],, CATGIRLTRICKSTER ON TWITTER SUGGESTED CHUJIN JUST FINDING YOUNG AXIS IN A PIPE OR SOMETHING AND I THINK THATS REALLY FUNNY... THOUGH HIS ORIGINS WOULD BE VAGUE. IF ASKED HE'D SAY HE DOESN'T REMEMBER.

ALSO NOTE BEFORE I FORGET. AXIS WAS JUST BORN WITH ONE LEG. THERE IS NO LORE REASON TO WHY ITS MISSING, IT IS JUST THE WAY HE IS. CHUJIN MAKES HIM A ROBOTIC LEG SO HE CAN HAVE AN EASIER TIME.

SURE I COULD GIVE A FUCKED REASON AS TO WHY HE DOESNT HAVE IT BUT I DONT FEEL LIKE IT.

AXIS WOULD BE AN APPRENTICE UNDER CHUJIN SIMILAR TO MARTLET [I NEEDA DRAW MARTLET EVENTUALLY] PLUS IN GAME THERE'S FLAVOR TEXT ABOUT HIM FLIPPING THROUGH THE ROYAL GUARD HANDBOOK IN HIS MIND. HONESTLY. MARTLET AND AXIS BEING FRIENDS THROUGH SHARING THE SAME INTEREST IS SILLY...

HE'D WANT TO TRAIN HIMSELF TO BECOME A ROYAL GUARD OR AT LEAST A PROTECTOR TO PAYBACK CHUJIN FOR TAKING HIM IN. HE'S GOING TO PROTECT HIS FATHER AND HUMANKIND. IT'S HIS BIGGEST GOAL IN LIFE.

STEAMWORKS STILL EXISTS. ITS JUST CHUJIN HADNT BUILT THE AXIS MODELS IN THIS AU BECAUSE. YOU KNOW.

MAYBE HE SAW POTENTIAL IN HUMAN AXIS, SEEING HOW DETERMINED HE IS TO GROW STRONGER AND PROTECT PEOPLE. CHUJIN WOULD WANT HIM TO HONE HIS SKILLS TO BECOME SOMETHING... BIG.

IN A WAY. AXIS WAS A PEEK INTO WHAT HUMANS COULD BECOME AND WHAT THAT COULD DO FOR HUMAN SOCIETY UNDERGROUND.

MEANWHILE AXIS IS ENAMORED BY STEAMWORKS AND JUST CHUJIN'S WORK IN GENERAL. HE REALLY ADMIRES ROBOTS, HE THINKS ABOUT WHAT ITS LIKE IF HE HAD ROBOTIC MODIFICATIONS.

AND LESS LORE RELEVANT BUT HE ALSO HAS CONNECTIONS TO KANAKO TOO! THEY ARE THE SIBLINGS EVER. THOUGH IVE BEEN WONDERING HOW CEROBA NOT KNOWING AXIS IN STEAMWORKS WOULD WORK. IT'D BE KINDA WEIRD FOR CHUJIN TO KEEP A WHOLE ASS CHILD SECRET FROM HER.

THEYVE PROBABLY SEEN EACH OTHER AND NEVER HAD MUCH SIGNIFICANT

INTERACTIONS FOR THEM TO FULLY REMEMBER EACH OTHER. AXIS SPENDS A MAJORITY OF HIS TIME AT STEAMWORKS OR DOING ROYAL GUARD SHIT, AND WHEN HES NOT DOING THAT HES PROBABLY PLAYING WITH KANAKO [WHEN CEROBA ISNT AROUND]

AND WELL. WE HAD TO GET TO THIS PART EVENTUALLY. ONE DAY A MONSTER MAKES ITS WAY INTO THE UNDERGROUND AND STARTED KILLING PEOPLE. DALV [WHO I ALSO NEED TO DRAW] GOT CAUGHT UP IN THE FRAY WHILE PLAYING WITH KANAKO [AND AXIS TOO]. UPON SEEING HIS FRIENDS GET HURT. SOMETHING CLICKS.

AXIS HAD TRAINED UP TO THIS POINT. THIS WAS HIS MOMENT. HE HAD TO SAVE THE PEOPLE FROM THE THREAT IN FRONT OF THEM. INSTINCTS KICK IN AND HE GOES IN TO FIGHT THE MONSTER WHILE DALV TAKES KANAKO TO SAFETY.

THIS MONSTER WAS TOUGH. HE WAS ALMOST KILLED. BUT HE HAD TO PERSEVERE.

SOMETHING JUST ACTIVATED IN HIS SOUL.

HE FELT A SURGE OF POWER. THE ONLY THING HE KNEW IN THAT MOMENT WAS TO.

GET. RID. OF. THE. THREAT.

IN FRONT OF HIM WAS JUST. A HEADLESS BODY THAT SLOWLY FADED INTO DUST.

THAT... HE DIDNT MEAN TO GO THAT FAR.

SIMILAR TO CLOVER IN GENOCIDE, AXIS HAD RAPIDLY LEVELED UP AND SHOT A POWERFUL ATTACK AT THE MONSTER IN RESPONSE TO ALMOST DYING. HE NEEDED TO KEEP GOING NO MATTER WHAT.

STILL. THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS ACTIONS LAID HEAVY ON HIM.

HE HAD KILLED A LIVING, BREATHING THING.

SOON AFTER CHUJIN WALKED IN ON THE SCENE COMPLETELY HORRIFIED. AXIS, ASHAMED OF WHAT HE HAD DONE RAN TOWARD STEAMWORKS TO ISOLATE HIMSELF, SIMILAR TO DALV.

SURE, HE HAD SAVED PEOPLE FROM THAT MONSTER BUT DID HE HAVE TO BE SO GRUESOME?

CHUJIN RAN AFTER HIM, TRYING TO GET HIM BACK

CHUJIN FINDS HIM AT STEAMWORKS, WALLOWING IN JUST. EVERY EMOTION.

HE TRIES TO COMFORT HIM THOUGH AXIS IS STILL INSISTENT ON NOT GOING OUT.

THE TWO REACHED THE COMPROMISE THAT: AXIS WOULD GUARD AND PROTECT STEAMWORKS AND THAT CHUJIN WOULD CHECK UP ON HIM EVERY NOW AND THEN.

SO THATS WHAT HE DID. HE STAYED AT STEAMWORKS, WATCHING OVER THE PLACE AND ITS ROBOTS FOR….. AGES.

EVENTUALLY CHUJIN'S CHECK UPS GET MORE SPARSE UNTIL JUST. NOTHING.

AXIS NOTICES TOO THAT LESS AND LESS SCIENTISTS ARE PRESENT AT STEAMWORKS. UNTIL THERE IS NO ONE THERE.

WHEN ASKED IF HE WAS GOING TO LEAVE

TOO HE SAID

"NO. MY FATHER AND I HAD REACHED THE AGREEMENT THAT I WOULD STAY AND PATROL THIS AREA, AND THAT I WILL DO." THERE WAS NO CONVINCING HIM TO LEAVE. SO THE OTHERS RELUCTANTLY LEFT HIM BE.

DAY BY DAY HE WATCHES STEAMWORKS FLOOD AND DECAY. WHILE HE STAYS THERE TRYING TO KEEP UP THE AGREEMENT BETWEEN HIS FATHER AND HIMSELF.

NO ONE HAD TOLD HIM.

ONE DAY THOUGH HE FINDS THAT STEAMWORKS SUDDENLY ACTIVATES RIGHT BEFORE SEEING A MONSTER ONCE AGAIN.

OH HE REMEMBERS THE PAST WELL. IN THIS AU IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM TO GET HIS MEMORY ERASED.

WHILE THE EVENTS PLAY OUT MOSTLY THE SAME COMPARED TO NORMAL UTY.

AXIS SEEMS MORE HESITANT THAN USUAL. AND PROBABLY MONOLOGUING A LITTLE SIMILAR TO WHAT DALV DOES

BEING A HUMAN. HE POSES LESS OF A THREAT ON HIS OWN. HOWEVER. MY GUY SETS UP HOME ALONE TYPE TRAPS N SHIT TO TRY AND CATCH CLOVER INSTEAD [PART OF HIS ROYAL GUARD TRAINING!!.

ONLY RESORTING TO USING "ROBOTIC MODIFICATIONS" HE HAD FOUND WHEN CLOVER REALLY [ticks] HIM OFF.

AND YES. HE STILL GETS A ROBOT SPOUSE IF A PACIFIST PLAYTHROUGH HAPPENS. HUMAN AXIS IS OBJECTUM. ITS REAL.

SO YEAH THAT IS ALL THE THINGS I THINK.

HOLY SHIT THIS THREAD IS LONG. FEW PEOPLE WILL READ THIS I THINK BUT I STILL WANTED TO GET STUPID AU THOUGHTS OUT. UH. YEAH HOPE THAT IS GOOD OR SMTH.. FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS 🥺

[thatoneastralghost]

Justice & Patience Redesign

Justice SOUL: Clover

Name: Michael West

Age: 13

Gender: Nonbinary

Pronouns: He/They

Patience SOUL: Rain

Name: Abigail Winters

Age: 7

Gender: Nonbinary

Pronouns: She/They

Description: (TW: Mentioned death, death, depression, child neglect, child abuse.)

Clover lived on a farm with his mother and father with his twin sister, who had been close too. But after their mom had an affair with another man from Ebott City, their family started falling apart, until one day their dad died after being hit by a car. After which, they moved to Ebott City.

Clover and Rain are half siblings who fell about a year and a half apart from one another. They were very close to one another, as Clover practically raised Rain while his mother was often drunk, and their step-father (Rain's father) both didn't care, nor wanted children. Clover and his twin sister were close, but they drifted apart as she blamed Rain for ruining their family, while Clover didn't.

Rain had always gotten hand-me-down clothes, usually from Clover, due to both being the youngest, and their parents not caring much. So Rain first gifts, and new clothing items that they had ever gotten was their hair ribbon, toy knife, and rain boots, all of which had been given to them by Clover. So Rain cherished them until the day she died.

Clover had already been in a bad place mentally after losing their biological father, so losing their little sister, and then their two only friends in about a year and half did a lot to Cover's mental health, and left them depressed and with low self esteem, which they typically use jokes and puns to cover, and try to make it seem like they are fine. This is what mostly caused Clover to climb to mountain and jump in to find the missing kids.

FUN FACTS

Clover:

- Has the most determination outside of Fisk, Chara, & Flowey

- Can remember Resets because of this

- Sixth to fall

- Jumped to find (or avenge) the other missing kids as they felt they had no reason to live

- Has a twin sister named Jessie West (I might draw her later)

- Dad died after being hit by a car when Clover was eight

- Almost all of Clover's clothes are too big for them, as they used to belong to their dad.

- This includes their cowboy hat.

- Clover was a nickname given to them by their dad when they were a kid because they were their dad's “lucky Clover”

- Older Half Sibling of Rain/Abigail

- Used to enjoy dancing/playing in the rain, but stopped after Rain "went missing"

- Is farsighted and absolutely needs glasses but never wears them

- Had mental health issues since their dad died with them just getting worse after Rain, Bravery, and Integrity fell into the underground

- Knows how to sew, is pretty good at it

- knows how to dance, learned from Integrity, stopped after Integrity "went missing"

- Is the fastest of the fallen children

- They know how to do small wood carvings, weren't very good at it, but enjoyed it.

- Died to Asgore (Trident) during a true pacifist route. (He spared Ceroba, left their gun, bandana, & hat with their new friends, and then left to fight Asgore (with their toy gun) to attempt to finish their mission.)

Rain:

- Third to fall

- Fell by accident after being bullied up the mountain at school

- Was much closer with Clover than Jessie

- Youngest of the three kids

- Clothes are hand-me-downs from Clover, outside of the hair ribbon & boots, which were gifts from Clover.

- Is very observant but not many people realize it

- She's a very quiet kid, mainly because Clover is usually very quiet and she learns a lot from him.

- She enjoys drawing, and would draw pictures for Clover to express how much she cares about him

- Clover did Rain's hair a lot, though pigtails were their go-to style.

- She enjoys the rain a lot, hence her nickname

- She likes bugs, is good at finding them, and usually creeps other people out because of that.

- Died to a Royal Guard in Snowdin

I will likely add to this at a later date!

I hope you all have a wonderful day or night, stay safe!

[popsickless]

Neuvillette ♡-part 1

___________

"Someones crying for help?" Navias attention instantly gave way. The cries were distant but noticeable. Your head snapped towards the crowd of trees on the left of the Opera Eclipse.

"A melusine? Of course." You frowned, instantly packing up the picnic navia had set at the table near the water fall. To think the world was a better place now, that melusines finally had a home in fontaine. "They're still getting singled out?!" Growling to yourself, taking about 10 stomps towards the situation.

Navia follows quickly, yelling worrs that were coming through one ear, and out the next. You didn't have time to listen, it made you sick to the stomach that you had to intervene with harassment towards a harmless creature. There they were, a bunch of low life treasure hoarders ganging up on the poor girl. It didnt take you a second thought to draw out the sword.

"You filthy rats." The blade pointed to the hoarder closest to the melusine. The other 2 backed off, with smug smiles on their faces. "I might just have to kill you instead of sending you to the fortress of meropide" The anger was toxic, toxic enough to make you seem out like the bad one in the situation.

You swipe the blade underneath the brown haired hoarders feet, dropping him to the faded greenery within seconds. "At least it will be a better punishment than facing Wriothesely himself." Spoken in a low tone but loud enough to create an audience.

Acting a victim, the treasure hoarder rises both hands. "Y-you're seriously going to let these monstrosities of a species manipulate you?" The disgusting thing stated. Oh how your breath was going shallow, your hands shaking out of fear. The end of your blade touches the skin of the fox's neck. "Normally id let pathetic people like you live, but i guess there can be a change of plans." The light from your eyes fading as you finally go to take the last strike.

Deafening pleads from the criminal, slowly fades as a soft hand touches your shoulder. The blade shifts away from the bandits skin. Your eyes drift to the side, out of curiosity to wonder who in the hell would stop you, or even try stopping you. A white and blue haired man, looking at you with a soft smile, it was almost reassuring.

"I understand your feelings, i too have a soft spot for melusines." The elegant voice began to speak. Everyone around instantly went silent. "But killing the culprit doesnt make you any better."

Your arm drops completely as you take another horrified glance at the treasure hoarder, sprawled on the floor. The melusine, stood close next to the blue figure. "I understand neuvillette." You nod, softly taking his hand off the top of your shoulder.

Neuvillettes expression suddenly goes dull as he turns towards the trio of treasure hoarders. "Whats the situation?" He asks. You stand by quietly watching the conversations go down.

"Its that weirdo who let them freaks into our home." One of the hoarders whisper to one another. There it was. That anger. You was about to draw my sword again if neuvillette didnt do something quick. Navia taps your arm and shakes her head, reassuring that everything was now under control. "Is that so? How would you folks prefer the fortress of meropide be your new home instead?" Neuvillettes tone was surprisingly calm but assertive. The bandits looked at eachother cautiously. It didnt take long for them to submit. After a long discussion, a bunch of paperworks and a tiny tantrums from Wriothesely, the treasure hoarders were sent to 8 months of reinforcement underground.

It was now late in the evening, Navias assistants went to go take the melusine home, while her, you, Wriothesely and neuvillette were in the office of the fortress of meropide. "The guy will be taught a lesson dont you worry." Wriothesely recklessly announces as he sits behind his desk. You quietly tut and look to the side. You didnt doubt him, but you sure as hell wanted to punish the bastards yourself.

You cross your arms looking dead into Wriotheselys eyes. "I hope so.." you all stand there for a moment and Wriothesely lets out a small chuckle. "You cant result to violence whenever something goes down with a melusine." Navia lightly jokes. Although she wasnt wrong. You werent the best at dealing with your emotions in the heat of the moment.

"You have to respect her cause though, to instantly put yourself in the middle of a situation without a second thought, highly admirable but selfless. Some would even say selfish." Neuvillette states, placing his knuckle underneath his chin while gazing towards the floor. His eyes slowly drifted towards yours. "What you did today was foolish."

Normally when anyone makes comments about your actions, it's just like stepping over a bug, not trying to kill it. You didnt give a damn about what others thought of your methods. But everytime neuvillette had a comment about it, it made your teeth grit. It would even sometimes make you rethink your whole life. And it was irritating. You were speachless for a second. You really wanted to ream him about not taking responsibility and blah blah blah. You werent childish or foolish. God, you would only prove his point if you argued back.

"Yeah, ill rethink that one overnight.." you jokingly mumble, knowing full well you werent joking. You were going to be up all night thinking about neuvillettes petty comment. Even though hes right. After some time of filling in documents about the treasure hoarders, and the incident itself. You were all sent home for the night.

Taking a long and silent walk back to your place, alone. It was dead in the middle of the city of fontaine so it wasnt that far to walk, the thoughts about neuvillette made the journey quicker anyway. The daily night routine was done, you had set out your work outfit for tomorrow and had send the documents to Wriothesely. Now you were just layed in bed on your back, staring at the ceiling.

"If neuvillette had actually done his job, and made a proper introduction and home for the melusines. I wouldnt of gotten into that situation today." Thats all you could think to yourself, all night.

The next morning, you are woken up with the same mechanical clock sounding alarm. It did your head in but that's the whole point right. Like every morning you go to check the post box at the side of your house. Reading the front of the envelope expecting it to be about charlottes morning newspaper. The pupils of your eyes dilated instantly.

Good morning:

It would be highly appreciated if you come to visit me this morning.

- neuvillette

[cosmicjoke]

Levi seems like the person who wont open up to people easily but that scene with nifa comes back to me and I wonder why he suddenly wanted to talk, was it because of the context with kenny and everything maybe

I think definitely the situation was reminding Levi of his time with Kenny. Kenny taught Levi how to "survive" in the Underground, and we can sort of extrapolate from that that Kenny likely put Levi into situations similar to ones like the operation Levi and his squad were running, as a way to test his skill and the lessons he imparted. Levi mentions to Nifa, sort of off-handedly, that he was raised by Kenny the Ripper, and when Nifa dismisses it as a joke, Levi stops talking, but continues thinking about how Kenny influenced the way he thinks. Levi's entire plan for drawing out their enemies was likely something similar to what Kenny had trained him in, running that kind of reconnaissance, etc... It's why Kenny is able to anticipate Levi's plan and moves, because Levi's "plan" and "moves" were basically what Kenny had taught him as a child. Levi realizes that what he's seeing on the ground is very much like something that Kenny would have set up for him as a training exercise, basically, just a split second before Kenny sneaks up behind him and blasts Nifa's head off. If Levi hadn't realized it in that moment, he probably would have gotten his own head shot off too. As it was, he tried to warn Nifa, but he just didn't have enough time.

So I think he opens up to Nifa about Kenny in that moment because the situation and what he's seeing unfold on the ground reminds him of one of Kenny's lessons, and it takes him a moment to realize that it seems so familiar because it IS one of Kenny's lessons, only played out with genuine intent this time. He realizes Kenny means to kill him and his squad. It's basically like Kenny's sick idea of a test. If Levi passes, he gets to live, but if he fails, then he dies. That was Kenny playing for keeps. He's basically testing Levi to see how his little experiment with him turned out, to see if all the lessons he taught him stuck or not.

Just as an aside, it really bugs me when I see people dismiss this as some expression of love on Kenny's part, or as if it's some sort of gesture of respect on Kenny's part. No, Kenny meant to kill Levi, and he was okay with killing Levi if Levi failed to display the hardened, killer instincts that Kenny had pounded into him as a child. That tells us so much about just how fucked up Kenny's treatment of Levi as a child was, and what Levi himself would have taken from those lessons. He essentially was telling Levi that if he wasn't "strong", meaning if he wasn't willing and able to kill other people, then he himself didn't deserve to live, and we see that philosophy of Kenny's being tested ON Levi in this scene. Kenny isn't holding back. He's genuinely trying to murder his own nephew. People don't really seem to stop to consider the psychological damage this had to have had on Levi growing up. This idea that, if he wasn't able to fight back, his own life was worthless. We see the consequence of that on Levi during the Battle of Heaven and Earth, when Levi expresses this belief that if he doesn't get up and fight, despite being half-dead, everyone else will just forget he even exists. That's Levi expressing that he considers his own life worthless if he isn't able to "be strong" like Kenny taught him. The great heartbreak in that is, Levi only applies that standard to himself. He doesn't feel that way about other people's lives. To Levi, everyone else's lives are precious, whether they're strong or not. And in that, we see Levi able to overcome and cast off Kenny's destructive lessons about life's worth, or lack thereof. Unlike Kenny, Levi doesn't judge any life to be worth less if the person it belongs to isn't able to reach a certain standard of strength. It's only himself that he lets that standard apply to, which is deeply tragic, I think.

[chaoticgenderfae]

Thinking about Star Rail lore again, and I have to wonder, where are all the peaceful followers of the Abundance? Where are all the humanitarian (or whatever you call it in a setting with many different species) groups?

Because they should exist; if any Path is going to draw in ordinary people who simply want to make the universe a better place, it's the Abundance. There should be groups like Médecins Sans Frontières, roaming around and providing aid to victims of wars, natural disasters, pandemics, etc. There should be environmentalist groups dedicated to repairing unstable biospheres and terraforming barren planets. Pathstriders of Abundance would be highly sought-after in medical and agricultural careers. One of the few examples we do have in canon, the original Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, were notable for building apothecaries to help the poor, and did a lot of work to modernise the Xianzhou's healthcare system.

Unfortunately, I think there's a rather simple and depressing answer to this question: the Xianzhou. They're one of the most powerful factions around, and despite being ostensibly the good guys, can be quite merciless. Look at what they were willing to do to a single pacifist Borisin on a diplomatic mission, for example. So, it's likely a lot of smaller Abundance factions ended up as collateral damage in the Xianzhou's grand crusade; and now the only truly organized followers of the Abundance left are the few small groups "allowed" to remain...and the most militant extremist factions. Which the Xianzhou can then point to as justification for their war. And with how the IPC exploited Sigonia and the Avgin in the wake of the genocide they suffered, I doubt they'd bother to step in. The original Disciples, who became the Cold Springs Sect, were said to have been looked upon with pity until they abandoned their worship of Yaoshi, but with the ongoing wars, there was likely a lot of pressure on them - and possibly even threats made against them - to conform. And there's probably similar societal pressure applied against smaller groups like the Elixir Seekers and the Unshackled. After all, we've seen time and time again in the modern age what governments will do to minority groups they view as sympathetic to their enemies.

So we're left with underground rebel groups like the modern Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, and the Denizens of Abundance and the Borisin Packs whom the Xianzhou are perpetually at war with. And yes, the Denizens are a threat and the Borisin are marauding slavers and the Disciples worked with Phantylia. They all need to be stopped, and the Xianzhou are in a position to do that.

But the point of this is, it's quite likely that the history of the Hunt's war with the Abundance is a lot more nuanced than the black-and-white Hunt = Good, Abundance = Bad story that the Xianzhou like to present to the universe. The point is that, even in a justified war, innocents will get caught in the line of fire.

No Path or Aeon is inherently good or evil. Yes, even Nanook. THEY are all concepts or ideals taken to the logical extreme; more akin to forces of nature than anything else. Lan may eradicate dangerous monsters from the universe, but THEY have a habit of shooting through their own followers to do so, and the thought of what THEY might do without Yaoshi to focus THEIR wrath on is quite worrying. Yaoshi, for THEIR part, simply does not know when to stop and creates horrors as a result - but THEY and THEIR Path have a lot of capacity for doing good, as well.

[9w1ft]

lord you made me feel importunt..

so basically… i feel like taylor is singing from karlie’s perspective in WCS. and i think she is addressing two people— taylor and josh.

i imagine this song as the culmination of a lot of arguments and negotiations between the three of them over the years about how to proceed with things. i think it’s not too wild to imagine that karlie has been caught in the middle of the two of them a lot, in terms of emotional labor. i don’t have a specific time pinpointed for this song but maybe it is the “night i nearly lost you” that taylor talks about in the great war. it was karlie finally reaching her boiling point, and airing her grievances at both of them.

judging by interviews and karlie’s overall persona and demeanor, i think that karlie is the type of person who puts others before herself, and doesn’t easily let things get to her. so i imagine that when she does get angry enough to raise her voice, that it’s very jarring and would stick with you.

here is a selection of lines that i draw parallels with, which, in aggregate, make me think wcs fits more in the kaylor narrative than anything about jm:

years of tearing down our banners // tore our banners down took the battle underground

living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts // i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired

if i never blushed, then they could've never whispered about this // they whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl"

if you never touched me, i would've gone along with the righteous // touch me and you’ll never be alone

and if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? // you paint dreamscapes on the wall

i keep on waiting for a sign // you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time // you say what a mind, this happens all the time

i miss who i used to be // remind her how it used to be

the tomb won’t close // spineless in my tomb of silence

memories feel like weapons // we can plant a memory garden

some other small points are..

i think she sings with a certain tone to her voice that reminds me of karlie. her emphasis on the word “important” reminds me of how karlie famously pronounces that word funnily, and there are a few expressions that remind me of how people in the midwest/southern united states speak “damn sure never would’ve” “but lord you made me feel” “god’s honest truth” “god rest my soul” etc

plus, karlie was introduced to josh at 19 years old so. there’s that parallel too.

so given these things i think the first verses might be addressed to josh and the second verse to taylor and maybe the third is to both of them. “if clarity’s in death than why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners you and i” at her and “living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts give me back my girlhood it was mine first” at him

and a sidenote: following a similar framework i actually think it’s possible that illicit affairs is also from karlie’s perspective directed at the two of them.. “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby”

i also think it’s sort of important that both of them are older than karlie, in terms of the dynamics. i feel like maybe it had made karlie feel like a toy or pawn or not listened to… or that the way they talked about what karlie should do—their style of communication when risk assessing—might have felt too clinical at times. the muse as object. and over time, perhaps she looked back and wondered, was this right? should i have gone along with everything like i did? or was it just what i grew up knowing?

listening to the song this way makes me incredibly emotional.. getting so close to being together publicly indefinitely, all the praise and centering of karlie as the hero and centerfold of taylor’s life during 1989 era, only for the backtracking and erasing. one might also say we were starting to get flickers of this with early lover era. years of tearing down banners.

so yeah… and, we count renegade as written from her lover’s perspective because of the tn tweet,

so i think it’s not that far out to assume she wrote other songs with karlie’s perspective too

just this idea of taylor taking the time to explore her muse’s perspective.

so yeah, this is my thought.

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: stockholm syndrome, Dabi comforting reader, betrayal (by Hawks), mention of death (addressing Magne), mention of past injury (Mr.Compress), spoilers

Author's Note: I really tried my best, but I felt like it would be best to push the smut back a chapter. Though, I intend on making it extra spicy and long to compensate. Pls forgive me ;-;

Word Count: 5.4K

Link to AO3

Chapter Nine: Betrayal

You feel frozen in place, despite still being doubled over on the floor from coughing. Speaking of the floor, it takes you a bit by surprise to see your surroundings are so upscale. The marble tiles under your hands feel cold, and the ridiculously high ceilings of the foyer somehow give you agoraphobia. Judging by that and the grand staircase, you must be in some rich benefactor’s home. 

Dabi chuckles a bit at your confused stupor, understanding that the League being in a place like this must be a bit jarring for you. He stands up from his spot on the grand stairs and walks over to you, offering a hand to help you stand. You hesitantly take it and the memories seem to flood in at the contact. As soon as you’re standing, your hand slips out of his and you wring your hands together, as if it will quell the flashbacks. You seem to be distracted by the nostalgic haze until a passing thought brings you back.

“Wait, where’s Toga?” You suddenly remember, starting to come out of your initial state of shock. For good measure, you look around the room only to see no sight of the blonde teen. “She was holding me with a death grip before I showed up here.”

“The brat had another mission to run, Ujiko transported her somewhere else,” he answers. Your brow furrows at the unfamiliar name. From the sound of it, Ujiko must be some new member. Judging by that and the extravagant room you’re in, a lot must have changed for the league. Just what all happened in the months you’ve been apart?

“So where are we?” You ask, anxiously. 

“Deika city,” he nonchalantly answers. You sigh and rub your temples. You were hoping he’d give you a more specific answer, not some vague information about a city you’ve never heard of. 

“Okay, but which part of Deika city is hosting a get-together for villains in a fucking mansion?” Your snarky comment earns a soft chuckle from him.

“You’re thinking too small, doll,” he says. “This whole city is ours. Deika City is filled with villains.”

You freeze. 

He has to be joking.

But when you look at his slightly proud and smug expression, you realize he’s not. Your stomach sinks and your blood runs cold. A city filled with villains, a city filled with allies of the LOV is your worst nightmare. If you flee and are spotted in the streets, you’d be royally fucked. Though, if there are more people in their ranks, your possible openings are strangled. It’s unlikely you could manage to slip away, not with their numbers now.

“How exactly did that happen? You don’t just go from a villain club of eight to over a hundred overnight,” you ask, incredulously. 

“It’s a bit of a long story,” he starts. “All you really need to know is that we’re called the Paranormal Liberation Front now, and this is home base. We’re a lot bigger than before.”

“I see…” You mumble, struggling to absorb everything. To say your situation is overwhelming would be an understatement, but if your experience is going to be anything like the last time, you have to keep up. So far, doing that is easier said than done.

“Eh? That’s not what I was expecting from you. You ran out of sarcastic comments or something?” He goads, smirking at you. 

“I mean, I guess I could say ‘good job’ on not burning all the new recruits for once,” you offer, your playful jabs lacking their usual enthusiasm. “Guess you’ve changed a bit on that front.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I did burn a few,” he admits. You’re not really surprised at the confession. “‘S not like I’ve changed that much.” 

He’s right. Despite the time that has passed and all the changes the league has undergone, Dabi remains mostly the same, almost exactly as you last saw him. Though, there is one thing that’s a bit different about him. He’s not nearly as thin as he once was. The muscles in his arms are more defined, and judging from how some of his burns have started to slowly spread, you wager it's a result of fighting and using his quirk. 

His voice draws you out of your thoughts before you’re able to think about it more. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” he says. He starts walking off down a nearby hall and passes an expecting glance at you over his shoulder. Not wanting to be left alone in an entirely new place, one filled with strangers and potentially unpredictable villains, you follow close behind.

All you can do is follow him through the halls, navigating around strangers as you go. It makes you uneasy, to see so many new people and to feel them watching you with mild interest. You find yourself staying closer to Dabi’s side, hoping that his presence would dissuade them from making some gross comments. After what happened with Muscular, you’re much more guarded around new villains and much more eager to stay close to Dabi. Even though you’re in this situation, at the very least, Dabi has your back. Remembering the way he protected you and cared for you makes facing whatever comes next a little easier. You can’t help but trust him. Though, even with him at your side, the fear of others doesn’t fully dissipate. 

Dabi occasionally steals glances at you as the two of you walk through the halls. He can see the stress clearly written on your face. Dabi’s not delusional, not like how Toga and Twice can be. He knows you’re not too thrilled to be here. You didn’t choose this life, and to be pulled into the league’s whirlwind again has to be more than just frustrating. Not only that, but he can tell you’re on edge here. It’s gotta be terrifying to be around so many villains, to be around so many strangers at once. He’s good at reading you, and he can tell you’re worried about your safety.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to ya, you’ll be okay,” he assures. You cast him a look of doubt, unable to believe his reassurance.

“How do you know though?” You counter. 

He wants to say, ‘Because I won’t let anyone hurt you’ or maybe even ‘Cause I’ll be by your side’, but he can’t seem to bring himself to open his mouth and tell you his feelings. You’re already spooked as it is. Besides the small part of him that fears your rejection, he’s afraid of scaring you off by saying something so sappy and soft.

“I just do,” he replies instead. You remain unconvinced, your disbelief still deeply rooted in your face. He doesn’t know what else to say, how else to console you. He guesses that the only thing he can really do for you right now is to get you to your new room. Maybe you’ll return to your old self after settling in. At least, he hopes so. 

“Okay,” you softly respond, your voice sounding detached and empty. You don’t ask what’s next, silently surrendering yourself to whatever comes your way. He leads the way, and you wordlessly follow.

The gravity of the situation continues to weigh down on you as you pass more throngs of villains loitering in the halls. You’re starting to doubt you could ever get away due to the sheer numbers the PLF has amassed, not that you were able to escape before when there were fewer villains keeping you in check. With the league, just a handful of people with dangerous quirks was enough to dissuade any reckless attempts to run. Back then, you tried to methodically bide your time and plan around any weak links, but in the end, it was the heroes that got you out. But now? There are way more eyes watching you. If that wasn’t bad enough, you’re completely unfamiliar with your new environment. Any attempts to run would be an ill-advised gamble with your life, and you’re not really in any position to be making any bets. 

Maybe it’s time to fold your cards.

Maybe… maybe you should just give up. 

There seems to be a commotion coming from down the hall, causing you to pause your depressed spiraling and put your thoughts on the back burner. Your ears pick up on the sound of a familiar voice calling both yours and Dabi’s names, and you look up to see a familiar black and gray bodysuit approaching the two of you. It’s none other than Twice, happily waving at you as he makes his way over.

“Heya y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” he greets in an excessively cheerful tone, a hallmark of one of his more positive split personalities. In true Twice fashion, he immediately follows up with the opposite. “Ugh, why is she here?”

“Hey, Twice,” you greet. Instead of lying and saying you’re glad to see him again, because seeing Twice and getting kidnapped typically go hand in hand, you decide to make innocent small talk. “How are you and the others holding up?”

“I’ve been great ever since finding out I’m not a clone! I can make copies of myself again without worrying I’ll disappear, it’s amazing! The others have been doing well, and super busy too. Toga, Spinner, Dabi and I have a lot to do in the PLF now that we’re commanders of the PLF,” Twice answers, extremely enthusiastic. 

‘Wow, okay. That’s a lot of information all at once,’ you think. You’re still reeling from the outpour of Twice’s hurried and lively words. Though through the jumbled facts and new changes, you noticed something. His omission of quite a few members has you concerned.

“What about Magne? And Compress?” There’s a sharp silence and a slight pause in his actions. His reaction makes you regret asking. Clearly, something terrible has happened.

“Magne,” Twice starts, trailing off. His voice is strained with sadness, and his hands seem to shake as well when he completes his sentence, “She’s… no longer around.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, offering your condolences. Although you didn’t know her for long, and she was another obstacle in your escape, you still find yourself feeling a little shocked and upset. What’s more is you noticed how Twice avoided saying anything about Compress, serving to heighten your emotions. “Did… Did Compress also..?”

“Lost an arm. He’s okay though,” he explains. You sigh a little in relief, before catching yourself. Aren’t you supposed to feel indifferent about this? Since when have you grown to care this much? As you’re about to spiral into confusion, Twice bounces back from his previous bout of grief, changing the conversation to something more lighthearted. “You should see his new prosthetic, it’s super cool!” To which he immediately follows up with, in a much whinier voice, “No it’s not! It’s a big hunk of metal, how is that cool?”

“It’s good he pulled through at least,” you reply. Given what happened to Magne, you’re afraid to ask about Kurogiri, fearing you’d get the same answer. You decide to tuck it in the back of your mind and ask some other point in time. You’ve had enough grief for one day.

Twice’s tone switches, designating a switch, and he speaks once more, “You know, it’s great that you’re back, I was starting to worry about Dabi. The man was really mopey there for a while.” Dabi shoots Twice a glare, an interaction that you’d normally find funny. 

“Hey Twice, didn’t you have to go meet Sanctum right around now?” Dabi asks in an annoyed tone. Twice instantly stops in his tracks.

“Oh crap, you’re right! I gotta go! See ya later,” he rushes out. His tone switches as he’s hurrying past the two of you and he jeers, “Yeah! Have fun with your girlfriend, Dabi!” Twice quickly runs down the hall, leaving the two of you alone together once more. 

“Tch, that fucking guy,” he grumbles. You can tell Twice’s teasing embarrassed him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and averts his gaze, his cheeks still painted pink. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.” 

The two of you start walking off together, headed to some unknown destination to you. He leads you through the halls, passing by people conversing along the walls. From what you can tell, the PLF is made of very diverse people. You’ve seen several interesting, unique mutant-type quirks within their ranks. But you can’t help but wonder, amongst all these people, surely one must have a healing quirk. If that’s the case, why would they want you?

“Hey, Dabi, can I ask you something?” You ask suddenly, breaking the silence. He glances over at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you continue to walk on.

“I guess,” he answers. He can’t help but feel a little uneasy at your random question. Just what are you wanting to know?

“I can’t help but wonder… Why have I been brought here? There are other healers out there, surely there’s at least a couple around,” you confront. He stops in his tracks. 

Your movements stall and you swallow thickly, nervously waiting for his explanation. He’s not really sure how to go about this, hence his stalling.  There are a lot of things he knew you wouldn’t be too happy to hear. Besides Magne and Compress, this is one of them. He just didn’t think you’d ask about this so soon. But then again, you’ve never been one to hold your tongue and suppress your curiosity. You’d bring it up eventually. 

“Again, it’s a bit of a long story,” he avoids.

“It’s not like we don’t have time,” you urge. He sighs. Your insistence forces his hand.

“The short bit is that before we joined forces with this group and became the PLF, they had some weird ideas. They only really accepted strong, offensive-type quirks, anything that can be used tactfully, ya know? So there aren’t many healers around, if at all,” he explains. As much as that’s an acceptable answer, you can just tell there’s more. Yes, you understand that they need healers, but it still doesn’t explain why you were wanted specifically. You look at Dabi expectantly, encouraging him to continue. “And, well, to be honest, Shigaraki is still a little pissed over the hideout raid and losing Kurogiri. Getting you back was a win for him.”

“So what, I’m a part of some revenge plot?” You scoff.

“In a way. Taking you back was a mix of wanting to make sure our informants were trustworthy and wanting to test the competency of the heroes,” he clarifies. There’s a smug look on his face when he adds, “And it looks to me the heroes failed, but who’s really surprised there?” Your face drops. 

“What do you mean?” You interrogate. “How have they failed?”

“They haven’t launched an attack to rescue you,” he points out. “Which means they either don’t know where we are yet, or they have bigger plans and won’t risk exposing their advantage over someone they deem ‘expendable’. You know, all that ‘greater good’ bullshit.”

It felt like a punch to the stomach, to hear him so bluntly state that you’re viewed as sacrificial. The worst part is, the logical part of your brain can’t even formulate a counterargument. Dabi knows tactics. What he says is true. But even so, you still hold onto a bit of irrational hope. You continue to deny the idea that the heroes have left you to the wolves. You’ll survive and find your way out of this forest. You’ll be saved and put this all behind you, right?

“How do you know? How can you be so sure?” You argue. Your rebuttal sounds unsure. The shakiness of your voice gives away your lack of confidence.

“Well, to start,” he begins. The conversation seems to fade into the background as you see a flash of color in the nearby crowd. 

No.

There’s no way.

Your stomach sinks and your breath gets caught in your throat upon seeing crimson-red wings. You desperately hope you’re mistaken, and that when you blink your eyes, you’ll realize it was all a trick of the light, a sheer hallucination. Only, it never happens. Your fears are confirmed by the sound of his carefree laugh. Hawks is here, happily conversing with other PLF members like he belongs. What’s worse is you recognize a few of his friends to be heroes as well. You even see that Sliding Hero in the group, the one that Toga disguised herself as. 

You can’t believe you trusted the heroes.

You regret trusting Hawks.

How could you have been so blind? How could you have felt at ease around him? How could you have believed the heroes were on your side? How could you ever have thought you’d escape from all this? Seeing him here makes you realize that you were never safe. The veil of safety was a lie. 

Hawks’s feathers seem to stiffen and quirk up, as if he can feel you staring daggers in the back of his head. He glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with you. Your eyes start burning upon seeing his face. His eyes widen and his eyebrows raise, almost imperceptibly so. He doesn’t stare for a moment longer and tears his gaze away from you, directing his attention back to the group of PLF members in front of him. You can’t seem to look anywhere else while your mind spirals out of control, filled with endless thoughts of self-blame and despair. 

With the grim realization that the PLF is everywhere and the lack of viable escape opportunities, your future seems completely out of your control. You’re now nothing but a passenger in your own life. The tides of change have already swept over your life, and now it is time for you to sink or swim. But how are you supposed to keep going when you have this anchor tethered to you? The weight of hopelessness is slowly drowning you. You’re sinking down to rock bottom. 

A couple tears fall over your lash line as you silently cry. You’re completely defeated. 

There is no getting away from here. 

Escape is foolish. 

A hopeless pipe dream.

All the while you’re on the downward descent into hopelessness, Dabi takes notice of your catatonic state, not that it was hard to, with how you froze and stopped responding. As long as he’s known you, he’s not seen you cry once. It amazed him, honestly, how you were so strong. He’s seen notorious villains crumple at the league’s feet, folding under the weight of their fear. But you… you held your head high. You hid your feelings behind a sharp tongue and a veil of sarcasm, always ready to quip back at Shigaraki, a man that can erase anybody from existence with a single touch. Seeing you like this, seemingly broken, is more than disconcerting. 

Just what is going on in that head of yours? What happened to make you fall apart like this?

He follows your eyes, realizing they’re glued to the group of people in front of you. To him, there’s nothing out of the ordinary, just normal PLF members talking to each other. But it’s then he realizes why you might be upset; they’re heroes. This is your first time seeing their kind amongst the PLF. You're seeing his truth, you’re seeing the world as he sees it: a corrupt society filled with false heroes. False heroes that lie and cheat, with hands nearly dirtier than his. When he first became aware of the facade, when he was no longer blind to the propaganda, he reacted with hatred and rage. But you aren’t feeling what he felt. Your situation and his are not the same. You’re gripped with shock and despair. You didn’t willingly enter this life like he did. And unlike him, you can’t fight back against the injustices of society, not with your support quirk. 

But there is one more thing that’s different; you won't be alone. 

Like he was.

“Y/n,” Dabi calls, pulling you out of your stunned stupor. You’re slow to snap out of the daze, reacting much slowly under the weight of depression. 

“Huh? What?��� you reply. You’re careful not to turn to his voice, lest he gets an unobstructed view of you and realizes you’ve been crying. Unbeknownst to you, he already saw. 

“You spaced out on me,” he says.

“O-oh,” you stutter. You turn your head in an attempt to hide your tears and wipe evidence away, subtly. Your voice wavers a bit when you offer a meek and quiet, “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” he dismisses. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” you choke out. Your voice betrays you and cracks under the strain of your emotions. You swallow against the lump in your throat, determined to mask your feelings. “I’m fine.” He looks at you with doubt and disbelief, narrowing his shrewd, cobalt eyes at your pitiful effort at lying. His expression is telling; he knows you’re lying. You’re at least thankful he doesn’t press the issue. 

He glances over back at the heroes, hearing Hawks’s annoyingly cheery laugh ring through the room. Dabi doesn’t want to stay here any longer, not when the reminder of your sadness is constantly hovering nearby. “Let’s just get out of here, yeah?”

You agree, all too eagerly, and the two of you continue on, this time, without interruptions. The silence that settles between the two of you as he leads you to some unknown location gives you a brief respite. You can breathe easier as you walk behind him, now no longer concerned with hiding your apparent emotional state. It helps to see the halls start to thin out as you walk by. From what you can tell, not many loiter around this wing of the building. You’re practically alone with Dabi, save for a few passersby.

He finally stops in front of the door and his voice cuts through the silence. “This is you,” he says, nonchalantly.

“What?” You ask. 

“Your room. This is where you’ll be staying,” he clarifies. He opens the door and allows you to walk in first. He shuts the door behind him, careful not to let it shut too loudly, in an attempt to not overwhelm you more than you already are.

The lavish interior of the mansion extends into the room as well. All things considered, your living situation is far from terrible. The room is nice and spacious, with high-quality furniture and a large bed to match. It seems you even have your own bathroom, making sharing one with the league a thing of the past. You wander further inside, running your fingers along the pieces of furniture as you pass by until you mindlessly find your way to the bed. The events of the day are catching up to you, and you can’t help but want to just take a moment to rest. You sit down on the bed, testing the softness of the mattress. A sliver of optimism creeps into your mind. At least you’ll be sleeping in a much more comfortable place than before. 

“Not too bad, am I right?” Dabi asks you. You silently nod, feeling too devoid of energy to say much more. 

You lay back fully on the bed and kick off your shoes, haphazardly discarding them on the floor next to the bed. Silence creeps into the room, but despite the awkward lapse in conversation, you can’t find it in you to care. The feelings are racing back to the surface, much to your dismay. You stare at the ceiling as you border on breaking down again. The half-assed facade is already cracking, and with each passing thought, the mask begins to shatter, piece by piece, along with your will to fight. 

“So what’s going on with you? You’re too quiet,” he finally confronts. Dabi leans on the wall and crosses his arms, confronting you with a stern expression. 

“What are you talking about?” You deflect. Your voice gives you away. You sound unlike yourself, as if you’re devoid of life. Robbed of your hope. 

“You can’t fool me, y/n. I know you were crying back there,” he —. Dabi won’t buy into your lies. Besides the fact he can read you all too well, he’s a villain. In his time with the underground of society, he’s seen far more convincing liars than you. “What was it? What happened?”

“I-“ you attempt to strangle out. The words escape you, cut off by an impending crack in your voice. You close your mouth and give up on trying to speak. Your cheek feels like it could bleed when you bite down on it, distracting yourself from the burning you feel in your eyes. 

“Go on,” he urges. He has an inkling as to why you were upset, but he wants to hear you say it. 

You let out a shaky breath in a pitiful attempt to stifle the oncoming tears. Your valiant effort fails. The tears start rolling down your cheek once more, now completely on display for him to see. He can’t help but feel a bit unsure of himself in this moment, seeing you falling apart in front of him. Even as a child and before becoming Dabi, handling emotions was never a strength of his, a weakness now worsened by his closed-off tendencies and diminished empathy response. His inability to cool down from overwhelming, heated emotions is his fatal weakness, and in this moment, this flaw of his becomes painfully obvious. He can hardly help himself sometimes, let alone someone else. What is he even supposed to do for you? 

If his unfamiliarity with comforting others isn’t bad enough, he doesn’t even know what’s wrong. But, if it’s what he suspects, he can’t solve your issues by burning them away, like he always had with his own problems. He thinks about his brother and how his little brother, in the absence of other solutions, would show him support by just being a shoulder to cry on. Thinking of his brother brings back the many nights he spent clinging to Natsuo. It never erased his pain nor did it treat the root cause, but for a short time, even just for the night, he remembers how it felt like someone was shouldering some of his burdens.

He doesn’t want to be known for sappy shit, but he’s made up his mind. He’ll be a shoulder to cry on, but only for you.

He kicks his shoes off, something you don’t notice as you’re too busy burying your face in the pillows, muffling the world with the thick, downy plush. He makes his way over to you, walking along the other side of the bed. You feel the bed dip next to you, the movement finally gaining your attention. You lift your head from out of the pillows and turn to the source, finding Dabi casually laying on the bed next to you. 

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arms and motioning for you to come closer. You’re a bit taken aback by Dabi’s invitation for affection. It’s a bit jarring to see Dabi attempting to initiate something like this, especially given the circumstance. Yes, he did hug you that one time, but that was more of a gesture for him. That embrace was sudden and out of the blue, this is something you’re given the choice to do. This is him attempting to comfort you, you realize. 

Before, you’d deliberate back and forth in your head about what it would mean to willingly seek out his touch. But now? His arms seem safe and inviting, the perfect respite from the dark world that you’ve been sucked into once again. And so, you move over to him and rest your head on his chest. His warm arms wrap around your body as you settle in. He tucks his chin over the top of your head.

The moment feels so soft and comforting that you find yourself wanting to cry once again, your sobs now bittersweet. You never expected Dabi, the league’s most closed off person, to be someone you found solace in. The two of you seemed to connect over your captivity, and as much as you tried to deny it, that magnetism you feel towards one another cannot be rationalized away. You want to stop fighting it, you want to give into your feelings. And you think you will, now. After all, do you really have anything left other than him? 

The realization that he’s all that you have left anymore sends a particularly heavy sob through your body. You bury your face further into Dabi’s shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms has his heart twisting and guilt creeping in his mind.

He should let you go. 

He should give you back to your old life. 

He should allow you to move on. 

He should let you forget about him. 

But he can’t, and he won’t. 

Besides the fact that Shigaraki would be pissed at his disobedience and betrayal, he wants you around. No, he needs you close by. With you gone, his burns started to spread again. He was becoming closer and closer to burning himself up with every fight he endured. Not only that, but his chest seemed to ache when you weren’t around, and he found himself wanting to hear you bark back snarky comments and feel your hands roam over his skin. The longing for you was so distracting, borderline frustrating too. You were just always there, in the back of his mind, taking up space he normally reserved for simmering contempt. His thoughts were haunted by the ghost of you. He felt followed by the memory of your presence wherever he went. Even when he wasn’t awake, you were there, creeping into his dreams. With you here now, he understands, losing you is not something he wants to experience again. 

And so, the most he can do for you is not leave you alone and try to console you, in any way he can.

“‘S alright. ‘M here,” he soothes. Hearing Dabi trying to comfort you, especially when you know how Dabi isn’t the type to do that for just anybody, causes your lip to tremble. His thumb traces lines against the skin of your arms as he continues to hold onto you. 

You’re not quite sure how much time passes as you cling to Dabi and let yourself softly weep against his chest. The light filtering in through the window of your bedroom has dimmed considerably, letting you know that the night is quickly approaching. But with the sun setting and the night creeping closer comes the fear of being completely alone with your own despair. 

With considerable trepidation, you break the silence and whisper, “I know it’s getting late but… Can you stay a bit longer? I’m sorry I just… don’t really want to be alone right now.” You expect him to let you down, to say that he can’t and start to get up and leave you to the isolation of the night, but yet, he makes no attempts to rise out of your bed. Instead, he embraces you tighter. In a rare moment of softness from him, he presses a kiss to the top of your head as he soothingly runs his hands over your arms. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay as long as you need me to, doll,” he agrees. You feel immense relief at his words, but the gratitude you feel to him makes you even that much more emotional. A tense, shaky exhale escapes your lips and a few more rogue tears break past your lashline. 

Time seems to slow as you continue to wordlessly lie with Dabi and take all the comforting touches he gives you. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day catches up to you, and you fall asleep with his warm body next to you and his fingers soothingly tracing your skin.

Tags: @the-milk-anon ,@dabis-nipple-rings

[glowstone23b]

warden/ancient city thoughts …

Anicent cities aren’t actually cities, they’re actually massive temples instead that devoted themselves to a certain god (im not sure what god the old builders would worship akandk)

They laid many people to rest in those underground crypts, that a bit of their souls leaked out of the bodies and infected the glowing cave vines, resulting in a strange mutation of sculk

and as more people died and got places in those tombs,,, the more sculk spread

Eventually some worshippers caught notice of this and assumed it to be some gift from the gods, so they continued to add fuel to it, experimenting with it, etc, finding out that when a creature dies— instead of the soul ascending to an afterlife, it is instead pulled down by the sculk and merged into what was like a sentient hivemind of connected souls working together to become something akin to an organism

At some point, as evolution of the sculk furthered and sculk sensors formed, it eventually led to a sculk shrieker

and after worshippers activated it a couple times in a row,

It summoned the massive, blind hulking beast known as the warden. It harvested as many souls as it could from the worshippers as it chased after them, leaving no one in it’s wake, before retreating back into the biomass until the next time there is a significant amount of soul that alerts the shriekers once more

Ok mini rant story thing over. i like to think that sculk works in a weird sort of method

Catalyst farm and form the extra sculk needed to begin an infection —> sensors pick up on sounds made by noises that supposedly could be creatures with a soul —> shriekers sound a scream that helps determine if a warden should form —> warden harvests any nearby creatures to help the sculk spread. if killed, the warden drops a catalyst, so it can all begin again

The warden itself is a weird amalgamation of human souls stuck together fused with the sculk. the main reasoning for it being blind (other than cave animals usually being blind since low to zero light requires little need for eyes) is because detecting sound means a very high chance of something w soul

Sculk sickness …. Possibly a rare disease only picked up by deep miners. nasty no good and probably hurts as the sculk eats you from the inside out

Illagers came across the ancient cities and set up camp for a short amount of time to try and study the sculk . you can imagine what happened to them

[ i like to think every ‘living’ creature in minecraft has a soul. that keeps them alive and thinking and breathing and stuff. and undead mobs have soul residue which leaves them with very basic instincts or things they subconsciously remember how to do ITS A FUN THOUGHT ]

[ in my little au illagers love experimenting w souls . because the more you experiment the more messed up results you get (vexes being the fused collective of 2-3 allays, or creating abominations via sticking two different mob souls together… possibly how ravagers came to be since they look a bit like villagers that got turned into beasts . fun theorizing ]

Hey invention? Phanon? I love your mind, it's wonderful. Have a drawing!

I've never drawn a warden before, mostly because it's been very daunting, but I think I got it out the way I wanted it to!! Sculk itself is kind of like... a fungus-y tentacle-y mixture, and i got some inspiration from the devil's fingers fungus irl! Really cool, I suggest giving it a look-see.

In my head, sculk would start off kind of like little eggs or pips or... whatever those things are... there's a name for it, when a plant or a cell decides to split off to make a new plant or cell? Mitosis? Bulbs? Plantlets? There's a word I'm looking for. Anyways. They'd probably grow mini sculk bits off of more mature ones so they can drop off and spread on their own, kind of like some types of succulent if that makes sense? Which explains the little sticky-outy bits on the wardens' horn things. Man, there's gotta be proper terminology for this, my brain is not finding the right words today.

They'd release some sort of bioluminescence when disturbed, and have an almost tar-like substance produced to trap smaller mobs (spiders, bats, etc.) that happen to wander too close, akin to fly traps. It wouldn't work as well for humans, but it's not uncommon to have your foot tugged on by some sculk in the hopes it can digest you.

I went off "The warden itself is a weird amalgamation of human souls stuck together fused with the sculk" because it's FREAKING COOL, so !!! Yeah!! I've got some of the larger/longer sculk tendrils used as arms and 'fingers' in a sense, though they're not all that precise in use. It just opts to smack the heck out of people usually. The bones in the shoulders and feet I thought were really cool on the in-game design, so I feel that the sculk would grow around any sorts of bones it had access to to keep a more stable structure. Keeping yourself upright if you're a soft mass of plantiness/fungus-yness would be a little tough, I think. Also, keeping bones close to the sculk might make it easier to tether souls together? Who knows!

It'd be neat to see what types of matter the sculk would attach to to form a warden-- it could be enderman bones, for all we know! Big and long and short and stubby, and all of the bones are in the wrong places. Using femurs for toes, or ribs for arms... it'd definitely not be fun to see in person.

Sculk sickness sounds SO NEAT TOO!!! I imagine you might be able to inhale it, like spores? Since it feeds off of xp or souls, you just keep fueling it once you're infected whether you like it or not. Does it have any cure, or would you have to have some sort of surgery to try to remove the existing sculk from your body? That'd cause a heck of a lot of complications, if it were to block anything internally. Wild, but neat to theorize about.

And YES on the experimenting with souls thing! Especially with the update so vexes look a lot more like allays-- definitely experiment material. I wonder how many more mobs are out there that we haven't seen because they haven't been made yet? Just mish mashes of any sort of soul they could get their hands on, inhabiting a body that doesn't feel quite right. Kinda interesting!

Thank you for sharing as always ily you rule. Your theories slap, may your inventory be full of diamonds or something. May the Nether's fire guide your way, idk. More piglin-y, as per my blog, lol.

[shalomniscient]

my home, for all seasons || serval x reader

Love, she had found, was a lot like warmth, after all. And she’s got enough to fill a universe with it, right here with you.

content warnings: none !

wc: 939

It’s snowing again.

It was hardly a surprising sight in Belobog, even as the Eternal Freeze had begun to recede. The lands outside the city’s walls still remained cloaked in a pristine layer of white, decorated with frozen statues of monsters and men alike. And it would be many, many years before the heaters in the streets and homes of Belobog could retire from their duty.

Serval was used to the cold. To the nipping chill that settled in the tips of her fingers, rendering them far too clumsy to strum her guitar properly. It was, if anything, a persistent annoyance. Hence why she had only blearily stared at you when you shook her awake, a sun-bright grin on your face at an hour far too early for her to truly appreciate.

“Serval,” you whispered excitedly, your voice light like first snow. “Serval, it’s snowing.”

Groggily, Serval turned her head to the side, squinted, and sure enough—snowflakes drifted lazily outside the window, turning the morning light a diluted greyish-yellow. Distantly, she could hear the clamour of the waking city bleed through the walls of your shared apartment. “G’morning to you too,” she drawled, moving to roll onto you and bury her face in the warm junction between your shoulder and your neck. Her breath tickled the sensitive skin there and you squirmed, giggling, your hands finding her face to draw her back.

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Serval’s expression morphed into a pout.

“But ‘s cold,” she whined in response.

“We can cuddle after,” you offered, trying to sweeten the deal. Serval’s eyes glittered, brows rising suggestively as her hands found your waist to absently rub small circles into the soft flesh. “Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve even seen snow.”

Serval blinked. Oh.

The last time you would have been able to let yourself enjoy such a mundane activity would have been years ago, before… well. Before the Supreme Guardian had decided the Underworld was a necessary sacrifice in her battle against the Fragmentum, damning you and so many innocent others to a subterranean existence. Your time in the Underworld had not been kind, but everyone Serval had met from the underground city had only lovely things to say about you.

Sometimes, the only thing that kept some of us sane was her music, Seele had admitted once as they sat in Bronya’s office after a long day of meetings and discussions with bone-headed Overworld nobles. Her playing was an excuse for people to sing and dance and forget everything for a while.

There is comfort in music, Serval had agreed, and in her mind’s eye she could almost picture you: the line of your back and the bend of your arm as you held your violin, your eyes shut as you felt the music in your bones, drawing each note straight from your soul and giving it tender voice. Your heart, Serval had come to learn, reflected in your playing, and it made her wonder what your song would have sounded like down in the Underworld. Eventually, she thought that it would have sounded a lot like hope.

“In that case,” she murmured, as her lips flicked upwards in a grin to match yours, “I know the perfect place.”

The ‘perfect place’ in question was actually outside the city, which Serval knew might be a bit of a controversial choice—actually, no, it very much was—but then again, Serval lived and died by rock n’ roll, and there’s nothing more rock n’ roll in spirit than being a little controversial. Plus, it wasn’t too far from the city’s gates, and if anything, Serval could fight. All those years in the hell that was military school weren’t for nothing.

Especially now, as she looked at you under the pale sunlight, your breaths warm puffs of air in the morning chill. Your face was tilted towards the sky, snowflakes catching in your hair like constellations. And oh, that smile on your face—so dazzlingly bright that Serval swore she could go fucking snowblind. It’s the moments like these, just you, her and the crescendo of emotion between the both of you that makes her feel that maybe, just maybe, all that shitty heartbreak and pain was worth it. That all the grief and sadness had finally slid into place in the symphony of her life, discordant notes smoothing into a lovely harmony that led right to you.

Qlipoth above, she wanted to kiss you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, your eyes still affixed to the pale heavens.

“Yeah,” Serval answered, but she’s not looking at the sky. “Sure is.”

As if sensing her stare on you, you turn to face her, your expression curious. “Is there something on my face?”

“Yeah, actually,” Serval replied after a moment, and stepped closer to you, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. A gloved hand rose up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing across the seam of your lips. She leaned in close, close enough that you could feel her breath spill across your cheeks, and right before she pulled you in for a gentle kiss, she whispered, “it’s me.”

Serval greedily swallowed the groan you let out at her admittedly terrible pick-up line, but you didn’t push her away, so she was taking this as an absolute win. In fact, you pulled her closer, your arms winding around her neck until your bodies were pressed flush together, and the cold nipping at her skin was all but forgotten.

Love, she had found, was a lot like warmth, after all. And she’s got enough to fill a universe with it, right here with you.