#Whoops another AU

[skillzissue]

Whoops.

Forgiveness.

Maybe it’s time to live again.

[pencilofawesomeness]

The JJK x TWST crossover that started living rent free in my head >:'D

Random Doodle Edition

Ahem, so, uhh, turns out the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen fit pretty well as Night Raven College students, temperament-wise, and that was all the excuse I needed. Yes the ages get funky but whatever. Happy high school AU except they still get cool powers and Trauma(tm). Just less than JJK canon so I count it as a win.

I also may or may not have written an entire oneshot (here on AO3) for some freshmen Satoru & Suguru bonding, featuring me still bullying Satoru over his funky eyes.

Image Text (and me rambling more) underneath the cut

-

Gojo Satoru (of the Jupiter Clan)

Ignihyde Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Sky Dragon (Fae) Club: Movie Analysis Club Unique Magic: Six Eyes—pretty much just like canon Six Eyes. They can see far and wide and out of normal sight, and they can see magic in a highly detailed manner. They are also powered by magic that just, never stops ever, so he can decrease or increase the power/range at will to a degree, but technically, cutting off magic from them altogether will blind him. Also he has an inherited magic that he by no means asked for, which is, sad drumroll, Gate of the Underworld. (There are no shrouds in this AU, just me finding ways to forever make Satoru instrumental to the well-being of the world to his own detriment. I have waaaaay more thoughts about the "Jupiter Clan of dragons" and what that actually entails, but they are still jumbled and shifting, so. Maybe later.)

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Geto Suguru (of the Draconia Clan)

Diasomnia Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Night Dragon (Fae) Club: Equestrian Club Unique Magic: Magic-eater—can consume and nullify any spell and gain its base magic. With minimum side effects. Mostly. :)

-

Satoru and Suguru are their usual brand of special-grade menaces, being the only two adolescent dragon fae in the world, buttttt they still inevitably become besties. With Shoko too, of course, who has no fear and will mess with them as they see fit.

Suguru is essentially Malleus in this AU, though in Suguru-fashion, he's way more stubborn when it comes to trying to catch up. (Translating him being new to sorcery to being new to technology was surprisingly low-hanging fruit.) Meanwhile I borrowed the Jupiter name/legacy because it was fitting and made the Gojo Clan into a long-lived dynasty of antisocial dragons who fist-fight and deal with Phantoms and recently accidentally became a tech empire, which is pretty close to the Sorcerer Family vibe a la TWST, if I say so myself.

There's definitely a lot of backstory I have in mind for the two of them. Neither of them beat teen parenthood (they are currently Malleus-aged, so 178 years old, but that's still teenagehood for a dragon/fae) and acquired children through various means, much to the consternation of their elders/court. I might develop/write more solid ideas later, but Suguru has a reverse characterization moment when he finds two starved/beaten human children (the twins) and begins his journey of losing all intrinsic racism via love, and Satoru still somehow gets his shit wrecked by Toji (probably a heist gone violent or something) and then finds out he had abandoned children: human Tsumiki and half-fae Megumi.

-

Nobara Orientation Comic:

Nobara: Obviously, I'm going to get ~Pomefiore~ because I'm elegant and graceful. (And a badass queen, of course)

Mirror: The nature of your soul is... Savanaclaw

Nobara, getting dragged away from the Mirror by Maki: HEY WAIT A MINUTE! STOP MESSING WITH ME YOU DIRTY SMUGED HUNK OF JUNK AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT I THINK OF—

(Nobara gets her reverse-Epel moment, but she adapts quickly. Especially because she still comes to have mad respect for Maki.)

-

Ieri Shoko

Ignihyde Vice-Housewarden Year: Junior Species: Merfolk (Nurse Shark) Club: Science Club Unique Magic: Reverse—rewinds a target to its previous state within twenty four hours. The longer within the range, the harder/more magic it will take, especially for larger targets, so realistically her range is less. (For example, if someone cracked a piece of glass 24 hours ago, Shoko could restore it, but a day-old wound on a living being would be much harder.)

Making Shoko a mermaid was a joke to myself at first but then I liked it and it spiraled and now Nurse Shark Shoko is unironically one of my favorite things that I have drawn. The joke was right there too, but it's mostly fun to me because nurse sharks are docile and apathetic creatures, for the large part (they are still sharks lol), and I think match her temperament well.

Also when Satoru pestered the previous housewarden enough times to accidentally gain the title for himself, he made Shoko his vice (mostly because he trusted her) to make sure he never had to do the paperwork and the boring parts. She makes him do it anyway. To the dorm, she is less of a vice and more of a "dragon wrangler," which is still extremely appreciated.

-

Zen'in Maki

Savanaclaw Housewarden Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Track & Field Unique Magic: N/A—Maki doesn't actually have magic of her own, but she is unnaturally resistant to most magic. She can, however, use magic/cast spells through a magic-capable familiar.

She befriended a phoenix when she was younger, having survived an encounter with a wild youth. (idk what I want the details to be but I think it would be cool if she had some related burns to it, with the idea that these creatures are rare and volatile and hard for normal humans to handle without high magic resistance.) His name is Torch because I don't think Maki would put that much thought into a name, so long as its not completely stupid sounding. I almost named the phoenix Jogo but I refrained for my own sanity.

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Inumaki Toge

Savanaclaw Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Board Game Club Unique Magic: Reality Speak—pretty much just how Cursed Speech works but with a world-friendly name. Also it can apply to inanimate objects as well. The power and scope of the command is proportional to the magic required.

Toge gets an overall nicer time in this AU because he doesn't have cursed speech 24/7 and therefore can speak normally. Though the idea of him being able to affect people/bend reality with his words does freak people out. I imagine he had a rough childhood nonetheless, because why not, leading him to be less verbal than he would have been otherwise.

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Okkotsu Yuuta

Diasomnia Year: Sophomore Species: Human Club: Board Game Club Unique Magic: Wraith Pact-maker—he can enhance/bolster a ghost's magic/presence through making a link with himself. It has to be mutual, and it can last for any duration of time, although actively using the link does require magic. The ghost in question gains magic and grounding from Yuuta, and Yuuta can use the ghost's magic, including their UM, if applicable. He can have multiple links, but the first and main recipient of this magic is his childhood friend Rika.

Between her longlasting connection with Yuuta and her brutal death, she is a more wraith-like and powerful ghost. Her unique magic was to copy other people's UMs, which Yuuta can use through her in short bursts.

-

I didn't have space nor solid ideas for unique magics for the Hasaba twins and the Fushiguros, so I didn't do full bios for them. Later, perhaps. All of the girls are sophomores and Megumi is a freshman. Tsumiki and Nanako are sharing their social brain cell and trading stories of stupid things their dragon dads/older brothers/untitled guardians have done, while Megumi is helping budding-gamer Mimiko learn Pokemon strats. I love the idea of them all being friends, maybe after minimal difficulty in the girls' first year, likely on account of the twins being a little Sebek-shaped, in terms of wanting to be The Best Guards for Suguru, etc etc.

-

I technically have way more ideas for other characters and other dorms, but, I will end this here, for now. I am trying to reign myself in lmao.

[rozugold]

Deleted scenes time!!! He made them pancakes. Presumably really bad pancakes since they don’t have any eggs.

[toastedclownery]

Tri I have a feeling we're not in Dust anymore

[rayar32]

I know I don't go here for a while but have you considered Zeon!Suletta and her unholy Kshatriya Silver Bullet?

because I have so here's some funny Sleeves Suletta committing funnel murder

[a-little-buggy]

"Amore mio, we cannot keep doing this." Ezio paced across the wooden floor, running his hand through his hair. It was entirely dark out, and the room was lit by a single candle on the table. "You were gone two full days! I practically turned this city upside-down looking for you!"

"How was I supposed to know I was still seeing things!? I genuinely thought it would wear off before now!" Desmond was sitting in a common room chair; the dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by his washed out complexion. He had just come from a bath, otherwise he would still be coated in sweat and hay. "I thought after a few weeks everything would just go back to normal! Well. . ." Desmond gestured around at the Renaissance assassin's guild hall. "Normal being relative, and all."

Ezio pulled a chair over by Desmond and sat down, picking at the stray straws of hay still glued to Desmond's skin. "I know that you are just trying to keep active, but please. If I get another report of you passing out in an alley, or landing in the river, I swear to Christo I will go gray." He stopped and cupped his hands around Desmond's face. "Don't do this to me, Desmond. I'm too young for gray hair."

"Oh don't worry, it'll be just as popular with the chicks as ever." Desmond gave a *swish* of his imaginary long locks, but the motion made his head spin. He braced his arms against the table. "Though I personally have less interest in the grandpa-type."

"Molto bene, that means you should have a personal investment in not causing me any more stress!"

"You think it's stressful for you? You're not the one running an imaginary Boston Marathon every other weekday!" Desmond scoffed, and laid his head down on the table in such a way as to still be able to give Ezio the stink eye.

"You know that isn't how I meant it. I just wish I could convince you to stay safe." Ezio rocked his chair back, and set his heels on the corner of the table. "At the very least, until we have some kind of answer as to when these episodes occur, or why."

Desmond gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "What if we never get any such answer? What little I know about bleeds is that I originally got them from using the Animus. Except now, I've somehow traveled back through time, so who even knows what kind of effects that could cause."

Ezio pressed a finger to his forehead. "Wait a moment. What is the Animus?"

"Seriously? It's the device that showed me your memories. We talked about this a few days ago."

Ezio removed his feet from the table and sat upright, eyeing Desmond suspiciously. "And when was this again, exactly?"

"Why? I. . . I guess it was four days ago, now, so Thursday? I remember it was raining."

Ezio bit his lip and grimaced, then giving a deep exhale placed a gentle hand on Desmond's leg. "I had a contract in Forlì that day."

"No, no. You're kidding." Desmond pushed off of the table and sank down into the wooden chair, as if it could absorb the impact of this new revelation for him. Ezio couldn't have imagined Desmond getting any paler, but he had. "No. No no no no no Ezio I -"

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright, I just need you to breathe." Desmond was badly shaken by this point, and his legs had given out, leaving him sinking to the floor. Ezio grabbed hold of his shoulders, trying to ease his downward descent.

Desmond's voice cracked. "No, no, it's not alright!" He grabbed Ezio back, desperate for some kind of tether. "How can you stand there and tell me it's alright, just after telling me that you may not even be here!?!?"

"I am here, though. I'm here." Ezio wrapped his arms tightly around Desmond, holding him as close as he possibly could. What else could he do? "Just try to breathe."

And so the two sat there, as the candle burned down to a stump. Slowly, Desmond's shaking turned to shuddered breathing, which turned to deep breaths.

Ezio rubbed Desmond's shoulders. "It may not be much longer until daybreak. Do you think you are ready to try for some sleep?"

Desmond slumped forward, burying his face in Ezio's chest. "Honestly? I think I'm too exhausted to make it to bed. Here seems fine."

Ezio chuckled. "For you, perhaps, but I am a creature of comfort." With one of his arms still wrapped around Desmond's back, he slid the other one under Desmond's knees and stood up, carrying him off towards the bunks.

Desmond wrapped his arms around Ezio's neck. "My hero," he sleepily crooned.

"Don't sing my praises just yet, amò." Ezio shifted Desmond's weight, fumbling to turn the doorknob. "I may expect you to return the favor one day."

"What?!" Desmond gasped, playing up the dramatics. " 's not fair, you're much bigger than I am!"

"Is that meant as a compliment or an insult?"

"I dunno yet." Desmond yawned. "I'll decide later, when I need one or the other."

Soon enough, they both had clambered into bed, and were able to get some much needed sleep.

-----

Desmond spent the next few days occupying himself in the base. Besides helping sort through the dispatching of contracts, he got caught them caught up on some long overdue weapons orders and offered advice to whatever young assasin might come knocking. This was his favorite task. It was a reminder of a simpler time, of when he could stand behind a bar and just chat with people about whatever was ailing them. Except this was a little more murder-y. But having been a bartender in New York, it was not so much more murder-y as one might think.

But all the same, he was beginning to feel cooped up. And so he went to seek audience with the Mentorè, about perhaps being allowed on a group mission of some form.

There were two novices already in Ezio's office, a boy and a girl. They were likely discussing the details of an upcoming contract. Having already opened the door, Desmond knocked on the doorframe. Ezio waved him in.

"What can I do for you, Desmond?" Ezio propped his elbows up on the desk and clasped his hands, resting his chin on top of them.

"Oh, it can wait. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Desmond glanced over at the novices, who in fairness, seemed unperturbed.

"So can this. Please, continue." Ezio leaned back in the chair, and the two young assassins stepped to the side.

Desmond cleared his throat. "With your permission, Mentorè," On this word he did a slight bow. Ezio rolled his eyes. "I would wish to be sent on a mission. As part of a group, of course," He hastened to add. "It's just. . . I don't do well feeling confined. And I'm about ready to go stir-crazy in here."

One of the novices smirked. "Is that different from the regular crazy somehow?" He asked. Desmond gave a dry, mocking laugh in response, but then turned back to Ezio and. . . Oh shit.

Desmond always knew that Ezio Auditore da Firenze was a dangerous man. He knew of all his great conquests, and had seen the fear in the eyes of his enemies. And yet somehow, to see the master assassin here and brimming with fury, it felt like the first time he really understood how terrifying such a man could be.

The other novice slapped the first upside the head, and then grabbed him by the wrist. "Thank you for the advice, Mentorè. We will send word as soon as we complete our task," She said, dragging him out the door, which closed firmly behind them.

Ezio took a deep breath, and settled back into his seat.

Desmond shuffled his feet. "Hey, so umm, you wouldn't have actually murdered that kid, right?"

"Fortunately, we will not have to find out." Ezio shot what he assumed was a comforting smile up at Desmond (it wasn't) and then rifled through some papers on his desk. "I actually have a mission that should suit you just fine. It should be straightforward, a matter of some scouting and interrogating a handful of people. There will be two others with you, and you will cover a fair bit of ground. Benè?" Ezio handed over a map with a few directions and way points marked on it.

Desmond nodded. "Yeah, benè. Thank you, Ezio."

"You're welcome. You leave in an hour. And Desmond," He continued, once Desmond had turned to leave. "I know you are highly skilled, but do still be careful."

"I will." Desmond walked back over to Ezio, then kissed him on the cheek and winked. "I promise."

Ezio kicked his boots up on the desk. "Oh, you are such a flirt."

"Well, I come by it honestly." And with that, Desmond left to make preparations.

-----

Desmond was sitting atop a window dormer, watching the surrounding area as another assassin prepared to 'talk to' a gang member in the alleyway below. A third assassin was perched on another neighboring rooftop, similarly spying for any potential complications. This was the method they had all decided on, and it had been working quite well. One person would go to meet the target, and the other two would remain above: out of sight so as to not cause any alarm, but close enough to drop into the fray should anything go awry. This was the last one on their list, and then they could all go back and herald their mission as a success.

He scanned the skyline. Besides the other assassin (whose name he had learned was Achille), there was no one visible up here. He peered down into the street. Piera (visible in blue) had just cornered in on the gang member (visible in gold). One or two of their targets had been willing to part with their information before it came to blows, but such instances were few and far between. Piera gave a quick display of her hidden blade, just to make her intentions and alliances clear.

As was typical, the conversation started with an exchange of thinly-veiled threats. "Next will come the unveiled threats, and then the diet violence," Desmond mused to himself.

The target started shouting. Desmond thought he heard another voice. He scanned the rooftops again, and this time saw a pair of guards off in the distance behind him. He looked back at Achille, who did not seem to react. "This again," Desmond muttered under his breath. He shifted to the right, and the guards were gone from his line of sight. "Please let that fix it." He turned back to watching the alley.

"You belong down in the street with the rest of the filth!" The voice was still distant, but it was definitely louder this time.

Desmond sighed. He turned to look behind himself, and saw the two guards from before making their way over, and a third guard climbing up behind them. "Just ignore them, and they'll go away," He said to himself. He turned back to the alleyway.

"Get down off this roof, or I will throw you off myself!"

Desmond scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. I think I'm finished throwing myself off of rooftops because of figments of my twisted imagination."

He heard another shout. This one wasn't from the target, or the illusory guard, but from Achille. "Desmond, look out!"

Desmond spun around, but not quickly enough, because a boot impacted him squarely in the chest, and he fell from the roof.

He desperately reached out, trying to grab hold of something to hang from. His right hand caught the wooden paneling of the window he was sitting above, but the wooden beam was brittle and snapped off, splintering under his fingernails. He yelled, and was unable to grab hold anywhere else.

Desmond's ankle rolled as he hit the ground, and he fell prone. The guard peered from the rooftop above, and apparently for the first time put together the implications of there being three hooded figures together. "Assassinos! Get them!" Well, so much for subtlety.

Piera ran over to help Desmond to his feet, and the gang member bolted. Desmond shook his head, and pulled himself up. "Don't worry about me, I can handle a few guards. Don't let the target get away!" He turned to face the building he had fallen from. The guards were already descending. He shifted his weight, and winced. Running's not an option. He readied his blade.

Desmond lunged at the first guard to get his boots on the ground. He hadn't yet pulled his sword, so Desmond easily grabbed hold of him, sliding the hidden blade between his ribs. Unfortunately, the next two landed with their swords already drawn, and Desmond could hear more footsteps fast approaching. "Shit, how many of you are there?"

He heard a shriek from above, and looked up just in time to dodge a guard falling from the rooftop, an arrow lodged in his chest. He landed with a dull, wet thud. Desmond spared a glance up towards Achille, who was already nocking another arrow. "Oh, this should be a peace of cake, then."

Desmond crossed blades with the two guards closest to him, parrying and deflecting their attacks. One of them leaped forward with an arcing swing of their sword. Desmond dodged under and to the side of the swing, then came around behind the off-balance guard, slitting his throat.

Another shriek, another thud. Desmond easily dispatched his next opponent, sweeping him off his feet and then skewering him where he fell. But the next guards approached together, and Desmond had to shift his focus to defense again.

Shriek, thud. One of the guards tried to bring his sword down on Desmond's head, who used both blades to intersect it. In the sword's reflection, Desmond saw another guard coming from behind him. "I've got you now, assassino!" Desmond shoved his current attacker off and spun around, swinging his blade in a wide arc. But as soon as his blade hit the guard's chest, he disappeared into mid-air.

Desmond growled. "Are yOU KIDDING ME!?!?!"

Shriek, thud.

A low chuckle from one of the guardsmen. "Jumping at shadows, boy? Ready for someone to put you out of your misery?" Desmond turned on his heel and lunged for the unlucky dastard's face, plunging both of the hidden blades deep into his eyesockets.

What few guards remained turned tail and ran.

Shriek, thud. Desmond turned once again to Achille, who was now clambering down the building, bow in hand. "They were already running, y'know."

Achille landed on the street, and shrugged. "They picked the fight. The least they could do is have the decency to see it through."

Desmond chuckled, then rubbed his shoulder. "Well, whether Piera caught the target or not, by now, she'll be heading back to base. We should be, too." He looked down at his swelling ankle. "No crazy parkour shit though."

-----

Ezio was pacing back and forth across the wooden floor, combing his hand through his hair. Piera had gotten back with her report on the mission two hours ago. He had already sent ten otherwise idle assassins out searching for Desmond, and he was deliberating about sending more.

"He has returned!" Came a voice from the door.

Ezio raced to the door. His stomach lurched when he saw Desmond, covered in blood and limping, except. . . He was also smiling? There he was, covered head-to-toe in blood, and grinning ear-to-ear!

"Desmond? Are you. . ." He looked Desmond up and down. Bloody. Beaming. "Did you hit your head?"

"Ezio!" Desmond threw his arms up wide, flinging blood on the assassins unfortunate enough to be standing near him. "No, I'm just fine! Well, I wrecked my ankle, but not nearly so much as I wrecked all of the guards!"

Ezio laughed. "So, you determined that what you needed was catharsis, and that any guard would suffice?"

"Well no, actually," Desmond responded a bit sheepishly. "I let them get the drop on me, believing they weren't real."

Ezio very abruptly stopped laughing. "You WHAT -"

"Can we discuss it later? I know it's a problem, but I'm currently riding a high, and I would like to enjoy it."

Ezio started to object, but instead wrapped an arm over Desmond's shoulders. "Later then." He lifted his arm, and stared in horror at the gloopy mess now dripping from it. "Dio mio, someone needs to give you a bath."

Desmond smirked. "Are you volunteering?"

-----

I don't ever think of myself as a creative person, so I am ABSOLUTELY blaming @sulfies that I have done this again, lol. I hope you enjoyed though! Much less bleed effect whump this time around, and much less re-reading to check that it makes sense, lol. Hyperfixation + insomnia = I wrote another story, but now it's a quarter to six in the morning and I may low-key hate myself tomorrow (today?). Thanks for reading!

[chromatasia]

little au idea i had based on art i saw where the three different clover routes are all in one route (geno clover resets and ends up in the pacifist timeline and neutral route… who knows how they got there)

maybe ill write a fic for it. the title would be “three clovers don’t make a patch” :p

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[chaosfairy18]

Me and @thatoneandlonelyemo2005 had a vision about Bumlets with a manbun and I needed to draw it. Somehow the right was giving our Fantasy/Medieval AU so he turned into a wizard and I love him dearly by the way.

Left is Modern AU where he plays beach-volleyball where all the newsies are at a little holiday cabin thing together just having fun (which is also where the idea stemmed from) It is entirely Mack's fault that he is shirtless, don't come at me /j

Side note: my reference page looked like I was a crazed fangirl

But it was worth it

[0turnthelightsout0]

Stanley and Narrator for a Kirby's Epic Yarn x The Stanley Parable AU (inspired by mandymiii's felt Stanley (on tik tok) )

Kirby's Epic Yarn is my favorite Kirby game and I think a TSP AU for it would be really fun and cute X3 imma have to get good at drawing lineless now...

[currentlyreadingawesomefanfics]

Chapter 9 of Somnolent is going to be mighty interesting…

[skillzissue]

Yo spit balling here but what if there was an AU where peepaw Leo pushed future Mikey, him and Casey jr through the time portal (that Mikey creates in the beginning of the movie) in fear of loosing his brother-

*deep breath*

But bc he pushed them through before Mikey could finish the spell and, well, die, the spell malfunctions and sends them too far back-

*deeper breath*

And instead of Casey jr ending up at the day the foot stole the key, Future Leo, Mikey, AND Casey jr end up at the day the turtles were created-

*deeperer breath*

Of course they don’t know this so when they travel (all injured) to the lair, instead of finding old man Splints with his four hyper active teenage turtle sons, they stumble into the lair to find a young, traumatized Splinter Lou Jitsu carrying a box of four squirming, sleeping, tiny, turtles.

*passes out*

[akito-shinonome-daily]

PLEEEEEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL US ABOUT THE TWEWY AU.... AKITO LOOKS SO FIRE [ba dum tss] AND I NEED TO KNOW MORE...

➥ OK, doing this in two parts: first part is assuming you know nothing about the world ends with you, second part will go in a reblog and will discuss what i consider au storyline spoilers + actual twewy spoilers. i might pull from the animation a little for imagery and neo for some concepts, but you really only need to have played some form of the original to know what’s going on.

➥ going under the cut in both parts because i am not good at explaining things briefly

what the hell’s a twewy?

twewy takes place in a plane of existence overlapping the world of the living, which is called the underground (UG). you go there after you die and you may enter the Reaper’s Game—a week long contest where you can either win a chance to return to life, or be completely Erased from existence.

each day of the Game you are given a Task you must complete within the allotted time. don’t worry, you won’t forget, it’s magically tattooed on to the palm of your hand as a working timer. and if you fail, you’re Erased. additionally, there is a force called Noise, which are monsters that are trying to kill you. if you die to the Noise (or to a Reaper that’s commanding them) you get Erased. in order to fight back against the Noise, Players of the Game can use Pyschs (basically just a magic attack) from Pins you can find around the UG to fight. for example, Akito is using a fire-based psych in my art from today. and if all this wasn’t challenging enough, you have to pay to get into the Game. the most valuable thing to you will be taken as your Entry Fee. for Neku, the protagonist of the original game, this is his memories.

OK but i’m here for vbs

well, there’s one more rule i didn’t mention: to even use Pyschs and try to fight back, you need a Partner. obviously i went with the Vivids and the Bad Dogs. and not everyone can use every kind of Pin. for this AU i decided to give everybody a general category of Pysches they could use + they can all use telekinesis to varying degrees since that seems to be the most common psych people can use.

character rundowns (i’m just going in in-game order):

Kohane - the thing Kohane valued most was her life, and so her entry fee was her memories. due to her not being part of the vivid street crowd before her death, no one around knows anything about her (she also has her original glasses + long hair appearance in this au). she’s Partners with An, and uses water, light, and healing based Psyches. An takes care of most things early on, but once she gets the hang of the situation, Kohane becomes a force to be reckoned within.

An - what An valued most in her life was her connection to music, and so that was her Entry Fee. she cannot hear, recall, sing, or otherwise make any music while in the UG. she also lost her memory of rad weekend. she’s Partnered with Kohane and uses physical strike, movement, and dark based Psyches. She rushes in to save Kohane from Noise by forming a Pact with her. she and Kohane agree to try singing together if and when they return to life, since they grow so close during their week together.

Akito - just like An, Akito’s entry fee is music. he cannot hear, recall, sing, or make any music and lost his memory of rad weekend. he’s Partners with Toya and primarily use fire and lightning based Pysches, with some physical early on. like in the main story, he is a bit antagonistic towards Kohane and An early on, but they all agree to work together since they have the same goal of getting back to living.

Toya - the Entry Fee i decided on for Toya is a little weird, but ultimately i worked it into the storyline in a way i like. what Toya valued most was the freedom he felt by chasing after his own passions with Akito after breaking away from his father. his Entry Fee therefore was his “freedom.” he lost most of his memories of last year or so of singing with Akito. he still recalls that they were working together, but he doesn’t really have any specifics. additionally it’s very difficult for him to defy someone. like they gave him anxiety about saying no to someone. so like he absolutely can make his own decisions and isn’t forced to do everything anyone else says, but Akito still kinda takes the lead in the beginning like An. Toya primarily uses ice based Pysches, but he also gets really adept at telekinesis and attacks with metal objects than he can throw and manipulate.

uhhhhh other Players in the game include Mita Kotaro (his Partner is an unnamed rando rip) and Arata Tono and Miyata Souma as Partners (Souma doesn’t have the prior car accident, since they’re all dead now anyways)

the pin passing/sync up/whatever you want to call it mechanics from the gameplay are basically just going to be translated to the characters launching coordinated attacks at the same time like in the animation. no special Pin is required either they just have to be coordinated.

so yeah. each day the Players work together to complete the mission before time runs out or they’re Erased by the Noise/a Reaper. when a Task is completed (by the first person) a special Pin with appear as a prize. on the seventh and final day, the Task is to defeat the Game Master—the Reaper who is in charge of managing the game and its challenges for the week. Win, and you win your life back. Lose, and you face Erasure.

[effervescentdragon]

Can I get a continuation or another pirate au of charlos? Please?

a continuation of this :)

Marc accosts him the moment Carlos emerges from below the deck. "You're a fool," Marc hisses at him under his breath. "A complete fool, Carletes, what were you thinking -"

"You know what I was thinking," Carlos replies in an undertone. "The moment that slaver scum told us who he had on his ship, Marc..." he trails off. Marc still looks angry, his face scrunched up, but his eyes have softened. He knows what Carlos was thinking because he is Carlos' closest friend and confidante, his second-in-command, the man - boy, really, for they were both boys back then, when they ran away from home and everything they knew - who followed him into the unknown with nary a second thought.

Marc sighs. "I know, brother. I still think you're a fool, to risk so much for a spoiled boy who does not even remember you." His hand, when he squeezes Carlos' shoulder, feels too heavy. "But you did always love to play the role of the hero, and I suppose there is no reason that would change just because you're a pirate now." He grins wickedly, and Carlos has learned not to trust that expression on Marc' face ever since it led to them being caught stealing honeyed cakes feom the kitchens and quite severely punished for it when they were five and six respectively. "And he is exactly your type - innocent, clueless, and prettier than the day is long."

"You're a pirate too," Carlos mumbles, feeling his ears heat. "And it's not - he's not - fuck." He fumbles with his words, knowing there's no point lying to Marc.

"You were taken with him even back then." Marc laughs softly. "If I remember correctly, you taught him some words in Spanish, and they were mostly -"

"There's no need to reminisce," Carlos interrupts him. "As much as I would love to listen to you berate me over nonsensical things, we have go get ready. We will be meeting our suppliers soon."

Marc's face turns serious in a blink. It is one of the things Carlos appreciates most in his friend; how quick he is in assessing priorities. Besides, this is personal to Marc, too. The people they are meeting are old acquaintances of theirs, and Carlos knows their Captain is someone Marc is personally acquainted with. He has never pried deeper than that, though, assured by Marc's word that it is all under control.

The unease he feels is still bubbling under his skin. This arrangement must bear fruit, or Carlos' crew will find itself in a lot of trouble, and Carlos does not wish to disappoint his men. Aside from that, he is hosting something - no, someone, two someones if he is to be precise - on his ship below the deck.

Charles Leclerc is far too important to be discovered on his ship. He must be protected at all costs, and Carlos will personally make sure of that.

"Will he finally cease his screaming?" Marc asks, a hint of hunor in his voice.

Carlos chuckles and tries to suoress his shiver at the memory of Charles' body too close to his. "Yes," he replies. "He will obey me."

Marc's eyebrows raise up. "Interesting turn of phrase," he remarks, and walks away to make final preparations before their rendesvous, leaving Carlos alone on the deck.

He turns and leans on the railing, letting his gaze roam over the ocean. It has been his home for almost a decade, ever since he escaped the confines of his comfortable, suffocating home and the constraint of his birth circumstances. He does not regret the decision, not in the slightest. However, sometimes when his heart beats too fast before a dangerous task; sometimes when his head hurts from examining every possible treacherous scenario; sometimes when it is only him and the hazardous waves before him; in those moments, Carlos wishes things could have been at least somewhat different. Perhaps then him and Charles could have met under different circumstances.

They did meet under different circumstances once. They were both very young, mere children. Carlos thinks Arthur was still a baby, but their older brother - Lorenzo, Lorenzo was his name - was old enough to be asked to stay and converse with their and Carlos' father both after dinner. Carlos had retreated to thr gardens after a dismissal from his father, and he was just about to sneak out his book from his hiding place, when an accented voice in Italian had asked him "What are you doing?" in a most simultaneously appealing and self-righteous tone.

It was Charles; of course it was him. He wasn't permitted to attend the dinner, being too young, so he'd escaped his babysitter and found the gardens, where he'd been entertaining himself by drawing on the ground with a stick wetted by the water from the fountain. That explanation would come later, though, only after Carlos demanded Charles explain why he was trespassing and Charles got mortally offended. Carlos is glad and amused to note now that not much has changed through the years in the manner in which Charles expressed his indignation. Additionally, what struck Carlos as most peculiar and fascinating in the past and present both was how bright and beautiful Charles' eyes were.

Carlos concedes Marc's assessment of him being a fool when his heart skios a beat as he thinks of his and Charles' conversation below the dec in the jail cell. He cannot stop thinking of the comely way Charles' skin had looked underneath his thin white shirt, or how rosy and flushed his face got when Carlos enroached on his personal space.

Mostly, he cannot stop thinking of the feel of Charles' warm tongue on Carlos' skin.

His finger feels like it's burning. Almost against his will, he raises it up. There is a very small spot of dark red on it. That is Charles' blood. The blood from his broken, full lip, which Carlos had wiped snd Charles' had licked away from Carlos' finger.

Carlos had never wanted to posess anyone more than he'd wanted to posess Charles in that moment, especially when Charles' emerald eyes turned darker. He'd never wanted to wreck anyone more, to destroy Charles for anyone else who dared even look at him, for anyone who wasn't Carlos.

Before he can think on it, he brings his finger to his lips and licks it.

He mnows Charles' taste is not there. He knows he is merely tasting his own sweat. The drop of blood is enough to add a metallic note to the taste. Carlos thinks of having this part of Charles in him as the wind slaps his face mercilessly. He can still see Charles' wide eyes as he asked You think I'm beautiful, oblivious to the fact that Carlos had never seen a creature more beautiful.

"Captain." Marc's serious voice interrupts him. "We are almost there. We see the Ducatus coming into the Port from the East."

The metallic taste is gone from Carlos' mouth. He feels its phantom presence, much like the too-brief touch of Charles' tongue on his skin.

He cannot afford to be distracted.

"Prepeare for boarding," he orders in a tone that offers no space for questions. "We have ammunition to acquire."

Marc nods in understanding. Carlos tears his thoughts away from the beautiful treasure he has underneath his feet and prepares for negotiations.

[skizabaa]

A few more recent magma doodles, featuring a little sneak peak of the sun design for portal au along with some designs from a w.i.p au

[blizzardstarx]

@send-me-a-puffalope @castiels-destiny GIGGLES AND TWIRLS MY HAIR

im bout to shatter everyone’s hearts <3

tw a lot of blood

HEHEHEHHE

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