#a drop of death au

[bluestrawberrybunny]

Made this to serve as the cover for A Drop of Death AU.

Gonna probably make more posts sharing some details about this AU later.

[sunniez-day]

what if light yagami was secretly a furry

so like

light nyagami

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Warning: Depictions of character death

[Image Description: A 4 panel colored Legend of Zelda AU comic  “Linked Spirit”. Panel 1: The Darknut's head is turned to the viewer, one eye and a splash of the dark purple ooze pouring out of the visor space. "HA ha ha I see you now" it says. Panel 2: Hero's Spirit, appearing as breath of the wild Link, looks disturbed and wide eyed. "Malice." Panel 3: The background turns black, and Hero, back in their green tunic, looks up at the Malice's giant yellow eye looming over them. "Killing the Hero again and again clearly doesn't work." It says "You must be destroyed" ('destroyed' is italic and bold). Panel 4: A glowing teal wheel with clipped scenes in each of in the 6 segments, each Link in the segments are colored in the same tunic colors as when Hero is shapeshifted as them. Hero's Spirit is in the center, curled up and clutching their hair. Their face looks fractured and generally featureless. The 1st segment features a hand reaching toward a blue ocarina, with Beast Ganon's hoof in front of it. 2nd segment Rinku is seen from behind a hand hovering over a headstone with the name "Link" in Hylian on it. 3rd Rinku sinking in water, indicated by small bubbles. 4th: Engineer sprawled on the ground, the pan flute in one hand, the Spirit of Healing hovering over him. Maladus's clawed paw beyond him. 5th: Hope hovering over his own body as a spirit 6th: Breath of the Wild Zelda (Bloom) holding onto Glider like within the Final Memory in botw. Under this segment, a ribbon like line turns into a glowing droplet. End ID]

masterpost

smh time travel makes the order of events so confusing sometimes huh?

First- Previous (30) - 31^ - Next (32)

[creatively-cosmic]

The reborn incarnations of the Flames of Disaster, and the Lord of Darkness

[good-beansdraws]

Making a full post for my Fuuta Ballet AU because I actually had more thoughts about it hehe (Ballerina Girl)

+ a version of the au that's more general to the whole cast, with Es as the protag here!

As mentioned in the art, he’s exactly the same as canon except his life now revolves around dance. He’s in a very cliquey company (The Dark Pas de Trois?), surrounded by friends who are very similar-minded. Even though they're not in dance competitions specifically, they're constantly striving for better reviews/reputations than the neighboring companies. Fuuta struggles with stage fright, but doesn't let on to the others -- he just pushes through every time.

They visit a company rehearsing Nutcracker, and one of the snowflake dancers does something problematic backstage. Fuuta blasts him on social media for it, gaining popularity for his own account/dance company. Auditions and things go a bit smoother for them now that they’re internet famous.

There’s a scandal with the dancer playing the demon sorcerer Rothbart in Swan Lake, and Fuuta catches it on film. The video goes viral, once again boosting Fuuta’s popularity and ego. He’s praised as both a hero and talented performer. His friends are also soaring with this newfound fame.

Then, he catches a young background dancer in Sleeping Beauty doing something he deems worthy of a callout. He exposes her all over his social media. Rather than the usual social backlash, the girl is harassed in person. A crowd takes things too far, and an accident results in an injury that ends her career just as it was beginning. She will never dance again.

Facing his suspicious friends (and overcome with his own guilt), Fuuta flees the company. He plans on quitting dance for the rest of his life as well. Instead, he gets a mysterious invitation to the Milgram Dance Academy. He's never heard of them before, and the internet doesn't turn up much on them. Left with few other choices, he shows up for the first lesson.

The first thing that strikes him is it's a boarding school. He must live there and follow their rules in order to attend. They take his phone and restrict outside contact, much to his horror. The school solely focused on the arts -- no competitions, no big shows. There are three major shows they are planning, but Fuuta couldn't find any venues/tickets/advertisements, despite mention of a "global audience". The program is rigorous, and the instructor decides at the end of each semester if their final performance passes or fails.

The only thing more concerning than the sudden restriction of his phone is the strange group of residents he'll be spending his next few years with. His instructor is a mere child, no more than fifteen and very cryptic about their past training. His other classmates range in age and personality. He starts off dancing just as confident as usual, trying to show up the other students and make a strong first impression.

However, he fails the first semester. The grade list is made public to the whole academy, and Fuuta finds himself the subject of watching eyes and condescending whispers. Becoming sensitive to prying stares and audiences, he falls back into his usual stage fright. He endures (emotional) attacks from the passed students, although in his distraction he screws up some cues and gets injured.

Regarding the actual choreography -- as much as I love the classic shows (I mean, just look how cute he is as the nutcracker ;-;) my brain has been going brrrrr picturing ballet adaptations of the mvs... 🎹 / 🎹 / 🎹 / 🎹

[h-didanart]

Attempt 2, ahem

I am gonna give Sun comfort, one way or another, so

Disclaimer- I still haven’t watched any of the episodes, so stuff might be wrong

———

How dare you call yourself brother?

———

The Celestial’s household was within their line of sight.

Bloodmoon felt their eye twitch as they stalked towards the home.

Prior to this they had been practically glued to their phone, nervously waiting for Sol to do anything really. He had sent them an odd and panicked message which they had answered with various texts in rapid succession, none of which went through.

To say they had been worried would’ve been an understatement.

So the second they saw their texts go through and Solar start to type back, they were very relieved, thing that did not last long as Sol explained what had happened.

Him and the Celestial twins had been taken and put in a situation reminiscent to a horror movie, a choice of who lived and who died.

The Moon or That Guy.

And the Sun had the final say.

To them the answer would’ve been simple, but even they realized how truly awful that situation was for the sunny bot, as terrible as he was the Moon was his twin, and as awful as they’d gotten Nexus was his brother.

Still, the results did not shock them. Nexus died.

The details weren’t shared but however it happened they knew it loomed heavily over Sun’s head.

Though even knowing that, they wouldn’t have imagined themselves doing what they were doing right now.

They checked their phone again. Second floor, multiple windows.

Perfect

Bloodmoon turned back to the house, circling it until they spotted a blur of orange in one of the upper windows. They climbed up to the window, knocking gently on the glass as to not startle the room’s inhabitants with their entrance.

Solar turned to them, he would’ve probably had an annoyed or confused expression had they appeared like this any other time, but he just looked at them with exhaustion in his eyes. He unlocked the window, letting them into the house silently, silence they reciprocated as they spotted the yellow figure curled up on the bed.

It was a pathetic sight, the Sun-Man curled up into a ball, sniffling every now and then, clearly having been crying for a while. Something in their gut twisted as they watched him.

They turned to Solar, watching as he too observed the other bot.

“Where the hell is his other?”

They hadn’t meant to say that as harshly as they did, Sol flinched slightly and Sun sniffled more.

“He said he isn’t good with emotions and left to be in his lab”

They stared at Solar. There was anger in his eyes but also resignation, as if this had been an expected reaction.

They tightened their hands into fists, trying to keep their voice somewhat civil.

“What the fuck kind of excuse is that?”

Solar sighed, a hand on his face, and a slight shrug to his shoulders.

They knew Moon was awful, through their various expeditions to the idiot’s channel they had learned that much. But this level of awfulness was astounding.

He had insulted his brother, harmed him, hurt him, and now he was ignoring his clearly unwell state, what, because he didn’t know how to emotion? Such vileness, such cruelty, was one that should never be shown to those you claim to love.

They knew that. Why didn’t he?!

How come they felt more responsible over Sun’s feelings than Sun’s brother— Sun’s twin?!

They glared at the floor.

They had an idea. A terrible, impulsive, stupid, out of the blue, very idiotic idea. But an idea nevertheless.

Because it seemed like no one but Solar would bother to care for Sun. And the feelings in their gut were screaming at them to do something.

So, with care, they picked Sun up, slinging him over their shoulder, and turned to Solar so he could guide them outside.

Solar stared at them. Bloodmoon stared back.

Their intentions seemed to dawn on him soon enough, him looking reluctant but giving them directions in the end.

And so they walked off towards the house’s exit.

“Bloodmoon why are you in our house?”

Shit

They did not turn to face the bot who addressed them, they knew they couldn’t face him so soon.

“Why are you? Weren’t you busy in your lab or something?”

They tried and failed not to snarl. Sun tensed up on their grasp, they tried petting his back to calm him down.

“I forgot some tools, why are you carrying my brother like that?”

They scoffed. Brother. Yeah sure.

“Why do you care? You have the gall to ignore his cries but not him being taken to be treated better?”

Moon growled.

“You are not taking my brother anywhere”

They rolled their eyes.

“We are”

“How about,” Solar interrupted, “I go with them and—“

“No!” Moon yelled, all three of them flinching at his tone.

“I am not letting the serial killer take my brother, not even if you promise to keep them leashed and docile!”

They grumbled to themselves at the other bot’s word usage.

“Just for a few hours?” Solar tried to appease the lunar bot, Bloodmoon slowly inching closer to the stairs.

“Well, it’s not like he’s doing much anyways,” a different voice, Lunar’s, said.

“And why are you on their side?!”

They got closer to the stairs.

“I’m not, but I’m also not against them”

Closer.

“You’re fine with Bloodmoon being around Sun?! When Sun is like that?”

Oh so now you care?!

Let’s keep the sass to ourselves, we can’t fuck this up more

They descended the stairs, trying to walk quietly to the door.

“If there’s a single scratch on him I’ll tear you apart,” the Moon snarled at them.

They scowled, reaching for the door. The urge to scream back at the asshole was great, but they knew better, Sun was still in their arms, and he was probably listening in to this all.

They sighed, mumbling quietly to themselves as they walked out the door, Solar following close behind.

[thunderc1an]

til death do us part

[amarachno]

<this is a part two, part one is linked at the end>

Bruce Wayne was missing something. A major piece of a puzzle, lost, as if it was never there in the first place. it had all started a few weeks ago. He and Robin had a fight that lead to his own son not feeling safe enough to tell him about Sheila Haywood. His son almost flew to Ethiopia. Sheila Haywood was involved with the Joker.

He could have lost his son.

Jason’s flight had been booked for the next day. Almost lost his son, his Robin, his Jason. The beautiful, exuberant, child that he is, almost lost to the Joker. Jason had even told Bruce that he almost hadn’t come to him about this situation at all. He had just said that he had found his birth mother almost went to see her. Jason broke down in his arms and apologized for almost running away.

Bruce was thankful Jason had come forward, but he couldn’t figure out why.

Jason’s history had led him to develop an “I can do it myself” mindset. It was deeply out of character for Jason to come to him about something. Especially during one of their fights.

But he had.

At first, Bruce thought it might’ve been Alfred. Often times to sit in Alfred time in the kitchen, Alfred, baking, and Jason doing his homework. But when he had asked, Alfred denied having a conversation like that. Had denied any knowledge of Jason’s plan. So what happened? Bruce didn’t know, but he would find out..

It’s a shame Bruce hadn’t learned to communicate better. Maybe if he had asked Jason about it, he would have found his answers.

“Say, Master Jason, whatever happened to that nice young man you stopped by with? What was his name, Tim?” Alfred asked, idly drying a plate.

Jason paused, hands frozen where they had been rolling cookie dough into balls. it wasn’t often Jason returned to the manor nowadays, but whenever he did, he always baked with Alfred. “Tim?” Jason repeated.

“He seemed like such a polite young man. What ever did happen to him?” Alfred asked curiously.

Jason furrowed his brows, attempting to remember. “When did you meet him?” Jason resumed rolling dough.

“Hmm. What a shame. You both stopped by before a sleepover at his house. Said you had some research to do?” Alfred replied.

Jason blinked, “Alfred why are you bringing this up? It’s been, like, years.”

“I saw something on the news a while back about the Drake family next door. Something about a plane crash involving the poor lad’s parents. I was wondering where he wound up. There was a ‘for sale’ sign up when I drove into town this morning and it had me thinking.” Alfred explained.

Panic surged through Jason’s chest, most of the time surrounding what had been dubbed ‘The Ethiopia Incident’ had been blocked out of Jason’s mind. He preferred not to think about that emotionally scarring time, sue him! Finding out his mom wasn’t actually his, biologically of course, thinking that he could have a second chance, only to find out that she was working for the Joker? She likely would have turned him over. What would the Joker have done to him? Would Bruce have made it in time to save him? Not exactly a pleasant time to remember.

Like a dam breaking open, memory started trickling through, flashing in front of Jason‘s eyes. A boy somewhere around Jason‘s age, the skate park, the kid’s surprising skill with a computer. The sleepover, where his mother’s work with the joker had been revealed. Going home early to tell Bruce.

“Oh FUCK” Jason gasped out.

“Language, young man!” Alfred admonished, pausing, “I assume you remember now?”

“I should find him Alfred! He lived next door for Fu- Fricks sake! He helped me so shouldn’t I try to help him?”

“Perhaps he would like some cookies, Master Jason. You could stop by after we’ve finished baking them.” Alfred nudged gently.

Jason turned to glance at the cookie dough he had forgotten about, the piece had had been rolling squished into the counter top. He grimaced at the sticky feeling. “You’re right, Alf. I should probably calm down first anyways.”

————————

Part 1⬇️

[hezuart]

Sorry to disturb you but

I still find hilarious that your LN au got an person so butthurt that they're still ranting about it even till this day

The audacity of you to not include THEIR favorite characters on YOUR OWN AU, completely unforgivable.

Jokes aside, take care and keep up your awesome works!

YEAH,,,,,,, yeah,,,,,,,, I'm - it's a big wow for sur,e ...

Something that bugs me is that, they were complaining that the fandom, outside of drawing Mono and Six, only ever draws Mono and Seven and like.... WHERE!!!SHOW ME!!! that's the entire point I made the comic! There was no art of Seven and Mono!!! They're characters who never meet, so no one ever really drew them together back then, at least, not so thoroughly to explore a dynamic with them. Granted Five / Raincoat girl isn't given the same treatment, but that's because she's from the inferior mobile game! And you couldn't get a read on her personality because there was a lack of cutscenes for her!

They're complaining about a fandom making content that isn't catered towards them, and that's just ridiculous!

Anyway, thank you!!! Almost done lining the backgrounds for the next part of the AU.

[inanimationinsanitation]

watching the cobs stream is so weird, cause the bots despite their voices obviously have personalities and their own opinions that shine through even when theyre trying to supress them

and as soon as these quirks get on cobs nerves and he tries to get rid of them they start making excuses of why they cant do that, automatically rebeling against him until he forcefully destroys them

and its funny cause cobs said he stopped giving his creations emotions and they developed them anyways. like how bad are you when you start traumatizing "emotionless" robots

[bluestrawberrybunny]

also, I have this thing in the Eternity au, Where Smg’s have actual names besides their meme guardian titles :3

Smg4 - Luke (He takes that name after the actual Luke dies)

Smg3 - James

Smg2 - Robin

Smg1 - Paul

Smg0 - Noah

So also asking for name suggestions for Smg5 and 6 :33

Ooh!! My friends and I have also talked about this because we’re giving the SMGs fake human names in the Drop of Death AU we’re working on!

So, SMG6’s name is going to be Sawyer, and SMG5 is going to be Francis, or Fran for short.

But a few others were saying to name them after their main inspirations (me and my friend Mikel) but it would be weird since there are also two characters that are LITERALLY us in that AU too. But yeah. Just a few ideas ^^

We kind of tried to keep the first letter the same in the human names too. So any gender neutral name starting with F and masculine name starting with S would work too. I honesty kinda say go ham, but we did decide on using Sawyer and Francis for their names in the Drop of Death AU

[wyvernquill]

Finally some more Dreamling Anastasia AU!

(Obligatory link to the masterpost with all the other posts in this AU - it's also pinned at the top of my blog!)

So, it's been... a while... but I've recently finally got some motivation to write a bit more of this. Apologies to everyone really looking forward to the finale/resolution - I've decided to go all the way back to the start of the story, instead. I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless!

(Tag list: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-kingdom - since it's been a, uh, really long time, please let me know if you're no longer interested in this AU/fandom and don't want to be tagged anymore, I won't mind! On the other hand, if someone else would like to be tagged in future updates, please let me know!)

---

“Sister… it’s me.”

The man on the dilapidated theatre’s stage shrugs a heavy, moth-eaten velvet coat off his narrow shoulders. It crumples into a dark semi-circle around him, releasing a dramatic cloud of dust.

“Dream… of the Endless~”

.

“Ah. Hm.” A somewhat fussy older gentleman in the empty space usually reserved for the audience adjusts the small circular glasses on his nose, grimacing in a polite and distinctly English way - which he has, once, after first coming to this realm and taking this form, spent hours practising in the mirror - while checking a long list in front of him. “Mr… Carter, was it…?”

“Oh, please.” The man on stage flicks back his white-streaked bangs. “Call me Hal.”

“Yes. Of course, Mr. Hal.” The gentleman purses his lips. “That was�� not, er. Not terrible, I suppose. And we’re pleased to note that you appear to have… brought your own cloak.”

“Don’t get used to it. Zelda and Chantal only let me borrow it for the audition.”

“Well, it is a lovely cloak. Only, ah, while Dream of the Endless was known to have quite striking eyes, I do think that, perhaps a little less eyeliner…”

“I could tone it down, I suppose, but I really think the performance would lose something without the makeup.” Hal sighs melodramatically. “I can sing and dance too, if you need it for your… what is this audition for, actually? Play? Music hall show? Ooo, one of those moving pictures?”

“Er.” The gentleman fidgets with his cane, grass-green eyes flickering around the empty theatre. “Well-”

“Thank you, Hal.” The younger man beside him interrupts with a winning smile that only barely covers the boredom and frustration lining a rather ruggedly handsome face. “We’ll let you know.”

“Hm.” Hal, clearly enough of an old hand in the acting business to know a polite “you’re not getting the role, piss off” when he hears one, frowns, and bends down to gather up the borrowed cloak, stalking off towards stage exit right with his head held high, not deigning either of the two men with even one more look.

“...I really do not think this will work, young Robert.” The older man mutters, decisively striking through Hal Carter’s name on his list. It is the last. “None of them look even remotely like him. And the voice-”

“I know, Gil. I know.” The younger man, Hob - only Gilbert is proper and precise enough to call him Robert - rubs at his temples, as if to stave off a headache. “They never manage to get the voice right, do they.”

“Ah, if it were only that…” Gilbert sighs, setting the list down. His eyes are soft and unfocused, seeing far into a past that has long since been razed to the ground. “His Lordship, he… he had a certain air about him, you understand. An otherworldly strangeness. He was the dream-maker, and dream-made, and to look at him was to gaze upon infinity.”

A soft scoff.

“Even if we claim that he has been greatly reduced by being turned into a meagre human - no offence, dear friend - as long as he does not have some spark of endlessness about him, nobody who has ever met him would fall for the ruse. And we are attempting to con his family. I simply cannot see any viable path to success.”

Hob does not respond, for a moment, picking up one of the flyers on their table.

It reads:

.

SEEKING Actor, slender, pale, tall, dark-haired, in the 20-40 age range to play the role of Dream of the Endless (method actors preferred). Generous pay and further benefits await. Auditions each weekday at 6pm at the Old Whickber Street Theatre, Soho. Ask for Hob and Gil.

.

“We’ll find him.” Hob insists. “The perfect pretender. He’s out there, I just know it.”

“We are not the first fools who have attempted a, a caper of this sort.” Gil points out, almost gently. “None of the others ever succeeded.”

“Yes. Well. None of the others managed to find and correctly identify the late Dream’s own pouch of genuine dream-sand on sale at the black market.” Hob shoots back, gesturing at the cord just barely peeking out from under Gil’s collar. (They’ve decided it would be safer if Hob comes into contact with the sand as little as possible, and Gilbert has taken to carrying it as closely to his heart as he can manage.) “It’s hard evidence, Gil, it’s a sign, it’s our chance - and it might just be enough. The trick with a good con is really making it look like you’re giving the mark exactly what they desperately want… and there’s nothing in the world Death of the Endless wants more than to have her brother back.”

.

(She wants it so desperately, in fact, that she’s offering immortality to any sentient being who manages to procure Dream for her.

And, well.

There’s nothing in the world Hob wants more than to live forever…)

.

“Your word in- or, well, kept out of Destiny’s ears, young friend.” Gil sighs, collecting his lists and notes and the remaining flyers, tucking them into his coat and reaching for his cane. “In the meantime, how about we go down to the public house and have a bit of a snifter to wash away the memories of all those atrocious performances, eh, my lad?”

“Best idea you had all day, Gil.” Hob grins, clapping a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Are you buying?”

Gilbert raises one grey brow. “At the risk of provoking a joke regarding my non-human status: in your dreams, Robert.”

Hob laughs; and, together, they step out into the winter night, old snow crunching under their shoes and new flakes beginning to drift, gradually, down from the sky.

.

.

.

It has been a decade since the end of the Endless’ reign.

Ten years since humanity tore Destiny’s book from his hands and burned it.

Ten years since Destruction abandoned his siblings, hiding away in his own, separate exile. 

Ten years since Despair’s first aspect was killed, and another took her place.

Ten years since Delight went mad with grief and became Delirium…

.

And ten years since Dream of the Endless was captured, bound, turned human, and killed.

.

People still whisper about it. Still speculate, trade gossip and hearsay back and forth. Some insist that the Dream King yet lives, hidden away, turned human, just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to return to his siblings.

It’s a lovely legend, Hob supposes. A fitting end and non-end, for the Lord of Stories, to live on in one… but that’s all it is. A pretty tale, which will breathe new life into a myth only for as long as it’s being told. It isn’t true…

…but now, ten years later, Hob and Gil will damn well make it so.

.

.

.

Ten years is also, coincidentally, all that a man a few streets down from the old theatre can remember of his life.

Ten years since he was found, naked and emaciated and bleeding, in a ditch next to some countryside road in East Sussex.

Ten years of fighting his way through a life in poverty, with no family, no friends, no-one to care for him, except perhaps the birds.

Ten years of strange and haunting dreams, blurred faces calling out to him with names he can never remember later but knows are his; ten years of waking every morning with tears on his face and a longing for someplace - and someones - he wishes he could remember; ten years of a woman’s voice begging him night after night to come home to her, to them.

.

Ten years of being much too busy starving and freezing and barely surviving to spare even a single thought to the dying legends of the Endless.

.

This man turns his face up to the sky, snowflakes catching in his dark hair and on his coat like stars glinting in the night; and he shivers, his breath clouding mist-white in the air, curling thin arms around a narrow torso.

(For a moment, just a moment, his eyes glow dark and infinite, a mirror to the night sky and the endless universe beyond.)

And then, he ducks his head down into his scarf, shivers again, and continues on through the snow.

Ten hard years have taught this man better than to waste his time standing about and daydreaming.

[dandymorbs]

Yet another sexy Silco, thank you s2 for his young self with beautiful long hair ~

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

So I finally made a slightly comprehendible list of my most common Lord OCs. Here's my powerful babies.

Lord Selene (Lord Moon. Companion is Luna, his Lunar.) Loves candy and is very socially anxious because his star wiped half his personality and most of his memories in the wipe.

Lord Hypernova (Lord Kill Code. Companion is Void, his Moon.) 30' tall megalith of an animatronic. Is a safe haven for dimension travelers and has a soft spot for versions of his children from other dimensions.

Lord Pulsar (Lord Eclipse. Companions are his Sun, Dawn, and an Eclipse from another world, Magnetar.) Age regresses, becoming quite kind due to Magnetar's influence. Loves cotton candy.

Lord Artemis (Lord Blood Moon. Companion is Telesto, his Moon.) Very kind, very depressed. Still traumatized and depressed from his twin dying in the star going off. Loves all travelers, though his universe is not particularly safe for them at most times with random spatial jolts.

Lord Styx (Lord Harvest Moon. Companion is Nyx, his Eclipse.) A mean son of a bitch at first. Gets better once he realizes Nyx has no memory. He's very sassy and snarky but kind to those who he was close to before the star went off (Lunars and Blood Moons).

Lord Luminous (Lord Lunar. Companions are all of his family; Incandescent [Sun], Phosphorescent [Moon], Fluorescent [Eclipse], Iridescent [Blood Moon], Opalescent [Harvest Moon], and Pearlescent [Kill Code].) An abusive asshole at first but, once confronted with his abuse of his companions, Luminous becomes much kinder and willing to cooperate and try to undo the century of abuse he put them through. Loves spicy food, does the one chip challenge like they're doritos.

Lord Fractal [yep I made a new one again] (Lord Solar. Companion is no-one.) Lord Fractal took in Lunar's star power in a desperate attempt to save Lunar from judgment by the Astral Bodies, which caused the powers to go haywire and wipe the universe. Lord Fractal existed in a small corner of his universe for fifty-three years in a 'paradise' where his family was no longer dead, though it was only an illusion. After those fifty-three years, he realized he was in an illusion of his own making and used his star powers to create a world for him to live on rather than floating in space (though he can't figure out how to recreate his family). Fractal is a very lonely soul simply going through the motions of his old life with his star powers giving him whispers of the life he used to have and illusions of the family he lost when his star power went haywire.

Lord Albedo [yes, yet another one] (Lord Ruin. Companion is his, Astronomy, his Solar.) Albedo became a Lord entirely by accident. When Lunar killed Eclipse 3.0, Ruin was much too close and ended up taking in some of Lunar's star power, thus leading the Astral Bodies to attempt to eliminate Albedo as a potential threat. However, the elimination went wrong, very wrong. When the Astral Bodies attempted to kill Albedo, the star power that Albedo had absorbed continued to absorb the Astral bodies' powers as well until all beings with star power ceased to exist. Because of this attempt on his life, Lord Albedo had a mental breakdown, which unleashed the star power he had absorbed into a destructive wave that wiped the universe of all but Astronomy, who was attempting to calm Albedo down at the time. Albedo has regular panic attacks, which Astronomy usually helps calm him down from. He's very anxious and traumatized, but Astronomy acts as his bodyguard and best friend to help Albedo feel safer and less stressed, since too much stress could potentially cause another wipe of the universe.

[littl3d0ll-art]

Nothing can stop me from making my bear son real

[valeriianz]

so, i HAVE an idea for something 00's romcommy (thanks to @carnelianmeluha and @wordsinhaled) but as i was writing it, i thought to myself, "but they need backstory!" and what was going to be just a few paragraphs of introspection turned into a 3.3k high school AU set in the 90s. so, have this for now. part 2 will be up whenever i feel like it :)

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

“Dream!”

Hob found him in a corner, blending into the shadows and had to laugh as he looked up at the sound of his name. He was wearing black, as usual, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tight jeans.

“So glad to see you here.” Hob said as he approached, looking upon his friend with a little less restraint than he typically allowed. The vodka-spiked punch was hitting him hard.

Dream relaxed a modicum, his shoulders visibly drooping as his chin tilted up.

“I am only here because you invited me.”

Hob’s smile only widened as he leaned forward. 

“Then I’m flattered. Do you want a drink?”

Dream shrugged and Hob laughed again, turning halfway and inclining his head for Dream to follow him.

Hob, despite being in with the more popular kids in his grade, wasn’t the biggest fan of house parties. He knew Dream wasn’t either; moreso, in fact. Dream was more likely to be found spending his Friday nights cooped up in the library, nose stuck in a book.

But tomorrow they were graduating from high school, and Hob’s parents weren’t coming back from their anniversary trip until the morning. Which meant this was Hob’s last chance to throw an epic rager. 

Though Derek Gallagher, the star athlete of their high school’s football team, was also throwing a party tonight, so it was less of a rager going on here, and more of a casual hang sesh. Hob couldn’t complain though. At least he liked the dozen or so people in his parent’s house, and at least cleaning up the next day wouldn’t be impossible. And no one had messed with the volume control for the music yet; 90s hip hop and r&b dripping through the entertainment system. 

Hob nabbed a red solo cup and ladled out the sweet drink into it, passing it along to Dream, who took it with a suspicious look before taking a sip.

Dream immediately blanched.

“Oh. That’s awful.”

Hob laughed again before biting his bottom lip. Dream didn’t seem to mind though, his own little smile peeking through.

“You can dilute it with more juice in the fridge, if you want.”

Throughout the evening, Hob tried to keep his attention on more than just Dream at his side, chatting with his fellow classmates and laughing along to stories and jokes, one last go at clearing up the rumor mill.

And though Dream mostly kept quiet, he did acknowledge those who greeted him, congratulated him on getting into a university in England, how fun it was going to be moving overseas, to which Dream hummed and nodded politely.

Hob was the only one who knew the truth: that Dream’s parents were sending him away. That while Dream had been accepted on an academic scholarship, it was only because his family had set it up for him. Had forced him to apply, had paid for his application and was having him shipped off next month, when Dream would turn 18 and they didn’t have to keep him in their house any longer.

What looked like a privileged situation was actually cruel and heartbreaking. Yes, Dream was going to Oxford. That was insane. Yes, his stupidly wealthy parents were paying for his room and board and what tuition the scholarship didn’t cover. But it was only a drop in the bucket for them. They saw Dream’s future more as a promising investment for when they grew old and needed Dream’s career to take care of them. Not as if they had plenty of money stowed away to keep them afloat during retirement and then some. Or plenty of children, for that matter.

And of course to say they had yet another child in some prestigious university didn’t hurt their reputation either.

Hob managed to derail the subject every time it came up, of where everyone else was going to college. It was inevitable, discussing the future with his classmates, given the timing. But Hob could see Dream sinking more and more into himself as the night went on, holding onto his drink more for his hands to be occupied than anything else.

“I know,’ Johanna announced suddenly, hours bleeding into the late evening. “Let’s liven things up a bit.”

She had several hands help clear a large area in the living room as she procured the empty vodka bottle, shaking it with a drunken twinkle in her eyes.

“Truth or dare, motherfuckers.”

The party, which had been dying down, suddenly turned up again. Everyone refilled their drinks and formed a large circle on the floor. 

Dream plopped down next to Hob, folding his legs and throwing a lazy, tipsy smile at Hob. Who had to take another sip of his drink to keep himself from doing something drastic. Like tell Dream how cute he was right now. 

His coal black hair was a mess, sticking up and curling around his ears from the excessive amount of times Dream had run his hand through it. His boots were off, his sock-clad toes wiggling in anticipation. And his blue eyes seemed to shine, reflecting off the Christmas lights Hob had hung around the house for the party.

The game started and everyone played along, turning up the stakes and performing various wacky scenarios that only teenagers were capable of escalating. Cori licked Alex’s eyeball on a dare, erupting a chorus of screams and gags and Alex furiously rubbing his eyes afterward. On a demand for truth, Rachel confirmed the rumor that she’d fingered Johanna under the bleachers freshman year to an absolute assault of jeers and hooting and hollering, causing the extremely rare sight of Johanna flushing scarlet from her ears down to her neck. 

Naturally the game turned racy after that. Dares to kiss and show off hidden tattoos. Truths to admit who fucked whom and what would you do for such-and-such.

Hob feels himself getting warmer. And not to mention Dream, who remained seated next to him during this entire debauchery, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as the game wore on. Hob could sense him slowly slipping out of the circle, until his knee lightly touched Hob’s hip, instead of where it had been for the better part of half an hour, resting against his thigh.

Hob turned, finding Dream staring down into his empty cup, turning it around and around in his grasp, and had just opened his mouth to comfort him, when Johanna piped up across from him.

“Hob, truth or dare.”

Hob’s head swung forward, eyes falling on the bottle top pointing directly at him. He sniggered softly, taking another peek over at Dream and finding his eyes now on him. Hob gently laid his hand over Dream’s foot, giving it what he hoped was a comforting squeeze before facing Jo again.

Truth be told, Hob was feeling much too invigorated from the alcohol, and he’d been waiting for his time to shine. Hob loved making a spectacle and so let his smile turn into a smirk, meeting Jo���s challenging stare head on.

“Dare.”

A collection of “ooh”s and delighted giggles spread around the circle.

“Good choice, Hobsie.” Her own brown eyes sparkled with mirth. Hob wasn’t sure when Rachel had crawled into her lap, but didn’t let it distract him from her next words. 

“I dare you to…” Jo tilted her chin, tapping it in mock consideration. “Kiss the person the bottle next lands on.”

Oh, easy, Hob thought. About to open his mouth to say so, when Jo spoke up again.

“With tongue.”

“Pfft,” Hob sat up, pushing his chest out. “You’re on.”

He reached forward, licking his lips teasingly as his eyes roamed around the circle of his peers, getting a hand around the bottle and giving it a powerful twirl.

The room went quiet save for a few hushed exchanges and some girls giggling that only made Hob grin flirtatiously. He felt the alcohol in his blood rushing with enough speed to make him dizzy, and the spinning bottle honestly wasn’t helping. But Hob had been patiently waiting his turn all night so watch it he would. 

Soon, all eyes followed the bottle as it began to slow, a hush of anticipation that Hob’s peers had been accustomed to all night falling over the circle once more.

Until the bottle finally stopped, and Hob’s heart along with it.

Because the mouth of the bottle pointed squarely at Dream, sitting right next to him. 

Scattered hollering and clapping filled Hob’s ears as his gaze flicked sideways to his friend, who was staring at the bottle, his posture ramrod straight, his hands no longer fiddling.

Hob swallowed and ignored the jeering and playful jab at his side from Cori, eyes fixated on his friend, his best friend. Who didn’t like going to parties, who only smiled when he meant it, who only complained about his parents stupid and strict rules only if Hob asked, never wanting to appear annoying, or too much, preferring to keep to the shadows.

Dream, who would fold if only Hob gave him his best pout, allowing himself to be tugged along to a concert or arcade with a well timed joke and friendly pestering. Who seemed like such a stick-up-the-ass to everyone except Hob, who only had eyes for him. Hob’s best friend, shy and awkward and a little mean, and so devastatingly handsome it was a wonder Hob hadn’t had the balls to do something about it yet.

It would take something as juvenile as a dare to finally give Hob the excuse to act upon his helpless crush. Though Dream…

Dream hadn’t looked away from the bottle. Bringing his lips in to form a line and. Hob felt his nerves begin to escape from out his ears.

“Hey…” Hob spoke gently, moving his hand to carefully rest on Dream’s knee.

Dream’s gaze snapped to Hob at once, and the look in his eyes made Hob’s stomach drop.

He looked terrified.

Hob’s breath caught in his throat, the air around them suddenly thick with an unidentified tension. 

Cori’s voice popping up over Hob’s shoulder made them both jump.

“C’mon, Morpheus. Hob won’t bite, unless you ask him to!”

Hob sighed loudly, rolling his eyes for the group’s benefit, who eased up with a roll of snickering around them. One time, that happened!

“I–” Dream started, swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob harshly. “I’d rather–”

“Just one kiss, Dream,” Hob heard himself say, a little desperate. A little too drunk. “It’ll be really quick…” He felt himself already leaning in and Dream’s lips parted, sucking in an audible breath.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Jo and Cori started the chant, and everyone around them followed suit, egging Hob and Dream on.

The realistic, rational part of Hob’s brain, which was still muddled by cheap vodka, tried to remind Hob that this was just a game, and Dream didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. He’d even opened his mouth to say so, amongst the drunken, teenage laughter and clapping in time to the chant.

But what he spoke, instead of insisting they didn’t have to kiss, that they could potentially even revisit this, and Hob’s ego wouldn’t be bruised, thank you very much, was a quiet,

“Please?”

Dream’s brows pinched together, he looked truly torn and Hob couldn’t figure out what that meant, especially as the seconds ticked away. Driving Hob crazy, waiting for permission; verbally or even a single head nod. Hob wet his lips and his stomach did an acrobatic leap as he caught Dream’s gaze flick down to catch the motion, his shoulders visibly rising as he took a breath.

“No.”

Hob blinked and Dream was untangling himself from the floor, standing up so fast he wobbled, and stomped out of the room.

The chanting died down at once. Hob felt himself frozen to the carpet in the surrounding silence. 

Somebody politely coughed. Hob’s gaze found Johanna, who only looked back at him in sympathy, her eyebrows tilted up. 

Humiliation and rejection burned in Hob’s chest, crawling up his neck and making his ears hot. 

Cori clicked his tongue and Hob whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Tough luck, buddy.”

“Shut up,” Hob hissed, feeling all the more embarrassed for it. He splayed his hands flat on the floor, pushing himself up without another look at his classmates, and walked towards where Dream had vanished to with shaking limbs.

—------------------------------------

Hob found him quickly enough, going through the laundry room and out the door that led to the back yard.

“Dream?”

Blue eyes, barely visible in the darkness, rose to find Hob as he made his way down the steps, sitting across from Dream, against the railing, putting distance between them.

Dream looked forward again, his eyes set, face unreadable. Hob hated that he was drunk at the moment because he’d otherwise never chuckle sarcastically like he’s doing now. Hiding the pain, perhaps, hoping Dream can’t see how ashamed he’s feeling, how rejection boils in his blood and even looking at Dream right now, twists Hob’s insides.

“What the hell?”

Dream takes a long breath through his nose, pushing his shoulders back. And says nothing.

“It would have just been a stupid kiss,” Hob goes on, unprompted. Words tumbling out of his mouth like vomit. “You’re my friend. Is the thought of kissing me so disgusting you need to run away?”

Hob feels his eyes begin to sting and throws his head back, smiling derisively. He was about to start crying. Great.

Once he’s gotten himself under control, Hob tilts his head down and finds Dream watching him, his own gaze softened, if only minutely.

His lips part, voice low and quiet. “You misunderstand me.”

“Then I’d love it if you’d explain,” Hob sighs roughly. “Because you just made me look like an asshole in there.”

Dream shakes his head, unfolding his arms over his lap and getting long, pale fingers around his knobbly knees instead.

“The world is ending tonight.” Dream starts cryptically, staring at how his fingers pick at the tears in his jeans. “Tomorrow we graduate. I’m going to England and we’ll never see each other again.” He looks sideways at Hob, who’s holding his breath.

“And you’re still worried about how people perceive you?” He takes a breath. “You choose to spend your last hours getting drunk and playing juvenile games? Instead of…” Dream gaze flits back toward the house, swallowing.

Hob scoots over, closer to Dream. Summer is right around the corner but the night air is cool still, clean and pleasantly quiet. And Dream blends into the darkness like he belongs there, the stars in the cloudless sky, how they light up the darkness along with the moon, giving just enough illumination to see by, to marvel at Dream sitting on Hob’s back porch steps. 

Taking in the wonder that is Hob’s closest friend, beautiful, shy, wicked smart Dream. Hob feels calm fall over him like a blanket. Mulling on Dream’s words, and settling on a response.

“What would you rather be doing?”

Dream finds Hob’s gaze again, and Hob lifts his shoulders, prompting Dream further, but he remains silent. Hob takes a breath, speaking again when Dream doesn’t respond.

“If the world is ending anyway…” Hob starts, licking his bottom lip. “Then just say it.”

Agonizing seconds slip by, where Dream stares at Hob, lips slightly parted, eyes widening.

“I want to kiss you.”

Hob’s heart lurches in his chest and he feels the air leave his lungs. Dream’s voice is so quiet, so fragile, it makes Hob ache.

“But not–” Dream inclines his head slightly, toward the house. “Not like that.”

“Oh…” Hob says eloquently, finding himself petrified once again.

There’s a new tension in the silence that falls between them. Waiting, anticipating. Hob takes a steadying breath and feels like he’s jumping off a cliff.

He gets on hand on the floor between them and leans over, his other hand hovering towards Dream. 

“Can I–?”

“Yes.”

Dream meets him halfway, pressing warm, chapped lips to Hob’s, and holding still. 

It’s sweet, and careful, and when Dream exhales from his nose, the warm air hitting Hob, his lips part to take a breath and Hob lunges forward, getting a hand around the side of Dream’s face and pulling him in. Hob sweeps his tongue along the seam of Dream’s lips once before diving past, pulling a surprised gasp from Dream that turns into a soft groan.

Hob’s fingers caress into the soft strands of Dream’s hair as they kiss, elation popping off like fireworks under Hob’s skin as he finally is able to touch his friend like this. Move his lips along Dream’s with drunken coordination and vigor, putting as much affection and want into the kiss as Hob could, hoping Dream could understand. Could feel how long Hob has wanted to do this. And as they move together, bodies naturally closing the distance between them and Dream’s hands finsting into Hob’s shirt before weaving up and around his shoulders, Hob understands why Dream would rather share this privately, without an audience of their peers gawking.

Because this was real. Years of repressed yearning and feelings bubbling up to the surface and tumbling forth in exchanged breaths and needy whines, Hob’s fingers digging a little harder into Dream’s scalp, Dream’s hands, in response, clawing at Hob’s back, pulling him impossibly closer as his body arched like a bow so their chests bumped and Hob could feel the heat of his friend’s body against his own.

Hob tore his mouth away, taking a ragged breath, stealing it from Dream, before going back in, again and again, little lips-only kisses that elicited the prettiest noises from Dream. Especially as Hob’s lips wanders down his chin and up his jaw, causing his friend to cling tighter to Hob, tilting his head to give Hob better access, breathing through his mouth, the hot air hitting Hob’s ear and driving him wild.

“Dream…” Hob finally spoke, his low voice painted in arousal and causing Dream to shake in his arms. He nipped Dream’s ear before licking it. “Why is this all coming out now?”

One of Dream’s hands went up into Hob’s hair, fingers tangling in the brown locks as he huffed his response.

“I could ask the same of you.”

Hob smiles, but it’s sad. He’s slowed down now, gently nudging his nose underneath Dream’s ear before pulling back, facing him once more.

Dream’s eyes flutter open and Hob feels struck down. He’s never seen Dream’s eyes so dark, his blue iris’ nearly all encompassed by the black of his pupils. Hob, unable to resist now, taps his nose to Dreams, taking a breath.

“I was scared.”

He can hear how Dream swallows.

“Me too.”

They sit like that for a long moment, holding on to one another, breathing each other’s air, savoring the revelation that had just transpired. And knowing it wouldn’t last. 

—-------------

They of course saw each other again at graduation, and throughout the days that followed. Hob prepared to move across the state to his chosen college and Dream prepped to leave the country all together.

Hob offered to drive Dream to the airport on moving day, but Dream shook his head, saying it was already too painful that he was leaving, he didn’t want any lingering looks. Instead Dream’s father took a quick detour to Hob’s house, where Dream stood in Hob’s doorway to say goodbye, and in full view of both their families, all they could do was hug. And Hob put his entire body into it, crushing Dream, who had always been so damn thin and gangly, in his arms and nosing his way into Dream’s hair to take one final, deep inhale.

“We’ll see each other again.” Hob promised, in that hopeful way young people did.

Dream only smiled ruefully, his eyes shining and causing a lump to form in Hob’s throat.

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” Hob nodded, getting his hands around Dream’s face and caressing his thumbs under his eyes and across sharp cheekbones. “You think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Dream huffed out a quiet laugh, the blue of his eyes sparkling.