#canon lookalikes

[fictionkinfessions]

for canon lookalikes: i am SO GLAD someone asked, b/c. please imagine how strange it was, being a funky lil urotsuki yume 2kki fictive, growing as a person of my own while still holding onto my fictive identity... experimenting with my clothes, with shorts and overalls and flower-themed stuff, and picking up greens as another favorite color (especially mint greens!), to the point where i thought about dying my hair that color...

and then seeing basil from omori for the first time.

yea anyways if any basils see this. i am metaphorically handing u a soda i got from the vending machine. a gift :D !

=

[bixels]

If you're getting back into a portal kick and want something that has the same vibe while also being fresh and still Portal, I would recommend you check out the Portal 2 mod "Portal Stories: Mel". It's very good and takes place just before the events of Portal 2. You play as one of the athletes Aperture used in the early days who was testing out a cryostasis pod that no one remembered to set an alarm for.

I've played it! It was pretty good, I enjoyed the experience.

[dekubreaksbones]

Post-canon Shigaraki Tomura fic recs

Japan v. Shigaraki (2237) SCOJ No. 4401 by anubisisms

Shigaraki's trial, through social media, newspapers, and texting applications.

The More Things Change by LandofWordsandNonsense (Lieutenant_Nonsense)

Second in a series, and not focused on Shigaraki. Check out the first fic first.

Natshig [Natsuo X Shigaraki]

The Todoroki In-Laws by aphrodaisyacs

Natsuo and Shigaraki match on a dating app, 10 years after Jakku and 7 months after Shigaraki was let out of prison on parole.

Househusband Simulator by aphrodaisyacs

A regular day in the life of Shimura Tenko, Natsuo's househusband.

i'm not tryna be with you, now (but i could be your crush) by constellore

Natsuo flirts with barista Shigaraki to piss off his brother, but manages to get himself a real date.

[shima-draws]

So apparently my brain has decided to get back into Sonic again I say already 27 episodes through rewatching Sonic X. Anyway. I love my kids ESPECIALLY Chris to this day I do not understand why people hate on him so much. He’s baby

[mikurulucky]

How many layers of self insert oc are YOU on?

[starker-sorbet]

Tony and Peter had been friends ever since they had first met at a playground when they were five years old. They’d stuck together through thick and thin; from Peter losing his uncle during a drug store robbery, to when Howard killed himself and Tony’s mom while driving drunk. Nothing had come between them in the decade they had known each other. 

So when Tony found evidence on Obadiah Stane's computer about organizing a hit on him in order to gain control of SI before he could claim his inheritance and start on his plans to leave the weapons business behind, he immediately went to Peter for advice. Tony told him about what had started as a bit of fun to see what embarrassing things his mentor had as his internet history had turned into a shocking betrayal and a horrifying discovery that shook the foundation of everything he knew. But luckily for Tony he had Peter to anchor him and it wasn’t long before they had a plan of action figured out. It meant that they needed to get Ned and MJ involved but the pair were more than happy to help when they saw what Stane was planning. The man had gone to all the trouble of organizing a plan to kill Tony so MJ suggested why not use that same plan against him. It would just be a waste otherwise.

It wasn’t until three years later that they finally had the means to protect each other and to possibly provide the means to exert their control over others to avoid another Stane, extremis.

And with Tony’s new iron armors that he and Peter created for themselves (as well as plans of armors for Ned and MJ if they ever wanted them but that was it, no one else could be trusted) they could truly protect each other from a world that seemed so intent on harming them. Just in time it seemed, with the annoyance that was SHIELD raising its head once more with a new ‘superhero’ team being sent out to stop them. The Avengers, or some equally ridiculous name, was what the pair thought they were called. 

Honestly after they dismantled the organization following Tony and Ned discovering that they were basically Hydra with a new name both Peter and Tony thought that would be the last anyone heard of them. But no, they had to be difficult and send out some poor saps to stop them from ‘taking over the world’ or some such nonsense. Tony and Peter were just wanting to make the world safe couldn’t SHIELD understand that. Yet there was SHIELD’s Captain America lookalike (or clone Tony wasn’t sure) declaring them villains

. And sure their plans could be heavy handed sometimes but they ran everything past Ned and MJ anyway as they knew that the pair would provide a more calm and level headed viewpoint (Both Peter and Tony knew that they could get carried away) and they never really objected to any of their goals

[anghraine]

I 100% unironically love Tolkien's conception of Elves and Númenóreans as almost indistinguishably mystically beautiful and also hulking giants.

[villainsidestep]

living up to the villain sidestep name (thinking of a Third puppet)

[candybenc]

I know he’s like

Never coming back but,,,, he’s so cute :< I love him

And I love imagining him as a silly lil edgy gremlin fella <3 Oaugh so silly

Also sorry if this one looks like ass I couldn’t figure out what to do for the background HJDH

[yamujiburo]

Wait, I'm confused. I never watched the pokemon show so most of my knowledge about it comes from your blog but—

What's the difference between Jesse, Jesselina, and Jessebelle? Are they all the same person or different? Is it the same in canon as in your au?

This is Jessie. Team Rocket member, self-proclaimed leader of the Team Rocket trio composed of her James and Meowth.

This is ALSO Jessie but in her idol/contest persona disguise known as Jessilina. Eccentric, loud, entertaining performer.

This is Jessebelle. James' fiancée and Jessie's lookalike. She's prim and proper but also incredibly unhinged. The physical differences between her and Jessie are her greener eyes and redder hair

BONUS:

This is Jessilee, Jessie's OTHER contest persona. She's not as eccentric and out there as Jessilina but still fun and still Jessie

This is Jessilinda who is ALSO, ALSO Jessie. It's her "tween/teen" disguise that she used to infiltrate a camp she was too old to join LOL. She postures herself as a popular girl and makes other people do all her assignments for her.

Jessie has many more alter egos like Jessilynlyn, Jesslana, Jessidia, Jessarilyn etc. She's really creative with names

[fictionkinfessions]

Oh, yeah, almost forgot.

Canon lookalike for my Reversed end: HOWL FFFFUCKING PENDRAGON, APPARENTLY.

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis. 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Author's note: This is now a complete series! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument.

“What the fuck, Val? You can’t just come in here and dump a fucking body on my fucking floor. Christ.” The first voice was a man’s, the intonation weary rather than angry. He walked towards you, each footstep reverberating through the floor and through your tender skull. “Look, I don’t want to be in the same room with you right now.”

“This isn’t a body.” The second man spoke from behind you, and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes. Dimly, you took stock of your situation. You were on the floor. Your head hurt. Your body felt weird.

“One of your sluts, then. I don’t fucking care, just get it out of here.”

“No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.”

No, your body wasn’t just painful, but really weird, like all of your joints weren’t quite where you remembered them. You were pretty sure your ears were in the wrong place. What had happened?

“Oh, fuck you, Val. I don’t have a-” The man in front of you stopped mid sentence, an audible intake of breath. “Oh. Oh, fuck. What the fuck, Val?”

The second man made a pleased noise deep in his throat, and laughed. “See? I know what you really want.”

“Fuck me, that’s, uh, some resemblance.” The first man’s voice slowed, tone shifting from annoyance to something closer to awe. He moved closer, and you felt the air shift as he crouched next to you, getting a closer look. “Where did you get them?”

“We had some idiots posted near the east side boundary who were meant to look out for Alastor. This one was just lying in the street. Wrong color, but you know the saying- life gives you lemons, you see how many you can insert into one slut.”

“Fucking hell.” The first man leaned in closer, and you squinted open your eyes. Blue was most of what you could see. Glowing blue. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you gave an involuntary sound, a static crackle and a whine like a capacitor with a faulty mount. “Oh fuck, they even sound like him! Val!”

“Whatever you say, snookums.” Val exhaled again, the air moving as he walked away. “Pheremones on the cabinet if you need them, you can thank me when you’re done with your new toy.”

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice feeling deeply unfamiliar, a coarse, crackling edge to it. Groggily, you lifted your head, still squinting. The man who had stayed was glowing blue, and you squinted at him uneasily, your eyes not quite working as you expected. Where were your glasses? “Who are you?”

“Oh, fuck, that voice is so fucking close. This is so great. Hey, can you look at me real quick?” A blue hand caught the bottom of your chin, guiding your head, and you found yourself staring into a rectangle of blue. “Can you say I’m sorry Vox?”

“Who’s Vox?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. “Why are you a television?”

“Ohh fuck.” The man let your chin drop, withdrawing his touch. “You really are new here, aren’t you? Fucking Val.” He sighed, and as your eyes adjusted further, you could see his face was digital, a pattern dancing across the screen. “Alright, first off, I’m Vox. Let’s get you up.”

His hand around your forearm, Vox helped you to your feet. Which you didn’t have. You had hooves. You looked away, feeling faintly nauseous, and nearly tripped as soon as you were standing, only Vox’s arm holding you up. You made another sound of distress, a static whine.

“Hey, hey.” Vox’s tone shifted again, from his previous intense interest in you to something softer. “You’ll be okay. Let’s get you to the bed.”

Stumbling, you made it to the bed, and Vox lowered you carefully onto the sheets. They were a dark blue, the thread count so high they were almost silky to the touch.

You pulled your legs up onto the bed and started feeling the length of them with your fingers, the familiar knee to the unfamiliar cleft of the hoof, your panic continuing to rise. “What’s happening to me? Is this even real?”

“Fuck me that’s hot,” breathed Vox, his gaze on your hooves for a moment before he tore it away. He sat beside you, hesitating before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Yes, this is real. Everyone goes through this, y’know. I’m a fuckin-” he gestured to his face. “You get used to it.”

Alarm flooded your body. Used to this? With your legs too long, and your ears- and whatever the fuck was growing out of the top of your head- you didn’t even want to think about that. Tears welled up hot in your eyes, and you swallowed down a sob, something that came out sounding like the pop of a small capacitor bursting.

Vox watched you with a hungry fascination. “Hey,” he said, reaching across to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “It’s hard. Fuck, I know it’s hard. Let me take care of you, okay? I can take care of you.” His arm snaked around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed against Vox’s chest, his other hand a gentle pressure at the small of your back. Vox smelled faintly of hot plastic and windex, but his body was warm, and welcoming, and you nuzzled into his collar as the tears came, half static sobs that shook from your diaphragm up through your shoulders.

“Hey, baby deer, it’ll be okay.” Vox’s palm smoothed your back, rubbing slow circles over your shoulderblades as you cried. “I’ll take good care of you, you’ll see.” His claws went to your collar, undoing the top button of your shirt with thumb and forefinger.

You looked down, surprised, as Vox undid the second button. “What are you-”

You paused, staring into his eyes as you considered your situation. The other guy had dragged you here as a gift. Vox clearly wanted sex. He was warm and his hands were deft, and you were all alone in a strange new place. You had one piece of leverage, and that was your resemblance to whoever this Alastor guy was. Your best bet, realistically, was to play dumb, spread your legs, and negotiate once you had a better grasp of the situation. Or murder him in his sleep, either worked. If you started asking too many questions you risked Vox realizing you had a brain.

“What are you thinking?” Vox asked, hands paused over the third button of your shirt.

What was the dumbest, sluttiest answer you could give to that? You thought fast, improvising. “How do I kiss you?” you asked, blinking away tears. “I mean, can you kiss-”

Vox gave a toothy, slightly superior grin. “Oh, that? C’mere.” Saying that, he put his hand on the back of your head, and pulled you close. Your nose nearly touching the screen, you could feel the heat of him. He was bright so you closed your eyes, your lips pressing against the flatness. And then. Lips. A curve in the glass, and an opening. He probed his tongue against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him inside. The feel of his tongue was like the surface of the screen but more intense, a throbbing electrical signal as it twined against yours. His tongue was also huge, large enough to fill your mouth and extend down your throat, though Vox didn’t push, letting it instead extend between you, the length dripping with saliva. He kept one hand in your hair, the other on your back, and you found yourself crawling into his lap, sitting astride his thighs as you kissed. Your whole body was unfamiliar, but arousal took the edge off, a pulse that ran through your core and-

“Oh-” you breathed, breaking the kiss, becoming aware of the unfamiliar sensation in your own pants. An aching tightness and a pulsing slickness.

Vox withdrew his tongue, his expression one of concern. His gaze followed yours down to your pants, and a triumphant look returned. “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

“I- I think I have more parts than I used to.” You swallowed, the static in your voice crackling. “Is that normal? Does everyone-”

“Show me.” Vox’s response was instant, and when you hesitated, his hand went to your waist, encouraging. A little shimmying later and you were on your back, naked from the waist down, cock engorged, cunt dripping.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck me. Fucking hell.” Vox’s screen glitched slightly as he knelt between your knees, his stare frank and hungry. “That is. Oh, man.”

You closed your eyes, feeling yourself heat under his gaze, tears threatening to well in your eyes again. “Does it… it’s not weird?”

“You are perfect,” said Vox, with the absolute conviction of a man about to ruin his own pants. He crawled up over your body, pushing your unbuttoned shirt open, his touches on your skin almost reverent, the static field from his screen making the fine hairs on your chest stand on end. He kissed you again, giving a groan of satisfaction as his clothed erection pressed against yours. But being exposed like this, even under worshipful eyes, was hard, and you felt the telltale ache in your throat, your face wet with tears as Vox pulled back a little.

He didn’t scold you but hushed you, hand gentle on your damp cheek. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take such good care of you, you’ve got no idea. So you just relax and leave it to me.”

Slowly, you nodded, looking up at him. Crying hadn’t been your plan, but it seemed to be helping.

“Fuck, man, those eyes.” Vox made a noise, continuing under his breath as he undid his belt. “I didn’t know those eyes could look so trusting, fuck me. You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

The tip of his cock was the same luminescent blue as his tongue, the shaft darker. He held your knees under his arms and pushed into you, his stare for you as greedy as it had been from the moment he first saw you, and as good as his word he was gentle with your body, the strokes sweet and slow. You knew intellectually that his gaze was for some guy who happened to look like you, but even so, it was hard not to get caught up in the moment, not with the attention he paid to you, optimizing the slow roll of his hips to hit the good spots inside you as his fist closed over your cock, pumping in time.

A soft mewl escaped you, the first sound you had made without the static filter, and Vox grinned. “See? I’m taking good care of you, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes,” you managed. The way he was fucking you made it difficult to form a coherent sentence.

“Say my name. Say Yes, Vox.”

“Y-ye-” you gave a whimper mid word as he hit the good spot inside you again, palm tightening around your shaft. You swallowed, and tried again. “Yes, Vox- ah!” You felt a twitch from his cock as you said his name, a line of broken pixels down his screen.

“Oh, fuck me, that’s the good stuff.” Vox made a staccato groan, fingers briefly tighter around your shaft. “Tell me you’re sorry, and you should have joined my team.”

“I’m s-s-” Sorry vanished into white noise as Vox set a harsher pace for the two of you, the roll of his hips becoming a snap, making your breath catch as your pleasure built. “I’m sorry Vox, it was a mistake, I should have joined you-”

“You’ve joined me now though, haven’t you? Gonna cum on my cock,” said Vox, with the absolute conviction of a man who could already feel the twitch of your cunt around him.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, feeling sensation crest. You hadn’t expected to cum, not in this unfamiliar body with this unfamiliar man, but the combination of his intensity and the dexterity with which he fucked you proved your undoing, sensation pulled tight through the core of you.

Vox’s expression was an indulgent leer. “That’s right, baby, let go,” he said, and you could only give soft animal and radio interference noises in response as he tipped you over your edge. Your orgasm was a hot white second of nothing but bliss that left your new body trembling and twitching. You came over your own stomach and chest, Vox giving a groan of his own when he saw it. “Fuck me that’s a fucking work of art.”

With you spent he worked on his own end, both hands on your hips, fucking a brisk rhythm into you that had you whimpering through your aftershocks.

“Alastor,” Vox groaned as he came, his eyes glazed as he looked down at you. His spasm into you was another new sensation, a staticky sort of frisson run through you, a shiver through your core and up your spine as his cock pulsed inside you.

You stayed in that position for a few moments, both of you still and panting, Vox not yet soft inside you, still holding your legs under his arms. Tentatively, your reached out and touched his forearm, and this stirred him out of his fugue. “Shit,” he said, blinking. “Right, uh, don’t move.” Gingerly, he withdrew from you, your cunt giving one last echo of a spasm in protest, and you watched him from the bed as he retreated into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel and tissues. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said.

Vox lay alongside you, wiping your cum from your chest with an attentiveness that was equal to any he had shown while fucking you. His strange, rectangular head was warm when the sides brushed against your skin, and you found yourself scooting a little closer to his body. You caught a glimpse of a pleased expression on his face before he pushed a finger under your chin and you tilted your head back so that he could clean the last of the cum from your collarbones and neck. True to his word, he was taking good care of you. Maybe you wouldn’t have to murder him in his sleep after all.

“So, who is Alastor, anyway?” you asked. Vox froze, but you pushed a little further. “I mean, if I’m pretending to be him, it’s better if I know, right?”

“Oh, man.” Vox gave a deep sigh. “Fuck, where do I even start?”

You nestled closer to him, tucking your head against his shoulder, and after a little awkward adjustment, he settled with his arms around you. He radiated heat, and you felt yourself relaxing at the physical contact, your heart rate and your breathing slowing. Tilting your head back, you brushed your nose against the outer frame of Vox’s head, and he gave a soft sigh of contentment. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you said, playing the ingénue.

“No, no, you’re right.” Vox tilted his head, his strange lips brushing against the tips of your ears and making you shiver. “It’s a long story, but I guess you should know.”

[other-peoples-coats]

struck by the idea where, For Reasons, plan saddest desert hermit doesn't get off the ground and team proto-rebellion have to pivot and pivot fast.

chucking the conspiracy equivalent of a uey at 100mph on the highway, and everyone involved is sleep deprived, stressed as fuck, and experiencing y'know, several levels of Devastating Grief.

the person with the brain cell is bail organa, a man who in canon spends like 20 fucking years playing ding dong ditch with a genocidal psychic space wizard and his boss, an even more genocidal space wizard. This man is not lacking in gumption, one can say. he is possessed of life threatening amounts of chutzpah, one might also say, except that he spends twenty years winning the ding dong ditch match with, again, a genocidal fascist dictatorship which includes two genocidal psychic space wizards who literally know he was in tight with the genocided group of space wizards plus the [mumble] number of other murderous genocidal space wizards, plus the rest of the non-space wizard space fascist cohort.

So. What does a man with a spine of steel, a heart as big as a planet, and more gumption than anyone should possess do, when plan 'split up the kids and hide the most famous man in the galaxy on the saddest hell planet' is a no go?

lie. lie like a fucking rug.

What's palpatine going to do? day one of the empire, his super awesome chosen one space wizard makeover project is still in progress and not yet wheezing his way into the galaxy's nightmares, and bail fucking organa strolls into the imperial senate with:

one (1) baby (female)

one (1) baby (male)

several (~20+) aides and various hangers on, including;

one (1) brown haired blue eyed man who could, if you squinted a bit, probably get third place in a general kenobi lookalike competition, were those now not super duper illegal

Sidious, of course, could be like A JEDI KILL HIM TRAITOR ETC, but, crucially, his wheezing attack dog is still on the lab table getting seven inches added to his height and cup holders installed, or whatever the fuck skeevy sheev added in as extras. Palpatine is an old guy who is still trading on being A Beloved Grandfather who was Reluctant To Take The Throne, and is still easing the galaxy into the whole, y'know, we're a fascist empire now, kneel or perish.

Palpatine, on day one of the empire, can't point at bail fucking organa and be like HABOURING A TRAITOR unless he is really, really sure, like 110% sure, because it's bail fucking organa and every goddamn senator will baulk like a horse at a plastic bag if he accuses, again, the senator of alderaan of high treason on day one of the empire.

A secret rebellion is fine, if not ideal; you can theoretically stamp it out, and, also, it's small, percentage wise.

The entire fucking galaxy thinking that, hey, if the guy in charge is going to go after fucking alderaan, what's to stop him going after us? bigger problem. huge problem. original trilogy kinda touched on that one. Day one of the empire, everyone is still basically on war footing, and fuck man, if alderaan is copping it....maybe this empire isn't great after all. maybe we can make our OWN empire, with a different emperor.

Would palps win? eh maybe. would it destroy all credibility forever and ever amen? yeah. the difference between a 'legally installed emperor' and 'a dictator we must overthrow' is how willing the galaxy is to lick boot, and there's not yet the fear of The Empire black bagging you to keep those tongues going.

so. palpatine can't say shit. palpatine can imply shit, palpatine can get his lackies to say shit. but, crucially, palpatine himself can't say fuck all about the goddamn kenobi lookalike that is now following after organa and wiping his kid's little butts and playing gofer and whatever else.

and what's more believable? bail fucking organa is hiding a traitor, or bail organa and his wife have a situationship with a guy who looks sort of a bit like a former general? the same kind of situationship that like, half the senate has had at one point or another with a guy (or guys) who looked sort of a bit like said ex-general. go to any high level business and/or political building, you'll find half a dozen guys who look vaguely like said hot ex-general, and many of them will have a more or less (often less) accurate coruscanti-ish accent. or will develop one.

(hey, it's a niche. gotta pay the bills somehow, and if you get the job because you dyed your hair and grew a beard, well, you're still using your political science degree, right?)

of course, that only holds for so long, but by that point it's been, y'know, a while. and that looks worse in a different way -- what, kenobi was fucking walking around in front of the whole imperial senate, and none of them noticed? absolutely not, all credibility is gone forever.

which means. that palpatine and the organas are stuck in a full on staring match about this guy who is 100% for sure not kenobi, because -- well. he can't be kenobi. becuase that would look bad. but also. it's kenobi. but also. it can't be kenobi.

(vader takes one look at this guy who looks like his master kenobi and then rolls his eyes, because he has already met aproximately 90,000 people who look vaugely like his master and he got very good at picking out how the newest one was not kenobi his master by the time he was a senior padawan.)

[calimera62]

I'm seeing many people saying things like: "Come on, it was too obvious... They look too much alike!" or "Why are you all surprised? They could be twins!".

To these sentences, I'll answer:

1/ We thought it was an on-going joke.

2/ Some of us may have suspected they were cousins/half brothers/twins/whatever but we never guessed it would be revealed as canon, in a movie, more than twenty years after.

3/ The manga is full of lookalikes. Ran and Aoko look alike, they could even be twin sisters if not for the different hair style. Does the fandom claim them to be family? Soshi Okita also looks like Shinichi. Even Hattori was able to disguise himself as Shinichi (ableit with a different hair style and make-up to clear his skintone). Does that mean they're family too? Gosho Aoyama is known for drawing characters with similar traits. You can't blame us for thinking Kaito and Shinichi looking like each other was nothing but a coincidence.

[barrenclan]

Wait a minute...

More seriously though, the issues keep getting better and better and this has been one of my favorite ones to date; thank you Raz! It paid off as well on its own to get an explanation for one of the most heavily foreshadowed phenomena in the comic, but especially for me, reading as someone who thinks too much about how my dreams might reveal information that I'm not meant to know yet, canon Warriors StarClan ambiguity-style.

Love the expressions (and the cameos! I want to know how Dodol or a lookalike ended up in Barrenclan or if that's just his design being recycled) in this one as well. Double instances of Pinepaw smiling again is a treat, maybe signifying the beginning of the healing process for him. I'm happy Nightberry advises him that it's going to take time.

Seeing an older Pinepaw with green grass and a blue border in a shade that I'm pretty sure has never come up in the comic yet also gives me hope for the future, but who knows what it holds!

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed the issue.

This universe's Dodol is separate from the original one, in a sort of AU. Although, out of all my cat characters, he's the only one for whom it's perfectly reasonable that he would just wander into a random Nebraskan Clan and sit himself down.

It was very nice and satisfying to bring some resolution to Nightberry and Pinepaw's fracturous relationship. They have much more in common than not.

[elaemae]

List of Chapters for my fanfiction named;

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

Prologue (Shit's about to go down.)

(Pls reblog, it gives motivation :3)

(P.s If there's anything wrong with the links, pls tell me)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Tyrannical blood rose (Aka. Catan's anger issues mixed with Luke's height, and amplified by Luci's legendary stick up the ass.)

• Chp. 1.1

• Chp. 1.2

• Chp. 1.3 (Yet to be available)

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Sunset Revolution (Aka. Belphie but with less yanda-yandar-eyi and more turning people into sanda-sandy-eyi.)

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Fishy practices (Aka. Solomon but somehow shadier due to the lack of fucks given towards the betterment of humanity. Feat. Barbatos' clone + his chaotic lookalike.)

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One man coup d'etat (Aka. It's snek boi time with illegal imprisonment in what is equivalent to a boot camp sprinkled in for some flavor.)

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The envy of the fairest (Aka. Asmodeus but with less manwhore tendencies. Both serving cunt nonetheless)

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Be my Persephone (Aka. Why is no one in this goddamn school normal?! Ortho put the particle canon down—)

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Sleeping beauty got nothing on this perfect bitch. (Aka. Ass-kissing to authority gone wrong.)

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