#god i love roleswap

[octtinkk]

Living, breathing, and dying for @mistercesare’s prohibitedwish roleswap au. Take some fanart.

[animusbell]

i love how it becomes increasingly apparent that there is no other gem that could've made steven quartz universe

you think, at the start, okay. this is an unusual thing, an unheard of thing, for a gem to have a child (transform into part of the material to create a child, give their gem to a child). but all gems can shapeshift, and can reform their bodies with different looks.

but... just looks. amethyst can't change the amount of mass she has, and changing how it's distributed causes issues. holding shapeshifted forms takes energy. for a gem to permanently change forms, and in fact, infuse their form with a growing and changing body in spite of the perfectly static nature of gem physiology... that's absolutely wild.

but hey, could be a rose quartz thing, right? after all, we haven't seen another rose quartz yet, and also, not everyone can shapeshift equally! era 2 gems can't shapeshift. ...gems made without pink diamond's essence can't shapeshift.

so shapeshifting is what pink diamond contributes to the pool; she's almost certainly the only diamond capable of doing so. (no wonder her legacy transformed her family.)

and hey, would you look at that: pink diamond held a shapeshifted form for extended periods with no visible difficulty. pink diamond reformed into a new shape, with entirely different mass and proportions and even gem orientation.

pink diamond was seen on a jungle planet and seen cracking her pearl, but she was never known to control plants or heal gems. her abilities were new with the transformation into rose quartz. and unique abilities came with steven's arrival, too.

no other gem could allow for so much change to their form that they could become part of a whole new person, without ever turning back.

no other gem could've made steven quartz universe.

[mcpuffin-fax]

AAAAAAAAA—! I have a need to draw, and draw I MUST!

Good God, jojo-schmo’s Clawroline looks so good! I’m in love with her! I can’t wait to see the progress of The Forgotten Land RoleSwap, my brain is going crazy just thinking about how she’ll fight!

This was also a great opportunity for me to try out my own take on drawing the leopard. I’m super proud of how it turned out!

[erkolblinguispretre]

When you encounter an older version of your friend that has beaten the evil AI you're currently fighting:

A draw of that oneshot. Emmanuel-Jean's younger and is a little bean, and he is absolutely putting TBITC!Aelita in his pantheon of heroes for seeing the end of XANA.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

i love how flexible the concept of a roleswap can be. if i swap reigen and serizawa, am i changing which one is psychic? which one is a liar? which one is mob's mentor? which one went viral on twitter? which one used to be a shut-in? a terrorist? a water cooler salesman?

what roles do they occupy that i want to study like a bug under my magnifying glass?

but also: what is "role" and what is "character"? if i swap all of these things, what if anything is left of the original characters that makes the swap interesting? is it just aesthetics left at that point (i.e. only visually distinct) or is there still something different about the story you'd tell with them?

what is it that makes reigen essentially reigen, that you couldn't replace without making him unrecognizable? is it the same type of quality that makes serizawa essentially serizawa?

[hirokiyuu]

all my tension, taut and inhabited

ever since @vergess wrote some truly fantastic besk meta, i've been rotating her in my mind and now have. well. written a Lot of fic about her in an au where she lives LMAO this is not quiiiiite long enough to go on ao3 so for now i'm putting it on ao3 until either i have more publishable besk stuff or maybe just until my beta bullies me into putting it on ao3 anyways.

please note this fic/au has strong themes of suicide, major depression, unhealthy romantic relationships, and unhealthy parent/child relationships. besk is in a pretty bad place! this comes into play with pretty much everyone she interacts with! take care of yourself and keep scrollin if this doesn’t sound like hte fic for you!

as always, thanks to alm for beta’ing! title is from mal blum’s better go, which is kind of lowkey my besk/instance theme but also a bit just my besk theme in general LOL

and with that:

After everything, when Besk has finally been left alone to lie in the dark, her son sneaks into her room. [besk lives au, pt1]

Afterwards, when the shouting’s died down and her throat’s been treated -- Thank goodness, Tan had murmured when she must’ve thought Besk couldn’t hear, that she didn’t tie the noose properly, which had made Besk want to prove exactly what she’d be able to do with a rope and someone’s vulnerable neck -- after the discussions that she doesn’t bother speaking during and after they’ve let her know she’s on suicide watch, courtesy of Congruence -- after, when she’s finally been left alone to lie in the dark -- after everything, her son sneaks into her room.

She should’ve expected it. Her constant companion, her Dysthymia. He’s never going to leave. “Mom?” comes his small voice from the open door, quiet and a little hesitant. “...Mom?”

She can’t bring herself to answer. She wishes she were dead. There’s a very long silence, before the door shuts, footsteps tiptoe across the room, and then the side of the bed dips. 

Most likely he’s been told not to see her, but it doesn’t matter. Dysthymia doesn’t listen to anyone at all. At some point she’s begun crying again, and when her son crawls forward and their eyes meet, he hesitates. “Mom?” he says, still in his wobbling child’s voice, greedy for her attention, for her love.

She doesn’t answer. Her eyes fall closed. Another pause comes, long, exhausting. Why couldn’t Tan just let me die, she thinks, and it’s halfway through this thought that something warm snuggles up against her chest.

Oh. She cracks an eye open, just barely, looks down. Her son has nestled himself in between her limp arms, burrowed up against her chest with his tiny fists clinging to her sides. He’s not looking at her. Their eyes don’t meet. He doesn’t say anything.

Alright, she thinks. Okay. Okay. He’s warm and small, and she’s reminded, suddenly, of when he’d just been born: her baby, small and helpless and so, so needy. Warm and easy in her arms.

She’s still crying. She hasn’t stopped. But she lies there in the dark with her child, the small quiet warmth of him, and finds herself breathing in time with the rise and fall of his tiny shoulders. Doesn’t quite manage to hold him back, can’t find the strength in her arms, but it’s alright -- she doesn’t have to. He’s already where he needs to be.

Time gets away from her, these days; she doesn’t know if they lie there for minutes or hours, silent and together in the dark. She might have drifted off. The next thing she’s aware of is the door sliding open again, harsh light cut to shreds by two figures, and a child’s voice: “--not fair, I want to see her too!”

Fuck. Dysthymia says nothing, just pushes in closer towards her. Next is Tan: “Both of you need to come back out here, and give your mother some space.” Her voice is at its gentlest, which paradoxically makes Besk wish that she were dead. “We’ll bring you to see her later, when she’s feeling better.”

“Dys got to see her!” That voice is so shrill. Unhappy. Miserable with longing, a state Besk is all too familiar with herself. Her eyes, again, are becoming hot. “I want to see her too! Look, I want to show her my science project!”

Go away, I don’t care, is Besk’s first thought. What a miserable human being she is. Horrid, cruel, despicable. She was supposed to be dead by now. “You can show her later,” says Tan, still in that same not quite gentle tone. “For now, she needs rest. Dys, come along.”

The weight in her arms doesn’t move; Tan huffs out a sharp breath. How annoying. She used to sigh like that when Besk would interrupt her too, sometimes, back when Besk was searching for something to keep herself afloat and found Instance’s hand instead. “Dys. It’s for your mother’s sake.”

For a moment she thinks Dysthymia won’t leave, but the weight in her arms squirms just a little, and then her son is pulling away. She doesn’t fight it. Her face is wet. “Thank you,” mutters Tan. If Besk had the energy she would carve Tan’s throat out with a scalpel.

From the door comes a displeased huff, as the footsteps slowly cross her floor, and then again that petulant voice says: “It’s not fair.” 

Life never is, Besk thinks. Lucky for her she’s got no way to move her mouth: that’s not a lesson that any child needs to learn yet. From her peripheral she can just barely see the shadows in the doorway, made inhuman backlit as they are: one a monster in two parts, connected only by the long appendage too long to be a single arm, and then to its side the small lump she would know even if she were dead.

“Bye, Mom,” says her son, quietly. There’s a pause, and then the other voice echoes the sentiment, still sullen. Besk doesn’t answer. 

Another sigh from Instance. Part of Besk wants to curl up tighter under the blankets, but it seems like too much effort. Instead she lies there until the door shuts, and finally, finally, she’s left alone once more in the dark.

She closes her eyes. It’s colder than before.

[concernedbrownbread]

It’s your choice, Toph, Azula had said.

And she was right. This was her choice. This was her life. And she was stronger than all of them.

“That is it,” Toph growled, raising her hand high, “I’m sorry Mom, Dad, but I’m done putting on a show.”

She brought her hand down in one sharp motion, and with it, she brought down the entire wall of the manor.

(She was made  —)

“I’m leaving,” she declared, “I’m going with the Avatar.”

“No you’re not,” Dad commanded.

“I love you guys,” Toph said, “But really. Who’s going to stop me?”

She stepped out of the manor, the fallen wall nothing but rubble under her feet. Behind her, the soldiers had finally made their way in, making Mom yelp. In front of her, she spotted her friends and some people she didn’t know surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers.

Good. She had been itching for a proper fight.

“I’m Toph Beifong,” she declared, loving how it sounded so much better than the Blind Bandit.

( — to move mountains.)

“And I’m going to be the greatest earthbender alive.”

When she called, Earth listened.

[Chapter 12: The Greatest of Lily White, Poppy Red]

[nonbinaryphantom]

the unavoidable conflict in role swap is so grips you bc knowing how danny and vlad are in this au like vlad would absolutely not use full strength on danny, a kid who he’s trying to help out but it really conflicts with danny who’s main drive is to prove himself as not inferior and it’s sad bc he was getting proud of himself for being able to match vlad on his own power instead of relying on subterfuge. but then he finds out vlad was holding back a lot of his power, and that plays into danny’s feelings of inferiority which absolutely crushes him. and this basically leads into danny’s descent into self destruction and 💥💥⚡️

[arolesbianism]

I wanna make art for my dst roleswap au sooo bad but at the same time I think if I had to deal with even a single person deadnaming Wx on my posts I would snap

[monstersqueen]

you’re the Port Mafia’s White Reaper, a fearless assassin who slaughters his foes without even batting an eye.

:((( oh no atsushi :((( this is so not good for him :((((

Atsushi carefully listened to those ominous words as they resonated throughout the room before being absorbed and disappearing into the walls and floor. He then said, “I’m not fearless.”

His voice was quiet and barren, like the bleached bones of the deceased on a battlefield after war.

and he is. so. fucked up. in this verse.

[mistercesare]

soooo we and my friend (@arrrrimo on twitter) were brainstorming a prohibitedwish roleswap au!!! and i made some concepts for it!!

more au info unfer the cut

God-Auditor!Prismo here kinda has his canon personality?? he is chill and fun and loved by everyone!!! but he is. terrifying actually. like he can get through any little crack, he doesn't get tired of running, and there's no predicting if he decides to let you off the hook or not

and if he lets someone go everyone will go "he's such a chill guy! how cool of him" and if he doesn't well he just does his job right?? so his reputation is kinda invincible but everyone are a little uncomfortable around him because well. he's still a god-auditor you don't wanna let him see your fuckups

AND WISHMASTER!SCARAB i love him so much actually

he's still you know a perfectionist jerk but there's no eons of pent-up rage and urge for revenge so he's much more calm

also he has no problem with everyone disliking him he likes his job he worked hard to get it and he does it as he should so everyone else can fuck off🥰

he hates when people wish without thinking tho he sees it as DISRESPECTFUL (and also he loves watching drama play out and missed opportunity pisses him off) we actually thought of a version of him and jake meeting like in canon with prismo and scarab being so mad at jake not wishing something important that he hands him a bunch of records and says to sit there until he comes up with something FITTING

scarab is interesting for prismo bc hes the only one who is not afraid if him. like he KNOWS he's doing everything by the book and there's nothing prismo can do. also scarab keeps sending complaints to orbo about prismo's work which is hilarious

scarab on his side starts off disliking prismo for not doing his job properly then starts disliking him even more bc now he constantly hangs around the cube and annoys him (scarab is convinced prismo is just trying to make him mess up so he can catch him red-handed) to you know. liking having someone around who listens to you infodumping ab multiverse

(pleeeaseeee check out these drawings by arrrimo!!! https://twitter.com/Arrrrimo/status/1711749762121077130?t=g4KX0wPydGkg0f1dO5vdrA&s=19)

[ataraxiaspainting]

King of Infinity.

Yan (Villain) Gojo x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You don’t get the starring role. You’re partially happy about it; because you don’t have to break a leg.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships/kidnapping(?), descriptions of genocide, descriptions of corpses, manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome(ish), and degrading language against the reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

can technically be considered a roleswap AU but up to you as geto isn’t talked about rcfncodnorjr…

*~*~*~*

“I never considered you someone who would be fond of apartments.” Satoru pushes his sunglasses up with his pointer finger as he wraps an arm around your trembling shoulders.

The same hand that holds you so very tenderly in the eyes of his followers is the same hand that turns on the lighter to envelop his cigarette in a small flame – a flame you had learned long ago to not attempt to put out, lest you would like it seared into your palm like the tattoo he forced on your neck.

‘The Star.’

“It’s a good strategy though,” Those words are the closest thing to a praise you have heard in months. They are akin to Satan reflecting on his reign of hell and comparing, considering whether or not it would be better to serve in heaven. But then he would laugh as his servants danced, not wanting any angel or God to take such bliss away from him.

Satoru had you dressed in what he considered to be the highest quality fabrics monkeys can make, while he had attire made from the sorcerers he had wrapped around his finger. Yours were not suitable for Tokyo’s snowstorms and his clothing covered up more skin than he would ever let you cover – because you aren’t him, the one he loves the most more than anything else in this beautiful world; Gojo Satoru, the special grade sorcerer that killed more than thirty thousand people in a single hour outside Jujutsu High and was never punished after that fateful evening.

You still remember that night. It is etched into your memory like a child had drawn it on a white wall. Despite everything, you will not ever be able to erase it. You will grow old and never dream of anything but him, the center of your now small universe, the only flower that is allowed to bloom under the eternal blood moon. Everything else will rot – even the earth’s shadow will not remain once Satoru’s dreams are realized. His will is all that matters now, he is the priest of the god of destruction and you are so very far below him. 

A monkey. That is where you will stay and continue to be after you rot and he steps on the soil placed on top of you so you cannot breathe or scream. Only gratitude can fall from your disgusting lips because Gojo Satoru’s only fuel is the groveling of every living creature that makes up the infinite number of galaxies. He will gladly replace your tongue with the worms who decompose you if you have more to say than that. After a while, he’ll comfort you and say that it doesn’t get too bad underneath because that is your one true purpose in life; to not speak and only do.

“You didn’t cry too much this time,” The ends of Satoru’s mouth move upwards, having the freedom to do as they please because his lips aren’t sewn shut. Yours on the other hand can hardly get something that tastes pleasant. “That’s an improvement, wouldn’t you say? I’ll be sure to get you some mochi after this mission, pet.”

You’re not sure if he is talking about the car ride here or the corpses strewn across the floor – occupants of this apartment and a poor security guard that just so happened to be in the general vicinity and heard flesh being torn apart like paper.

There are glimmers coming from the knife block in the kitchen area, the sunlight hitting them just right to make them glow a silvery hue. But the idea dies as soon as you feel its warmth – almost nonexistent because of the burning cold – and slink back into the shadows where you belong, where you are meant to be.

“I never took you to be one for planning. Usually, it is Nanami who does that.” 

A puff of smoke comes out, but you can still see his glowing eyes. You can always see them no matter what you do, even if you close your own, so you decide to imagine them as a different color; something less bright and more normal, something like black or brown. Sometimes you get away with it, and other times he somehow knows.

“I don’t mind it though.”

From across the street, you see the clocktower that stands at the gate of the nearest train station… or bus stop. You don’t care enough to remember which it was. Most likely the former though – you highly doubt any mere bus station would have a clock that large when said buses only hold less than fifty people.

“Will you miss me?” The tone in his voice is teasing, you think because his lighter isn’t on his lap or in his hand – it is on the little coffee table beside the sofa you two are sitting on. But you must still behave according to Satoru’s design because the placement of the flames can easily change. The comfort is cold, but it is better than a scorching hot truth.

“Yes.” 

The real reason you had chosen an apartment and not some corporate office that was under the thumb of the Star Religious Group was because you wanted to be somewhere that was halfway normal. It’s selfish, you know that. But the floors are aged and not polished daily, the air smells different and the heating is at its lowest setting because the owners wanted to save a bit of money. It was oh so very selfish of you. But when you are forced to be the companion of Gojo Satoru, someone who is every definition of the word, you have to combat it in a way that won’t leave your skin black and blue.

“It’s almost eleven,” Satoru groans, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Some blood managed to get up there along with a bit of a leather shoe, probably the husband’s. You two ignore it for different reasons that are just as strong as the other. “Be good.”

When he reaches towards the table, you think he is reaching for his lighter. But with a slight detour of his hand, he opens his wallet instead. A few thousand yen is handed to you when your eyes are closed, your mind prepared for another fight or flight response. All you get is another poke of your cheek.

“You know where the market is, don’t you? The one I took you after our date last week.” 

You nod. “Would you like mochi, master?”

“No,” Satoru chuckles. “Get me something you like.”

[allysdelta]

Some long-overdue fan art for @asleepyyy 's delicious Good Omens roleswap AU, Oopsie!Omens. They are cranking out comic pages like an absolute maniac right now, and I can't help but be in awe of both the commitment and the creativity.

Thoughts below:

Oopsie!Omens, for those who don't keep up with the comic, roughly follows the events of the Good Omens TV show, but with one significant change: Aziraphale deliberately takes the fall on the Starmaker's behalf back before the Beginning, so here, our ineffable duo are the demon Azazel and the Archangel Jophiel. So far, Jophiel hasn't learned what exactly transpired, but bless it if this odd little barn owl demon isn't both strangely familiar and inexplicably endearing...

This has been the first roleswap/reverse Omens AU that I have been able to get on board with, largely because our heavenly/hellish pair are recognizably them; Azazel is devout, meticulous, and willing to march into the unthinkable to defend what he loves, while Jophiel is clever, snarky, jaded, fiercely protective, and will let nothing stand in the way of finding the truth.

Besides the above, there are two things I really love about this comic: One is that the artist has taken considerable liberty with the ways that the two appear over time, through mannerisms and costume, and every form they take, whether it's a palette change or gender presentation, is a delight. The other is watching how the comic, from a technical and storytelling standpoint, keeps outdoing itself. The artist was always skilled, but it is sheer pleasure to see how much their work advances with each update.

Did I mention that the comic is also funny? It is FUNNY. Brace yourself for the occasional heart stab, though.

Azazel's hands burn when he attempts to pray to God. The thought of the smoke forming art nouveau-esque swirls was entirely too good to pass up.

The actual art (watercolor pencil, layered over with standard colored pencil) looks a bit more radiant in person. My camera was more interested in the pencil marks than the colors.

Asleepyy, if you're reading this, stay well, don't burn yourself out, and know we'll always understand if you need to take a break!

[redcoralpot]

Stu!! I love seeing ppl love him. Would I be able to request some roleswap ish au, where reader is a slasher, and stu is the "final girl". He gets caught ofc, and reader unmasks, smut ensues (maybe stu had a crush or smth, maybe dubcon if u accept it).

Unrelated: Loved seeing Matthew lillard as william Afton, he did so good.

Ruined Man - Stu Macher X M!Reader

Summary: Stu Macher was a classic rich boy; arrogant, eccentric, and an asshole. He was known for playing cruel pranks on others, and earlier in the weak, he pranked Sidney by scaring her as the infamous Ghostface Killer. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Trick or treat, right?

Warnings: NSFW, non-fatal violence, weapons.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I don't write anything with SA, CNC, or dub-con; Stu plainly consents to the activities described. He has implied feelings for the Reader, and other implied activities as well... but I'll let you discover that part.

-

-

Crickets chirped in the grass, the crescent moon high in the sky. Finally, the noise from the Macher’s Halloween party had died down, and most people had left already, causing a blanket of peace to float down on the street. Any stragglers were drunkenly slumped against the curb, blacked out or calling for a sober ride. Your mask stuck out from the shadows, exaggerated and white, as you watched the property slowly become empty. Well, empty except for the host, of course. Stu Macher.

You could see him through one of the many windows, lounging on the first floor’s living room couch, still moving. Your fingers fumbled against the phone’s dial– god, how do killers run in this shit– pulling the black fabric further up your arm to position the voice changer closer to your mouth. Now, you patiently waited for the other man to pick up, seeing him jolt out of his position. Stu rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Yo?”

Your lips curled into a nasty sneer, “Do you like scary movies, Stu?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Don’t make me choose, you know I’ve watched too many good ones!”

…

Huh? There was no way he knew your identity already. You’ll give him credit, he’s smart, but most definitely not that smart. Stu always visits the rental store Randy works at, and he always rented horror movies with Sidney’s boyfriend, Billy Loomis; that much you knew. He could not have seen you through the window before he ran into the kitchen, and even if he managed to, your mask was still securely strapped on.

“You still there? I haven’t dropped off Hellraiser yet, you could've just asked if you wanna watch it again.”

You hung up, breath quickening. Stu wasn’t scared, even though you were using the same voice changer as the loose, prank-calling murderer running around the streets of Woodsboro. You dumped the phone on the ground, hidden behind a bush. If he wasn’t scared by a little sound-a-like, that was fine, you came prepared. Stu’s garage door had been left open, and you jogged over. Frankly, it didn’t matter how much the rich boy had it coming, you were never doing this again. The costume’s long fringes caught on your feet, almost causing you to trip as you avoided the windows; less silent than you had hoped. Your shoes shuffled against the concrete, and you jiggled the handle of the only door, praying it would open. It creaked as you slipped inside, your shoes surely creasing when you tiptoed into the living room. From behind the couch, you could see that Stu was still in his kitchen, but he was looking around.

He grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Nobody else’s here, Billy. You don’t gotta sneak into my house, you know that!”

 Sighing, you watch him leave the room to wander about the hallways, stopping by the door you had snuck through– and forgot to close. He squinted, looking at the mistake, and back at the living room. Your cheeks burned, adrenaline starting to pump in your veins as he took a few steps closer. 

“C’mon, you wanna have a movie marathon? It’s kinda late for that, but whatever. I have plenty of snacks left from the party, and a whole lot more puke!”

Stu turned away at the last second, choosing instead to sprint down into the bathroom. You could hear a muffled, “Gotcha… nope,” over rustling cloth as you crawled on your hands and knees into the kitchen. The freezing tile shocked any distraction from your system, and you stood up, settling into the darkest part of the kitchen. One of your hands held a dull knife, while the other held the little voice changer machine. However, your position left you without visuals on your victim. You were tempted to pull down your hood, but that would be too reckless, especially since he seemed to think you were his dearest friend. Oh, man, he didn’t know what was coming. 

“Y’know I love pranks, man, but time’s up,” He probed, leaning on the marbled island, just out of reach.

Stu visibly flinched as he turned around and found you staring at him, the mask’s empty eyes giving nothing away. It took him but a second to recover, yet, and a smile accompanied his wild eyes, “Billy!”

You tilted your head, slowly raising your left hand, “Incorrect.”

He didn’t have time to respond; you lunged. You gripped his collar in a fist and slammed him into the countertop– he winced. Stu tried pushing you back, but it was in vain, your knife already threatening to pierce his throat.

Your full weight was on the man, and he raised his hands in defeat. Stu’s chest rose and fell in hefty patterns; you snickered at his obedience. His head slumped back as you released his shirt, in favor of wrenching your mask off to face him.

“Surprise, Macher.”

Stu chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip, “Didn’t know you were in on it too.”

“In on what– aren’t you scared?” You growled, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, but not enough to draw blood.

“Dunno,” his back arched, causing a drop of blood to drip down his shirt, “I think you could’ve done better!”

You flipped him over, slicing a fringe off of your costume to tie his hands with. Your hips were in between his thighs, leaving him trapped, and the robe itself fell on the floor beside its mask. Stu giggled, hoisting up his torso with his elbows.

“It’s payback; you could use some.”

He winced as you pulled his hair, “Hngh, it was Billy’s idea.”

“Don’t act innocent.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You rasped, moving to step back, “Nothing you don’t want; I think the prank’s done enough.”

Stu seemed to freeze, albeit briefly, but he wrapped his ankles around your hips– preventing you from running. Your hands brushed against them, tense, as his shoulders shook.

“I wanna.” A smile laced his tone.

“You sure?”

“I’m pose-itive,” he joked, “get it?”

You wrenched his mouth open, pressing down on his tongue with your thumb, “Shut it.”

He nodded, trying his best to close his lips around your finger. Your other hand trailed down his side, taking its sweet time, before landing on his waist. Saliva still connected your fingers to his mouth as you removed them, all in favor of lifting his hips. Underneath, you unzipped his jeans, taking extra care to avoid giving any friction. When you stepped back to slide them off of Stu, he whined, his hips still chasing your touch. His jeans were thrown aside, and you slid back in your place. You knew he could feel your breath on his neck.

Your crotch ground against his ass, a shiver spreading across his spine. Stu was audibly panting; his head was hanging low and he pushed his hips to meet your thrusts. You hummed, choosing to drag the knife in soft strokes down his back, the cool metal only just piercing his skin. Red oozed in thick droplets out of the wounds, some getting big enough to trickle down his back. The pain seemed to follow it down, as Stu made quite the pathetic noise. 

“We’ve barely even gotten started, Macher, and you’re this desperate already?” You teased.

“Mm, show me what ‘cha got!”

You chuckle and suck a bruise onto the back of his neck. From that position, you could hear a groan rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t strong enough to escape. Hm, you could change that. You sunk the edge of your teeth into a different spot, holding on for a second before soothing the bite with your tongue. If the bruise didn’t make what happened obvious, well, this would. Stu would just have to deal with it. Though, you doubt he’d mind.

The knife clattered onto the marble counter after you dropped it, Stu’s thighs twitching, “Where’s the lube?”

Stu didn’t answer, but only whined.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

His voice shook, trying to form words past used lips, “Bathroom.”

“Louder, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Stu wiggled against your weight, “C’mon, man– f-fuck, it’s in the bathroom, please!”

You tutted, a cruel grin on your face, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t need directions, and as soon as you were out of his view, you practically ran there. Hell, you weren’t gonna miss out on this chance, were you? Stu, the eccentric boy that played downright evil pranks on anybody that breathed around him, reduced to a perverted degenerate. Perhaps he was already like that, and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

The lube was in a small, portable bottle that was half empty when you found it. Back in the kitchen, you poured the majority of what was left in your palm and fingers. Using just two, for the moment, you spread it over his hole; a finger may have dipped in every once and a while, in the process. 

“I wanna, I wanna do it already,” Stu shuddered, his fidgeting acting up again.

A finger eased its way inside, a little too easily, much to your surprise, “Not yet.”

“I really wanna.” Another, just as simply.

“That’s too bad;” you mused, “have you been fingering yourself?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth, “Uhuh, uhuh.”

“To what?”

“Y-you, and me.” 

You spread the final bit over your dick, before pressing your hand into the sides of his neck, “You little pervert. Bet you loved getting a glimpse of me in the locker room, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, yes– oh, shit.” Stu’s little tangent was interrupted by you slamming inside; the sting melted in with pleasure as you brushed his prostate.

Only for a moment did you stop to let him adjust, before pulling out and thrusting again. You found a rhythm, and the counter rubbed against his cock as you continued, smearing precum over the wood. His hands, still bound, scrabbled for anything to hold onto, but in vain. His nails just slid off of the smooth stone, his drool making it even slippier. Stu squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a knot grow in his gut. 

He clenched around you, causing you to grunt, “‘M gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please… ah!”

“We’re not done yet,” you hissed, firmly slapping his thigh.

“I can’t hold it, man, I really can’t,” he sobbed out, eyelashes wet from unreleased tears.

A sharp pain on his shoulder burned through any restraint the guy had, the knot unraveling as quickly as it had formed. Stu thrashed, the fringe snapping, and his vision whited out. His brain was all fuzzy; the only thing he could focus on was gripping the edge of the counter. Stu’s face was smushed against the counter, crimson mixing with the white surface. He shivered, eyes heavy, feeling a little floaty when a thick liquid dripped down his thighs. You pulled out of him, rubbing his waist as you did so.

“Good job, Macher. That was one hell of a show you put on, ” you sighed.

“Hhn.”

His body was limp as you turned him over, using the oven towel to start to clean him up, “How’re you feeling?”

Stu finally opened his eyes, using all of his strength to grin up at you, “Dude… that was like, awesome.”

“Pfft, you sound out of it.”

“Eh, what makes you say that? I want a big glass of water!”

You cackled, leaving his side to shuffle through a cabinet full of fancy cups, finally choosing a sturdy looking mug. He grabbed it as soon as it was in arms reach, taking huge gulps from it, like he had been starved. Or, more so dying of thirst. 

When he finished, you softly said, “Do you need help getting into bed?”

Stu shrugged, so you took that as a yes. You heaved him over your shoulder, supporting him up the stairs as he giggled the whole way. As you tucked him in, you swore you could hear something from down in the kitchen.

A phone’s ring.

-

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[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

hi! do you have any dead girl detectives thoughts? (either as genderbent edwin and charles or roleswap with niko and crystal, whichever floats your boat)

Do I! So I love the genderbent Dead Girl Detectives, but I'm partial to role swaps where Crystal and Niko are the teenage ghost detectives and Edwin and Charles are the humans that get adopted into their agency. Here's my version:

Crystal is a student at a boarding school in 1916 who ends up getting possessed by David the Demon. Her school chaplain calls in an exorcist and she ends up dying during the exorcism, getting dragged to Hell by David in the process. The school covers up her death and she's written off as a runaway.

She escapes Hell in 1989, finds herself back at her old boarding school, and stumbles upon Niko in an attic. Niko is dying after being possessed by dandelion sprites. Crystal keeps her company until she dies, expecting Niko to move on to her afterlife. Instead, Niko decides to stay.

Niko is obsessed with detective shows, so she comes up with the idea to start the Dead Girl Detective Agency. They keep the dandelion sprites that killed her in a jar on their desk, despite Crystal's many threats to drown them.

David is a much more active antagonist than Edwin's demon in canon. He pops up throughout the decades, causing trouble for Crystal and Niko and trying to use Crystal to get back to Hell.

Charles is a psychic who comes into their (after)lives about 30 years later. He gets caught up in some kind of supernatural danger, they save him, and he sticks around, declaring himself the brawn.

One of Charles's visions brings them to Port Townsend, where they save Becky Aspen from Esther and meet Edwin, a student at Gray Wake.

After getting caught in the crossfire of Esther trying to retaliate against the Dead Girl Detectives (and Charles), Edwin starts being able to see ghosts. Charles immediately has heart eyes over him, Niko adopts him as her new best friend, and Crystal is not a fan (she's totally not jealous of how close he gets to Niko within days of meeting her. Totally not.)

I don't see the Cat King pulling the same tricks with Crystal or Niko that he tried on Edwin, so I think what would keep them in Port Townsend is knowing that if they leave, Esther is just going to start killing little girls again.

David also follows them to Port Townsend and maybe even teams up with Esther, because I think they would hate each other and it would be fun.

Meanwhile, Crystal starts to realize she's been in love with Niko for over thirty years and oh no time to have a bisexual crisis.

When David succeeds in dragging Crystal back to Hell, Niko goes to find her. (She has to lock Edwin and Charles in a closet to stop them from following her. They may or may not make out while in said closet.)

Crystal confesses her feelings on the staircase out of Hell and Niko tells her she's been in love with her for years.

They get back to Port Townsend and Esther promptly kidnaps Charles and Edwin to feed them to her snake (they're not little girls, but they're young and killing them will hurt Crystal and Niko, so they'll do.) Crystal and Niko go after them and Lilith conveniently pops up to drag Esther off.

When Charles, Crystal, and Niko return to London, Edwin comes with them, because he thinks becoming a supernatural detective (and having Charles within snogging distance) is far more interesting than anything he could learn in school.

(Jenny, Tragic Mick, and the Night Nurse are just as they are in canon. The Cat King is still in the background, being his trickster god self and offering occasional tidbits of advice for dealing with Esther.)

[rhondafromhr]

Max and Steph roleswap AU where Steph’s the school bully/self-proclaimed God of Hatchetfield High. She started dictating what everyone can and can’t do and who’s cool and who’s a nerd and whether Kyle can date Brenda (the answer’s still no, by the way!) to gain a sense of control. Solomon scrutinizes her every move and doesn’t let her do ANYTHING that might make him look remotely bad and affect his reelection prospects. Her mom dissapeared after winning the Honey Queen pageant (but as far as Steph knows she just up and left). She has absolutely no control in her home life and had to find it elsewhere.

Do you see my vision?? We’d get a sapphic Stephgrace version of Dirty Girl. We’d get Mariah as the villain. She’s the star QB. To impress the high school football obsessed voters, Solomon forced her to either do that or cheer. It turned out she was actually really good at it and she started getting praise and admiration for once (she also gets none of that at home). Between that and being the mayor’s daughter, nobody can stand up to her. Kyle and Jason are her lackeys. Kyle still gets punched in the face for calling Grace a two bagger. Max is around and he’s like “no, I agree with Steph, Grace is kinda cute” he gets decked in the face too because he BETTER not be thinking of asking her out (poor Jason has to carry them both out).

Max is still a jock, but he plays a sport nobody at Hatchetfield High really cares about (idk lacrosse maybe), so he’s more of a fringe cool kid. Not having the power over the school he has in canon, he had to find a different way to cope with his Whole Deal so became more apathetic and adopted a cool/tough guy persona instead. He usually manages to fly under the radar, but Steph does pick on him occasionally - she copes with Solomon constantly insulting her intelligence by doing the same thing to others and Max “I’m so fuckin’ scared of skele-uhns” Jägerman is an easy mark. Kyle usually joins in out of desperation for Steph’s approval. Jason will too, but only when the others pressure him into it.

Max needs to get his grades up or he’ll be kicked off the team, so he cheats off one of the nerds, gets caught and eventually asks them to tutor him. Doesn’t matter which one, pick your poison depending on which ship or friendship you want to be the Lautski of this universe. I’m gonna make it platonic and say Richie because I love their potential friendship dynamic, I love aroace Richie and I love treating friendships with the same narrative weight as romantic relationships. Steph says hell no, the Pasqualli’s incident happens and Grace convinces them all to plan the prank.

Of course, Steph wouldn’t fall for it like Max did. She realizes what they they’re up to almost immediately, but she’s still delighted. She finds it kind of funny and endearing that they thought they could scare her with cheap costumes and creepy music. She likes that they planned the prank to get her to change her ways because it means they still think she has the potential to be good. Then she falls and they do Grace’s bury the body plan, but this is the mayor’s daughter and the police can’t write it off like they do most disappearances in Hatchetfield so they’re hot on their trail.

Also, I’m losing it thinking about how powerful Solomon’s death would be. And how fucking scared Max would be during the summoning.