#redux au

[archer-world]

someday i'll create a Dice design I like

but this will do for now

[strangeaxel]

Pd2 is just so amazed at how normal paradise is in Pd1 universe-- even if pd1 cant see it that way

slightly alt colors version down here:

[1425fivefive]

if you ever wanna write a follow up to the carcar piercing prompt I’d love to read about oscar’s first orgasm after the piercing 🫣

i did this for you 💕 (and @imitationbananas who also requested it) carcar piercing au sequel with a bit of denial and overstimulation as a treat! (spiritually for the kink prompt asks)

“Is it healed?” Oscar whispers. He’s looking down at Carlos with wide eyes, his pussy dripping with arousal centimeters from Carlos’s mouth.

Carlos wants to tell Oscar yes. Wants to suck Oscar’s swollen clit into his mouth and taste Oscar for the first time in six weeks, give Oscar his first orgasm in just as long. Carlos knows Oscar’s desperate for it. His pussy’s puffy and wet, clit peeking out from underneath its pierced hood.

But the piercing adorning Oscar’s clit is still slightly pink and Carlos doesn’t want to risk anything. Not when Oscar’s healing so beautifully, the piercing gorgeously straight, centered right above Oscar’s clit.

“One more week, cariño,” Carlos murmurs, pressing an apologetic kiss to Oscar’s thigh. “Then you can come.”

Oscar whimpers, pussy throbbing right in front of Carlos’s eyes, practically begging for Carlos’s mouth, his tongue. Carlos moans at the sight, warm breath ghosting over Oscar, and Oscar keens at the feeling, tipping his head back against the pillows.

“Please,” Oscar whispers. “Please, Carlos, I can’t—I need—”

Oscar almost never begs and it takes everything in Carlos to pull away, to not give in and suck Oscar’s pretty clit into his mouth. But Carlos manages to pull Oscar’s briefs up his legs, covering his pussy. Oscar lets out a devastated whimper and Carlos presses a soft kiss to Oscar’s underwear, right over his clit. It makes Oscar’s eyes fill with tears and Carlos has to climb up the bed and tug Oscar into his arms, smoothing his hand over Oscar’s hair, murmuring soft words.

Carlos gives it another two weeks, just to be safe.

Oscar’s almost crawling out of his skin by then, casting mournful, pleading looks at Carlos around the flat. Carlos catches Oscar looking wistfully at the drawer of vibrators in the bedroom, like he’s imagining how good it would feel pressed against his clit.

Carlos feels guilty every time he gets off, but he feels like he’s never been more turned on in his life, unbearably aroused by the sight of Oscar wanting and needy, clearly desperate to come. Carlos can’t even imagine how awful it must feel, Oscar’s underwear brushing against his oversensitive clit, just enough stimulation to keep him aroused but never enough to come. Oscar leaks through at least one pair of underwear a day and Carlos keeps having to do the laundry, trying not to give in to the temptation to bury his nose in Oscar’s panties.

Seven-and-a-half weeks after the piercing, Carlos finds Oscar in the kitchen washing dishes at the sink. Carlos crowds in behind him, nosing at Oscar’s neck. “This weekend, I think,” Carlos murmurs.

Oscar doesn’t need to ask what Carlos means, a shudder running through him, a moan slipping from his lips. The dish Oscar’s holding splashes into the sink as he grips the counter, clearly trying to steady himself.

Finally, Oscar asks, voice ragged, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Carlos breathes, gripping Oscar’s hips in his hand, tugging Oscar back against him, letting Oscar feel his cock, thick and hard in his jeans.

“Carlos,” Oscar gasps, but he rolls his hips, grinding back against Carlos.

Carlos moans and presses one last kiss to Oscar’s neck before stepping away, leaving Oscar in the kitchen with a dazed expression on his face, cheeks flushed.

—

Oscar wakes Carlos up unbearably early on Saturday, but Carlos forgives him the moment he sees the desperate expression on Oscar’s face.

“Come here,” Carlos murmurs, laying Oscar back on the pillows. “Let me check.”

Oscar goes obediently, spreading his thighs.

He’s wearing white briefs and he’s soaked through them, so wet that they’re sticking to Oscar’s pussy, almost translucent. Carlos can see the outline of Oscar’s lips through them, the little piercing in his clit just visible through the fabric.

“Oscar,” Carlos breathes, marveling at the sight in front of him.

But Oscar whimpers, hips hitching toward Carlos. “You promised.”

“Yes,” Carlos says, huffing a laugh. “I did.”

He tugs Oscar’s panties down his legs, moaning at the slow reveal of Oscar’s cunt, pink and hairless and smooth.

“Oscar,” Carlos breathes, tossing Oscar’s panties to the floor. “When did you—”

“I wanted—” Oscar breaks off on a shaky moan, spreading his legs further. “I got it waxed.”

Carlos can’t deny that the sight has his mouth watering, every part of Oscar on display for him, stripped bare, the jewels framing Oscar’s clit standing out even more. But Carlos can’t help asking, “And they were—careful?”

Oscar nods and Carlos trusts him, so Carlos just moans and says, “Beautiful, Oscar.”

Oscar gasps at that, his cunt clenching.

“You like hearing that, no?” Carlos asks, smiling softly. “Hearing what a pretty pussy you have?”

Oscar flushes, whimpers, but he nods, spreading his thighs wider.

“Good boy,” Carlos murmurs, dragging his eyes to the piercing. It looks healed, ready to play with, but Carlos can’t resist drawing it out a little bit longer.

“Tell me, Oscar,” Carlos says idly, still staring at Oscar’s pussy. “How many times do you think I could make you come?”

Oscar moans, thighs twitching. “Carlos.”

“Tell me,” Carlos continues, bringing a hand up to drag his thumb over the skin just to the side of Oscar’s pussy lips, watching as Oscar’s clit twitches. “Give me a number.”

“I don’t know,” Oscar says. “Maybe—five?”

Carlos hums. “I am thinking maybe seven.”

“Carlos,” Oscar gasps.

With that, Carlos leans forward, dragging his tongue over Oscar’s clit, watching Oscar closely for his reaction.

Oscar’s mouth drops open, eyes going wide, and he lets out a high, panicked cry as Carlos’s tongue presses the jewelry firmly against his clit.

“Oh,” Oscar gasps, fingers scrabbling at the bedsheets, staring down at Carlos with a frantic expression. “Oh, it’s too—I can’t—Carlos.”

Carlos sucks Oscar’s clit into his mouth, moaning at the texture of the piercing under his tongue, running his tongue over it, tasting Oscar for the first time in months. He’s so lost in Oscar’s taste, his scent, his noises, that Carlos doesn’t notice Oscar’s coming until he hears a hitched, “Oh,” above him and feels Oscar’s body start trembling in his hands, clit twitching rapidly in Carlos’s mouth, wetness flooding Carlos’s chin. 

Carlos moans at the feeling of Oscar falling apart for the first time in weeks on his tongue, brought to his peak by the press of the piercing against his sensitive clit. The piercing Carlos gave him. That Oscar begged him for. Carlos whines at the thought, sucking harder, and Oscar lets out a choked scream, pussy pulsing under Carlos’s tongue, like maybe he’s coming again, still.

“Carlos,” Oscar whimpers, shaking against the sheets. “Oh, please, too much, I can’t—”

But Oscar makes no move to push Carlos away and Carlos stays where he is, pressed firmly against Oscar’s cunt, Oscar’s clit caught between his lips, running his tongue over Oscar’s piercing. Carlos drags him to two more devastating orgasms, Oscar gasping and whining and whimpering, legs kicking out, hands grabbing at Carlos’s hair, Carlos’s shoulders, the sheets. Like he’s desperately trying to ground himself, overwhelmed by the pleasure being dragged out of him.

Carlos only pulls away when Oscar starts shoving at Carlos’s head.

Carlos blinks up at him, licking Oscar’s arousal off his lips. After a moment, Carlos can’t help but ask, “I think a vibrator would feel good, no?”

“Carlos,” Oscar says, huffing out a disbelieving laugh, limp against the sheets.

It’s not a no and Carlos reaches over for the drawer, pulling out the little bullet vibe Oscar’s always loved.

Oscar shivers when he sees it, thighs twitching together like he’s thinking about trying to push Carlos away.

But Carlos shoves his way between them, dragging his cock over Oscar’s pussy. They won’t need lube, not with the way Oscar’s dripping onto the bed. If Carlos has his way, Oscar will be getting even wetter before the morning’s through.

When Carlos drags the tip of his cock against Oscar’s piercing, Oscar whimpers.

“Do you want something?” Carlos asks, trying to sound casual despite the arousal coursing through him.

“Please,” Oscar whispers.

“Ask me,” Carlos murmurs. “Ask me, Oscar and I’ll give it to you.”

Oscar moans at that, cheeks flushing. But he hooks his hands behind his knees and pulls them up toward his chest, spreading himself wide, putting his gorgeous cunt on display for Carlos.

“Fuck me,” Oscar says, blinking up at Carlos. He takes a shaky breath and adds, the flush on his cheeks darkening, “Fuck my pretty pussy, Carlos. Please.”

Carlos lets out a shocked moan and he fucks forward, burying himself in Oscar, letting out a long, desperate whine at the feeling of Oscar’s wet heat around him.

“So good, cariño,” Carlos moans, starting to fuck Oscar slow and steady and precise. “Missed your pussy so much.”

“Carlos,” Oscar whines, heels digging into Carlos’s arse, urging him on.

After a few moments, Carlos reaches for the vibrator on the bed beside them, turning it on to the lowest setting.

Oscar whimpers at the sound, but his cunt pulses around Carlos, everything going even wetter.

“I think you will like this,” Carlos murmurs, and brings the vibrator to Oscar’s clit.

Oscar reacts like he’s been shocked, mouth dropping open, thighs jerking against his hands.

“Yes?” Carlos asks, pressing the vibrator firmly against him. “It feels good, no?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Oscar gasps, but he’s fucking himself back on Carlos’s cock, staring up at Carlos with a desperate expression, pussy clenching around Carlos’s cock.

“I think you are going to come,” Carlos says softly, fucking Oscar at exactly the same pace and speed, keeping the vibrator pressed to his clit. “Let it out, cariño.”

Oscar opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, like he’s about to say he can’t come, but then his eyes are fluttering, mouth dropping open, pussy twitching rapidly around Carlos’s cock.

“Oh,” Oscar gasps, staring up at Carlos with a shocked expression, almost confused by the fact that he’s coming. “Oh, I didn’t—” He breaks off on a high moan, twisting against the sheets, gasping and crying out when Carlos keeps the vibrator pressed against him.

“That’s it, Oscar,” Carlos murmurs. “Come for me.”

Oscar keeps coming, twitching and gasping, cries going high and panicked as Carlos pushes him over into overstimulation.

But Carlos wants to see—he thinks he can—

“Carlos,” Oscar sobs. “Carlos, please, I don’t—I’m going to—oh.”

Oscar seizes up, eyes squeezing shut, mouth caught open on a silent scream. And then he’s squirting around Carlos’s cock, wetness flooding from Oscar’s pussy, soaking Carlos’s cock, the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” Oscar gasps, even as he shivers through his orgasm. “I didn’t mean to—fuck.”

Carlos just moans, dropping the vibrator to the sheets, leaning down to capture Oscar’s mouth in a desperate kiss.

It presses Carlos’s lower belly right against Oscar’s piercing, and Carlos can tell Oscar’s coming again, moaning and gasping into Carlos’s mouth, more wetness flooding the sheets.

“Carlos,” Oscar whimpers. “I didn’t mean—”

“Good boy,” Carlos moans, fucking Oscar hard and deep, finally chasing his own orgasm. “Coming for me exactly like I wanted.”

Oscar gasps, clenching around Carlos.

“That’s it,” Carlos murmurs, right on the edge. “That’s it, Oscar, make it tight for me.”

Oscar whimpers and Carlos buries himself inside Oscar, coming with a hitched cry of Oscar’s name.

Carlos stays inside Oscar for a few more moments, panting as he comes down. Finally, he starts to pull out, planning to go to the bathroom and grab a towel to wipe Oscar down.

But Oscar whines, wrapping a leg around Carlos’s thigh, tugging him back.

“Wait,” Oscar whispers. “You didn’t—you promised me seven.”

Carlos’s chest aches and he can’t resist bring a thumb down to brush over Oscar’s clit, pushing a weak moan out of him.

“Yes,” Carlos says softly. “I think I did.”

[aceinacloset]

You're their friend...

[emberglowfox]

subnautica au i roll around in my brain for fun

[delimeful]

how easy you are to need (redux) (7)

warnings: misunderstandings, feeling trapped, unhealthy thoughts about an assumed situation, death and injury mention, discussion of debts, unreliable narrator, virgil horribly misinterpreting yet another normal conversation, literally embarrassing levels of thick-headedness

-

Letting his guard down around the humans was far, far easier than it should have been.

He still eased his defenses down slowly, bit by bit, of course, he wasn’t a complete fool. An understanding between him and Patton didn’t necessarily mean that the others felt the same.

They were humans, not shifters, after all, and while he could see the shape of a pack in their closeness, that didn’t mean he could assume the same principles would apply. They all took on equal responsibilities in maintaining and protecting their home, and none of the three had shown any particular indication that they were a designated envoy, meant to speak for the entire pack.

Frankly, with it only being the three of them, a lack of envoy wouldn’t have been too surprising even if they had been shifters. Some smaller packs forewent assigned roles, rotating them as needed, or were close-knit enough that they essentially acted as one whole, any individual able to speak for the pack.

The humans loved to bicker, though, and it would have been like a slap in the face to trust in Patton’s promise and then have them argue about it right in front of him. Instead, Virgil tested the firmness of the new ground he’d been offered with slow, tentative steps, like a deer crossing over a frozen lake. Better to take his time and test the ice than plunge right through.

Irritatingly, the humans made it far too easy for him to forget how precarious his standing was.

Even the simplest of interactions seemed to please them. When he’d responded to Patton’s friendly greeting for the first time, the morning after their midnight conversation, the human’s expression had lit up like a lightning bug at dusk. When he’d finally answered one of Logan’s questions during a meal, the scholar had blinked a few times in quiet surprise before smiling in a way that made his entire face look softer. When he’d pursed his lips and snapped out a sharp retort to something annoying Roman had said, the hunter hadn’t hesitated to needle him right back with friendly delight, the same as he did with the other two.

They were keeping him trapped here, because they were human and they knew better than to let a monster roam free in the woods around their home, but they didn’t want a starved prisoner or a ticket to easy riches. They wanted to offer him comfort and belonging in the time that he had left.

He’d saved them, and they were repaying it in the only way they could afford to.

It was pathetic, how relieved he felt. How genuinely grateful he was for the simple fact that he wasn’t being forced to relive the unending torment of his first imprisonment. How such basic offerings of food and warmth and companionship made it possible to ignore or even briefly forget about the executioner’s axe hoisted over his head.

He’d been on his own for a long time. Returning to that solitude would be its own kind of death, a slow and painful relearning of what it meant to be alone. He knew this, but tried not to dwell on it. He’d survived it once before, and he would again. Better to endure the loneliness than lose the safety of isolation.

So, he forced himself to keep focusing on methods of escape, on the ways this slowly-growing camaraderie would offer lapses in security, on the new freedoms he could take advantage of, and didn’t think about what he would do afterwards.

With this goal in mind, he immediately decided to test his luck by poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He’d regained some mobility after another week of healing, though he kept his walking pace to a slow shuffle out of caution, and the humans still tended to hover like agitated honeybees whenever he was on his feet for too long. The cabin was small enough that he had mapped out most of it within a day or two, and now he approached the only room he hadn’t yet entered or peered into.

When he pushed the door of Logan’s workspace open, the human’s head snapped up immediately, wearing the beginnings of a frown. Once he saw that it was Virgil who stood in the doorway, though, the displeased turn of his lips faded away, replaced by eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Hello,” he said, voice polite despite the interruption. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Of the three of them, Logan had been the most respectful in his formality, and so Virgil impulsively tested the bounds of that patience by not answering right away, instead letting his gaze drift over the room and its contents.

There were far more plants scattered about than he’d expected, though perhaps he should have expected as much from the dedication Logan tended his garden with. Pots of different shapes and sizes were settled on every inch of the window ledges, and planters hung from shelves and hooks on the ceiling alike. There was an entire corner of the room dedicated to racks of drying herbs and flowers, both wild and homegrown, which lent the room a pleasant dusty floral smell that almost covered up the sting of ink and chemicals.

There was a table against one wall, the shelves around it packed full with bottles of miscellaneous ingredients, all of them labeled in neat handwriting. The table itself was covered in neatly-organized supplies, with protective sigils carefully carved into the outer edge of the wood, keeping any experimentation contained. It stank less than he’d thought it would, for human magecraft, but then he hadn’t yet seen Logan doing any of the typical dissection and harvesting of supernatural creatures, either.

After the full moon, it would have the bitter tang of magic made through unwilling sacrifice, the distant preserved rot of bottled blood. Virgil would recognize the stench of post-harvest ingredients anywhere. Not that he’d be there to smell it, at that point. He forcibly pulled his attention away.

The last section of the room was less orderly than the rest, primarily due to the heaps of books that were stacked and shoved wherever there was space. Logan’s desk was the only semi-clear spot, and even that had a few precarious book towers sitting atop or alongside it. It was also covered in stacks of parchment, with lines and lines of writing or intricate diagrams sketched on the paper.

Logan sat behind it, still awaiting a response, those keen eyes watching him right back.

There was no sign of the lodestone for the ward around the cabin at first glance. He had known better than to think it would be that easy, though.

He hadn’t known that he would actually get this far, assuming that they wouldn’t want their magic prisoner sticking his nose in the most likely place to find a way out of their wards. Even Roman and Patton didn’t tend to disturb Logan too often when he was working in this space, so he’d assumed he’d only get a few moments to glance around at best.

“You haven’t been to the leyline crossing,” he said, because the silence had begun to grow awkward and he’d panicked and they really hadn’t, even though it was well past the usual time of the month they went.

Logan’s stare sharpened, which was probably a bad sign, but he only stood up to clear the books off of a second chair, and gestured for him to sit.

This had been a bad idea. Virgil slunk forward with extreme reluctance and sat.

“We haven’t,” Logan answered affirmatively as he returned to his seat, adjusting his spectacles. “It didn’t seem wise to venture into the woods, seeing as that is where the bear headed, last we saw it.”

That was… a really good reason, actually. Virgil shuddered at even the idea of them running into that creature again in the dead of night, without him to help.

“I take it that you’ve been familiar with us for a while, then, since you know of our routine offerings?” Logan continued, sounding more curious than angry.

Virgil froze up, regardless. He should have known better than to hope he could make it through a conversation without giving anything away. He hadn’t even managed to make it through the first sentence.

“I am not upset,” Logan offered, glancing down at the open book before him in a gesture that seemed designed to give Virgil a moment to breathe. “On the contrary, I am… rather relieved, to have my suspicions confirmed.”

“Relieved?” Virgil echoed dubiously, his voice a low croak. It tended to go raspy and hoarse if he wasn’t focusing on speaking, probably the result of not using his human vocal cords to speak to anyone in literal years.

“Indeed,” Logan answered. “I will admit, my initial impression of you was made hastily. We had never seen you before, and yet you didn’t hesitate to defend us, and you earned a significant injury in the process. It was worrying to unexpectedly incur such a debt.”

Virgil managed to shove aside his embarrassment in favor of confusion. It was strange to mention a debt, especially one owed to a shifter. Humans didn’t consider shifters worth trading with in any fashion, in his experience, and even other supernatural beings knew that wolves weren’t fond of holding debts or grudges. Really, the way Logan spoke about it sounded more like…

“You see, I was aware that it is rather rare for a shifter to reveal themself to humans for any length of time, as I’m sure you know, and I was also aware that the fair folk are often deft hands at taking on wild shapes of their own, particularly when interacting with humans, so…” Logan trailed off, looking a bit flustered at the admission.

“You thought I was fae,” Virgil completed the thought, feeling a bit taken aback at the idea. He certainly would have done a fair bit more against that bear if he’d had the sort of natural power that faeries so often courted.

Of course, things also would have turned out a lot worse for the humans if he’d been a fae, more likely than not. Humans who had fallen under the attention of one of the fair folk frequently met an unfortunate end because of it. Whether the faery in question was maliciously fixated or lovingly obsessed, the human would be lucky to come out irrevocably changed. They’d be lucky to come out alive at all.

“It was a working hypothesis,” Logan said primly, turning a page in his book despite the fact that he almost definitely hadn’t been reading while they spoke. “It was disproven easily enough, and so my precautions weren’t needed in the first place, but seeing as my haste has gotten me and those around me in trouble before, I thought it best to perform them anyhow.”

Precautions? Patton had said that Virgil saved his life, if not all of theirs. To the fae, a life debt like that could only be paid off one way, whether they’d been tricked into it or not.

Oh. He had wondered why Logan had been so uncharacteristically careless before, carrying an agitated and injured shifter back with its teeth only a handspan from his neck. If Virgil had been fae, if he’d chosen differently and torn out Logan’s throat, that would have been the end of any debt between him and the others. A life paid for a life owed.

“Did you run that plan by the others, first?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Logan waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to pretend at regret. “They traveled out here on my behalf, in the first place. To let them suffer for my mistakes would be a poor repayment.”

From what he knew of them, Virgil thought Patton and Roman would disagree. Loudly.

“…Right,” said Virgil, in his most dubious tone. “On your behalf?”

“I’m cursed,” Logan explained shortly. “I don’t have the constitution required to perform magework without damaging my health. It was intended to make me choose between my health and my passion, but I was willing to give up neither, and found a third option: proximity to powerful natural magic, which would prevent spellwork from being as taxing.”

“Huh.” It was a clever solution. Logan might have been the one to propose their solution to Virgil, too. Offering a shifter a peaceful last few weeks certainly wasn’t an option he would have expected from any normal humans.

Right. He’d almost forgotten that his plan had been to push against the boundaries of his cage, to force them to acknowledge that he was stuck here, to remind himself that no amount of kind company was worth the pain of how this month would inevitably end.

“Well, you don’t owe me anything,” he said, a little too sharply. “And in that case, there’s no point in me staying.”

Logan sat up straight, posture stiffening as he frowned. “You’re still far from healed. I understand why you don’t wish to shift, but surely, leaving is a bad idea for the same reason?”

There it was. In the end, that was the biggest flaw in the arrangement the humans had come up with. If Virgil attacked them or tried to leave, they’d be forced to kill him immediately. He would lose, but so would they; killing him in his human form would make his corpse far, far less valuable.

“You’re only making things more difficult on yourself,” Virgil told him, crossing his arms as tightly as he could without jarring his wound. “I’m not fae. There’s no worth in being hospitable to me.”

It certainly wasn’t going to convince him to stop trying to escape. He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t that pathetic. Honestly, it’d probably be easier for everyone if they just cut their losses and killed him now.

Logan closed his book, folded his hands over it, and met Virgil’s eyes squarely. “We offered you our hospitality because we wanted to. It is freely given, no matter the ease or difficulty involved.”

Virgil couldn’t help the way his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. That implied that they would keep on offering him this kindness even if he did get caught attempting to escape.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t ever been truly punished for that first desperate sprint to the wards, had he? None of the things he’d believed to be threats or punishments had ever panned out the way he’d assumed. Ultimately, they hadn’t so much as directly scolded him about the escape attempt, as though the act was hardly surprising. He hadn’t been drugged, and he still wasn’t guarded.

He couldn’t be certain unless he got caught again, but… the signs were all there. They were confident enough in their cage to indulge him even when he was caught gnawing at the bars. They were underestimating him.

“Don’t blame me if you regret it later,” he said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the disbelieving half smile creeping onto his lips.

Logan returned his smile with an encouraging one of his own, apparently unfazed by Virgil’s renewed determination. “I very much doubt I will.”

He snorted and left the human to his work, not cowed at all by the arrogance. Logan could doubt all he liked. Virgil had beaten much worse odds before.

[danthropologie]

Lisa Marie Basile, Andalucía

[pianokantzart]

Super Mario Bros Redux pt. 5 preview

[sketch-twentytwo]

This is why you’re banned from the Invention Convention Mel.

[feliner]

batch of dragons! (and yes, this au's galaxia is a dragon because my house i do what i want <333)

[archer-world]

older devil akki and jester (Minna) and their adoptive parents

3-star Units are under the age of 12, at 7-9yo on average. Because of the way they were coded, they do not have official parental ties to any other character in GW. Some Units have taken some 3-star Units under their care and after the First Corruption Event Treaty, they were given the rights to raise child Units as official parents.

Devil Akki (she/her) is inspired by the Jacobs sheep, a species known for irregular horn patterns

Jester (they/she) is inspired by messenger Jesters/Fools and works as a town crier for Gacha Woods

Both grew up around each other and became fast friends, then partners in crime and always get into trouble

[strangeaxel]

Omg selfcest with yourself from another reality!!!!1!2! (I've never shipped selfcest this is the first time....my life's going to weird directions)

Note: Idk what's the name of the ship so if y'all have it let me now. I've seen in a tumblr account that is called "postal 12" but idk!! So let me know.

[drops-of-moonlights]

here have a random Dia

[aceinacloset]

Pov. Your William afton burning 🔥

[royalrebelpropaganda]

whatever you do don’t think about a “they all sign” AU where briar has to sleep for one hundred years. don’t think about apple leaving out a spot for her at her wedding and don’t think about faybelle being listless with fulfillment and don’t think about her brothers missing her and don’t think about the fact that when she wakes up she will try to find her brothers and she will find their grandchildren, who are older than her.

[redux-robotix-llc]

REDUX ROBOTIX AU

Masterlist for all things Captain Underpants: Redux Robotix LLC AU! (Run by Sketch-22!)

-> Introduction to the AU <-

But TL;DR, Five-year-old George Beard gets bumped to the 3rd grade when he first enrolls at Jerome Horwitz Elementary School (as mentioned in Book 9). Due to this, George and Harold never meet in Kindergarten and, as a result, George becomes a sole, anonymous prankster, Harold Hutchins remains a quiet and timid artist, and Melvin Sneedly, witnessing the failures of the American school system via Harold getting bullied, becomes disillusioned with authority and begins inventing recklessly.

Chaos ensues from there!

————

BLOG STATUS: WIP ASK BOX STATUS: CLOSED REQUEST STATUS: CLOSED

————

Character Profiles (Under Construction)

George Beard

Harold Hutchins

Melvin Sneedly

Benjamin Krupp

????

????

Lunch Lady Edith

Redux Robotix Comix

Office Visit | Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Pt.9, Pt.10.

Invention Convention | Banned, Explanation, Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, School Sign, etc.

Miscellaneous Arts

Redux Robotix Trio

Hanging Out

Extra Extra!

Busted

Melvin Sketches

Trio Sketches

Krupp Sketches

Professor P Sketches