#though needed a little references for the little clothing that is visible

[rizardofether]

Who am I?

An idea that started with me thinking about a game idea made in the style of a visual novel in a fantasy setting centered around a kingdom's noble families. Political intrigue and mystery.

The player character would be created in the beginning, dollmaker-style since it would be in 2D. The race, appearance, outfit and noble family would be chosen in the CC, each race having a couple different options.

The game would start with you waking up in a bedroom. The game tells you that you are not the character you've just made but are instead a regular person who ended up in that body, whether that is meant to be you as in the player or the POV character themself is left unclear.

The intro is your attendant, who they are depends on the noble family that was chosen, coming to your room, finding out you have no memories, and explaining that you were in an accident, likely being the cause for the memory loss. You get to choose your character's first name, and personality traits they used to have before the incident.

The gameplay would then be you attempting to act in a way the chosen character would act to not raise suspicion while investigating the cause of the incident, finding it suspicious. The run would end with you figuring out who caused it and finding a way to make them face justice.

The player could then start a new playthrough with a new character. The incidents and events would be varied but the backstory of the character being someone who just woke up in this body remains consistent.

As you play more and more and discover new secrets, you start to find out about the POV character, that they are indeed meant to be their own character and not just a stand-in for the player. They begin to awaken vague memories about their life before, and eventually realize they remember each of the playthroughs of the game, being stuck in a type of timeloop, with the character they end up possessing being different each time.

Their memories of their original self being very vague and the many roles they take in the game leading to an identity crisis. The true endings relating to the player character themself would likely have multiple options, good, bad, neutral.

This whole idea going out of control inspired me to draw the poor Player Character, which is the name I will be referring to them as, if I ever return to this idea. It was a fun experiment.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Passion for Fashion Part 2

Danny glances around the room, initially supposed to be the living room, but Dan had quickly turned it into a studio. He had fabrics stacked everywhere, random clothes designs pinned to the walls, and various-sized mannequins scattered about with half-finished projects.

"It looks like Joann Craft's store exploded in here" he grumbles side-stepping into a half-finished gown dress and ducking under rows of fabric swatches that Dan just has to hang across the whole house by color because they help him visualize.

Or some nonsense like that.

Frankly, Danny was starting to suspect Dan had developed a new ghost Obsession now that grief no longer blinded him, and he knew Clockwork made it deliberately fashion design.

He is a bit unsettled that Dan's tunnel vision mirrors his parent's obsession with ghost hunting. Is it a ghost Obsession thing or a Fenton thing? Even Jazz can't get sucked into her physiology studies, so he had to remind her to sleep and eat. Eventually, Danny will find his own tunnel vision obsession. He just knows it.

Ducking two more times to avoid the shades of blue and green, Danny follows the barely visible pathway to where Dan is likely working on the first suit for the competition's first catwalk.

The first round of the competition was a mere selection round, where contestants were all brought into a large room and given a sketchbook, pencils, colors pencils, and reference books. After the surprise judge gave them the theme of household pets, they were to design two male and female outfits within an hour. Dan had entered the testing room like a man sent to the front lines.

Danny hadn't been needed for that round, so he explored Gotham, stopping to eat the famous Batburger. The food was far tastier than Nasty Burger, and he felt like he was betraying his city by how much he savored the Joker fries.

He did notice the way everyone was staring at him, much to his shame, just as he was licking his fingers clean. He scrambled to leave as a few teens whispered, gesturing to him.

He had been in Casper High to know that usually meant insults, so when a pretty blond girl stood up and started for him, he made haste to get out of there as quickly as possible.

He met up with Dan- with a carryout bag because he wasn't a monster- and found the other had blown the competition out of the water. His designs were first in the selection round, and Dan's head got three sizes bigger that day.

It's strange how used to living here he's gotten. It's been a month and a half, and yes, people still stare at him a lot, but it's not like Danny isn't used to being called a freak, so he ignores them all. Dan tried to stay inside the house as much as possible, rarely leaving his fabrics, but Danny felt restless being indoors all the time.

Amity Park is a small city, with most of it being open space and grass he felt strange being surrounded by a loud, crowded city like Gotham. He often wandered about trying to find something new and fun, though that was hard to do once the sun started setting.

He found being outside at night was a terrible idea the first time a trio of men attempted to shove him into a van.

Thankfully, Danny had been bored enough he recreated some of his parents' gadgets, and the three men had been stunned by his Fenton Tazzer wristband before they had opened the van door. Then there was that time a group of toddlers tried to mug him. He had been trying to find a park or something when seven kids- couldn't be older than twelve- all creeped out of the shadows holding knives and bats and demanded he gave them his wallet.

Danny hadn't meant to, but it was so bizarre he had bursted out laughing. He was so used to ghosts that the sight of little kids trying to be threatening was so historical that he couldn't stop laughing. He also forgot to breathe for a second since coming to this world. His body needed less sleep, less food, and got less tired, which was a plus on their wallets.

Danny laughed so hard he fell to his knees, shaking with jest.

The kids scattered at once, a few shouting, "Joker venom!" he was left chuckling to himself. After that, he got up and went home, the occasional snicker slipping from his lips.

Dan had thought it was hilarious, too.

Despite the time they have been here and Danny's many outings, they haven't really interacted with anyone else. Danny had never been one to have positive memories with socializing, and Dan frankly disliked humans too much to want to be around them.

With nothing to do but wander during the day and practice his model walk, Danny quickly got into the habit of tinkering with various machinery. At first, he needed to rebuild his parent's weapons and ghost gear- something he had been able to do since he was seven- then he shifted to building whatever popped into his head.

From robotic prosthetics to a TV projector, Danny filled the hours with some eclectic in his hands. Otherwise, he looked around Gotham and took pictures of the architect because it was Sam's entire aesthetic. How could he not try to capture this place for her?

Dan had been researching through the house internet- thank the ancients the house came with the service- and found various styles he liked experimenting with. Due to his ghost abilities, he worked faster than the sewing machines and was dishing out whole outfits in matters of days instead of the months they usually take.

He has even been walking around in whatever Dan chose to make for him since he thought it would get him used to being seen in something not his usual style. He can't afford to lose the fashion show simply because he got awkward. That would ruin his plans to help Batman and get home.

His wardrobe now varied from what Dan called "eboy", "skater" "K-pop" "casual chic" "haute" and "streetwear". Personally, Danny preferred the streetwear since it was more often than not baggy.

He had a lot of people staring at him when he walked around in Dan's clothes. Danny hopes he doesn't look as dumb as he feels.

"Danny, come try this on!" Dan shouts, snapping Danny out of his thoughts. He gestured to a black and navy blue three-piece suit that took Danny's breath away.

"Wow, Dan, it's gorgeous."

"Duh, I made it brat." He gestures to the vest, which Danny can see painfully embroidered swirls of black, purple, and a few white strips. It did not take him long to recognize the Magellanic cloud resting on the right side while the left is a mirror design in black, carefully blending into the blue. The pants, jacket, and shoes were a nearly jet-black cloth that somehow looked like a liquid even when standing still, but what tied it all together was the black cape draping over the right shoulder. It was pinned in place by a metal piece shaped like a Sirius Star. "The first round is space theme, and lucky for us, I was obsessed with NASA as a kid."

"No, but honestly, can I keep this afterward?" Danny asks, reaching out to rub his hands on the fabric. "Wow this is soft"

"It's satin, of course; it's soft," Dan snorts. "And sure, if we win, it's yours. I don't care what happens to the clothes after I make them."

"How long did this take you to make?" Danny asks, turning it around and sporting more accurately placed constellations of the satellite galaxy. It was like a picture made of fabric, curling from the right to the back of the vest. He'll have to take the jacket off at some point to show that part off.

"Three days. Without sleep."

"That's insane Dan"

"No, you know what's insane? This place has different beauty standards. It's all about the goth and emo kids here. A few Victorian lads, too. Or frankly, a straight-up twink is hot."

"What?" Danny's brain buffers "That can't be right. I was bullied and so were my friends for looking like that."

"Trust me, the ideal body kept coming up as I researched fashion trends and ideas. Nerds are in here. "

"W-what do I do with knowledge?"

Dan's eyes flashed a dangerous green. "You put it to use on the walkway. This suit is designed to show you off, and the best part? It's your natural body; no need to highlight beefed-up muscles or a wide chest like Dash."

"Oh my ancients....Am I hotter than Dash? Then the top A-lister?"

Dan grins. "We got this competition in the bag."

Across Gotham, Tim is scrolling through GothamLive- the favorite plate form of all Gotham, beating even Twitter- and he's surprised to see it covered by the target of their latest mission. He's back at the cave running coms since he got dosed in fear toxin on the last big fight. It was not too bad but Bruce didn't want him doing anything too adrenaline-inducing for a least a month.

He would argue, but even he knew his hands still sometimes shook when he trained. So he was on comm duty listening in to all his family as they moved about Gotham.

It was a quiet night with only three muggings and one car thief so far, but Bruce wanted everyone connected just in case.

Tim figured he could check in on the meta twins and found Danny everywhere on Gotham's online platform.

People have been spotting him strut around Gotham looking drop-dead gorgeous, and everyone near their age group who was attracted to men was losing their minds over Danny Fenton.

Tim found a few of him in skater clothes and felt his face get slightly warmer. Okay, they are right. Danny certainly paints a pretty picture, but that's worrying.

A pretty meta? He could be snatched up by the worst of Gotham soon.

Tim will have to get close to keep an eye on him. You know, for the target's safety.

Dan is his identical twin, which means there are two beautiful boys out there. Tim thinks, checking over the twin's house location. It's thankfully on the outskirts of Gotham, where it's not exactly safe, but it sure as hell isn't Crime Alley. They should be okay as long as no one finds their home.

He choked on his coffee when a picture of Danny dressed like a K-pop star casually lodging on a chair drinking a coffee appears on his dash. Yeah, he can see how the guy ended up in modeling if he could make poses like that naturally.

"Red Robbin to everyone, we may want to keep an eye on the Fenton's. Don't want them taken by traffickers."

"Danny Fenton already fought off a kidnapping:" Jason responds in seconds with a slight sneer. His elder brother has always hated traffickers and rapists the most. " Some idiots tried to escape me by going into the Outskirts and saw Danny. They took their chance only to be taken out by the guy's tazer disguised as a bracelet."

He sends the family a photo of the incident, and Danny's unimpressed look at the three screaming men makes Tim's lips twitch. Maybe Gotham wasn't so different from Santa Prisca. Only someone used to danger so often found would be kidnapers annoying, and that island wasn't exactly the safest place to be.

Their mother died to get them out, after all.

"That's not all. He's also fought off three different gangs, none of the big players but enough to raise some brows," Babs adds, displaying a gang of Crime Alley kids running from a laughing Danny, a group of men and women wearing the red scorpion marks running from a laughing Danny and a second group of kids- slightly older but not older than Danny- all backing away from the ice Danny had encased himself in. "The first two he tricked into thinking Joker was about, and the last one he just froze himself until they got tired of shooting and went away."

"What about the other one?" Bruce asks.

"He doesn't leave the house, but he's been very active online. Mostly, he's looking up fashion articles or trends. Recently, his search is nothing but "What are twinks, and why are they hot?". I can't tell if that's a culture difference or if Dan is just weird."

"They are not trained," Damian says, an undertone of curiosity in his voice. "But they can defend themselves well and truly know their craft. Dan's designs for my animal theme challenge were exquisite. I will be commissioning the black German Shepherd suit he made. Ace and I will look divine at the next gala."

"I kind of want the bird dress," Steph cuts in with a chirp. "I know it's not purple, but it looked cool in concept. What bird breed did he pick for it?"

"It was the Lovebird," Damian answers. "Somehow his design was both elegant and accurate without seemingly childish as the bird it was based on."

Tim wonders if Damian may start to develop an interest in fashion or if he just appreciates drawings as an artist. "So should we be worried?"

"No. Fenton has unwillingly gathered too much attention online. People will notice if he disappears. Traffickers don't go for people that are easy to recognize." Jason sighs. "For now, they're safe, but not if Danny keeps wandering around like an easy target in those tailor outfits. He looks rich, even if it's only lower first class. That will attract a lot more muggings."

"Someone will have to get close to them-"

"I can do it!" Tim shouts, cutting off Bruce, then shrinks into his chair in mortification as the family chat dies. Trying to sound less eager, he hastily adds, "You know, since I'm benched. Light work to befriend the Fentons."

"Smooth Tim." Cass laughs over the coms with his other siblings snickering in the background, and sinks into his chair.

After a moment, Bruce sighs, "Alright, Tim, you can befriend one of them, but not until your turn to judge goes by. I don't want people claiming a conflict of interest there."

Hell yeah! Tim got the job!

"Of course, Bruce."

"And no flirting."

"Spoilsport"

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. cw food (they’re eating ice cream and reader enjoys *glass shatters* mint chocolate chip). fluff, established relationship, feelings etc. | wc 901, divider thanks to cafekitsune!

Sitting thigh to thigh with Satoru on a park bench not far from your home, the two of you decided to take a bit of leisure time to yourselves. The sweets in your hands were a must according to him and now that you’re sitting to enjoy them, you have to admit that he was correct.

“When I was eight, I told my mom I wanted to marry ice cream someday,” you sigh after scooping a spoonful in your mouth.

The anecdote makes you feel a little embarrassed to share though you recall it easily. Sitting next to her in her car, merrily enjoying the mint chocolate chip scoop topped cone in your little hand, on a day not entirely unlike the mid-spring one you’re enjoying now. You meant every word of it, as big of a lover back then as you are now, even for the inanimate and edible.

“You treat me like I’m ice cream sometimes so maybe you were right.”

He wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, the motion visible over the tops of his sunglasses. You giggle and playfully swat at him, careful to keep your cup and spoon steady. The reference to your pension for enjoying licking every inch of him (as if he doesn’t have the same proclivities...) you possibly can warms your cheeks and you scoop a bite from your cup and into your mouth to cool yourself down, a pleased hum further grabbing his attention.

The two of you aren’t married, not quite yet, but he has told you for years that you will be. It’s you or no one as far as he’s concerned, well aware he’s going to live an easy lifetime listening to that same pleased sigh on repeat for years to come.

“Do that again?”

You scoff and roll your eyes although there is no bite to it. The ability to roll with the punches is one of the things he has always enjoyed the most about you. There is an innate playfulness to you that perfectly compliments his own even though you may pretend to be Miss Serious when the mood strikes you.

Like right now.

“Stop being gross and enjoy this beautiful day, Satoru.

He plays off your displeased warning with a laugh, tossing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. It really is a treat to get to spend this time with him during the daylight hours considering how busy both of your schedules tend to be thanks to, well, the whole sorcery thing and the sun illuminates him enough you can almost see a halo around the top of his head.

This world is beautiful because he’s in it, you think to yourself.

Dreamily, you sigh and glance down at your thighs instead of looking at him which would only further your lovesick feeling. Your heart is so full it feels it may pop like a balloon, a sign you need to let out what you’re thinking about.

“You know, sometimes I think about anything I loved before you and that love feels so shallow.”

That is not what he was expecting you to say. Satoru’s eyes widen and he tilts his head, puffing out air loudly.

“You loved something before you met me? What a betrayal.”

The smile on your face dims and your posture tightens while you turn your face away from him. He has seen you in every vulnerable state a person can be in - naked and clothed, sick and well, broken and whole. Even if you withdraw, he will always bring you back. This time is no different.

Gojo reaches for you, turning your face toward him with his free hand.

“No no no, come back here. I was just kidding.”

His fingers rest against your jaw and his thumb runs over the round of your cheek and your sour look fades in an instant. There are many things you loved before him, people too, and though it stings to know your feelings weren’t preserved until the day he landed in your life he smiles at you softly. From the day he admitted his feelings to you years ago, you were his and his alone. There’s no use in being jealous now and whatever remains of the bitter taste dies within him when he looks at your face and leans over to glance into your cup.

“So are you saying you love me more than ice cream?”

Giggling, you tap his nose with the handle of the wooden spoon in your hand.

“I’m saying that I love you more than anything that has come before or after you at the very least.”

“Then I’ll take this as a sign you don’t want that then.” Reaching for your ice cream, he wiggles his fingers and you hold it out of his grasp with a laugh. “No,” you feign annoyance and sigh loudly. “But I’ll share it with you.”

Reaching into your cup you pull out a scoop and feed it into his open, waiting mouth. He dramatically hums his pleasure, bundling his hands against his chest and shaking slightly. It’s a ridiculous move but you can’t help but laugh at him, reaching for another scoop in to feed him again.

“I love you too, by the way.” He adds after accepting the second bite, mouth still half full and cold. Nodding with a soft smile, you know he always will.

[camelotian]

(Okay, first things first, I’m very new to this app so bear with me please)

Like many of you, I’m rewatching Dead Boy Detectives for time number ??? and I’m still noticing more things! This time, I was paying closer attention to Niko’s character arc and her relationship with courage, which is so much more present throughout the show than I initially realized.

When we meet her, she’s pretty timid (and probably crushing on Crystal, but I’ll table that for now). In episode 2 (the case of the dandelion shrine), Niko explains that she went looking for dandelions because her dad used to say to keep one in your pocket “if you needed a little extra courage”. Then, in episode 3 (the case of the Devlin House), the dandelion sprites call her a coward, taunting her about staying in her room while her friends were in danger (of course, this backfires on them when Niko, in all her sweetness, rushes after her friends with a pot lid and a crowbar to help).

The big thing I somehow missed before though is that she shows up the next episode (episode 4, the case of the lighthouse leapers) wearing this:

At first, I dismissed it as another classic Niko outfit (bright, colorful, and adorable), but she’s very specifically wearing all red in the episode immediately after Litty and Kingham called her a coward.

Then—and I really can’t believe I didn’t pick up on this until now—she hands Edwin the red piece of sea glass, telling him it’s “red for courage”.

Niko is wearing red for courage!

Several of the characters in the show wear their clothes as armor, like Edwin with his prim and proper layers and Charles with his pin/patch-covered jacket, and it seems Niko does too. She chose red as a reminder, to guide her, and to prove to herself and the sprites that she can be brave.

This arc continues, with Niko commenting that she knows she isn’t the bravest in episode 7 (the case of the very long stairway), and culminating in her actions in episode 8 (the case of the hungry snake). In that last episode, Niko is truly a beacon of courage, insisting on helping the boys “even if it’s scary and the odds are bad and [she and Crystal] might die horrifically”. She’s repeatedly and emphatically warned about how dangerous the situation is, but her courage and love for her friends outweighs her fears. In her bravest moment (and easily one of the most heart-wrenching moments of the show), she throws herself between Crystal and Esther’s magical blade (despite how visibly scared she was of Esther moments prior). The Cat King even refers to Niko as Edwin’s “brave friend” when offering his condolences!

Anyway, I know I’m rambling and that this was probably obvious to others, but GOD I love this show, I love the details, and I love its characters dearly! 🤍

(Plus, the courageous Niko Sasaki would fight for her favorite show, so we will too)

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Santa's Helper

Requested: yes

Warnigs: cute Christmas stuff

Lando dropped his bags on the floor to his childhood home. Once the season was over, he would always do the same; pack his bags, enough clothes for the month of December to stay with his family until the New Year when he'd have to go back to the factory. "Lando? Is that you?" his mother called from the kitchen. "Yeah mum, I'm here." Lando began walking towards the kitchen when a heavenly smell hit him. The scent of freshly baked goods and cinnamon lingered in his nostrils. "What are you cooking?" Lando asked, walking into the kitchen but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw her sitting at the table, a mug of tea in hand and a cast on her foot. "Mum? What happened?" Lando asked, worried as anything. "I had an accident the day before your race and I didn't want you to worry." she smiled. "Well I'm worrying now, mum!"

"Cisca? Are you alright?" Lando and his mum turned to the door and saw a girl walk in. "I heard the front door open-" She met eyes with Lando and smiled. "You must be Lando. Cisca talks a lot about you." Lando was too stunned to speak (had to add a tik tok reference I'm sorry) She chuckled. "Well, I should take these biscuits out then. Can't let them burn." The girl smiled, turning towards the oven. Lando couldn't take his eyes off her and his mum could tell. "Lando? Can you help me into the living room please?" his mother asked. Lando snapped out of his thoughts and came back to reality. "Oh, yeah. Sure." He helped her up and began walking out with her slowly, not saying anything until they were out of the kitchen.

"You need to stop staring at the poor girl." she joked. "I wasn't staring. I just didn't know we had a visitor for Christmas." Cisca chuckled to herself. "She's quite pretty, isn't she?" Lando felt himself nodding but stopping himself immediately. "Who is she?" he asked. "Y/n. Our neighbour down the avenue. She's been helping me with gardening and cooking since I hurt myself." Lando's eyebrows knotted in confusion. "What? What about the old woman done the road? I though she was our neighbour." He said. "She passed away in June, remember?" Lando nodded. "That's her grand daughter." Lando looked back at her, quickly moving the hot biscuits to a plate to cool. "So she's staying down at the house?" Cisca nodded. "She is. Will I see you bringing the dog for a walk down by her house every morning then?" Lando shook his head. "Absolutely not." Cisca wasn't buying it. Lando obviously liked Y/n quite a lot from the few seconds they had briefly seen eachother. "Then maybe riding the horses. She does it every evening with Flo." Lando wasn't big into horse riding or doing show jumping or anything but for a hot minute, he was considering doing some horse riding in the mornings he was there. "Nah, I'm here to relax, not  run around doing horse riding." Cisca raised her eyebrow. "You say that but I know for a fact you will ask Flo once you don't see me." 

Over the few weeks that Lando was at the Norris household, Y/n would always come in at the crack of dawn to bring the horses for a walk and help Flo and then, after lunch, she would return with some food she picked up from the town's Christmas market. After that, she would help around for a while and leave before coming back after dinner just to check up on them. He loved when she came around and even more so when they'd share little conversations.

When Christmas Day had rolled around, Lando woke up bright and early, expecting Y/n to come on up to the house. He waited and waited. 6am. She wasn't coming. 7am. Wasn't coming either. It had gotten to about 8 in the morning and Y/n hadn't walked up the avenue. "Lando! Come on down!" he heard his father call up. He walked down the stairs to see Flo putting on her layers of jackets so she wouldn't get cold on her morning ride and Lando decided to go. "Flo? Would I be able to go on a horse ride today?" Flo looked at him, visibly confused. "You never go horse riding. What's the catch?" Lando shrugged his shoulders. "A change of heart maybe. It's Christmas, I wanna spend some time with you."

"Looking for Y/n?" Flo grinned. "Oh shut up. I'm not looking for her, just wondering where she is. Isn't she the one who usually does this with you?" Lando asked, trying to steer the conversation in another way. "Well yes, but she's staying with her boyfriend for Christmas." Lando felt a tug at his heartstrings. "Huh, didn't know she had one." In an attempt to try and make himself sound u bothered, he ended up sounding immensely hurt. "Are you alright Lando?" Flo asked him. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Flo knew Lando well enough to know he was in fact feeling down and she could figure out why too. "How about we go back and get some tea? It's getting way too cold out here." Lando nodded in agreement and followed her back, not a word being shared.

That day went so slowly. Without anything for Lando to anticipate on, or look forward to, it was far too slow of a day. Later in the evening, the whole family were sat around the table for Christmas Dinner. They pulled at the Christmas crackers, put on the hats and overall had a good time but Lando still felt something not quite right. He'd spent every Christmas with his family, always with the same people but this year it was as if a family member was missing or something. Everyone was grabbing whichever delicacies they wanted, ready to eat when the doorbell went. Lando stood up. "I'll get it, go on eating." Lando set his cutlery to the side and walked out to the front door, undoing the locks and then opening the door. He froze. Not because of the temperature outside but because of the person standing at the door. "Y/n? What are you doing here?"

"Hi Lando. Mind if I come in? It's freezing out here." Lando moved aside and let her walk on in. He looked at her, subconsciously smiling but then his face dropped. Outside, it was dark so he couldn't see her very well but enough to make out who she was. Now she was inside, full of light, he noticed her red, puffy eyes. More than likely from crying. "Are you alright?" Her bright smile, slowly faded into a frown and then, the tears came back. "Aw, what's wrong?" he pulled her into a hug as her tears stained his jumper. "I- I don't know why he decid-ded to- I didn't- do anything." she sobbed. "What happened?" he asked her. Y/n looked up to her. "He dumped me." Lando pulled her in for a hug again. "I'm so sorry.

"Here, how about you come in for Christmas Dinner?" Y/n's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, I forgot it was Christmas." Lando laughed. "It's alright, just come in and eat something." Lando began taking her coat off and then hanging it up. "Lando, I'll just go back to mine until tomorrow, really-"

"No, come on." Lando took her hand in his and tried bringing her into the dining room but she stopped him. "Let me wash my face. I don't want to go in looking like I cried." Lando nodded and walked to the bathroom with her. He stood outside, waiting for her to finish up and when she came back out, she looked fresh as a daisy. "You feeling alright now?" she nodded. "Yeah, let's go then."

After dinner, Lando sat at the porch his family jumped around, dancing in the garden. He could only smile and watch it all happen. "Not goin to join your family?" Lando heard a soft voice from behind him. He turned his head to see Y/n walking out the door, shivering as she met the cold air. "Nah, not one for dancing." He explained. She nodded. "Would you like to dance?" Lando locked eyes with her. Y/n smiled softly at him. "Of course. Only if you teach me though." She grinned and took his hand into hers, before starting a swaying movement. "That's all there is to dancing? I Should've done this ages ago." Y/n shook her head, laughing away to herself. "No, you muppet. I'm starting slowly."

"Can we keep it like this? I like dancing like this." She let out a sigh and greed and so they continued on swaying. They were joking, laughing, dancing. It was pure bliss and then her head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He liked this feeling of belonging. He liked being around the people he loved and with someone whom he hoped to love. "Lando?" He hummed in response. "Thank you for earlier." Lando smiled to himself. "Don't mention it. Friends have to look out for eachother, don't we?" She grinned and looked up to him. "Hopefully I see a bit more of you when I'm helping around at the house." Lando laughed. "You're like Santa's helper. Like a little elf."

"I like being an elf. It means I get to meet some great people." She paused. "People like yourself." Lando felt his cheeks heating up. "I'm gonna say likewise." He chuckled. Y/n's phone buzzed. She looked at it and sighed. "I have to go. I forgot I have to drive to my mum's tomorrow so I'm gonna get an early night." She walked back inside and grabbed her coat, returning a minute later, all wrapped up like she was a matter of hours ago. "Call me when you get there." Lando said, walking along with her. "I don't have your number so I'll ring the house phone." She said. "Yeah, you can ask for my number then." She stopped and blinked at him. "What?"

"Merry Christmas Lando." Lando embraced her. "Merry Christmas." He whispered back. "Just drive safely." She scoffed. "I wouldn't tell me to drive safely. I've seen you drive." Lando chucked at her light hearted joke. "I get paid to, there's a difference." She smiled. "I'll talk to you soon, Lando." She said. "I look forward to it." and with that, Y/n walked away in the snow, her figure becoming more faded and faded until she couldn't be seen at all.

[mara-xx217]

can you write something with Levi and affectionate reader? I feel really bad for him ngl

I think Levi is one of my favourite contestants in Termina, so I'm happy to give the boy some much needed gentle attention.

Warnings: Withdrawal Symptoms, References to Typical Canon Violence, there is some Fluff in spite of all the bad shit I promise

Enjoy!~

It was no different from the cold he experienced on the battlefield, but Levi never got used to it, even then. A bone chilling ache had set into his joints, making them stiff and pop audibly every time he took a step or raised his rifle or stooped down to the ground whenever a nauseating headache blinded him as he went longer and longer without his fix.

By the time the two of you reached the Bop, he was pale and visibly sweating, having soaked through his coveralls to the point that his clothing was a shade darker and small rolls of steam rose off his shoulders and rattled not from the wind, but from the intensity that Levi was shaking.

"Levi... you need to take a break. You're... You look really, really bad..." You raise your hand in his direction and he flinches, which had you stepping back and lowering your hand.

"W-What...? What? U-Uh... Sorry..." His eyes were wide and wild for a moment but they quickly calmed once he recognized it was you that was moving out of the corner of his eye. Levi turns to face you, needing your lips in order to aid his hearing of your speech. The few years he spent fighting in the second Great War has left him partially deaf and generally hard of hearing. It was yet another thing that made him nervous and jumpy and it made you a little sad to see...

Even in the warm light of the Bop, Levi was on edge and unable to sit down. You had to guide him inside and you had to gently beg him to take a seat. A part of you thought that Marina, who was seated at the bar, would poke fun at you and Levi but to her credit, she only looked up from her book in passing and then focused back down onto it.

"This place is pretty safe, even from Rher's influences. You can take it easy, soldier boy." Marina sighed and closed her book.

"That redhead, Abella, is downstairs. Need anything?" Marina was looking more at you than Levi, as he looked positively green and out of sorts.

"Y-Yeah... A blanket if you can, maybe two, but that might be asking too much..." You gently guide Levi to place his rifle down on one of the tables and all it takes for him to collapse onto the bench is the pressure of your palm pressing down on his shoulder from above.

"Yeah. How's about some food and water, too? I don't think it will be warm, but it's something." You nod and tell her your and Levi's thanks. Marina's offer could be seen as sarcastic, but she didn't really seem like the type to offer help without the intention to give it when accepted.

"Please, Marina? Thank you..."

You sat beside of your friend, stomach churning as you watch him writhe in place. He can't sit still, from discomfort, from the pins and needles that prickled the underneath of his legs and the overwhelming need to just-

To fucking just-!

Levi hissed in pain as a strange texture scrapped against his bare arms. His withdrawal symptoms had left him hypersensitive to all tangible stimuli, so the simple act of having a coat placed over his shoulders was a nearly unbearable sensation. It wasn't... an unwelcomed one, though, especially since it was your jacket that you had draped over him.

As much as he wanted to thank you, he quite literally didn't have the energy to say or even do anything. The simple act of keeping his body upright was a trial from hell and it was a struggle that he was losing. The thought of putting his arms and head on the smooth, cold table made him want to vomit but leaning back against the wall was just as bad. Levi rocked in place, a few strangled, choked groans and hisses of pain escaping his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut.

It hurts... It hurts to just exist... It feels like- like...

It feels like he's going to fucking explode-

It was likely foolish on your part, but you gingerly wrapped your arm around his thin shoulder and encouraged him to lean over onto you. At first, Levi was hesitant. Not because he was annoyed or because he didn't want to, but merely because he doesn't know if he could even stand it... But he couldn't keep himself upright any longer, and instead of resting his head against against your shoulder, he slipped down further and ended up resting his head against your lap.

It was... unexpected. For both of you. If it were another time, another place, under different skies, it would have been different. It could have been nice... It could have made you both blush and your hearts pound sheepishly in your chests as you both shyly avoid each other's gazes... But here and now?

You tried to hold Levi as he shivered and moaned in pain. Every touch was agony but he didn't beg you to stop, even though his body screamed for him to do so. He needed to know that you were there... that you were watching over him and making sure that he was safe... Levi should have been doing this for himself, for you, but he just couldn't. He was too sick, too tired, to weak...

For once, he needed to be the one that was protected and sheltered, just like how he wanted for the majority of his life. The festival wasn't a safe place, but you did help make it better, even if marginally and through your presence and care alone.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @thanksatt, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[turiluvr]

stitches

when you need him, he'll always be there.

— tighnari x gn!reader

— cw: stitches, blood, injury

"You're hurt." Those two words are all that he said as soon as he laid his eyes on you and you knew all too well that he wasn't happy with it. It baffled you with the way he immediately knew that you were injured despite your attempt to hide it—it was barely visible and your demeanor was normal, you were sure that you'd be able to fool him flawlessly. Though perhaps what gave it away was the stench of blood on you; he couldn't have missed that.

"It's nothing too bad," you waved your arms slightly as an attempt to reassure him and to convince him that it wasn't as bad as he thinks it is. "See? I can move just fine—"

"Let me see." He cut you off promptly and you couldn't help but freeze in place as a difficult expression took over your features. He took a few hurried steps toward you and grabbed your arm. He rolled up your sleeve and there he saw a deep cut on your arm, you saw his face contort slightly at the sight. "Idiot." He muttered, "you need stitches."

"No way… It'll just heal on its own, won't it?"

"Do you want to risk an infection?" He grabbed a cloth and the first aid kit stashes away in one of the cabinets. He was relieved that he knew how to treat this kind of open wound, he's done it on other people before when they came to him covered in cuts and bruises after an eventful expedition to the forest. Still, it didn't mean that he wasn't nervous—in fact, he was agitated but he refused to show it in his face. He took a deep breath and started working. "Stay still."

He was silent for the most part and you felt like you were holding your breath for so long. It never felt good when Tighnari was worried or disappointed; this time it felt like it was a mix of both. You wished he'd say something—anything to take your mind off the worries that started plaguing your mind. Initiating small talk first might earn you a sassy remark but staying silent might earn you a disappointed sigh. Either way, you couldn't wiggle your way out of this one.

Finally, he said something. His tone was soft, much unlike what you initially thought. His expression was unreadable as he worked on your stitches, but you could almost swear that there's a faint hint of sadness in his expression. "What happened?"

"I fell from a tree and my arm got stuck on one of the branches." He shot you a stern look immediately and you quickly shook your head. "Okay, I lied." You sighed and finally told him the truth, "I was attacked."

"... Mhm," was all he replied with. He didn't say anything but you knew he wanted you to continue explaining.

"It really wasn't that big of a deal but I guess I kind of got careless and before I knew it, their blade cut through my sleeve." You laughed nervously, expecting Tighnari to scold you for your reckless behaviour and give you a long lecture about the importance of remaining vigilant.

"Do you feel a little better now?" You don't know why you suddenly felt a little lightheaded. Was it the feeling of him stitching you up or was it the fact that his voice, his face was so soft that you couldn't believe what you were witnessing. Somehow, your words got stuck in your throat.

"Well… Yeah," You looked at your arm as Tighnari finished up his stitches, a little way for you to avoid his gaze for a few moments. "But aren't you mad or upset?"

"Frankly, I am mad and upset." He sighed and massaged his temples. "But now is hardly the time to scold you," he ran a finger across your newly stitched wound. "I'm just worried, most of all. I don't like seeing you hurt."

"... Really?" You didn't know if those last words held some sort of meaning to them. Perhaps he was referring to anyone in general, who liked seeing a person hurt? An abnormal guy, for sure and Tighnari was far from abnormal. Though, to you, you couldn't help but feel that those words were especially for you. His bare fingers trailing across your skin send shivers down your spine and you couldn't help but miss it when he finally pulls away.

He didn't answer your question and he stood up from his seat to place the first aid kit to where he took it from. "You should rest now. It'll heal faster if you stay still." He turned around to look at you once more, "oh, and…"

"And?"

"Be more careful." He looked away, "next time, let me come with you."

"You can't do that, we have completely different tasks and duties." You laughed. Tighnari looked a little embarrassed as he cleared his throat.

"Then, at least promise me this—promise me that I'll be the first person you come to when you need help." It was a strange request; a little selfish on top of that. You couldn't help but give him a puzzled expression. He continued, "whether it's because you're injured, exhausted, or even a little down, I'll always be here to lend you my shoulder and stitch you back up if you need me to."

That's awfully sweet but—"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious enough for you?" He scoffed but it slowly turned into a small smile, "I'll let you think about it. Have fun figuring it out."

You knew well why he was acting this way. You just wanted to hear it leave his lips this time. How unfortunate that he keeps being so roundabout.

[onyourowndaisymae]

an unofficial pact mark

content + warnings: fluff, implied romantic simeon x reader but can be read as platonic, minor mentions of jealousy, mc has visible pact marks, mc is tattooed, simeon and mc decide that simeon needs a pact mark too

word count: ~ 800

an angel's wings were always a sight to behold.

there's a fluffiness to an angel's wings that a demon could never quite have. not even lucifer, birdlike as the remnants of his fallen angelhood were, could compare to the sheer weightless charm of the fluttering appendages.

simeon's boyish giggle rang through the open field. a breeze blew through the celestial realm, rustling grass and clothes alike. his cloak was draped over your shoulders, ornamental jewelry clanking like windchimes as your chest shuddered with laughs. the two of you shifted again to put his back to the breeze.

"oh dear, this wind certainly isn't helping."

"don't worry! we'll get the photo!"

you lift the camera up to your eye again. like a sunset or twinkling stars through stacked lenses, the camera can't ever truly capture the radiance of his wings.

they're large, much bigger than you anticipated, fitting for an archangel like him with it's imposing wingspan casting an equally impressive shadow among the wildflowers. rows of fluffy feathers stack on top of one another to create a bountiful expanse of pure white beauty. they rustle unconsciously against the wind. they are such a graceful extension of the angel you loved-- although he was a little bashful to have such interest for a part of himself he usually kept tucked away, simeon lets you gawk as much as you wanted between attempts to get the perfect reference shot.

but back to the issue at hand.

it became apparent to you somewhere along the line that simeon was a bit jealous of your pact marks. something about the brothers having a sort of claim over you made the angel frown, gaze tracing over the visible marks with displeasure when you sat together watching movies at purgatory hall. it was even longer before he voiced this to you. it wasn't so much that he didn't want you to be close to the others-- although sometimes maybe it was like that, even if he didn't say it-- simeon was jealous of the way they all got to leave their mark on you without him. angels didn't make pacts like demons, so there was no physical proof of simeon's devotion to you.

seems unfair. he'd never complain to you about it, though, because there wasn't anything you could do about it. ... right?

silly supernatural creatures. their minds always went to extraordinary solutions of magic and sorcery. never once did they consider some of the more "primitive" solutions to their dilemmas, but that's what you were there for.

click!

the shutter snaps loudly. you pull back and glance at the screen. it's blurry, like all the others, but that's not anyone's fault. the radiance of his supernatural features is hard to capture on film, magical or not-- there was simply no way you'd get a clear shot... but the one you got was pretty cute.

he's grinning, hand up to cover his eyes from the sunlight permeating each inch of the heavenly realm. his wings are outstretched into the empty field, blurred by angelic magic on the camera, but clear enough to recognize as his own. you can't help but smile. it's a good picture. you can already picture your tattoo artist filling in the blanks with delicate shading and shapely linework.

"i think we've got it."

simeon wades through the field to curl up against your side, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"it's a little blurry... will that be good enough?"

"we'll make it work."

a call, a wad of cash, that blurry reference photo, and a quick visit to the human world later-- you had a makeshift pact mark to show your favorite angel.

the pain of the needles had long since ceased, leaving your skin to heal through time and various unscented lotions. the pain was not new to you, yet each new tattoo always drew "ooo"s and "ahh"s from those closest to you. this time, it's simeon gawking over you, gloved hands carefully holding your arm and grinning at the delicate lines embedded in your skin.

"gorgeous," he murmurs.

the tattoo didn't capture the full grandeur of his wings. that wasn't the artist's fault-- nothing could replicate the vision of seeing his beautiful wings in person. but the inked image on your inner bicep clearly pleased the angel next to you.

"now i always have you with me, too," you coo quietly, not wanting to interrupt how deeply he's admiring the art on your skin.

"did it hurt?" he asks.

"a little. but nothing i can't handle."

his thumb rubs against the nearby skin. the grin on his face is contagious-- now you're smiling, too.

"thank you for this," he murmurs, eyes glittering in the warm light of your room. "i can't tell you how much it means to me."

you can't help but press a soft kiss against his temple and nuzzle in close, rubbing your nose against his cheekbone to make him laugh.

"anything for my favorite angel."

[epictacobird]

Dorms and their reactions to Demon Slayer!Yuu

Warnings: dark themes, ptsd mentioned, angsty content ahead, hurt + comfort, spoilers for book 1 of twst

No I will not stop talking about this please I need content and I’m a slut for crossovers. This is meant to be platonic but if you envision somethin else idc

No gendered pronouns to refer to mc/Yuu, only “you”

Heartslabyul (here)- Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia

Context:

You’re a demon slayer, an extremely experienced one at that. You have been fighting demons ever since you were young, and preparing to do so even younger. When you were unexpectedly thrown into Twisted Wonderland and admitted to NRC, you hid your sword in your uniform, and stashed away your clothes once you could. You figured the best way to survive here was to hide your cards. After all, being surrounded by morally questionable strangers with magic was not ideal. In the case you really needed it, you figured it was best to pretend to be weak so you’re strength can cover you when you need it most.

Now that a few months have passed and you’ve gained reliable friends, you didn’t see a point anymore. You felt safer than you ever have in you’re entire life. You were no longer on a battlefield, no longer surrounded by the pained cries of the people you failed to save. But the battle was catching up to you. Now that you were no longer fighting constantly, you had more time to think. You’re nightmares of battle have been getting worse and you can’t escape it. The guilt of hiding such an integral part of yourself from your friends wasn’t helping either. Eventually though, you let the dam break. You tell them about you’re life, the reason behind your scars and show them your sword. There’s tears in your eyes and you’re shaking like the child you once were long ago.

Riddle

When you first entered NRC he was taken aback by you’re clothing, even more so with you’re visible scars and toughened look.

Even before you became friends he took note of the look in you’re eyes. He felt uneasy, it did not give the impression a normal teenagers eyes would. Whenever he caught you alone in the hallways you would always hold that deadened gaze, even if it was paired with a pleasant smile.

It was during his overblot when he saw the look in your eyes change. You’re dead eyes turned wide with fear and worry. But not at him, rather for him. When he woke up after, he could’ve sworn you were in the edge of tears. Later you would tell him you were just worried for his safety, which was true. (Although only you would know why your fear ran so deep)

he thought of you as a very tough, resilient and brave individual, a view that continued as long as he knew you. So imagine his surprise when he accidentally walked in on you crying.

He felt something was wrong for a while, although today was especially bad. You were tense, jumpier, and had dark circles around your eyes that only got worse. It all went down when he came over to Ramshackle for a study session. You had forgotten all about it, having scheduled it a week earlier. Currently you were holding a trinket from a loved one you had lost to a demon and were bawling your eyes out.

In the heat of your mourning, you didn’t hear Riddle come in or walk up the stairs to your room. Despite all your training, your senses failed you even when Riddle knocked on the door.

He heard you and warning bells went off in his head, after how you were acting all week he decided he couldn’t ignore it anymore and opened the door.

He called out you’re name in the softest voice, his brows furrowed. He didn’t know what to do or what was going on, having not been comforted much growing up meant he was a little lost.

Your head snapped up, and Riddle stumbled seeing you’re face.

Your eyes were bloodshot and heavy, as if it held all the sorrow in the world and it just couldn’t contain it. You’re lip was nearly gnawed through from the way you were trying to stifle you’re cries.

At first he thought you were just homesick with the way you clutched the trinket in your hands. But he came to realize he was very wrong.

A demon slayer? You really witnessed all that death that young?

And oh god your scars. They ran all over your body. Claw marks, blades, burns, tears, bruises, they littered your body. He was sickened by all the near death experiences you had. The most he felt he could do was sit by you and listen to your story. He’s holding your hand, looking at you, gently motioning you to continue.

Truthfully his view of you doesn’t change. He’s impressed by your skills, your selflessness, and your determination. In the end, he researches ways he could help you. You were suffering, and you trusted him enough with all of this. The least he could do was to support you.

He hugs you so tightly, even though he was never really big on physical touch. Just this once, how could not? He gives such a gentle smile, “I promise to help any way I can, Prefect. Please, rely on me. You’ve done so much already.”

Trey

Being extremely observant, he knew that you didn’t lead a normal life.

The first instance was when you were making the tart for Riddle. He walked over to give you some pointers as you worked on the chestnuts. He didn’t show it, but he was surprised by your hands. They were thick and calloused, with small scars all over.

He didn’t think much of it, he was just under the impression you must have worked outside or in carpentry back home.

That is, until Riddle’s overblot.

You were calm, too calm for someone who apparently was never in a life or death situation. Not to mention your strategies, but maybe you were just intelligent.

You were magicless, a completely normal human, yet you deflected and dodged every attack. No one really noticed, as you were off to the side, except for him.

Truthfully, he didn’t have much evidence other than that. Just that he felt something was innately wrong. There was something in the way you carried yourself, the way you’re body tensed at any sound at night, the way your eyes glazed over and fell into void when you thought no one was looking.

It was when you came over to help him bake something did he have to guts to ask.

You were chopping up fruit with impressive skill, something that came in handy whenever he had to prepare a large amount of treats for an unbirthday party. You enjoyed the time with him, after all, you were allowed to take some home for yourself if there was extra.

“What did you do back home?”

You paused, the knife hovering over the apples you were slicing. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” He trailed off, trying to find the words, “I guess I’m just curious is all.”

You continued to cut through the fruit, the tension never releasing from your shoulders. “Ah, well I never really had much of an education. I started working pretty early, I…erm…” You stumbled, trying to think up of an excuse, “I worked as a farmer.”

Trey frowned, knowing damn well you lied. But he took it, figuring you must’ve had a good reason to. You were normally so honest, (too honest for Adeuce and grim’s liking) so you must’ve felt it necessary.

But what he didn’t know was the guilt gnawing at you. It was a dirty lie, a meaningless one even. You told yourself you didn’t want to ruin the happy mood but that was a lie too.

As Trey put the desserts in the oven and set the timers you fumbled with your apron. You spoke as steadily as your voice allowed, “Trey, I lied earlier. I’m not a farmer, it’s just the real answer isn’t a happy one. I didn’t want to scare you, I’m sorry.”

He turned around with a soft smile, and nodded for you to continue.

And so you did, with the both of you seated on the stools you recounted your life. Truth be told, Trey was just as horrified as Riddle. But he kept a straight face best he could and let you talk. He watched as the tension leave your shoulders as the weight above you finally dropped.

It was then Trey really got a good look at you. The scars that trailed just above the collar and cuffs of your shirt and the dark circles under your eyes. You just looked so tired.

“Thank you for telling me.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in gently. He was near tears himself, he couldn’t imagine someone his little sibling’s age witnessing all of that.

“I’ll take care of the rest, Prefect. Why don’t you stay here at Heartslabyul? I want to make sure you get a good nights’ rest.”

Cater

Like Ace and Deuce, he didn’t notice anything either. And if he did, he never pried. Out of everyone he understood the most about wanting to keep parts of your identity hidden.

Although he was initially weirded out by the way you reacted to his phone. It was like you were from a hundred years ago or something. In the end he did teach you how to use it, which you were forever grateful for now that you were living in a modern world.

You were a hard worker, he’ll give you that. You never let being magicless stop you from doing anything. When he tricked asked you to help him paint the roses, he noticed the pride you took in your work.

A lot of your interactions after Riddle’s overblot was him teaching you how to navigate social media. Especially when he realized how fucking ripped you are. He asked you to hold him up once for a pic and the amount of likes you got was insane.

Sure, you didn’t understand half of what he was saying but you liked his enthusiasm! It was nice to have a friend like him, someone that made you feel normal. Like with Adeuce, his fast paced nature let you forget about your past.

Of course, you couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Cater wanted to go shopping and dress you up so you could have matching outfits for magicam, and it was getting harder to avoid. After all, an outfit that showed more skin than the uniform meant he would see your scars front and center.

But that’s not how he found out, rather it was during a movie night y’all had at Heartslabyul.

You bunked with Cater for the night since he didn’t have a roommate and besides, it was fun to have a sleepover with your newfound bestie.

You struggled falling asleep, and when you did your nightmares came back full swing.

You woke up screaming, Cater had shaken you awake and he was terrified.

“Hey! Hey! It’s alright! Calm down Prefect, it was just a dream. Breathe alright?”

He explained that you were crying in your sleep, mumbling incoherent things with such fear that he had to wake you up. You really scared him.

When he asked you about your nightmare, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie. I mean, here he was, at your side with eyes wide and hands clasped to yours. If you lied to him now, could you really call each other friends?

So you told him, initially he thought that it must’ve been a crazy nightmare from a horror movie. But you explained that it was real, although the events were dramatized in your dream.

He was at a loss for words, all your odd little actions clicked into place. Of course you didn’t understand technology and hated when he walked around at night.

But he understood, bringing you into a hug and let you cry into his shoulder. You felt so small, fragile even. Nothing like before. In this moment you weren’t the strong and confident Ramshackle Prefect; rather a hurt child that couldn’t bear their burden any longer.

“Hey, why don’t we go to that one cafe by the beach tomorrow? It’ll be my treat, you’ve been wanting to go there for a while right?”

He held you tighter, he wasn’t a soldier or a fighter by any means, but he was a friend. He wanted to cheer you up, he couldn’t bear to see you like this.

“Oh you know what? Why don’t we finally go on that shopping trip you owe me. I’ll let you choose the fit though.”

Ace + Deuce

They absolutely walked in on you changing.

They were about to do something stupid, in fact they already have and we’re looking to you to help them out of it.

Deuce, the gentleman, was about to knock on your door to see if you were there.

Ace over here didn’t think twice about running to your room and kicking the door open. Deuce immediately protested, leading you to whip around with your shirt just over your head.

Your torso was showing, which of course was where the ugliest scars were.

Deuce yelled an apology and yanked Ace back, slamming the door shut. Both of them had seen it, and both had eyes as wide as saucers with a million thoughts running through their pea brains.

Initially, both of them thought you must’ve been some crazy thug or trouble maker to earn those scars. But the more they thought back on it, if you were just a troublemaker why did you have giant claw marks? Burns that bad surely couldn’t have come from just a few street fights.

They waited in the lounge for you to come down. For once they were quiet, and gave you their full attention when you walked in.

Tbh Deuce was wondering if you were in a gang. It would explain a lot about the scars. He never said it but he was a little hurt you would hide that from him since he came from similar circumstances.

Ace thought you finally had enough of him when you walked in holding a sword. Literally why would you scare him like that

You sighed and sat down on the decrepit couch. “Alright, I’ll answer your questions as honestly as I can. It’s the least I can do after hiding this for so long.”

Chaos

One question was shot one after the other, “What happened?!” “Were you in a gang?!” “Did you kill someone??!” “Why the sword?”

In the end you managed to shut them up and tell them everything. Honestly I don’t think they would’ve noticed your strange behavior at first. You were always cheery around them, sure you had your moments but no one at this school was normal.

Ace is a little salty you didn’t help more when they were fighting the overblot monster from the mines. You telling him you could’ve oneshot that guy while they were running around all crazy? Fake friends man

His attitude changes though when you answered Deuce’s questions about a specific scar he saw on your back. It was thick, running all the way down to your lower back. It twisted the skin in a way that showed how deep it ran.

You explained that that wound nearly killed you. Despite pushing through it, it weakened you severely. It marked one of the greatest failures of your career as a slayer. The result was a massacre of citizens and your teammates.

The air changed after that. For once, Ace and Deuce saw you at your weakest as you recounted the battle. The magicless Prefect, the human who faced dangerous overblots without a batting an eye, was shaking with tear filled eyes as they clutched their sword.

They were at a loss at what to do. This was a first, seeing you like this. In the end, they settled on cheering you up. They knew how much your past haunted you but you were at NRC now! Demons don’t exist here, and you gave everything to save those people. You couldn’t wallow forever, but you couldn’t help that. So as your friends, they’d support you as best they can.

“That’s actually pretty badass, I mean you got all these crazy stories.” Ace complimented.

“Yeah, no wonder you’ve made it though all those overblots. Just how strong are you?” Deuce followed up.

You sighed in relief, at least they weren’t freaked out or anything. You were finally able to relax into the couch with a small smile dancing on your lips.

“Can I use your sword?”

“No” 😐

“By the way, Grim is stuck in a tree. He’s hiding from Floyd after we pissed him off.”

*****

[chronosdawn]

Disequilibrium - Vampire!Zhongli x GN!Reader

Do I have a good reason for writing yet another drabble about vampires? No, not really, but here we are nonetheless.

Content warnings: contains blood-drinking and biting, could be interpreted as yandere if you squint at it.

Word count: 1.4k

You had never realized how much body heat was able to seep through clothing until now. The motionless, shirt-covered chest beneath your palms leached the heat from your fingers through the fine fabric. You fought against a shudder as Zhongli carefully moved the collar of your shirt away from the base of your neck, revealing the soft skin underneath. It was a struggle to keep the muscles relaxed as he’d told you to, even if you knew the advice was given solely for your benefit, to make sure his fangs did as little damage as possible when they sliced into your flesh. 

This was far from the first time he’d fed from you, but it would be the first time he’d done so in his house, the opulent surroundings a far cry from the spartan space you called a bedroom. All of the previous feedings had taken place there; it was to help you relax, he’d said, much easier for you to draw on the comfort of being in your own space to get through those first few times. And now that you’d grown used to the pain and the odd numbness that followed, to the dizziness that plagued you for at least a full day following each one of your sessions, you’d been deemed ready to attempt something a little further outside your comfort zone. 

The feeling of Zhongli’s chest moving under your hands brought you back to the present—a breath drawn to facilitate speech rather than out of any actual need.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his voice low in your ear. “Have I pushed for this too soon?” Whether he was referring to your current location, or the fact you were currently seated in his lap when all of your prior encounters had involved only your wrist and a healthy amount of personal space, you couldn’t say. Regardless of which it was, you shook your head, thinking of the contract you’d signed—dark red ink on thick vellum.

“No, not at all, you’ve been very patient with me. I just need to get used to it, I think.”

“If you’re sure.” From this position it was impossible to make out his expression, the side of his face only just visible out of the corner of your vision. “I have some calming teas I could brew for you before we progress, if you believe it would help you to relax.”

“No, that’s okay,” you replied hurriedly, “best to just get it over with. Thank you for the offer though.”

You expected that to be the end of the discussion but Zhongli still made no move to bite you, instead tracing circles over the area where your neck met your shoulder with his thumb. He must have removed the gloves he always wore without your notice, you realized at the sensation of his ice cold skin against your own.

“I would not have suggested this if I thought you were incapable of handling it. Just remember everything I’ve told you and the pain will only be brief.”

You nodded and shut your eyes, allowing him to take more of your weight as you did your best to relax against him. The arm around your waist held you steady, while the hand at your neck moved to delicately grip the back of your head, carefully tilting it to provide better access to the network of veins at the base of your throat. 

The feeling of his fangs slicing through your flesh was familiar and foreign all at once. The initial sting of the bite felt no different at your neck than at your wrist, but you’d underestimated how much more intimate the whole experience would be compared to what you were used to. It took everything in you not to panic and start struggling—not that you’d have anywhere to go if you did. Zhongli’s hold on you was gentle but firm, and you knew without trying that fighting against it would be an exercise in futility and little else. It was safer like this, he’d told you, back when it was only an arm he’d held as opposed to your entire body. If you moved while he was feeding then there was far too much risk of you injuring yourself, of his fangs tearing inelegantly through your flesh before he had the chance to pull away.

As promised, the pain was short-lived, replaced with a numbness that slowly spread across your shoulder. You tried to block out the sensation, along with the sounds of him lapping up your blood, so much louder now that it was right by your ear. Instead you directed your thoughts towards the contract, no doubt stored somewhere in this house, hidden away between trinkets and finery collected over hundreds, if not thousands, of years. You thought of the promises made in stark red on cream, of why you were spending your Friday night in the lap of something many would call a monster instead of being out with your friends. 

Finally, after minutes that seemed to stretch into an eternity, Zhongli drew away from your neck with a final swipe of his tongue to keep any blood from trickling down and staining your shirt. The area was already starting to tingle faintly as his vampiric magic began to work at the twin puncture wounds, knitting skin back together such that by the time tomorrow came, the only evidence of the bite would be the weakness plaguing your limbs.

“You did well,” he said, the hand at your side moving in soothing strokes over your waist. “As I knew you would. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you replied a little breathlessly, going to sit up more only to be hit by a sudden wave of vertigo. “I’m a little dizzy though.”

“That’s perfectly normal after a feeding. Are you able to stand?”

“I think so.” Zhongli’s hold on you loosened and you attempted to slide off his lap, only to have the room spin and blur around you the moment your feet touched the floor. You were forced to cling onto him just to keep yourself upright, your hand scrunching the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh dear,” you heard spoken softly behind you. Zhongli stood and lifted you into his arms in a single fluid motion, your head lolling against his chest as the movement sent the room spiraling anew. “It appears I may have taken too much, my apologies. If you are amenable to it, I would like to suggest you stay here and rest for the night. I would like to keep a close eye on you over the next couple of hours and I fear if I take you to your own abode, I will not be able to watch over you if I wish to make it back before sunrise.”

You tried to nod in agreement only to immediately regret it as your surroundings twisted up around you, instead muttering a soft confirmation before closing your eyes. The movement of air over your limbs told you Zhongli was carrying you deeper into his home as you lay limp in his arms. Any thoughts of protest were buried under the churning motion in your head and the nausea that followed. You doubted you’d even be able to make it to the front door in your present condition, let alone the half hour walk it would take for you to get home. And that was if Zhongli would even allow such a thing, the vampire had been nothing if not fastidious about your safety ever since you’d signed the final stroke of your name.

There was the sound of a door opening and it wasn’t long before you were lowered onto soft, silken sheets.

“Rest,” Zhongli said, a cold hand trailing over your cheek. “I will prepare something to aid with your recovery once you wake.”

“Sorry for troubling you,” you mumbled, consciousness already on the edge of slipping away as you fought to open your eyes.

“It’s no trouble.” He hadn’t turned the light on when he’d entered the room—likely didn’t need to see your dazed expression clear as day despite the gloom—leaving his face bathed in shadow. “Sleep, I will return shortly.” You watched as his silhouette retreated from the room, turning back towards you just once as he reached the door. His eyes were all you could see, twin shards of bright amber in a sea of black and dark gray.

And then the door was shut behind him, and you were plunged into total darkness.

[adobe-outdesign]

are there any neopets/colors/combinations thereof you have a really strong opinions about but haven’t had the chance to review?

(I'll do Peophins for this one as I feel like I like them more than most and there's no requests in for them right now.)

I'm always amazed that Peophins aren't more popular than they are. They are one of the most beautiful 'pets by far—Neopets as a whole have pretty stocky, chunky anatomy, but Peophins are abnormally thin proportionally, and surprisingly anatomically accurate to real horses compared to something like the Uni. This gives them a natural elegance, which a lot of colours build upon.

Peophins are also really strong conceptually, taking inspiration from mythologies like the hippocampus. Even if you don't know what that is, the mere idea of an aquatic horse with a tail instead of back legs and fins along their ears is a very unique and easy design to grasp. Little things like the plates on their snouts also add to the uniqueness of the design.

The only thing that's bad about Peophins (other than the fact that underwater Neopets like them don't get much NPC rep) is that their basic colours are kind of terrible. They have the base color and yellow accents, but then turn around and have a really off-putting second color for the mane and a random green spot on their forehead gem, creating a mess of a palette. It would've been much better if the green gem was either yellow or the base color, and the mane was a neutral lighter tone. Thankfully, most other Peophin colors fix this issue.

Peophins benefited heavily from conversion, as their old art was extremely dated. In addition to overall art quality, the anatomy was also improved to be less lumpy and things like the ears and mane were improved proportionally.

Favorite Colours:

Tyrannian: Tyrannian's caveman-like designs are not something I'd usually refer to as pretty, but the Peophin knocks it out of the park. The dark streak down the back and the underbelly combined with the fur makes it look a lot more like a prehistorical seal-esq creature, and little details like the mask being made out of stone are perfect. The mane is also quite pretty and adds a much needed pop of color.

Both the UC and converted versions are great, though I'll give the UC a minor edge for having a slightly more unique shape to the ears/fins and having the tail elements be more visible.

Royal: What I like about royal Peophins is that they take the idea of the Peophin's head plate and gem and expand on it, both by wrapping it around the ears to make a kind of crown and by adding lots of complimentary jewelry. I also like how the robes flow nicely with the body and make logical sense for an underwater creature. Both the royal girl and boy are good and match each other well, though between the two I do like the royal girl a bit more just because of the lovely palette.

Stealthy: Slightly unusual for a ninja colour but still very cool, the stealthy Peophin feels like it was also made with the water in mind. Lose-fitting cloth ninja robes are replaced with water-friendly mesh, and there's a bunch of metal holding bands that compliment the usual head plating. I also think that it's neat that they have a tie around their mouth similar to the reins of a normal horse. Also, the unclothed base, while much simpler, is also pretty nice.

BONUS: I'm normally of the opinion that faerie pets are best with markings, whether they be swirls, layers of color, or speckles, so that they're not just a normal Neopet with wings attached. However, while I would've loved to see some light pink swirls around the hooves and tail of the faerie Peophin, it still looks really nice. This is mostly because the lavender base is complimented by pink and silver accents, making it different than a basic Peophin.

Also, the UC/styled version is stunning; the pose is super fluid, the shading is really good, and the slightly different, more defined anatomy in the face really adds something. The converted version is still nice enough, but the wings are a bit too small and washed out color-wise, having lost the yellow dots in them.

They also screwed up the wing shape a bit; it's easier to see in the original Battledome poses, but the wings are one single wing that should run down the back rather then overlapping. They only overlap in the styled art because of the perspective on the tail that isn't present in the converted version.

[gaykarstaagforever]

1970

The Silver Age was coming to a close in 1970. But DC wasn't quite out of amazing ideas yet.

I'm not going to review this. There is nothing more to say than what this cover says. Superman turns into a giant stupid Superman for like 2 hours, wrecks a bunch of things, then it wears off. It is exactly as cool and entertaining as that sounds. They finally got one right, boys.

Here he is fighting a bunch of soldiers.

Here he is, doing the thing.

Here he is, using the tip of the Washington Monument that he broke off to write a giant message about how oops, he's sorry about all of this. ...Which seems like it kind of contradicts his point, since there were probably a hundred ways he could have written this message without destroying a national monument.

But we're not here to be nerds about writing, we're here to see this:

I'll tell you how he got out of this mess, because it is probably the most fantastic thing in this entire story. Maybe one of the most fantastic things Silver Age Superman ever did. And NO, it doesn't involve one of his stupid awful robot clones.

But first, you need some context. This is the very first panel of the story, after the splash page:

Now. If you're like me, you are immediately lost. Who is Titano, and why are these idiots talking about him in front of a King Kong movie poster?

Well. I don't know how to tell you this, but back in 1959, there was a Superman comic where NASA sent a monkey into Space, and it came back 50 feet tall with kryptonite laser eyes. It did a King Kong with Lois (of course), until Superman defeated it and whisked it away to a Planet of Giants he knew about.

You know that thing in comics, where they'll reference some old story only nerds will remember, and they'll put an asterisk and tell you what issue it was from so you know what the hell they're referring to? Yeah, no, they don't do that here. This panel is all you get. They just expected you to remember that 11 years ago, they did a story where Superman fought a giant monkey from Space.

Which, sure, is memorable, as far as these things go. But 1960s Superman fought all kinds of crazy things from Space! It seems a little presumptuous to assume anyone would remember this specific incident, after 11 years of growth rays and shrink rays and 5th dimensional pygmy wizards and that time Superman was fat. But here we are.

Yes this is relevant to the ending. As the bigness whatever is wearing off, Superman jogs out into the ocean to finish his shrinking. He then returns to Lois and Jimmy as Normal-Sized Clark Kent. This was during the era where Lois and Jimmy were finally both suspicious that maybe Clark was Superman, only because the two were never at the same place, at the same time.

And yes, even they knew about the damn robot clones by now, so they weren't going to fall for that sitcom nonsense.

So Clark, the perpetual liar that he is, has to make sure Lois and Jimmy don't point out how he was conveniently absent the entire time Superman was giant. Before they declare him Superman, he points out to them that while he is here with them now normal-sized, a giant in a Superman costume is still visible, running away through the ocean. See? He can't be Superman. Even if he looks exactly like him, in face and build, but with glasses.

So how does Superman callously deceive his two closest friends?

He flew real fast to the Giant Planet, abducted a confused and terrified Titano (remember him?), created a giant Superman costume and dressed the giant monkey in it, flew him back to Earth, and dropped him into the ocean in just the perfect way where Lois and Jimmy could see him in the Superman outfit, but not see he was in fact a giant monkey. The giant monkey they would both specifically recognize, because of the thing they went through with him before.

Don't worry about Titano though, if you were. Once this lunacy is over, Superman rips his clothes off and dumps him back on the Giant Planet.

...I appreciate that you're probably still trying to process all this. And best of luck with that. But before we end, we need to talk about this:

They buy Cracker Jacks at the movies. Jimmy's box has red kryptonite in it, and that is what makes Superman grow big and stupid, because, and I very nearly quote, red kryptonite makes weird stuff happen, and Clark was watching King Kong, so he was thinking about giant monkeys.

That is the ONLY explanation we get for any of this. No, they don't explain why red kryptonite was in a box of Cracker Jacks. Or why two panels of this comic are an obvious ad for Cracker Jacks, except the boxes don't look like real Cracker Jack boxes, and they always did that for ads, so this can't be one. Plus this isn't a separate page in the comic, this is just...how the story starts.

Was this a tie-in that fell through, last-minute? It has to be, right? LOOK at this. Why did they do this?

Also, King Kong is technically public domain, in the sense that you can print the name and show a giant monkey. But the movie rights are exclusive to Universal. And I don't know if that was true in 1970. So was this ALSO some kind of Universal King Kong tie-in? Again, it isn't a proper ad, it's just part of the story.

Though they very specifically only feature Titano in person in the comic, so maybe this WAS just a reference, and they were careful not to put actual Universal's King Kong in the story.

They just used their own ripoff of him from 11 years earlier. Where he was brown and looked more like a giant chimp. And now, here, he is a black gorilla, sort of. Like King Kong.

...There is a whole entire other feature in this issue, and I haven't even read it yet, because I have been thinking about this story for like a week.

I hope you understand why.

[blamin8r]

These are my personal designs/references for SMG4 because of how much I draw fan art for it. You can tell which ones are my absolute favorites to draw based on how much I’ve changed them basically. It’s organized by Recolors, The Girls, Non-Human, and Excess (sorry Kaizo)

Mario: I gave him stitches on his outfit because of how often he explodes and gets hurt (Luigi fixes his clothes since that’s less expensive than constantly replacing them), and those dark marks on his face from when Zero grabbed him and did that weird crap during the 10 year anniversary video. I also gave him a star pin on his overalls too.

SMG4: There’s so much. I made him shorter, changed his body type, gave him darker skin, scars from when he was possessed by the TV Adware dude (and other various scars), eyebags, a jacket, IV on his gloves, and the arrow from the USBs. He also has the arrow on the back of his jacket, but I haven’t drawn his back view before with this design so that’s never been visible in my art yet.

SMG3: I made him even shorter than SMG4, gave him longer hair, matching scars to SMG4, darker skin, a cape, black gloves, platformer boots, the USB arrow, and I changed his body type. The back of his cape has the same skull design that’s on his hat and boots too.

Luigi: I didn’t change too much to him, just his shirt, a flower pin, and some scars. Also he’s round like Mario but not the “skinny brother” because I don’t personally believe in that. (Though whenever he takes off his shirt he immediately becomes a buff man because SMG4 logic)

X: This one was fun. He already has dark skin on his recolor self, so I also went ahead and gave him curly hair, a beard, eye bags, a beanie, hoodie, changed his height, and gave him a cool weird eye thing because why not. He and FM also have similar eye colorings to 3 and 4

FM: He’s the only recolor I decided to make not chubby but instead kinda fit since he’s a police officer. I also gave him a police styled hat, badge, different shirt and gloves, longer hair, a bunch of scars, piercings, and steel toed boots. He looks pretty cool :D

Minion: Parts of her design I did out of pure spite. Her body type matches SMG4’s but she’s a bit shorter, an overalls skirt thing, matching hat, pink gloves, some long socks, and I kept her mustache but just made it smaller. Why? Well, I haven’t headcanoned SMG4 as trans (unlike what a lot of my friends and mutual have done), but I did do that for Minion, because in my mind, she basically has SMG4’s exact body type, including the reproductive organs. But she’s still a woman. And I also believe that women (cis and trans) shouldn’t have to feel shame for having facial hair or body hair, so I kept that there, again, out of spite for people who really feminize her body in a stereotypical way in their personal designs for her.

Meggy: I’m not an extremist for Inkling Meggy or anything, I do like her as a human, but I’m still not sure why they chose to make her a human and not just a squid that’s not Nintendo styled. So instead I just gave her some other squid attributes, like the typical tentacle hair thing, but also some fins on her arms and legs. Her skin is a little darker and she has freckles now. I made her outfit more black and orange themed because I personally hate the dull whites and browns on her outfit. To reference two of her other outfits, I had her keep her college jacket tied around her waist, and her glasses on her shirt since I feel she probably needs them for reading still. I also gave her more sports styled clothes like her shorts and the knee pads. And I removed her goggles because I despise drawing them, she has too much accessories on her head and that one section is so annoying to draw. Lastly, I made her a bit muscular because there’s no way every single one of the girls has the exact same body type.

Tari: Her design just got updated when I was in the middle of working on this, and it’s really good so I only changed her body type by making her chubby and added a gradient to her hair.

Saiko: Her outfit is cool minus the colors, so I gave her a more pink and black theme for her outfit colors. I also made her more muscular and gave her some scars since she’s known as the more violent one in SMG4 who carries that massive ass hammer just casually.

Melony: I looked up where watermelons came from, and they came from Africa apparently, so I made her black (also because all the human characters are white/light skinned so I changed that) and I think it makes sense with her hair too because of the thingies that come down over her ears. It also makes the pointy things behind her hood make sense too. I changed her body to have more body fat and gave her some stretch marks and cellulite to go with it. I like her hoodie, but you can’t tell me that’s all she has on, so I also gave her some shorts, since she gets sexualized so much.. She also has shoes too, those socks would be so nasty otherwise. Her diety form is gonna have actual armour because that makes more sense than just a different colored hoodie.

Belle: I changed nothing about her, not because I don’t like her or think her design is perfect or anything, (she’s great and I miss her ;-;), but I actually chose to keep her as is just because people who look like her and have her body type still exist, they’re just not the only one or the main one. Humans vary a lot.

Karen: I didn’t change much, but since she’s a single mother, I made her body look a little more like a middle aged woman, and gave her a sweater her kids made for her too that she wears proudly.

Shroomy: I know there are multiple characters that are technically naked, but I felt that Shroomy should at least have a Boy Scouts outfit on, he lives in a world with Toads which do have clothes so it didn’t feel right to have just the badge thing over him

Bob, Rob, Boopkins, and Jub Jub: I kept them as is because there’s not much to their appearances anyway, minus a few rips and tears for Bob’s outfit.

SMG2: I made his body a little more proportional so that his head was at least not larger than the rest of his whole fucking body, and I gave him some excess scars since he and SMG1 have been around for the longest, and have probably been through a lot together. I also gave him sleeves, shoes, glasses, and matching gloves that all the SMGs now have. His antenna thing is also thicker because I don’t wanna make it too thin.

SMG1: His body is also more proportional, but that’s mainly because I didn’t like making his torso long. I also gave him clothes to match 2 a little more but darker. He’s got excess scars as well, and his gloves are opposite to 2’s similar to how I made 3 and 4’s gloves opposite of each other. He’s also got glasses like 2, and they match their head shapes.

Kaizo: I fucking love Kaizo, he looks so damn cool to me, so I kept his outfit the same, just changed up his body. He’s more muscular and has more demonic features (pointed pupils and ears, tail, more sharp teeth, forked tongue, claw-like nails), as well as a bunch of scars everywhere on his body. Plus more body hair, and based on a Kaizo design I saw elsewhere (I forgot who made it) but I made the ends of his hair dyed red because it looks cool. And piercings.

Swag and Chris: I love these two, but I couldn’t think of how to change Swag and Chris besides making them a buff and old. (To me, they’re at least in their 30’s or 40’s). I do believe in dilf Chris tho, so make whatever assumptions you want from that.

Whimpu: I actually really don’t like Whimpu, mainly for his personality, but also because of the Waifu Factory episode, it just really made me uncomfortable with how objectified and dehumanized the anime girls were in it, and he was a big part of that. Still, I wanted to change him a bit since his design is a little plain. He’s still plain, but a bit less. I added acne, buttons on the tie, and a shirt pocket with a pen in it.

Steve: I hate how I end up drawing Steve, but I didn’t want him to look too human in a normal way, because a part of his charm is being this weird block dude. So he just looks like a more blocky human with dirty clothes, a lot of scars, and a beard.

[queenofthequillandink]

I can't remember if you've described how the Everlasting Trio looks like aged up. Or if Dannys ghostform looks different, so official petition for a short list of descriptors? Like Height, Hair, general clothing etc. Maybe Ellie and Jazz as well ❤️

Sorry to bother you!

I have to go through what I wrote to make sure I don't contradict myself lol, but here we go:

Danny: 24, 5'6. He keeps his hair a little shorter than in the show, close on the sides and longer on top. He filled out a little and is a little broader in the shoulder, but he's still skinny and years of not getting enough food for his increased caloric needs left his growth more stunted than it would have been otherwise. He tends towards looser clothing, a habit from hiding how muscular he was in high school. Plus, he just likes to be comfy. When his death injury is acting up, he wears a wrist compression brace on his left arm. His canines (top and bottom) could properly be called fangs. He gets more sleep than he used to, but has pretty permanent dark circles.

Danny's ghost form is a little more ghostly than it used to be. His teeth are sharper, his ears are longer and pointed, and his skin has a green under tint to it. I am a big fan of the "constellation freckles" fanon, so I'm keeping it.

Sam: 24, 5'3. Sam keeps her hair a little longer than in the show, down past her shoulders, though she still likes the half up, half down style. She dresses punk/goth with a little more street fashion flair than you can get in a kids tv show.

Think this:

She still likes dramatic makeup choices, like black or purple lipstick and heavy eyeliner.

Her canines are a little sharper, but not noticably inhuman. She's taken to wearing brown contacts day to day and only going out with her purple eyes (which I've decided are natural because fight me) as Aconite.

Tucker: 24, 5'10. Tuck's hair is longer and dreaded. Up until this moment, they were relatively short but then I tried to find a reference photo and found this

-and fell in love instantly so he has long dreads that he wears like this. He is the master of comfy cozy. He wears a dress shirt and slacks to work, but as soon as he's home, he is in the biggest, comfiest sweater. This man owns so many cardigans. It's about the soft 🤌. He no longer wears the beret(?) thing from canon, but does love him a good beanie. He is never seen without tech of some kind. He teeth are sharp like Sam's.

I know in canon, Tucker's eyes are blue, but I always imagine them brown anyway. Whichever direction you go, the irises have gold threaded in them now (bleedover from being Pharaoh). I am very bad at picking new glasses for people, but I think he's switched to bigger frames. Maybe something like this:

Jay: 15, 5'4. You've already nailed Jay's look in your art, but his skin is a touch darker than Danny's. They both have freckles and similar hair, though Jay's has a curl. He prefers simple, comfortable outfits: pretty much all of his wardrobe is jeans, tshirts, and sweatshirts. His eyes are teal. He doesn't (yet?) have fangs in human form.

Jazz: 26, 6'3. Jazz keeps her hair long like in canon, down to her waist. She typically dresses in business casual or equally sharp outfits. Even in her personal life, she's very well dressed. I absolutely imagine her as the kind of person who doesn't even dress down for travel, hence her wearing business casual on a plane. She usually keeps the makeup pretty light unless she's looking to be intimidating, in which case she has a special tube of maroon lipstick that Sam gave her. She has small but visible fangs in human form.

Elle: 21, 5'5. Ellie is visibly muscular, lean in the way those Super Outdoors people are. She also dresses in sturdy outdoors clothes and solid hiking boots, good for travelling, though she has some fun outfits that are a mishmash of fashion from all over the world. She has several ear piercings. Preferentially, she has long hair as an undercut, though it sometimes grows out as she travels.

She's rarely without her backpack, in which she keeps all of her essentials. She has tons of interesting scar stories and I imagine more than one spur-of-the-moment tattoo. In fact, I've just decided that she has the silhouette of a bird flying into the sunrise on her right shoulder.

These are just guidelines, so feel free to make some decisions yourself!

[salamiimommy]

Im_Sorry_Buddy’s description for as many of the designs in FTFO as I can find rn bc I need to keep them all together in one place for reference so I might as well share it for anyone else

Any edits I make to the original text will be shown in [these] yes I have been updating it, last combed around chapter 5 while also updating with the latest chapters. Buddy has confirmed this post is accurate !!

[MAJOR DESIGN SPOILERS MENTIONED. marked with **. it’s organized by character with their first outfit on top and changes after in order to how they appear. pls be careful looking through if you’re new.]

[Ink is first and he has. a Lot of outfits so there’s a HUGE chunk of text to scroll past to get to everyone else LOL. Broomie is second]

First, some heights. The tallest Gang member is Horror (4ft 10 inches), then Nightmare (4ft 9in, though his tentacles make him seem larger than Horror), then Cross, Killer, and Dust (4ft 7in), then Ink is the shortest (at about 3ft 8.5 inches). Of the Sanses, only Outertale Sans is shorter than Ink (at 3 ft 5inches).

Error is a couple inches shorter than Cross, Dust, and Killer at 4ft 04in (because Error 404 joke). Dream is approximately 4ft 3in (my headcanon is he’d get taller than that if the Multiverse wasn’t so negative. Plus Nightmare has 500 years on him). Blue is 4ft 7in. Red is 4ft 6.5 inches just to make him mad that Blue is a little taller than him. Core Frisk… is 4ft. (Yes, they are actually taller than Ink. Yes, I did a double take when I realized that. The fandom has lied to me.)

[The Papyri] average around 6.8 to 7.2 ft. Edge looks even taller than he actually is because of the heels on his boots. I will say that Toriels are taller than the Papyri at maybe about 7.5 to 8ft. Other than that, I don't have exact numbers in mind, heh.

[the website I used made the Sanses all child models bc they’re so short wHEEEEEEEZE also like it states the Paps n Tori heights are the averages, different AUs are different heights. also also the rectangle in the back is Broomie's height]

Ink:

Ink sleeps in pajamas that are a lighter shade of brown. It’s a standard long sleeve button up pajama shirt and pants.

Ink's soul has the appearance like broken pottery. There are visible gouges where he dug his fingers into his soul.

Ink has had a couple different outfits. His former "hanging around the Castle" outfit was a too big brown long sleeve and loose brown pants (that did resemble the pants the Comyet Ink used to wear except they were completely brown and went all the way down to his feet). Those clothes were destroyed when Error grabbed him in chapter 6 (where Ink spent chapter 7 wearing Killer's too-big coat) so [then] Ink [was] borrowing one of Cross's black long sleeves and another pair of brown pants (these have more of the "pleated" design of Comyet Ink's new pants and also go down to his feet) .

[CH 12 HT!Toriel visit] “He was happy to choose a cyan hoodie and dark blue joggers. Well, he was happy except when it came to choosing the shoes.”

[CH 26 Ccino visit] “His black turtleneck, pants, and green vest” [from his Arc outfit.]

[CH 27 onwards was a black long sleeve shirt, pleated brown pants, and his scarf with the hood.]

[CH 32] “[…] wear his brown scarf and hood, along with his loose brown pants. […] Aster had apparently brought along a black tank top for him. The tank top fit well enough and the collar was high enough that it lay under the collar of his scarf but it obviously did not cover his arms, […]Doctor Toriel stepped out before returning with a pair of long fingerless brown gloves.”

[CH 44] “[…] a light green long sleeve, his hooded scarf, and a pair of dark brown pants from the drawer right beside him.”

[CH 45] “[…] his hooded scarf, a comfortable black long sleeve, his light green [cargo] pants, and a brown satchel with a long strap. He hung the satchel cross-body over his shoulder”

[CH 46 around the castle] “[…] a pair of rather short brown shorts, leaving […] much of his femur uncovered”

[CH 46 Ccino visit] “[…] a turtleneck that matched the light green interior of his hooded scarf and brown pants”

[CH 46 Sciencetale visit] “[…] his comfortable black long sleeve and the detachable light green pants-to-shorts he preferred.”

[SHIELD OUTFIT] A long purple cloak with a hood that, when up, almost covers his face (meaning his eye lights can glow from beneath the shadow of the hood). It's more off of his face when he's curious and excited, but falls further over his face when he's scared or uncomfortable. The purple cloak has a silver clasp in the shape of the Delta Rune. Underneath the cloak he wears a silver tunic, black belt, and purple leggings. His boots are black and go up just to his “calves”. When Ink is Shield, he covers the ink splotch on his face with white paint.

[Ch 26 he added]”[…H]is scarf (minus the hood, which was tucked into his satchel) around his neck. Its ends were folded in so they did not hang out of the bottom of his brown coat.”

[ARC OUTFIT:] Whenever Ink needs to publicly work for Nightmare, he wears an outfit with a bit of a steampunk aesthetic (as “encouraged” by Nightmare so that when people look at Ink, they don’t think “medic” or “healer”). Nightmare wants Ink to keep his identity (and the fact that he’s the Gang's medic) a secret so he wears a mask outside of the castle. The mask appears to be made from brass and copper metal that’s been painted black (with the exception of a few accents). It covers his face while his hood covers the rest of his skull.

The mask is fashioned after a mix of a gas mask for the bottom half and steampunk “brass goggles” for the top half. It is all one piece and the way the “metal” is crafted makes it looks like an owl’s feathery face. Ink’s eye lights are not visible through the goggles and the dark lenses (plus the shadow of the hood) makes it seem like he is constantly giving what I call the “Sans's empty socket glare”. The bottom half of the mask has two “valves” for exhalation and inhalation that are actually functional (cleansing the air he breathes), but are flatter and are symmetrical, unlike real world versions tend to be. There is a bit of metal between the valves that looks like an owl’s beak. The bottom is mostly black with some brass accents for the bottom half. He can easily remove the mask to reveal his face and replace it in a moment’s notice.

Ink wears a brown steampunk overcoat with a hood. Seven black buttons go up his chest (to the left side of his sternum) to close it. Under the last button, the fabric opens up in an upside down “v” shape, preventing the coat from covering the fronts of his legs. The hem of the “tail” of the coat falls just below the backs of his knees. The collar of the coat covers part of his neck. Around his left forearm is what looks like two black snake designs wrapped around his arm (like the snakes wrapped around the Staff of Asclepius).

Under the coat he wears a dark green vest (It was the only big bit of green that Nightmare allowed because he really doesn’t want Ink to even be associated with green magic.) Under that vest he wears a black turtleneck undershirt that nearly goes up to his chin. His pants are black, and tuck into brown boots. (Ink ditches the boots whenever he can).

Over the coat, Ink wears a thick black belt that has many pockets on it. Every pocket has a unique symbol and every one is filled with medical supplies like bandages, healing food, several antidotes, etc. Attached to his right thigh is a small satchel with more medical supplies. In the small side pocket of the satchel (this one is to the front so its easiest to reach), is [REDACTED]. On his left thigh he wears what looks like a long brown holster that goes down to his knee. Seven pockets go down it in a line. Inside are… you guessed it: more medical supplies.

Ink wears black gloves that leaves just the tips of his fingers exposed. The back of the right glove gets what looks like a bronze analog clock sewn into it. The tops of his fingers are exposed so he can more easily use his magic to heal others and [fix codes]. They’re reinforced so he can grab a blade without it cutting right into him.

[Ink now wears the scarf as well, minus the hood, with the ends folded so they do not hang out of the bottom of the coat as of Ch 27.]

[SCARF in CH 26] “The hood was attached by a few buttons that were the same shade as the rest of the fabric, letting them blend into the scarf and make it appear to be one solid piece. The outside of the hood was brown. Its interior was a light green, like the color on the pinkies and sides of Prism's gloves. It was also the color that Ink's eye lights often turned when he used green magic.

The brown scarf's tails were long enough that the ends still hung down by the bottoms of Ink’s calves after he wrapped it around his neck. The hood hung loosely around his head but stayed up even when he moved around. The green interior of the hood was clearly visible, contrasting the exterior nicely. The "collar" was loose around his neck but thick enough to easily cover the new marks that had been scrawled onto his bones.

If Ink wanted to, he could detach the hood and tuck in the ends to wear the scarf under his Shield cloak. He could even wear it hoodless with his Arc outfit if he wished.”

[INKS FINAL OUTFIT in CH 47] Ink's new brown coat was shorter than his old Arc one, with the straight hem stopping at just below his pelvis.

There were only four black buttons holding it closed instead of the previous coat's seven, though Ink found that he also liked how it looked when he left it open.

Even when fully buttoned, the coat opened up just below his collar bone, leaving a standing collar up top instead of an attached hood and revealing a bit of the light green turtleneck that safely covered the tattoo-like marks on his neck and sternum.

[…] an upright light green heart was embroidered on the shoulders of the coat, subtly indicating his profession as a Healer. Just beneath those hearts, cut-outs ran from his shoulder to above his elbows and revealed a matching green interior.

He traded his old black gloves for longer black ones with stitching designs that matched the light green of the interior of his scarf, his shirt, and the medical hearts, leaving the tips of his fingers and thumbs exposed and the black double-clock on the back of the hand. His wide, pocket-filled black belt also remained, as did the brown holster of pockets down his left thigh. His brown satchel was moved to his right hip, now hanging crossbody instead of being attached to his right thigh.

The black pants he designed had zippers hidden under small bits of overlapping fabric up around his femurs, which gave him quicker access to the area if needed. He could technically turn the pants into a pair of shorts with two unzips but Ink was hesitant. He was too uncomfortable with the idea of showing the binary code marks on his bones to consider something shorter like Prism's overalls, even with the thigh-high brown sock providing an extra layer of coverage on his left leg. Like Prism and many other Inks, he chose a design that left his heel and toes bare. Unlike Prism and many other Inks, the tight-like sock had a swirling green design down its outside.

Other than the pant leg, his prosthetic was bare, allowing a bit of the design to be seen due to his abhorrence for shoes. Maybe it was due to the presence of the colors (instead of white) but Ink was much more receptive to showing the prosthetic off than any of the marks on his bones.

Ink's Arc mask was attached to his belt and hung near his satchel, out of the way but within reach just in case.

His hooded scarf completed the outfit, with Cyan and Gold once again taking up residence at the ends of the tails. Broomie floated at his back, with the tip of their handle pointing out beyond his right shoulder while their black brush flicked close to his left ankle.

[**CH 41 Ink’s right leg has been cleanly amputated] “above his knee, halfway up his femur.”

[**PROSTHETIC in CH 46] The prosthetic resembled a skeleton monster's right leg with several notable differences. The socket was a bit wider than the bone to fit his stump and provide support. The pylon beneath the knee resembled leg armor more than a skeleton monster's individual tibia and fibula. The basic shape and outline were a similar thickness to his bone leg though.

The mechanical foot part was currently covered by the shell that went over it. Based on the images that Doctor Toriel had shown Ink, there were distinctive joint areas for the ankle, knee, and toe beneath the casing. […] the toe was one unit meant for balancing, support, and propulsion.

The base of the prosthetic was colored a medium shade of gray […] while the design on the casing was one of the simpler ones.

The prosthetic covers were the same style for the entire leg and foot. They had the appearance like jagged light green lightning or filled cracks in repaired pottery, which stood out sharply and boldly on the metallic black background. The moment Ink had seen what was labeled as a "kintsugi-inspired" design, he knew that was the one. The green not only matched his eye lights, his magic, and the interior of his scarf, but the 'filled-in' look of the pattern reminded him of his soul.

Broomie:

Cross:

Cross [used to wear] his old Royal Guard uniform from Xtale. He has his scar, and his eye lights are usually both white. They do not turn red no matter how angry or emotional he becomes. His bone and knife attacks are tinted purple.

[CH 14] “His jacket was different. It was just a couple alterations. A black X-like design on the shoulders of both white sleeves. The large white X-sash was now black. Along the bottom hem of the white jacket were simple black cross-stitches. It was little things but the decals broke up the white in his outfit.”

[CH 45 pjs:] “Cross had grabbed a plain black tank top and loose black sweatpants.”

[CH 46 Ccino visit] “[…] he changed into a black hoodie and pants instead of wearing his more recognizable outfit.”

[GUARD OUTFIT] […] a set of silver Royal Guard armor and a purple cloak. A large Delta Rune is emblazoned on the chestplate in black. The armor also comes with a silver helmet but he did not wear it on the [first] Aftertale mission. When he is acting as Guard, he either covers his scar with white or wears the helmet to hide his face.

[**CH 37] “[…] vertical cracks split the bones by his eye sockets, resembling the scars of his creator. His eye lights burned a volatile purple, their form shivering like they were struggling not to change shape. [CH 38] […] glowing purple cracks on his skull looked like a Gaster’s scars.”

[**CH 42 has healed the scars completely]

Dust:

Dust wears the standard Sans outfit but it looks like its a paler color in places because of all the monster dust. His shoes are gray for that reason. Dust always has his gray hood up unless it’s knocked off his skull. Unlike Killer and Horror (and Cross), his hood does not have fur. He wears his Papyrus’s tattered scarf. His eye lights have a blue center and a red ring around the outside. They can occasionally turn white if he’s feeling peaceful. His bone attacks are indigo, leaning more towards blue than purple.

Dust sometimes sleeps in a light blue t-shirt and dark gray pajama pants with a drawstring. Other times he forgets to change and plops into bed in his usual t-shirt and shorts.

[CH 46 Sciencetale visit] “[…] he pulled at the hood of the hoodie he was wearing. He had seemed to like the dark indigo color[…] Dust's scarf was tucked into the hoodie, leaving only a small bit of the collar visible. A pair of sunglasses covered his distinctive eye lights. Black sweatpants and sneakers completed the outfit.”

Dust Papyrus:

To Ink, Dust Papyrus looks like the barest outline of a ghostly shape of the head, scarf, and hands of a Papyrus. He’s extremely faint and blurry, with binary codes making up his outline.

[**CH 46] “[…] ghostly gloves gained a red color and an equally ghostly skull took form. Finally, [Ink] could clearly see Phantom Papyrus.”

Killer:

Killer also wears the standard Sans outfit except his undershirt is a black turtleneck and his hood has fur on the rim. His soul is usually visible in the form of a red target. When he goes Stage Three, it blurs and thick black liquid pours from his eye sockets and mouth. He never has eye lights. His knife attacks are red while his bone attacks are tinted gray. [Liquid Determination leaks constantly from his eyes.]

He tries not to sleep so he does not change into pajamas.

[CH 4 comment] Killer's Stages are inspired by something he has in Something New/"Killertale". Long story short: "Stage One": Killer is pretty much Sans. This Stage does not happen anymore. "Stage Two": Default Killer. "Stage Three": Killer is out of control and will attack anything. "Stage Four and Higher": run.

[**CH 26, Killer can now renter Stage 1, though he has not done it in yet. Liquid Determination is also not constantly leaking from his eyes. CH 27:] The black marks beneath his eye sockets were thin enough that they could be mistaken for drawn lines.

[**CH 44 showed that the liquid Determination is still affected by his emotions:] “Killer glowered at him. The black lines beneath his eye sockets thickened a little.”

Horror:

Horror has the usual Sans-style outfit. His has fur lining the hood. Horror’s jacket is a bit tattered and shows signs of being torn and sewn back together in a couple places. His left eye is not his own one, he took it from a dead guard in his AU. It’s is a glowing red iris and can go out like most skeleton eye lights. His bone attacks are tinted a faint red. [Horror has two eye lights regularly, just one of them is. big and red.]

Horror has pajama shorts and a t-shirt but he often forgets to change into them. (He’s trying to teach Ink to be better than him at it). [CH 45] “Horror was in a gray t-shirt and black shorts.”

[CH 36] “…those unsettling, mismatched eye lights.” [CH 40] “His right eye light returned with his health (and his hope)” [proof for two eye lights]

Nightmare:

Nightmare doesn’t change clothes. He is his goopy octopus self. When he is particularly angry or in a “mood”, his aura is much darker, like he’s surrounded by shadows.

[**CH 28] “His form rippled, and suddenly he did not appear to be made of black sludge. Instead it was like he was glitching darkness, his form flickering and rippling at its edges as his eye light thinned to a slit and and his fingers sharpened to claw-like points. Ink caught a glimpse of his teeth and was horrified to see they were unnaturally pointed[.]” [His eye also glows a toxic cyan and he smiles with too many teeth. And his tentacles are unmoving most of the time.]

[**CH 37] “Corrupted's grin grew wider, revealing that his jaw had indeed become unhinged like it was broken.”

[**CH 40] “The shadows that held Ink barely resembled Nightmare anymore. He had merged with the darkness, leaving only a toxic eye light visible as his presence expanded […] smoke-like tentacles […] his sharp-toothed smile, which was far too big to fit on Nightmare's face without breaking it apart, oozed with black sludge.”

[**CH 40 returns him to his regular goop form.]

Dream:

Dream has his “current outfit” (the one with the yellow jacket-tunic thing). In the present he always looks tired and has shadows under his sockets.

[**CH 37] “Actual fire rippled in its wake, burning a violent gold. Four wings tore themselves free of Dream’s back, twisting and writhing like each individual feather was made of golden flames and his facial structure was lost in shuddering fire. His eye sockets filled with fire, burning away his eye lights.

[…] Although Dream’s mouth stayed visible through the flames, his teeth sharpened and his fiery grin grew so wide it froze on his face, unable to falter. The fire was such a thick covering over the remainder of his skull that an initial glance made it seem like that smile was all that was left of his face.

His clothes did not burn but they too became flames, curling and lashing in the air like they were mere moments from bursting out into a firestorm and consuming everything in sight, Dream included. Only his circlet remained solid, incandescent upon his fiery head like a halo that matched the glowing intensity of his wings. It was as though the sun itself had taken the form of a dreadful Angel.”

[**CH 39 returns him to his regular intact outfit.]

[**CH 43 sees a peek of] “…a bit of his collarbone that was blackened like it had been burned by flames,” [we don’t know the extent of the burns]

[**CH 45] “The burn scars were actually one big scar centered on his sternum, right where his soul rested. The bones of his sternum, clavicles, and frontal ribs were blackened like charred wood with a thick, circular shape in the middle. Tendrils spread out like wisps of flame, giving the scar an appearance like a black, stylized sun.”

Blue:

Blue is more “Swap” than “Blueberry”. His kerchief is a darker blue color, and he wears a black-gray Royal Guard-inspired “battle body”, blue gloves, and blue boots. His eye lights are also blue. They become blue stars if he is happy and plain white if he’s terrified. His bone attacks are tinted blue.

[**CH 38] […] the slash through the heart sealed, leaving a deep scar much like the one [Ink] himself had gotten from Horrortale Undyne's spear.

Error:

[CH 2] “[…H]is tear marks stained red-purple by the blood that ran from his sockets.”

[Ch 7] “[…] a bit of a black skull and a single haunting red eye socket was visible. A distorted, yellow-ringed blue eye light stared down at them, observing them in silence, before it shrank to a deranged pinprick.

Black, dust-covered skeletal fingers grasped the edge of the portal, not reacting as the edge cut into his hand and what looked like glitching blood dripped down his phalanges.

His black jacket was torn, with the blue ends of its sleeves splattered with monster dust and specks of brownish-red dried blood. His pants were even more discolored, more gray than black and so stained by what must be blood that they clung to the red bones of his legs. One of his shoes was gone, and the strip of fabric around his neck (which might have been a scarf once) was so tattered it resembled a bloody blue bandage more than anything else. Even with his blue-lined hood pulled up over his skull and covering his face in shadow, he was easy to identify.”

[CH 20] “Error's skull stopped melting but the damage was done. Almost half of his head was gone, leaving only his eye light and a bit of his jaw untouched on that side.”

[CH 22] “[…H]is eye lights, which glowed so brightly they almost looked poisonous.”

[CH 48] “He had also fixed and washed his clothes. […] his scarf was no longer torn.”

[**CH 22] “Most of his mandible and zygomatic arch had been repaired. The hole in his skull wasn't anywhere close to being closed but although the tangle of codes in his skull were still horribly warped, more of the bits that were Error's own were visible.”

[**CH 37] “[…] a jagged scar that went from the top of Error’s repaired eye socket, up his forehead and over the top of his skull, and back around to the front through his jaw, where it curled back up and ended at the bottom of his eye socket. It marked exactly where the damage had once been.”

Geno:

[CH 29] “Geno mostly resembled the average Sans, except for the red scarf, melting eye socket, minor glitches, and the large gash across his chest. […] A line of red dripped from Geno’s mouth.” [The glitches around Geno’s eye can come and go, either on command or due to his emotions (negative emotions adding more glitches).]

[**CH 35] “Geno's chest wound seemed a bit less severe and there wasn't a trickle of blood coming from his mouth anymore.”

[**CH 36] “[…] heal the slash across his chest. His eye socket remained melted”

Fresh:

Prism:

[CH 12] “The other Ink still wore mostly brown, but the outfit was much more elaborate than the simple brown pajamas Ink currently wore. The biggest things Ink noticed were the sash of colored vials across the other's chest and the giant paintbrush at their back. And the reflection had a lovely brown scarf.” [He writes on his scarf like og!Ink]

Solus:

[CH 21] “This Ink's outfit was similar to Prism's but with one distinct difference. Part of the "collar" and ends of his scarf were the deep blue of an integrity soul. The other Ink's sleeves and pants were also torn, revealing most of his arms and sections of his legs.

Black marks were visible all over his bones, with a few peeking up just above his scarf. They weren't simple binary codes like Ink's own marks, he realized. They were scars. Physical scars that someone had painstakingly carved into the other Ink's bones […] curling up his jaw and chin.”

[CH 24] “His brown sleeves were mostly gone, showing most of his arms, while his pleated brown pants were torn enough to reveal bits of his tibias, fibulas, and femurs. His ripped pant legs were uneven, their bottoms stained with a black liquid that could be ink or his own blood. The brown leggings Ink wore under his pants were absent from Solus, leaving the bottom parts of his legs and his feet completely bare.

[…] One of his eye lights often shifted color and shape whenever he blinked, sticking mostly to pastels or a stoic, guarded gray. The other was always the deep blue of an integrity soul no matter what emotions he felt or what shape they became.”

Other canon content for handy reference:

Cross is afraid of cows

Spaghetti is (probably) Ink’s favourite food

Ink scratched himself to the point of bleeding while stuck in his AU

[CH 24] ‘Solus’ did not speak much, instead preferring to use sign language and gestures. When his hands weren’t moving in small, careful motions, they held onto the blue edges of his stained and torn brown scarf or clung to his equally battered and scarred version of Broomie.

[CH 40 Broomie’s magic is…] black for portal creation, which would be useful if Ink's own magic was blocked off again. Brown for shielding simply because Ink liked brown, yes? Purple for enhanced durability to allies. Cyan for non-harmful entanglements. Blue for damage to moving targets. Green for Broomie's own regeneration capabilities only, unfortunately. Yellow for precise distance shots. Orange for damage to targets that were still. Red for purely corrosive splatters that could melt through flesh and bone- and Corruption. [Ink only has black and green magic.]

Broomie is referred to with they/them pronouns

Paprika loves dino egg oatmeal, like UT!Papyrus

Only Ink, Broomie, and Dust can see Phantom Paps. Only Dust can hear him.

If you have any links to other comments Buddy has made about any designs, or other quotes from the text, pls link them so I can add them ty !!!

[part-time-zombie]

Flawed By Design

pairings: none

summary: remus is happy to be a part of the group now, and he wants to show them how much it means to him. unfortunately, it sounds like they dont quite feel the same.

tags/warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, vent fic, self-destructive remus, unsympathetic sides, brief suicide ideation, ow this one hurt

word count: 3514

It was a pleasant morning in the mindscape. The weather was warm but not humid, with a gentle breeze and a speckling of fluffy white clouds in the bright blue sky. Birdsong drifted through the air as if in celebration of this marvelous morning, a cheery start to this lovely day.

Remus didn’t notice or care. He had spent the last two days cooped up in his room working on his latest project, far too absorbed in the obsessive enthusiasm of his work to even acknowledge the passage of time. It was certainly well past time for breakfast by now and Remus was definitely in the mood for a snack or two, but this was way more important. It had taken him hours of planning and plenty of pain in his hands, but his work was finally finished. He stretched and sat up with a wide grin, admiring his newest masterpiece.

It was a doll, small but sturdy and sewn with more practiced care than Remus even thought he had in him, crafted in Janus’ likeness.

The idea had come to him after the Secret Santa, when he saw the piss poor attempt at a gift his brother had given Janus. Socks, really? As if that somehow made up for his petty bitch slap? Well, Remus was ready to show his brother what a proper gift looks like, and what better present than a personalized plush like the other sides had?

It took time to get what he needed, gathering the materials by rifling through the sides garbage when they were too busy to notice. He had already used up everything he could from Joanne Fabric but there were plenty of recyclable items in everyone else’s rooms, and it’s not like they’d miss stuff they’d already thrown away. One side’s trash is another side’s treasure and all that. He had taken the hair from their hairbrushes for stuffing, spare scraps of cloth from their trash, and even repurposed a couple of the socks from the dryer, along with the lint he had found there. By far the best thing he had found was the shed snakeskin he had pulled from Janus’ trash. Remus didn’t even know Janus could shed, but it was definitely cool. All he needed left was a reference for the pattern, so he had nicked Roman's plushie from his room as well. He was sure Roman wouldn’t mind too much, and he was going to put it back when he was done anyway.

Once he had what he needed, he got straight (hah) to work and didn’t stop. He wanted to make sure he could get it right, and what better way to do that than with a rough draft.

His eyes drifted over to his own plushie Remus, letting himself feel a twinge of pride in his finished project. It wasn’t completely like the Roman plushie, but then again that was the point of it being a rough draft. It was flawed by design, and he liked it that way. The plushie stared back at him with a lopsided smile that was barely visible under the crooked mustache he had embroidered. There was a spattering of blood on it from where he had pricked his fingers over and over as he stitched, but it only made the doll look even cooler in Remus’ opinion. The outfit looked surprisingly good and it matched his own quite well, even though it lacked the more subtle details and designs he couldn’t properly apply. The limbs were a little longer and looser than they were supposed to be, with the seams visible and the stitchwork evident. He had used buttons for the eyes after he gave up on embroidery, and they only added to the Coraline/voodoo ragdoll look of the plush.

It was creepy and morbid and cool in a weird way, just like him.

The Janus doll was much better than his own, at least in quality. The seams were more subtle, the outfit more defined. He had even managed to make a tiny hat for the doll after discreetly borrowing Janus’ original to copy off of. He had originally attempted to stick the shed skin right on the doll, but when that failed he instead sewed sequins to the left side of the face as scales. They sparkled and shone in the light in a way that Janus’ own scales never did. The button eyes were two different colors, an ordinary brown one and a yellow-green one for his snake eye. It was far closer in size and proportions to the plushie Roman reference, and while it wasn’t exactly like the real deal it was still impressively close. It really was some of his best work.

Remus leaned back in his chair and smiled, relishing the aching stiffness in his back as if it were a badge of honor. What better gift to give Janus than his own unofficial plushie, a symbol of his acceptance into the group? The mere thought of it brought a warm glow to Remus’ chest. Janus had been struggling and fighting for recognition for years now, and now that he had it he deserved his own plush like the others. Besides, Remus felt he ought to thank Janus for giving him a nice day. It had been the best day he’d had in a very long time, and he wanted to do something to let Janus know he appreciated it even if he wasn’t the best at showing it outright.

Janus really did deserve something nice for putting up with him all this time, anyway. After Virgil abandoned them like that they had no one left but each other, and Remus would have lost what little of his mind he had left if he had been completely alone. Instead, Janus stayed with him and kept him company, and while their little family had diminished, he at least still had a part of it with him. Now they were being accepted by Thomas, and he could finally be around his brother again. He could see Virgil more and hang out with Logan and Patton in a way he was never able to, and he wanted to show them that he was happy to be a part of them now. They all had their own plushies, and now so did Janus and Remus. It was perfect.

He grabbed the leftover stuff from the other sides and left his room for the first time in days. He planned on sneaking everyone’s things back to where he had grabbed them, and then he would go back and grab the plushies to show the others. Or even just show Janus in private at first.

He crept down the hall to the others’ rooms when he heard muted conversation downstairs. The voices were low but he could tell that most if not all of the sides were in the living room. Well, if they were all down there then he could just give them their stuff back directly. Remus was sure they’d appreciate that. He made his way to the top of the stairs as he tried to get a better sense of their conversation, curious about what they could all be talking about.

“I just don’t see why you’re defending him,” Roman snapped, struggling not to shout.

“I’m not, I’m just saying that if we hear him out- “, Patton started.

“What? He’ll change? This is Remus we’re talking about, he’s not capable of being anything other than a troublesome pain in the ass and you know it,” his brother said with a groan.

Remus bit his lip until it bled. Sure, he knew he was a lot to deal with, but surely he wasn’t that bad, right? Besides, that was just Roman talking, the others probably felt differently about him.

"While I hate to say it, Roman may have somewhat of a point,” Logan chimed in. “Remus is a representation of Thomas’ darker and more disturbing thoughts and creativity; we can’t expect him to suddenly stop being that now. Wanting Remus to tone that part of himself down is like asking Virgil to not be anxious about a stressful scenario.”

"First of all, rude,” Virgil grumbled. “And secondly, I’ve dealt with him long enough to know that he can’t change, mostly because he doesn’t want to.”

Remus stayed on top of the stairs, uncertain whether he could move away even if he wanted to. All he could do was listen in to what the others were saying about him.

"I don’t see why any of you are complaining about him at all,” Janus drawled. “You aren’t stuck with him all day every day. I can’t even get away from him half the time, putting up with his little ramblings and pranks and all kinds of nonsense. I’m getting a headache right now just thinking about it,” he said with a sigh. Remus could imagine him rubbing his temples as he spoke.

"Yeah, well it serves you right, you really aren’t that much better than him anyway,” Roman replied with a scoff. If Remus could move right now, he’d have bashed Roman's skull in for that.

"At least I’m being helpful here,” Janus replied. “It’s not like anyone else is, not even Remus.”

Remus let their things fall from his limp hands with a gasp, distantly registering the clattering of the sides’ belongings as they fell to the floor. The Roman plushie bounced slightly upon impact and rolled downstairs to join its real-life counterpart. Even Roman's doll didn’t want to be with him.

The conversation came to a halt as they all no doubt noticed the noise and the plush come from upstairs. As the realization sank in that the other sides were now aware of his presence, Remus turned and raced back to his room, not caring how much noise he made. He slammed the door shut behind him with a loud bang before locking it for the first time in his life with shaky hands.

He really thought they were past all of that by now, or at least on the way to moving on from it. He did try to keep his thoughts to himself, but it was hard to hold all of those ideas down without a few of them slipping out. It wasn’t his fault that his mind could only make the most morbid of musings, that his head was full of all things strange and off-putting. He knew Patton didn’t enjoy his presence, and Logan made it clear that he didn’t care for him, but to hear his own brother talk about him like that? Knowing that he and Virgil hated him that much? It made his heart sink.

He had already known that he disgusted the others, it was really all he was good at anyway, but even when everyone else hated him he at least still had Janus backing him up. Or at least he thought he did. Now it turns out Janus can’t stand him either, he was just better at hiding it. At a time when Remus felt abandoned by everyone, Janus had stayed with him. He didn’t want to, though. Looking back, it was obvious how much he disliked Remus. All of the times Janus would roll his eyes when he wasn’t looking, the thinly veiled disgust and irritation in his voice whenever Remus asked him something, it all became glaringly clear to him at that moment. Janus didn’t like him; he was just stuck with him because the others didn’t accept him. Now that he had a seat at the table he didn’t need to deal with Remus anymore. He didn’t need to pretend to care about him.

Remus really didn’t know why any of this was surprising him. He wasn’t exactly of the same stock as Janus. Janus was classy and suave and charismatically charming. Remus was gross and creepy and just an absolute freak. Janus said so himself, right before giving Remus that nice day. Even then he had hated him, apparently. Did Janus ever like him? Did Virgil or Roman? Did Thomas?

He knew the answer. No. He wasn’t designed to be anything other than hated, ever since he came into existence. His sole purpose was to be a manifestation of everything that Thomas rejected, everything he didn’t want to associate with. He was made with this in mind, he exists to be despised by everyone, especially his own brother. He’s his polar opposite after all. He is everything Roman isn’t supposed to be; every mistake, every unwanted idea, every forbidden thought.

The muffled sound of knocking at his door got his attention. He could hear someone calling his name, though their identity was drowned out by the flimsy wooden barrier. Maybe it was Roman here to apologize for what he had said. Or Virgil wanting to thank him for Mr. Fuzzy. It might even be Janus asking to come in to just sit and relax with him like they so often did. What little hope Remus could muster died in an instant as he remembered why he was hiding in his room in the first place.

Right, Roman would never apologize for being the perfect sibling he was supposed to be. That was his job, just like Remus was supposed to be the unloved black sheep. And Virgil wasn’t about to mention Mr. Fuzzy at all now that he had buried it away in the back of his closet to be forgotten. Remus hoped Mr. Fuzzy wasn’t too cold or lonely back there, even though it was probably best kept where no one would ever see it. It probably wasn’t even Janus outside his door. He wanted nothing to do with Remus, why would he bother with him at all now that he had his new friends to talk to? No one wanted to talk to him, never had and never will.

The doorknob jiggled slightly, as whoever it was tried to come in only to be stopped by the lock. The knocking got louder, the voice more desperate. A part of Remus wanted to let them in, but he squashed that part down and stomped it out under his boot. What good would letting them in do? All they would do is ask if he was alright, he’d tell them he was fine, and then they’d slap a cheap emotional band aid on the situation with a half-assed “sorry” so they could move on and forget him again. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth any of it.

The intruder kept knocking, kept calling his name, and Remus wanted them gone. He took hold of his Morningstar and bashed at the door, hard enough to splinter the wood.

He sat back down at his desk, looking at the plushies he had finished making earlier that morning. The Janus plush smirked up at him, almost mockingly. The gift he had made for the one side he thought actually cared about him, now a waste of material, time, and care. This stupid doll wouldn’t win Janus back, it couldn’t make him like Remus. He never did to begin with. Besides, if Janus saw this sad excuse for a present he’d probably laugh in his face before shoving it deep in his closet to forget about it the same way Virgil did to Mr. Fuzzy.

“Fucking GO AWAY ALREADY!” He shrieked, warping and distorting his voice to mask the emotion that threatened to spill free at any second. He kept swinging at the door until he broke a whole clean through it, only stopping to look through to the outside. Whoever had been out there was gone now. Remus half wished that they had stayed, and he half wished that they hadn’t shown up at all. He set his weapon down and repaired the door with a wave of his hand.

It hardly even looked like him in the first place. The sequin scales shined obnoxiously bright in a way Janus never appreciated, button eyes lacking any of the mischievous mirth in the deceptive sides own eyes. It was pathetic. Remus was pathetic for actually thinking this was worthy of him.

He threw the Janus plush under his bed, half hoping the monsters under there ate it up so he wouldn’t have to look at his failure anymore.

He drifted his gaze back to his own plushie. It stared back at him, lopsided button eyes piercing his soul. It really was nothing like Roman's plush; it was crudely stitched with stains and seams and crooked features that made it look like some messed up Picasso piece. He took it in hand, turning it over and better examining his so-called “masterpiece”. The blood that spattered its face made it look gross and creepy, and the ill-sewn limbs were all disproportionate and almost laughably bad. The outfit was cheaply done and lacked any real texture or shape, making it easy to forget about so he could better focus on all of the other mistakes. The mustache he had tried and failed to properly embroider was frayed and crooked, and it looked like it could come loose if he so much as stared at it wrong. The hair was matted and undone and the button eyes lacked any expressiveness besides an eerie stare.

It was creepy and morbid and all kinds of wrong, just like him.

He was flawed by design, unlikeable that way.

Why did he think he deserved to have his own doll? He wasn’t a part of anything, and he was definitely not a part of the group. He had no right to go and try to pretend he could be a part of the family when not even Thomas himself wanted him around. He didn’t deserve to belong, and he didn’t need this stupid reminder of just how wrong and unwanted he really was.

His fist tightened around the plush, squeezing it tightly in his hand before he grabbed its head and tore it off with a jerk and a bit back growl. It fell apart easily, the stitches too loose to hold any resistance. It was a clean rip, and he could easily sew it back together. He could still fix it…

He tore the rest of the limbs off, ripping and pulling and clawing and shredding until there was nothing left of the doll. His heartbeat pounded in his skull and ears were ringing, or maybe it was the sound of himself screaming. Either way he was out of breath by the time he had worn himself out, hoarsely huffing like the big bad wolf. The fabric and stuffing flew and fluttered like snow as it softly fell to the floor around him. It wasn’t a plushie anymore, it didn’t even look like him at all now. Now it was just trash, another failure to be thrown away.

He gathered the scattered materials and shoved them deep into his garbage can, pushing past the mountain of crumpled up papers that once held ideas, songs, stories. Contributions.

Mistakes.

He threw a lit match in after the doll, watching as the trash went up in flames. The fire ate up the waste greedily, eager to destroy all of those things that he never should have made in the first place. It was stupid of him to think that he could come up with any good ideas when he wasn’t even a good idea himself. All he could make were bad ideas and failures and godawful nonsense. Just more things that were only good for kindling.

For a moment he thought about giving himself up to the fire, too. Letting the biggest mistake of them all finally burn away and be gone forever, so no one would have to deal with it anymore. It sounded tempting, and he would have done it if he thought it would work. But it wouldn’t, and he knew that. It wouldn’t kill him, wouldn’t destroy him, hell it wouldn’t even hurt him. He couldn’t even get rid of himself, arguably the only good thing he could do for the others.

The knocking returned to his door, softer but still persistent. The same side, or someone else? It didn’t really matter anyway. Whoever it was wasn’t going to make it better, wasn’t going to apologize or care. He stayed put, desperately wishing for the sound to stop. Maybe if he didn’t say anything they’d just give up and go away. They always left him alone before, why would they stick around now? He ignored the knocking, focusing instead on the fire as it started to dwindle and die out. Soon it would leave him too, and then he’d be completely alone. Only this time it would be for forever. Now that he knew that not even Janus liked him, he surely wasn’t going to bother anyone anymore. The very least he could do for them was spare them the pain and frustration of his annoying and unwanted presence. He’ll just stay here until everyone forgot about him completely.

It was probably for the best anyway.

@britt-ish123 @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @rougeside4 @can-i-take-a-stab @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @keitaisghost @nico-the-overlord @new-zee-land