#vague lore? my city now

[trickstarbrave]

so we don’t know a lot about house dagoth before they were destroyed, right. of what we know it’s their sigil, where their base of operations was, and that they were once a respectable house destroyed as traitors. we can try to gleam more information from dagoth ur but it can be hard to tell what is dagoth ur being batshit and lost in the heart sauce vs what might hold actual cultural information about the sixth house

other houses have core pillars that make up a sort of shared identity. we have other houses specializing in mercantile, agriculture, magic, the government/religion (same thing in morrowind), and warriors. what cultural niche did house dagoth excel in to make them a great house, a foundation of resdayn?

i think there is a pretty big void that easily was filled by house dagoth: information

information and secrets are immensely valuable. they are a foundation in chimer teachings all the way back to saint veloth. and their existence would be a threat to the tribunal long after voryn dagoth was killed and before they knew he would come back. it’s also why we don’t know much about them--they were secretive by nature. they had to be. not much is known about their house because they didn’t share much. they were spies and lore masters and communicators. they were insular and cryptic and paranoid. both feared and respected. suspicious enough that no one would bat an eye at the tribunal wiping them out, but also technically still upholding a pillar of chimeri culture that would make them honorable beforehand.

[landfilloftrash]

May I ask for more of your ShinKaru headcanons please? 😀🙏 or even about Manfred, do you have any HC about his wife?

Not gonna lie with you Chief, it took me longer than it probably should’ve to realize that you were using “Karuma” for the second half of the ship name lmaooo (very jovial)

But headcanons for Gregory and Manfred!!! I have those in spades! I won't go into tooooo much detail because we'll be here all day but I can give you some I sent to my partner! But as always I must preface; this is mostly based on vibes, certain lines I cannot quote off the top of my head, and fanfic-- because both characters and their backstories have not been TOUCHED let me see how they GOT HERE

Anyways /lh

In actual canon, my guess is that they met for the first time during the IS-7 incident. More specifically, the first time they’ve actually TALKED.

However, this alone is boring; So I imagine they’ve seen glances of one another in the courtroom. On Gregory’s end, he has seen von Karma in passing, fresh from the courtroom, going into battle, or going over something in the lobby and scowling, given a polite nod to the man or a nice tip of his hat if he was wearing it and mostly classified MvK as “older gentleman with nice taste in clothing.” if he ever sees him again.

MvK on the other hand might have heard of Gregory in passing? Extremely good defense attorney who regularly beats prosecutors; that’s not saying he’s perfect, that would catch the older man’s attention after all, but MvK has probably heard of him and his Justice filled ways and gone “bah. these fools don’t know how to prosecute that’s all, and he’s a naive fool.” If SEEING him without first noticing his badge, might politely nod back or huff a breath in lieu of greeting. If seeing his badge, 100% a nearly uncontrolled sneer. A mere defense attorney. A bug to crush.

And if later down the line Gregory wants to be that cool bug that Manfred studies closer and finds interesting, that’s his own damn business, thank you very much /lh

The only way I see them happening would be if Manfred's wife was either divorced or dead; He brags about his wife's cooking in a contest about baking that man is a wifeguy fo sho

Anyways

They are court rivals!

They match each other blow for blow, which means whatever Manfred’s brand of insane is that trial, Gregory is ready to go with it and turn the tide, and even if he doesn’t win (perfect win streak), the crowd goes away with a sense of “wow. Von Karma was really on the ropes a couple of times.” and Manfred HATES IT. Not the crowd’s whispers— but now people know there’s someone who can actually MATCH his damn insanity and that riles him up to the point of bloodthirsting lust

Gregory ALSO hates it but for a different reason; he's fighting for his gawddamn life with these cases, doing his best as a defense and usually coming so so close but missing just that little something, and von Karma wins.

But he’s stubborn. He will get people their Justice, and he WILL literally die trying so help him gods. That stubbornness extends to von Karma; he WILL win against this man one day, and he’s tenacious and firm, so one day, it WILL happen.

On other hand.. he’s also interested in the amused expressions and sometimes even delighted smile that pops up on extremely brief and rare one second occasions when Gregory pulls a trap of his own or turns von Karma’s trap around; It’s a predator amused that his prey thinks it can win, but playing along and once again trapping the poor creature, but he can’t deny that the expressions make him pause for a moment. Von Karma is very intrigued as he is incredulous about Edgeworth; the fact he only smiles when cornered, so deadly serious and matching fire with fire, a little bit of a nerd! What is this man and why is he so amused by him? He's gonna have an aneurysm

Outside of the courtroom, there’s not much interaction. But… on occasion, they will cross paths while investigating, and almost make a game of it.

They’ll bicker, snip at each other, get close to violence on a couple cases, occasionally even laugh at a stupid/funny comment the other made, quip and quote back and forth like their lives depend on it and should they fail they’ll disintegrate.

Most detectives, especially Badd, the one they most regularly have to deal with, have caught onto this and stay the FUCK out of their way; no matter if von Karma demands they don’t let Gregory onto the scene, they find out later he snuck past them and is up to his thighs in a mystery he’s two thirds of the way figured out

Meanwhile von Karma is already ‘hiding’ witness testimonies and figuring out what he might need to smudge to keep the 'innocents' safe and the 'culprits' put away. While this is a tried and true tactic, and a very welcome one, if he can get away with not doing those things, he prefers it.

Gregory on the other hand, has a notebook for every case he’s been on with MvK as the prosecutor because every time they go against each other he needs to write down every thought that comes to mind in regards to the case. In other cases not against Manfred, he’s decimated the prosecutions arguments before they get off the ground thanks to having to deal with the god of prosecution. But he goes over these notebooks and regularly writes new theories and ideas on what might’ve actually happened, or if he came across the truth and was unable to prove it, circles it, and when they're all actually solved, he closes that notebook permanently.

On the extremely rare occasion that they have NO culprit, but there’s a crime they’ve been assigned to, they have tossed theories at one another, simple to try and one up each other of course. But it’s a different kind of race and game. It’s slower, much more careful.

Manfred once couldn't get to a crime scene up on a hill because it was a terrible pain day and Gregory said nothing about it as he supported Manfred’s almost full weight and let him recover before they actually approached the police and the scene. They never bring it up again and Manfred hates the fact that it even happened, but Gregory soon after finds a small gift basket and a note that says “tell no one. they will never believe you.” and Edgeworth keeps the note.

Gregory is a very calm and chill man, but he has on multiple occasions yelled in true anger at Manfred for certain topics, and Manfred purposefully doesn’t bring those topics up again unless truly relevant, which is almost never.

Manfred absolutely hates Gregory the way you hate a dog. Gregory hates Manfred the way you hate a season.

That's where I'll leave those for now lmao-- but now. Ouuuh. Headcanons about Manfred's wife, huh? She's not so closely my department in headcanons/personal canons like my buddy @.nwdolphin is! But if I were pressed...

May perhaps not be a perfectionist like her husband, but probably strives for it in a way that Manfred saw, appreciated, and partially married her for

I'm not quite sure on ethnicity or name-- depends on if they met in Germany or Japanifornia, and even then it's a mixed bag either way-- but definitely not "noble birth" or whatever if going on with MvK's edwardian outfits /aff Just a normal person from a normal Ace Attorney universe family, so of course her name is a pun/irony.

That being said-- Business woman though. Possibly a CEO of some kind? Possibly just a simple worker. Either way, she commands attention

Softer face for Franziska? She's who it came from!

Like I said earlier in the post; Manfred brags about her cooking! Wifeguy for sure. Her cooking may not be "perfect" but it's made with a genuine effort and a love of the task/people it's made for, so it's perfect to him, goddamnit all, and he will stand by this until he dies

This is all not to say that she's perfectly fine with her husband's bullshit; she calls him out when he gets too Into It

Definitely challenges her husband in more than one way-- whether it be verbally, mentally, or maybe even physically in a sparring match when they were younger and Manfred's leg didn't act out as much!

Manfred fr wouldn't have it any other way; he strikes me as the kind of guy who would decay rapidly without a proper challenge in some way or another (enrichment for the caged tiger in his enclosure please)

I could definitely see her being the one that completely and utterly endorse her youngest daughter wielding a riding crop as little more than two so even she could defend herself

Both of them were definitely so proud of her

Of course her eldest also got a weapon (<- the one who gave them their weapons) who do you think she is

Their granddaughter is named after her, methinks; the eldest keeps in contact enough for Manfred to know her dog's name is Phoenix (whether or not he was simply bluffing on this is irrelevant, I'm taking it and running with it /lh) and even if it isn't, he still knows his granddaughter has a dog who she very much adores.

I think around the time she left his life (death, divorced, missing, etc.) is around the time he truly started to lose the way of how he wants Perfect Justice and instead started to perfectly embody everything wrong with the Law

[liquifiedfurby]

beetlelegs!!!!!! anything u like?! i will keep an eye out for it next time i go to the city

-yeek

“Oh! Um.

Hm.

I don’t actually have that many interests, now that I think about it. I like bugs, but there are more bugs here than in the city… I’m still learning to read, but a book might be nice. I am trying to find an accessory or two for myself but I understand those are hard to find.

So yeah, nothing in particular. Anything would be good, but no pressure. Thanks so much for asking!”

-Beetlelegs

“…The city, huh?”

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #23

Diavolo: What is “lore”

Mammon: Baby don’t hurt me

•

Mammon: Compliment me

Beelzebub: Barbecue sauce

Mammon: Thanks

•

Satan: Once a man now deemed a clown

Solomon: This is without a doubt the funniest description of the joker I’ve ever seen

Leviathan: This is an excerpt from my resume

•

Solomon: When you brush your teeth you are petting your skeleton for a job well done

MC: Smoke meth – Hail Satan

Solomon: What the fuck

•

MC: I haven’t cha cha slid since high school

Mammon: I’ve never seen the cha cha slide referred to in the past tense and I am fucking shaken

•

Leviathan: I’m so glad they removed the “nut” from honey Cheerios

Asmodeus: Now you gotta add your own

Leviathan: Why must you do this to my posts

•

Diavolo: What does it mean when someone says they’re pescatarian and vegan

Raphael: Land animals are innocent of crime but the fish have sinned

•

Thirteen: We only came to this site in the first place b/c we were gay and liked Harry Potter

Asmodeus: I actually came to this site because of onceler incest

Thirteen: Your just gonna say those words huh

•

Leviathan: When manga characters add a heart to their speech… I wish I could do that

Simeon: You can. Just put a little love in your voice. Smile, people hear it

Asmodeus: Moan

Barbatos: Duality of man

•

Simeon: “Clowns are the pegs on which the circus is hung” — P.T. Barnum

Leviathan: Pegging clowns???

Asmodeus: Pegging hung clowns???

Lucifer: This is why this website is worth negative money

•

Mammon: Pregnancy is a hoax the baby sprouts out of the ground I’ve see it happen

Mammon: People pretend to be pregnant for clout it started with one woman named dvd and people been chasing the same high since

Mammon: Meant eve

•

Leviathan: I wish I had an even more vague void than the internet to scream into

Satan: An abandoned Kmart parking lot just before Dawn

Leviathan: Jesus I didn’t say a whole different dimension

•

Belphegor: They’ve got me in some kind of secret facility

Belphegor: Doing experiments on me

Belphegor: I have powers now

Belphegor: I’m gonna fight the government

Solomon: Me when I’m an original character made by a 12 year old

•

Leviathan: I’d rather see 1000 graffiti penises than 1 product billboard. I’d live in dick city if it meant I could avoid advertisements in my daily life

Asmodeus: We built dick city

Mammon: We built dick city on cock and balls

•

Mammon: It’s fun to stay at the y

Mephistopheles: M

Leviathan: M

Thirteen: M

Simeon: *smacks the side of my boom box to get it to stop skipping*

Luke: C

Satan: Young man

•

Solomon: People in the 70s would wake up and be like I need to go hitchhiking right now

MC: Mfs be like good morning Susan! Another serial killer in the paper today, so not groovy! Welp, time for our daily car ride with a stranger!

Mammon: I’d reply to this post but I’m waiting for my Uber

•

Satan: Imagine searching your whole life for the chosen one who will destroy the matrix and save the human race and you find him and he’s fucking Keanu Reeves

Diavolo: YOU FIND HIM DOING WHAT

First • Last • Next

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

How about a Hualian x calamity!reader oneshot? Maybe HC and reader know each other already and pursue XL together? Idk, love your writing tho!

Gang up

Hua Cheng x calamity!reader x Xie Lian

So sorry it took a while, I had strep these past few days but I feel good now so ty for being patient with me 😙🖤🖤

I tried to make it vague enough to where you can input your guy's own character in there 🥰🙏

I hope it isn't too short, and if you can't tell I pulled some make believe facts out of my ass. Have to change the story up a little bit

Spoilers Below!!!

____________________________________

Everyone talks about the four calamities, but recently all three realms have been talking about a fifth one. Another terrifying, devastation level calamity. Because that's all the heavenly officials, someone else to worry about.

That's your bad, woops. It's not like it was on purpose. Maybe. It's not like it was your fault. Really! They should have known by now but your crimes and deeds have been hidden behind Crimson rain's for so long, everyone has thought there were only four calamities. Now, with so much activity from Hua Cheng it's impossible to hide behind him. Oh well.

Now you get your own title, lore, rumors and all that nice stuff since everyone knows you now. It's crazy how fast words spread.

You've always been here, in fact you and Hua Cheng appeared one right after the other. So of course with such a close timeline one of you was going to overshadow the other. Not that you have a problem with this.

Surprisingly you and Hua Cheng know each other well. You met a long, long time ago and have been friends ever since. Since you're such close friends. Why not live in paradise manor together, why not rule a ghost city together too? The two of you really are glued to each other's side.

The base of your friendship? Xie Lian. Now of course it's more than that. You're both dead, both calamities, both know Xie Lian, would do anything for Xie Lian, both knew Xie Lian. . .

You guys still hold affections for one another though so it's okay. And the best thing? I lied. You guys aren't friends at all. After hundreds of years of knowing each other you and Hua Cheng have seen the absolute worst in one another. You still stayed. He still stayed. Just because you guys are lovers doesn't mean that you're going to stop pursuing Xie Lian either. There's nothing wrong with three.

Now the second best thing is that none of you harbor jealousy against the other because usually you guys are side by side like Siamese cats causing trouble.

Very often the two of you gang up to pursue Xie Lian together. You guys even bully heavenly officials together. It's all a part of the fun.

So when Xie Lian initially hears about one ghost? He meets two. Like, okay so he has two calamity body guards. Neat. The same goes as follows. Just when he thought he only had to deal with one smart mouth, it's two. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are very annoyed by this but Xie Lian finds it endearing.

It's actually very nice. He used to have two people by his side, but then the trio was separated. Now he has two people by his side again and he doubts that you two will be leaving anytime soon.

Though, since you're actually a known calamity now the stories and details change up a little bit. Xie Lian can click a few more pieces of the puzzle together.

I mean how do you think Hua Cheng got so good in bed, he wasn't practicing on statues alone. How did Hua Cheng get his smooth, suave, attitude? That'd be you too. You had to encourage him to actually make a move on his precious dianxia instead of seeing him act like a blushing maiden anytime Xie Lian looks at him.

Not that you can speak differently on that one. You've always been there through Hua Cheng's worse and. . . worser. You're both awfully silly. Silly enough to give Xie Lian your ashes one random day.

When Xie Lian woke up with a ring of ashes around his neck? Pause. One ring? Isn't one missing? There's two of you. Hua Cheng and you so, where are your ashes.

He's absolutely delighted and curious when he finds out the two of your ashes are mixed. He finds it endearing the two of you trust each other that much and are so close. That's how he learned the two of you were lovers.

Because that's a big risk, a big promise. To mix your ashes and give it to one person. If Hua Cheng goes, you go too. If you go, Hua Cheng goes too. Which on a usual note would never happen.

Hua Cheng breaking Xie Lian's shackles is not a usual note though. He's devastated when not only one of his lovers fades away into a flock of butterflies but when his other lover does too.

The two of you would never leave him alone though, not with that ring around his neck. He knew you two would come back and you both did. Hand in hand, running to Xie Lian excitedly. The two of you would never have to disappear like that again.

Xie Lian doesn't mind that there's two of you. he has two hands, more the merrier. He's happy and loved. Isn't that all that matters?

____________________________________

I thought this new ashes idea of mine was cute so 🥰🙏 I hope you guys find it cute too

Sorry about grammar mistakes

[sailoryooons]

Incubus yoongi x reader

Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much

☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader

☾ Summary: 

Sunder (sun·​der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space Sunder (sun·​der) intransitive verb : to become parted, disunited, or severed

☾ Word Count: 5,297

☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut. 

☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024

☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!! 

☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾Filled Requests ☾ Masterlist  Milestone Request Event ☾ Ask

Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!

A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.

And he’s staring at you. 

You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention. 

Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters. 

There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom. 

It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be. 

Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them. 

“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”

Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.” 

A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”

With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady. 

Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly. 

A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching. 

You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.

You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor. 

You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you. 

“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.” 

Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.

It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity. 

“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty. 

“It will be done.”

“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”

Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.” 

The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain. 

Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.

Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.

Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open. 

The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas. 

Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment. 

A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully. 

Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls. 

To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping. 

Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies. 

It stings a little more than you’d like. 

Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows. 

Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else. 

He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath. 

“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?” 

“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.” 

“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.” 

“Don’t.” 

You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there. 

“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?” 

“Yes.”

“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”

You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.” 

“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.” 

You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.

Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated. 

You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist. 

Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else. 

A puppet. 

Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that. 

“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”

“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”

That sours your stomach. “Bel.” 

“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”

“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”

“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?” 

“You do have me.”

“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.” 

The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse. 

Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart. 

You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude. 

“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”

“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”

Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him. 

These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart. 

You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you. 

Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.

Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses. 

Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment. 

You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship. 

Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.” 

He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.

Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly. 

A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit. 

Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark. 

The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.

Still, they try. 

The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome. 

You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair. 

Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused. 

You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.

You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface. 

You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales. 

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone. 

It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue. 

Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.” 

“I will try.” 

“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.” 

Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone. 

You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.

It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance. 

“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.” 

“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?” 

You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again. 

Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected. 

It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you. 

His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak. 

A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you. 

“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.” 

A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes. 

“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.” 

Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”

It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be. 

Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal. 

Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial. 

When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe. 

“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”

“No. Not with you. Never with you.” 

His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.” 

“The Whip of Asmodeous?” 

“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.” 

[thefirstknife]

Hi! I was wondering if you could explain the lore surrounding Saint and how he says he looked up to us? That whole time fuckery always confused me + the Vex apparently made him a tomb? What was that about? I really just have no idea what happened in Season of Dawn

Yes!

So, we should start with Osiris being exiled from the City (some time around the Twilight Gap, unclear when exactly, but vaguely at that time). Osiris packed his stuff and left to go do his research in peace; he went to Mercury for the Infinite Forest.

This upset Saint a lot and he decided to go after him. He even left a letter for him which destroys me every time:

Ship's Final Log: Osiris. I hope whatever you find in this place is worth it. My recommendation to install you as Vanguard Commander was not a gesture to stroke your ego. It was an order to stay and help the City achieve all that it could. An order you refused to follow. News of my demise will no doubt reach you late. I can already see your response—the guilt that will follow, however fleeting. I thought you had changed after Six Fronts; that seeing your people on the brink of destruction and spared from death would be reward enough to stay. To fight. I'll fight in your stead one last time.

However, note the following at the end:

To my inspiration. Your final gift to me I now send back to you. It will be good to see you again.

This was very bizarre at the time because there was no context to this. While we knew some little bits and pieces of Saint's story before, it wasn't until Curse of Osiris that we got the proper introduction.

Fast forward, Saint entered the Forest after Osiris and got lost in there. He wandered a lot, fought the Vex, eventually got them so upset that the Vex put all of their resources into constructing a special Vex Mind that was capable of draining Saint's Light. When they succeeded, Saint died in the Forest. The Vex were so impressed that they came to respect him enough to make a tomb for him in the Forest:

Finding this tomb was a quest in Curse of Osiris: links to the full questline. When we got to the tomb, we took information from Saint's body and used it to forge his gun: Perfect Paradox. The lore on it is also very peculiar, addressing someone that Saint looked up to. Again, we could only speculate at the time because we didn't have the whole story, but it appeared there was some sort of weird shenanigans here that potentially involved us, the player. Important:

All I have left is this weapon. The Cryptarchs say you crafted it yourself, built it out of scraps and Light and sheer will, inside the Infinite Forge.

We did indeed do that. But how can Saint know that and why is he addressing us? We've never met him; he disappeared into the Forest long before we existed.

It would take 3 years for this to be resolved, in Season of Dawn. In Season of Dawn, Osiris revealed that following our discovery of Saint's tomb, he went to work on creating the Sundial. The sole purpose of the Sundial would be to essentially allow entry into Saint's personal timeline and past, to find him in the right moment, and save him from certain death. Osiris tried to do this himself and failed. For some reason, he could not find the right Saint in the right moment. He begrudgingly gave up and put the Sundial away.

When it was discovered by the Psions and used for their nefarious purposes, Osiris told us about this briefly and let us give it a shot to try and find Saint. He advised against it and deemed it "an impossible task." However, unknown to him (and us), we were the link needed to make this possible.

We went in there and we found the right Saint in the right moment. We found him desperately fighting against the Eliksni on Mercury in his personal past, during the Dark Age. We met up with him and helped him win. After that, we talked to him. Saint seemed super defeated and hopeless, but Ghost then told him about the future where people are safe and showed him a projection of the City from the future. We also gave him the Perfect Paradox. Our Ghost pulled our weapon that we made and gave it to Saint.

The Shotgun you crafted in the Infinite Forge is reacting to the Sundial! An onboard transponder is broadcasting coordinates: a path through the Sundial, crossing two time periods. The prophecy blueprint you used to create the Perfect Paradox must have included this broadcast.

This was the link between us and Saint that allowed us to use the Sundial to save him in a way Osiris could not. The gun is a bootstrap paradox: it exists "out of nowhere" basically. We give it to Saint in his past and we pick it up from his body in the future and then we take it back to the past and give it to him. Saint had information needed to craft it because we gave him the gun, but we only gave him the gun because he had it in the first place.

Saint takes the weapon and we leave him in his personal timeline, but to him, at the time, we're a hero who saved him and showed him a future where the City thrives and people are safe. He kept that hope with him and considered us someone who inspired him to do better and to fight. He could never explain who we were, because for everyone else we did not exist yet: Saint only met us because we showed up from the future to meet him.

We end up going back to the Sundial to find Saint again in the right time when he's found by the Vex Mind designed to drain his Light. Only this time he doesn't fight alone and we save him, essentially changing the course of time. Saint doesn't die; we save him and he's able to stay in the Forest until we can open it from the outside years later in the present day.

Saint never forgot about us and how we saved him and gave him the shotgun. He spent his life with us as an inspiration; someone who appeared out of nowhere and promised him that one day the City will be safe and people protected. It kept him going, even when nobody really understood what he was talking about. Osiris also mentions this when we finish the quest:

In his youth, he talked often about the Guardian who inspired him. I should have guessed it would be you.

Osiris I promise that it's okay that you couldn't guess that Saint was talking about a Guardian time travelling from the future.

I definitely recommend checking out both quests for this whole thing, they're really cool, especially the ones from Dawn because they're more expansive and also Saint is alive there. But the setup from Curse of Osiris is really neat because they heavily hinted at Saint coming back since then. Both the exotic ship and the shotgun itself have lore that clearly reference Saint having already met us, a plotline that we waited 3 years to resolve.

Hopefully that makes a bit more sense!

[lynaferns]

Biomáquina AU

(do not ship my character)

(Edit: sorry, I forgot to add the colorless ver. too)

Probably going to redesign, I didn't have a clear idea of how I wanted them to look like when I made this.

So basically, I had an idea one day for an artwork about Sun in a big dark room like lab with computers, science stuff... and plushies, toys, crayons, childlike drawings everywhere and in the middle of the room Sun was sitting there with cables conected to his head and going so high to the ceiling they desapeared in the dark.

Vague recreation of the idea (I used it as a warm up because artblock)

And I was like, man what a cool idea.

...

what if it had lore?

And I made the story in two days and forgot about it.

I made THE STORY in two days, the concept art took me several and when it was finished I went 'OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT MOON' so I added him to the concept art... and to the story, which didn't change much but helped.

So the story lore whatever frankly idk:

Retrofuturistic world where Fazbear Entertainment is making experiments in animatronics with a sustance that makes inorganic components organic. Basically making the animatronics far more alive than they could ever have been (literally alive, like in a messed up way). Biological machines, for example: in the concept of Sun/Moon those teeth and eyes are pretty much real...

This would be called Biotecnologic, which is illegal to practice without a licence and state permision, and only for human benefit (prostetics for disable people for exsample). Fazbear Entertainment had to drop the project right the moment biotecnologi went illegal or they were going to jail. Which means now there are abandonet facilitys with a ton of disconected rotten animatronics... Except for one that turned back on for some reason...

Some time later, this idiot named Fern (selfinsert because idk how to do y/n so I toke my selfinsert and made a few changes, same name) who illegaly exited the city to illegaly dumspter dive in trash the goverment trows out of the city and into the nature outside (which prevents the world from healing right because they are dumb), went a little fared than they usually go and ended up finding the abandonet facilitys of Fazbear Entertainment. This idiot said 'haha cool :D' and went right inside. And that's how they met Sun (and Moon) who has amnesia and doesn't know why the place is empty or why this new person who knows nothing about is stealing lab equipament while intensely staring at him.

They got to be friends and started investigating the place trying to find out what happened in there before the project got canceled.

And a lot more but my brain is a little fried right now and it took me some effort to write this.

Feel free to ask me about this AU (I'll do my best to give a comprehensible answer).

[satoruxx]

NORTHERN LIGHTS.

✧ PAIRING: kaeya alberich x fem!reader | 4.5k words

✧ SUMMARY: smut, p -> v, praise, fingering, lots of pining, angst, angsty bc it’s kaeya tbh lol, kaeya lore but it’s vague, also military themes bc sometimes we forget kaeya is a captain and i love the knights of favonius, he’s highkey got commitment issues but i think he’s valid, man is whipped tho, he's just an overthinker and traumatized, also can you tell i’m a med student?

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: first i have to apologize bc this is SO late??? i got this request back for my 200 event, asking for kaeya with the song northern lights by kennie (which is such a good song). at first i was gonna make it a short little drabble, but the more i wrote, the more i wanted to make it a full fic, which is what ended up happening. kaeya's character has so much depth and i wanted to explore it hehe. northern lights is such a fitting song for him so i just had to go all in. but i'm so sorry that i got to your request so late, hopefully you still enjoy it lovely! (even tho it’s not the main focus in this fic, this is technically my first real smut fic so take it with a grain of salt; i don't think i write it that well LMAO)

it was rare to truly know your own weaknesses, but kaeya knew his a little too well. behind his carefree, unbothered exterior he cared a little too much. he cares a little too much when klee tugs on his fur cape and whines about a scolding she’s gotten from jean, and he ends up indulging her with whatever she’d like. he cares a little too much when rosaria spills just a tad more than usual during her drunken ramblings. he cares a little too much when he sees the discomfort in the face of certain fiery bartender as they speak, and he consistently lies awake and remembers days when that discomfort between them didn’t exist.

it’s a curse, he thinks, because he always ends up feeling too attached to people he knows he shouldn’t be attached to.

even now, his weakness is acting up as he barks orders to his soldiers. they scramble around him as they enter the city, carrying their wounded brethren to safety up at the cathedral. kaeya knows he shouldn’t blame himself but as their captain he feels like he should’ve seen this coming. new recruits wouldn’t be able to handle the hordes of monsters at daduapa gorge—he miscalculated.

“take them to the sisters at the cathedral. sister barbara and the others should be able to heal them,” kaeya commands, clasping one of the men’s shoulders and helping him up to the church. he’s ignoring the now dull throbbing in his side as blood stains his clothes—his soldiers were most important right now. like he said, he cared a little too much.

the nurses had set up a medical station at the cathedral, and in between all the commotion, kaeya’s finally able to hand over the groaning soldier to a nurse, who immediately gets to work.

he then takes a few steps back to assess the damage, grateful that all of his soldiers are getting the attention they needed. he’d hate himself if there were any losses today.

he doesn’t even realize that he’s now leaning against the wall, panting shallowly as blood continues to pour from his abdomen. oh well, he’d wait his turn—only after his soldiers were taken care of.

kaeya shuts his eyes, letting his body rest for a minute.

“you’re wounded.”

his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him. he assumes you’re not one of the nuns because your clothes are entirely different. you’re young, appearing to be around his age as you eye his torso critically.

“it appears so,” he answers.

“did someone take a look at you yet?”

“i’d prefer all my soldiers be taken care of first.”

your eyes flash with recognition. “so you’re captain kaeya?”

“indeed i am.” he lets his eyes roam over your concerned features.

you give him a small smile before continuing with a sigh. “i can safely tell you that all the wounded are being treated. i’m still an apprentice so i’m only here to deal with the non fatal injuries. like yours, captain.” you crouch down in front of him, fingers reaching towards his clothing with a silent question of permission. he lets his hand slacken as he gives you a nod and you attempt to peel back as many layers as you can to asses the damage before you’re motioning him towards a tent.

a few minutes later and kaeya is letting you strip his torso bare until you have a full view of his injury. your fingers brush over the wounded skin gently, and he wonders if you even touched him at all. “it’s long, but not too deep. a few stitches and you should be alright. if you’re okay with it, i’ll get started,” you tell him.

kaeya wants to tell you that he’s no stranger to the pain of injuries, but he finds something oddly refreshing about your comforting attitude, so he just says yes and lets you begin to work.

you thread through the skin with a delicate hand and despite the sting he honestly can’t even focus on it, choosing instead to analyze your features.

he realizes that you’re awfully pretty.

kaeya makes small talk with you as you work, partly to stay awake through the pain and mostly because he can’t stop his curiosity. he finds out your name, your hobbies, your goals. you may not have the most exciting life but kaeya thinks there’s something so alluring about you it makes him a little dizzy. he's not sure what it is, but he thinks about it the whole time you tend to his wound. realization hits when you finally finish, looking up at him with a smile, and kaeya realizes that your eyes hold the stars in them.

it’s hard to explain but when kaeya watches you work, nose scrunching in the dim lighting of the tent, he thinks you remind him of home.

(kaeya has chased the stars for as long as he can remember. he remembers shouting with diluc in the grass behind the winery, the two of them reaching for celestia because the stars up there were so undeniably pretty.

"we're never gonna get them!" diluc would laugh, trying hard to balance kaeya on his little shoulders. "they're too far…"

and kaeya only grins down at him toothily, raising his fists to the sky. "no way! i'll catch them one day!"

and yet his whole childhood went by without being able to capture the stars. as he grew older he started to learn that it was impossible to steal what the sky so selfishly held on to.

but even as an adult, kaeya knows to appreciate the stars when he gets the privilege to see them in the sky.

especially after he finally seems to find them in the dim glow of a medical tent.)

he hates to admit how often his eyes seek you out after that one encounter. sometimes he’ll see you at the cat's tail, giggling with your friends as you slam tcg cards down on the table triumphantly. other times he’ll catch a glimpse of you at good hunter, chewing on a quick meal as you browse through a book. almost every time he gets caught staring you only smile and offer him a little wave that sends his brain into a frenzy.

(maybe in another life kaeya would allow himself the luxury. he’d let himself go through the motions for you. let himself stress every time you threw a glance his way. work up the courage to ask you out on saturday afternoon. finally get the chance to press his lips to yours. trace your skin with nimble fingers and have the privilege to call you his.

in another life maybe.

but for now he’ll just keep you his own little secret—a guilty pleasure he’ll indulge in because it’s hard to rid an addiction, especially if you don’t have the will to rid it in the first place.)

kaeya’s messed up this summer. he knows it in his soul that he’s made the wrong decision as he watches you babble about something as you lean against his bare chest, still basking in your own afterglow.

he knows that he should have resisted the temptation. as soon as he and the troops got back and he saw you sitting in a secluded corner at angel’s share he knew that his feelings for you hadn’t dissolved.

they say absence makes the heart grow fonder and kaeya only now knows this to be true because just the sight of you sends his mind into a frenzy. you could probably feel his gaze on you because you look up from the book you’re reading and make straight eye contact with him. for a second, he wants to turn away but then you smile at kaeya like you’ve never once forgotten him, and he’s putty. before he knows it, he’s buying you a drink and walking over to your little corner to make himself comfortable.

it’s a slow descent for him because in his head he knows he shouldn’t get too attached. he’ll leave again soon with the troops, and who knows maybe he’ll leave them behind one day too. his future has always looked so clouded to him, and he knows you belong in the sun. he’d like to leave you there in the light—avoid dragging you into his darkness.

so he tries to keep it simple, occasionally meeting you for a drink or catching up around the city. but then you’re showing him your favorite place to study near starfell lake and he’s showing you his favorite stars while laying on his back on starsnatch cliff. and he knows he can’t avoid it.

soon enough he’s giving into everything he said he wouldn’t, finally finding out what you taste like. finally knowing how his name sounds when it falls from your lips.

it's more addicting than he could've predicted, the feeling of your breath against his skin as you pant out his name. kaeya can't even bring himself to pull away from you to stop and think for a second. if he did then maybe he could slap some sense into himself and draw some distance because archons above he was digging himself deeper into this hole. but he can't, not when you're gripping his shoulders as he presses you against the wall of his bedroom, whining into his lips for all that he can give you.

and kaeya is nothing if not generous.

so he indulges both you and himself—the perfect mix of selfless and selfish as he guides you to his bed, nimble fingers loosening the ties of your clothing until you're bare in front of him. he can see the bashfulness settling into your cheeks and he almost feels like goading for just a minute, but he decides he'll be nice.

you've always deserved a nice guy anyway.

he tries to push that thought away, instead distracting himself with the heat of your body, his fingers dancing along your skin eagerly. maybe, just this one night, he can let it be about you two. he can afford to forget about all the old promises he's made—all the responsibilities and duties he devoted himself to a lifetime ago.

kaeya ignores the flush of heat crawling up his neck as he hovers over you, caging your body underneath his as you squirm in anticipation. he understands—the tightness in his pants is enough for him to feel the same. but he's not worried about that, not when his fingers part your thighs eagerly, brushing over heated skin and finding slick wetness there as he dips into your cunt. he hears the sharp intake of breath, the quiet restrained moan, and he preens. kaeya revels in the sounds he pulls from your lips as his fingers curl against your slick heat, your head lolling back against his pillows.

there's a possessive streak of something that cuts through him then—something that tells him how he aches to be the only one who gets to hear those sounds.

it makes him slightly sick.

kaeya realizes then—he's been quite stupid when it comes to you. he's kept the maelstrom of feelings brewing in his soul trapped under all his bravado, arrogant and cowardly all at once. he needs to tell you, needs to be honest because this isn't something he can trick his way out of.

but all he wants to do is run. run so far away from you because he doesn't want you to to get caught up in his own ruin. you're far too good for him, too sweet and carefree to be tainted by his sin-laden hands. he needs to run.

but he does none of that, not when he's guiding his fingers to the apex of your thighs and exploring territory he knows he shouldn't claim. because then you look at him with an expression so blissful—so thankful, relieved that he's giving you a part of himself he never wanted to—and he can't even be angry about it.

kaeya presses his lips to the swell of your chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart under your skin, and he shuts his eyes as he breathes out your name. you answer with a resounding mewl, catching his eyes even through the dark strands of his hair.

he then chooses to focus on pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt because archons do you look heavenly when your eyes roll back like that.

but it scares him, the way you leave him open and exposed and aching even when he doesn't want to be.

in his head you're perfect, all bright and glowing under him as you chant his name like he's some kind of savior. but kaeya isn't a savior—if anything he's destruction in human form, sent by the heavens to wreak havoc on those around him. he'd destroyed enough already—he doesn't think he can do it to you too.

but archons the way you're looking at him now, from under fluttering lashes and dewy eyes that shine even brighter when they're trained on him—begging, pleading, and oh so trusting of him and every thing he wants to give you. he can't even help himself.

"i know, sweet girl," he sighs, voice strained as you buck your hips just perfect—a temptress, sent to lead him to his doom. and yet he can't stop his fingers from pushing back your hair from your sweaty skin, knowing that he should be careful because he doesn't want to destroy something as fragile as this.

"kaeya please," your breath comes out in short desperate pants, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders haphazardly.

"i know," he repeats, reaching down to heft your thigh over his waist as he slots his hips against your own, biting back a groan at the sensitive brush against his cock—throbbing, aching, needy.

"ah fuck," he's almost shy at the way his voice shakes as he lines his cock up, the heat and slickness of your cunt a teasing caress against his sensitive head. he drops his forehead against your shoulder, breathing heavily even before he's inside you because something about this makes him so incredibly nervous. a single desperate whine and the soft squeeze of your fingers into his biceps and he's stilling—breath catching, heart pounding.

for a moment, he doesn't even feel like himself. he's not anything, no one.

and then he slides in and kaeya knows that there will never be anything better—another experience that would feel this right in his life.

he pulls out a little, gaze lingering at the sweat beading at your forehead, and something in his chest stutters. "okay?" he traces your face for any hint of hesitation—of the nervousness that he feels in his gut, but all he finds is a stormy mix of desire and devotion.

"uh huh," reassurance, stability—everything he isn't. his brows pinch, eyes shutting because he doesn't want you to know.

he's pulled out of the whirlwind that is his thoughts when he feels your fingers on his cheek, brushing over his skin gently. his eyes snap open, and even through the haze he can feel himself relaxing under your touch, because the way you're looking at him is so undeniably loving and it makes his stomach flip.

"you okay?" you whisper, looking up at him carefully, and kaeya feels as though you've put him between the halves of a microscope slide to analyze him.

"i'm fine," he breathes out, not a lie but not the whole truth either. "don't worry."

his words do little to quell you, but one roll of his hips has your eyes fluttering, a choked moan escaping your throat, and the sound makes his pride sing.

there's an image then—hazy and yet so obvious as his brain registers it. the implications behind it makes his stomach churn.

quiet smiles, hazy kisses, soft goodbyes—and then the inevitable distance as he crosses over the border separating your world from his. a lone figure standing in the streets of mondstadt, always waiting for him to come back. always disappointed.

you buck your hips upward, blissfully unaware of the torrent of conflicting emotions in his head. kaeya's brain short-circuits, and then he's pushing back, a steady rhythm against your gummy walls that takes the breath out of your lungs. you savor every thrust, punctuated by the sharp grunts he lets out against your throat.

your fingers rake over his back, desperate and needy and focused on one thing only—kaeya, kaeya, kaeya.

"that's it sweetheart," he doesn't have any more control—not on his mind, his body, his mouth. they've all escaped his grasp, too spurred on by you and everything you're willing to offer him.

"'s okay…ah fuck…it's okay," kaeya groans into the column of your throat, not sure whether he's telling you or himself. the clench of your walls sends him spiraling, hips picking up the pace as he pistons his cock in and out—trying to find out just how far he can go.

then he hits one spot, and his vigilant gaze catches the way your jaw slackens, eyes glazing over even as they roll back and a shaky moan escapes your throat—surprised, unexpecting. his ego jumps.

an experimental roll of his hips against the same spot and you make a sound so unhinged that he finds himself already addicted to it. and to tease is in his nature.

"yeah? right there?" he drawls, masking his anxiousness with his bravado once again.

"right there," you whimper, nodding meekly as you grip his shoulders. he huffs out a soft laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your eyelids like he's trying to kiss away the tears that have gathered there. you preen under his ministrations—it feels a little too domestic.

he understands. it scares him, but he understands. he wonders what the point of worrying is—wonders why he's letting his paranoid brain taint this moment that he'd been waiting for. the only solution left is to ignore it. because you're here, writhing underneath him in the throes of pleasure, vulnerable and trusting and just for him. he should give you what you deserve after all.

so kaeya pushes every other thought out of his head, only focused on you and making you feel good because that's what someone like you deserves—everything you desire laid at your feet.

he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, paired with a languid roll of his hips as he quietly groans. "okay…." his voice comes out an octave lower, pushed down by the barely concealed need for you. "okay sweet girl. i've got you."

another searing kiss as he breathes through his nose, picking up the pace again as he slams his cock into the spot that makes you see stars. your moans get louder even as they remain muffled against his lips, and kaeya can't help but dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh, leaving behind finger shaped dents in the plushy skin.

a claim—possessive, desperate, selfish.

your kisses become sloppier as kaeya leads you closer to the edge, walls clenching around the length of him, tighter with every thrust he delivers. the chants of his name have become almost reverent, and kaeya thinks his name couldn't possibly sound more beautiful than in that moment. he wonders if he could be blessed to hear it for the remainder of his life, and the thought sends pure unadulterated need through him.

his hips stutter, red hot fire coursing through his chilled veins—building, climbing, overwhelming as every sense goes fuzzy with heat. his grunts become more irregular, in time with the reckless thrusts of his cock as your cunt tightens around him greedily.

his cock twitches as you suck him in eagerly, feeling every ridge and vein as he grunts and groans and tightens his hold on you—unyielding, unrelenting, selfish.

your eyes stay locked on his even as your orgasm rips through you, and kaeya sees celestia in them—brighter than ever before. your muscles spasm, clenching almost painfully as you tremble and writhe underneath him, and he follows you to the doorstep of nirvana with a throaty groan. his hips stutter, twitching and throbbing as he pants out a broken chorus of your name and every praise that doesn't do you justice.

then he drops his forehead against yours, watching your eyelids flutter—celestial stars dim. a soft brush of your lips against his.

your muscles go lax, every guard dropped just for him—trust he realizes, trust he doesn't deserve. he doesn't know how to tell you that.

because even after everything—when you're curled up against his chest, skin warm and dewy against his own, he does not think about how he adores the feeling of your hair brushing against his arm, nor does he focus on the soft tickle of your breathing washing over him. instead he thinks about how he's ruined it all, how he's dragged you into him, and how he needs to let you go before he destroys you completely.

at the end of the summer, kaeya tells you he can’t.

“what are you talking about?” you ask him, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you barely focus on his words. your nose is buried in some medical text, and kaeya thinks that the universe is punishing him now by making him repeat himself.

“us. we shouldn’t have…” he sighs, shoulders dropping. “i mean, we should stop…seeing each other.”

he can practically feel the way his words pull your attention and when he looks up he sees the way your grip on the book has slackened. there’s panic settling in your eyes, mixed with a bit of confusion. a conflicted emotion runs across your face and kaeya’s fingers itch to touch you. “w-why?”

it’s a simple question and he should have no problem answering it, but he struggles to get the words out, his throat constricting uncomfortably. “it was fine in the summer, when i was back here with the troops. but now i’ll have to leave and-“

“so what?” you question, turning in your seat to face him completely. his eyes drop to the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, and he feels his heart squeezing.

“so-“ he gulps, head spinning as he tries to explain himself. he doesn’t even have a proper answer—he just knows that this is his only option. because there’s no way in hell he deserves this kind of comfort, this kind of happiness. “so i cant-“

“can’t what, kaeya?” you stress, voice going slightly higher and he only then sees the real fear in your expression.

he pauses, mulling over his words and the bitter taste they’re leaving in his mouth. he can feel the sting of your pleading stare, and he swallows hard. “can’t stay,” he finally answers, and he’s shocked at how miserable he sounds.

you look at him like he’s insane, and honestly he feels like he might be. you’re confused and rightfully so, because there are so many remnants of him left in your space, so clearly evident the impact he’s left on you.

“can’t or won’t?”

kaeya’s eyes snap up to yours, because the tremor in your voice sends a jolt of fear down to his stomach, churning and roiling until it makes him sick.

he regrets looking, because he can feel himself breaking then and there.

you’re looking at him with these shining eyes and he swears that he’s glimpses them again—the brightest stars he’s ever had the privilege of seeing. for a second he thinks the light of those stars might disappear because that’s what always happens. but they remain, glowing against the backdrop of your irises and he’s captivated all over again.

his plans to leave you in tears fly out the window then and there.

he’s reaching for your cheeks in less than a second, holding them delicately as he lets his thumbs brush over your teary lashes. there’s a reasonable bit of confusion in your face at his sudden change, but when he leans down to kiss you, you don’t protest, melting into him even though he’s so undeniably cold. kaeya doesn’t even realize he’s saying he loves you, choosing to murmur it against your lips because it’s not meant for anyone else to hear—just the two of you.

he remains there, in the quiet darkness of your room for the rest of the night, because he doesn’t want to leave your side even after he told himself he would.

and yes, he dreads tomorrow. he dreads tomorrow because he knows that he will have to choose between the comfortable home he’s found in you or the dark abyss that has swallowed his past.

he’s scared that the more he allows himself to fall into you, and the more he finds that your eyes are the ones that hold the stars of celestia, then the easier his choice will become.

he’s been chasing the stars for so long after all. now that he finally has them, why in teyvat would he let them go?

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[pinkexpertnerdghost]

An analysis on Pavia from Reverse1999 (Alternative Title: Me yapping about Pavia's backstory and making headcanons/personal interpretation based on the crumbs of lore we get 😭)

I recently thought about this. I've been grinding in this game cause it's so pretty and the voice acting is delicious. That's my own opinion though. And I want to write this down because It will consume me of I don't.

So all you Pavia stans and fans, this one is for y'all since there is only a handful of stuff about him online.😭🥹

So if any players main/use Pavia a lot and build up Bond with him we get his backstory and more voiclines. And spoiler, in Pavia's second character story, it mentions how he was literally abused/neglected from his legal guardian (bitch-ass aunt) because according to her, he looked closely resembling her mother(aunt's sis).

Also that, the aunts sister (Pavia's mum) is apparently dead??? But present Pavia states She's in "an asylum in Rome in probably her middle ages" and "he's never visited her".

So...does he believe she's still alive? Or did the aunt tell him that his mother was just 'insane' and 'unwell' that she was sent to an asylum and was the reason he was under her care? Never informing her own nephew about the passing of his mother?? Cause man.....that's kind of messed up if so. 🫠😶

I'll assume that Pavia's mom, being a single parent since the dad was 'missing', felt overwhelmed or inadequate to be a mom and left him with her sister (the aunt). Since the aunt described her sister as 'sorrowful' 'who abandoned her' and that she 'left behind her troublesome kid'.

I want to believe that Pavia's mom did love him. To some extent. She sang rhymes for him when he was probably a toddler (mentioned in one of his voice lines). She probably sang them so often to him that a grown Pavia can vaguely recall her lullabies. She probably thought that she really wasn't cut out to be a mom; he already had a 'missing' father, what can she do? Keep in mind that this is probably set in the late 70's or early 80's. And based on the societal steriotypes/stigmas, this reasoning seems plausible. And maybe thought that the best decision was to leave him in the care of her sister.

Or perhaps she was in a dangerous situation because she did apparently 'died a few years later' after "going into the city."

Was she in a tight situation? Was this perhaps linked to why Pavia's father was missing? Maybe the family was involved with a crime group or dangerous people? I find it suspect that his father was said to be missing, and that the mom died a few years later after dropping off her son with the aunt.

Going by the later assumption, could this have been a decision to protect her son? If so....it just makes Pavia's backstory and with the way his aunt treated him makes his story that much more tragic and unfair.

But back to the aunt.

The sister...now being tasked to look after a nephew who resembled her sad, irresponsible and 'selfish' sister, she confines him to a basement 24/7 to not look at him because of her personal issues/resentment towards his mother.

Pavia as a child calls out to her, fucking apologies for something he had no control over (his looks, his mom's decision), and is angry at this treatment. (Which honestly, fuck the aunt bro. Fuck Pavia's aunt bro, me and the homies hate Pavia's aunt. The kid did nothing wrong. Just because you resent his parents doesn't excuse the poor treatment you push onto the child. Your biological sister left him in your care and then later on died, the least you can do is provide for probably the only living relative you have left.)

Maybe this is linked to why Pavia has such a flamboyant and artistic style in appearance. Dyed white hair, but his natural dark roots are showing. Tinted glasses, to obscure his silver blue eyes and deep shades under his eyes. Random jewelry on his hands he doesn't really care for. The varies ink on him that make his skin a canvas. The cool ass piercings.

And while this could be a tactic to keep his identity a secret or untraceable for the authorities due to his job as an independent merc, just maybe..... he didn't want to be reminded of who he looked like whenever he looks at himself.

Maybe he didn't want to resemble his mother. It was because of his appearance that his aunt confined him to solitude. Something he had no control over, but as he got older....he gained control over how he looked and dressed. He never visits her in the asylum, she was the second person who abandoned him and the cause of his aunts hatred towards him. So....he probably has either a neutral or negative towards his mother.

In the basement, he develops a very unhealthy lifestyle; having no real concept of time, little sunlight, the sound of dripping water and pests constantly providing an uneasy atmosphere, but he develops his arcanum.

His imaginary friends, who watch over him and keep him warm. Since the humans who were supposed to do that, failed him so horribly.

His imaginary friends who bloomed from the darkest shadows of the basement due to his budding arcanum. Quiet literally.... byproducts of his own loneliness, perhaps yearning to be a part of a family, and strong arcanum.

He couldn't and wouldn't rely on any human, he had to fend for himself.

And because of this, he became an "independent mercenary" with a fatal flaw of " lacking in collaborative skills". He is good at what he does...but his employers "can't stand his work ethic of ignoring his coworkers". He comes across as having an unlikable personality and rudeness. He has a hard time getting along with other people. And honestly? Who can blame him. With the way he was raised...no wonder he doesn't like people in general.

But why should he? Why should he rely on people? His own biological family left him alone in that basement, he never developed any real friends as a child, he didn't get the chance to grow up like a normal child.

He had no one but he made it work. So why should he start to rely on people? For them to abandon him or betray him?

His former boss had planned to betray him, to kill him. So Pavia struck first, keeping only his tie clip as memorabilia.

Pavia is a lone wolf....as corny as that sounds. But he grew up alone, in a dark den. So close yet so far from human society, he made friends from the shadows that kept him company. That once lonely confinement didn't seem so lonely after a while, he grew to find comfort in his predicament.

Adapting and pushing ahead, finding a twisted sort of 'fun' 'excitment' and 'joy' in the most tragic and unfortunate circumstances; his job as a merc and the 'unsavory' nature of his job.

_______________________________________________

Pavia has become one of my favorite characters in media, despite the media he originates from having limited personal information about their playable characters.

But I think this is also a reason why he's so interesting to me. It leaves little crumbs and pieces of background that is mostly left to be assumed by the player's/reader's interpretation. It's fun to assume and make these little narratives and head cannons about them.

And the fact some parts of his story hit a wee bit close to home. Just a little though. I mean... it is unfair and so infuriating for a child to be antagonized or disliked by family just because they look more like one parent than the other.

But ye....this is just my own personal interpretation of this characters background. Mostly just me yapping and connecting the dots on silly head canons. I should write a one shot or series about this guy. He's such a goob.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Oooh, okay. How about Halley’s Comet (or some other comet out there) is a baby Titan floating around. And when Earth sees them: Earth: Can we keep them!? Moon: Yes darling! Unicron: No! Why would you- Moon: Earth. Gets. What. She. Wants. Comet Titan: Hello! I like to explore!

Hello yes time for more lore.

Titans ceased to be forged shortly after the fall of the Predacons. No one knows why, but some suspect that the reason is simply because Primus decided there were enough of them. Long lived as they are, Titans are not exactly prolific. But they don't need to be. They serve their purpose until they no longer have the ability. They are, in a sense, a temporary thing to give the rest of Primus's children a safe haven until they can stand on their own pedes.

Halley's Comet broke the long agreed upon understanding that Titans were no longer being forged. She was forged with the last generation of sparklings to emerge from the Well. At the time, she was about the size of a warframe. She grew up alone in the remnants of abandoned cities and starports and saw the ravages of war as she grew larger. The lack of energon made her small. Her systems couldn't support more than a few dozen citizens at most. This upset her a degree, but it instilled in her a desire to seek out somewhere she could serve. She was the size of the Arc, and while not a shabby size at all, she did not match up to even little Pluto. She vaguely sensed that she was too small, but to her young mind, that was alright.

When the Exodus occurred, Halley fled with the rest. There was no use hiding any longer, not when those who would make her a tool were no longer present. She did not know what she was, but she was fine with that. She took to the stars eager to understand herself and explore. What base coding she had told her that there were others like her scattered in the void beyond. As such, she was excited to begin her hunt for her as of yet unknown siblings.

She travelled the stars, pausing only to rest and recover in the orbit of passing stars. She passed by worlds where Titans gave their lives to establish Cybertronian colonies. Some were active and greeted Halley with reverence. Others were long dead. Those ones Halley took time to traverse until she found the shell of her deceased brethren. From the dead she took pieces of their plating to graft into her own. She soon became a living memorial to the glories of times long past. She took pride in her work.

Eventually. she found a Cybertronian starship headed in the direction of Earth. She did not know that at the time, but having explored the surrounding sectors, she decided to tail the ship. She followed from a safe distance and only broke away when she spotted Pluto doing his usual patrol. Their interaction went about as well as expected.

Pluto: YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!

Halley: Oh! Hello brother!

Pluto: Brother? Wait, are you one of us?

Halley: I am not too sure! But you feel like a brother of mine!

Pluto: *Pluto exe is not working* I need to get Mars. Don't go anywhere little Titan.

Mars: *literally just woke up from a nap* WHAT IS IT-!

Halley: Hello! :D

Mars: ...

Mars: I suppose we have a little sister now.

Halley doesn't stay too long. She still likes to travel. But she stops by when she can. She adores Earth, and Earth loves her in turn. Earth may or may not have quietly adopted her, much to Moon's agitation since he doesn't like sharing more attention than necessary. Halley has continually praised Moon for his choice in partners because of her adoration for the green covered world. Moon is warming up to her slowly.

Quietly, he calls her Daughter of my Beloved and Sister of my Spark.

Halley does not know this, but when she needs a place to rest, Moon will gladly offer the dark side of his frame for her to get some much needed recharge.

[toons-and-doom]

I’m bored so I’m back with general hcs about the dandys world show itself

- originally it was just dandy and his fellow main toons going around learning to solve problems but eventually more and more characters were added until we got the cast we have now.

- ^ the other mains were quite literally made to be dandy’s friends (Astro especially. They got a subtle sun and not so moon thing going on) so I imagine that fucks up his perception of the world and his friends

- (I took this from @/gourgplushie,,, ) the show’s episodes are in a ‘character narrating a story’ format. They always begins with dandy talking about topic of the episode in a conversational way all like ‘ gee the dark sure is scary, not being able to see anything and all. But it’s not that bad! Did you know my friends toodles and Rodger had to face the dark? You don’t! Let me tell you about that! ‘

- The episode always ends with the book closing

- Razzle and dazzle were designed to be main character but it was decided that they shouldn’t add anymore mains.

- Shelly was kinda ignored in the show to :3. She had the least screen time out of the mains.

- There WERE going to be more episodes about her but then the show was canceled

- Goob and Scraps were designed by one of the creator’s kids.

- Finn and Teagan were both introduced later in the show. Teagan was introduced in a ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ fashion. Finn was introduced in a episode trying to show how completely different people can still have fun together,,, maybe idk,,,

- Pebble’s lore is straight up that he just spawned in one day. He popped out the ground a puppy and dandy found him.

- If the show wasn’t made in the 90s-early 2000s Sprout and Cosmo would have been married in the show. I’d imagine there is a lot of parental complaints of how close Cosmo and sprout were.

- It’s technically lost media now. All information about the show has been pulled from the public,,, there is a dedicated group of people trying to uncover more about it,,,

- Vee and sprout had some sort of rivalry in the show,,, something something city vs country something something

- It’s casually mentioned that dandy’s mom is some sort of goddess figure. This is never brought up again.

- The setting is a vague small city I’m gonna call Gardenview. The region is unknown but there are woods and a mountain outside of town.

- The toons have houses. Some of them have family and parents. The family aren’t considered part of the cast and so aren’t present at gardenview. (The toons remember people who don’t exist :3)

- If the show wasn’t canceled, Shrimpo would have eventually been redeemed and changed his ways with the ‘ pOWer of FriEnd ShIp’ (shame that never happened)

- Dandy and Shrimpo can break the fourth wall. dandy is literally breaking it all the time. Shrimpo has done it a few times for comedic effect. No other toon does this.

- There were Halloween and Christmas specials. Those have been throughly lost. There were one of each. They were longer than the average episode.

- There are locations outside Gardenview but it’s rare for the toons to leave Gardenview.

And that’s all for now :3

[ghostyclay]

Since yall seem to like my other AUs/headcanons, I've decided to rant a bit about my 'main' one :3 (kept vague to avoid spoilers)

Small summary: (more indepth rant below)

it's a villan & hero hermitcraft / life series / empires au, focused on bad boys (at least during the first arc). Joel creates a bar as a cover for a fighting ring/information selling business, joined by pearl effo gem grian and jimmy. Grian refuses to participate in the criminal activities at first, but doesn't rat them out either. (inspired by his resisting the resistance thing in s9)

However, as u can probably guess, this doesn't last long and he slowly gets more n more involved, especially once random people mysteriously start getting "the red curse", which he recognizes from his past... (hehe watcher lore) Grian continues to pretend to stay uninvolved while trying to keep the Watchers at bay behind the scenes, even going as far as creating multiple alter egos / secret identities in order to hide his involvement.... (poultry man, cute guy, mother spore,...) Sadly, the Watchers think identity reveals are incredibly amusing and make it their mission to reveal Grians secrets... :)

Now, lil poll bc i wanna know yalls preference:

Im not a very experienced writer, so I can't guarantee the fics would be any good- while i def prefer comics, it would take a long ass time and I'm not sure whether its a good idea since i tend to loose interest in projects p fast wkdhakdj

Still debating what to name it, I think ill call it "Web of lies", "Wolau" for short LMFAO. Im not very good at naming things 😭 suggestions are welcome!!!

Some more background info:

Joel is a fairly new villain who has decided to start a business focused on fighting rings, selling information and just generally doing criminal stuff. (inspired by his secret fighting club in s10). He hires Gem and jimmy, two ex-vigilantes who became a bit more... Villainous. Their cover is a normal bar, which ofc means they also need normal employees who won't snitch. Jimmy suggests Grian toJoel, since he's a retired informant. He basically started out as an investigative journalist in another city, but got more n more involved with both villains and heroes (which is how he knows jimmy) before joining a cult (watcher lore watcher lore watcher lore-) and suddenly dissappearing.

Although he went missing a few years ago, they manage to track him down. He joins, but tells them he's not involved in the world of villains anymore and that he wants to stay out of everything (so hes basically working in the bar that they use as a cover as a 'normal' employee and turns a blind eye to anything criminal going on)

That's kind of the start of the story? Afterwards, Pearl, a villain who used to be a vigilante that worked with Scott (<-number one hero), then got betrayed by him and is now plotting his murder, joins in. Later on etho joins, who is originally sent by the hermits as a spy (<- p big villain&vigilante alliance in the city) but ends up deciding to side w/ them. (BOAT BOYS BOAT BOYS BOAT BOYS-)

(pearl & Scott's conflict is ofc a double life ref and etho is a mycelium resistance ref, he also ends up finding out about some of grians secrets and helping him behind the scenes)

Although its focused on the members of the bar, later on it focuses more on other hermits (since they get more involved w/ the villain group "hermits" which most of the hermits are a part of) but there's also some side stories that focus on other ppl (there's a whole side story about Ren and Doc getting to know each other after Ren gets infected by the curse, or martyn whole listener thing & how it's connected to renchanting/ren getting cursed and the Watchers showing up in the first place... But i dont wanna spoil too much :3)

Oh also! Hermits r mainly criminals(vigilantes, villains, big salmom mafia,...) and Empires members r usually heroes! But there is some exceptions to this rule. (jimmy n martyn for example)

ANY KIND OF QUESTIONS OR SUGGESTIONS R WELCOME!!! might not be able to answer everything bc of spoilers, but ill def try to do some foreshadowing instead :3

[bb-kawa]

One and the Same

Crossing posting from my ao3. a03 link if you prefer reading there.

Leona helps his lover after her meeting with the vampire hunters.

Vampire AU - vague lore that doesn't have much detail so use your imagination. based slightly on Vampire knight but also not really.

f/n = first name, third person. FEMALE READER

i had this written with an OC name at first. hopefully the ctrl H replaced them all. i did proof read.

“Where is she?” Leona asked. The Vampire hunter in front of him merely smirked, looking him up and down playing with the sharp knife in his hands. 

“A Kingscholar vampire, huh. Prestigious vampire families like yours don't usually go poking your heads around his part.” 

“Do you want to tell me where she is or should I go in and find out myself?” Leona bit out. He really didn’t want to handle things using his strength but his patience was wearing thin. He was here for one person and one person only. A fight at the front steps of the Vampire association would be risky. Luckily, before the vampire hunter or him could continue arguing, the door behind the hunter clicked. 

“Leona! I’m glad you’re here.” F/n said, stepping out to approach him, the exact woman he was looking for. She, coincidentally, had a knack for appearing right before trouble started, either to stop it or encourage it. She waved at the hunter while making her way towards Leona. “Bye bye Jack. I’ll see you some other time.” 

F/n gripped Leona's arm tightly, leading him down the alley back out to the road. A slight waver in her step had Leona wrapping a hand around her waist. 

“Did you bring a car or do something barbaric like vampire speed walk here?” She asked. 

“Are you saying that YOU can’t get us out of here with that teleportation ability of yours.” Leona asked before leading her down another road. His eyes glided to hers as she clicked her tongue. 

“I think you know why.” A reluctant admittance from her. 

“You shouldn’t be giving those hunters blood, F/n. They don’t deserve it and you can’t trust they won't hurt you.” Leona reprimanded before they arrived at his chosen mode of transportation, a motorcycle. Its metallic black body shimmered under the street light giving it a sleek and mysterious look. F/n’s fingers grazed the leather seat. 

“Wow, fancy. You do give off the bad boy motorcycle type.” She cooed, ignoring his lecture. She swung her leg over as Leona helped guide her onto the bike. “Take me somewhere I can rest.” 

Leona followed her command and sped off throughout the city. He could feel her arms tighten around him with every quick turn and acceleration. The city lights sped by as the world drifted together. Well lit roads and businesses blurred by and became winding paths through forests. Soon, they were heading down an isolated path until they came to a stop in front of an ornate and large house. 

“Your family home… this wasn’t what I was expecting.” F/n said as Leona stood from the bike. Before she could fully hop off he grabbed her waist lifting her into his arms. 

“This is somewhere that we’ll both be safe.” 

If F/n knew what he meant she didn’t say anything, merely let him carry her up to the door. The door creaked open as the vampire servant of the Kingscholar family welcomed ‘Young Leona and his guest’ to the estate. The candle lit hallways glimmered as the various green plants throughout the house swayed from the slight breeze being let in. Leona guided them onward as he nodded towards the family servant. 

F/n was tired as she grabbed onto Leona's shirt, the weariness and dizziness affecting her now as she settled into his arms. 

"Leona, welcome home." Leona's brother, Falena Kingscholar, current head of the Kingscholar family said with a smile as he passed them in the hallway. "Nice to see you again F/n. I look forward to your attendance at the next council meeting." 

"Tch. We'll talk later, Falena." Leona said as he passed by. His brother had always been rather forthcoming in his thoughts regardless of the timing. 

"Nice to see you too, Falena." F/n answered. She was positive Falena heard despite him already being further down the hall. 

Leona continued forward, winding down hallway after hallway before approaching a door in a more secluded corridor. The entrance opened into a rather large bedroom. Clothes were strewn over couches and books piled in various areas. Ivy plants descended the walls and the hues of green, brown, and black blended together to make the area look charming and fitting for Leona.   

He led them to the seating area, settling them both into the large and deep set couch. F/n sunk her body into his lap. With a flick of his wrist, Leona undid a few of the buttons on his shirt revealing more of his neck to her. 

“Drink.” 

“Leona-” 

“It’s not up for debate.” Leona said rather seriously. The look in his eyes was more pleading than commanding though as he leaned his hand up to her cheek before pulling her in for a slight kiss. It wasn’t the first kiss they had shared but none other had been so loving. “Please.” 

F/n smiled before adjusting her position to have her legs on either side of him. She traced the line of his neck slightly with the tips of her fingers before leaning her lips in. If he felt the pain or pleasure from her bite he didn’t let on. The only acknowledgement she received was a slight sigh as she sucked at his skin. Gulp after gulp his hands on her hips tightened slightly. Truly, if she so desired, Leona would have let her drink him dry. She was one of the only vampires though, to not seem as monstrous as the rest, despite perhaps still being one of more dangerous ones. It was as if she still contained the humanity the rest of them tried to suck out of humans. 

When she was satisfied she pulled away to lick at his skin, healing and closing up the wound. She leaned back to look him in the eyes as he responded with a light smile. 

“You don’t like drinking or being drunk from, huh?” Leona asked. It was true, over the many months they had known each other F/n always hesitated to ask for blood. It didn’t matter who or how well she knew the person, she didn’t seem too inclined to ask for blood and when nobles offered her blood at the high end parties vampires attended she never accepted. Refusing to take from her many admirers. 

“I like taking your blood.” F/n answered. This much was obvious by how often she gave in. She never told him no, just questioned the authenticity of his offer before always conceding to him. When there were times that Leona needed blood, she always stuck out her wrist or neck with a teasing smile and goaded him into drinking. 

Their relationship wasn’t necessarily complicated but they were both so straight forward that consequently details were always left unsaid. Regardless Leona would follow her to hell if she decided that’s where she wanted to go. 

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

To Lady Celestine, from Magopon

Bonjour, I suppose? I don’t really think I know you yet so.. I was wondering, why not do an info exchange with each other I guess. Though I do know about you and Arthur. I do think it’s cute. So my barrage of questions starts now. First question, how did you get to know each other? Second, what is your favorite misadventure? Third, what do you like about Arthur, don’t think that I can’t see you two being lovey dovey. Well, I suppose I should keep my end. Things to know about me: I was the feared (yet cute) ogre of Kitakami. Next, uh let’s see, umm… Oh! I’m with Meta! And um, probably the easiest to provoke within my group I suppose. Well that’s all, I guess. Signing out, Magolor! -Magolor/Ogerpon

Such wonderful questions~

They don't deserve merely simple answers, how about a story instead

Truth be told my acts of vigilantism weren't for the fame or the glory... it was to atone what had happened to Shiver Star. Had I not told Absolum & Uther my vision...

Shiver Star wouldn't have had an... even worse fate than I had originally seen... Then I started to question everything... I had come to find out that all my visions of warning were ignored (by other Heroes of Yore & the Ancients) unless there was a benefit to them.

They didn't care about people who suffered from their acts, unlike them, I could see them... I could feel their pain too... I couldn't help but think that I had made everyone's life worse...

Until one day I just had enough.... I was done crying over my mistakes... I had to do something!

So the moment Triple Star was created I vowed I'd make up for all the damage I did with my visions. I'd "my future sight" to hunt down Nightmares monsters before they'd even had the chance to do any harm. I'd use my magic & alchemy to fix all the damage the GSA did to civilian planets.

(Basically, she did the same thing of what Edward did here but in secret)

But I will admit I did have my own little fun when I was out there as well...played a practical joke here or there swindled some swindlers... unleashed a hoard of flying pigs every time I played a prank but you get the idea.

My actions did go unnoticed... people could tell that someone in the night was fixing their homes & cities. Someone was taking out the monster even before Uther's soldiers (and Sir Uther didn't like that.) All they knew was a mysterious old mage wearing a blue cloak was helping them.

The people were starting to rely on me... I didn't want that to happen.

I wanted to stay anonymous but with how things were going to be difficult to hide myself for very long... there was another problem I was not long for the world

But that was around when I got Kirby's prediction.

There was a glimmer of hope left in the galaxy... Nightmare terror against the galaxy would end along with the Ancients & Uther's reign would end however there was a catch...

For those of you who haven't read (The Wart of Them All)

My visions were vague in nature but this one carried the most uncertainty.... I had no idea what wild goose chase this vision was leading me on... especially after I saw all my options...

I just needed to find the match; it didn't tell me how they fit into Kirby's prediction, nor what role they played in all this. But I did know this... I WAS NOT GOING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE AGAIN AND TRUST ANYONE WITH MY KNOWLEDGE!

I needed to exhaust every avenue and be sure I was making the right choice... So I had to reveal myself to them as "Merlyn."

Actually, I didn't name myself Merlyn just yet... that'll have to come up in the next part.

To be continued~

Prev. ((The Wart of Them All) -

Next. ("The Start of Something Great")

@kirbyoctournament

Shoutout to @poyoofthestars Thank you so much for giving me such a great question it gives me all the power to lore dump!

I know what it looks like I did this on purpose: (For you those of you who aren't familiar with the Pokemon games: at the start of your journey you are given three choices as you're starter )

Basically, what Celestine was doing was choosing "the right starter Pokemon... to kick start Kirby's journey." But the main difference is that if she chooses the wrong one the galaxy is royally screwed! OUR GIRL WAS UNDER A LOT OF PRESSURE

Also, another fun lore dump Celestine never actually called herself Merlyn... it was actually Arthur who accidentally named her Merlyn.

Hope you guys enjoyed it see you in the next part.