might have accidentally cooked up another AU
but hey, it’s sonic related and it is Friday, so why not
For context they are these things called Marble Critters I made a long while back, basically just pokemon but instead of pokeballs you use magical marbles, totally not an outcome after little me made too many fakemon and came up with the idea to make them their own thing
Sonic is a bunkgehog, which are supposed to be skinny and practically rabid, but made an exception for Sonic since I had no other hedgehog marble critters, so no need to worry about cannibalistic tendencies, yet
meanwhile Tails is a Kitdrop, which are supposed to have three tails, so technically in this au the twin tails are a downgrade, at least the little dude can still fly, so he has that going for him
I’m still developing this AU and honestly planning to have it be somewhat of a crossover instead of a roleswap like I usually do, to include regular marble critters and other characters from the original thing
I’ll probably post more about this some other time when I have more drawings to show, until then, have a great weekend
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“Can you help me with this, please?” You ask gently, chin jutting in Dabi’s direction. Your eyes are still glued to the task at hand, but you finally look up when a few beats of silence pass. Dabi’s looking at you from across the table, arms folded, resting the lower half of his face behind his forearms. His eyes are bright in the dimmed light of the living room, and his gaze is enthralling when it snaps from your hands to your eyes.
He doesn’t answer still, as he watches you. Bounces from you tying the party balloons, back to your face, to the other balloons scattering the floor, your face again. He inhales slowly, before sitting up, stretching his arms like a feral turned house cat. He reaches across the table with nimble fingers, grabbing for a balloon, and blows it up with his mouth despite the helium tank sitting a foot away from the balloons.
You blink at him a few times, taking him in—his low lids, tautly pulled mouth, the bored expression on his face, his slumped shoulders. Your head tilts as you place the balloon you just blew up between your legs to keep from floating away, frowning at him.
“What cogs are turning in that pretty little head of yours?” You ask, smiling faintly when he chuckles at you. Dabi blows up another balloon with his mouth before he answers you with a shrug.
“A lot, and nothing at the same time.” He grunts after a while. “Don’t worry about it too much, angel. Shouldn’t be occupied with my shit on your birthday.” Dabi tries placating you with the nickname, but you don’t budge.
“But if there’s something up with you, I can’t celebrate wholly.” You confess, tying a string to the balloon in your lap, gaze focused on him after you let it float to the ceiling.
“And why’s that?”
“Because I feel guilty celebrating myself knowing,” you stop yourself, mouth clamped shut, but you don’t look away from him. Dabi fixes you with a look, his mouth twisted, already knowing what words you were about to spill. He sighs after a long while, shoulders slumping, running a hand down his face.
“I shouldn’t be,” he stops himself, pauses for a long while, eyes fixated on the decorations in front of him. “I never got this whole, you know, shebang growing up. I just don’t know how to—to do this whole thing. Birthdays and decorations and celebrations, and shit.”
“You could always learn with me.” You tell him, barely a beat passing before you answer him. Your eyes are full of such sweetness, sincerity, and it makes his chest ache a little. You’re always so full of hope whenever it comes to him, so full of grace and understanding. How could you pass so much kindness onto a person so bitter like him? He can barely be happy that it’s your birthday without thinking about his own past.
And yet, you grab his hand and smile at him. Throughout the afternoon you hand him streamers and tape and which candles to get from the drawer to light. You help him find his best outfit for the party and bring him into the conversation every time your friends talk. You hold his hand while you’re sung to and squeeze it so tight when you blow out your candles.
He doesn’t understand your grace, but he’s thankful for it. Even if it’s just a tiny bit.
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