Sketch Dump but it's only the dsmp au I made for Quackity(s)
Context in brief: Las Nevadas AU where Quackity is murdered and when they later try to resurrect him, they fuck it up and bring one from another universe instead. Many points of the story are based on the movie Candyman so I call it the Candyman AU 👍 (longer context in read more)
If you saw, one of the sketch pages is charm designs so here is what I have so far of them 👍
ALSO if you wanted a longer explanation of the AU, here it is:
Quackity is murdered just as he was starting his life up again by creating Las Nevadas. Rumors are left behind of the anger he must have held and ideas of a vengeful ghost circulate. His ghost ends up becoming a legend that haunts the city as his soul clings to the world after losing the one legacy he hoped to achieve. He can be summoned by saying Candyman five times in a reflection and he will then kill you. In order to stay in the world and gain power, Quackity's clinging soul follows the rumor built around him as he tries to use his half alive state as a warped second chance to leave a legacy (even if it's built upon violence, perhaps that was truly the only way to leave one).
A few years after the murder, one of Quackity's higher ups (Foolish) attempts to revive him using the revival book. The revival is messed up and Q is summoned (the alternate universe quackity, he is basically cc!quackity but as a character and he didn't ever join the dsmp). Quackity (when he figures out it's another him) sees him as a real pure second chance and tries to aid him in rebuilding Las Nevadas to it's former glory. Meanwhile, Q attempts to get home while helping his other self out of some obligation he feels due to their connection. And a bunch of stuff happens, relationships occur (shipping quackitys is my fav thing sorry guys), drama, I'm writing a fic I'll never release for it LMAO. Anyway, that's my added context if u want it.
The first myth about law school is that everyone is the same.
In movies, in TV shows, in books- everyone in law school is a certain type of person. Dangerously smart, hardworking to a fault, and absolutely cutthroat.
Now, that is true. To get this far, to get into a competitive law school and make it to your final year, you have to be all of the above. Smart, hardworking, and just a little cunning. It’s impossible to get a leg up unless you’re standing on someone else’s knee.
Or neck.
However, the fact that everyone here has to have a certain few traits in order to survive does not mean that they cannot have other traits.
Some are louder, exuberant, and competitive- the type to yell out the answer to a question before raising their hand, the type to go back and forth with the professor when they’re sure they’re right (and they’re not). There’s the introverts, the sly ones you never see coming, who you barely notice next to you all year until you glance over at the grade on their final and it’s a 110%, somehow.
Of course, there’s also the in-between. The respectable ones, the students that are just there to get through the classes they need and get a respectable job at a respectable law firm and make something nice out of their lives.
Or the hero type, the ones that are convinced they can fix any injustice they perceive in the world- the environmental lawyers, the criminal defense lawyers, the civil rights lawyers. They might be right, too, which is why it seems like a never-ending flow of them are pouring into the school at each orientation.
It’s not always as simple as that, of course. You, like many students, are a mix of a few types. You lie somewhere between the exuberant and introverted sides, not shy about answering questions in lectures, but not jumping the gun to cause discourse, either. A bit of a hero type, you must admit, but you do pride yourself on being reasonable when it comes to your life’s expectations. You don’t expect to become some William Kunstler. You work hard, you get shit done, and like law school has a tendency to do, it seems to become your whole entire life.
The type of person you never quite got a read on is Alex.
He’s been sitting next to you in your upper level criminal procedure class for the entire semester. A whole semester’s worth of lectures means you have plenty of time to observe and analyze the people in your classes- its not like there’s anything else to do when the professor is going over voir dire for the third hour that week.
You pegged the kid in the third row as a die-hard businessman. He’s not going into law to help people, he’s going into law to make the most profit off of the most vulnerable clients he can find. The girl in row six, however, is definitely the hero type, judging by her “save the oceans” stickers on her giant re-usable coffee cups.
Alex, though, you can’t read. He dresses down compared to the other students. They dress up to hide their shortcomings, like their fancy coats can stop them from feeling bad about their less-than-adequate qualifications for the internship they just applied for. Others just like to lean into the New York City aesthetic and dress like they’re already lawyers, even despite failing their last midterm. You fall into that category- you can’t help it, it’s a fun look- but hey, you definitely didn’t fail your midterm, and you’ve lived in New York your whole life, so you think you have the right to dress like that.
Alex dresses like he has nothing to hide. He dresses like the young, high-level professor who is always cracked out on Redbull and hasn’t graded a paper in his life; like the cute, fascinating barista at the local hipster coffee shop you can barely afford. He dresses like that one guy you’d see on the subway one day and never manage to forget because of how his eyes met yours for a split second.
To be fair, that is kind of how it’s gone. It’s not exactly like the two of you met on the subway, and you’ve definitely interacted more than just a passing glance, but goddammit is Alex stuck in your head.
You convince yourself it’s just because he’s such a mystery. It’s not because he has really sweet brown eyes, or the most charming, unruly hair you’ve seen this side of the Midwest. It’s not because he whispers a joke under his breath whenever your professor says something stupid, or because he bumps your ankles together and shares an amused glance with you when that one really annoying kid pipes up with an opinion no one wanted.
It’s just because you don’t know why he’s here, and you don’t know what he wants, and you don’t know how to read him.
It bugs you. It gets under your skin- not like an itch, more like a hum. He’s on the back of your mind constantly, like you’re trying to subconsciously figure out what’s up with him, but to this day you’ve had no success.
It’s not like you think about anything substantial in regards to him- every time your traitorous brain brings him up, you put it down quicker than it came up. Getting attached to people is dangerous in the best of circumstances, but getting attached to the absolute enigma of a guy in your criminal procedure class who you can’t even confidently say is named Alex would be equivalent to signing up for heartbreak.
“Don’t date law boys,” your roommate had lamented after she had done just that, laid across her rose-pink bedspread with a sleeve of crackers clutched in one hand and a tissue in the other. She had then blown her nose unattractively. “Lawyers have a reputation for being soulless for a reason. They’re only here for themselves. Fuck them.”
Despite that, you find yourself friends with Alex. As if you’d be able to resist the self-satisfied grins he flashes at you when the professor praises him for a particularly poignant answer, or the way he holds his hand out under the table for a high-five after you nail the answer to a cold call. You barely know anything about him, and yet, you know enough to decide he’s a good person.
“Alex”, whose name you’re only about 80% sure of- maybe it’s short for Alexander, but you thought you’d heard someone he was on the phone with call him Q, so maybe he’s a Quinn or a Quentin?
“Alex”, who shows up looking more comfortable than you’ve been in your entire life, and still manages to hold an air of confidence around him that you’d not be able to master even in your finest long coat and shirt.
“Alex”, who seems determined to wiggle his way into your heart in any way he can.
“Alex”, who you seem to be powerless to resist.
.
This growing attachment to Alex of yours is only strengthened with each lecture. You share this class three times a week, two hours each on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It’s a focus class, meaning that anyone who wants to go into criminal work should take this course. It’s challenging, it’s competitive, and it’s cutthroat.
And it’s only February.
A cold Monday morning in February, in fact, with the clock above your professor’s desk ticking obnoxiously as the big hand nears the 8. Outside, it’s downright miserable: windy and foggy. The outside of the paneled windows of the classroom are glazed in a sticky frost, reducing the figures of passing students to dull blobs as they hurry through the whipping wind to get to their classes.
The big doors at the back of the classroom close with a bang that reverberates throughout the lecture hall, cutting through the murmuring chatter of the students who are already here. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a flash of green- as you suspect, it’s Alex. He always takes the seat on the very end of the row, and you the one immediately to his right. You look up at him with what you hope is a casual smile, but the one he returns is so bright it could probably melt the frost off of the windows.
“Hey!” he says, too awake for 8 in the morning, and sets his binder down on the desk with a clatter. The whoosh of air rustles the paper of your notebook, which you smooth back down habitually. You watch Alex longer than you should, only tearing your gaze away after you notice the smattering of tiny snowflakes that have gathered atop the beanie he’s wearing.
You stifle a little laugh. This guy wears a beanie to law school.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he settles into his seat. He shrugs off his hunter green jacket, leaving him in just a gray hoodie, dotted with darker spots from melting snowflakes that’d been blown into him. He drops his outer jacket across his lap just as the room goes silent, your professor walking up to his desk.
As the last tails of conversations die off, you turn to Alex, unable to help yourself, “You have… snowflakes, on your head.”
He glances at you, a little huff of laughter escaping him as he brings up a hand to smooth over the beanie. The snowflakes are swiped off, melting on the heat of his hand- you wonder how it would feel held in yours, probably warm, he looks like he runs hot- and you pry your eyes away as he straightens out his beanie and tucks his hair up into the brim of it. He misses a strand, and the black swoop stands out sharply against the frost-paled skin of his face.
“Happy February,” your professor begins, his microphone crackling to life. “The month of love, is it not? Just two weeks until Valentines day.”
He swings his bag up onto the stool next to him, the sound echoing through the microphone. He turns to face the lecture hall, arms spread as if welcoming you all to a talk show.
“I’m about to ruin all of your Valentines Day plans. Welcome to the start of your final project: the mock trial.”
hello! i just found ur blog and omfg i’m in love with your writing style! may i pls have some soulmate au hc’s for a reader who’s an artist? (i’m indecisive so you can choose who the hcs are with!) so like (insert cc u write for here) has got paint stains on his hands and like assorted sketches and stuff on his skin all the time from his soulmate. ty so much!! :]
masterpiece | quackity
(gn reader, quackity is the loml, reader is so talented but v messy, chat teases q to no end, quackity is the biggest softie in the world but refuses to acknowledge it, plantain slander)
listen to: rainbow connection (cover) by sleeping at last
sweet quackity :((
it starts when he’s eighteen, and it happens like almost immediately
he got these splotches of purple on his hands and his mom was like ?? are u getting into fights ?? are you okay???
and q rlly doesn’t mind aside from the weird questions when the colors are a little too close to red or purple
but!! nowadays mostly you just sketch w a pen
it’s during your classes usually,,, ur an art history major and you need something to occupy your hands (which is actually why you started drawing in the first place)
so during the day quackity will acquire lil sketches of famous paintings,,, or sometimes originals,,, but they’re always washed off before the day is done
sometimes random art facts/theories/studies but he has no idea why someone would write him about van gogh’s use of color
*cue u aggressively scrubbing your skin in the shower bc you always forget how permanent the ink is*
quackity is sort of... hesitant when it comes to writing on his skin. esp with streaming, he’s scared that fans will react badly ,, that negative thought keeps him at bay most days
but sometimes he writes lil notes on his legs,,, where chat won’t see anything ,,,, and they’re always either rlly sweet or rlly weird
(hope ur having a good day)
(hey bestie :P )
(soulmate my beloved)
(will u be the howie mandel to my dr. phil)
that last one made you genuinely worried for your future
badly drawn picture of a duck holding a briefcase (this is me)
which confuses you but as he draws more, you begin to associate him with ducks, and sometimes the duck wears a tie, and sometimes a beanie, and one time he had a giant blue axe which kind of concerned you
but you digress
when you get stressed u finger paint
and it’s just a way to create chaos and feel the cold paint on your skin like idk it’s relaxing yknow :)
quackity is streaming
and he doesn’t realize what’s happening. he’s reacting to attaway general,, and he’s kind of invested
it’s only when he pauses it to make a point that he notices
and he tries to hide it but chat notices right away
panicked!quackity
it’s not that he doesn’t trust chat he just knows things can get negative quickly and he wants his space to be free of that
but someone donates “artist q?”
and quackity lets the joke run
he stands up and pulls the mic super close to his mouth
“i’m in my artist arc chat! nihachu watch out >.>”
“CHAT WE’RE POPPIN OFF I AM A PAINTER NOW I PAINT”
it’s literally so silly bc q knows that chat knows but they’re letting him do his bit
and later that night he checks twitter and artist q is trending, but quackity’s soulmate is also trending
it’s all mostly supportive, and there’s already some rlly endearing fan art of quackity with paint all over his hands
quackity private tweet: ❤️❤️❤️
and he gets a lil confidence boost after that
answers questions abt u on his alt
tells the story of his mom thinking he was getting into fights
“guys paula is still my number one and my soulmate will just have to understand that”
“we already agreed we would both reject each other for taylor swift chat it’s fine”
answers donos and doodles on his hand
which he can do now bc chat knows!!!!
(you’re so talented your honor)
(have you ever seen attaway general?)
(charli d’amelio is in it)
(charli d’amelio is in it shit dixie sorry)
and you’re like !!! it’s on my hand !!!! it’s not hidden at all !!!
this image is so endearing to me like you’ve got paint stains all over your hands and quackity’s scrawl is filling in the empty spaces like he didn’t want to interrupt your work
duck with a beret, a mustache, and a paintbrush (this is me now)
ik he is going to share the most mundane things in a way of showing his love
(i listened to this song the other day)
(i bought a literal plantain today those things are big as shit)
(update: not good :/)
(i’m writing lore)
(i have an exam tomorrow)
just :(( sweet quackity wants u to know every little detail abt his life bc he wants u to know him
and you reply when u can
(added to my playlist!)
(i like plantain chips but i’ve never had the fruit alone)
(rip buddy :/)
(lore? like fnaf?)
quackity finds out you know extensive fnaf lore and the two of you stay up arguing about which is worse: the bite of ‘87 or the bite of ‘83
both of your legs look like newspapers that night and it takes a lot of scrubbing to get all of those off
one day you’re painting smth and quackity randomly gives you his discord
(add me and we can watch game theory together and see who is right)
the two of you end up watching it and getting in call with each other
when you hear his voice it’s like everything falls into place
he fills in all the empty spaces,,, answers all the questions you didn’t realize you had,,,, and he’s so wonderful that you find yourself missing him dearly whenever he’s not on call with you
you join him in calls on his streams sometimes like for jackbox or when he’s cooking
“CHAT MY SOULMATE IS A CHICA KINNIE”
you stop joining him on calls on his stream /s
but chat loves you and always takes ur side over q’s
you get tons of followers on your art account and you even get to sell some of your paintings!!
ur new favorite colors to use are blue and yellow i don’t make the rules
but everyone starts to catch on and they find it really sweet
you catch up on quackity lore solely for him and declare yourself a c!quackity apologist
you’ve definitely retweeted the meme that’s like “if villain bad why hot”
when u guys meet quackity kisses your forehead :((((
when you
a drawing of two ducks holding hands (this is us)
thank you for the kind words and for requesting !!!
Naming this AU Those Who Don't Know History or TWDKH for short. More about this below the cut.
For context
Now
No, he’s not as pale as he looks in the picture, I just suck and coloring and after screwing up most of his clothes and hair I gave up.
He doesn’t have a home, instead he lives in a cave, which he’s decorated with pictures he shares with his friends + Spreen’s magazines.
He does, however, own a tent by his lake.
Despite having lost his three lives to the Prophet, he’s still forced to go to church every day, he sits in the back of it and avoids looking and talking to the Prophet.
His chronic pain often forces him to lean on anything or anyone, otherwise he falls and curls up until the pain stops.
Luckily, he’s rarely ever alone when he gets those.
In his past life he was the president of a country...?
He remembers more after revival, but has never brought it up to anyone.
His favorite activities include gambling in Jacky’s casino, playing the piano in Spreen’s restaurant, playing cards and drinking with Barca and Pato, and swimming.
He has constant nightmares, hence his dark circles under his eyes, so instead of sleeping at night he runs around looking for adventures.
He gets along with most if not all Tortillaland’s citizens.
One time, Juanito found him staring at Focus and Pato flying, and asked him if he’d like to join them; Juanito then proceeded to make him fly with his magic, Quackity was elated.
Whenever he has self-destructive thoughts and anyone in the Orange Island notices it, they make it their mission to show Quackity how important he is to them.
Mess with the duck? Mess with a whole island if not a country.
He collects stuff that reminds him of his friends! Like Focus and Pato’s feathers, Spreen’s old shirt, Reborn’s trench coat... Discs that remind him of someone else, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a totem, a crown.
He has pets! A couple of ducks, a monkey, a skeleton horse Barca gave him, and a cat Spreen gave him.
I’ll work more on this as I go, maybe I’ll write about his interactions with others.
