#《 drabble ish? 》

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My brain refuses to sleep, so more drabbling! Probably modern-ish AU?

Steve makes a career for himself as a re-decorator (or de-decorator, as he loves to call himself). His clientele are those celebrities who rose to fame so quickly they have plenty of money, but they don't have time to make their houses feel like home. They just bought penthouses and mansions and now live in homes that are fancy, but they feel like hotels.

Steve is there to fix that.

One of his clients is the hard working rockstar Eddie Munson whose life path went from a trailer park to couch surfing to living with 4 people in a tiny apartment, then suddenly tours, hotels and boom! He has a house that looks like an IKEA prop.

He doesn't hide his distaste at the pristine condition of the place (yes, Eddie has a cleaner). "Oh god. A beige carpet?" he scoffs and he sounds so bitchy Eddie decides he likes him already.

He likes him even more when Steve puts on reading glasses. Damn.

Over coffee, they discuss what Eddie wants. Except Steve doesn't just...tell him. He doesn't give him any hints. He just keeps asking about Eddie's favorite colors, what movies he likes, does he have hobbies apart from music? Can Steve see some of the items that bring him comfort?

And Eddie's surprised. "Shouldn't you, like...be telling me what I'm supposed to want?" he asks the gorgeous man who almost wails when he sees the vase with fresh flowers ("This is the third place in a row that has this fugly thing! Is it like a status symbol? Uh, tasteless.").

And Steve just stares at him. "Uh, Mr. Munson?"

"Eddie."

Steve nods. "Eddie. Why should I have any say in what you want? If you ask me what's practical, easy to clean, what bounces off light well, that's another thing. But in matters of taste...you're the boss. You live here, I don't. (Pity, Eddie thinks) Now, let's change this place into somewhere you actually like staying, hm?"

They spend the whole afternoon talking. Eddie opens up about what he loved before the touring and expectations from his agent took that from him. He talks about the Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy in general, and Steve listens, makes tons of notes and asks questions that make Eddie's heart bleed, such as "and who is your favorite Lord of the Rings character?" and "you mentioned elves, dwarves, orcs, wizards...so what is your favorite group?" and "which DnD class would you be then? I guess a bard? Is that too obvious?". Now, Steve doesn't know much about these things, but learns quickly and works with the info he has.

They walk through the house again, with Steve making notes and wincing at transgressions against humanity or at least against his taste in things ("Oh ew. EW. Glossy finish on a kitchen counter? What is this, a future crime scene?") and Eddie feeling equally amused and curious. Eddie orders dinner for them, it goes something like:

"I don't know what would be appropriate, any preferences?"

"Eddie, there's no time or space when pizza is not appropriate."

"What about a funeral?"

"It puts fun in a funeral."

"Touché."

They follow up on a bunch more things. Steve notices Eddie fidgeting and asks him like the mindreader he is if perhaps the place is too clean for him. "Minimalism is what everyone's trying to push," Steve says, not without sympathy, "but it's not for everyone. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like a person who'd love a more....personal, cluttered space."

And god, Eddie feels so seen. He tells Steve about all his favorite books and trinkets that he lost during a horrible earthquake in Indiana, so when he moved to the city it was just some clothes and his two guitars. Steve makes so many notes. "I've seen quite a lot of collectibles for your beloved trilogy," he says with a hint of a smile. "Is that something you'd like in your home?" Eddie can't nod any faster.

They talk about the budget (Eddie just scoffs at that, for the first time in his life money is not an issue), Eddie's absolute no go things ("No more vases, please! PLEASE. Also maybe the one room that can stay as it is is the studio, there's no decor"), if he has issues touching any materials, if he wants to keep any areas in the house neutral for visitors (he doesn't). Then finally, he asks Eddie if he wants to be more consulted or surprised.

And Eddie, tired and surprisingly relaxed from talking to Steve, just grins and says: "Surprise me, big boy."

Steve just smirks and makes one more note. "Oh, I will, Eddie."

...

Eddie goes on yet another tour for a couple of months, which is the ideal time for Steve to start working on the house.

Steve sometimes texts Eddie random choices, such as "Rohan or Gondor or both?" or "what's the best pub in the Middle Earth?" and Eddie usually trips over his feet trying to get to his phone after concerts to see if maybe he has another message from Steve. He learns bits and pieces about the man as well - he has a younger brother, Dustin, who is into the same stuff that Eddie is. Sometimes it goes like this:

STEVE: What's the best battle in the LotR movies?

EDDIE: The Ride of the Rohirrim, duh!

STEVE: Dustin says you're wrong, it's the last stand at the gates of Mordor.

EDDIE: The disrespect to king Théoden!

And finally, the big day comes. Eddie meets with Steve at the door. From the outside, the house still looks boring, but that's what they agreed on. At least for now.

But there's one notable difference and Eddie gasps when he sees it.

"I know we said no changes on the outside," said Steve sheepishly, "but I took the liberty to make one slight change."

Where the door used to be bland and white, it is now carved with silver etchings. It replicates the Doors of Durin. Eddie loves it.

Steve smiles at him. "Speak friend and enter, right? Dustin told me. Anyways, are you ready?"

Turns out, Eddie wasn't ready. Steve took all of the shiny and sterile surfaces and turned them into something beautiful.

The kitchen is now in warmer colors, brown and green, imitating the Green Dragon inn, plaque included.

Guest rooms have been changed, each to represent a group or a nation of the Middle Earth. Eddie thinks his uncle will love the Rohirrim one.

No more vases are to be seen, but Steve got potted plants ("almost immortal, as long as your housekeeper waters them once a week or so").

Eddie howls in laughter when he sees that Steve somehow managed to disguise all his security cameras as tiny eyes of Sauron.

The bathroom is inspired by the Rivendell, with soft tones and nods to Elvish architecture.

Eddie's bedroom resembles the Shire, with round shapes and homely motifs.

But Eddie's absolute favorite is the living room.

The only things that remain there that he bought are the massive TV and his stereo system with records. The rest though...

Gone is the ugly and sharp couch that looked like a geometry exercise. The new one is large and comfortable, with a couple of armchairs to finish the cozy feel. The coffee table and TV stand are more rough looking, with decorative ironwork. And then, around the room and on the walls...

"Oh wow," whispers Eddie and Steve beams at him.

There are collectibles and figurines that young Eddie Munson would have killed for. A replica of the Narsil hangs over the TV. It's cluttered but tasteful, still easy to clean, but Eddie always has something to touch, to play with.

And then he spots the bookcase and actually sobs. "What the fuck, Steve?" he asks, but there's no anger, just awe. "How did you know?"

The bookcase is full of Eddie's most beloved books, all that he told Steve about and more, but it's not just that. These aren't just pristine new prints - Steve managed to get both those and well-loved used copies. Most of them are the same editions that Eddie had before the earthquake. He runs his trembling finger over the back of the Hobbit and it feels like home.

"That was the hardest part," says Steve and leaves Eddie to rummage through the books, the old DnD guides and used comic books. "But I assumed you're sick of new and shiny. In fact, most of the collectibles are already used as well. They have some history. As for the books, uh..." He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I will be honest, I don't read much. Dyslexia and some issues with the eyes, although audio books are making it more possible for me now. So I had to ask Dustin for help. We looked for editions published before the earthquake. I hope we got some of them right?"

Eddie just mutters "Sorry, I'm about to do something really unprofessional now" and pulls Steve into a bear hug. And Steve reciprocates.

"Fuck, this...this is everything," says Eddie into his shoulder. "How did you do this? Are you magic. You must be magic."

Steve grins. "I take it the surprise was a success then?"

Eddie finally pulls back. He would have loved to keep embracing Steve for a bit longer, but boundaries. "A total one. Wow. I mean. It's a lot, but so good. SO GOOD. How can I repay you?"

"You already paid me, Eddie."

"You know what I mean!" Eddie points and the books and apparently also a DVD collection he now owns. "This must have been so much more work than you normally do, no? I doubt every client has you memorize the members of the Fellowship."

"Not just that, but also why Sam is the best," Steve smiles at him and fuck. Eddie might be in love. "It was more than usual, but I loved it, Eddie. That's why I like my job so much, helping people find themselves again. You don't owe me anything. Although, if you're offering..."

"I'm listening."

Steve runs his fingers through that majestic hair. "So, I didn't tell Dustin that I was decorating the house for you, but he's a huge fan of your music. Like, massive, has every album, has been following your career from the start. And feel free to tell me it's too much, you are my client after all, but...he'd love to meet you. Over a pizza, maybe? The plain ham and cheese one you like so it doesn't have too many flavors?"

And Eddie melts. Because Steve still remembers his pizza choice from months ago, even though this definitely wasn't in his notes. He decides there and then that Steven Harrington is a national treasure.

"Sure, big boy," he smiles at Steve, and hopes he didn't imagine Steve leaning into the touch. "How about you invite him over for a movie night or something? With pizza of course."

It looks like Steve could kiss him, but he doesn't. Not yet. That only happens a week later, when they bump into each other in Eddie's kitchen when they scramble to make more popcorn for Dustin.

Steve stays the next night. And maybe a few after that. Always in a different themed bedroom.

They travel for work a lot, but when they are both in Chicago, they always meet in the Green Dragon kitchen, cuddle in the bed that would be far too large for a hobbit, and in the night, Eddie wraps himself around Steve and whispers: "My preciousssss."

And Steve can't really complain, because it's his fault that his boyfriend has re-discovered his dorkiness, so why would he mind?

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Cang Qiong's rumor mill has a new topic.

Peak Lord Shen hasn't been seen in two weeks. The last time he was seen was flying back from An Ding, where he purportedly commandeered some unknown objects from An Ding's storerooms after a hasty discussion with Peak Lord Shang. He entered the Bamboo house and hasn't emerged since.

The most popular theory is Peak Lord Shen is conducting some sort of toeing-the-line-of-taboo ritual.

Eventually, someone convinces Mu Qingfang to do a wellness check.

The Qing Jing disciples greet their Mu-shishu respectfully, the disciple escorting him to the Bamboo House inquiring as to the nature of his visit, seeing as 'Shizun wasn't expecting shishu today.'

"This master is merely here to visit your Shizun."

The disciple bows after announcing Mu Qingfang's arrival.

Mu Qingfang opens the door.

"Shen-shixiong?"

"Mu-shidi? To what do I owe the pleA—FUCK get BACK HERE YOU ARE NOT"—the sounds of struggle reach Mu Qingfang's ears and he leaps to action, striding in to take stock of the situatio...n.

Shen-shixiong is flat on his stomach; outstretched hands tightly grasping a precocious ball of fluff. His eyes gleam in victory, the scene casting it in a more crazed light. There is a heaviness to Shen Qingqiu's eyes that cultivation cannot banish and miscellaneous stains on his person. And, looking around, the Bamboo House is a disaster. Books, brushes, scrolls, inkwells and fans are scattered around, many haphazardly dropped on the floor. There is. Also. Hay?

Mu Qingfang freezes in the doorway. Ball of fluff and Shen Qingqiu also freeze.

"Is... Shixiong alright?"

This seems to snap Shen Qingqiu into action. He scrambles up firmly but with care, cradling the fluffball. Shen Qingqiu gets himself in order as best he can with both his hands occupied and clears his throat.

"Ah...Yes. this master is fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?..."

The fluffball twitches, wriggling until Shen Qingqiu loses his grip on it. It hops to the floor. A juvenile Whitecrested Snowrabbit of Agility stares up at Mu Qingfang.

"This. Shidi could come back at a more opportune time?"

The bunny starts chewing on a scroll.

"I believe that would be best."

Mu Qingfang backs out of the doorway.

He does send tea to help with Shen-Shixiong's fatigue and a subspecies of carrot that Whitecrested Snowrabbits are supposed to favour though.

I wonder what the next topic of Cang Qiong's rumor mill will be?

[hanafubukki]

Summary: You never expected your cute bunny costume to elicit this type of reaction from Lilia Vanrouge.

After returning from Deuce’s hometown, you and Silver decided to show off your costumes to Lilia and the others.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at the time. Lilia commented how cute the outfits were while taking a bunch of pictures.

But you knew something was off as you spoke to Malleus, seeing those magenta eyes watching your every move.

A shiver went up your spine.

You swore you saw a fanged smirk from the corner of your eye.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

Melodic laughter fill the air as you ran.

You remember how Lilia cornered you right before this game of his.

Hand cupping your face as he leaned into you, “Run, my cute rabbit, run as fast as you can.”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You knew he was playing with you.

Could catch you any minute.

The light touch at your back or your ears teased how close he is to you this whole time.

How it was his choice to allow you to run.

But if you turned this corner…

A stream of water came to view.

“Oh?”

You flung yourself into the water as quick as you could.

The air stilled.

Before laughter broke out.

“Clever little prey. I went too easy on you.”

“I caught you~”

Fuck.

You were so close.

Gasps filled the air.

Clawed fingers wipes the tears clinging to your lashes.

Your outfit in tatters around you.

He couldn’t help the low chuckle escape him.

You were such a cunning prey.

And now? Such a delicious one.

He wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

You had his blood pumping during the hunt and he planned on using this extra energy on you.

“Lilia…”

“Hm?”

“Plea- Ah!”

“Not yet Beloved, I’m far from done.”

His hunger was far from satisfied.

Oh Bunny event, how you entice me so with bunnies💞💞💚💚

[fishyvamp]

18+ NSFW MDNI mind the tags

You whimpered as the S.C.R.E.A.M unit pinned you down. It's gears whirling and whining as it ground into you. It was strange in how it was like it was seeking gratification in a sexual way. Rubbing where it's dick would be against the curve of your ass. You clenched your fist, teeth gritted heavily, the scent of fresh oil you had just applied to it's joints in the air of the workshop. This must've been some sick joke someone was playing on you. Maybe some kind of hazing ritual to welcome the new technician.

"You got a boyfriend?" The bot seemed to tease. It's icy mechanical hand pressing against your throat pulling you flush against it's cold frame. The coveralls you wore doing very little to protect you. You could feel a scream building in your throat as none of this made sense. It had walked in of it's own free will, or at least the equivalent of free will for a android, requesting maintenance and when you had finished diagnosis everything was clear; No anomalies, not even signs of code tampering, yet when the bot was turned back on it began behaving unnaturally. All you knew for sure is If you made it out of this alive you will be looking through its code piece by piece to find out who tampered with your unit. Surely there would be a digital signature in there. Something to indicate who last touched the code.

"Stop!" You screamed out feeling it's other hand beginning to palm the front of your pants, "initiate command slash S!" The kill phrase coming out desperate the bolder it got practically crushing you against the table; it's hips picking up speed. Before stuttering to a stop, grip loosening just enough for you to slide out; breathing heavily you clutched your chest looking up at the machine that had you caged just moment ago. The fact that it didn't halt right away felt a bit unnerving but the nightmare was over. Clawing at the rough sandpaper like carpet you moved into the light of your dimly lit office. It felt like an eternity as you begged yourself to calm down long enough to plug in the diagnostic computer.

Your eyes shut tightly, you count backwards from ten, listening to the clicks and beeps as it dug whatever info it could, name after name appearing on the screen before you. The unit behaved too purposely to be a true malfunction. Your eyes darting across the screen, the only name catching your eye was that of Danny Johnson. You had to think on why that name sounded familiar despite no one currently working in your shop with that name. Who was Danny? Maybe it was a placeholder name?

It wouldn't be till later that you'd realize Danny was the name of the technician who was killed by a S.C.R.E.A.M unit a year earlier, that in of itself would explain the name, thinking maybe someone in your shop got ahold of his old login information to prank you... It wasn't unusual for the company to not care about removing the permissions of the dead. At least that was until discovering that Danny was the only deceased employee to have their profile completely removed from the system. Even his past work history and general employee file was completely null, as if he never existed. Not even old logs were accessible.

You know he was real the older employees talked about how sweet he was, how he could charm the pants off just about anyone. Well loved and respected, but he didn't exist according to the system. So how the hell did someone use Danny Johnson's information to modify code? Danny doesn't have authorization. Danny shouldn't be able to modify code. Danny technically doesn't exist. So why does it say "Danny wants you"?

[minimujina]

in pursuit of truth and companionship

xiangli yao is a smart, smart man. he has done a lot of growing and maturing in the course of his life, but not so much at once as he did when he met one particular person. see, something he has parsed out for himself is that he need not sever his pursuit of truth from the companionship of others—though it took much more than just personal intuition to learn that lesson.

it started with the old friend of yao’s youth, who, though he is long gone, has left perhaps the deepest impact on the man’s heart. the rover, then, ignited a particular warmth in him which soothed the leftover ache—it was comforting, all-encompassing affection that opened his heart to the kind of companionship he longed for. it was pleasant. yao looked at himself and saw not just an academic, but a human amongst other humans; he felt his heart beating in sync with the rover’s, with mortefi’s, with baizhi’s, with zhezhi’s. he realized he did not want to live in neglect of the softness that he inevitably possessed; he believed there must be a way to both pursue the truth of the world—finding groundbreaking solutions and engineering new technologies to sustain civilization—and also leave room for other people in his heart. there had to be a way. without connection to humanity, scientists would risk losing sight of the real goal.

you offered yao an apple; he declined with a reserved smile. you shrugged and bit into the sweet fruit yourself, humming in delight, swaying your feet, resting your head on xiangli yao’s shoulder. it was quiet, it was good. despite it all—the lament, the imminent destruction of human civilization—somewhere, birds were singing and bugs were thriving; the grass was green under your picnic blanket, and you sat beneath a healthy tree next to someone with whom near anything could be enjoyed. meanwhile, xiangli yao tuned in to the crunch of the apple as you bit into it, and he visualized the waves in the air, visualized your humming and the shuffling rustling bustling of your clothes and the grass and the leaves. the world, in his eyes, seemed so much more alive in your presence.

you were no resonator, but yao liked to imagine you must emit some kind of special frequency. you were too good, too pure. he could see it in his imagination when he looked at you—like an angelic halo of light, enveloping your form with the delicate hand of some otherworldly, divine power. you may not resonate the same way he does, no, but yao was certain that your very existence harmonized with the ebb and flow of solaris iii’s vibrations.

with locked pinkies, yao and his muse sat in silence, savoring the peace and contentment derived from the presence of another soul so alike in nature. it was quiet love, unassuming, forgiving, patient; you were all small smiles and gentle touches, and he was all the same.

yao liked to tie your shoes for you, since you had a lazy streak; as it turns out, carelessly throwing shoestrings into a loose knot is not enough to make it through the day, but you could not be bothered. so it was becoming a challenge for him to tie them in such a way that your rowdiness could not undo the work. and, say, perhaps you had schemed the lazy shoe-tying, so that he would develop such an intimate and domestic habit—but ah, well, some secrets are best kept as they are.

you liked to bring him lunch—for xiangli yao, the man that he was, had a horrible habit of forgetting to eat. with a blindness to time, poor interoceptive awareness, and the pinpoint focus of a laser, he hardly noticed when he grew hungry in the midst of his work; it was like his body was completely incognizant of its own needs. so you took it upon yourself to check in at lunchtime, very forcefully “suggesting” that he eat. as a result, his coworkers had grown very fond of you in all the time you spent around them.

and truly, there were none so taken with xiangli yao as you—his other half, as he liked to call you. he possessed a certain charm, and anyone who met the man could attest to his humble smile and quiet strength, those qualities that drew people in much more than he realized. but none were so fortunate as you to wake up every day and melt over the man all over again. internally, you could not fathom his existence, could not process his love for you, could not cope with the fact that you belonged to each other. all you could do was trace the lines of his handsome face with your hands, studying each groove and blemish, burning the image of his smile into your retinas so you may never part from the warmth you felt upon seeing it. to be away from him felt almost painful at times, if only because his presence alone was soothing and regulating, and perhaps you’d gotten too used to the privilege. he enjoyed teasing you about that, too.

if anything, xiangli yao has found that deep human connection can only serve to further motivate him in his search for truth, certainly not to hold him back, as he previously feared.

with his abilities, he had felt a sense of duty from a young age to put himself to work, to be a leader among the brilliant minds at the forefront of science. he could not be distracted, he could not let anything hinder his progress. he felt he would somewhat fail humanity otherwise—much too big a burden for just one man to bear.

all this time, that fear has clashed with something deep inside of him that could not shake the desire for companionship. he practically tore himself into shreds, afraid it would disservice the progress of humanity for him to do anything other than put his brain to work. but at the same time, his heart was so soft, and he longed so inexplicably much for someone to just see him.

and then, just like that, yao’s innermost wish had been granted. the war waging in his mind, body, and soul finally came to a standstill—he made friends, and he felt wanted for something other than his abilities. he had not felt such a feeling since his youth.

further, he found that having dear companions boosted his mood and health, which in turn benefitted his research. he could no longer remember why he had always believed so adamantly that relationships were distractions, and something to be feared. perhaps it was an idea he gleaned from his father, whether intentional from the man or not.

as it turns out, some of the most profound truths can be found within the human soul. xiangli yao has discovered this to be true just knowing you; he has found it to be true in the crevices of your palm, in the wrinkles of your skin, in the color of your eyes. he has come to know so much more about the world since knowing you. and he finds himself all the more eager to search for answers, knowing he has someone so dear to love and protect in this world.

[spideyhexx]

do you have any piss thoughts for the tl im searchung

mdni; fem!reader, dubcon, cw piss, degrading

peacekeeper coryo always bringing out his favorite district girl to the woods to fuck her and if he’s in a particularly angry mood for whatever reason, he’s a lot rougher, a lot more degrading in more aspects than one.

he doesn’t lay down his jacket when you’re on your knees for him, so your knees are down in the dirt, getting bruised and scraped and dirtied and he doesn���t bring a blanket to lay down with you on, both of you getting dirtied by dirt and stray leaves, etc.

he’s constantly spewing things right to your ear, like, “you’re so fuckin’ filthy, no one could guess that, huh? I could. I knew you’d be a slut.”

Most times when he’s in these rougher moods, when you’re spent on your knees and sitting back against a tree to catch your breath, he tugs at his cock a few times, standing closer over you and pisses directly onto you, anywhere he saw fit, your tits, your cunt, your legs, your hair, wherever he felt like it.

And you’d always gasp, always forget he loves to do that, and you’d reprimand yourself for how much you liked it. How much you loved that he marked you. Because even though he threatens he can easily throw you away and fuck another girl, you know he’s only fucking you right now. That you’re the one who he’s coming back to and seeking out.

and usually he wouldn’t pay attention to you when he pissed on you, but this time, he catches the way you squeeze your thighs together as his piss soaks through your top, he chuckles, “of course you fucking like this.” 

Coryo moves forward to grab at your hair and tug your head up to look at him, his cock dripping piss to your legs, he’s not caring at all where it goes, or if it ruins every inch to you, “my dirty little whore likes getting pissed on hm? You should’ve told me sooner that you liked it.”

[setmeatopthepyre]

Recuperate

[@118dailydrabble day 50] [part of antarct-fic | bucktommy | 118 words]

Soft lips kiss a path down Tommy's back and he huffs a breathless laugh into his pillow. “Evan,” he admonishes. “Give me a second to recuperate.”

The kisses stop, replaced by hot breath on his neck, a big, warm hand ghosting across his heaving flank. “Recuperate? We've barely even started.” Evan's voice is low, gravely, teasing. It sends a pleasant shiver down Tommy's spine.

“Then how am I already out of breath?”

Evan's hands, Evan's weight, disappear. Only his voice remains, right by Tommy's ear. “Because you keep running away from me.”

Tommy jolts awake, gasping for air in the darkness of his dorm room, and with the most confusing morning wood he's had since his army days.

[venustrvck]

the christian yukimiya brain rot is not leaving, thinking you two meet in church bc u frequent the same one, and you meet young — him as an altar server and you on the choir.

he's taken in by your voice, the way it carries through the church, how clear it is... how beautiful you look when you sing.

& you both volunteer frequently. it's a small, tight-knit community after all, and not many people consistently attend, it really needs all the help it can get.

he's teasing and playful when you make communion wafers, and you eat the left over scarps together.

one time as young teens, after helping out with bible studies, you snuck wine together. the priest scolded you two so hard... but it's still a fun memory to look back on.

his first gift to you, as lovers, is a silver cross necklace. it's elegant and dainty, and he'd saved up a lot from his modelling gig to be able to get you genuine silver. you wear it all the time.

[localcanadiancreature62]

My Thoughts on Fiddlestan

Okay you people are literally all or nothing with these mfs,like it's either all gut wretching angst or all tooth rotting fluff. So i raise you,"what if it was both?" aka i made them have a good time but they also have Issues ✨. @misteria247 you might wanna see this one cuz i know you love Fiddlestan lol.

So first things first,their first meeting. They would meet soon after the portal incident when Fidds' sanity is slowly starting to slip from the first several usages of the memory gun and he ends up going to Ford's house after having a vague familiarity with the place as well as a desire to make amends with his friend while he still remembers him,only for him to see Stan at the door. A man wearing his best friend's face. Stan lets the guy in while still keeping the ruse of pretending to be his brother after he just faked his death,trying his hardest to pretend that he knows what Fidds is talking about regarding the portal and Ford's time in college.

A few weeks pass,and Fidds get the slight suspicion that he's not actually talking to Ford as "Ford" brushes off his science-y ramblings with "I don't understand" or "I'm too tired to hear about it maybe later",when he knew that the real Ford would know exactly what he's talking about regarding his ideas for modern computers or Schrodinger's cat as well as gladly ramble along with him even if it's 2am at the time instead of ignoring it. He also realizes that "Ford" surprisingly knows nothing about anomalies and either tries to shoo creatures away or just beats the hell out of them rather than studying them whenever they have an encounter with gnomes or something,plus the fact that he gets jumpy whenever an eye-bat appears. Fidds is still sane enough to notice these "tells" and so he confronts the man about it despite Stan already being nervous about not being able to keep up the act. Stan decides to come clean after the southern man literally backed him into a corner while interrogating him about who he is and where the real Stanford is,he explains the truth about Ford's disappearance and that he's trying to fix the portal while having no idea about how his brother's science mumbo jumbo works. Fidds' expression of anger and fear changes into guilt sympathy and even intrigue as he regrets trying to aggressively gouge the man for answers,when the grifter turned out to care about Ford all along instead of selfishly stealing his life for success. He wondered about Stan's relation to Ford and the man explains that he's Ford's twin brother and that they had a rough patch in their brotherly relationship which lead to this whole mess. Fidds then offers to help fix the portal since he's the one who co built it and Stan couldn't be more than happy,although with the condition of no more lies as that impersonation fiasco genuinely scared him which Stan agrees to. They didn't get along at first with Stan's stubborn personality and tendency to tease others at random while Fidds was just really tired and he wanted to get Ford back so that he can get out of this whole mess,but they managed.

Throughout the building of the portal,the two begin to bond regarding their history with Ford and how the man inadvertently screwed them over with his ego. Then talking about how they always felt inferior in comparison to everyone else (Stan with Ford,Fidds with his rough and tumble ranch family who roughhoused constantly while he was a scrawny nerd),discovering that they weren't so different as they thought. Stan ends up taking his partnership with Fiddleford more seriously as he soon realizes that they only have each other,while Fidds starts to humor Stan's teasing and occasional goofing off since he doesn't have anyone else to turn to with Emma may and Tate still refusing contact from him ever since the divorce (just so that Fidds wouldn't yknow. cheat on his wife). They soon become friends who often look out for each other with Stan trying to stop Fidds from overworking himself while Fidds teaches Stan about quantum physics as he tries really hard to understand despite being the "dumb" twin.

Fidds' use of the memory gun becomes less frequent as he didn't have a reason to blast himself with it anymore due to finally having someone that understands his troubles with Ford and the darn triangle feller,no longer feeling as though he had to forget everything as he had someone to talk to about all of this (i mean in canon he wouldn't never went insane if Ford fucking talked to him and explained why he's still going through with the portal with his desperate desire for approval). Stan sees his steadfast love and support be appreciated by someone besides his ungrateful brother,while Fidds sees his unwavering loyalty and handmade gifts be cherished by someone who cares rather than ignored by his egotistical friend.

The fact that the two found someone who cared even when they have their own troubles means a lot to them,this steadfast love and concern was what made Fidds and Stan slowly fall for each other. Stan finally found someone who appreciates him and sees him as worthy even with his many mistakes or occasional stupidity while Fidds finally found someone who won't waste his loyalty and kindness in favor of their own selfish wishes (*cough* Ford *cough*). They're finally happy,after dealing with so much pain. They had their happy ending,or did they? 😏.

While they WERE in a healthy and loving relationship,things weren't all sunshine and rainbows. Stan outright refuses to talk about his problems in fear of being a burden to his nerd plus the emotional walls he put up were too strong even when he tries to be open toward the southern man which always ends in him not wanting to talk about it,meanwhile Fidds opts to metaphorically run away from his issues by using the memory gun to forget every argument and misunderstanding he had with the drifter (which were mostly caused by the memory gun in the first place). Whenever they have a problem with something that the other does that isn't related to the portal,they don't set boundaries they don't talk about it they don't confront the other about it,they do NOTHING.

Fidds slowly starts to go insane again as he starts forgetting about Stan at times with his use of the memory gun whenever they have an argument which is a LOT of arguments as every couple doesn't always agree with each other,he lashes out and has a paranoia episode over either imagining Stan being a stranger that wants to hurt him or him being Ford that wants to take revenge on him for quitting the project which obviously upsets the drifter but he doesn't do anything about it as he cannot afford to lose the one thing he has left because of his dumb problems (little does he know,is that he's already doing it. he's already losing Fidds cuz of his issues). Stan on the other hand,starts treating Fiddleford with the same codependency that he gave Ford with him expecting the hillbilly to always be there for him and always put HIS interests at heart despite the man having his own wants and needs with his Mcgucket Labs project. Thus Fidds is being taken for granted again while Stan is confused and angry over why this hick is ignoring him and trying to abandon him like Ford did (Stanley your brother issues are showing).

It only gets worse in the moments culminating to Fidds' insanity,where Stan doesn't even know who his hillbilly partner anymore while Fidds is completely unaware of the torment he's putting Stan through with his erratic behavior and amnesiac ramblings. Stan was there for the tapes,he was behind the camera with every transition as the southern man told him it was a little experiment regarding the memory gun and he believed that at first only to soon realize that Fidds was literally frying his own brain with that gun after reading his notes about the electricity that erases the memories plus the side effects of prolonged use. By the time Fidds had that car crash,he quit the project again and stopped seeing Stan as he left the drifter alone to fix the portal by himself albeit with more knowledge of how it works due to the various quantum mechanics lessons the man drilled into him. He just needed to figure out the elaborate codes to actually activate it. Stan missed Fidds as he was guilty about their last interaction being an argument about the memory gun and even encountered him but with a new red robe while the man went on and on about some memory cult,but he knew that the man is too far gone for him to make amends with.

Stan then ended up using Fidds' Mcgucket Labs money to support himself but then he realized that it won't be enough as that business was just a start up gig that didn't had the chance to become successful due to the portal and the memory gun,so he had to come up with another way to survive all alone. Then he went to the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store and saw that everyone was interested in Ford's weird mad scientist house,taking everyone there as he saw that people's interest in the freaky things in that house would make great revenue for him. The Mystery Shack (originally the Murder Hut) was born,and Stan had finally left his life of being a miserable grifter behind. However.. he still saw his Fiddleford rummage in the trash or make killer robots in the news sometimes. He yearns for what could've been yet he shakes his head as he knew what he had with the nerd was currently unsalvageable in his current insane state.

[altcvnningham]

hungry

william "case" calderon x f!reader x adler

summary: messy drabble inspired by this ask, where i can absolutely imagine a threeway with case and adler <3

tags/cw: nsfw, mdni, fem!reader, dubcon (at first), threesome, oral (giving and receiving), groping mention, light spitroasting, established case x reader, case 'shares' reader, adler is a sicko who hates seeing other bitches have what he wants, copious use of the word "pretty" wc: 1k

a/n: a snippet i might write more to if i can be bothered. unedited, messy, and sloppy as the head i'm gonna give them both. i just needed to get this idea out of my mind before it drove me insane. i still feel shy posting smut and i only had enough steam for just a drabble so sorry if it's uhhhhh not good,,,

It’s like being pulled in two completely different directions- greedy hands groping in all places, guttural grunting against your ear and into your neck, cornered by two wild animals, rabid and snarling. By no means are they ignorant of your needs, but it does get lost in the white haze of bliss as they both selfishly chase their own pleasure into you.

Hungry, is the only word that comes to mind when you let them take you, share you, like a wounded lamb torn between two wolves; the glint in Case’s eye evident of some faraway fantasy of his being fulfilled as he watches you get ruined by somebody else, someone with hands just as dirty- if not dirtier- as his; the foggy look in Adler’s indicative of a kind of possessiveness that you could practically feel burning into you whenever he glowered at you across a room, worse whenever you were with Case. Always a wretched dog, starving for what isn’t his. Never liking to seeing someone with a shiny toy he isn’t allowed to sink his teeth into. It was all inevitable, that it would happen like this. Only really a matter of when.

You’re wide-eyed and helpless when Case presses you down into the mattress, a firm hand on your tummy, pinning you like a moth as your legs kick and flail around his hips. Your head spills back so sweetly when you hear Adler’s heavy footsteps behind you- or, at least Case thinks so, his pretty girl- hair dangling in tangled tresses off the edge of the bed as you watch, upside-down, as Adler leisurely saunters over to you, unbuckling his belt.

The image of yourself laid bare upon the bed reflects in his glasses, your own doe-eyed expression mocking you with your shameless submission. You catch the flit of a smirk tug at Adler’s mouth as he tilts his head down at you. You don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s looking at you- like, really looking at you, raking down your figure and eating this picture of you up, not knowing if this first time seeing you this way might also be the last. Case is being such a good sport, sharing you like this. Adler wouldn’t want it to go to waste rushing himself, being unappreciative. You’re just too pretty- he’s wondered what you’d look like under those clothes for weeks.

You see in that same reflection Case’s body close over yours, mouthing over your breasts, down your abdomen, kissing- ow, biting- between your thighs, before he takes your legs and slings them limply over his shoulders. You go to crane your neck back down to watch as he pushes his face into your cunt but Adler’s hand from behind you finds its way down the column of your throat, uncharacteristically careful as he coaxes your head back, and tucks his thumb under your jaw to turn your face to the side. You gaze upward, so sweet and silly as your mouth parts in shock, hearing the sound of him smacking his cock against your hollowed cheek before you see him doing it- if you had any protest at all it’d go unheard with how he tuts at you anyway, so condescending when he nudges the head against your pouting lips and crooning about how that mouth’s too pretty not to take it for me, sweetheart.

You cry out as Case’s tongue licks a thick, languid stripe over your clit, and Adler uses your gasping mouth to push his cock inside. You’d already been drooling nonsense when they’d groped you in the hallway, bullying you into pliant submission, all your babbling please don’t and someone will hear and you’re being too rough only serving to make your mouth nice and hot and wet for when he fucks it. And he groans, so appreciative of you, of that pretty mouth your girl’s got, Case, and he fucks it slow, just to show you how much he likes it. Savouring every inch he feeds you, that your tongue curls up eagerly to taste. The thick intrusion, nearly too much to bear, has you gagging almost immediately, reflexively jerking your head back to breathe, but Adler’s hand slides into your hair and keeps you still, steady, insisting it’s easier that way. Relax, he murmurs dryly. You barely hear him over the sound of Case’s starved moaning as he eats you out.

But when Case gets too impatient, his own need stifling, he clambers over you, slots himself between your thighs clumsily, jostling you around enough to push your throat up further on Adler’s length; it hits the back of your throat with a shrill cry and you all but weep when Case slides into you, trembling hands grasping his shoulders as he fills you to the hilt in one careless thrust.

Between your pathetic noises you hear Adler laugh, a snide and condescending chuckle as his hand brushes your hair back from your face, mutterings of how precious you look taking it all so well. You never thought you’d feel so enamoured by his praise, when it’s uttered so mockingly. So different from Case’s, who gasps between sucking your tits, that you’re so perfect, baby, so fucking sweet. A swell of pride as you slacken your throat, earning a broken moan from Adler when you swallow him deeper. Doesn’t much matter that you choke and gag and spring tears to your eyes at the pressure- somehow even the asphyxiation feels like a reward, evidence of your effort. Case is slack-jawed as he fucks you, slow and languid, airy and mindless with eyes fixed on your sweat-sodden face as you take Adler so willingly, so obedient. In his delirium, hypnotised at the sight of you blissed out and skewered between them both, he draws a thumb up to stroke your cheek, to feel where Adler stuffs the hollow of it.

Perfect girl.

[dreamingthroughwords]

Sometimes, Xie Lian will sit in the rain.

He’ll go out in their garden, smile softly as he passes by their freshly planted herbs and flowers, and strolls to the edge where he can see everything he and his husband have built together.

Adorned only in his robes, bamboo hat long passed to someone who needed it; who had shown him no kindness yet Xie Lian could not help but give that kindness to someone who had only given him anything but.

The rain soaked through him, drips down his face and wets his hair, and he lets the rain surround him and lets it leave gentle pats against his cheeks as if it was a tender kiss, as he reminisces.

Hua Cheng notices the first time he does this of course, he follows him outside.

He’ll say “You’ll catch a cold, Gege;”, before taking off his outer robe and placing it on Xie Lian’s shoulders, and he’ll sit next to his beloved.

Hua Cheng always waits for Xie Lian to speak first. Knowing him too well, oh so well, better than himself, he knows Xie Lian needs to gather his thoughts; turn them into something that makes sense, that coherently wraps his feelings into words that he may struggle with.

But his husband has all and so much patience for him; he will wait for him no matter how long it takes. That is a fact well known to both of them.

So Hua Cheng simply sits next to his husband, and when he pulls out his umbrella to cover Xie Lian, his husband stops him.

“It’s alright, San Lang, I’ll be fine,” he says, gazing at Hua Cheng with the usual kindness and love his still can’t believe is directed his way.

Xie Lian will then turn his head back to the sky, where Hua Cheng takes in the profile of his beloved as the rain sticks to his skin, takes in his neck that was once shackled now bare, and visions of a bamboo hat flicker in his memory, and Hua Cheng is beginning to understand.

“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” Xie Lian speaks and Hua Cheng knows this is Xie Lian’s way of telling him without needing to be direct. He doesn’t need to be for Hua Cheng to understand his everything. “How cool the rain feels. It’s almost kind, like reaching out to you when you need it. Don’t you think?”

And Hua Cheng has flashes of a life once gone; one that was his and reborn a new as he watched as someone, finally, gave his God the kindness that he so deserved.

Tears of the sky can hold memories and the one held within it today is the one of the hand that had reached out for Xie Lian when no one else did; a nobody in a world of meetings in which are fleeting yet one person took the time to go out of their way to finally, return the kindness to one who had given so much he almost had none left.

“I do,” Hua Cheng whispers as Xie Lian smiles at him when he knows his husband understands him, and for the rest of the day they simply sit with the other as they think back on all that’s happened and how they finally, are back within each others reach, will be forever and eternally.

Each time it rains, together, they will join the other as raindrops coat their skin. Never forgetting, and always remembering, but now, never alone, and forever grateful for those who they crossed paths with who even showed one shred of kindness. Because sometimes it really is only one person, that can change everything.

[devildom-moss]

I was thinking about Diavolo using his magic on MC

(angst) | (slight comfort) | (depressed gn!MC - w/ recurring episodes)

Diavolo noticed that there had been a change in you for a few weeks – something subtle and hidden. Whatever it was had filled him with a sense of dread, and he decided it was time to use his powers on you. He made sure to get you alone.

“MC, I called you here to ask, how are you?”

���I’m okay.”

“You’re lying.” It almost sounded like an accusation – had he not seemed so certain. You gulped.

“I told you: I don’t like you using your powers on me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you’ve been off for a while. I was worried.” And he was right to be worried. “I needed to know – to confirm. Why did you lie? . . . Are you depressed again? There’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”

You took a second, sighing at his words. “Clearly there is.”

“What do you –”

“You said ‘again.’ Do you know what I hear when you ask that? ‘Why aren’t you better yet? I thought you were fixed. How are you already sad again? Is it going to be like this forever? Why can’t you just be happy?”

Diavolo was stunned and he stared at you with a disgusting hybrid of pity and guilt. “You know I don’t think that, right?”

“Of course I know that, and it only makes me feel worse.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t matter how kind you are, my brain still tells me that every time I get like this, it’s going to burden you and everyone else. I start to think: why did you have to bring me here? If you never met me, things would be easier for you. I wish you had picked someone better. I wish you didn’t waste your kindness on me.”

“But I want to. It doesn’t take as much time and effort to love you as you think it does.” Diavolo moved to hug you, but he stopped himself short. “I know it sounds selfish, but I’m happy you’re in my life. Just let me love you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“You’re lying – well half-lying. Be honest; do you not like that I’m in love with you?” You bit your lip, trying to hold the truth back. Diavolo broke your resolve with a single “please.”

“Fine. I want you to love me. I want you to fix me, but I don’t want you to get disappointed when it doesn’t work. I don’t want to be disappointed when it doesn’t work.”

“Then don’t expect it to. Can I?” Diavolo opened his arms to hold you. When you didn’t protest, he pulled you firmly against him. “I can just love you. It doesn’t have to be more monumental than that. Besides, I don’t think I could stop myself even if you asked me to.”

[heymrspatel]

ian’s feeling a little self conscious and mickeys just straight up loving on his husband and telling him how sexy and fine he looks!

ohohooo boy you've hit me right in the chest with this one... ok, let's see!

---

ian's having one of those days. those days that don't happen super often anymore, but they do happen. waking up feeling physically heavy, groggy, slow. the harsh lighting in the bathroom making him notice those extra soft bits on his body, where he used to be taught and lean. he looks down, where his tummy sticks out above the band of his boxers, sighs.

eyes back up, he brushes his teeth, gazes at his reflection, and acknowledges that this is a fleeting feeling - because nowadays he looks at himself and sees it. happiness and health and comfort in his settled life. he loves it. he's sturdy, strong, beefy. he's soft, holdable, grounding. he sees it, he knows, mickey reminds him.

he sees it, washes his toothbrush, wipes at his face, takes a final look. he knows, but it's just one of those days. he turns off the judgmental fluorescents and pads back into the bedroom towards his....

my god... there, face bathed in soft light and gorgeous, mickey. he's shifted in the ten or so minutes ian's been gone. sprawled out and entirely tangled in the comforter. left hand sticking out and clutching ian's pillow - like he was searching, wanting, grasping - coming up empty. he's awake now. ian moves, the floors creak, mickey's eyes zero in on him.

"do you know how fucking cold it is in this room?... why the fuck are you up this early?" and ian's quiet, suddenly realizing he came to a stop in front of their full length mirror. a glance at himself, back at mickey. maybe he doesn't have to be up yet, it's saturday. maybe he can spare lounging around a bit more. glance and back. he should get under there, mickey said he's cold. glance, back. he doesn't move, rooted in place. "...come back under here and get on me!" glance...

"babyface... c'mere"

he moves. mickey rolling away, untangling, giving him his space in bed back... immediately shifting back and attaching himself to him. "always leaving me here in the mornings... can't stick around for me? hmm?" the drama of it all making ian chuckle and press his lips to mickey's forehead. he feels mickey's hands wander around his chest and down to his belly, making him draw in a breath and stiffen. he sees mickey's eyes squint and his nose scrunch in the process. a small tut escaping his lips. here it comes.

"got myself a human heater... warm and soft. teddy bear mother fucker." and that's a new one! "you gotta stop leaving me here every morning. you're like one of them weighted blankets you're always going on about... hmmph... comfy." he nuzzles into ian's chest, wrapping tighter around him, and breathing so deeply. smiling. "smell so good... i think i get why you're always sniffin'." giving quick cute pecks along his collar bone. "so many freckles. all over. this one here is my favorite." he moves to the hollow of his neck. giving it a little lick.

and ian can't help but giggle really. because his husband is so in tune, because he always knows when something is up, because his licks are tickling him!

mickey pulls until he's securely pinned under ian. "my big guy. cover me just right" his hands begin their familiar dance. over ian's strong shoulders, down the muscles of his back, lightly scratching back up. "you threw me around so good last night. was fucking airborne at one point."

oh. these giggly kisses are some of ian's favorites!

"you gave it to me so good and hard, made me grab on to all of you, huh?" his hands are everywhere, covering ian's body with love. "so sexy. do you know how good you feel and look when you're overpowering me like that?" the complete contrast of his statement and his soft lips making ian all fuzzy and warm.

"so good. so soft. so strong. so hard." a mantra. each declaration punctuated with the sweetest kisses. his hands wandering, grabbing, pressing ian's weight down. soft little moans making an appearance.

and god if ian doesn't feel like he's floating! high, on a cloud. sustained by mickey's touches, his sounds, his scent. his words, his words, his words. breaking through and helping him see and remember what he already knows. because today is one of those days, yes, and it'll take more than this to claw his way fully out... but he's being uplifted and loved and touched in the right ways. in the ways that wiggle in and help chip at that wall and appears in times like these.

he sees his strong arms framing mickey's head, how his size and weight are making him feel. he knows he's good, he's healthy, he feels his heart pumping strong and full of love in his chest. it'll take more than this, but this helps. every part of this helping, chipping away.

he breathes, he kisses, mickey moans...

he sees, he knows, mickey reminds him...

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Alone

I am back! ( @spotaus almost forgot you this time woops)

I am gonna be real. I spend quite a while thinking about what I wanted to write next in this little series. And I realised I hadn't had a Nightmare POV drabble in a while!

So we are back to Nightmare :3

First Drabble. Prev Drabble. Next Drabble.

This is a look into what Nightmare had been up to and how he personally took to the changes he went through.

------

He hates this.

He hates this he hates this he hates this-

Nightmare shakes his skull. It feels... weird. All of this is weird. He doesn't... He normally isn't this emotional right? It is starting to become hard to remember how it was before.

He hates how he feels.

He is Nightmare!

Terror of the muliverse! The unwanted twin...

He strikes fear in the souls of monsters! Everyone hates him and wants him gone...

Leader of the Gang! Younger brother of Dream...

Bringer of negativity! Untrusted, unwanted and unloved...

He is Nightmare! He is never enough...

And Nightmare doesn't feel like this! This... this... afraid useless powerless ... this way.

Another cold wind and his whole body shivers in the cold. Nightmare is quick to tug himself behind some boxes and pulls the hoody closer around him.

He hates being out in the open. Being in the open risks him being seen and when people see him they will try and hurt him again they will realise he is no longer his powerful self and...

His mind freezes at the implications of what will happen when people realise how powerless he is now. They will realise that Nightmare is weak and they will take revenge.

Revenge on all that he did. Revenge on defending himself.

It would be deserved. It would be deserved.

Nightmare shakes his skull again. Those thoughts... They keep coming back. Things that he hadn't thought about in ages. Thinking in ways he hadn't thought about in ages. Nightmare had thought... he thought that was in the past. Just like being weak and powerless was in the past.

Aparently not. As his form had shrunk to be so small. Nightmare thinks he is just under three feet. Back to the length he had been all those years ago. the same body he had had all those years ago. Even the hold wounds and pains had returned.

Ironic that the wound that would have killed him became healed and hidden but everythign else was still there. as if it had been frozen while he had been older.

Nightmare tugs the hoody tighter around him. It is too big but that is alright. It is warm and soft and makes him feel a bit better he feels safe in it. Even if he knows it doesn't make sense. It jsut brings him comfort.

Hell if Dust finds out he stole from him...

The villagers never reacted well to Nightmare having anything. Even things that Dream had gifted him had been taken and destroyed. He doesn't deserve to have things he likes after all. And Nightmare has quite a few things he really likes at the moment.

The hoody, his book, the old backpack and his feel tools to survive on his own.

Nothing truly compared to what he had managed to make before, when the apples gave him power. But yet... this means more...

It is starting to get hard to remember how to think and plan. The longer he is in this form... his old form... the before apple form. The harder it becomes for him to rationalise and think how his older self used to think.

Which... isn't promising.

Still. He came with a mission. And that is food.

Nightmare glances around the corner and down the street. This is some Lustverse universe. Nightmare can't quite feel and sense the differences anymore but he knows the basics.

If he had known that so many of his powers and skills would disappear he would have grabbed his book with the muliverse verses summaries.

Nightmare had figured he hadn't needed it as he knows the multiverse and can sense things. Oh how he had been the fool on that.

At least the balance wasn't demanding his attention and foucs every five seconds now. that makes it a bit easier to plan with his now much more limited attention span and problem solving skills.

Back to the matter at hand. Lustverse. He specifically went here because most of the Lustverses have a deep wish for children and so a deep care. Even if they are... X-rated.

Nightmare takes a deep breath and looks into the distance and his destination. Grillby's.

Yes. He knows what Grillby's is in these universes, and yes he knows he runs into the risk of running into this universes Sans or Papyrus which will just spell trouble.

However he much prefers to go to these locations as it is less populated and generally friendlier.

He pulls the hood up and goes towards the building. No bouncers near the enterance but then again it isn't like they have children or underaged people in these areas.

Nightmare goes inside and makes sure to keep staring down as much as he can. He only glances around once to locate the bar where he can get food and goes straight there.

Oh how he dislikes being here. Too many people. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to this universe. He will stand out too much. But people won't attack him either as he is a child... he will be safe here...

He gets to the bar and with some light difficulty manages to climb up the chair enough. No one really notices as everyone focusses on the main stage and leer and shout some very pointed comments.

Nightmare doens't feel comfortable hearing those things either and realises he never felt comfortable about these things. Even when he was still an adult and others joked with him about these type of things. Had... had he always still been... like this at his core?

Problem to think about for later. Now he has to order.

The Grillby of this universe looks at him and waits.

Nightmare doesn't feel so certain about this anymore but still he asks "What... what is on the menu?"

Grillby pauses and shoots him a weird look but Nightmare just hides further into the hoody. Thanking his lucky stars that Dust's left over magic makes it so that the hood hides his face.

Grillby ends up pushing a menu over. Nightmare glances down and feels his skull explode with warmth. That is the WRONG menu!

Nightmare looks away from it and stares at the bar as he pushes it back "I meant... food... menu..." He didn't remember that wrong right?! These places also sell food right? Even if it is more snack food?!

Grillby doesn't say anything but Nightmare doesn't dare to look up. He feels tense and keeps glancing back at where the door is. Getting out is easy enough but he wouldn't know where to go after and-

The menu is pulled away and a new one is pushed into his hand. nightmare glances and lets out a sigh of relieve as he sees actual food! only to feel his hope sink as those prices are way too high!

Nightmare freezes as he stares down at the prices. Okay. okay this is fine. just. find the cheapest thing!

He focusses on the menu and searches for the most promising item to buy. He knows he is pulling a face at most of the prices. 150G?! 160G?! What even is this capitalism?!

Eventually he gets to the snack section and isn't too happy wiht it. Snacks aren't good for mortals and kids.. so not good for him. but he needs to eat. the finger food looks okayish... 60G is still a lot but Nightmare will just have to accept it.

His magic is too low to make another jumb and stealing anything is a sure way to get him to be noticed. He searches for his pocket and takes out his bag of gold. He opens it and starts counting the gold coins.

Nightmare mutters the numbers softly to himself. He had been starting to notice that it was getting harder and harder to do certain things. one of them is counting higher numbers. counting out loud helps a tiny bit.

he finishes counting at 54 and freezes. No. no no no no no!

Nightmare pulls the bag closer and starts to recount the gold. come on. please.

54 again.

Nightmare feels his socket start to itch but forces himself to keep it in. don't cry. you are not a crybaby. there is no use to cry over soemthing this stupid. if you cry people will see your weakness and use that.

Nightmare pushes the menu back and mutters "Sorry for wasting your time." He gets ready to hop off the barstool-

"Wait."

Nightmre freezes when he sees a hand reach for him and he flinches away. only to fall backwards off the stool with a yelp.

He falls right on his tailbone and groans as it hurts a lot and holds it as he blinks through a new type of tears.

A gasp from above him and Nightmare looks up. Just to see Grillby stare in shock at him. Nightmare is confused before he realises that the hood is no longer on.

Panic.

run.

Nightmare immediantly grabs his hood and pulls it fully on again. He grabs his bag with gold and turns before sprinting towards the exit.

"Wait! It is okay!"

Nightmare doesn't turn around and reaches the exit and rushes outside. The cold hits him like wall and his magic and body both protest at it. it is too cold and he has too little energy and magic.

Some people shoot him looks and Nightmare feels the panic return. He takes a step back before rushing towards the side and disappearing between two buildings.

He runs for a while as he rushes between buildings. until he slips on some ice and falls hard.

aw...

He pushes himself back up with shaking arms and glares at the ground. He is a mess. He lost everything. he tried so hard but what did it matter? in the end nothing mattered. He just lost everything again.

A sob finally escapes him and he just rolls up. He hates everything. he hates himself.

Nightmare isn't sure how long he just lays there feeling miserable.

after all this time nothing changed. He didn't change. after 500 years of spreading negativity and learning. he is still just him. no wonder they left. He wouldn't want to be stuck with him either.

Footsteps.

Nightmare freezes and hugs hismelf tighter. no. no others.

"... kid?"

Ngihtmare feels his breathing pick up and he forces his body too move even if everythign hurts, seems like his double fall agitated his old wounds. he glances around and wiggles himself behind some garbage cans and goes quiet and still. They can't hurt him if they can't find him.

more footsteps and a soft blue glow fills the alleyway. it doesn't take long before Nightmare can see him. It seems that grillby had followed him. Grillby seems to be following the tiny marks left in the snow and stops by the spot where Nightmare had fallen.

A frown on the fire elemental as he touches the ice and- oh. there is blood there. Nightmare slowly raises his hand and touches his skull before feeling pain rush through him. he removes his hand and finds blood on it.

great, he got himself hurt.

Grillby looks to the side and Nightmare follows his sight and freezes at the very clear marks on where he went.

Grillby raises his head and stares right at him. Nightmare remains frozen right where he is as he feels himself shake and his bone start to rattle.

Grillby moves a hand and Nightmare flinches. Grillby immediantly freezes and moves his hand away "It is okay... i won't hurt you."

Nightmare just stares at him. Still shaking and now not just the panic and fear but also the cold. The hoody is warm but not enough to keep him warm. Probably because he grow up in a universe where it was forever spring and early summer.

Nightmare literally wasn't made for the cold.

Grillby inches closer and Nightmare pushes himself further back. The wall is freezing against his back and side but it is better than being near the other monster.

Grillby frowns "Where... where did you come from?"

Ngihtmare stares back. He doesn't have an answer for the other. Not one he wants to give.

Grillby frowns but pulls his bag over "You... you wanted food right?" he pushes the bag closer to him.

Nightmare feels hismelf eye the bag. He needs the food. He wants it so badly. The last time someone gave him food it had been a villager and the food had been drugged all so they could grab him and-

NIghtmare shakes his skull and pushes back further. Stay away.

Grillby frowns at him before trying to give a smile. "It is some of the food you had been looking at." he nudges the bag again.

Nightmare frowns and pushes further back as he glares. people don't just smile at him unless they want something from him. or want to trick him. He isn't falling for it. he swallows before speaking "I don't... have that much gold..." there. he can't pay for it.

Grillby just pushes the bag closer "It is okay. free of charge."

Nightmare glares at the other "No."

Grillby frowns "It is okay-"

Nightmare feels himself get angry and that breaks through the fear "I know you did something to it! leave me alone!"

Girllby looks pained and... pity.

Nightmare hates pity. Dream had stared at him wiht pity after he broke out. as if Dream pitied him for defending himself.

Grillby pulls the bag back over to himself and takes out some of the food. oh that is a sandwich and Nightmare feels his magic knit together and the hunger returns fullforce.

Grillby takes a moment to pull a piece of it and oh that is pulled beef in there and it looks so good. Grillby pops it into his mouth and swallows it.

and... nothing happened.

Nightmare keeps staring at the other as he waits. Nightmare knows from experience those things work very fast but nothing happens to the other.

Grillby lays it back on the paper and pushes it over "It is okay... it is just food."

Ngihtmare gulps as he stares at the food. He hadn't eaten for days at this point and ever since he left his castle three weeks ago he hadn't been eating anywhere near to enough. He reaches for the bag as he thinks. He just needs a little bit of food. just enough magic and he can teleport himself to an another universe. maybe he can get enough energy before whatever drug starts to work?

He gets the bag over to him and feels his resolve weaken quickly. mulitple sandwiches are in there. Nightmare grabs the one that Grillby had taste tested and takes a bite.

It tastes so good and his magic purrs as it finally gets some energy back after these last three weeks. the food demands his attention and nothing else matters right now. He takes bite after bite as his stomach fills up.

by the time half of it is gone he feels overfull and Nightmare knows he ate way too much. He feels so much better even if he is still cold and wet from the snow.

Grillby frowns at him "Is that all you will eat? You sure you don't want to eat more?"

Panic and suspicion returns nad Nightmare frowns at Grillby again. He waits a moment before nodding and pushing the bag of food back. including the half finished sandwich.

Grillby frowns and shakes his head "It is okay. Keep it for when you get hungry again... were are your... parent? parents?"

Nightmare glares "does it matter?"

Grillby smiles again and Nightmare doesn't feel any less suspicious of the other. Girllby nods "Well, yeah. I wanted to return you to them." and he waits.

Nightmare stares at him and feels spiteful "She died. She was murdered a long time ago. I don't have any family." not anymore. Not after his mother died. Not after he ruined everything and pushed Dream away from him. Not after the gang left and made it clear they didn't actually care.

Grillby just stares at him "You are alone?"

Ngihtmare shrugs "better like that..." no one can hurt him when he is alone. Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Maybe he was meant to be alone. Maybe that is for the better. No one wanted to be near him anyway. He should have seen that for the sign it was.

Grillby reaches a hand out "I am sure we can find some people to take care of you... I have a friend who is also a skeleton and-"

Nightmare shakes his skull and pusehs back "No."

Grillby raises both of his hands in surrender "That is okay... Then how about we go to my place again? There are rooms that you can use and-"

Nightmare glares at him "I am not going with you to a secondary location."

Grillby blinks before noddng "okay. that is okay. where do you want to go?"

Nightmare keeps glaring "I can get there myself."

Grillby looks deeply unhappy. Hah! Good! Nightmare has no doubt that the other was trying to lure him somewhere. But Nightmare isn't an idiot. He isn't just going to trust the other just because he was giving a bit of food.

Grillby sighs and nods "Okay... I need to go back. but if you need help just come by okay?" he smiles "I never caught your name. I am grillby."

Nightmare just looks at the other and raises a brow "That is because i didn't throw it." it just came out without a doubt. He had heard too many puns from the others when they all sitll lived together. He misses them.

Grillby blinks but chuckles "okay. take it easy okay? Get somewhere dry and warm and please just take the food and eat when you need it." he rises to his feet and leaves the alleyway. He pauses near the end for a moment "If you change your mind. You are welcome at Grillby's. We will figure out a safe spot for you okay?" and he leaves after a moment.

Nightmare waits for a bit more. long enough that he only hears the wind after a while and he is shaking in cold again. That is when he removes himself from his, very bad, hiding place and quickly goes towards the spot he had left most of his things. Taking the food with him.

He gets there and feels himelf relax a little bit.

But there is no time to let his guard down just yet. He needs to decide if he wants to risk sleeping here and being found now that people know he is here. Or move on to a new universe.

The new universe would mean a lot of time spend on finding a fitting place to stay again.

Ngihtmare sighs but quickly packs his things. better to be safe. he needs to go now he has the energy nad before this whole situation backfires on him. He is quickly packed and after making sure he got all his things and left zero marks of his stay he opens a portal.

It is so much harder than it used to be. He can also no longer make the long jumps to whatever universe he wants and can only go to the neighbouring universes.

a small and shaky portal of dark mist opens and Nightmare steps through.

Time for the next spot. maybe this one will work better.

------------

First Drabble. Prev Drabble. Next Drabble.

[infamous-if]

Oh, damn. No 25 with MC trying to protect/take care of Seven in a dangerous situation sounds nice.

Hope you feel better soon, Amy! Take care!

Thank you! <3 Dangerous situation, you say?

Double whammy (the amount of seven asks...)

CW: blood

This is all your fault.

You shouldn't have said anything. You shouldn't have fought with the person at the bar. You should've left it alone.

You should've known that Seven wouldn't let it go. Even when they hate you.

You should've known Seven. Has it been that long that you forgot who they were? Once, they were as familiar to you as the very lines on your palm.

"Seven, please."

You're holding onto them as you two stumble out of the bar, moving like two drunkards though both of you are terribly sober. The warm sensation of Seven's blood on your shirt sends dull fear over you. You're spiraling. Breaking. You don't know what to do.

Seven lets you guide them outside, your arms wrapped closely around them as they keep a hand under their nose which spews blood like an open faucet. It sends another round of fear down your spine, but it's not their nose that has you so breathless you're dizzy.

Their stomach.

In the heat of the moment, the person Seven was fighting threw them on the table littered with glass cups and broken bottles. Seven claims to be fine, but the way blood makes an angry stain on the green fabric of their shirt and Seven limps like their body is failing them, you know they're anything but.

Seven loses their footing, tripping on the last step and making both you and them fumble to the wet, concrete ground.

Your body shakes when the cool water of the alleyway seeps into your jeans. Seven coughs, rolls on their back, and lets out a sigh.

Blood is smeared across their face, their eyes are hazy, the blooming flower of blood grows larger across their stomach.

Your hands flail in front of you when you get on your knees, fingers shaking, lips shuttering. You feel the burning sting of tears. "Seven, what do I do? My phone is dead. We need to call an ambulance."

Seven groans. Coughs. Their hair turns damp when it sinks into a puddle by their face. "Stop...yelling."

"How can I stop?!" you cry. "I need to see it-" You begin to lift up their shirt but Seven stops you.

"No."

Anger replaces your previous fear. "Seven-"

"I don't want you to."

That hurts. Hurts more than it should in this moment. Seven is hurt, bleeding, and even now they don't want you to touch them, to care for them. Has everything been for nothing? Have all the years you two spent together meant nothing?

"You fucking asshole."

"What?" They burst up and groan, hissing and laying back down.

"I need to help you." The fear returns anew when Seven's eyes glide towards you slowly, their lips parted. Not from pain, but from slight surprise. "Please. I know you hate me. I know you have no reason to trust me. But please... I'm asking you to anyway." You bite your lip to hide the way it shakes. "Please let me help you."

It takes them a moment. They stare at you so long you feel like you're being judged. Then, in a move that shocks you even now, Seven nods and looks away.

"Go ahead."

You clear your throat, slowly peeling the shirt that sticks to the blood on their skin. Seven winces, and you let out a small sound when you catch the piece of glass lodged to their rib.

"Not bad," you try, wincing, "just a tiny piece. You'll be fine."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

You look at them, ready to shoot them a glare, when you see a small, amused smirk on their face.

"Shut up," you mumble, turning back to their wound.

As you inspect more of their skin, slick with blood, you catch their stomach heave when a small laugh leaves them. You look at Seven, quirking a brow. "You called me an asshole." They look at you. The blood still smeared all across their lower face, they look at you and laugh. "I'm about to die and you call me an asshole."

"You're not about to die," you say strongly and then quieter: "and you are."

Seven hums. "Maybe. Maybe you just bring it out of me."

"That's not helping," you mumble.

You move to lift their shirt higher when you feel a wet hand on your wrist. Seven's blood leaks from their fingers to your skin, but you hardly notice it. Not when they're looking at you with a face so soft it disarms your every defense. "I don't hate you."

Your heart rate quickens. "...You don't?"

They shake their head slowly, stifling a small grown with the movement. "How could I?" they mumble, but don't elaborate.

A sigh leaves them and they glide their gaze to the sky. The sound of an ambulance rings in the distance; the bartender must've called the cops.

"I don't hate you either," you say.

Seven says nothing, but their face twists into a satisfied smile, their eyes closing.

I never did.

and then seven dies. JUST KIDDING

[slippinmickeys]

L’appel du Vide

Nude bra and panty set, rough terry robe, her trotters shoved hastily into stiff penny loafers with the leather heel folded down, probably on the wrong feet. Adrenaline still thrumming, the bites on her back starting to itch. And he’s standing there lit by candle flame, his eyes like bryophyte on oak bark. 

What if she lets him kiss her? It’s the split second thought of jumping off the cliff, of turning into traffic—l'appel du vide—she could just lean forward and sweep her tongue across the pillow of those lips. He’d have her on her back in thirty seconds, those long sweeping fingers three knuckles deep, she knows this intrinsically, can smell it on him like he could smell the crazy off Monty Props. 

Gross misconduct, a career in tatters, but the urge is so compelling she has to squeeze her fingernails into her palm until the pain distracts her. 

“Scully?” he says, bending his knees to get a look at her eyes. His face is open, gentle. He’d be a generous lover, irritatingly eager to please. Probably masochistic. 

“Sorry,” she says, stepping away slightly, averting her gaze from his. She spots the Georgetown hat he wore on his run, a powdery white ring of dried sweat an inch up the canvas like a high water mark.

“Listen, I’d be freaked out too,” he says, and she’s finding his compassion off-putting. She doesn’t want him to think she can’t handle this. She remembers the few cadets at Quantico that tried to help her over the obstacle course wall. It rankles.

“Where’d you get the candle?” she asks, looking for a distraction. A Pottery Barn pillar in a roadside flophouse—where did he get the damn thing?

“Over there,” he gestures vaguely to an end table. “Scully, are you okay?” 

He rests a heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezes. 

One more mental flash of her sitting astride him, pinning him to the bed with her eyes. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, finally looking up. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

She lets him tell her about his sister. Follows him into the void.