#editing this chapter was hell

[fiepige]

Hey guys, remember that Venom!Hobie fic I'm working on?

Well, Chapter 6 is finally up!!!

Summary:

“HOLY SH-” Miles and Gwen simultaneously turned to cover Pav’s mouth so as to not alert the creature in the middle of the carnage below them. The creature either didn’t hear him or it was too preoccupied with whatever it was doing. To his regret Miles soon realized what that was, as another wet snapping noise broke the silence once more. The creature was crouched down on all fours over what Miles assumed was the body of an officer, though it was so mutilated that it was hard to tell for sure. Its head was buried into the chest of the body beneath it, another wet snapping noise emerging as it pulled out a couple of ribs between its bloodied jaws... Or The Spider-Gang goes looking for Hobie. They don’t like what they find.

[iluliluu]

me, sitting in front of my laptop and shaking violently

i wanna write i don't wanna write but i wanna write but i really don't wanna

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

 “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” 

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive. 

This moment is no different. 

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head. 

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years. 

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained. 

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way. 

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future. 

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now. 

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they? 

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.” 

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.  

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair. 

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home. 

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads. 

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared. 

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment. 

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance. 

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain. 

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him. 

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his. 

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere. 

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter. 

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight. 

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone. 

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it. 

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be. 

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.” 

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it. 

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile. 

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight. 

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize. 

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised. 

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then. 

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down. 

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear. 

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it. 

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.” 

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you. 

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this. 

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away. 

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off. 

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we? 

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption. 

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.” 

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened. 

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it. 

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours. 

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on. 

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man. 

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses. 

Always have, always will. 

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined. 

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into. 

You’d forgotten just how well you know him. 

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind. 

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens. 

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him. 

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core. 

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response. 

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.” 

“Please what, Sugar?” 

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-” 

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command. 

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention. 

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now. 

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day. 

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned. 

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water. 

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would. 

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer. 

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago. 

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up. 

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night. 

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.” 

You mean more than just the sex. 

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does. 

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again. 

You don’t know when the tears started. 

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet. 

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.” 

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use. 

“When I get back, all I care about is you.” 

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains. 

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you. 

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable. 

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die. 

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - The Council

Hey @spotaus !! Get in here :D We going!

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Also. Did you guys know? We are nearing the end? wild right? We are very close... And then the drabble series is over.

And then it is a matter of time before i take the time to edit everything and make it into an actual series to upload to my AO3.

But that is for later.

For now?

Story time.

*---------------------*

Dream checks the room again. He had been setting things up for this meeting and it is all perfect!

He hears a groan behind him as Red huffs “Dude is more charged than normal.”

Core mutters much softer “I think he is fine? I don’t know why he is… like this.”

Red snorts “He didn’t tell you?”

Core is silent for a bit before speaking even softer “No… he doesn’t really… talk to me anymore.”

Red laughs and says something but Dream can’t quite hear what he says to the child.

Not that it matters. Today is going to be the day!

They just had one more meeting planned!

Ink rushes to his side “Everything is ready!” he grins as he looks around “So… is Blue here yet?”

Dream raises a brow at him “No he is helping some of others get here. Get the news for this meeting around even more…” Dream shoots Ink a look as Ink looks a bit too casual for his taste. Dream may need to start and try wingmanning again but that is for later. After he had time to talk with Ink about this. But most importantly! After this meeting!

This… This is too important.

Dream needs them to be nice to him. Dream promised him he would make sure to do what he can to make sure this went well.

Dream honestly doesn’t even care of the others are comfortable. They just need to be nice to Nightmare. After everything.

He needs it.

So he needs this to be perfect.

He hums as he checks the snacks and the chairs. Enough for everyone. Okay!

Dream smiles and looks around. There are still a few guests missing before he can message the others that everything is ready-

A portal opens and Blue walks out with a happy wave. Classic joins him with a yawn “Why am I here again?”

Blue grins “It is a very important meeting!”

Classic shoots him a glance “I thought I already said I had no interest in like… god decisions and stuff?”

Blue laughs and grins cheeky “oh don’t worry. This is just an announcement! But it is important everyone learns!” and Blue leads him to one of the open chairs. Classic and Red greet each other and talk a bit about hanging out soon.

Dream nods and glances around. Error is already in his spot and seems to make sure people aren’t sitting in some of the seats. All according to plan.

More people show up and everyone gets comfortable. It takes a while longer but then Reaper also shows up with the true hermit out of all of them. Geno looks unamused as he unhappily sits in his own seat. He however does do a two fingered salute towards Error who does one back. Fresh sits down near the other and Geno just shoots him an annoyed look.

Dream does a quick headcount before sending Dust the message before he gets up and smiles “Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for showing up today. I know it was a short notice and appreciate everyone making time.”

Red yawns as he looks bored “Not like much changes for most of us. Timeloops.”

Razz glares at him “Stop being rude!” he huffs and looks expecting at Dream.

Dream smiles as he puts his hands behind him “I have great news! My brother has been found and is well! He and his gang are on their way to speak to all of you.”

Chaos.

And Dream just keeps smiling. He can see Blue snicker and Classic shoot him curious looks. Geno however just looks expecting at Reaper and Reaper grins back at him.

Dream holds up a hand and smiles “I understand some of you are nervous. For this I would like everyone to settle down and listen. Before anything else… I need to tell you a story. One that is from long ago. I need you to remember. Nightmare had been helping the multiverse. We both had duties. Ones we never choice and just tried our best to follow.”

Now… His part.

Dream takes a deep breath as he starts speaking “A long time ago… There was a tree and a guardian. The tree was not just any tree. The tree bore very special fruit. The fruit of legends were told to hold the emotions and magic of the multiverse. The tree had a loyal guardian. Her name had been Nim. She stood guard by the tree every day of her existence. Guarding it as the tree filtered in and out emotions.”

“As time went by. She grew lonely and wished to not be alone. She pulled her magic and used a tiny bit of magic of the tree. With effort she created a small tree spirit, then the tree spirit split of part of itself. Which formed a second spirit. Nim held both beings of magic and emotions and named them. The eldest she named Dream. The younger she named Nightmare.”

Dream had decided against sharing the obvious favouritism of Nim. Not when it would be obvious in subtext. Speaking too directly may just cause them to search for even more hidden meanings. This way they will make their own conclusions.

“She tried to make forms for them but nothing seemed to work. The energies of the two spirits too strong to be contained in any simple form. So she let them exist as they were for now. “

“Then one day… a human came to the tree. Making demands for a fruit to gain its powers. After  along drawn out fight Nim managed to slay the human, but had been mortally wounded herself.”

Dream frowns as he continues the story “In her last moments. She searched the multiverse. And found a form which would fit well enough. A body of a lot of positivity. Strong of will and wants. Motivated. She gave the body to both of us before becoming one with the tree.” as Dream tells the story he can see a few of them frown. Connecting the dots there. The fact that both of them had been giving positive bodies. Bodies that clearly only would fit one of the twin.

Dream takes a deep breath as he continues “The two of us. Were now the new guardians. We would stay with the tree and keep watch. We had a connection to the emotions of the tree and could still feel Nim within.” A moment of silence and then he says the next part “We had been watching and learning for four years after all.”

Clearer frowns. Some clear distress.

Dream continues “And for a while. It was fine. We watched the tree. The tree sheltered us and we slept between the roots. Then one day…” his hands form fists “People settled near the tree. They made a town. A village.”

The hardest part.

“At first they seemed interested and understanding. Being willing to let our tree be and respectful. But… as I spend day after day in the village. helping them as I could. I did not realise that they had a wrong idea of how we were. Who we were. They saw me as the one responsible for the emotions of positivity. They saw Nightmare as the being responsible for negativity.” He makes sure to stare them down. Make them see how similar they had all been to that. How he himself had been similar to those creatures. It is hard to talk about the trauma. To put it into words. But it needs to happen. And he is not going to make them all read the book.

“Over time. They held me responsible for all things positive. Expecting me to do everything. Expecting me to work day after day. Moving things. Planting things. Cleaning things. Because I was supposed to be positivity. I was supposed to help them.” he stares Core down “I was supposed to do just whatever they wanted because that made them happy.” They flinch. Good.

He stares back at the others “My brother? They held him responsible for everything negative. If someone got sick. If the harvest wasn’t good. If someone got a failing grade… if someone died.” He glares “He was never responsible for it. But no one would believe him. And I was unaware.”

He looks to the side for a moment “Then one day. As I was drugged to make sure I slept. They attacked the tree. The very tree my brother was still defending. They ended up mortally wounding him. and in a moment of desperation. He ate an apple.” One second before “We were six.”

Dream sighs as he continues “The apple gave Nightmare powers he was never supposed to have. And he defeated those threatening the tree. I found him after. Still unaware and unknowing. Not having any of the information. I just could not understand why my brother would harm those nice people in the village.” he grins “After all. Why would I see people who make a child work see as evil? If our very mother also decided to give us jobs much larger than we should have ever had?”

He sighs “Our mother was gone. Most of the villagers dead. Nightmare having at this point eaten most of the apples. One remained. I picked it up.” he places a hand on his sternum “My being absorbed it.” He only has one apple. “And with it… that was it. The tree and apples were gone.”

He continues on. Now a lot calmer “Most of what happened after is generally known. I got turned into stone and years went by. My brother, having gotten the powers of a god, took up his role and job as guardian of stability seriously. As that is what the tree had been about. The tree was about keeping balance. And Nightmare, immediately figured out he would have to keep balance now. And he did. He travelled the universe to manually balance everything instead of the apples just doing the work passively.”

And he lets the story end.

Geno frowns at him “And when you broke out. You misunderstood. You didn’t have all the facts yourself and made the very same assumptions those people made in the past. And tried to fix it. only to unbalance things further.”

Dream nods “correct.”

Classic frowns at him as well “So… why share now.”

Dream grins a tiny bit “Because there is one last very important detail that is different between us. My brother, transformed thanks to the apples into who he was and was known as. He gained the powers and form he needed to do his work as god of balance. I myself. First broke out of stone and spend time in our old AU to grow into who I am today before I joined my twin in the multiverse.”

It is Fresh who figures it out first. His glasses change to ‘wait?!’ as he shoots upright “Yo dog you mean?” the others seem to connect the dots themselves.

Dream grins and looks at the door “They are up to date.”

And the door opens.

Killer walks in with a large grin. His arms holding a very tiny skeleton. Nightmare seems to be wearing an oversized hoody. Seems like the gang decided to go for emotional manipulation after all. Oh well. That is their choice.

Silence as Killer walks over to the table and pulls a chair out. Cross joins his side and puts down a bit of a booster seat. Nightmare pulls a face and looks unhappy. Killer chuckles and grins at him “Sorry tiny boss. It is either the booster or lap.” Nightmare stares at the chair and sighs but nods.

Killer puts him in his seat and Nightmare is still clearly a bit too short for the table but it works. Killer sits next to him and Cross joins Killer’s other side. Dust sits on Nightmare’s other side and checks him. Nightmare pulls a face again but Dust just makes sure that Nightmare is comfortable.

Dream smiles brightly as the others all stare “Nightmare. Never grew past the age of six. The age he had been mortally wounded. Meaning. That when the apples disappeared. He returned to that age.”

Dream honestly thinks this is going very well.

--

The meeting eventually got started and Dust only watches bored. Everyone had asked the normal questions and Dream had kept the conversation going. Reinforcing that yes. The gang are now Nightmare’s guardians and will remain his guardians. Nightmare had picked a new domain for his godhood and what it had included.

Meanwhile Dust just kept busy with Nightmare. Nightmare had very quickly looked bored and muttered that he was happy they never wasted their time with this stupid meeting. Dust had snorted because he could see that some of the others had visibly melted at Nightmare’s soft spoken voice.

Lavander specifically had seemed ready to launch himself across the table. Especially as Killer had just smirked at him and nodded as if he confirmed something.

Dust however just checks Nightmare as Nightmare works on some of his assignments. Nightmare has a tiny adorable thinking frown on his face and he is slowly but surely starting to stick his tongue slightly out in concentration.

Honestly some of the noises and coos are a bit much in Dust’s opinion but he won’t mention it. Nightmare hadn’t noticed and still seemed comfortable and that is what mattered.

Dream smiles brightly “and I believe that concludes the meeting. Any other notes?”

Lavander grins widely and his hand shoots up. waiting.

Dream blinks but smiles “Yes Lavender?”

Lavander grins “Now that this is in the open I can share a bit of knowledge I have had for a while.” One of the others mutters about the whore not knowing anything and Lavander grins wider “A while ago. Killer came by my universe.”

Killer blinks and looks shocked while Dust grins. Oh. This whole thing. Nightmare also looks up a bit more curious. Knowing where this is going.

Lavander continues “Something about bringing a special thank you for someone in my universe. After taking care of a child for a bit before his parents were able to get him back.”

The shocked silence amuses Dust as people shoots Nightmare, Killer and Lavander looks.

Lavander looks smug “I assume. That as god of restoration.” He looks at Nightmare “did… did you make it? the flower?”

Nightmare nods and shrugs as he plays with his pencil with tiny bat motive “Your Grillby was nice and helped me with getting me food. I figured it would be a good payment.” He huffs and looks determined “I don’t do debts.”

Dust thinks someone holds a hand on their sternum and Dust gets it. Nightmare is cute.

Lavander smiles brightly “Thank you. It worked perfectly.”

Blue looks at him curiously “What did it do?”

Lavander grins and looks happy “My universe is no longer in heat. The heat cycles are back to normal and we are rebuilding most things as we speak.” And he grins smugly.

Shocked silence as Outer jumps up “But I thought it was like… part of your AU’s code?” he shoots them a look.

Nightmare shakes his skull and speaks softly “Not exactly. The AU says it had to happen. But the way that actually effected them as chemically and stuff. So. It was able to be fixed because it was already unnatural.” He shrugs and mutters softer “Just needed a cure.”

Killer grins as he nuzzles Nightmare before looking at the other with a dangerous glint in his sockets “Of course Nighty. No worries.”

Dust can see Dream call back the attention to him as he continues for a bit about how they are both still settling in their domains and that they are both still learning. That they aren’t responsible for it but just support the very concept. That everyone still has the responsibility to move on or progress or recover themselves.

Dust watches the rest of the meeting and end go and they all stretch and get up. A few people look at them curiously but only Lavander actually walks over.

Lavander and Killer make some small talk before Lavander looks at Nightmare and coos “man. And here I thought I was jealous of him before. But now? It is unfair that Grillby got to meet you and I didn’t.”

Nightmare shrugs as he leans further against Cross “Tried to not be noticed.”

Lavander nods “Fair enough. Probably stressful enough to suddenly lose power. Much less try to navigate multiverse politics. Either way… Thank you. For fixing things. I know it was a thank you but still. Thank you so much.” He smiles

Nightmare blinks and looks to the side before muttering it was just a thank you and not to worry about it. Lavander laughs softly but nods as he walks away with a wave. Off to talk to some of the others.

Dream ends up walking up to them and asking if he and Nightmare can relax for a bit. After a few looks Cross hands Nightmare over to Dream. Who hugs his brother and takes him outside to relax under one of the many trees to just enjoy the environment and sights.

Dust will remain near of course. Just in case.

But Dream and Nightmare eventually both fall asleep. Dream holding Nightmare close and Dsut knows Nightmare is happy and comfortable.

And well.. That was the goal.

To make sure that Nightmare is safe. So he can be happy and comfortable.

*---------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[stormypip7]

can you see me now?

[retracexcviii]

I don't know what to say

EDIT: I already changed the quality of the pages + added the translated Omake

[verdantglow]

Guys. Guys the smalletho brain rot is ramping up again. I spent the last two weeks in a flare from hell & have been listening to my Spotify Wrapped Top 100 almost every day & a solid SIXTY-FOUR of the tracks on there are just my Life Series smalletho playlist & my Retail Purgatory AU smalletho playlist & I have been semi-consciously rotating them in my mind, day after day, & I just. I need to start actually navigating the line between 'want to keep details of RPAU to myself so they are surprising in fic' & 'I want to post every single detail I've decided so far just so I can at least scream them into the tumblr void instead of inside my mind.'

I think I should probably just stick that line along whether or not things are actually part of the plot of the fic or just things that come up, because, honestly, I know so many things about this AU. So many.

Like.

Joel is tumblr famous. He's been on the site for ages & his blog consists of a combination of shitposting, clapbacks, & the most absurdly artistic photos of his excruciatingly well crafted models of mini scenes.

No one online knows who runs the blog & no one IRL knows that Joel has a massive online following & is actually a big name artist in the mini scene modeling sphere. Ren & Martyn actually both follow him & straight up do not know it's him. Like. They don't even know that's a hobby Joel has.

Grain & Jimmy both vaguely know that Joel does some kind of mini making & posts about it online & people seem to give him money for it sometimes??? (He sells most of the models he makes online & also has a semi-lucrative Patreon.) Grian's never cared to dig further into that aspect of Joel's life. Jimmy tried to find Joel's tumblr years ago, but got so overwhelmed trying to figure tumblr out & saw so many things he very much did not understand nor particularly need to know existed that he never tried to find it again.

Scott knows about Joel's tumblr. Joel does not know that Scott knows.

At some point along the timeline of the fic/post-fic, Etho accidentally reveals Joel's secret tumblr life to some of their friends, not realizing it was so much of a secret.

Joel is ranting to Scott & Lizzie about this & Scott is just like, "Oh, was that a secret?"

"YOU KNEW?!"

"Yeah, for a while. Joel, your hands are in every one of your videos."

"But you've never mentioned it!"

"I thought you just didn't like to talk about it."

"...Do you at least follow me?"

"Mmmm, no. I get plenty of your belligerent humor in person, thank you."

Guys. I know the tiers in Joel's Patreon. I know the costs & rewards for all four of them. I have multiple pages written about all the Apple Geniuses & what their alignments as Geniuses are & what having them help you in an appointment is like. I know what stores characters that aren't in the Life Series & might Never Appear in this fic work at. I know what sort of video games Etho & Joel play in this AU. I know the layout of Etho's apartment. I know what's in the medicine cabinet at Etho's apartment.

I need to start sharing some of this or I am legit going to explode.

[riboku]

happy tanabemas @birdmenmanga! — prompt roue's eyes + vocaloid producer nulut

Roue, your right eye is so pretty. It's the color of the sky.

[distant--shadow]

The Witch and the Widow - Chapter 6 - Ostrea Edulis

Imogen admittedly doesn’t have much experience steering a horse from the driver’s box of a carriage.

She had done her best to get some practice in, of course; following the reasonable road to and from Fairfield Farm a handful of times, testing which of the horses wore the harnesses, pulled the weight of the carriage, and paired up together with the most ease.

But it is not second nature for her (more like a third), and she does not sit on the wooden bench comfortably; a gnawing anxiety stirring in her stomach as if she were on a boat and at the whims of the sea.

She had only been on a boat once, and it was for quite the journey.

vicious waters

terribly treacherous, with their habits of reciting rumours to estuaries and rivers that feed into the communities.

If she blinks too slowly she is presented pictures on the backs of her eyelids;

broken wheels, head-on collisions, carriage-carved tracks leading paths to final destinations off of the lip of a cliff.

(Not images of the future gifted by her powers - at least she hopes. These such images are only the boons of an anxious mind.)

A number of times she considers climbing over the wooden enclosure shelving her feet and onto the rear of one of the horses; straddling their unsaddled ribcage between her legs and putting more faith in the feedback of a certain halt instructed from direct contact rather than the separation of who knows how many manufacturers’ hands and the mechanical pull of a lever below her seat to a spring to a break to a wheel.

Certain as her pull on Ceviche’s reins when he attempted to buck the Lady - Ms Laudna - off of himself in fright, as a mummified corpse of a horse surfaced from the lake, disrupting its mirroring of the sky.

How much of Ms Laudna’s attention does she divide between the view from the window and what Imogen assumes of a book in her lap? Does she wish to know the route with an accustomed year-round seasonal familiarity as she does the belt around the lake? Or does she wish to hurry the passing of each signpost? Ask Sorcha to read her home-library-loaned paragraphs, praising the girl’s ability in spite of the jostling of narrow wooden wheels-

“I can read the labelling on the grain bags an’ all, I’m a real asset.”

“Absolutely -I must show you the library sometime, though you certainly are an outdoor being, even if a grass-grazer at that.”

praise-

(she hadn’t left what a thorough job Imogen had done of cleaning and buffing the carriage of its years of collecting cobwebs and dust and bringing it back to its ‘former glory’ unremarked.)

-would she identify the family of trees that gave the wheels their timber? Tip her bonnet to them as they pass in communal cluster, communing through touching roots, bordering one stretch of rolling hills as it sprawls into another?

Would Angharad have gotten sick from the motions of her own carriage ride? Imogen can’t imagine that she would feel too timid to entertain herself as a distraction with the presence of whoever it was escorting her.

Perhaps the plan was for that carriage to be the one that veered off track.

Maybe it will be a coincidence;  a convenience that the Lady leaves her estate for the first time at the very least since Imogen had been under her employ, a coincidence that they would pass an opening ploughed through the hedgerow decorated with timber and axel,

Angharad without her apron on; the blood soaking her dress her own

body limp for the next moon’s deadweight to be lifted over the horse-

 “Imogen!” Ms Laudna calls, fortunately not sounding as though alarming her to the approach of another oncoming carriage.

The road stretches out before them uninterrupted, not a hole in the hedgerow to be seen, so Imogen feels somewhat at ease with her decision to turn and look over her shoulder (not that she would have disobeyed her Lady’s call regardless).

“Yes, m’lady?”

Ms Laudna leans outside of the carriage window, holding her hat to the scalp of her tilted head as the wind whistles past her (not quite the bowing of her skull in acknowledgment to the trees Imogen had pictured).

She has never seen her hair so dishevelled-

She likes how it looks on her.

“I think we should stop for lunch!” Ms Laudna projects around a smile, unthreading errant hairs as they try to weave in between her exposed teeth.

Imogen almost forgets to reply.

They stop at the turn-in for a gate to a large and open field, Ms Laudna - with Sorcha’s assistance -laying out a patchwork blanket anchored in one corner by a ribboned square wicker picnic basket.

Imogen does her best to not address Ms Laudna by her name in front of Sorcha; despite the noticeable lack of meats in the spread of cheeses and home-grown fruits and preserved vegetables and freshly-sliced bread.

Their journey resumes; uninterrupted by carriage tracks veering off into the hedgerow.

[lqfiles]

heyyy nunu my leg got amputated a few days ago, i could use a new ptp chapter to feel better :))

HSJDHDJWWK took me a second to realise this was a score that goal reference lol unfortunately i have STILL not started anything so #sozzz 😅 hope your leg heals tho queen ❤️

[anisaanisa]

You aren't gonna sing the second verse? This seems more fun.

Chainsaw Man | チェンソーマン | by Tatsuki Fujimoto ☆

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday from “The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher”

“I— I tripped,” Bill lies swallowing back the bile in his throat. Whether Stan believes him or not is another story. He squints at him and then at where Bill’s managed to knock over the fire poker stand in his fall. Bill swallows thickly, his pulse heavy in his throat

Hours pass in the time that they stand there before Stan shakes himself off, grunting.

“Barging around here in the middle of the night, you’ll wake everyone up.”

And to Bill’s surprise, Stan holds a hand out. Bill is still shaking as he takes it and stands, brushing himself off.

“Thanks,” he grits out, pointedly not looking at Stan. They hover there for a moment before there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder.

“You usually sleep through the night. You, uh, have a, uh, bad dream?”

Bill can’t help the way he’s staring at Stan like he’s got three heads (that might even be normal than this given everything that Bill has seen in his time outside of this realm).

“What’s it to you?” Bill snaps only for Stan’s nose to wrinkle. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Stan shakes off, letting go of Bill. “But if you’re gonna go running around here causing a ruckus and waking everyone up, then that’s a problem!”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything, I tripped!”

“Well, I—“ Stan cuts himself off, eyes closed and a vein throbbing in his forehead. He forces a breath out through his mouth and Bill feels like he’s standing on eggshells without trying to break them.

“Look,” Stan begins, more gathered. “I’m just trying to— We’re gonna have to be around each other for the summer, until this… this,” and he gestures to Bill, “gets figured out. I don’t know if you usually have nightmares in your normal dorito shaped version of you. They’re pretty normal for humans though.”

The fact that Stan, Stanley Pines, is being nice to him is enough to get Bill to shut up and keep from snapping at him that Bill knows what a nightmare is. Hells, what is happening?

“Just— If you had a nightmare, tea helps, you know?”

Bill realizes after a moment that he’s nodding, not sure what else to do.

“Do you—“ Stan looks like he’s bracing himself. “Do you want— tea?”

He winces and then Bill winces and then they are both pointedly looking away from each other.

“Tea. Tea would be nice,” Bill finally responds in spite of the nausea.

It’s how they end up in the kitchen, Bill sitting at the dining table and staring at said table like he’s trying to see through it. Stan is facing the stove, poking at the kettle and fussing with the knobs. Neither of them speak for the longest time and Bill’s almost convinced he’s going to get to get away with this silence as Stan sets down a steaming mug of tea in front of him.

“Look. This thing with my brother—“

“There’s nothing going on with—!” Bill immediately rushes to cut him off, something almost desperate in the words.

“Dear god, Bill, let me finish!” Stan winces at the way his voice carries, clears his throat, and then continues. “Whatever this thing you have going on with my brother, just… keep it away from the kids, alright?”

Bill blinks rather stupidly at Stan. On the short list of things he expects Stan to say to him, which isn’t a lot considering they decidedly do not talk to each other, giving some kind of permission for this thing that definitely doesn’t exist between him and Ford is not it.

“…you’re okay with it?”

Stan scoffs.

“Not even a little. If it were up to me, I’d keep you a billion miles away from my whole family. But,” and he sighs, “Ford’s a… stubborn asshole. And I’ve never seen him so much as look at another human being, let alone have whatever happened a few nights ago happen. And it’s a little less distressing that you’re not, you know.” He makes a face.

“A triangle?” Bill offers up.

“Yeah. That.” Stan mutters something about “damn nerd loving geometry” before continuing. “He’s never shown interest in people except for you. I’d tell him to get taste, but apparently he’s not interested in that and if I try and tell him off, he’s just going to double down.”

“First of all, I am an incredible catch and literally anyone would be lucky to be into me,” Bill defends without an ounce of irony. “So take that into consideration.”

When he looks up from the table, Stan is just staring at him.

“Yeah, uh, I’ve got nothing constructive to say there considering the fact that you tried to kill me, my family, and destroy the entire world.”

Bill can only kind of shrug in response, what can he honestly say to that?

“I guess you’re trying to make amends for that or something, right? Soos said something about a lizard—“

“Axolotl.”

“Yeah, that. And I guess you’re… cleaning the shack to do that?”

“Eh, close enough.” Bill honestly can’t say that he has a better answer than that. Something, something, learning human compassion, something, something community service.

“How’s that going?”

Bill taps his nails on the table and shrugs his shoulders after a second. Honestly, it’s not working, he tells himself. They’re all insufferable and he hates them all and he looks forward to when he’ll have them all under his subjugation. That’s the plan, after all.

“Fine enough. I guess,” he says instead. “I guess I’m cleaning my soul by wiping counters down.”

“Eh, maybe one day when you learn how to not miss spots, they’ll let you go home.”

Bill glares at Stan and Stan only laughs in response.

“The kids like you, which is weird after, well, you know.”

“Everything?”

Stan grimaces. “Yeah. Everything.”

They lapse into quiet again, Bill drinking his tea and Stan staring out the window at the darkened forest.

“It’s only because of them and Ford that I’m playing nice. After everything in the mindscape, I can’t say that I didn’t like the feeling of punching you in the face.”

Bill can’t help but rub at his face a little, mind flashing with the pain that’d come from the memory.

“We really thought you’d be gone after that. Gave a lot up to get rid of you.”

“For what it’s worth, so did I.”

When he’d called out to the Axolotl, he hadn’t expected an answer. To wake up in the void, in front of the great salamander of judgment had been… shocking. Relieving, but shocking.

“I’ll try not to be in your hair long.”

Stan makes a noncommittal noise.

“Stay for a bit. I guess if you’re bothering us, you’re not planning world domination.”

Bill tries to swallow past the bile that rises up in his throat again, not sure why that’s bothering him so.

“Besides, I ain’t seen Ford like this, again, ever. Maybe you’re good for him. Or maybe you’ll help it get out of his system.”

Bill snorts.

“Maybe don’t interrupt us next time.”

“Maybe don’t try to give my brother a handy in the bathroom everyone uses next time.”

And in spite of himself, Bill smiles, even laughs and he’s surprised when Stan laughs with him.

AN: If you liked that and you’re like “what’s going on? Why is Bill on the floor? What happened between him and Ford?” Well, do I have a treat for you! This is from my ongoing project, The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher! It’s a nice Billford fic taking place in the handyman au universe where Bill gets turned into a human and then figures out that humans have things called feelings and guilt. I’ve got one chapter posted, the second one is written and to be edited, and the third one is in progress! It’s my first undertaking of a multi-chapter fic since high school and so I’m very excited to share it.

If you’d like to check it out, link is below. I’ve also got fics for a bunch of different fandoms on there (including a one-shot smut fic including Bill and Ford ;)) from various different fandoms across the last several years. Please check me out! Otherwise, thanks for reading! <3

[thegreatyin]

im gonna call it jerry :)

[soupbtch]

ummm. my fic is done.

[igbylicious]

I AM BACK ON MY BULLSHIT; i’m splitting whichever way chapter 9 into two parts bc the non-smut is 7k long he l p

this means i’ll post an update tomorrow, yay!

this also means there won’t be any smut in there, sorry!!! つ__⊂

it’s very relationship-focused, so i hope the ppl who were waiting for that will enjoy it! ♡ (i am so so SO nervous to post ohgodohgod) and for the ppl who are just here for the smut; i hope you can be patient for a lil longer bc i’m really excited abt the spice that’s coming up hehe („• ֊ •„)

[syn4k]

🏳️‍🌈👍