#i was inspired to say the least

[cdreambur]

dreambur spiderman au but like spider-verse version where they're both spiderman.

they meet when wilbur stumbles into dream's dimension after one of tommy's many experiments got out of control.

he lands right in the middle of a fight between dream and his universe's green goblin, and doesn't even think twice before jumping in to help, glad that he at least has his backpack, which also contains his suit, with him.

he doesn't expect to be pressed against a wall as soon as the fight ends, hands pinned beside his head by webs that feel familiar and foreign at the same time.

the other spiderman hovers over him, the fact that he's a little shorter evened out by how much broader he is than wilbur.

"who the fuck are you?" he asks, voice demanding.

wilbur breathes out a deep sigh, closes his eyes, lets his head fall back, and gets ready to explain tommy's theory about the multiverse.

when he's done, the other steps closer, tugging the webs away from wilbur's wrists.

"follow me." he tells him before slinging himself on top of the neighbouring skyscraper.

wilbur does.

their destination is an inconspicuous apartment building, wilbur climbing through an open window on the top floor behind the other spiderman.

it's a simple but cozy room, papers scattered over a table next to a computer setup and led lights illuminating the space.

if wilbur were to guess, he would say it belongs to someone his age, something that is proven right when the other pulls off his mask.

blond hair and soft green eyes, freckles and the dark shadow of a beard, a sharp nose. wilbur's gaze wanders over the other's features before landing on his outstretched hand.

"i'm dream."

wilbur takes it, sliding off his own mask.

"wilbur."

after that, they spend the night theorizing. how wilbur got here, how the multiverse works, how to get him back to his dimension.

in the end, they fall asleep when the first rays of the sun reach the window, dream sitting in the corner of his bed, wilbur slumped against his shoulder.

sleep seems to help in their search for answers, because when they wake up, dream suggests finding his universe's tommy.

"if he's the one who sent you here, maybe the one here can get you back to where you came from."

it's the best idea they have, and so, they start looking.

progress is slow, despite the help of the internet. dream has to work, and even though wilbur accompanies him now, patrols still take up most of their nights.

but despite everything, they find time to talk.

it starts with wilbur asking about dream's job one afternoon while they're hunched over dream's laptop, scouring instagram.

soon, they're sharing bits and pieces of their lives in between staring at screens and fighting in dark alleys.

dream enjoys speaking about his work as a programmer and about his friends, always remembering another fun anecdote that leaves the two of them giggling more often than not.

wilbur tells him about how in his universe, he's a rising musician, and about the cat he wants to adopt, and about the science obsessed best friend who feels more like a brother to him.

they find similarities in their lives, like how they're both struggling to balance being a hero and being a regular person.

like how they both started their journey as spiderman after they lost someone.

for wilbur, it was his friend niki.

for dream, his cousin tubbo.

it's easier to open up to someone who knows what you go through.

and soon, dream's stomach starts to flutter every time wilbur smiles at him.

soon, wilbur's heart starts to skip a beat every time dream touches him.

it's the only thing they don't talk about.

their research takes almost a month, but on a rainy friday morning, they find him.

his hair is a little shorter and his eyes are a little darker and his last name is a different one.

but wilbur has no doubts. the face, the mischievous smile, it all belongs to tommy.

the photo is part of an article in a smaller british newspaper, talking about how a group from the local high school is going to present their work at a student science exhibition in new york.

the story is a week old, the mentioned date of the exhibition telling wilbur and dream that they have three days to decide how to approach the boy.

the night before the event, they put on their suits.

through some research (aka dream's hacking), they found the hotel and room tommy's staying in.

it's equally easy to sneak in and wake the teen.

his eyes go wide when they land on the two of them, and the grin on his face when dream explains that they need his help reminds wilbur so much of his tommy that wilbur's heart tightens painfully for a moment.

they bring tommy up to the roof of the hotel to explain the situation, and his face practically lights up as soon as wilbur starts talking.

he asks about a million questions after, wilbur trying to answer them as good as he can with what he remembers from his tommy's rambles.

it seems to be enough, because at the end of it, the boy is smirking at them.

"i think i know what to do."

he guides them to the place the exhibition is happening at tomorrow, a grand complex connected to the company building of the firm that is sponsoring it.

they find a way to a lab where tommy starts collecting things the moment he steps inside.

dream and wilbur stay out of his way, leaving the teen to his work.

they talk. about what wilbur's gonna do when he gets back. which excuse he's going to use when someone asks about his disappearance.

they're so into their conversation and banter that it feels like no time has passed when tommy turns to them.

"done." is all he says, pressing a button placed next to him.

a portal flicks to life on his right, black with colorful lines sparking at the edges.

"it's only going to work once. at least for now." tommy tells them, his eyes fixed on wilbur. they share a smile before tommy steps back.

for the last time, wilbur looks at dream.

neither of them knows what to say, so in the end, they don't speak at all.

just like their first meeting, wilbur finds himself with his back against a wall, wrists pinned beside his head.

but it's dream's hands and lips and body keeping him in place this time.

the kiss is deep, desperate, filled with all the words they couldn't say and probably never will.

for a moment, it's enough.

then, dream lets go. lets wilbur go.

and when he steps through the portal, both of their lips still taste like each other.

it's all wilbur can think about when he lands right where it started. back in tommy's makeshift lab, his friend staring at him. back where he belongs.

but it feels like a part of his home is missing.

across the dimensions, dream is experiencing the exact same kind of pain.

[jojaxcola]

"no one told me back then that i was in the glory days."

[ jojamart mockumentary #14 ]

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[14muffinz]

Kon: If I was gay, it'd be for Tim or Bart. Tim: If I was gay, it'd be for Bart or Kon. Bart: If I was gay, it'd be for Kon or Tim. Cassie: OH MY FUCKING GOD I HATE YOU ALL

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[soaring-trash]

[cookieshapedrat]

She deserves the universe…

[esprei]

wanted to do a little designing for pop star volo's hoodie! (may do a more fully realized reference later on :D i really just wanted to use this to figure out color and the giratina, give it a little more from the first drawing of it i did)

[tagerrkix]

[ingoodjesst]

have you put the pieces together yet, detective

[turtledotjpeg]

girls who go 🧍

[onesidedradiostatic]

some of the tags on my edit are making me think:

do you think random sinners who watched everything in stayed gone and never met alastor in person have like fan interpretations of how he looks like based on this one shitty drawing and his voice.

some draw him with a full body of fur. some draw him with a nose, some draw him without a nose. they come up with their own colour palettes too and they all look very different. there are some popular, agreed on interpretations of him too that are commonly drawn

some have interpreted the monocle to be a goofy mismatched eye so there are a lot of people who draw him like that too with one big eye and one small eye

vox has seen all of them and lost his mind about them because they're so WRONG AND INACCURATE (okay maybe he laughed at some of them, but how the hell is he going to enjoy sexy alastor art if they all draw him wrongly? and val doesn't care enough to draw him often) and he wonders if he should have just used the actual picture he had of him for his news broadcast instead so he wouldn't have to be subjected to these horrendously inaccurate interpretations of him. this is why he sent a proper reference when he commissioned luci--

[jade-len]

i think it'd be funny if someone transmigrated as xin mo. the goddamn evil sword. instead of taking it seriously, they just really fucked around with bingge. and, somehow, ended up having the opposite effect of what it's supposedly rumored to do.

picture this: bingge, on the quest for revenge and power, comes across the almighty xin mo. this demonic sword killed everyone that dared to even try wielding it. and, the few who were lucky enough to have it by their side, eventually succumbed to the swords' will.

it is said that the sword is unlike any other, that it etches into your head and eats away your brain, until eventually it consumes you whole. it whispers, speaking in lust, greed, and hatred. it slowly beckons the wielder into giving in to the worst part of themselves and feeds off of pure sin. but to him, it is no matter; luo bingge will surely tame it.

and then he gets to the sword.

demonic qi practically oozes from xin mo. the aura surrounding it makes every part of luo bingge scream, "run; get away, away from that monster." his gut prods at him, begging bingge that this is probably a really bad idea. it's a little terrifying, how even luo bingge, the determined, vengeful demon, is now getting second thoughts about wielding xin mo from just being in its presence alone.

but luo bingge is too, a monster. so he ignores the screams of plea; pushing every thought of doubt in the back of his head, and tightly grips onto the handle. the world around him seems to spin and shake, tumble and crack, from the amount of force bingge needs to use in order to pull the sword of sin out of its place.

when bingge finally has it perfectly fit into the palms of his calloused hands, he hears whispering. he knows that the sword has accepted him as its new host.

the sword's language crawls up to him, as if it were feeling around his body and mind. checking every nook and cranny for it to settle into bingge's form, truly becoming one with the embodiment of sin. the words flow through his brain like a tragically broken guqin, a melody that holds him in a frighteningly familiar trance - all while simultaneously eating away at his brain in the worst ways possible, akin to a child and their favorite snack. it seems to beckon something, but even with luo bingge's impressive hearing, he cannot make out any words from the tone-deaf musical notes xin mo sings.

and then, it is clear. the land around him settles, and everything is still. xin mo itself seems to be.. content. at least, that is what luo bingge believes.

the language of this wretched sword reflects the state around these two monsters.

luo bingge expects it to demand for bloodshed, for the erotic ecstasy of multiple women, for bingge to steal the last of the finest gems of these horrible, vast lands.

instead, he hears this:

"yoooo damn that shit was crazy. did you see what i did there? man, you know, it feels so fucking good to get out of the dirt. hey, do you know if people can like, feed their swords or something? i'm kinda craving something spicy. we never know, in this wack world! wait, don't hold me like that, buddy. it'll make things real awkward."

but luo bingge is determined to get his revenge, so he puts up with the swords' constant rambling about.. whatever the hell it's thinking.

"wait, dude, did you seriously fuck a dying girl? that's wild. yeah, like i know she was dying but it doesn't sound like you wanted it. yo, listen to me, consent is very sexy."

"HAHA hey, dude, sir, man. you wanna play some 'i spy'? we don't have anything else to do. no? too bad, we're playing it. i spy a loser who doesn't wanna play i spy. hint: he's holding me right now."

"okay i know i'm supposed to be this super evil sword and beg to be used - woah that sounded real wrong - but can you at least clean me when you're done killing shit? if you don't, i'm gonna refuse to respond to you and you'll look like a dumbass trying to wield me."

"i can't hear you lalalalalalala you're not being very it girl right now lallalalaalalalla-"

somehow, this is worse than if xin mo was actually eating away at his brain.

weirdly enough though, as luo bingge starts spending more time with this weird ass, seemingly possessed sword, it starts to become more of a.. comfort to have it by his side than pure annoyance. he finds himself responding to it more, like, actually having full on conversations with it. it puts him at ease, wielding xin mo. the hatred doesn't consume him, instead, it seems to soothe the burning rage (and, admittedly, just replace it with small irritation) that holds onto his darkened heart.

xin mo is actually quite kind and caring, for a sword that's supposed represent and be the literal embodiment of sin. sure, it is a hassle to have it cooperate with him sometimes, and it does just ramble on and on about the most random things ever, not giving a single shit if bingge was in the middle of sleeping with maidens and slaying those who get in his way. for the first time, bingge feels so comfortable around something.

it's.. odd. what was supposed to be the turning point in his life, a big step in his plan for revenge, is now something akin to an... acquaintance. not like mobei-jun, or any of the women he's come across, but an actual, dare he say, friend.

sometimes, he finds himself thinking all of this delusional. is this what people were driven mad by? perhaps they simply could not handle dealing with a talking sword. he understands that xin mo was undoubtedly unbearable to be around at the beginning of their alliance, but it has never actually beckoned for blood, power, and sex. if anything, it does the opposite.

maybe he's the delusional one. maybe this is xin mo's way of getting to him.

maybe, xin mo should be considered a thing. the thought feels terribly laughable, as if he were witnessing a person horribly explain themselves. it also makes his teeth grind together in pure agitation.

"hey, you know, you didn't deserve any of the things they did. it wasn't your fault, binghe. the fact that you're half heavenly demon doesn't make you a monster, or any of that wild stuff.. uh, i'm here for you, okay? i know you don't really like talking about all of this or opening up, but i just want you to know that you can.. talk about it. it's not like i can tell anyone else, anyways.

hey- shit i didn't mean to make you cry! wait, wait it's okay to cry! you need to let it out anyways, i promise it doesn't make you weak. there, there. i don't have any hands, so me patting you on the head with my handle will have to do. there, there.. everything will be alright, you'll be okay. i'll be here every step of the way, even if you want to get rid of me."

xin mo, the demonic sword, is more of a person - a good person - than anyone he'd ever come across.

...and then bingge and the xin mo transmigrator become besties or he falls for the damn sword. knowing him, he probably doesn't even know the difference between platonic and romantic attraction anyways. maybe bingge gets a plant body for xin mo using airplane's wack writing. idk i typed all of this down in one sitting.

(plot twist: it's not that the transmigrator xin mo had the opposite effect, it was literally just a placebo effect. luo bingge thought that, and thus it actually did help him lmao)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 9: So that's where the turtle came from!

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[heavenlyshadowhunter]

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Whenever I get comments on my fics I’m just like “oh you like my writing? You enjoyed this enough to tell me? How do you feel about a fall wedding? Or spring or summer or winter I’m not picky, whenever you want. I will literally take a bullet for you”