#gods are trying to be nice for once

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Bound, Epilogue

Previous part

Marinette and Tim had been having an average day. A slow, quiet day, if you will. It was the middle of summer, and therefore the bakery was getting less customers than usual – no one wants a hot meal when they’re already being roasted alive by the sun. They had decided to close up shop an hour early, since no one was coming in anyway, and spend a little extra time resting before they went to bed at the completely normal and average time of 5pm.

Alas, they had one more job before they could officially turn the sign in front of the door from Open to Closed: delivering a birthday cake.

How dare that child be born seven years ago. How rude of them. Didn’t they know Marinette and Tim wanted to sleep?

But fine, whatever, they supposed they could do their job.

Frankly, it wasn’t that big of a deal. The house they were taking it to wasn’t even that far away. Neither of them would have minded it at all… if it were not for the walk back.

It had started drizzling. Honestly, they had thought it was a godsend on such a horrible day, but perhaps it had been a literal godsend. A sign.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Tim asked, looping his arm around her shoulders lazily, dragging her into his side so he could hold the delivery bag over their heads like a makeshift umbrella. If they tracked too much rainwater into the bakery, they’d have to clean it up, and they did not want to bother with that.

“I was thinking we should just buy some ice cream and not tell my parents.” Marinette sent him a teasing grin. “You know, one day you’re going to have to learn how to cook.”

“You don’t want that,” he said, his nose wrinkling.

“Mmmmmaybe not. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Tim rolled his eyes at her. “No, I’m lucky your parents took one look at me and said ‘I do not care whether you two get married or I have to adopt him myself, that is now my son’.”

“Yeah! Because you’re pretty.”

He snickered. “That is definitely not why.”

“True, I guess.”

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. If she was agreeing this easily, then she definitely had another idea lined up. And, lo and behold, her eyes were gleaming with mirth.

“It’s because you’re a wet cat of a man.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky you’re a cat person, then,” he said, grinning cheekily.

Clearly, she had not been expecting that one, because her face gained a red tint and she snatched the delivery bag out of his hands to use as a fearsome weapon. Tim only laughed as she swatted him with the plastic bag. In his eyes, it was still worth it.

They were snapped out of their own little world thanks to the screeching of tires.

Their heads snapped to a nearby intersection.

The rain, though relatively light, had been enough to make the roads more slippery than expected, and a car had skidded far too close to hitting an old man. Thankfully, some blond guy had reacted in time to get him out of the way.

Tim and Marinette had, as nosy people often do, tried to get a good look at what was going on as they passed. Nothing interesting, really. The younger of the two was worrying over the man’s health, which seemed fine other than slightly scraped up knees and hands, certainly better than it could have been. The old man was assuring him he was fine and trying to collect all of the things that had fallen out of the blond’s bag when he had half-tackled him out of the way.

It was because Marinette’s head was turned towards the pair that Tim almost missed the horrified expression that stole across her face.

“Fucking – you!” she said, pointing at the old man.

The old man didn’t seem all that abnormal to look at. Stringy, gray and white hair and beard. A myriad of smile lines and age spots. His cane looked as if it had been fashioned out of an actual stick, probably custom-made, which was not surprising considering his height. The most interesting thing about him was the Hawaiian tee, which was remarkably loud.

But the old man seemed to recognize Marinette, too. He didn’t look confused at having been called out, he looked wary.

Marinette tugged the bag out of the old man’s hands and started sifting through it, her expression… well, Tim hadn’t seen that kind of existential terror since they had cut their String. He couldn’t say he had missed seeing it on her face.

“Mari?” he asked, resting a hand on her shoulder gently.

She didn’t even seem to notice. She pulled out a small, black box with a strange red design. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Do you recognize this?” she asked the blond.

Said blond had gone remarkably pale. He shook his head slowly, and Tim thought, vaguely, that he looked kind of unsure.

Marinette didn’t seem to notice. She scowled and shoved the box into the old man’s hands.

His hands closed around it quickly – not in the way people instinctively took things you pushed into their chest, but instead as if he had been expecting to take it back.

“What – what is that?” the blond asked.

Marinette hesitated here, her gaze darting up to meet his. And then she blinked. “Holy shit, aren’t you that guy from the perfume ads?”

The blond blushed and tugged his baseball cap lower over his face, a blush creeping up his neck.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of Tim’s eyes drew his attention away from the pair, and instead to the atrociously bright red of a Hawaiian shirt turning the corner. He hissed a curse and took up the chase.

The old man was surprisingly fast, for someone supposedly in need of a cane. Tim wasn’t a vigilante anymore, but he was by no means out of shape, and yet his feet pounded against the pavement, his eyes constantly flicking around in search of the flashes of too-bright red, always just barely catching sight of it in time to watch it turn a corner.

And then he saw the man disappear into an alleyway. One which, unless Tim remembered wrong, was a dead end.

He wasn’t wrong.

He swung around a pipe to get inside faster, and found the old man at the end of the alley, not the least bit out of breath.

Tim, however, was exhausted. So, forgive him for being slightly rough with the elderly when he grabbed him by the collar, shoving him against the wall. The old man’s smile hadn’t disappeared in the slightest, and Tim’s hands balled tighter in his shirt, frustration eating at him.

Despite the rain, the man wasn’t wet in the slightest.

“Who – what are you?” he hissed.

"Just someone who wants to right a wrong."

"That makes no sense."

The Old Man tipped his head back and laughed. Too far. Slowly, he unraveled before Tim’s eyes, his form spilling away into red fucking string that slipped between his fingers no matter how hard he tried to get a hold on it.

Tim stared at the only thing that remained of the man. A tiny bow tied around his thumb.

He swallowed thickly.

It wasn’t connecting him to anything, so he was probably safe to assume that this was what was left of the original String, and yet the fact that he could suddenly see it did not bode well.

He rushed back the way he’d come.

Marinette and the blond were backed up against a random building, people clamoring for the blond’s attention. Apparently, Marinette was right about him being a minor celebrity – perfume ad guy, Marinette had shown the video to him a while back because apparently he, as a Parisian, had to see it at least once or else he was a ‘fake’.

He was pretty sure the guy’s name was –

“Adrien!” someone squealed. “Can I have an autograph?!”

Adrien looked a little overwhelmed. Understandable, really.

Tim glanced around, and realized they weren’t backed up against just any building.

He clambered up the fire escape and then let himself in via the skylight. A few flights of stairs later, he was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Marinette dragged Adrien inside by the wrist, and Tim slammed the door shut behind them, triple-locking it. Usually, they only bothered with one or two, but considering the crowd… well, it was best to be safe.

Marinette reached up and turned the sign over the door to ‘Closed’.

Adrien sunk to the ground, groaning. He took off his hat so he could run his hands through his already messy hair.

Tim took the moment to look at Marinette’s pinky. She, too, had a tiny bow wrapped around her finger, but she wasn’t bound to anyone. Not to Tim, and certainly not to the random blond guy beside her.

The lack of a Red String of Fate didn’t quite put him at ease. If it wasn’t that that had been 'righted', then what was going on?

“Sorry about that,” Marinette mumbled, sitting beside Adrien.

“Well, you did save me from – I don’t know – a bomb? A tracker? Whatever that guy put in my bag. So I did owe you. Now, I think it’s evened back out.”

Marinette snickered. “I guess that’s fair.”

“We can make you owe us again,” Tim said, walking to tap his knuckles against the glass case containing everything that hadn’t been sold that day. Usually, they’d eat some and donate the rest, but hey, they had company for the foreseeable future. Might as well pawn some food off on him. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Adrien smiled faintly. “Got anything with passionfruit in it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Awwwwwwww.”

Marinette was watching Adrien out of the corner of her eyes, something inscrutable on her face.

“Mari?”

She jolted to attention, something soft stealing over her face. “I could make some passionfruit macarons, if you’d like that.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up, but he was quick to shake his head. “No, I can’t make you do all that…”

“We’re going to be stuck here for a while,” she said, pointing at the crowd still standing outside the door. “We might as well have something to do.”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. “I guess…”

“Great!” she said, hopping to her feet smoothly.

She held a hand out to help him up.

Adrien smiled as he took it.

[pokeberry5]

thug beatdown round 2: electric boogaloo

(extras, cw flashing gif:)

alt:

the fit:

[deoidesign]

It's my right to tell myself I can do just a little animation just for fun just for really quick to do some action and then spend 3 days straight on it

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - The Twins

You guys ready?! I don't think you are :3 @spotaus

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Are you guys ready? For this drabble of 5000 words? <3

Get cozy. Because we are finally here <3 The long awaited meeting.

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

Nightmare rubs his arm as he glances at his dads. None of them look happy about what is about to happen.

Dust notices him looking and relaxes his face “You ready?”

Nightmare frowns as he rubs his arm again. Checking his own outfit again. He is wearing his favourite pants. They are wide and have nice ribbons on the side and they are a soft pastel pink. It goes nicely with his bat hoody.

Nightmare shrugs before walking towards Dust’s side and relaxes a bit when he feels himself be picked up. Dust nuzzles the side of his skull “Ready?”

Nightmare feels a lot less sure and mutters “What if this is a bad idea?” He has no idea how Dream will react to him. What if this is a bad idea? What if Dream just looks at him and walks away? What if… what if nothing is different? What is Dream still hates him? Still attacks him? Even after everything?

Sure Dream now knew that Nightmare did what he had to do to fix the balance. But Nightmare doesn’t know if Dream even knows why Nightmare attacked the villagers. They fought so often and he never wanted to listen… Nightmare still isn’t sure if Dream will listen to him.

Sure… Dream knows the balance thing now. But that is probably just because some other god told him. Maybe Error and Ink… Not Nightmare… Dream didn’t listen to him and never wanted to listen to him. What would change now?

What if Dream only likes him now because he is small again? Now that he isn’t the… the evil that took his brother anymore? Would Dream even accept that past as a part of him? Would Dream just always hate a side of Nightmare?

Could Nightmare deal with that? Could he accept Dream hating a part of him just to have some love from his brother? Finally after so much time?

Dust pokes his cheek and Nightmare sees the worried look on his face “Nightlight?” and he gentle rubs away a tear from his cheek.

Oh.

Nightmare is quick to rub the other tears away and mutters “What if Dream still hates me?”

Dust frowns and rubs his skull before pulling the hood on “Then… he is an idiot.” Nightmare blinks and stares at Dust. Dust grins back “You are our tiny adorable babybones. Maybe I am biased but I am unsure how anyone could ever hate you.” and he gets another nuzzle.

Killer grins and gives him his own nuzzle “Oh we are very biased. Our little boss is perfect and can do no wrong.” Nightmare feels himself get embarrassed as he looks away.

Cross sighs as he pulls Killer back “Kills, you will get more goop on him and he just had his bath.” Cross carefully checks his face before nodding.

Killer wiggles his eyebrows at Cross “Bet you don’t mind getting some goop on your face.”

Cross looks very unimpressed at Killer before grabbing his hand and giving Killer a half bow as Cross kisses his knuckles. Cross looks up and winks at Killer “Maybe later when we are alone. If you behave.” Killer sputters and glows bright red.

Dust rolls his eyes “Not in front of Nightmare.” and he gets another nuzzle which Nightmare happily leans into.

Horror returns to their side and checks his outfit before nodding “Should be warm enough.”

Killer sighs “It is still warm out…”

Horror hums “Better be safe.”

“Mh. If you four were planning on being safe you wouldn’t even be meeting with Dream and Blue with him to begin with.”

Nightmare looks up excited “Error!”

Error has appeared in their kitchen and shoots him a tiny grin before glaring at the others “It is an unnecessary risk.” He crosses his arms.

Cross frowns “It is actually necessary. If we don’t do this meeting on our terms in another universe it is a matter of time before we are found here.”

Nightmare doesn’t like that. It would mean hiding all over again. He pushes close to Dust “I don’t want to move.”

Dust hums softly and nuzzles him “I know. We don’t want to move either.”

Nightmare nods and looks at his hands “Is this a bad idea?” He knows it is.

Dust hums “Not precisely… we are just worried.” He nuzzles him again “We don’t want to risk you. In any way.”

Nightmare sneaks a look but Dust looks honest. Dust keeps looking at him “Do you still want to do this?”. Nightmare just stares at Dust but Dust looks serious “I mean it. If you changed your mind and don’t want to do this. We will blow this whole thing off.”

Nightmare frowns and looks to the side “Won’t that cause trouble?”

Dust shrugs “Maybe but we can fix that.”

Error nods “I am already working on relocating this universe to other coordinates. Meaning you will soon be hidden again.”

Dust nods and nuzzles him “Nothing has to change. We don’t have to go. You don’t own them anything.” He just looks at him “You have already had to do too much Nightmare. It is fine to just put yourself first.”

Nightmare frowns as he thinks it over before looking back at Dust “I want to see him.” because even if he is afraid. Even if he knows Dream will just hate him. Even if he knows this will just hurt him. He wants to see Dream. He needs to know for sure. Know for sure where they stand.

Dust nods and looks at the others. Nightmare can see that Killer and Cross clearly are not happy. Horror looks worried and rubs his skull “If you want to leave. We leave. No questions asked.” Nightmare smiles and leans into the touch.

Horror smiles at him before shooting Killer, Cross and Error a look “We are going.” Cross grumbles unhappily but gets his knife ready to open the portal.

They walk through and into a forest. It is still warm out with only a light breeze. The leaves are all a beautiful range of yellows, oranges and reds and Nightmare just stares in awe. It is so pretty out here.

Cross and Killer quickly check the area before nodding. Horror looks at them amused “We are still ten minutes away from the meeting spot. Lets go.” he shoots Error a look “You coming?”

Error considers and shoots him a look before speaking “I will keep an eye out. In case stuff goes south I will quickly move you to another universe. Any preference as backup?”

Nightmare speaks without thinking “Ccino’s.”

Error needs a moment as he types before nodding “Easy enough. If anything goes wrong I will send you there. In the meantime I will work on the relocation.” And he steps into a glitchy portal and he is gone.

Sigh. Error is so cool. Nightmare will figure out how to hold his hand one of these days!

Horror joins Dust’s side and mumbles softly “Do you want any of us to hold him?”

Dust frowns as he looks at him for a long time. Clearly not wanting to let go of him. Before he sighs and looks at Cross “Cross? Can you hold him and stay out of sight?”

Cross smiles brightly and nods as he is by his side within seconds “I will make sure they can’t see him until you give me the signal.” Cross’s hold is different from Dust. Dust’s hold is always tight and so close. Cross’s hold is more gentle but still steady. Unmoving in the way he holds him.

Nightmare hums and leans against Cross.

Cross takes a deep breath and nothing seems to happen but Killer gives him the thumbs up “Invisible to see.” Dust looks less happy and shifts his sight around clearly searching.

Cross must see it too because he takes Dust’s hand and helps him find Nightmare’s. Dust immediately relaxes. Cross smiles brightly as he speaks cheerfully “At least with the walk we can do it like this.”

Dust looks thankful and mutters that he is.

They start walking and Nightmare enjoys the soft sunlight and warmth around him. He lets himself relax as he feels Cross’s soul nearby. Safe and sound.

They enter a clearance and Nightmare looks up only to freeze. That are Dream and Blue. He feels himself sink closer to Cross and Cross pulls him closer as well. Dust has sadly removed his hand but Nightmare is still close to one of his dads and that is enough.

Dream looks up eagerly and looks between those there. Then he frowns.

Blue frowns as well “Euh… where is Nightmare?”

Killer grins as he holds up a knife “Just making sure we got some ground rules first.”

Dream frowns as he gets up himself “We already discussed those. No one will learn of this meeting. This stays between us all. No aggression and no making any move to remove Nightmare from you.”

Nightmare just keeps leaning against Cross. Waiting.

Killer nods along “Yes exactly. Those are the rules we settled on. But you know. You never said what you would gain from speaking to Nightmare.” he grins and waits.

Dream blinks and looks down. Messing with his shirt “I just… I want to see him… say I am sorry…” he looks desperate “You want me to beg?! Because I will! Just… Tell me what you want!”

Killer looks at Dust and Dust shrugs. Horror turns slightly and nods into their general direction.

Cross nuzzles his skull and slowly becomes visible. Much to the obvious shock of Blue and Dream.

Dream looks confused at them and mutters “Why take your child along?” as he keeps looking around hopefully. Blue however stares at him and Nightmare stares back. Nightmare can see when it clicks for Blue.

Blue takes a sharp breath and takes a few steps back “Nightmare?”

Dream looks at Blue and sees where he is staring. And he stares at Nightmare. Nightmare can see that it just takes one look for Dream to realise who he is. Dream takes a sharp breath and is already four steps closer before he even mutters his name “Nighty?”

Killer stands between them and has his knife aimed at Dream’s throat “Don’t.”

Dust has his own blaster out and aimed at them and Horror just stands between them and the stars.

Blue holds up his hands “Okay… let’s calm down…” he pulls on Dream’s shoulder and makes him take a few steps back. Dream however just keeps staring at him “Easy Dream… Easy… deep breaths. Just take a moment.”

Dream however is shaking as he keeps staring at him. He glances at Nightmare’s dads between staring “How… How is he… Why is he? What did you four do?!”

Killer sputters and glares “We didn’t do shit-” Dust immediately hits his skull.

“Language.”

Killer grumbles but nods “Yeah yeah I know. Nightmare don’t copy that.”

Nightmare rolls his eyes but leans against Cross more as Cross snickers into his shoulder.

Killer rubs his own shoulder as he speaks “Again. We didn’t do anything. All we know is. That one day his apple and god related magic disappeared. And what was left was Nightmare in his full glory.” Killer stops and grins “Well. His true form at least.” He grins a Dream and the grin turned sharper “After all… The apple thing happened when he was six… You had time to grow up once you exited the stone didn’t you? When exactly was Nightmare supposed to grow up?”

Dream is breathing shallowly as he takes it in. His eyelights small and staring at him. Nightmare can’t look away.

Blue is the one who speaks “You mean… the whole time… Nightmare was actually…”

Dust speaks calmly “Six? Pretty much.”

Blue just stares ahead and laughs as he rubs his forehead “A six year old managed to outsmart most of the other gods and stay out of trouble for almost 500 years… what the hell.”

Dust and Killer both freeze and Nightmare huffs as he crosses his arms “Not exactly… I had more like… thinking space and stuff… I was better able to handle the magic and powers in that form…” he leans more against Cross “Not anymore.”

Cross coos and nuzzles him “Our little baby.”

Blue gives a slow nod, huh he is holding Dream’s hand and squeezing his hand to reassure him? Blue smiles “And now… the apple magic is gone?”

As soon as he says it Cross pulls him closer and takes three steps back. Dream makes a pained noise as he reaches for him “please… please don’t go…”

Everyone is still. Dream takes a shaking step closer “Nighty? Please… I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am sorry I didn’t listen to you. I am sorry I didn’t hear you out before… When I first joined the multiverse. It was stupid of me to believe the words of those I just met over you. It was stupid of me to not even hear you out and I am sorry. I swear. I swear I have been working on fixing it. I made sure everyone knows it was my fault and that you helped them.”

Dream takes another step closer and Nightmare can hear all four of his dads growl at him.

Dream just continues talking “I am sorry… For way back too… I should have.. I should have stayed with you with the tree… I found a copy of our story… I know now… I swear. I swear I didn’t know. If I had known what they did I wouldn’t have left you! I swear!” he smiles.

Nightmare doesn’t know what to do. What to feel. It is… isn’t this what he wanted? Dream sees he is wrong. Dream is saying he would have been there for him if he had known… Then why does he still doubt it?

Nightmare frowns as he looks away from Dream and leans more against Cross again and speaks “You are just saying that because I am like this again…” there!

Dream shakes his skull “No! I swear it isn’t! I wanted to talk to you for this reason. To apologise!” he takes another few steps closer and Horror remains as a living wall between him and Cross and Nightmare. Dream stares desperate “I swear. I swear on my soul that I didn’t know and I was planning on saying all of this already.” He looks back at Blue.

Blue sees it and nods “It is true! He has been trying to find you for a year now. Well longer even! As soon as we found the storybook in Dreamtale. He has been wanting to talk to you. Before we even figured out the balance business! I swear and I promise this is the truth.”

Nightmare frowns as he stares at them both. Blue is a rather honest person… He looks at his dads for reference.

Cross sees him look and pulls him close as he mutters softly “I think he is being honest…” Cross did spend the most time with the Stars before he joined Nightmare…

He looks at Horror and Horror still seems calm. The fact Horror doesn’t have his weapon out yet says a lot about what he thinks about the situation. Killer and Dust still look unhappy but both of them are always unhappy when it comes to anyone being near him.

Dream rubs his hands and looks at them begging “Can I… Maybe… It would be amazing… And I get if you don’t want to but.” He takes a deep breath “Nighty… can I please hug you?”

Cross freezes and takes four steps back. A blink and a loud distressed noise leaves Dream as he looks around searching. Oh… Cross made them both invisible.

Dust growls as he stalks towards Dream. Lightning and electricity crackling loudly “You have some fucking nerve. After all the pain and problems you caused.”

Blue looks shocked as he mutters “Acolytes…”

Nightmare frowned. He isn’t sure what Blue means. They are just them…

Horror looks very unimpressed as Killer just laughs loudly “Really?! Still trying to steal him?! Like this?! You don’t even try to make it subtle.” And he shakes his skull.

Dream looks desperate “I am not trying to steal him! I just want to hug my twin!” he holds himself as tears leak from his optics “I miss him… I have missed him so much. All because I was too dumb and too blind to look at the facts. I just want to hold him. Hug him…” he looks at them begging “Just once. Please. Just… just tell me what you want!”

Killer huffs and looks unimpressed but Dust lets the electricity slowly shimmer down again.

Nightmare frowns before looking at Cross. Cross sees him look and looks panicked “You don’t need to.”

Nightmare rubs his arm and mutters softly “I want to.” Silence around them and yeah Nightmare figured everyone would hear.

Cross looks deeply unhappy but sighs before bringing their skulls together. Then he slowly walks over to Dream and Blue as Dream just looks so damn hopeful.

Killer steps between them “Yeah. We are putting in some insurance. Blue. Over there.” Blue blinks but nods as he walks to the side. Killer nods to Dust and Dust summons a loaded blaster aimed at Blue.

Blue freezes and looks a whole lot more nervous “euh….”

Killer grins “Insurance!” he grins widely at Dream “You make a single move to steal our babybones and your bestie will be turned into dust.” He winks cheeky “Understood?”

Dream looks horrified at Blue but so wishful at him “I… I… You can’t… Blue…”

Blue frowns as he looks up “You only shoot when he tries to leave with him right?”

Dust nods. Blue nods again and grins at Dream “It is fine Dream. Just stay with them and get your hug.”

Dream looks shocked but then so hopeful at him. Cross gets close and pulls him slightly away from him. Dream has his arms out and they shake lightly. Dream lets out a pained noise and Nightmare suddenly regrets giving that apple magic back to his cat version. Seeing as now the scars on his skull are very obvious.

One pass later and Dream is holding him. Dream just stares in shock at him “You looks exactly the same… except” tears leave his sockets and Dream just hugs him fully against him. Before he crumbles to the ground and Nightmare hears and feels Dream cry against him as he mutters stuff to him As he light as a feather strokes the scars on his skull.

“Nighty.”

“I missed you so much.”

“I am sorry.”

“I am so so so sorry.”

“I swear I will be better.”

“It is so good to see you.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I love you.”

That is the one that makes him freeze and react “No you don’t.”

Silence and Dream pulls away from his hug to look at him. Not permitting him even an inch to move away. Nightmare just looks down “You don’t love me.” That he knows at least.

Dream shakes and shakes his skull “I do love you.”

Nightmare rolls his eye lights as he mutters “You only say that because I look like this… If I had still been an adult you would have still hated me.”

Dream shakes his skull and just holds him close “I always loved you. I swear. I know I haven’t been a good brother. I know I failed in everything that makes a brother a brother and I swear I will do better. But I always loved you Nightmare.”

Nightmare looks to the side “You tried to kill me.” He still has nightmares of Dream attacking him.

Dream sniffs and sobs “I know. And I am so sorry and I swear I thought it was the only thing I could do.” he pulls back and brings their foreheads softly together “It… it is okay.” he sobs but keeps speaking “It is okay… if you hate me… forever. I would… it would be deserved. For everything I did. But I need… I need you to know. I always loved you. I swear to you.”

Nightmare just stares at him. He isn’t sure what Dream sees on his face but it must be that Nightmare doesn’t believe him as he just keeps crying. Dream rolls up as far around him as he can and just sits there. Sobbing as he mutters more apologise and love declarations. Promises to be better and do everything in his power to prove it.

The hug… is very nice though. Nightmare is surprised by how nice the hug feels.

Most shocking is that his soul recognises Dream’s soulbeat. It is so much like his own but slightly off rhythm. But unlike with his dads. His soul doesn’t move to match it. They just beat together, slightly out of sync.

Dream seems to notice as well as he holds him closer and Nightmare can hear him try to do some of those breathing exercises to calm his soulbeat. Nightmare can feel how Dream’s soul starts to beat a slightly different speed but it doesn’t change much.

Dream sobs and laughs softly “Why… why don’t they match anymore? They… they should match. They always matched.”

Horror huffs “Because his soul has other bonds to count on now. Nightmare isn’t depended on you Dream. And he hasn’t for a long time.”

Dream freezes and looks up shocked. Dream’s eyes shoot between Nightmare’s dads before turning back to stare at him.

Nightmare isn’t sure what to say. He however makes eye contact with Killer and reaches a hand for him. Killer is by their side immediately and grins at Dream “Well time to return tiny boss to us!”

Dream shakes slightly and Nightmare feels his grip tighten on him but after just one more very close hug Dream clearly forces himself to let go of him. Nightmare is back in Killer’s arms within seconds and it feels nice to be near the other soul again. Nightmare immediately starts to relax and feels his soul start to follow Killer’s rhythm.

Killer coos and Nightmare feels him walk away a bit. By the time he actually takes a moment to open his sockets again he is already back by his dads and Blue and Dream are standing side by side.

Blue has this soft look on his face but Dream… Dream just stands there shaking and staring at him. His hands close to his chest and tears clearly in his sockets.

Nightmare frowns and turns to be close to Killer. Trying to hide. Killer notices and immediately hugs him closer and shifts his hold. Hiding him a bit. Nightmare relaxes as he feels a bit safer.

Dust hums and shrugs “Well. You saw him. Goodbye.” And he turns around.

Dream shouts “Wait!”

Dust glares at him but Dream doesn’t glare back. He just looks begging “Please… please… I can’t… please there has to be some way I can keep seeing Nighty?”

Dust raises a brow “And what exactly could you do for him?”

Dream flinches as he rubs his arms while hugging himself “I am his brother… his twin… We are gods I can… I know I can help him… I can take care of him… I actually got information from gods and know what is going on.” He smiles hopefully.

But Nightmare just feels cold. He doesn’t want to be away from his dads!

Dust just laughs before glaring “If you think for even a second any of us trust you with our babybones you are wrong.”

Dream blinks and glares “I am his brother.”

Dust laughs “And what a good brother you have been. What? Haven’t done enough target practise yet? Or did you already conveniently forget that you had been shooting arrows at Nightmare since the first moment you saw him after you woke up from the stone?”

Dream flinches and shakes his skull “Yes- I mean No! I know that but-”

Dust just walks closer. Electricity crackling “Okay. Then you forgot about the fact that you spread rumours and lies about Nightmare? How you assumed what he was doing and spread that misinformation around? Making his job much more difficult?”

Dream shakes his skull “I know! I told others I was wrong and have righted that wrong and-”

Dust grins sharply “Or better yet. At the very start. When you didn’t believe him when he told you those villagers hurt him. How your first instinct when you saw him after your mother died was to attack him.”

Dream flinches again.

“Dust enough!”

Dust blinks and looks over. Cross stands behind him and pulls on his arm. “Enough.”

Nightmare doesn’t get it. Why-

Oh…

He is shaking… and crying.

Dust sees it and slowly walks closer and rubs his cheek “sshh… shh… it is okay… none of that will ever happen again… we won’t let it.” Nightmare holds an arm out to Dust and Killer easily hands him over to Dust. Nightmare relaxes a bit. It is familiar and safe.

Killer sounds very calm as he speaks “You lost any right to take care of him or watch over him long ago Dream. The things you fixed? That were things that needed fixing. That was your job to fix as you ruined them to begin with. But just because you fixed your own mistakes doesn’t mean that we or Nightmare have to trust you.”

Dream looks to the side and Blue rubs his arm as he speaks “Dream just missed him. I know I know very rich coming from him but… even if it isn’t possible for Dream to take care of him and I get it. You guys have been through a lot.”

Dream looks ready to go against it but Blue just shakes his skull at him “You need time to actually process all of this as well Dream.” Blue turns back to them “But… wouldn’t it be nice for both of them to at least get the chance to see each other? To talk? To maybe slowly start to mend their broken bond?”

This time Nightmare can see all his dads exchange looks.

Blue smiles “Just… please just think about it… I know you wouldn’t do it or agree to it for Dream… But maybe it is nice for Nightmare? To give him the ability and chance to get this bond back?” Blue looks hesitant but keeps talking “I know a lot happened. And that will leave scars… But isn’t it better to at least be able to mend that bond a little? To at least feel safe near each other?”

Nightmare frowns as he pushes close to Dust. Dust nuzzles him.

Blue nods “It is a lot… and I get you need space…” he shoots Dream a look “You both need space. Time to think and consider. Which we will give.”

Dream looks up pained “Blue no! I searched for so long and-”

Blue smiles sadly at Dream “Dream I know. I know this hurts… And I know you want this so badly and you missed him. But you need to let him make his choice. You know he is safe. You know he is healthy.” And he looks at him “Isn’t that enough for now? Wasn’t that the whole goal?”

Dream looks lost before shooting him another look “Yeah… yeah it was… I am sorry… I just…”

Blue laughs and nudges their shoulders together “It is a lot. Your mind is going a mile per second and you are terrified of messing up again so you are trying to fix things right away. Take a moment Dream.” And Blue grins at them “We really are happy you guys are okay. Especially after everything came to light.”

Killer looks very mistrusting at them but gives a slow nod “Take a moment to process this.” He shoots them a look and Nightmare can see Killer stare at him for a moment. Then Killer sighs as he rubs his skull “Fucking hell.”

“Language.”

Most surprising. That came from five sources. Nightmare looks over and sees both Dream and Blue look disapproving at Killer.

Killer looks so unimpressed at them “Seriously?”

Blue shrugs “He is six… at least now…”

Killer sighs but nods “Anyway! We are going home… Take a moment to pull yourselves together and also don’t try to find where we live anymore. It is creepy… Also you don’t want to deal with the backstory we made up for us there.”

Blue looks curious “What is the backstory?”

Dust answers very unamused “Killer made it up. Nightmare is mine biologically and there was a bad ex.”

Horror looks highly amused “Which… you two caused quite the stir because well… There is no denying Dream and Nightmare look alike and red plus blue equals purple.” And he waits.

Blue and Dream look shocked.

Dust looks so done with everything “You still own me Killer.”

Killer grins and winks “Anything you want dear. Tonight fitting your schedule?”

Cross coughs “Anyway! We are going...”

Blue looks highly embarrassed “Thanks for the warning…”

Killer snorts “Not like it matters anymore. Error should be done with relocating the universe by now.”

Dream shoots upright “Error is doing what?!”

Killer grins and nods “Hiding us again to keep rude visitors out! Talking about Error. Hey dude ready to pull us out?”

A window in the sky opens and Error looks out unamused “Only emergency. Do it yourself.”

Dream however glares at Error “You knew?! You knew the whole time where he was?! That he was okay?!”

Error raises a brow at Dream “Obviously.”

Nightmare however is more focussed on Error “Error!” and he waves.

Error blinks and snorts but waves back “Nightmare.”

Nightmare beams.

Blue gasps “Oh that is adorable.” Dream however glares very angerly at Error.

Cross at this point cuts the universe fabric “Okay we are going. All through.” Dust goes first.

They appear back in their home and Nightmare pouts at Cross “Why did we leave? Error was there.”

Cross looks amused “Because you are still grounded so no hanging out with Error until the being grounded is done.”

Nightmare pouts but a yawn breaks through. Dust hums and nuzzles his skull “Nap time?”

Nightmare nods as he pushes closer to Dust. This is nice.

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

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

[quinns-art-box]

and an extremely late thing i did for saimatsu week day 7!! tiny little comic the prompt was birthday :] absolutely adore the hc that kaede's bad at cooking but she is trying so hard and that's always good enough. plus they can just do it together <3

[disposal-blueeee]

no bg ver because i once AGAIN added too many details and thet got lost with everything else

[papercutslut]

Ok now reading TBOB finally has CEMENTED in my head without a shadow of a doubt that Bill "master manipulator" Cipher is garbage shit at manipulating and the main reason he got so far with Ford was

The homosexual situationship

Ford is also a massive weirdo freak. They matched <3

[sunnibits]

aaaa I just wanna hear izzy laugh so bad!! I want someone to crack him up and miraculously get a genuine smile out of him for the first time in like two decades. I want him to overhear some funny bit from the crew’s shared stories that actually makes him huff a little snort, only for him to immediately try to hide it. I want to hear that gravelly, deep rusty chuckle of his goddamnit!!! I want everyone to hear it and immediately whip their heads up in wide eyed shock. (is that… izzy?? laughing???? I didn’t even know he could DO that). (something in ed’s chest creaks a little to hear it again. it’s been so long since he’s heard that sound). I will not rest until my boy gets a tiny shred of happiness and that’s final!!!!

[creativitycache]

I’ve been writing Ch 21 for a month, just dying to have someone point out the error that is actually Plot in Ch 20. It’s been consuming me.

I am wiggling like a Golden Retriever who is begging for someone to notice the Trick I just did. I want people to be in on the [Spoiler]! I am making the face of someone who just told a horrible convoluted pun but the worst part of that metaphor is at this point I haven’t even posted the punchline.

These are all things that are normal to want and possible to achieve.

[boxwinebaddie]

UNCLE NINA WRITES WEIRD JK STAN LETTERS!

hello benevolent angel people!

( because you're wonderful but bc you're doing gods work by supporting my dead fanfic from hell. c:’ )

so this is a lil...experimental? but bc i've been dabbling on that one ask large lore ask that set before kyle knows raven of crimson dawn is his stan, i've gotten very attached to writing the silly jersey letters to dead stan in his journal again. ( again, nina lore is that it's what a friend had me do when my first cat passed away.

i still write to her. <3 )

but this is just something i wrote to get back into the habit of writing again. i put it on docs and i used a font which...okay? tbh, i think looks exactly like i want jk's handwriting to look. like its very swirly, he is my calligraphy king. i didn't proof it bc i just wrote...all of it tonight like a weird crazy person.

also i realize jk sounds...a lot like me

— but he Is me, tbh?

like in some facets i did give him lil pieces of myself so he could grow into an uber tall thicc as hell academic hot jersey talk shit get hit boy.

( i also do think he's a lot goofier with stan in his little letters esp since he doesn't think that anyone is going to read them they are just his lil vent space. let it out king! )

as for the timeline...i think it's pre!rm bonus content? like i dropped a little context about stuff that happened before the fic, but i think it's probably written anywhere in the last 1-2 years of rm before kyle went to that crimson dawn concert. i'm not sure what compelled me to write it i just...really like vulnerable jersey just being a jersey dirtbag but like kneeling by the stan shrine and asking for light.

speaking of...as far as triggers go. mostly the spelling is just bad, help, but jersey does talk a lot about stan dying and is very...distressed about it. he's also...really depressed and is not at the moment coping super well, but is reaching out for help. <3 always reach out for help when you need it. i didn't mention anything specific, but he does just mention thinking he's not a good person, feeling ugly, unworthy, lost, etc...TW FOR HIM BEING SO VULNERABLE AND CUTE ALSO.

he is...my secret loverboy prince.

he is my lo-...

my L-

anyways...ROLL CLIP!

[torchickentacos]

I just met the rarest type of person on earth- a best buy employee who helped me without trying to sell me stuff that I didn't need.

[baeshijima]

it is now officially the 25th which means...

merry christmas everyone !!! regardless of whether u celebrate or not, i hope u all have a lovely day with whoever u spend it with or with urself <33

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[anastacialy]

please dont put violent racists like timidsketch or anyone who equates someone not looking like them to the horrors of genocide (???????? wtf is wrong with that person) on my dashboard

alright, i'm gonna walk you through this real quick, much like i had to clarify for timidsketch. i'd love to just ignore this ask, since this feels a bit like sealioning (trying to start an argument knowing it'll make others look bad) but instead, i'll give you the benefit of the doubt. firstly, timidsketch is not racist, nor are they 'violent,' they simply misunderstood part of a poem. much like you misunderstood her reaction to said poem. not everyone is great at literary analysis. or reading comprehension. this is the piss on the poor website.

timidsketch, in her reaction to said poem, expressed that the genocide in gaza is horrific. and that gaining weight should not be seen as AN EQUIVALENT HORROR to genocide. because it isn't. this, the both of you clearly agree on. however, that was simply the part of the poem that was misunderstood. the poem wasn't saying that it was equivalent. the poem was highlighting that as a contrast, that there is so much more going on in the world than something so simple as the author's weight gain.

genocide (big, awful, horrible) VS. laundry to do (small, easy, a slight inconvenience at worst). simple as that.

you, anon, in your accusations, have also simply misread the post.

[spacespore]

HI TUMBLRR it’s me