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#scary inspiration
itsbrucey · 3 months
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Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.
Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.
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ink-the-artist · 6 months
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Video game I saw in a dream. It was in this low poly style like an older video game. You play as this character I think was meant to be a lamb, or maybe a weird mix of a lamb a mouse and a rabbit, (while not really looking like any of those things) and you’re running away from a wolf. Your objective is to last as long as possible before the wolf catches and eats you.
The house you’re running in is endless and bizarrely put together like most building interiors in dreams are (like the infinite toilet dream dimension on Reddit lol) the layout of the house is pretty detailed, you can stop and hide in places like closets or bins while the wolf looks for you, you can go up and down stairs and into rooms etc.
You never actually know where the wolf is or how close it is to you until it appears in your line of sight, it makes no noise and the game gives you no way of knowing where it is, and it’s pretty unpredictable it doesnt move at a consistent pace. When the wolf catches you there’s an animation showing it eating your character
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urhome4horror · 1 year
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ryartchus · 2 months
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hrm...
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alpacacare-archive · 5 months
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he dont bite
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n0anix · 6 months
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enjoying the sun (half of them are so cat coded actually)
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raepliica · 11 months
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tristamp post-timeskip woowoo!! injecting him with cowboy swag baybiee
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also, a little bit of a redraw
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fleetways · 4 months
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finally. the chimera baby super form
due to her particularly strong chaos powers, mira can obtain a mini super form with less than 7 emeralds. depending upon the number of emeralds, her appearance and personality can change quite drastically. this is her with either five or six.
obligatory poll link
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wizardemotions · 2 months
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i had to get the slytherins out of my head. also the dynamic i personally imagine for eighth year drarry
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Winter transitions into Spring 🌷 The text reads:
He wakes, melting snow reveals a robin blushed chest, in his arms he bears a bouquet of sleepy tulips, healing from Winter’s last icy kiss. He forgives his thawed chamber, now nothing more than a pool at the edge of his memory, for its guiding hibernation taught him the true warmth of the sun. (MMXXIII) Hail Spring; his radiance in full bloom.
Prints on pressed flower paper are available in my shop (there’s a green option that is limited ^^) as well as lustre. If you’d like to take a look…
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redwinterroses · 2 months
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There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.
False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…
She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.
“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day. 
There is no other reaction to her call.
False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.
She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.
The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though. 
Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes. 
The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.
Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.
It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.
She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”
Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.
“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”
Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.
She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.
“Oh, hi there, False!”
False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.
Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.
“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”
“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.
“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem. 
More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall. 
“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.
False takes a step back.
“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”
“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”
There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye. 
“Um…”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.
Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.
“Etho’s not here, is he?”
False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back. 
They taste of sweet rot.
“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.
Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead. 
Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”
“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.
“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.” 
False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.
“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”
Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”
False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.
“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”
“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.
“Oops! Behind you, False!” 
Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.
The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes. 
“Oh no.”
The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.
“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.
The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.
“...Dangit.”
[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]
~*~
Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there. 
“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault. 
Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.
It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light. 
And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:
Half a stack of cherry logs.
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geomimetry · 5 days
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suggestive monster stuff under the cut
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i havent posted art in almost a year and this is what i decide to break the ice with hi
go big or go home amirite
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maiumeni · 17 days
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TW: SLIGHT EPILEPSY
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difference between 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓫𝓾𝓰 and ҉͓̽l͓̽҉҉͓̽o͓̽҉҉͓̽v͓̽҉҉͓̽e͓̽҉҉͓̽b͓̽҉҉͓̽u͓̽҉҉͓̽g
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anonymous-dentist · 7 days
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Or: In a world where everybody has a superpower, Roier doesn't seem to have one
For day five of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week- Superheroes/Blood
-
Cellbit's dreams are always dark. They start with him in his childhood bedroom, and then they move him down to the kitchen his parents died in, and then they end with him under the bridge. The sounds are muffled, but he can still understand what's being said, and it's always: "It's your fault."
Because it is.
He's had the same dreams since the night his parents died.
Every.
Goddamn.
Night.
But, well. He deserves it. The darkness surrounding the edges of his dream blurs out the unimportant details, like the face of the little girl who was sitting at the kitchen table when Cellbit's parents died, or the view outside of his bedroom window.
But the darkness hides something else- and this is a recent development, and he really doesn't understand it. Because, just out of view, is a figure in all black with eyes that glow white and claws that tear through Cellbit's dreams like they're paper.
He doesn't know who, or what, this thing is, but he does know a few things about it:
The creature destroys Cellbit's nightmares, sending his subconscious tumbling into a much happier dream- one that he can never remember when he wakes up
The creature tries to talk to him every time, but the fangs in its mouth are so large that it just can't
The creature seems to grow taller and stronger with every nightmare it destroys.
The creature is scared of Cellbit's husband
Now, yeah, sure, the creature can't talk, but Cellbit doesn't need to hear someone speak to know what they're afraid of. That's his superpower: fear. He can look at someone and hear what they're scared of, and he can make them scared, and it's horrible and he's a monster and he deserves to-
Cellbit gasps his way into full consciousness. He stares at the ceiling, chest heaving, brain loud and annoying and and and and-
"Gatinho?" Roier murmurs, curled up by Cellbit's side with his head pillowed on Cellbit's chest. He wraps an arm around Cellbit's middle and squirms closer, somehow, he's so clingy.
"Está bem," Cellbit breaths. "Just... just thinking."
"Well, don't," Roier grumbles. "Your brain is loud. Sleep, pendejo."
As if on command, Cellbit's eyelids droop. Roier always has this effect on him; he's just so comforting. He's a living, breathing weighted blanket, and Cellbit loves him so fucking much.
Soon enough, he's asleep again, and he's face-to-face with the creature again.
The creature tries to speak, but no noise comes out.
It flexes its claws as Dream Cellbit starts the walk downstairs to the kitchen.
The dream is shredded, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-
-
Roier and Cellbit have been married for almost one whole entire wonderful year. He's known Roier for one and a half years, and he's been out of prison for two years.
Roier knows about the creature in Cellbit's dreams, even if Cellbit hasn't told him what his dreams actually are. Roier's been trying to come up with a name for it for months now, but Cellbit doesn't really know what to think of that considering the creature is literally invading his brain every night.
"It's kind of sweet, though, right?" Roier asks.
Cellbit wrinkles his nose and jabs his chopsticks down into his rice.
Dinner tonight is Chinese takeout because Roier's tired from work and Cellbit is tired from existing. It's good, but kind of bland. Since they changed ownership and ended up under the Federation of Heroes' official branding, the food has gone downhill. Yet another thing that Cucurucho has ruined, ugh.
"I mean, maybe?" Cellbit replies. "It's kind of freaky."
"I don't know, it kind of sounds cute."
Cellbit gives Roier a flat look; Roier just grins and steals some chicken from his plate.
"It's destroying my dreams," Cellbit says. "That doesn't sound 'cute' to me."
"Yeah, but doesn't it give you different dreams?" Roier asks. "I think it's trying to help."
"Yeah, or it's trying to kill me."
Roier's shoulders tighten. "Do you think so?"
It's always hard to pick up Roier's fears, but Cellbit can often just guess them even without using his powers. Like, he knows that Roier is just scared enough of bears to refuse to go camping anywhere without a cabin for him to stay him. He and Cellbit are both terrified of losing each other, and they're even more scared of losing their kids.
God, Cellbit is so stupid. He doesn't need to be worrying Roier with this, he already freaks out enough when Cellbit ends up caught in the middle of one of the Federation's hero fights due to his abysmally terrible luck.
His face falls. He places his chopsticks down and reaches across the table and takes Roier's hand in his.
"It'll be fine," he tells Roier. "If it tries to kill me, I'll just... wake up."
"If it tries to kill you, I'll kick its ass," Roier swears.
He squeezes Cellbit's hand once and offers a lackluster smile.
Cellbit's heart twists in his chest. Oh, Roier...
-
The night's dream starts as usual:
Cellbit opens his eyes to find himself in his childhood bedroom in his childhood body. There aren't any bloodstains on his clothes yet, though that'll change soon enough.
He tries looking out the window, but that isn't what he did that night, so anything beyond the window is covered by the darkness.
There's a growl, and then the creature forms in the shadows near Cellbit's bed. (There are always two beds in his room, but why?)
"What do you want?" Cellbit tries to ask, but that isn't what he did that night.
Instead, and in a squeaky childish voice, he groans and shouts, "This sucks! I can't figure it out!"
He's at his desk. In front of him are multiplication tables he's supposed to be doing for homework, and they're easy enough that Adult Cellbit could do them now, but that isn't what happened that night. So the problems look like random lines and squiggles, and Cellbit's chest hurts, and he can't breathe, and-
"I can't do this!" he shouts, jumping off of his chair and pulling his homework with him. "Mãe!"
He reaches his door, has his hand on the handle, and then... there's the creature by his side shredding the door into pieces with its claws.
Cellbit blinks, and he's an adult again, and he's in a different dream, and he turns to the side and he's face-to-face with-
-
Roier is one of the few people Cellbit has ever heard of that doesn't have a superpower. He seems happy enough without one, but... but Cellbit thinks that he's lying. He isn't angry that Roier is lying, though. No, he understands, because he himself lied about not having powers until they'd been dating for six months.
In the back of his mind, Cellbit has a few ideas of what Roier's secret superpower could be. The only one he says out loud is, "I know what your power is. You're super handsome!"
But, in order, it goes:
Extreme endurance (evidence: goes for long runs every morning and ends up back in bed sweating and tired by the time Cellbit wakes up)
Can always cook the perfect meal (evidence: he's just really good at cooking)
Comfort aura (evidence: Cellbit always feels happy and cozy and safe when Roier is around)
Super strength (evidence: he's really strong)
But, well. None of those quite work, mostly because the majority of them are just early excuses for thinking Roier was attractive back before they started dating.
Tonight as Cellbit brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed, he thinks up a new idea:
Vocal projection (evidence: he's loud as fuck when he's singing in the shower)
Because, yes, Roier is, indeed, in the shower, and he's singing very loudly. But, really, Cellbit wouldn't have him any other way. He's perfect.
"Hey, guapito," Cellbit says after rinsing his mouth out. "I need your help with something?"
Roier cuts his song off with an irritated groan. "Now? I was almost to the chorus!"
"Desculpe. But you're better at naming things than I am, and I need help coming up with something to call the creature in my dream diary."
"You have a dream diary?"
"I'm starting it tonight. I'm going to figure this thing out."
"That's cute!"
Cellbit can see Roier's silhouette shaking with silent laughter through the shower curtain. Wordlessly, he opens the curtain so he can take the shower head down and spray Roier with it.
"It's serious," Cellbit says, ignoring Roier's screeching protests. "I think it's messing with my head."
"Put that down- vete a la verga, fuck!"
Roier bats at Cellbit's hands until Cellbit lowers the shower head.
And then Roier yanks the shower head away from him and sprays him with it.
"Pendejo!" Cellbit shouts. (Not the best swear word, but it's all he could come up with on such short notice.)
He skitters away from the shower and looks, horrified, down at his soaking wet pajamas.
"Whoops," Roier plainly says. "Guess you'll just have to sleep naked tonight."
He grins, and Cellbit hates him. He wants to kiss him soooo badly!
So he does, and it's nice.
A few minutes later as they crawl into bed, Roier says, "Hey. I have a name for your monster."
Cellbit looks at him. "Yeah?"
"Call it Venom. It's, like, dissolving your dreams, right? Like poison?"
Brain poison, hmm.
Cellbit grabs his brand new dream journal off of his bedside table and opens it. Right on the first page is a long, detailed description of his dream. Right below it is a description of the creature as well as a really messy drawing.
'Venom', he writes.
...What a specific descriptoin. "Dissolving your dreams", not quite how Cellbit has been describing it.
He glances at Roier out of the corner of his eye.
Hm.
-
The first part of the dream goes normally.
And then Cellbit is downstairs at the kitchen table with his parents. There's also a girl there, but Cellbit hadn't looked at her face that night, so she doesn't have one now.
"I can't do it," Cellbit whines. He balls his hands into fists and fights the urge to smash his own face into the table.
"You can," his father insists. "You're a smart kid! Why don't we take a break."
He gets up from the table and goes to cut some watermelon.
Cellbit knows what's about to happen next. But he can't close his eyes, because his eyes were open that night.
"Let's try one more time, okay?" his mother asks.
He sniffles and nods.
He looks down at the problems. He can't understand him, he's so stupid. He's so stupid! Why can't he be like [her]?! She's good at math. She's even finished her homework.
His vision starts to blur. He can't see. He can't- he can't breathe oh fuck he can't breathe why can't he breathe what why can't he
A scream.
He looks up and watches his father finish plunging his watermelon-cutting knife into his own stomach.
"Pai!?" the girl screeches.
"I can't do it," Cellbit's mother whispers. "I'm a failure. I can't do it."
She wrestles Cellbit's pencil from his hand and raises it to her eye and-
Cellbit gasps as a clawed hand rips the table into pieces in front of him.
As the dream shifts and as his body turns back into his own, he's pulled by the creature- by Venom- into a loose hug. Its claws dig into his back, but they don't hurt.
He looks up, and he finds himself face-to-face with-
-
Roier was the first person that Cellbit let himself get attached to after he was released from prison.
He'd met Roier by pure chance, and it was love at first sight. He was just so... and he's still so...
"Does this dress make my ass look big?" Roier asks, posing in front of Cellbit in a way that most people would probably call sexy.
...perfect.
They'd met at their mutual friend, Maxo's, club. Roier wasn't on the pole that night, he was instead working the bar, and he and Cellbit hit it off immediately.
The next time Cellbit had been gone, Roier wasn't there, but his 'cousin' was. Melissa, according to Roier, owns half of the club.
And then, seven months later while rummaging through Roier's closet looking for a hoodie to steal, Cellbit had seen one of Melissa's dresses, and, well. Cellbit isn't stupid, okay? But he hadn't said anything because he didn't want to break Roier's trust, and he lives by that idea even now almost two years after their marriage.
If Roier wants to tell him something, he will. It isn't Cellbit's place to push.
Cellbit checks out Roier's ass appreciatively.
"Everything you wear makes your butt look big," he replies.
Roier nods and smiles, more than content with that answer, and he goes to the other side of his dressing room to start putting his makeup on.
Cellbit tries to make it to every one of "Melissa's" shows. He's a good husband, he wants to support Roier in everything he does.
...And he can't sleep anymore unless he has Roier by his side. Does that make him clingy?
He yawns, anyway, and he leans back and slumps in his chair. He might move to the dressing room's sofa, he's exhausted. (He might not be able to sleep without Roier, but he can rest his eyes, at least.)
"Is it okay if I stay back here?" he asks. "I need to lay down."
Roier glances at him through his mirror, concern lining his face. "Are you okay?"
Cellbit waves his concerns aside. "I'm just a little tired. I don't think I'm going to fall asleep, but I don't want to accidentally pass out during your show. That would be bad for business."
Roier's eyebrows furrow, just slightly. "Are you sure?"
"I mean, if it's okay-"
"No!" Roier cuts him off so quickly that he even seems to surprise himself. "I mean. It's okay, but you might not be comfortable. I can try and find you a pillow?"
His voice is shaking, just slightly. Hm.
"Nah, I'm good," Cellbit replies. He shrugs his jacket off and balls it up in his arms. "I've slept in worse places before."
"If- if you're sure, then go ahead."
Something feels... off. Maybe it's just because Cellbit is tired, but something is just. Weird.
But Roier eventually leaves the dressing room, though not without giving Cellbit a big fat messy lipstick-covered kiss on the lips.
Cellbit moves to the sofa, and he pillows his head on his jacket, and he closes his eyes, and he... he falls asleep. Just barely, because his dream is a faded memory around him, but. But.
But Venom isn't there.
-
The third stage of the dream is the coldest. It gnaws at Cellbit's brain, because it was the middle of January when his parents died. He was alone and under the bridge and covered in blood and absolutely freezing.
The dream doesn't ever go on past the bridge. He always just sits there shivering until he wakes up unless Venom shows up.
So he sits, and he shivers, and he waits to wake up. His body is crying, and the tears are freezing to his cheeks. He can't breathe. He can't stop thinking of... of... fuck, who is that girl? The one who chased Cellbit out of the house. The one with no face but the same voice as him.
A police car speeds over the bridge above him. It's going to his house, he knows this. The morning after the bridge, he snuck back towards his house, and the police car was still there. So was the girl. So were his parents bodies, wrapped in sheets and being carried to a Federation-white van.
He's a mistake. [She] was always better than him. [She] never hurt anybody. It isn't fair!
He sobs and buries his face in his knees. He won't sleep tonight, Cellbit remembers staying up all night because he couldn't close his eyes without seeing his parents die in front of him, and he still can't close his eyes without seeing it.
"I'm a monster," he whimpers, the first time he'd ever spoken those words, but not the last. (Later, he would try to embrace them and become the monster the media labeled him as, but it didn't help.)
There's a snarl above him, and then there's Venom standing above him with its fangs bared.
"I-" Cellbit chokes, forced to repeat what he'd said all those years ago. "I need to turn myself in. I have to!"
He stands. Venom moves to block him, grabbing onto his shoulders and holding him in place.
"There have to be healer heroes," Cellbit reasons. "They can fix them."
(They can't, and they won't.)
If possible, Venom looks distraught. The darkness wavers around it, and that's when Cellbit realizes that this is the closest they've really gotten to each other. This close, he can almost make out a face hidden behind Venom's teeth, buried deep within its mouth. But it's too dark, but if he looks hard enough...
Venom steps back, and he tears the bridge apart, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-
-
Roier is cooking dinner tonight, and it smells wonderful. Of course it does, Roier's the one cooking it. Everything he cooks is wonderful, because he's wonderful.
Cellbit sits at the table watching. The kids are all in the other room doing homework, and it's almost peaceful.
Roier slips with the spatula and drops it into the pan. He swears and scoops it out and swears again as the oil inside burns him.
Again, almost peaceful.
Cellbit swiftly stands from his chair and goes to help Roier.
"Here, let me-"
Roier lightly smacks his hand. "Não, não. Go away."
"Mmm, what if I wanna stay with you?"
He slips an arm around Roier's waist and snuggles up against his back. He rests his chin on Roier's shoulder and watches a beautiful smile spread across Roier's face.
"I guess it's fine," Roier sighs, playing up the theatrics. "I guess."
And then it's peaceful once more. Cellbit watches Roier cook, and he pays special attention to Roier's biceps. (Sue him, his husband is hot.)
But then, in the other room, Richarlyson starts shouting:
"This is stupid!"
"Calm down," Bobby drawls. "It's just multiplication, let me see-"
"No, I can do it!"
Cellbit tenses. Roier doesn't seem to notice, and that's fine. It's nothing for either of them to worry about.
"You've literally been working on that for hours," Bobby argues. "Let me see."
"Não!"
Quietly, Pepito pipes up with, "I wanna see!"
"No!" Richarlyson yells. "I can- I can do it!"
"Let me see," Pepito pleads.
(Cellbit can't see.)
"Fuck you, give me the homework," Bobby snaps.
"Fuck you, it's mine!" Richarlyson exclaims.
(Cellbit can't breathe.)
"You literally can't even do it," Bobby mocks. "Give it."
(Cellbit can't-)
The world dissolves around him, and all he can see is his father's body sprawled across the floor and his mother across from him still muttering about how useless she is as he still muttered about how useless he is and he's both 26 years old and eight and he can't breathe and and and and and-
"Cellbit!" he hears. Two warm, gentle hands settle on his cheeks, and he blinks, and he's in his own kitchen. With his husband. Crying.
"It's fine," Roier whispers. He presses his forehead against Cellbit's, eyes slipping shut. "It isn't going to happen again. You're fine. They're fine. It's fine."
Cellbit blinks. The kitchen sounds miles and miles away, but he still heard that, and he knows for certain that he not once has told anybody about the night he killed his parents.
He swallows, fresh tears stinging at his eyes. "What isn't going to happen again?"
Roier tenses, but he doesn't move. His eyes squeeze even further shut, but he doesn't move. His mouth narrows into a pencil-thin line, but he doesn't move.
Cellbit can barely feel his hands, but he still moves his arms to hold Roier around the middle. The kids are still fighting in the background, but... but he can't handle them right now.
In a minute.
"Do we have to talk about it?" Roier hesitantly asks.
Cellbit's answer is immediate: "No. Just... sorry. I'm sorry."
Roier's brow furrows. "'Sorry'? Sorry for what, eh?"
"You shouldn't have to see all... all that. I don't even want to talk about it, but-"
"No, shut up. I'm sorry for sneaking into your dreams every night. It kinda just happens, I don't control it, but... it happened, and you were so sad, and I wanted to help."
Cellbit smiles faintly. His own eyes slip shut, and he can almost not see the bodies this time.
"You do help," he responds. "You help more than you could ever imagine, even outside of the dreams."
He tips his head up to kiss Roier, soft and brief and gentle.
Against Cellbit's lips, Roier mutters, "I can stop."
Cellbit shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Now that I know it's you, I can stop freaking out about a buff scary monster guy haunting me."
Roier huffs out a quiet laugh. "I can try and be less scary, but I don't control that, either."
"It's still you. Just... God, does this make me a monsterfucker?"
Roier's laugh is much louder this time. He bites Cellbit's bottom lip before pulling back.
Cellbit's eyes open, and he looks into Roier's, and he can see the love in them, and he can feel the love in his own.
God-damn, how did he get this lucky?
"Who are you calling a monster?" Roier demands. He pinches Cellbit's side and turns back to the stove. "Fuck you, sleep alone tonight. I don't even care."
Cellbit smiles and invades his husband's space once more. He hooks his chin over Roier's shoulder, and he sighs against Roier's cheek.
"Te amo," he says. He presses a chaste kiss to the side of Roier's jaw.
Roier's ears turn red, but his face betrays no emotion.
"Your breath smells," he says, a smile teasing at his own lips. "Go brush your teeth before we eat."
Cellbit rolls his eyes, but he leaves to go do as he's told if only to try and finish panicking on his own and try and calm down before dinner.
He passes through the living room, and he sees Bobby at the table helping Richarlyson with his homework.
Some things do change, after all.
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mblue-art · 1 month
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drew @owl-bones's lv20 dust!cross boy, strike 💗 (pre-redesign) (new design here!)
silly xtras + simp thoughts under the cut
a shitpost ... ft silly au bc i got attached to how blorbo i made my sona in it...
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im just a lil guye... against big scary tall skeleman constantly burning lots of magic... who easily crumbles to even the smallest bit of affection... he'll be dead on the fukcign gorund when im done w him /j/j/j/j/lh/aff <333
self-indulgent scenario/au surrounding my simping (just like all my other AUs in my head lololol) is called icecube (for now,, 👉👈),, yearned hard during an especially chilly rainy day, and felt so cold i joked that i was turning into ice-- then i got attacked with simp thoughts about how he'd be sooo warm and toasty (,,perfect for the weather,,,/)/////(\;;) and the silly thought of being the ice to his warmth-- his little icecube-- is very /////wwww
i love,, the visual of getting cold chilly hands and just reaching up to cup his cheeks and feel his ambient(?) magic warming my hands up and the whole gesture simultaneously making him melt,,
an icecube can only cool off a magic-burning body so much,, but i hope he enjoys the feeling lots everytime he holds cold lil me to his chest uwu 🧊💙❤️‍🔥
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hazel2468 · 7 months
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Something that I need people to understand, especially on this hellsite. Is that oppression does not depend on who you actually are.
It depends on how the world sees you.
If the world sees you as X identity. They will treat you as X identity, whether you are or not. If the world sees that you are not X identity, but they can use the oppression of X identity as a cudgel to make you act the way they want you to? They will use it.
Oppression is NOT dependent on who you actually are. It depends on how the world sees you. It depends on how people see you and what they decide to put on you because of that.
Oh. And when someone experiences a form of oppression that is NOT based in the reality of who they are? It's still that kind of oppression. It's not "misdirected"- it is still that kind of oppression being leveraged to maintain the current social climate.
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