#jellynut

[chrysanthemum-draws]

| 2 | So I did another thing

@jellynut your au has consumed my lifeeeeee

Also why did this take me over three hours, it’s literally just a sketch -_-

[deer-hearted]

Okay, ages ago I had an idea that was quite similar to @jellynut 's AU, but since it wasn't used like I intended it to, I decided to write it down now as a form of a gift.

I had it in my head for, like 7 years. Now it's your turn to get stuck with it.

Do demons have dreams?

He isn't sure when exactly has it all started, but it had to be something minuscule, not important enough to notice at all. Laughs that were just a tad more loud than usual, sudden waves of anger or annoyance he paid no attention to: he was a moody old geezer, after all, what's so special about it?

But it was special, in a way he absolutely didn't want it to be. Because the estranged emotions rolled out a red carpet, and the dreams followed suit. Places he had never been to, worlds he could never even try to imagine washed over his mind every night like waves licking the board of their boat. Some dreams were light as a feather, some left him nauseous and with a strong desire to take a shower. A crustless sandwich on a spotless white plate. Creatures with faces that didn't even look like faces. The wheel of a fancy car gripped tight by his own fingers. Strange magic rituals performed in a smoky haze. Piles of human hearts, apparently fresh-cut and still bleeding. A young man wearing a genuine smile and hope for the brighter future on a face identical to his own.

Oh, they were not just dreams. And Stanley knew who had to be the owner: sure enough, their mom made them sandwiches too, but not so... flat. Yeesh.

He had punched that triangle bastard so hard, that something must have started to seep through cracks. Something that could either poison them both, or, possibly, give him the upper hand.

Stanley sucks in a deep breath, staring at the waters below. Here we go.

"You there?"

Sharp pain strickes him right between his eyes to remind — yes, he is. He's always there, like some sort of parasite, waiting desperately to be surgically removed.

Oh, that's new. Now you wanna hear me? What's the matter, sailor? Got bored on that teeny-tiny boat of yours? Finally built the gut to eat your twin and don't know where to begin with? I could gladly instruct you, you know.

What? No. Concentration is the key. His fingers clench into fists tighter, knuckles turning pale white. He has to try it, he's running out of options. But could the parasite be even reasoned with?

"I have seen your dreams."

Pause. His breath hitches — and then turns into unwanted laughter, echoing a much louder one from the inside of his mind, shaking him to his very core.

No you haven't. I get it, you have been forgetting a lot of stuff lately, so let me get this clear for you: I AM A DREAM DEMON. How would it look like if I myself had dreams? Who would've haunted them? Me?

"Right, so instead of that abracadabra our subconscious brings up you see your own memories stuck on repeat, no?"

Pause. Waves hit the boat again and again.

Nonsense. Now you're just making stuff up about me. Obsessed much?

"How else would I know about that wonderful "All 70s Greatest Hits" sing-along you had with my brother?"

No response. Disgust coils inside him heavily, empowered by a single fact: all of it must be true indeed, then. But he must go on.

"He'd never tell me about that shit. You're inside my head, smartpants. You can check for yourself."

This time the deafening silence is different, for it is pregnant with meaning. Bill had no idea. He didn't know he knew and, what's more important, what he knew and if there's more.

He hit the nail. All he has to do now — to pull it through. Stanley grits his teeth with angry determination that might not be entirely his own and spits into the waves below.

"Alright, listen here, ya mama's boy. If I tell Sixer about you..."

Pain blinds him again, forcing to hiss. It's always ugly when Bill wants to emphasize his point.

You're not going to, we both know it.

"Shut it! WHEN I tell Sixer about you... I don't have to fill him on everything, ya know."

If the subsiding pain doesn't indicate Bill is listening intently now, he doesn't know what else to make of it.

"You can keep your awful memories to yourself, and whatever it is that you felt, too. That is — if you leave my memories alone. No messing with them, no deleting, no overwriting, no nothing. One slip up, and I stomp your goddamn pride into the ground. Am I clear?"

He's so tired, he wants to dive right into the ocean so the cold waves could wash away all the pain, the stiffness in his body, the images that are now bound to reside in his mind forever. But he also won, because the voice in his head is now steel-clean, and the words feel like a searing brand.

It's a deal, then.

[womeninfictionandirl]

Sisu by JellyNut

[beesgav]

doodles for @redfurt and @blujarts (and an oc of @jellynut ‘s)

[jellynut]

Check out my new YouTube video where I redraw panels from Manga that deserves more love! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcygDjlwkkk&feature=youtu.be

[avacados-art]

So I commissioned @jellynut for an icon of my bnha oc and I LOVE it!! :D ❤️

[artandaskthismountaintownarchive]

Commission for @kanoii-chi! Hope you like it!

[chrysanthemum-draws]

“But trust me, I’m still on your mind…”

au by @jellynut

I AM GOING CRAZY OVER THIS MAN