#Denial of reality

[aventurineswife]

A kinda specific and maybe long but fun idea i had for a req:

Essentially, {and bare w me, i’m half asleep writing this lol} Reader x Sunday, and Reader is a childhood friend of his, who he loved, and someday when they were older, Reader was tragically killed in an incident. Sunday however, in a grief stricken state, decides to rebel against his original goal for the sweetdream paradise (penacony arc reference) and decides to shape it into a dream instead where he’s happily married to Reader, although for the sake of the dream he’s altered their memories. ending is essentially up to you!

{some additional ideas i had if you wanted to, were things like an argument between gopher and sunday, or robin and sunday, in whichever points of the story you wanted}

alternatively, a different Aventurine version would be interesting, mostly w the same set up but Sunday met Reader during Aventurine’s mission on Penacony, liked them, and Aven has to basically fight off the dream and Sunday.

but yeah, that’s pretty much it, everything else is up for creative liberties! i hope this one is at least somewhat interesting lol xx and srry if some of it doesn’t make sense 😓🤍

“Sometimes, the hardest part of letting go is realizing that the dream was never real”

Summary: In the idyllic yet hollow world of Sweetdream Paradise, Sunday crafts a perfect life with you���his lost love, altered memories and all—to escape the sorrow of reality. But as others begin to break through his illusion, and you start to remember fragments of a different fate, the dream begins to fracture. Torn between love and the harshness of truth, Sunday must finally face the choice to let you go, or remain forever in his self-made paradise.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, unrequited love, grief, loss, dreamscape, bittersweet ending, altered memories, memory manipulation, moral dilemma, angst, hurt/comfort, alternate reality, surrealism, slow unraveling, denial of reality.

Warnings: Grief, themes of manipulation, psychological trauma, implied death of Reader, reality distortion, emotional conflict, bittersweet resolution, morally ambiguous decisions.

A/N: Don't worry, anon! I appreciate all the details, the more details the more I can try to understand what you want exactly! Though I probably changed some bits of it here 😪

Sunday had always been proud of his role within Penacony, the creator of Sweetdream Paradise—a place where sorrow could be stilled, where suffering dissolved into an endless realm of serene dreams. It was a comforting reality he believed people needed, a soft oblivion to cradle them. Yet, in the depths of his mind, his peaceful philosophy hid a darker purpose, shaped by the ache of a loss he could never endure.

You had been his friend, a constant light in his youth, a companion who grounded his dreams. For as long as he remembered, you were there, with laughter that melted his worries and eyes that could see through his layered philosophies. But the day you were lost, taken too soon in a tragic incident, the world itself had hollowed out for him. The pain of your absence haunted him like a shadow, feeding a grief so deep that he was willing to defy his original purpose. In that moment of desolation, he turned Sweetdream Paradise into something far more personal—a realm where you still lived, where you loved him just as much as he had loved you.

In this new dream, Sunday made alterations. He reshaped your memories, softened the sharp edges of reality, and wove a seamless history where you had married him, where together, you built a life free of tragedy. In this dream, he could protect you eternally, shielded by his crafted illusion.

You woke to sunlight filtering through the windows, lying beside Sunday as the golden morning glow danced over his features. His eyes opened, catching you with a familiar warmth, and he reached over, brushing his fingers across your cheek.

"Good morning." he murmured, voice low and rich, as if savoring the simplicity of that greeting.

Every day was like this—a gentle, perfect rhythm that never seemed to break. You didn’t remember a world outside of this home, this life with him. And as you looked at him, you felt safe, loved, yet there was always a faint unease, like a fragment of something forgotten.

But the days went on, filled with laughter and love. Sunday seemed devoted to making sure you never doubted this world, his every word a reassurance that here, you were whole and happy.

One evening, as Sunday worked quietly at his desk, a visitor shattered the peace of his dream. It was Robin, standing just inside the doorway, her expression dark with a kind of wary sadness.

“Brother, you need to stop this,” she said, folding her arms. Her gaze fixed on him, seeing through the veneer of the dream. “This isn’t right. This… this paradise you’re keeping isn’t reality.”

Sunday straightened, his face hardening at her words. “Who are we to deny people peace, Robin? Haven’t we seen enough pain? Haven’t they?” His voice broke slightly, the facade slipping as he glanced toward where you sat by the fire, unaware of the intensity in his voice. He softened, as if trying to protect the dream from any trace of discord.

“You’re keeping people trapped. Yourself included. And for what? A fantasy? Is that really what they would have wanted?” Robin’s voice grew more urgent, her frustration showing. “They’re gone. You have to accept that.”

Sunday’s fists clenched at her words, every fiber in his body resisting the truth. “How could you understand?” he whispered. “In this place, they’re alive. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m giving them peace. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Robin stared at him, her gaze a mix of pity and sorrow. “At what cost, Brother? You’re keeping yourself from moving on, holding them hostage in a world that isn’t even real.”

In an alternate version of Penacony, Sunday’s paradise faced an even stranger twist. Aventurine, the cunning Stoneheart known for his strategic mind, was on his own mission in Sweetdream Paradise, seeking information that only Sunday could provide. But as he delved into the fabric of this dreamscape, he found himself questioning the reality around him, the shimmering dream where Sunday lived an idyllic life with you.

Aventurine confronted Sunday one night, his tone half-amused, half-concerned. “Interesting setup you have here,” he remarked, eyes gleaming with curiosity as he took in the flawless surroundings. “I almost believed it myself… almost. But what happens when the dream can’t hold itself together anymore?”

Sunday’s gaze narrowed, his protective instincts flaring. “What do you mean by that?”

Aventurine shrugged, his gaze flicking to you, sitting quietly, oblivious to the tension. “Everyone in this place… it’s all too perfect, isn’t it? You’re clinging to a memory, one that doesn’t belong here.”

In a rare flash of anger, Sunday stepped forward, his eyes darkening. “This isn’t any of your concern, Aventurine. Leave.”

Aventurine met his glare, his smirk slipping. “You think you’re the only one who’s loved and lost? Reality has its flaws, Sunday. It’s messy, painful… but it’s real. This—this is just a prison you’re keeping yourself in.”

Sunday’s voice trembled, caught between anguish and fury. “Better a beautiful dream than a brutal reality.”

Aventurine’s gaze softened for a brief moment, though he couldn’t abandon his sardonic tone. “But at least in reality, they would have remembered you for who you are, not a god in a gilded cage.”

In the end, it was you—within the dream—who finally confronted him, feeling the intangible pull of memories you didn’t recognize. “Sunday… something doesn’t feel right,” you whispered one night, as he sat beside you. “I keep… remembering pieces of something different, something that feels like it wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

Sunday’s face grew pale, fear creeping into his eyes. “No, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re here. We’re together. Isn’t that enough?”

But as you searched his eyes, you could feel the truth breaking through, the dream trembling under the weight of reality. “Sunday, what are you not telling me?”

He looked away, his heart shattering as he realized he couldn’t keep you here forever. Slowly, he whispered, “I… I just wanted to keep you safe. To give us a life that didn’t end in sorrow.”

With a trembling hand, you reached out, brushing a tear from his cheek. “It’s okay to let go. You have to keep going… even if it means letting me go.”

Sunday’s shoulders shook, the dream beginning to unravel around them, pieces of the illusion fading as he looked into your eyes one last time. “I… I don’t know if I can.”

But in the final moments, he felt your hand slip away, leaving him alone in the vast silence of his own grief. And as he awoke from his dream, Sunday found himself in a world still plagued by loss, his heart hollow yet somehow freer. Though you were gone, he understood, at last, that he had to face reality, no matter how painful it was.

And in that pain, he found a fragile hope—a sliver of light breaking through the dark.

*cutely posts all my drafts that have been dying to see the light* 😇💖

[furiousgoldfish]

abuser: spends years meticulously isolating, grooming, trapping and sabotaging victim to the point where they don't know they're abused, blame themselves, think abuse is just normal, feel no confidence about any of their skills, have no one and no way of survival if they escape, and they're aware their lives are threatened if they try

society: well why didn't the victim just leave if they didn't like it :/

[philosophicalconservatism]

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

George Orwell, 1984

[yellowtiebite]

Okay it seems I have gotten quite a number of questions since the last time.

Well you know the deal my Owlets. Lets get answering.

1. How long have you been watching toh?

Since the season 2 premiere.

2. What is your fav Chonny Jash song?

Two Wuv is my personal favourite but if you mean outside the covers then Mr. Hyde Jive and End the dance.

3. What is your fav Voltarie song?

Well kinda a hard one but a tie between The Chosen and Wall of pride

4. What is your fav Will wood song?

Huh, many song requests it seems. It is Against the kitchen floor.

5. How did you get into toh?

Lilly Orchard talked about it and it sounded fun so I tought why not.

6: Are you delusional?

Very much yes.

7. Is that a Bug Fables pfp.

Yeah, I love that game.

8. Which ToH charachter do you relate to the most?

Probably Kikimora and Belos. I guess Luz too but she is a good person.

9. What other cartoons do you like

Penguins of the Madagascar, Helluva Boss, Gravity falls, Deflection on insanity, Kipo and Inside Job are my favs.

10. When is the next Beleda fic?

It is in the works, I know I have been slow with it but do not worry, I have no idea what I am doing.

Well that is it my owlets. As usual be free to ask questions in the comments or just message me. Preferably on Tumblr but I guess Ao3 and Twich could not hurt. See ya

[kachimera]

Every single science denier on this post owns op paid vacations and a free visit to therapy

Trying to get people to realize birds are full on actual no holds barred dinosaurs on the internet is like playing a constant game of whack-a-mole

The game never ends there's just another mole to whack

whack whack whack

[screamingeyepress]

In “Dead Airwaves Episode 4: Plague Studies,” history’s deadliest disease can’t convince two aristocrats to face reality. They’d rather believe absurd plots and nonsense than acknowledge the black plague’s presence. It’s bleak, it’s funny, and it skewers the lengths people go to avoid discomfort. Don’t miss this twisted comedic gem! https://www.screamingeyepress.com/podcasts/dead-airwaves-ep-4-plague-studies/

[thearbourist]

Adventures in Frustration - Self Identified Feminists Can't Do Feminism

These “feminists” fail the very first test of feminism. They cannot define what a woman is. I just goes downhill from there.

[mde-creative-video]

People can deceive themselves

[khr-guilded-cage]

Nana is a such a complex character, I wish we had more of her.

She was 19/20 when she had Tsuna, far too young, don't seen to have many friends or family, higher education or happy beyond housewife things. Has serious mental illness and love issues.

I still think she's a abusive b*tch. Just a interesting one.

[reegis]

Listen. I am obsessed w brian and nastya being friends, to the point i went into a fugue state and wrote 40k in three months back in 2020 about them being friends. If you have any extra time or energy, do you have any doodles of them being buddies?

besties tell besties when theyr about to yeet themselves into the void 💖

[heylittleriotact]

No wonder Emmrich.exe stopped working when Rook asks if the tea in the memorial garden at the end of their outing was set up to impress them.

Death-man brought Rook to this place to try and help them sort through some of the feelings they need to confront in order to healthily mourn the death of someone who presumably meant a great deal to them.

The “light refreshment” was waiting at the end as a deliberate part of Emmrich’s care as a death professional. When I was in funerals we had coffee, tea, and freshly baked cookies waiting for every family that came in for arrangements, visitations, services, or after-care meetings: they’re comforting little gestures that people tend to really lean into during a difficult time.

So yeah. Given the circumstances and the reason for the outing to begin with, it would be a lot like someone showing up at the funeral home to make arrangements for their mum, looking at my spread of coffee and cookies and being like “Ooooh… are you hitting on me? 👀”

I would have had the exact same reaction Emmrich did lmao

[i-am-church-the-cat]

*Oscar and Logan are deep in conversation*

Lando: What are they fighting about?

George: Whether or not they should let Alex watch them fuck

Lando: Which sides are they on?

George: Logan’s on the ‘let him watch’ side, Oscar apparently wants to watch Alex and Logan fuck

Lando: …

Lando: Are they playing rock-paper-scissors?

[rocketbirdie]

furthering my understanding of the SOLDIER helmet so i can more accurately depict my bucketheaded blorbo.

my research has led me to an enlightening conclusion: i can, should, and will continue to do whatever i want, actually

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

"Abraham Lincoln once asked an audience how many legs a dog has if you count the tail as a leg. When they answered 'five,' Lincoln told them that the answer was four. The fact that you called the tail a leg did not make it a leg." -- Thomas Sowell

You can't gaslight reality by trying to redefine it.

[sofipitch]

Nona the Ninth explores the question of "what would you be like if X hadn't happened" because that's what it's doing, when Palamedes and Camilla are wondering if Nona is Harrow or Gideon they are thinking this this Harrow or Gideon if they hadn't been born on the Ninth. And a bit of Kiriona's meanness makes me wonder if this crueler version is in some part because she is God's daughter (like I think a lot of her anger at the events of the past few months informs a lot of her attitude however how much is also an interesting question). But at the end of the day no matter how clearly you can picture that parallel future, Alecto only as Nona, all the characters honestly, you can't go back, there is no rewind button, the only way to always be Nona is to die. Which is what Gideon did, she died as Gideon, loved by at least her mother and Harrow (as her cavalier), she died as Harrow's hero cavalier whom Harrow would always be thankful for for the rest of her days, and then was torn back into a reality that denies her all of that

[vyctorianbyron]

Covid is still killing more Americans than all opioids combined, each week (2024). We are supposed to "go back to normal" and "don't worry about Covid", despite it having a higher death toll on average. Unlike opioid drugs, Covid can effect literally anyone.

Even the vaccinated are still at some risk of infection, though the new updated shots are much better at preventing breakthrough infections. Why so many in government and the media are willing to ignore the reality of Covid when it's still worse than the opioid crisis is beyond me.