#and a lot more than I planned to write

[northern-passage]

clementine

[aroaceleovaldez]

full on feel like pjo tv s2 is not gonna hold up so they need to drag as much attention to the series as they can by using nico as a sock puppet w tsats2

im fully expecting the show to go the way of the movies. it doesnt help Sea of Monsters is almost unanimously the least favorite book of the first series. People frequently forget it even exists or what happens in it, especially more casual fans.

Heck, just look at how little fanfare the second season has gotten so far as compared to the build up to s1. I wouldn't be surprised if s2 totally flops. It would be a little funny.

[crimson-nail]

i have been cooking an over-complicated roleswap au for. a VERY long time

[cocksley-and-catapult]

your handwriting is really good

[cloud-starlight]

Sniperspy in my mind (and partly in the comics) have this solidarity of being complete Loners in comparison to their team. I see this kind of compatibility with them where they can finally have someone with the same “get it done efficiently” mindset that a lot of the other mercs don’t have or have less of.

The ISTJ INTJ solidarity is real and they encompass it perfectly. Spy is like *this guy is so weird and has no class but I can totally get behind his dedication to efficiency* and Sniper is like *this guy is frivolous and attention-grabbing but he is an expert at keeping his emotional distance* and like. they are both attracted to eachother because of that. they have finally found this other person who they can see themselves in.

but then they have the problem of no attachments. but… what happens when theres nothing about the persons character/personality you disagree with? sure there are differences in lifestyle but it’s not too drastic. Sure Sniper likes hunting while Spy would prefer looking through clothes magazines, but there’s no difference in moral lifestyle. It’s like, theres finally someone they can both let their guard down around because neither of their guards *actually* go down. They’ll still be alert, no matter the situation.

so, they go on a few couple road-trips around the west coast/midwest. they find ease around eachother, they have similar views, they can make fun of the same people, and they can find an escape from their jobs.

Then, here comes the problem for Spy. Keeping yourself detached has always been a typical strategy for spies, but does it really apply to everyone? Theres this dedication to keeping yourself a shrouded mystery, because no matter how earnest someone says they are when keeping secrets-you can never completely tell. And hes always had this way in relationships (romantic or platonic) where he’s with someone, then he cuts it off. no questions answered, no calls taken, no letters returned to sender. He’s gone. It’s the way of things as a spy, right? The job is done, the relationships are done. But, is this a dance he’s going to be wanting to do until he dies? Theres only so much time in a man’s life. (and a smoking one at that, but i digress)

He likes fancy clothes, he likes chance, he likes problem-solving, and he likes planning. He likes it so much that he’s willing to put his own life in the hands of his own mind, and his abilty to act on instinct.

Now, with this new indefinite contract where he battles alongside 8 other men in various locations across the globe in a decade old fued between two brothers, he wonders if he’ll even need to *cut the ties* of this job/era in his life.

he has one of the most innovative and smartest doctors at his dispense to heal any disease or wounds he has, he has good pay, and freedom to be his own person *in the most mysterious way possible* and he gets to boss around and insult his coworkers with no repercussions from the employer. He lives in a constant state of planning against his own clone! (which he believes to be the best candidate to fight against)

So when this like-minded wilderness man comes to save him from his social boredom, should he stop himself from forming an attachment? It’s only human after all, emotional bonds are a pillar in human nature. But, is it worth it to give into something he hasn’t been with for at least 20 years just because he *thinks* he won’t have any other job? He truly believes, if he does allow himself to have strong emotional connection with Sniper, he may never be able to cut the tie, he’ll get too attached.

Now, for Sniper, there’s this dilemma where he’s never had a relashionship to cut off. His parents passed pretty recently, and he’s feeling lonely! How are you supposed to brush off the feeling that you could have a genuine connection with someone like you? Maybe… just keep up the battlefield rivalry and keep getting pissed at this annoying invisible guy who keeps ruining your shots by stabbing you in the back, but then, theres this belief that he’ll always be there to mess up your plans, and that is still a sense of security. How is it that Sniper should have no connections strong enough to deter him from planning to kill them, but still mentally function as a person?

In my mind, Sniper and Spy found eachother at the perfect spot for connection, they are both starting to question their own needs, even if it’s in different ways. Sniper lost something, and Spy hasn’t had something for a long time, but is just now questioning it.

It’s a scary dance for both of them, of course, but it’s not a dance to easily keep yourself from doing. It’s the most emotionally invested either of them have been in a romantic relationship, so how you just end it? how do you just say “no, no more.” and then see the person you know you love on the battlefield and not say anything?

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Obtaining Killer)

Hey guys! Through with a bot of stuff for the day and I have a sneaking suspicion that this stress headache will not leave me until I finish some projects for work, so I *may* be m.i.a. for a hot second until they stop.

In the meantime, I want to drop this! (Unedited, unrefined, raw off the slab style)

Andddd @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens ! Hello! (Mutzelputz if u see this, the tags weren't working for some reason, I apologize.)

Hope y'all enjoy!

Ccino had convinced him to leave the castle. After nearly a year had passed since his last true public appearance. Since he'd stolen the apple from his brother. Nine months had passed since he'd sent Dream away. He tried not to think about it.

Nightmare had been finding out a lot about his magic. How it made him jittery, and how he felt like he understood so much more. How it made him deeply paranoid, quick to react.

How it made people listen to him.

He figured it was because he was scary now. The negative magic condensed over every inch of his bone wasn't exactly appealing, and the extra limbs which had sprouted from his spine now acted like his own personal weapons. If someone didn't listen, didn't give him an answer he liked, the limbs moved without him even thinking.

It had taken time to learn to better control them. Even now, they writhed in his wake. His nerves expressed through their lashing and twitching as they hovered just above the ground.

The streets weren't exactly crowded.

Upon word of the King's arrival to this small providence, Nightmare had found that many people fled from his path. His travel party of several soldiers, and himself on horseback. He'd always wanted to ride horses. The traitor twin was someone that every citizen wished to avoid.

Ccino had coaxed him outside with promises of fresh air. Apparently there were promising young members of the city guard that Ccino swore would be wonderful future knights. Young warriors for him to bring up loyally under his name, no fear of betrayal.

It had made sense, at the time, but Nightmare hadn't chosen to recruit any of them.

It wasn't to say he didn't want to. Several of the humans and monsters were very talented, and he did his best to give them praise, but he could tell. None of them wanted to work under him. They didn't like him. Rejection and hatred that had pierced him immediately, he could practically taste it.

Ultimately, they would do better here in their hometown. A place they were passionate about protecting, and with people they cared for. Night would not try to mold promising soldiers into his perfect guard. No matter how smart of an idea it may have been.

And so he'd moved on.

Night had visited several smaller shops, onces which couldn't afford to refuse him, and he bought some fabrics, a trinket, some small thing from each place he stopped by. He payed exactly the price he needed for each thing. He wouldn't bribe his people, either. The best he could do would be to remain neutral.

He did discover, against all odds, that he was enjoying this day out. Ccino was, in fact, usually correct about this sort of thing.

The travel had been enriching. Almost exciting. He'd never gotten out of the castle much at all, this was all new and excitingly mundane.

Good things do not last forever.

It was almost sunset when he noticed it. Torches being set up, a platform prepared. A crowd gathering.

An execution, came the mutter from one of his soldiers. Though he recognized the set-up, Night had never been in attendance to an execution. He was morbidly curious. The crowd held such a contempt. A broiling hunger for blood.

He wished he'd wheeled his horse away when a few people were ushered out of a nearby building.

The prison, maybe?

There weren't many of them. Nightmare dismounted his steed, and much to the dismay of the soldiers at his side, he found himself sinking. Into the growing shadows cast by the dying sun.

He re-emerged beside the stage, where the few people were lined up. Ready for death by hanging.

That trick wasn't one that Nightmare quite understood yet, but he was always drawn to feelings of intense negativity. He knew that, now. Something about these prisoners were bothering him, even at a distance, and he found himself more curious as he stood before them.

His guards, at the back of the crowd, hadn't seemed to figure out where he had gone. He had the time, now, to loom over the small group of prisoners.

The city guards, the trained ones, had likely seen him earlier at their headquarters. They did not speak even a word against him as he stared.

Nightmare stared at these faces.

A dog monster, scrappy and scarred, black fur clashing against a few patches of white. One of her ears was missing.

A pair of humans, both men, one with long, curly red hair and another with short-cropped red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Maybe they were brothers?

A skeleton. His sockets dripped with black magic, and his soul was a piercing crimson, just infront of his chest.

A flame monster, small and stout. Their flames a flickering green and purple. One of their eyes had a patch over it.

Nightmare was not great at determining emotions yet. He was hardly versed in his own feelings, but there had been improvement recently. Understanding new emotions had been coming more naturally to him.

Sometimes it hurt, but he was learning.

Now, past the blossoms of a headache, he felt a bit baffled as he subconsciously picked through the negativity these monsters exuded. Their fear. Their pain. Their loss, and their anger.

Oh.

"Only one of you is guilty."

He'd said it without thinking, practically announcing it with a voice that still felt unnaturally deep. A voice which rattled his ribcage and seemed to force past the barrier of darkness around him.

The group before him seemed startled. Confused.

Well, all but the skeleton, who seemed to only raise his skull slightly. As though just noticing Nightmare was there.

"How could you have possibly been jailed in the first place?" He muttered a bit quieter to himself.

He knew, deep down, that there were many, many rules in place for situations like this. Laws which he could challenge. People he could speak to. He could appoint members of his court to each of these people and try to earn their innocence through the rites of the law.

Then again, he remembered the rage of the crowd. The frustration of the people waiting to see these killings take place.

He didn't know what to do.

Now the prisoners, especially the two humans, were staring at him hopefully. He'd managed to shatter the negativity a bit. He believed them. He knew this was wrong.

"I don't know..."

The mutter came again unprompted.

These people would not have the means to repay him for his help. He couldn't just waive fees, or risk his court turning against him. He couldn't afford enemies being made so close to his inner circle.

He couldn't just leave them, though. Not after he'd seen the injustice of it all.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he was drawn out of it by a snickering laugh.

"Just set them free." A voice followed, "You are our King, aren't you?"

Nightmare then found his eyes drawn to the skeleton.

The others had eased themselves away from him. He stood, now, almost alone. He seemed unbothered by speaking up, his sockets held in an almost lazy posture. Tension going completely un-held.

He grinned up as the King, and seemed to watch contentedly as the thought settled in Nightmare's skull.

He could do that. Simply waive their charges. Pardon them. He could do that, surely. Many royals had done it before him for less certain terms. His mother had plenty of times.

"And you are guilty. You'll still be hanged. You know this, don't you?" Nightmare asked.

That was when the Skeleton's lazy sockets seemed to tighten with a sort of glee. Some hidden joke Nightmare wasn't privy to.

"Hmm." This was a poor choice. This was a bad decision. "Tell me, quickly, how you came to be here. Before I proceed?"

Nightmare didn't know why he was asking. He was... curious. Just like he had always been.

Very few people would ever speak straight to his face. Ccino, that was the only one who'd done it since his change. Since the prophecy. This skeleton had done it. He'd spoken when no one else could muster even a plea.

The silence he seemed to bring to every room. Broken, just briefly.

The skeleton stared at him a moment.

"Name's Killer, your majesty." The tone was mocking. "A while back a buddy of mine got into hot water, and I decided to help them out. Now, plenty of bodies later, I'm the one stuck on death row."

Simple. An admission of guilt.

Nightmare stared at him some more.

Finally, it seemed his frantic guards had noticed him. Found him. They rushed to his side, though not as fast as he would've liked. He could feel the frustration seeping from each armored body around him.

"You don't have an aversion to it," Nightmare voiced, "Killing, I mean."

Killer nodded. Unashamed.

It felt strangely calm, still. Perhaps it was because the crowd was still chattering. They likely hadn't noticed Nightmare at all.

The king turned to the city guard, still stood on the steps. "Free these four people. My judgement decrees them as not-guilty."

And, before any time could pass in the slightest. "Killer, I would like you to accompany me, before you abscond."

He'd noticed it. Killer had undone his cuffs before their conversation. Completely freeing himself from his weak imprisonment.

Killer seemed amused at the concept of sticking around to chat.

"If you would, I would like to recruit your services at my castle. I need a man who is willing to kill. And kill swiftly." Ccino said to establish an image. It was obvious now that his reputation would remain in the gutter, no matter what choices he made. He was not Dream.

Killer's sockets narrowed.

"And what would I get for being your little hunting dog?" Again, it was bold. It was new.

Nightmare was sure his expression hadn't changed since he'd come before the group. That same angry glare that sat permanently along his skull. The magic had an image to project.

His tendrils flicked, slightly.

"Payment, room, Fresh meals, and any other amenities you may like, so long as it does not break our treasury." He replied, "All I ask is that you simply obey me. And Me alone."

Not true. He'd probably ask for him to listen to Ccino as well. Once he knew for certain he'd stay.

Killer seemed to be thinking. He eyed they king, up and down. He looked to each of the guard around the king. The ones who were back in position now, though Nightmare could feel their annoyance. Their confusion.

Then Killer turned.

Then he turned back.

"Mm. Can't be worse than the ol' noose." Killer replied. "Funny way to run a country, my king. Hiring the first murderer you spot?"

Nightmare didn't humor that with a response. He was honestly shocked the skeleton had even agreed.

Though, all of that negativity had been swapped out for a glee. Something deep in Killer had changed during their brief interaction. A hope. Night could barely grasp the edges of its existence with his subconscious. But it was there.

.

He ignored the crowds as they grew confused. He ignored the worry pouring from the criminals as he had them released and informed them of their pardon.

He did not ignore when his guards told someone to keep their distance. He glanced up. Killer was standing beyond the guards, looking bored.

Nightmare, trusting fool he was, didn't even ask a guard to watch him to ensure he stayed put.

"Stand down." He ordered the guard, who begrudgingly allowed the skeleton to smugly slip past.

His tendrils kept the monster at a distance Night preferred all on their own. He seemed to take the hint.

"They're all gonna be dead by morning, you know." Killer voiced easily.

Nightmare turned to him, confused. What did he mean by that? He'd pardoned them?

"Are you deaf? The crowd wanted us dead, especially me." He chuckled, "Leaving them here is definitely going to get them killed. If the crowd doesn't rip them apart the second you leave, then it'll happen at night. There will be no witnesses."

Oh... Night hadn't fathomed that these people could turn on the innocent once declared. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Did they have a home to return to? A family they put at risk?

The noose was a fast death, but being murdered? That would've been so much worse.

He could tell, by the way they evaded looking at Killer, that he was right. Nightmare would be sentencing them to a new sort of death if he did it like this.

But he didn't have time for a trial. Or several. The sun was going down, abd Ccino expected him back. The castle needed him present, or they might revolt.

Someone might hurt Ccino.

Oh, he was such a poor ruler. He did not know his people well enough. How he lamented the lessons Dream had taken about crowds and current issues abd how to be likeable.

Night didn't know how to handle this. He was still learning!

A trembled in his hand. He tucked the limb quickly away from where it had been lightly clutching his tunics thick fabric, now hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Killer is right. It won't be safe here, for any of you." He spoke. Thank the gods it didn't sound as shaken as he felt. "I extend an offer to you all. You may stay here, or you may come take up positions among my staff back at the castle. Unlike Killer, I do not expect any crime from you, but you will be paid and housed."

The offer was met with a roar of frustration from the crowd, Nightmare chose to allow his guards to handle it. He watched, carefully, as the four looked between eachother.

The brothers agreed first. (They introduced themselves as brothers as they knelt in thanks.) Then the Dog. She said she had no family left to watch over, starting a new life would be for the best.

The flame refused, saying they would leave town by morning, and try to stay safe.

And so, Nightmare left the town with four new party members. Each had been provided a horse, each tied to one of the guards. Aside from Killer, whose steed was held personally by Nightmare.

He figured Ccino would chew him out for this, for bringing criminals into the castle when he was sent to collect soldiers, but Nightmare had a good feeling about these ones.

They did not hate him. Or fear him. He was helping them. And it felt good.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Gosh, do I love discovery writing. The freedom. The sense of play. The way you have to hold the material lightly and follow where it leads, never being afraid to scrap things that don't work or to rewrite to emphasize things that do. You have the fun of discovering the story you're writing rather than the frustration of being unable to capture the ideas in your head. This way might wind up taking ages, but it makes the writing process such a joy.

[basiltonpitch]

hm. something about how mike had proven time and time again that he is observant and intelligent and competent. that he's the party's unofficial leader. that he's come up with so many of the plans and schemes to fight the upside down and to save everyone etc etc. but y'all will still act like he's totally completely helpless, can't tie his own shoes let alone save the fucking world, just. totally and completely mischaracterize him for what? is it just because of s4? bc he wasn't useful to the supernatural plot for the majority of the season? bc you're stuck on "what finn wolfhard does with his eyes" and nothing else? bc finn said mike was clueless during s4? please enlighten me why do you take this intelligent boy and turn him into a helpless idiot i am begging for some explanation

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu - On the other side

:3 :3 :3

Guess who is back already?!

Not with the normal cast though :3

No I had an idea for the another person in this AU.

Anyone wondering how Dream is going? :D

So this one is a bit different then all the other installments and don't expect these often as the main focus is on the gang and their now babybones boss. But this one I thought would be fun.

Welcome. To Dream dealing with this (the sometiny changes to the multiverse. A God can't lose his status without it affecting those around him after all :3)

First: here Prev: here Next: here

We good? We good. We are unedited and unbeta'ed as always.

oh shit @spotaus I actually forgot you that time. sorry fam (they gave me the original prompt which is why they keep getting added every update. They are stuck with me now)

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

The sun feels so warm on his bones. Dream lays by the roots of his mother. Enjoying the warm light of the never ending late spring sun which warms his bones. His mother's voice, always loving and so proud of him.

The only thing that would make this moment better would be his brother near him. But he went to wash up a while ago.

Which is okay It isn't. where is nightmare? He will just wait right here for when he comes back.

Nightmare always joins him again. except that one time. The time when it mattered.

Dream loves his brother so much, and Nightmare loves him! Not anymore, not after everything

Dream sighs in the warm light and looks to the side. The village lays in the distance. Beautiful and lively and so so welcome of him!

Rememver your duty my son. You are meant for great things. Never forget that.

Dream hums happily as he looks back up at the branches "I know mom! I will be like you and be a great warrior and bringer of hope!" he smiles up.

A laugh in the air that sounds like a bell A bringer of balance my dear son. Remeber. Too much of one will always spell the end for one.

Dream hums as he enjoys the soft sunlight and happiness he feels in his soul.

He just wishes his brother was here. he wants his brother back, that is all he wants.

oh. I think Nightmare is back from washing himself

Dream blinks his sockets open and looks over. Near the forest edge stands Nightmare. In his purple clothes and with a small silver crown on his skull. Dream smiles and waves from his spot "Nighty! Over here!"

But Nightmare doens't move. He just watches him.

Dream frowns as he sits up "Nighty?"

The sunlight is gone as an ominious rumble is heard overhead. The light feeling in him disappears as he looks back at Nightmare "Nighty! i know it is scary but you need to get over here!" Normal trees can't protect them from thunder and lightning! Their mother can.

Nightmare just continues to stare at him from a distance. Even now Dream thinks he looks tired.

Drema raises to his feet.

His mother's voice fills his skull Dream don't go. It isn't worth the risk.

Dream shakes his skull and leaves the save shadow and cover of his mother. Running towards his brother. He needs to get to him. He can't be too late again. Not when he has this chance to reach him in time.

Dream watches as Nightmare remains rooted in place. Lightning flashes overhead and loud thunder follows right away. Drema flinches but keeps running "Nighty!" his voice lost in the loud rumble and thunder.

Dream is right by him and reaches for him. But another flash of lightning and Dream is blinded. Once he opens his sockets he is no longer by the forest. No, he is in the village. People are screaming. He searches for Nightmare only to see his mother burning in the distance. Her branches ablaze in bright orange light.

Dream rushes towards her. Panic. Why can't he stop this? Why did it happen?

He reaches her but it is already too late. His mother is gone. HIs friends are gone. His brother...

His brother...

Staring at him with betrayal. Dream can feel the hurt and betrayal in the other and Dream realises his has his hand out.

He had hit him. He had attacked him.

Dream reaches for his brother but Nightmare flinches back, away from him.

Because he had hurt him.

Dream can't speak. He can't move.

Nightmare glares at him "Nothing to say for yourself?"

Dream tries but no words leave him. Please Nighty. He is sorry.

Nightmare just continues to glare at him "After everything?! You only came because of those stupid villagers?!"

Dream shakes and tries to shake his skull. tries to deny it. But he can't. His body isn't moving. Nightmare is right, dream had always only cared about the village and what they wanted.

Nightmare turns and walks away. Away from him. Away from their ruined home.

Dream wants to follow but can't move. He is locked in place. just like he had been when he had been turned to stone.

He tries to reach for Nightmare but he is already gone and everything goes dark. Just dark dark dark dark-

Dream gasps as he sits up and checks himself. He can move! He is fine! he... he...

He looks around and sees that he fell asleep on his couch again... in his own living room... again...

He sighs as he sits normally on the couch and puts his skull between his hands. That same dream again. it had been haunting him ever since he had first faced Nightmare. But the dream kept coming back more often lately, for almost two months now...

He is so tired. He can't deal with everyone needing his help today. He can't deal with everyone demanding his attention and support today...

Dream glances at his phone and grabs it. So many numbers in there and many many texts and missed calls already. He ignores them all and finds the right number. He calls it and waits.

"Hey Dream! How are you?"

Drema feels apart of him relax "Blue..."

"... What is wrong?"

Dream feels bad for asking this off him "... can... can i please come over?" he is suposed to be strong. a bringer of hope and light. Yet he keeps failing. He tries so hard but keeps messing up or not being enough.

"Of course. I will clear my own schedule. Can you get here okay?"

Dream smiles and nods "yeah... be there in a bit." Honestly thank everything for Blue.

--

Dream sits on the couch in a different living room. Still feelign exhausted but a bit better. He had told Blue all about the dream he had had... The way it had been bothering him more and more lately and just how exhausting he had been lately.

Blue sits by him as he eats his bowl of cereal, Dream's own bowl untouched. Blue hums as he takes a bite "Seems to me that you are getting burned out." and he eats another bite.

Dream frowns "no? That is for people who do stuff they don't like. I like helping people!" generally... sometimes...

He is the guardian of positivity! He is suposed to like helping others! That is hiw whole purpose!

He wishes he could ask his mother... He wishes he could ask Nightmare, Nightmare had always been better at listening and hearing what their mother said.

Blue hums as he eats more of his breakfast "Everyone can get burned out by everything. It is why Ink can get an artblock. It is why Sci can get overwhelmed and annoyed with his own work. Jsut because you like soemthing doesn't mean you can't get stressed or overwhelmed by it."

Dream blinks confused at Blue and Blue smiles "My bro has it more often than me. Said it like that too much of one thing is always bad, no matter what it is."

Dream... Dream suddenly has a strong sense of dejavu.

Blue nods "Even stuff you like! Say... I love taco's. It is my favourite! But... if i had to cook it everyday and only eat taco's? I would get sick of it. It doesn't mean i don't like them any less. Just, even too much of a good thing is bad. you know?"

Dream gives a slow nod as he stares at Blue "what... what should i do?"

Blue shrugs as he finishes his meal "Take a break? Don't do the guardian stuff for a bit?"

Dream frowns "I can't take a day off!"

Blue tilts hsi skull "Why not? Having a good work ethic is important, I myself have one too, but i know i need breaks. Obviously not as much as some people!" Blue looks over his shoulder with a glare.

Stretch chuckles in the distance "guilty as charged!"

Blue huffs but turns back "But breaks are important. It is why there are rules nad laws about days off and having breaks every so many hours. It sounds to me that you have not been using your vacation days and you should at this point." he puts his empty bowl away and quickly washes it before joining his said again.

Dream already feels anxious. PEople like and listen to him because he helps them. If he stops doing that they may dislike him or not listen and then what does he do?!

Blue sits next to him and keeps waiting for a reply.

Dream rubs his arm "what.. what about... work? What about spreading positivity?"

Blue thinks it over "I mean... It should be fine right? The gang and your brother have been very quiet for the last... what... month? two months?"

Dream nods as he looks at his hands. the anxiety returns "He must be planning somethign big..." something gigantic. And dream has no idea and doesn't even know where to start with getting information or anything-

Blue snaps his fingers and Drema blinks out of his own thoguhts before shooting Blue a confused look.Blue grins at him "I honestly didn't expect that to work. Stop worrying about stuff that hasn't happened yet. Think about the here and now. Your friends are doing okay. The omega timeline doesn't need your help with anything they cna't do themselves. The gang hasn't done anything yet and Errir and Ink still have their third cease fire."

Blue pokes Dream "What will help you right now."

Dream stares at Blue for a moment before looking away. He thinks before he speaks "I think... I think I would like to go... home..." Blue frowns so Dream tries to explain "YOu know... home home... I haven't been there in ages... my... my magic has been... shifting... it is strange... I don't bring as much positivity to others as i used to anymore. Me just being there doesn't make others happy anymore. I... I was hoping... maybe i can find answers there?"

Blue blinks before smiling "That sounds like a wonderful idea! If you give me ten minutes I can get ready to join you."

Dream blinsk confused "You will join me?"

Blue grins and nods "Of course! what are friends for?"

Dream feels lighter and smiles "Thank you blue."

--

not even fifteen minutes later and they had arrived in Dreamtale. Dream... Dream isn't sure what he had been expecting. but it was the same as he remembered. no colours. everythign is grey and frozen. lacking anytype of magic.

It hurt.

They had arrived at the village and blue looks around "oh.. i... i am sorry..." he holds his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

They walk around the village together and that same bittersweet feeling returns to Dream. He remembers playing games here. the little marktes he would visit. How everyone would always be happy to see him.

It had been a beautiful place.

And now it is gone and-

Dream freezes. Blue doens't notice as he keeps walking but dream can't look away. because there in the distance... in another building... that... that looks like...

"Nighty?"

The mirage, or vision, or hallucination looks up in shock. before pure fear overtakes the expression.

He looks so young... had they been that young?

Dream feels himself take a step closer. his soul is pulsing madly and his sockets starts to itch with tears. is he going insane?

The tiny form disappears from view as it disappears behind a wall and out of the view of the window.

Dream doesn't think and starts sprinting.

"Dream?! What is wrong?!"

Dream doesn't stop to explain. He runs through the empty streets. please. please. just a moment longer. just bring that vision back. He just wants to see his brother one more time.

Please.

A crack much like a thunder fills the air and Dream rushes into the house he had originally seen the vision in.

Nothing.

Dream sobs as he falls to his knees.

He was too late again.

Blue joins his side a moment later but Dream can't even begin to explain.

Why did it feel like he lost his brother all over again?

Why did his soul hurt this badly?

Blue holds him and continues to hold him until Drema calms down again.

Dream sobs "Maybe... maybe this was a mistake..." he can't admit he jsut saw a vision of his own brother but as a child... He can't admit he is actually going insane.

Blue just continues his hug "Or maybe this is exactly what you needed. You have been holding in this grieve for a long time Dream. Maybe it needs to be released?"

Maybe he has a point. Dream leans heavily into the hug.

Blue holds them both up easily "Any place you want to visit?"

Dream holds it tightly before looking around "Maybe... maybe my friend is still here? It has only been about two years since a left." she had given him tea and let him sleep on her couch... Later she had broken him out of his stone prison and helped him as he grew up to be who he is today.

He wants to be sure she is okay.

Blue nods as he looks around the village "where to?"

Dream points in a direction "Her house should be over there..." They walk together in silence and Dream finally spots the old house. But it looks old and broken. As if no one had lived there for centuries.

Dream feels himself shake "That can't be right." he rushes inside and freezes as he finds a pile of dust.

oh... how?

Dream sits next to the pile and sobs. Blue joins his side and hugs him.

Time passes and Dream ends up carefully collecting the dust and putting it in a jar. He will have to figure out what her favourite things were and-

"euh... Dream? What is this?"

Dream blinks and looks over to see Blue holding an old beautiful book. Dream frowns as he walks over and reads the title.

'Dreamtale'

Dream feels himself freeze "I... I don't know... where did you find it?"

Blue points towards the room. Dream frowns "I... i was told to never enter that as that had been her personal room. I didn't want to breka the trust..."

Blue hums before just opening the book. Dream hisses "Blue!"

Blue doesn't even look apologetic "Dream. If i have learned one thing about the multiverse, is having an universe named after one person spells trouble for everyone else in that universe. Why would she hide this from you?"

Dream can't help but agree and the two sit together at the table and start reading the story.

--

Dream wants to throw up. He is going to throw up. He just sits with his skull in his hands.

How... how often had nightmare asked him not to leave... to leave him alone? How often had Nightmare told him that the villagers didn't like him.

Dream... Dream never listened.

Dream sobs as he lays fully on the table.

The person he thought had been his friend... the person who gave him tea and a place to sit and rest. drugged him... all to make sure he couldn't interfere when they went to... when they had planned to murder... to murder...

dying...

all those years again.. Nightmare had accused him of not even caring that he had been dying. dream had thought it had been the corruption somehow talking to him, mocking him. Trying to make him feel horrible...

It had been Nightmare himself... accusing him of leaving him to be hurt and die alone.

And he had been right.

Dream sobs as tears leave his sockets. His sight finds the jar with dust of that... that... woman! That! Rage burns through him but two arms keep him in place.

"It is okay Dream. Let it all out."

Dream shakes his skull as he pushes closer to Blue "It isn't okay!! I am a fucking idiot! I was too fucking blind and now! Now I-" more sobs.

Blue jsut holds him tighter "You were a kid dream"

Dream sobs as he tightens his hold on blue "So was nighty..."

His dreams... his dreams and even that hallucination must have been trying to tell him all along there was more than he saw. That something had been going on. But dream was too busy. Always too busy. Before he had been too busy wiht the village and villagers... and now he was too busy with the multiverse.

eventually the tears dry as Blue just keeps holding him.

Dream sniffs "How do i fix this?"

Blue pauses his movement and clearly thinks for a while. Dream feels worse the longer Blue doesn't answer.

Blue sighs as he leans his own skull against Dream "I don't know. I would say you could try to talk with Nightmare but... well..."

Dream tightens his hold on Blue. every time him and Nightmare met they never spoke. Dream had for a while tried to tell Ngihtmare he could do better nad make up for the wrongs he did...

No wonder Nightmare doesn't want to speak to him anymore. Dream pretty much said that Nightmare should feel bad for fighting for his own survival... that he should feel bad for killing those who tried to kill him.

Dream feels sick all over again as he pushes closer to Blue. Being near blue helps.

Blue keeps a tighter hold on him "For now... you can take the book with you at least... keep your story with you you know? And maybe try and approach the subject if you see him again?"

Dream nods before anxiety reaches him "How will i tell everyone this?"

Blue pulls back and stares him in the socket "Stop. YOu dont have to tell them."

Dream looks away "They deserve an explanation and-"

Blue shakes his skull and looks at Dream "They don't. Just because they think they do deosn't mean they actually do. You don't have to hurt yourself to please them. You don't have to share this just opened hurt with those who won't support you dream."

Dream still feels sick "won't that be selfish?"

Blue shakes his skull "people demanding you share your trauma with them are entitled. You don't have to tell anything if you aren't comfortable."

Dream sniffs before nodding.

Blue nods and slowly helps him too his feet "Now. We came here with a mission and that was to find out what was up with your magic... the book didn't hold the answer so i am going to assume it may have to do with adult you. is there any other place you could learn more of yourself?"

Dream frowns. his head still a bit foggy "maybe... mom would know... but she never told us much... and she is gone... and i haven't been there since... well. i turned to stone." even after he got broken out he hadn't been brave enough to return.

Blue nods "How about.... we walk around first... see if we find anymore... clues" he eyes the book before looking back at him "And once you are ready go see your mom?"

Dream thinks for a moment before nodding.

Dream and Blue end up going to the hill after a quick walk around the village. All the good memories that Dream had had had already turned bittersweet after them dying. Now? They just burned him. Made Dream angry in a way he couldn't put into words. He had helped those unthankful assholes! He helped them day after day after day! Adn they hurt... they hurt... They killer his mother! They tried to kill Nightmare!

They walk up the hill silently and dream is dragging is feet.

Dream didn't think he could feel worse but he was wrong.

Because right by the dead stump of his mother.

Are two old graves.

One saying Nim. One saying Dream.

The worst part is that they looked well maintained and there are fresh flowers on them.

After that Blue calls it a day and helps him home. Saying that they will ask other people in the multiuniverse about gods changing powers later. and with a crack like thunder they teleport away and out of that universe again.

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

... *coughs* did someone say brother complex? Also this ended up a lot longer than planned? Woops? Look it was just suposed to be about Dream seeing tiny NIghtmare in their old AU but then a lot happened and I figured Dream also had a lot of trauma and well... tada?

Look. I never said Dream was dealing well with the changes... If i am being honest Nightmare took his own slight body horror better than Dream took the slight changes around him and the vision of his younger brother :3

First: here Prev: here Next: here

anyway. Love you all. You are fun and nice to hang out with! See you next drabble. also i can't believe this account that i just had to give little extra information abut my main AU just... has a second AU living here now.... guess that happened...

[youling-the-ghost]

More hand-written fanfiction! (ft. a bubbamiah fic that I impulsively started working on during class and I feel bad for because I'll have to abandon it so that I can finally finish chapter 3 of To be in Love)

[juni-ravenhall]

sso loading screen text "remember that knowledge is power".... imagine the power if the writers knew the lore of the game

[dxxtruction]

Personally, I think the “That’s how it happened right? You standing in my blood, stroking my hair?” Was how it happened. Louis is just super detached from that headspace he was in before, and validly wanting not to have it be true that he didn’t, at one time, care about Claudia being gone, would be reasonable, and in character. Blaming Armand, partly, for why things got to be like that is correct. Though in this instance is misdirected to include things Armand did not in fact do to get it to be like that, but had, very much, done in a recent unrelated incident. He's essentially combining two events together to get it to align with his current set of beliefs. (Surely everyone's looked back on a situation before and saw it differently given time to think or feel differently about it. Get differing information, and so on. The show is directing us to that a lot, if not making it one of its major themes.)

But I say this is probably, almost definitely, the case, because Louis story beats need to be told accurately lest it take away from his character arc, as well his whole character and its complexity. Obstructing from his, very powerful, highly emotionally driven, story in a way that's frankly offensive. Armand having total and complete control over it, is bullshit. While, he does this though, to himself. Does a character armor on himself to get away from his own flaws, and role, in how things came about. Not intentionally, because it is emotional, and a lot of times just a result of blocking out that trauma. But this is something he’s seen doing often - Not remembering situations in the light in which they’re most accurate, and in so doing painting himself better sometimes, and others worse. Straight up forgetting, or overlooking information, and so never reevaluating why certain things came about until this moment. Not accurately applying the emotions of then, to the way he feels about it now, because he can't, or couldn't previously, actually remember it in that way. As he doesn't connect to those feelings, even those memories. His feelings in a lot of ways keep clouding his memories and his judgments of them.

Daniel gets at this too, where he brings up the tapes, and how Louis was basically just raving the whole time, and this story all happened differently then. It's the same story beats, yes, but it's all so emotionally different to the point where information gets completely changed around, even looked at like it's forcefully constructed to be a certain way, and not actually, therefore, accurate. Louis always tells an emotional story, and that’s important. It places him in time and continuum, in his own history as opposed to outside of it. That’s like, I think a history that can’t be overlooked, even if it's a history that's subject to change. And shouldn't history be? Shouldn't we look back on events that took place in our lives differently? Isn't that how any society grows? And why shouldn't Louis judgments be clouded by his emotions when that's the reason for most any other characters actions? Isn't that the story being told here?

[etoilesombre]

Hey, do you guys want to hear a story? Let me tell you about the romance between Lancelot and Guinevere, as recounted in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.

So, I thought I knew the basics. I grew up reading modern versions of Arthurian legend that focused on other aspects, but had a general knowledge of the Arthur-Guinever-Lancelot love triangle. It didn't show up too much, but I assumed it was subtext in some other versions. What I picked up was that it was sort of pure, almost an ot3, and not the cause of a lot of problems. 

My friends. In this version it is NOT SUBTEXT, it DEFINITELY CAUSED PROBLEMS, and it is WILD. It is a true will-they-won't-they drama fest soap opera romance, and I need to share. So please, come on this journey with me.

[I’m looking at you, Black Sails fandom people. I need you to know that Flint canonically would have read this. He would almost certainly have also grown up hearing these stories. I’m not saying he’s Lancelot coded, but I am saying it's interesting that he would have been aware that was something it was possible to be.]

A couple notes, before we dive in. I am very much just summarizing what happened in the book. The thing is, the book is a million pages long and also in Middle English, and this is just one of many plots, which I think is why it's not more widely known. I will show some excerpts so you can get a feel for the text, but you don’t need to read them to understand the story. I'm referring to a version that is as close to the manuscript as I can find, though with spelling regularized. For real fun, see what the original looked like. Malory purports to be translating part of the French Vulgate cycle, which likely is where the character of Lancelot originates, but in fact he is doing much more than translating, and compiles other stories as well. Point being, when he says “so the French book sayeth” etc, that is the “book” to which he is referring. Because of my lack of knowledge about the language and cultural context, this lecture series from Mythgard Academy was absolutely invaluable to my understanding. I cannot recommend it highly enough. Inevitably, some of the opinions of the prof are reflected here. I do not have it in me to compare the scholarship of various medievalists right now, I just want to tell you about this DRAMA. 

Let’s start with a prophecy. When Arthur decides he wishes to marry Guinevere, Merlin advises him to take someone else, because if he takes her, she will betray him with Lancelot and it will destroy his kingdom. All of this is foretold, not only to us, but to Arthur himself. Of course he takes her anyway, and all is doomed from the start.

As we begin the main arc of this story (several books after the prophecy), Lancelot is widely acknowledged to be the best and most renowned knight of Arthur’s court. He is plainly and hopelessly in love with Guinevere, and she loves him in return. Arthur doesn’t have a problem with this - who wouldn’t love Guinevere? This sort of love is socially acceptable, so long as they do not sleep together, which would be treason. Arthur in fact seems to support their love, because it means that Lancelot will be Guinevere’s champion should she need one. This is a role Arthur himself legally cannot fill because he is the king, and so would have to be the judge. Lancelot is indeed a good champion for her, and fights for her when she is wrongly accused of murder. 

Lancelot is deeply chivalrous, in a way that seems sincere. This is a great place for a first excerpt, a conversation with a Random Damsel Lancelot has been helping:

‘Now, damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘will ye any more service of me?’ ‘Nay, sir,’ she said, ‘at this time, but almighty Jesu preserve you wheresoever ye ride or go, for the most courteous knight thou art and meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing, sir knight, me thinks ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye will not love some maiden or gentlewoman. For I could never hear say that ever ye loved any of no manner of degree, and that is great pity. But it is noised that ye love Queen Guenivere, and that she hath ordained by enchantment that ye shall never love no other but her, nor no other damosel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore there be many in this land of high estate and low that make great sorrow.’ ‘Fair damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I may not warn* people to speak of me what it pleaseth them; but for to be a wedded man, I think it not; for then I must couch with her, and leave arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say to take my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse, in principal for dread of God. For knights that be adventurous should not be adulterers nor lecherous, for then they be not happy nor fortunate unto the wars; for either they shall be overcome with a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall slay by unhap and their cursedness better men than they be themselves. And so who that useth paramours shall be unhappy, and all thing unhappy that is about them.’ 

So after doing his Knightly Deeds for this damsel, Lancelot asks if she needs anything else. She says no, but you are lacking one thing, which is the love of a woman. It is rumored that is because Guinevere has through sorcery made you love only her, and that causes all of the women great sorrow. In reply Lancelot makes this speech about how he cannot have a wife or paramour and be a good knight, but everyone thinks it is at least in part because his love is reserved for Guinevere.

Now, throughout the book his chastity DOES notably cause all of the women great sorrow. Everyone wants to sleep with Lancelot. Literally he is kidnapped by the four most beautiful queens other than Guinevere, and they say he has to choose one of them as a lover (not even a wife, a lover) or else die. He says he would rather die, though in the end he escapes. This is just an example, truly it is a recurring problem for him. He is, at one point, tricked into sleeping with a woman with whom he conceives his son Galahad (as was prophesied, it's a long story and the romance is only part of it. It is worth mentioning that something similar happens to Arthur, which is how Mordred is sired.) When Guinevere learns that Lancelot has been with someone else, she is angry and banishes him from the court. They still love each other and eventually reconcile. 

So, Lancelot goes on the quest for the holy grail. But he fails, specifically because while he is outwardly dedicated to God, in his private heart he is still dedicated to Guinevere. And so he makes a vow to renounce his love for her, acknowledging that it is beyond measure (beyond what is right, even if they have not technically done anything wrong.) However when he returns to Camelot, he cannot keep this vow, as we see. 

Then, as the book saith, Sir Lancelot began to resort unto Queen Guenivere again, and forgot the promise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book saith, had not Sir Lancelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly to the Queen as he was in seeming outward to God, there had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sangrail, but ever his thoughts were privily on the Queen. And so they loved together more hotter than they did beforehand, and had many such privy draughts together that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain’s brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So it befell that Sir Lancelot had many resorts of ladies and damosels that daily resorted unto him to be their champion: in all such matters of right Sir Lancelot applied him daily to do for the pleasure of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as much as he might he withdrew him from the company of Queen Guenivere for to eschew the slander and noise, wherefore the Queen waxed wroth with Sir Lancelot.

He and Guinevere start spending a lot of time alone together, and so there are rumors circulating about them in court. In order to put a stop to the rumors, Lancelot starts paying other women attention and doing more good knightly deeds for them. Guinevere is terribly jealous, but he tells her it's for their own good, and also tells her about the vow he made, and his concern that their love is beyond what is appropriate. She is devastated, and weeping banishes him from the court (again). 

Lancelot then rides in a tournament, disguised. (Why? Because this is simply a thing knights do.) To make it an effective disguise he takes the token of a woman, the sleeve of the fair maid of Astolat to wear on his helm. When she discovers that he was only using it for the disguise, and he does not indeed love her, she is so heartbroken that she says if he will not marry her or be her lover, she will die. He refuses, on the grounds that love must not be constrained and should arise from the heart, and offers her a thousand pounds a year instead if she marries anyone else. Properly insulted by this, she does indeed die. She has her body sent in a boat to Camelot, with a letter in her hand, saying that she died of her love for him, that he would not return. 

Seeing this, Guinevere reconciles with Lancelot, presumably reassured by the fact that he would let this very beautiful much younger woman die of her love rather than being with her. She insists that from now on he will not fight in disguise, and will openly bear her token. 

Then Queen Guenivere sent for Sir Lancelot, and said thus: ‘I warn you that ye ride no more in no jousts nor tournaments but that your kinsmen may know you; and at these jousts that shall be ye shall have of me a sleeve of gold. And I pray you for my sake to force* yourself there, that men may speak you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon your helmet.’ ‘Madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘it shall be done.’ And either made great joy of other.

It is important to keep in mind that, to this point, there is no textual evidence that they were sleeping together, and a great deal of evidence that it was important to Lancelot that they not cross that line. There is much less evidence that this is important to Guinevere.

So then one fateful day in May, Guinevere goes picnicing with an entourage of knights. They are captured by someone else who is in love with Guinevere, and taken back to his castle, but she manages to send a message to Lancelot. At the castle, she insists that her knights sleep in her bedchamber on the grounds that they were wounded in the battle when she was captured and need tending, but truly she wants them there to keep her captor from raping her. 

Lancelot arrives to rescue her, and the person who kidnapped her agrees to give her back in the morning. She tells Lancelot to visit her room in the night. He climbs up to her window, which is barred. They have a heartfelt reunion and she says she wishes he could come in to her. He acquiesces and breaks the bars to get into her room, cutting his hand to the bone to do so. Despite the profusely bleeding wound and the ten other men sleeping in the room, they at last do sleep together, in this passionate blood covered consummation. He sneaks back out and replaces the bars.

In the morning, the man who kidnapped Guinevere comes in and sees blood all over the bed. He accuses her of being unfaithful to the king, saying she lay with one of the knights who had been sleeping in her room. She denies it, but it is very clear that she did sleep with someone who was bleeding. 

Lancelot says he will fight to defend her from this accusation, which is right and proper because he is her champion. In this story people take trial by combat and oaths before God very seriously, especially Lancelot. He really does try. So he swears an oath that he will prove with his life that Guinevere did not sleep with one of the wounded knights who lay in her room. This of course is TRUE, but only on a technicality. Lancelot, having slept with her himself the night before, is also the one who defends her honor after. I love this story so much. 

Instead of fighting him, the kidnapper takes Lancelot captive. In captivity he encounters ANOTHER damsel who insists that sleep with her in order for her to help him. He refuses, still faithful in his heart to Guinevere. Eventually she settles for him holding and kissing her, which is not across the line of appropriateness apparently, giving us some idea of where that line is drawn. Anyway, Lancelot gets out, fights for Guinevere and wins. There are indications that he feels like he barely dodged a devine bullet. 

Guinevere and Lancelot return to Camelot. Finally the rumors about them are true, the deed has been done, but of course nothing appears particularly different as there were already rumors about them. Two knights, Mordred and Agravaine, who have been intriguing against Arthur already, go and tell Arthur that Guinevere is being untrue to him. Here is his response: 

‘If it be so,’ said the King, ‘wit you well, he is none other; but I would be loath to begin such a thing but I might have proofs of it. For Sir Lancelot is a hardy knight, and all ye know that he is the best knight among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed he will fight with him that bringeth up the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him. Therefore, and it be sooth as ye say, I would that he were taken with the deed.’ For as the French book saith, the King was full loath that such a noise should be upon Sir Lancelot and his queen. For the King had a deeming of it; but he would not hear thereof, for Sir Lancelot had done so much for him and for the Queen so many times that, wit you well, the King loved him passingly well.

Arthur says he will not hear of this without proof, because if Lancelot is accused and allowed to fight he would beat anyone. And, it is said that Arthur had some idea of the affair, but would not credit it because Lancelot had done so much for him and Guinevere, and he loved Lancelot greatly. 

So, one night when the king is away hunting, the two accusers contrive to catch them in the act, with a group of twelve armed knights. They do find Lancelot in Guinevere’s chamber, but the text is notably, pointedly vague about whether they are actually in bed. In any case, Lancelot asks for a trial. The knights say no, they have caught him and so may kill him. He is Lancelot, so he kills all of them instead, save one (Mordred) whom he leaves wounded. Lancelot flees, intending to return to rescue Guinevere and take her to his own castle to protect her from Arthur’s wrath. He maintains her innocence, and still intends that they will all reconcile.

Guinevere is to be burned at the stake (normal in this situation). Lancelot rescues her from the burning at the last moment, killing a number of knights of the round table. Arthur seems to blame the accusers more than Guinevere and Lancelot (for good reason; keep in mind that the romance is a subplot, there is a great deal of political intrigue going on.) Now a war will begin, whether anyone wants it or not, because of the people Lancelot killed. Lancelot takes Guinevere to his own castle. Battle lines are drawn, and Lancelot and Arthur confront each other in the fighting:

And ever was King Arthur about Sir Lancelot to have slain him, and ever Sir Lancelot suffered him and would not strike again. So Sir Bors encountered with King Arthur; and Sir Bors smote him, and so he alit and drew his sword and said to Sir Lancelot, ‘Sir, shall I make an end of this war?’—for he meant to have slain him. ‘Not so hardy,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘upon pain of thy head, that thou touch him no more! For I will never see that most noble king that made me knight neither slain nor shamed.’ And therewith Sir Lancelot alit off his horse and took up the King and horsed him again, and said thus: ‘My lord the king, for God’s love, stint this strife, for ye get here no worship and I would do my utterance. But always I forbear you, and ye nor none of yours forbear not me. And therefore, my lord, I pray you remember what I have done in many places, and now am I evil rewarded.’ So when King Arthur was on horseback he looked on Sir Lancelot; then the tears burst out of his eyes, thinking of the great courtesy that was in Sir Lancelot more than in any other man. And therewith the King rode his way and might no longer behold him, saying to himself, ‘Alas, alas, that yet this war began!’

So Arthur tries to slay Lancelot, but Lancelot, the better fighter, refuses to slay him and indeed when Arthur is unhorsed Lancelot forbids that he be slain, and gives him his own horse. Arthur weeps for the honor that is in Lancelot, and laments that the war began. 

The pope intervenes and tries to negotiate an end. Lancelot confirms that he is willing to return Guinevere to Arthur, and says he has always been willing to do this and will still defend her honor, but that he does not feel he can do so because Arthur has listened to liars and been misled, and he had more reason to take her away than the accusation of adultery - he does not trust she can be safe in that court, with things as they are. 

Eventually they do make a deal, with some assurances, and he surrenders Guinevere to the king. He kisses her openly, says that he will leave, but should she be in danger or ever again accused of being untrue, he will fight for her as he always has. He departs the court forever, to much great sorrow, and returns to his own lands. 

The war continues - eventually Mordred seizes the throne, Arthur kills him in battle but is mortally wounded himself and passes to Avalon. Following the king’s death, although her love would no longer be adulterous, Guinevere retires to a convent rather than reuniting with Lancelot. He seeks her out, and this is her reaction: 

Sir Lancelot was brought before her; then the Queen said to all those ladies, ‘Through this same man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul health; and yet I trust through God’s grace and through His Passion of His wounds wide, that after my death I may have a sight of the blessed face of Christ Jesu, and at Doomsday to sit on His right side;* for as sinful as ever I was, now are saints in heaven. And therefore, Sir Lancelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me no more in the visage. And I command thee, on God’s behalf, that thou forsake my company; and to thy kingdom look thou turn again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I have loved thee heretofore, my heart will not serve now to see thee, for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. And therefore go thou to thy realm, and there take ye a wife and live with her with joy and bliss. And I pray thee heartily to pray for me to the everlasting Lord that I may amend my misliving.’ ‘Now, my sweet madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘would ye that I should turn again unto my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well, that shall I never do, for I shall never be so false unto you of that I have promised. But the self* destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me to, for the pleasure of Jesu; and ever for you I cast me specially to pray.

Rather than rejoicing in Lancelot’s presence, Guinevere laments that their love brought about the downfall of the Arthurian court, and the deaths of the knights of the round table and King Arthur. She calls upon Lancelot, by all the love that was ever between them to leave her presence, telling him to marry someone else if he wishes and see her no more. Lancelot replies that he wants no one else, and that he will respect her wishes, but will also renounce the world and join a religious order. He asks Guinevere for a final parting kiss, which she denies him. 

When Guinevere lies dying of illness, Lancelot sets out to go to her, having had a vision. She knows of his coming, and prays to die before she sees him, because she cannot bear it. She dies a half hour before he arrives, leaving instruction that he is to tend to her body, and then lay it to rest beside that of her lord King Arthur. Lancelot does this with great sorrow, and after ceases to eat or drink, and within weeks is dead himself. 

And there you have it, the love affair that doomed Camelot.

HUGE DISCLAIMER: Any and all mistakes or misinterpretations are my own. This is what I gathered, but I am not a medievalist. I am barely an interested layperson. I’m just a random fic writer who got obsessed with research for a story, and had to share this tragic mess. 

[nottoonedin]

"AU where Ivan is alive" this "Fic where Ivan and Till are saved by the Rebels" that..

Where are all the fics where Sua is alive/saved by the rebels with Mizi? ¿Dónde? ¿Dónde están??

[f-imaginings]

I saw you were planning to do a happy ending spin off of kmky. Is this true?!? Please say yes! Or that you plan on making more because your writing is SO GOOD. Seriously you are amazing!!!!❤️❤️❤️

It's very true 😁 I already have half of one spin off chapter done (I like having several projects going at once so if I'm not vibing with one bit I have another to turn to and it helps take the pressure off), and have plans for several more chapters, although the struggle is making them in character and having the change in circumstances reflect the characters properly.

The one I have half finished so far is set after the bibliosphere and barold blendin's book burning escapade so I picked the most dramatic fraught with tension starting point to muck around with. I'm considering either running a poll on other key crossroads moments or just selecting a few that speak to me.

So far I'm thinking of doing something with the alternate universe with the institute of oddology, something after lottocron 9 and something with the scrap vandals, and I can always work my way back after all the space adventure crossroads dry up.

The scenario that is least appealing to me is any scenario that relies on Stanford being wholly ignorant of Bill's plans and the relationship coasting on that ignorance. The only iteration of that I can see myself writing is if he's in one of those diabolical dream bubbles like Mabel and that can only end in sickening denial, abject violence and everyone hating themselves and each other. So maybe one day I'll write it lmao 😂

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

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