#the girls are fightiinnnnng

[wishing-stones]

Hello! I'm submitting for the "Send a character(s) and a letter" request. May I request Dream Sans and the letter "J: When words aren't enough"?

J. When words aren’t enough.

Despite how shaky he felt, Dream's grip on his bow and the pressure of his fingers around his nocked arrow remained true.

He was tired.

Beyond tired.

He was exhausted.

His body ached, his soul hurt, and his head spun and split trying to process all of his emotions and handle his reflexes at the same time.

He took the moment of stillness to at least try to reorient himself and gain a bit of traction mentally to process the situation.

Once again, he stood opposite his brother, the ink-black skeleton hunched slightly with tentacles coiled over him and curved around his sides, ready to strike back. His hands were in the pockets of his hooded jacket, but that single cyan eyelight tracked even the tiniest movement Dream made.

Dream attempted to catch his breath, but his chest ached too much to hold anything substantial. His breathing came quick and labored, and the ache of combat was beginning to settle in and stiffen his joints.

He had a choice to make, here and now.

He wasn't sure he was strong enough to do it, but he had no choice.

Slowly, he lowered his bow and let the string relax into its neutral position, the arrow dissipating from being nocked. His bow similarly dissipated into shards of light that glittered away into nothingness.

Dream closed his eyes and bowed his head.

Words could not right this situation. He'd tried and tried and tried to get his brother to listen to him, to just for one blasted second stop and talk about things. Dream wanted to understand. He wanted to learn and heal and help his brother heal, but Nightmare cut him off at every corner. Refused to listen. Sneered down at him, berated him like a child-

Dream had ceased to be a child the day he was turned to stone, the same as Nightmare had ceased to be a child the instant his teeth sunk into the black flesh of the apple.

Dream did not look up, but he heard the subtle shift of his brother's tentacles relaxing their stance.

"What are you doing." He demanded.

Dream only shook his head. The will to fight left him, and it was all he could do now to keep himself upright.

He was so tired.

"I can't," He croaked, "I can't keep doing this."

His voice was small and rough. Nightmare acknowledged it with a derisive snort.

"And I suppose you expect me to grant you mercy?" He didn't have to look up to see the sneer-- it was evident in Nightmare's voice, sickly saccharine and mocking.

Dream shook his head. Nightmare made a strangled noise of confusion.

"So that's it, then? You're giving up?" Nightmare barked, "After all of that, you simply lay down and give up?!"

Dream wasn't laying down yet, but the temptation was there, if for no other reason than to rest his body.

"There's no point," He responded after a moment, "Nothing ever changes. We meet, we argue, we fight, we leave. No one wins. No one listens. I can't keep subjecting myself to these acts of futility. I can't keep doing the same thing over and over and expect different results. Talking achieves nothing. Fighting achieves nothing. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."

Giving in to the urge to stop standing, Dream dropped into a sitting position, laying his arms over his knees and resting his head on them.

"You cause all of this," Nightmare seethed, "And have the audacity to lay down your arms and surrender for no other reason than you're tired."

"You must be tired, too."

Where Dream expected to feel some self-satisfaction, some malicious glee in being victorious, he found nothing but complicated emotions from his brother. Nothing truly positive, but sparks of it poked through the tempest every now and again.

"I am tired," His brother's tone was clipped, "Of having to remind you time and time again that you are the reason all of this is the way it is in the first place. I am tired of having to remind you of that fact. I am tired of having to repeat myself. It is over, Dream. It can never be the same again. You chase phantoms of the past. You grasp at shadows of things that once were, and when you finally realize you cannot cling to memories and expect them to become reality again, you give up. I would be disgusted if it weren't so pitiful."

Dream said nothing.

"And even refuse to defend yourself. You have not realized the error of your ways or you would be grovelling and begging for my forgiveness."

He shook his head, but still said nothing.

"You do not have the right to sit there and refuse to accept your fault by shutting down," Nightmare snapped, "It will not absolve you of your guilt! It will not erase the past!"

Dream shook his head again.

He was too tired to even cry. All he could do was try to listen to Nightmare and focus on breathing. Moving again-- if he indeed did ever move again-- would be difficult with his limbs so heavy and joints locking up.

Nightmare made a noise between a grunt and a hiss, and Dream heard the heavy woosh of his tentacles lashing through the air.

"DEFEND YOURSELF!!"

Dream cringed at the volume of his brother's demand, but did not move aside from that. If Nightmare attacked him while he was defenseless, then that was the way this conflict ended.

Stars, how he wanted it to end.

"Dream!"

This snarl wasn't as loud, but... it sounded desperate? Maybe Dream's lack of reaction or action was getting to him. It wasn't his goal, but... well, maybe it would get him to stop. Dream wasn't about to hold his breath for it.

"You cannot give up. I will not allow it."

Dream rolled his head on his arms to peer out from behind them slightly.

Nightmare looked... panicked? His eyelight had constricted in stress, and he bore a tight snarl of white that cut through the sickly teal-green oilslick black.

"I refuse to let you Fall Down. This is not an option."

It wasn't anger or stress that Dream was seeing.

It was worry.

Nightmare was worried he'd pushed his brother so far into despair that he'd Fall Down. Dream wasn't entirely sure he wasn't about to, the way his limbs didn't respond, his emotions didn't respond. He felt empty, hollow, with no will to get up or move.

Nightmare picked his brother up with his tentacles-- oddly gingerly, Dream noted, he wasn't being tousled and manhandled like he usually was-- and set him on his feet. He didn't let go, either, but made sure that Dream's feet were flat on the ground and supporting him.

"Listen to me," Nightmare hissed, forcing his brother's head up with a tentacle. Dream met his gaze hollowly.

"Whether or not you realize your fault in this mess is your prerogative. Your refusal to accept it and instead opting to lay down and die is not an acceptable resolution." Although Nightmare's voice was cold fury, Dream could see the almost panicked concern in his eyelight.

Had his lack of response really startled Nightmare into caring? Dream furrowed his brow faintly-- it was all he could bring himself to do.

Nightmare slowly, very slowly-- unwound his tentacles from his brother, making sure that he was stable and standing on his own before all four of the appendages retreated into his back. He drew his face up into a snarl, making a deep, rumbling growl.

"Get your shit together." He seethed.

And in a swirl of shadow, he was gone.

Dream stood, staring unblinking at the spot where his brother once stood.

Was that...

...Progress?

Nightmare still cared enough about him to want him to live, regardless of his reasoning. He still cared enough that the thought of Dream Falling Down terrified him.

With what little strength he could muster, Dream summoned a portal for home, immediately into his bedroom, and collapsed onto his bed, exhausted.

While he did not Fall Down, he did sleep for a very long time.