#they did not want to talk-

[come-down-that-tree]

Prologue Previous

Come Down That Tree! (An aftermare story)

Chapter 20:Unu partì per piglià a so scarpa, l'altri dui parlavanu.

Geno had watched as the other looked absolutely flabbergasted at his bare foot. Understandable. How could someone go through their whole day without noticing they’re missing a shoe?

That was a show of incredible head-in-the-clouds behavior.

Not that clouds couldn’t be very distracting but that was certainly not the point he was trying to make.

Point was: Nightmare had been rightfully mortified by the ordeal and had eventually run off to search for the missing boot, shouting that he must have lost it on the way back.

And all of this led to his current situation: alone with Dream, a plate of untouched cake sitting innocently in front of him and a ring around his finger.

The last element made his mind twirl in a confused dance, hesitant on where to put his next step and if doing so would unleash a beast or a rose. 

The fluttering feeling spluttered out once a simple question was thrown his way.

“Do you like the cake?”

“Uh?”

“I said,”Do you like the cake?”, you barely touched it.” 

Geno hesitantly brought a piece of cake to his mouth, munching on it until it dissolved easily with a fizzy leftover taste (indicating it was at least partially monster food) and nodded in the other’s direction. 

“For my part, I think the berries are a bit young, it’s bitter than it should be.”

Another nod, it wasn’t like he was any good at baking himself. Baking With A Killer Robot was one of the only times he watched someone explain the process. Unsure if the dramatic poses and furious buzzsaws were an obligated addition.

Silence stretched for a minute.

They ate their piece.

He then spent a moment ogling at Nightmare’s gift and wondered about any implication with choosing a ring. 

Shaking his head, the monster chuckled at the thought. Mere coincidence! And perhaps a little cultural difference.

“Can I ask you something?”

Dream’s question was sharp, gutting the silence with a surprising precision.

He merely hummed in answer, eye still focused on his hand.

“Who are you?”

At that, he glanced up and met a serious gaze. He frowned.

“Mind elaborating? I’m Geno.”

The eyes didn’t blink.

“What do you want?”

“I’m calling you back when it’s relevant again. I don’t want anything.”

A stone statue peering at him, unblinking.

“What are you doing here?”

“I think I remember that it was you who dragged me here to be precise.”

Not a twitch, it was a bit eerie if he dared to say.

“Have you ever hurt Nightmare?”

A flash of something made the guardian's eyes shine for a second before it’s gone. Geno hesitated, waiting. Maybe Dream counted that as an answer.

“Willingly?”

And at that, he indignantly sputtered and before he realized what he was doing, he shook his head furiously.

A beat.

Another one.

A sigh and a rigid pose gaining back some fluidity.

“I want to trust you.”

It didn’t even occur to him that Dream could have been anything other than a trusting soul, maybe a bit naive. To his defense, the guy brought a stranger to the very treasure he was made to protect. 

“Allow me to think about it, alright?”

And like that, the tension disappeared fully as if nothing happened. Dream smiled and took another piece of cake before frowning jokingly.

“This one is thoroughly burnt.”

The monster chuckled and pointed at the blackened crust -pushing away the unease to think about at a later date, maybe never- and declared that as it was still possible to see the colors under the black, “it couldn’t be that burnt!”

And they bantered about failed cakes and if baking something at a high temperature could shorten the time efficiently (obviously it would but it would be worth some experimenting to determine the length it worked) and thus and that for a good while.

Above them, the blue of the day was blending out with a softer orange, making the clouds pink on the underside.

A black shape flew right above them, shrieking and startling them both.

“What was that?”

A thud resonated and something fell on the grass between them.

There, lying in all its fluffy glory, a whole bat. A whole confused creature who bonked hard on the tree’s bark. Somehow.

The event got two very different reactions out of them.

Geno bit out an incredulous laugh and Dream swiftly started fretting over the dazed animal, quickly pulling it into his lap to check it.

It had dark fur all over, except for some burned golden hue around its throat, and was roughly the size of a fast-growing pupper.

Geno watched, bemused, the guardian handling the bat with care, moving parts, observing stuff. 

“Do you do that often, you’re being very… efficient at the task?”

Without looking up from the small beast trying to sink tiny fangs in a thumb -which ended up not doing much beside getting a chuckle out of the spirit, bone can be heard to break- Dream hummed.

“Yes and no, I wouldn’t say it’s a very common occurrence but it is not the first time a bat bumped its head here,” he looked up, displaying an amused grin, “and now I’m starting to wonder if it’s not the same one as last time…”

Little screeches arose from Dream’s prisoner and the bat was released at last.

“Bye, little bat, please stop bonking your head against mother’s trunk.”

And, like that, they watched the chiropteran fly in a circle over them once before going away in the darkening surroundings.

Dream sighed once and they quickly fell back into silence.

The gentle wind played with the frayed end of his scarf and a lonely thought of days it blew without help idly passed his mind.

“Isn’t he taking a long time to find a boot?”

“He is.”

They both glanced at the village, with its newly lit lights, contemplating.

Geno wondered, face closed and pinched, if Nightmare was even capable of going down there without running into deep troubles.

“What do you mean by that? It’s just the village. A few folks there can be pretty rough -and most hard to please, ignore that I said that- but they aren’t bad!”

He said that out loud, curses.

“I’m sorry if you’re stuck in temland or something but I can’t say they made a good first impression on me and I’m pretty sure they had been making a lousy one on your brother for a while now.”

Dream kept quiet for a few seconds and idly, Geno briefly thought about adding more facts to the argument.

“...really?”

The voice was small and the eyes searching, searching for what? He wasn’t sure. 

He nodded.

They both glanced, once again, to the houses and streets, ant-sized people moving along and treading back home.

Geno swore and stood up.

“I’m going to go find him.”

The other did not follow but he felt burning eyes digging into his back all the way down the hill…

End of chapter 20... Go to chapter 21?

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont

Geno!Sans belongs to @/loverofpiggies Nightmare, Dream and dreamtale belong to @/jokublog

That chapter is dedicated to @shinechermont! Happy birthday AC <3 🦇🎉💖

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[dark-elf-writes]

Athena in My Goodbye: You need to learn to kill your heart and do what needs to be done

Athena checking back on Ody post Thunder Bringer and seeing him sitting there like:

[firethekitty]

last semester i wasn’t doing well in a very important class i needed to pass in order to graduate so i was working my ass off writing essays and shit and every time i started slacking i would bring up this image and i’d say “ah fuck you’re right vash i really need to keep working” and then i’d write for another two hours and i actually managed to pass and graduate and i honestly don’t know if i would’ve been able to without this picture. thank you vash

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Cassidy knows how to “help” Michael Afton

[beybuniki]

boys learning about healthy communication

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[pollyanna-nana]

Did anyone else notice that seemingly one of the first things they did after bringing Thistle into the kingdom was cut his hair short?

And given what Marcille says about how important hair is to magic…. That’s probably not a coincidence.

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[akanemnon]

I don't like this place. It's turning everyone edgy and sad.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[bet-on-me-13]

Dan is Trigon

So! The Teen Titans had been chasing down a Cult lately, and they had finally managed to track down their main bases location.

Unfortunately, they got there just a bit too late and the Summoning Ritual they had been preforming was finished. The Being they had been calling crawled up and out of the Circle drawn in Blood on the floor.

And Raven felt her heart Stop. Because that Being crawling it's way out of the Summoning Circle looked almost exactly like her Father's True Form. But also different.

Where her Father's hair was a White Flame, this one's hair looked like Freshly Fallen Snow. Instead of her Father's Blood Red Skin, this being had Icy Blue Skin. And most strikingly, In place of her Father's Piercing Red Eyes, this being had Lazarus Green Eyes.

But even with all those changes, she could still the similarities in the Bone Structure, the shape of the Jaw, and most importantly the Untold Power radiating off of them.

Before they could react, the Being turned its attention to the Cultists.

"Who Dares Summon, the Ghost King?"

"We do, Out Lord Pariah Dark! We Beseech Thee, take this unclean world and tear it down! Cleanse the World of its Filth!"

"Oh Goddammit, not again." Said the Being, "Look, Pariah hasn't been in Power for Centuries. I, am Phantom. And I don't do the whole 'Destroy all Worlds' thing, you want your own constellation? I'm your guy. Otherwise? Bite it."

"Bu-But my Lord! We summoned you to-"

"Yeah how about no." Said the unimpressed God, "Here, let me send you guys Home. I'll give you guys some riches or something as compensation, but that's it."

And with that, the God snapped its fingers and the cultists disappeared.

"Now, who are you kids?" He turned to them.

Robin stepped forward, "We are the Teen Titans, and originally we came to stop them from Summoning you. Now, I honestly don't know what to do..."

"Oh, you guys are Heroes! That's interesting, I don't come across worlds with Heroes very often." Said the Ghost King, "The last one was the one with those Revengers or whatever they called themselves. The Spider Totem was fun to talk to, and Thor is always..."

As Phantom mumbled to himself, Raven stepped up. "King Phantom, I have a Question. Why do you resemble the true form or Trigon so closely? As his Daughter, I can recognize your similarities easily, and I was curious."

The King stopped dead.

"...daughter?"

"Oh, yes. Trigon is my father, though obviously I haven't talked to him recently." She explained.

"...that asshole." He said, "How could he not tell me I had a NIECE!?"

Wait what?

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

multishipping

[lazylittledragon]

look gang i know the cishets are going to be annoying about chappell roan like they are with every popular queer artist but we CAN'T gatekeep, because think about how much it would've meant to your little queer self to hear songs about girls kissing girls being played on the radio every single day

[sysig]

Permission to headbutt: Granted (Patreon)