#trying to think of a new tag for stories

[cocopineo]

The Girl and the Goddess

A girl speaks to the true goddess of discord and strife.

*˚✧｡ Characters: Seraphina, Eris

*˚✧｡ Rating: Everyone

*˚✧｡Word Count: 501

*˚✧｡ Author Note: Hi this is a one shot! I'm slowly getting back into the desire to write and I mean slowly. A bit short but testing the waters. Formatting a bit wonky gonna try and change up the style later. College has been a thing for sure ;-). Enjoy!

"Frankly cutie I don't see where any of this gets you..." Eris plucked another gold string, the once glimmering pieces faded to black. She takes another strand bored inspecting it, before raking a nail snapping it in two.

The smaller person, Seraphina, moves another rock to her left, rolling it.

"Well I mean you're like in my mind for some reason, trapped deep within another realm...."

Eris rolls her eyes, hair fluring out in frustration before it stills back to soft hovering. Then taking another string, plucking.

"Yes, begrudgingly."

"Is it really that bad?" Seraphina responds more as a statement than a question, going back to tidying up Eris's area...prison or whatever she thought it was. Eris lands her eyes on her a bit annoyed, she lays her head on the Earth.

"I have no recollection or thought of what you're saying."

The goddess huffs still bored. She dips a finger into the Earth feeling the coolness of the water. The water begins to swirl, forming a whirlpool. She watches as the girl below her takes gold and stones attempting to decorate. It felt odd knowing the true knowledge of this girl. Things she didn't know about herself. Sure it was only a hunch, a massive one at that but she wondered.

"You know they're all weak right?"

Seraphina snaps out of her focus ears perk at the goddesses words. She turns slowly looking up at her.

"Who?"

Eris huffs a bit more amused to the fact this girl was smarter than smart but so dense to the true history. However, no one or an esteemed scholar knew, not to mention it's rumored all the historic findings are destroyed. Yet again she had to keep herself saying it was just a hunch the gods, titans and others murmured. Even those ingrates didn't know shit.

"The gods, titans, those all so powerful beings you people worship, work for, hell apparently some of you even become. They're just like you mortals, humans to water folk. All the same.”

Seraphina looked confused, glancing around her trying to relish if she was talking to someone else. Or maybe isolation got to her.

"Isn't that nearly impossible some of these are immortal beings, here for eons? History says otherwise.” She quipped

"Your books lie sweetheart. Even those "immortal " figures have their demise. It's just...harder to find or know. I'm not just here for pestering and meddling Sera. Even for the wars I caused they truly didn't bat an eye. Yet I think my ordeals we're rather fun, it's for other reasons." Eris swirls the water again looking down. This time her expression looked more sad. Her brain wandering to those saccharine memories...nice memories.

Seraphina looks at her confused, a twinge of worry seeping through. The goddess notices her face furrowed, she motions for the girl to continue her redecoration

She does so, but now her mind is a bit puzzled by Eris's tales of myths.

She wondered what other reasons could there be....

[sandflakedraws]

re : how each brother reacts learning that they can't go back

you'll have to pry the "all the Brozone Bros knew what happened at the tree" headcanon outta my cold, dead dead dead hands.

[somegrumpynerd]

@pigeonstab Oh this is fun to explore you're right

I tend to hc they don't know the story but they've picked up bits and pieces. Nightmare does not want to share, he'll avoid all attempts by others to ask about his past or what happened and he thinks he's done a fairly good job keeping them in the dark.

The problem is his boys are all Sanses. Classic Sans does not get his information by asking, he loves to read between the lines and make safe assumptions, and all his boys have a little bit of that still in them. So any time he's mentioned something off-hand or shown a bias towards one thing or another, they've been filing it away.

They don't know about his childhood (much) or what happened between him and Dream that caused all this, but they know he has a dubious past with mortals in some form and they assume it's to do with how he looks and that he feeds off negativity. They know he gets unnerved by large crowds and the sounds of apples crunching. They know he can't stand to see someone left alone in miserable circumstances.

But, alternatively, it would be really funny if he told them a fake story and they'd all been working off that the whole time

[chiropteracupola]

The islander and his chronicle.

[ask-the-druggieverse]

How does swap deal with the fatigue? And the heart problems? Is there anything that helps??

- ALT - There's not much I can do but I try to be well rested and I also try to reduce less stress! (Dream helps me with that)

Science assigned me a diet for less sodium and just basically eat healthy. I also have bi-weekly check ups with Doc and get heart meds from Sci

I also live with Ink, Dream, and Error just in case anything happens to me (my uh... my AU I don't really ent- ... nevermind)

INK: We pirated cussing hotel

Ink and Error... aren't really in good condition to help me but at least they don't encourage me to re-lapse (their cooking is really good tho)

SWAP: That's uh... pretty much all I can do SWAP: I kinda fucked myself over with... edibles...

- IDK - Fuck it I'm just using regular font cuz chat font is being difficult with me, also HI SORRY FOR NOT UPDATEING IN A FEW DAYS!!! I recently just got two new guinea pigs and I'm trying to have all of my piggies get along! (uh... it's gonna take a long time because Butters/Pig HATES them... (it's slow progress! she's getting used to Reese right now :3))

MAIN: @inkyu

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[gojooooo]

man i love open endings. the fact that thanks to yuuji there might indeed be the next time sukuna talks about in case some idiot decides to eat a finger again. and we need fics where yuuji is that idiot

[triglycercule]

ok so there's murder time trio where theyre best buddies and get along and sometimes even having more than just platonic interactions. and then there's also the murder time trio where they genuinely just don't like each other and avoid each other and do NOT get along and to me there's just a VERY clear timeline of events that could connect these two group dynamics. like these 2 could coexist,,,,,,

nightmare's fresh outta his little corruption sequence and he needs his henchmen. goes out and gathers the obvious three killer horror and dust (does it really matter how he got them??? kidnapping or not the trio will warm up to him). its his first time having to deal with mentally unstable grown up mortal men and he really has no idea how to manage the team so he lets them have some slack. spoils em a bit yk yk stops fights allows them to hang out allows em to screw around the castle even COMFORTS them,,,, shocking i know (a slightly nice nightmare interpretation from triglycercule? UNFATHOMABLE!!!!)

this killer's fresh outta something new so he's still kinda curious and nosy. he hasnt seen the multiverse and especially not interacted with nightmare/horrordust so he's kinda more outgoing and friendly (ish. to get to know better everyone and satisfy the curiosity of seeing what reactions and feelings these fellas could give him.) bc killer's not that much of a prick and horror and dust would naturally SLIGHTLY get along (and if in the right environment be good buddies. which is nm's lenience and killer's not shittiness) the mtt actually get along pretty well and are good buds!! like the first group dynamic i mentioned where the bad sanses are just kinda like a friend group except they have some weird work relations

and then a fight breaks out and nightmare kills either dust or horror (what about??? anything!) likely dust first because he's more likely to be wary of nm (if kidnapped) and also because he's just kinda more actively righteous compared to horror (who likely wouldn't do much against nm) or killer (does not give a shit.) dust dies, horror likely dies defending dust and that just leaves the og killer and nightmare

nightmare is like "oh shit i just killed my workers". he'll take like a week to ponder what he did and then completely move on (because hes an ass like that.) nightmare gets another horror and dust to replace the ones he killed. and killer is just like wtf how do i deal with this. the guys i were kinda friends were are dead but their copies are right here. like he knew copies existed in the utmv but he didn't think nightmare was so willing to replace them so fast???

this killer's still adapting to the multiverse and stuff (it probably hasn't even been a year since he got snatched up!!!) and yeah hes aware that copies exist and he could get replaced by one but he didn't think that it would LITERALLY HAPPEN RIGHT BEFORE HIS EYES. so he decides to stick more around nm and avoid getting replaced like the og dust and horror because it really just hammers in the point that he's kinda useless if he speaks out like those 2. hes avoidant of the new replacements as well bc hes still new to this experience and is getting used to the whole implications of two guys that were once him and he was friends with died and got replaced by basically the same person

but they still have to work together for obvious reasons. and even if killer's avoiding horror and dust they probably aren't avoiding each other and probably are like wary friends/acquaintances. and naturally killer HAS to become okay worker buddy pals with them because hes stuck living with them. nightmare's a lot stricter and cold to avoid something like dust's rebellion against him happening again. mtt are wary of each other (mostly towards killer. horrordust are pals and killer's kinda growing more apathetic to the duo because he's already experienced a lot of the stuff before with the og two that died.) but theyre still "friends" you could say

and then perchance maybe horror and dust decide to let killer in on a lil secret theyve been cooking up. theyre planning to escape (kidnapped DUH. and nm isn't as nice as he was to og horrordust to warrent them to wanna stay) and even though they don't really trust killer theyre still letting him in on the plan and offer for him to come with them because they lowkey feel bad for him and he's really not all that bad under all the bullshit

but killer saw what happened to the og dust and horror so he says no. and the night that the duo are planning to escape he just has this overwhelming sense of dread. the next morning he wakes up to nightmare standing over his bed with a cold glare telling him of horror and dust's attempted escape and death and killer just kinda. sighs. his dread was right (he was lowkey hoping that they could escape so they didn't die like the original 2)

and then the cycle repeats. previous dust or horror or both die to nightmare or some random outside force or escape (because it has to happen eventually right??) and the pair keep getting replaced. killer keeps witnessing their deaths and replacements and at this point he's just so used to it that he doesn't even TRY to interact with the new horrors and dusts. theyre not even like real people that are getting killed and replaced like robots to him anymore they're just distant coworkers that get fired and then a new one comes to take up the position

each new dust or horror is icked out by nightmare and killer. nightmare is incredibly cold and intimidating and dictatorial and just sucks in general. and killer gives them this distant look. like he knows something they dont. he's already proven to them that he knows that they should obey nightmare and how to deal with the king and they know he's been here longer than them but even when he's not with nightmare or not talking about him they get the blank stare

sometimes when a nicer replacement of horror decides to do something nice for killer like make him a meal he just gives him that look and declines (there's already been countless different horrors that tried doing nice stuff for him. it's not new and nice in his eyes anymore.) maybe when a dust replacement gets irked by killer's apathy and decides to try and say something that'll bother him or snoop through his personal stuff killer will just walk away or kick him out of his room with that creepy ass blank stare again (it's not the first time a dust has tried to rile him up. it's not new or interesting and just predictable)

killer just doesn't CARE about the new horrors and dusts. they're all pretty much the same two guy except maybe a bit nicer or meaner or quieter or even taller or something?? all he really cares about is is serving nightmares atp, no other outside relationships. and ngl he doesn't even care that much about nightmare either. he's already figured out his thinking he's already figured out all of his likes and dislikes and what not to do to piss him off. the only reason he's still dealing with him is because he doesn't have anything else better to do and he doesn't wanna be useless to the one guy that he's served all this time

he's just kinda stuck in an empty boring limbo that killer's only maintaining due to a lack of motivation and any other priorities. and personally i just think this bad sans dynamic is lowkey tragic because like killer keeps witnessing all these guys that he used to be friends or enemies or rivals or whatever with and they just keep dying or leaving him behind. not one ever stays for THAT long (because no wayyyy a dust or horror would take being under a cruel nightmare well) and it's given him this idea that none of these people matter (aside from the important one which is nm) because they're just gonna leave me and the connections ill have formed with them will be for nothing so why even try being vulnerable and friendly and interacting with these cheap copies of the guys i USED to be friends with

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Bad Dreams)

Woah!! Bet you guys weren't expecting this one!!! (<- no but fr Idk if this one was even a drabble I mentioned wanting to do to anyone besides Ancha lmao-)

Regardless, here's a drabble that takes place a few months after Dream's exile!

(Hello @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

It was quiet.

So dreadfully quiet.

The stone walls felt suffocating, and the darkness was too overwhelming. Even the light of his own magic wasn't enough to ward off the sickly feeling crawling up his spine and over his shoulders.

Roaving like clammy hands, clinging to his bones and threatening to drag him away.

He couldn't take this anymore.

It took effort, one hand over the other, eyes on the rest of the room he'd been placed in for now. One bed instead of two. His legs felt like jelly as he tugged them over the edge.

His feet landed in his sandals not a moment later, and he shoved away from the soft mattress which felt nothing like his own.

Hid eyelights lingered on the bottom of the frame. The shadow there, not reached by the little orb of emotion which hovered beside him, providing light to the barren room.

Perhaps, he feared something would crawl out of those shadows. Tendrils. Pointed and waving. Grasping. Creeping along the floor.

He took a shaking breath.

Another.

He had to at least be able to breathe.

Dream's legs carried him unceremoniously to one of the chairs located in the room where he'd abandoned his cloak.

It was too big on him, the gold and yellow meant for the form the prophecy would have provided him with. He'd taken it with him anyways.

He tugged it over his shoulders, abd the heavy weight smothered him. In a way, it warded off that chill. Just enough to give him the courage to hurry to the door and slip outside.

The hall felt colder than the room.

And almost quieter.

It was nothing like home. With servants and guards bustling about at all hours. With the gentle hum of his mother's magic pulsing through the walls. With his brother's-

No.

He couldn't think about that now.

He padded along through the empty halls. He still shook, but the longer he was in motion the more momentum he gained.

Dream moved swiftly through these unfamiliar and unfriendly halls, until he arrived at a familiar door.

A servant entrance, which he had only noticed because he'd heard horses somewhere beyond as it briefly opened during his first tour. He hated to use it, but he knew guards would be at the main exits.

So, carefully, he entered the space which held it.

A kitchen, of sorts. Piled high with the dishes yet to be cleaned, and with food stores which would last an army a century, tucked away into every shelf.

A part of him wondered what they even did with so much hidden away, but to be honest, he didn't care enough.

He pushed through the door with little effort, and felt a sense of relief rush over him as his sandals landed in damp, earthy grass.

A glance down revealed it had been stamped over hundreds of times by weary servants, so it was flat and lame, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was outside again.

Dream had been feeling suffocated in that stupid building. Out here it felt like that horrid shadow, haunting him, knew not to tread too closely in his wake.

The wind tugged at his overly-large cloak as he stood there a moment. The door swung shut behind him.

The sky, the stars, he felt like he was saying hello to an old friend met in a distant place.

Only a moment later he shook his skull free of his momentary relief. He had to keep moving. Had to do this now.

His eyelights skimmed the dark, and he extinguished his orb. The moon was more than bright enough to illuminate the place he was searching for.

The stables.

As he traversed the open lawn, he noticed. It too was different from the one he knew so well. It was smaller, and had closed outer walls. The doors were huge, and seemed to swing out like any other door. It would not slide like his own used to.

As he reached the entrance, he gently tugged it open. It gave way easily, and he slipped in, expecting to be plunged into the darkness of yet another enclosed building.

Yet... inside it seemed only a bit more shadowed.

The stalls were largely swathed in darkness, but a thin strip of light illuminated the alley between each part of the stalls. There was a skylight above, open air, that was letting the moonlight filter down.

The way it fell, it might's been just past midnight.

Dream moved forward, carefully and quietly. He didn't want to startle the horses. Most of them seemed to be resting just like the rest of the castle. Last thing he needed was to startle one of them.

While he needed to find one awake to keep going, maybe it was better that he not find one. Maybe...

Nope.

Fate must adore him.

There, a few stalls ahead, a movement. Through the space, a horse's head suspended from its thick neck extended majestically into the moonlight nearing its stall.

It seemed to shift, to get a look at him, before settling.

Dream was gentle in his approach, but fast. His hands were shaking now as he approached the horse.

A beautiful, clean white. Little freckles of blond dotting its muzzle and forehead. It was gorgeous.

It stayed still as Dream came close and reached out his hands. They trembled, and he wished he'd worn his gloved. He hated to see his bare bones in the moonlight.

The horse softly nuzzle its nose into his hand.

And sneezed.

Dream squeaked in surprise, recoiling away a bit. He tried to stay calm, if only to keep the horse from panicking, but it just snorted as it stared at him.

Of course he'd get horse-snot on his bare hands, and-

"Excuse you, miss." Came a playful, full voice.

Dream, this time, was less calm.

Why was there a voice? Who was down here?

His emotions must've broadcasted. As he stepped backwards into the moonbeam, the mare whinnied and realed back nervously, and there was a hum of surprise from within the stall.

Frozen in place, he watched as a faint movement, aside from the large shadow of the horse, rose from inside the stall.

Glowing.

Eyes turned to him. Eyelights, like his, a wide and curious sky blue.

And then they drew closer, and where the mare once extended her neck to him, now stood a monster he starkly recognized.

"Oh, Prince Dream?" It was Blue, the squire of the knight who'd been assigned to watch over Dream, "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up so late, is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Blue was smiling. Dream could taste it. His confusion, which was quickly overtaken by a general joy.

The skeleton wasn't dressed down at all, despite presumably having been knelt in a horse's pen for some reason. His squires armor, largely padded and cloth, hung well on his frame, and part of Dream wished he could see more that just the Knight's arms and shoulders peeking over the stall door along with his skull.

"I- I wasn't expecting anyone to be up tonight either." He replied, dumbly, "I was- was just taking a stroll. Couldn't sleep."

It was a weak excuse. An excuse literally anyone could see through-

"Ah, I see!" Blue's voice cut off his thoughts before they could run away, "You know, you should really try the tea that my master drinks before bed. It always knocks him out, cold turkey!"

Dream was... bewildered.

Blue turned away from him for a moment, disappearing into the shadows of the stall, but his voice did not hesitate.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sparing a bit for you, Prince Dream! After all, it's our job as knights and knights-to-be to care for our benefactors!"

Dream could hear a bit of movement behind his words, and a few moments later Blue returned to the front of the stall. He used one arm to support himself as he hopped over the small gate, the mare trailing in his wake to watch once again.

He seemed entirely unphased, carrying tools in his other hand, moving to a hanging leather bag hung on a nail in one of the support beams and dumping the items inside.

"If you like, I could escort you back inside and make you a cup?"

Blue was still speaking, with little hesitation.

Dream felt like the squires voice was rattling around in his skull. An overwhelming amount of sound for the quiet he'd just arrived from, and quite different from the sounds he'd been searching for.

Like the chirping of bugs, the sounds of rustling leaves, the pounding of a horse's hooves heavy on the ground as he made his daring escape from this place he did not know.

"Ah, Prince! It seems Marigold managed to get you a bit dirty, I apologize on her behalf!" Blue was a lot closer. "Please, allow me!"

A lot closer.

Dream flinched as he felt soft, worn gloves cup his palms from underneath.

His focus had been far off, elsewhere, but now he watched as the skeleton a bit shorter than him gently used a clean rag he must've grabbed to towel away the remnants of the horse's gunk left on his hands.

Blue was entirely focused on his task, and Dream felt entranced by the action. It felt like his non-existant gut was attempting to mimic a writhing snake.

When Blue finally seemed content, he hummed and grinned to himself.

Even through is thick gloves, Dream had been close enough. To taste it. There was not a single hint of malice lingering in this squires soul. He was so sweet. Unbearably so. He'd barely met any souls with such a pure slate of emotions laid bare.

"P-prince Dream?! Are you alright? I'm- I'm so sorry, did I grab your hands too hard?" Blue's voice once again dragged him back to reality.

A tinge of fear in the air, and the cold rapidly claiming his hands once again.

He looked away from his hands, now abandoned by the squire who'd been keeping them warm. He had backed up by a few paces, and had his head bowed, but Dream could still see his skull was tilted. An eyelight observing him.

Guilt.

Why...

Dream all at once pulled his hands up to his cheekbones. His freezing fingertips gently rimmed the bottom edge of his sockets, and all at once he understood.

He'd started crying. Like a weakling.

He knew this feeling all too well. The tears which used to come to him when Nightmare would be sent back to his own bed by their mother. When she found Night comforting him after a night terror. His aura was always so calming.

He hadn't had Night at all, lately. Maybe that was why he hadn't shed tears yet. Until tonight, of course.

"No- no. It's nothing you did." Dream hurried to say, though he hated his voice for warbling.

He tucked his hands tightly into his cloak, and took a single shaking breath.

And then stepped to the side, and sunk down against the stall gate of the mare named Marigold.

She didn't startle as the wood shifted under Dream's weight, and settled again against the tick hay coating the bottom of the stall.

In this moment, Dream didn't care how bad it smelled, or how dirty he was getting his perfect coronation cloak, or anything. He didn't care that his perfect white bones were digging into old, splintered wood, or that his cheekbones pressed to damp planks.

He didn't care about the squire who saw.

Dream knew he couldn't risk going back to the castle, sockets full of tears. Not like this. So he'd have to fry it out here and risk the squires rumor mill in the morning.

He sniffled as he let the cold sink into the thin silk cloth which covered his legs, closing his sockets miserably in the darkness.

He heard boot-steps, and sunk a bit lower into himself as they drew softly nearer.

Though, they stopped a short distance away, and the weight of the gate shifted again, as sonething denser leaned against it.

Marigold snorted in what Dream imagined was annoyance, and he heard her hooves disappear somewhere deeper into shadow.

.

It was silent as Dream let his tears flow. Shoulder dug into his cheek, folded in on himself like a sort of ragdoll. Sniffles were the only thing which broke that awkward quiet.

But this silence too, was deeply uncomfortable. It was as though his moments of peace were little more than ploys to administer more distress into his mind.

The moment he could no longer stand his self-imposed quiet, he shifted.

And squinted in the darkness.

And found that, just before him, was the side of that squire.

There, back pressed to the stall door, sat Blue. He wasn't looking at Dream. The prince noticed that in one hand he held hid signature weapon, that comically large Warhammer. His eyes seemed focused, skimming the stalls. Watching over Dream's form to the doors far from where he'd turned his back.

Was... was the squire watching over him?

Normally when he threw a tantrum like this, his sorrow would seep into the air around him. He was able to drive off all the servants and soldiers. Very few would linger. Struck by an intense misery.

"Squire Blue?" Dream's voice felt hoarse and wet, remnants of the emotion that had built up inside him.

The young man's eyelights darted to the side, to look at Dream as he was called.

This time he remained silent, his expression still focused.

Dream knew this was stupid, he- "Why did you stick around?" He asked. "It's your master's duty to babysit me, not yours."

It was true. Only the Knight had orders to watch over him. And Dream knew he didn't much like the job.

For that man, there was no honor in trailing a young monster like Dream. Even if he was the son of Nim, Dream was no longer a crown prince. He was exiled. An outcast.

The question seemed to linger in the air a moment, before Blue's browser furrowed.

"Well, I believe you are sad, and it must be a type of sadness which is very hard to fight away, as you are very strong." He spoke, though the chipper tone was something softer now. Encouraging? "So as you fought your battle, I wished to stay by your side and dissuade any enemies from the outside. I could not abandon you."

He said it as though Dream was really fighting something. Inside himself.

That wasn't it at all. He'd been running away from that thing biting at him. Clawing at his heels and clogging his throat. That made him want to run away and never come back.

"I-" Was he really going to do this? "I had a bad dream, Squire Blue."

He felt like a child, confessing to his nanny that he had broken a vase in the hall.

"My brother used to comfort me, from these terrors. But- but I cannot see him anymore. He-" He choked up again, "People are saying he was jealous of me, when he took the crown, but he wasn't. He was afraid. And he cast me out and exiled me to this place!"

If he weren't so focused on trying to contain his voice, he would've been impressed at how unmoving Blue's face remained, amongst the swarm of emotions breaking through Dream's thinly-kept barrier.

"He was afraid, and I am alone, and this I'd not how it should be! Someone, something, scared him into acting out and sending me away and- and here I am. Crying in a stable like a child due to a bad dream, hundreds of miles away from my twin!"

He threatened to curl in on himself again, but he stopped himself when he saw the way that Blue looked at him. Knowingly.

"You know, it is not nearly the same, but I too am separated from my brother." Blue spoke up. Though, he was smiling?

Dream hummed in confusion, tired from his confession.

"He's younger than me, stayed in our home village as part of the city guard. He's the coolest..." He sounded almost wistful, "When I chose to start my apprenticeship I was told I would have to move away, and live here." He lamented.

Dream hated to taste the bittersweet tang of melancholy wafting softly away from Blue.

"Don't... don't you miss him?" Dream muttered, "Don't you want to run away and be with him again?" That was what Dream would do.

Blue laughed gently, a charming little 'Mweh!' That warmed Dream's soul.

"Of course!" He admitted, "But, my brother was my biggest supporter, and if I don't become a knight, then my time away will have been for nothing."

A brother giving unwavering support. Like Nighty.

"It sounds like you treasure your brother, Prince Dream," Blue said, then, "Might I ask about what you think of him?"

Oh.

That's right.

Since he left, he'd only been piling negative atop negative about his brother, making an impossibly long list in his head.

"My brother..." Dream breathed, almost a whisper. "He was-" He stopped, "is the most devoted, kindest, gentlest soul I've ever known."

He couldn't help but think of when they were children. When they had first gotten their masks, and Nightmare had recieved the smooth, rounded owl face. He'd looked so adorable and kind, lavender eyelights wide with joy.

Dream remembered seeing the grin on his twin's face when he'd let Dream press the cold wood to his own face. No doubt it had been cuter on Nightmare.

"He's so smart... he loves reading, and his studies, and always knew how to help me when I'd make trouble in the castle."

The days when Dream was seven or eight, tripping around the halls at night, wet paint on his new shirt because he'd tripped and nudged a new mural his mother had commissioned. It had been wet.

Nightmare had found him and dragged him back to their room, where he'd pulled the shirt off of Dream and immediately set about cleaning it.

He said he'd watched their babysitter do it a hundred times and he'd learned. Dream had claimed the work was beneath them, but Nighty had shot back, asking if he'd rather be caught with stained clothes by the adults. That was the last thing he'd wanted, so he'd sat and watched Night scrub away at the stain in the tub with a few bottles of who knows what and water until it was practically brand-new. By morning it was dry, as though nothing had ever happened.

"And- and he always knew when I was sad. He'd come sit with me, and we'd hug and- and nothing came between us."

Until that day, of course.

That day when Dream was practicing his speech and Nightmare had rushed into the lounge to stand before him. Nightmare's skull had been sweaty, his eyelights pinpricks. He had a scroll clutched to his chest, and a hunch to his shoulders. He'd been afraid. Dream had tasted it like a sour lemon on his tongue, and had gone on high alert.

Only for Nightmare to start babbling to him. Stammering about the prophecy and a curse and some sort of discovery. A warning.

All that Dream had caught after asking him to slow down, was that Nightmare was begging him not to go through with his coronation ceremony. That he'd found a dire omen in the library about some sort of bloodshed. Some horrible price to pay.

Dream had tried to reassure him. That it was just a mean prank, that he and everyone else would be fine. Perfectly safe.

Nightmare had left the room dejected, practically in tears, and had rushed off. If Dream had known better, he would've gone and hammered it into his twin's skull that the prophecy was safe. That he didn't have to taint his own body to protect Dream from some make-believe threat.

Dream sighed a bit, and raised one hand to his face. He rubbed his palm along his sockets, swiping away magical residue from his tears.

He wasn't any less sad, but it felt less explosive.

"Your twin sounds very nice, Prince Dream. I do understand why you would like to see him again." Blue spoke softly.

His smile was boisterous again, and Dream couldn't help himself from allowing a gentle smile to worm onto his own expression.

"I cannot let you leave, that would not allow me to protect you, but if you wish to talk again, I am often an open ear!" He suggested, "You seem less sad after talking."

Hmm.

This might have been the first time in the history of his life, he realized, that he had someone his age really speak with him.

Blue was different from the noble children and the new guards and servants back home. It was something kind. Perhaps it was that he didn't truly understand just who Dream was. Who he was meant to be.

Maybe- maybe he'd like to keep it that way a bit longer.

"Trying to flee on horseback was a silly idea anyhow." He mused, "Would you be bothered if I still took your offer? For tea, that is?"

The joy that flooded through Blue was almost contagious, and he quickly popped up from where he'd been seated, letting his hammer shimmer away into the air beside him.

Then he turned to dream, and extended a gloved hand to him.

Dream took it after a moment, and he was swiftly tugged to his feet too, shaky as a newborn foal. Cold and damp and smelly.

But Blue didn't seem to notice, nor was he bothered. Not by the dirt that coated Dream's cloak or the smear of mud which had gotten onto his skull.

Blue escorted him back out to the grounds, and Dream saw my the moon that he'd hardly spent an hour in that stable. It was still plenty dark.

As the squire began to move towards the main path, Dream tugged his armor and guided him instead to the little servant door, and Drean was rewarded for his sneaky tactics with another 'Mweh!' of excitement.

Blue held the door, and Dream hurried into the kitchen. Then from there, Blue led them through servant corridors that Dream had never known existed. Blue was careful to check over his shoulder every few steps. Maybe he was worried about losing Dream in the twists and turns?

And then, as though hitting a brick wall, they found themselves in the private barracks of the knights of this realm. For a moment, Dream worried Blue might have to enter his master's room to snatched the tea, but...

There was a little alcove outside of one of the doors, carved into the wall.

'Personal effects' Blue had explained quietly, kept in the hall so servants might have easy access to each Knight's favorite drink or treat.

Dream watched curiously as the knight moved towards the space, and carefully extracted a few leaves from a little jar left outside.

"Will that be enough for two?" Dream muttered, perplexed. It seemed hardly enough for a mouse!

Blue glanced back to Dream in confusion, and the Prince realized he'd jumped the gun. Blue hadn't planned to have any tea, only brew it for Dream.

That... felt odd.

"Mm. Have you ever tried his tea, squire Blue?" He asked quietly instead.

Blue shook his head a bit, "No, I've never had the chance." He didn't seem bothered.

Dream only nodded, and the two hurried away. Out of the knight's wing, back through the servant halls, and into the kitchen where Dream had snuck out through the little door.

There, Blue closed the door to the hall, and after a moment, seemed content to begin moving all sorts of pots and pans to find a kettle.

Dream hadn't ever lingered in a kitchen very long. His babysitter only brought them inside once or twice, always upon Nightmare's request. The kitchen here was much smaller than his own, and was infinitely more cluttered. The organization, or lack there-of, made his hands itch.

It only took a few moments before he lifted himself up to sit atop one if the counters, away from where Blue seemed to be preparing the tea.

He moved with practice around this spot, it'd taken hardly any time at all for him to dig out the worn kettle, and it'd been tucked behind little bottles and containers of who knows what.

He seemed to work the stove just fine as well, the little flames dancing along with the little light their magic provoded to them.

Only when the kettle was set did Blue seem to glance around and spot Dream once again.

He moved a bit closer, leaning against the counter a bit.

"Prince Dream, may I ask a question?" He voiced.

Dream nodded curiously.

"Do you ever do sparring?" Blue asked, then.

That was... not what Dream had expected to be asked of him. He'd had people ask him many things, but never of that.

"I... used to." He said softly.

It was ever so slight, a raise in Blue's shoulders, some sort of little happiness sparking through him.

"I've seen you, stopping by when the knights train! What weapons do you use?" Blue asked then.

Dream suddenly had to find himself smothering the flush which threatened to flood his cheekbones. Yes, he did miss sparring, but often when he was frustrated he would pass by. To get a glimpse at the Knights in their armor, so swift and powerful.

"A bow." He said, maybe a bit too hastily. "I mean... I was formally trained in swordplay, staffs, and spears, but Archery has always come easiest to me."

He was so absorbed in his thought that he almost missed the way Blue's eyelights grew bigger. Almost.

Dream allowed a smirk to cross his face, and he held his hands out before him.

His little, pearly white, hands trembled. The joints glowed a soft golden color, and it all drew out, to his fingertips. After a moment, the glow condensed, and swirled, and tightly wove into a longbow.

The bow itself was a pale white, but much like his castle, it appeared to be made of old, twisting vines and branches.

"Where is the string?" Blue's curious tone asked, and Dream was only a bit startled to find the squire so close to him now, examining the weapon.

"It's only tangible in use with my magic." Dream explained softly.

Running a hand along the space, his finger caught, and a ripple of yellow glow moved down a thick, invisible string.

Impulsively, Dream imagined, Blue stuck his gloved hand right into the space beneath where Dream had just touched. There was nothing for him to grasp.

"Wowie... that's an impressive weapon, Prince Dream! You are very skilled, that must've taken ages to craft!" Blue said, pulling his hand back as though nothing had happened.

Dream stared at it a moment, but caught himself before claiming it was an easy feat.

He'd made the bow itself no problem, but the string... they could never withhold the power of his magic. They would snap and send him reeling.

Once, a broken string had swung back and cracked against his chin. He'd bled, and all of the guard had panicked about his wellbeing. He'd been young still, and had been so startled he thought they were yelling at him. Not about him.

After that, mother had insisted he learn to channel his magic precisely. Learn to use it with an easy perfection.

"Yes, it took me some time to perfect." Dream agreed solemnly.

It seemed Blue was going to say something else, but there was a loud whistle from the stove, and the squire jolted and hurried back to tend to it.

Dream watched from afar, letting his bow disappear once more, as Blue seemed to ready a singular teacup.

Once it was finished, he carried both it, and the saucer, very carefully over to Dream's countertop perch. He offered it up to the prince, with a gentle warning of, 'hot'.

Dream took it carefully, and held it under his face. The warmth rising from it was comforting, and the smell was nice. Unfamiliar. And for once he enjoyed it.

Dream blew on the surface of the tea, making it ripple like some dark ocean, before he impatiently brought it to hid mouth.

It was hot, as Blue had warned, but not scalding. He held it in his jaw for a moment, lingering on the taste, before swallowing it down.

He took another sip. Then hummed.

"Squire Blue, will you take a sip of this? Tell me what you think?" He then offered the cup to Blue.

The squire seemed startled, but only for a moment before nodding in determination. He gently took the teacup from Dream, and tipped it so he too could take a sip.

Dream watched his face, and aa the heat subsided, Blue's expression scrunched. He seemed like he was trying to decide whether to spit it out or drink it.

The prince couldn't contain his laughter as it seemed Blue resigned himself to swallowing it. He held the cup back out to Dream in some sort of defeat.

"It's gross, isn't it?" Dream asked through his little fit of giggles. He cupped the tea back into his own hand, and watched as Blue seemed to try and outlast the awful taste surely lingering in his mouth.

"Y-yes, it is! I have never tasted something like that before, I apologize, Prince Dream." He said almost despairing.

Dream just shook his head, "No fault of yours! This appears to be some sort of black tea. Magical, probably." Dream explained, almost fond of the horrible cup of tea.

This was probably the first time he'd found such a thing funny.

If anything, his obvious joy at the situation seemed to let Blue relax a bit again.

Both of them had now experienced the horribly bitter taste of a Knight's favorite coffee, and now they were both complicit in deciding that it was nasty.

Dream let himself giggle again, and brought the cup back up to his mouth.

Almost like a shot, Dream downed the remainder of the liquid. Though it made him shudder a bit under its bitter flavor, the warmth did well to bring a heat to his ribs he hadn't had all night.

When he set the cup and saucer beside himself, he found Blue staring at him, as though he had something on his face.

(He did, it was mud, but Blue was not looking at it.)

"Prince, if it tastes bad, why would you finish it?" Blue asked in confusion.

Dream just shrugged a bit, "I think of the tea as a gift. Even if I do not enjoy it, it means something special to someone else, so it would be rude to waste it." He said simply.

Blue seemed to linger on that for a moment, before seeming to double-down on his concentrated expression. Then, all at once, he grinned.

"I know that you are a Prince, but I think that you would also make a very noble knight!" Blue asserted, before he scooped up the cup and set it aside on the counter.

He seemed to debate the sink, before noticing the piles of other dishes and simply sighed softly.

Dream popped away from the counter, landing on his feet with a tired yawn. His hand raised to cover the action, but Blue caught sight of it and burst into action, moving to Dream's side at an alarming efficiency.

"Prince Dream, if you are tired, then allow me to escort you back to your room!" He insisted.

Dream couldn't help but agree.

As they walked, a part of him wished that he could beg Blue to talk with him until the sunrise, and then stay up all over again the next night. He hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

But, they had their places.

When the sun rose, Dream would have to be a proper prince again. Take a bath, send his robes to be cleaned, speak with the nobles here, try drafting another letter back home, and rot in the foreign place.

And Blue would have to go back to toting around that knight's swords and armor polish and make him that sickeningly bitter tea on command.

Dream wondered if Blue was even getting any real training, or if he was a glorified servant. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the young man use his war hammer during training.

Though, all of these thoughts would have to wait.

The bland door to his room arrived, and Blue bowed and bid him farewell.

Dream entered the dark space for the second time that night, slipped off his sandals, and collapsed cloak and all onto his bed. Too exhausted to be afraid of dancing shadows.

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (reason)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

(John sits up and tries to scoot away but The Werewolf is right there, staring him down to dare him to do anything else. He's gotten bigger since the last time they met.)

John: "D... dying? I don't understand--what's happening? One second I'm here, next I black out, and the next thing I know, you're here..."

(The Werewolf growls low again.) "I'll cut to the chase. I have to take over or we'll both die."

John: "Take over--?"

"What the fuck? I'm not going to let you! I don't even know how you even got here!"

The Werewolf: "Story of the goddamn century! Get it through your thick skull; I have to take over or else we'll die. Don't argue with me; we can do that later!"

(John shakes his head.) "How do I know this isn't a trick? A trick to lock me out?"

"That door... I didn't make it. It's too simple. How did you do it?"

(The Werewolf stands up.) "I don't know, but I could not open it myself. You still have control."

John: "You haven't answered my question! How do I know this isn't a trick?!"

The Werewolf: "You wanna know? Fine. Maybe this will get through to you."

John: "What--"

(Breathlessness takes him and John finds himself gasping for air.)

(His chest tightens.)

(He hears beeping. It's uneven. A long pause. It continues at a slower pace, spaced out. Voices murmuring. Third time... third time of what? He feels hands on him, pinning him down by his shoulders and arms. Where... where is this? )

(John shakes his head again. His heart feels like it's going to stop any moment. He looks up at The Werewolf to ask him what was he doing to him? Why?)

(The Werewolf jabs a clawed finger in the air, pointing in no discernable direction.) "That's your answer. What's happening out there is that there are people who are killing us as we speak!"

"I don't know if you've been aware or not... they're trying to figure out if it's possible to reverse the transformation. If they succeed somehow... there's a chance that..." (He doesn't want to say it. But he has to. It's now or never.)

"There's a chance that I'll be locked out permanently, or worse. I... I don't want that."

(John stands up. He staggers and steadies himself in front of The Werewolf, breathless.) "I don't want to turn into a monster and god knows what else."

The Werewolf: "How rich of you! You risk both of our lives for that stupid reason? And what evidence do you have of that, huh?"

John: "I..."

(He pauses.)

(The Werewolf looks on at John with disdain in his eyes.) "Are you that willing to go that far? To what end? For what?"

"You put absolute trust in these people's hands. Why is that? What did they promise you? That you'd have a way to control me as long as you lived; to do that, you'd have to be in their care? What lies did they speak about me this whole time?

"What makes you think I'm a monster?"

John: "Stop."

The Werewolf: "No. You have to see my way or I will make you; I've done it once and I'll do it again. I want you to listen and see what's happening to us right now. Maybe you'll get it."

(John looks up as he hears the voices again.) "The hell is that?"

// Next ⏭️

[rodentbehaviour-on-main]

I need every American to understand something

So today (6/27, Thursday June 27th) is the first official presidential debate. Trump v Biden. We know this, its happened before and I HATE that its happening again.

DO NOT VOTE FOR TRUMP

Both are shitty candidates, and one should VERY CLEARLY be the worst one. Under Biden, I, as an openly queer person who depends on several medications to function, would no longer be able to live. I mean, I could, if I heavily hid every trace of my history off the planet and stealthed and put too much effort in hiding who I am, what I experienced in my life, and the several things people would deem wrong with me. There wouldn’t even be a me anymore. I’d be a panicked shell of a person, worried of one wrong move that could get me harmed because we all know Trump would pass extreme legislation that would affect afab, LGBT, disabled, religious minority groups. Hell, that extreme legislation would impact EVERYONE. Roe v Wade affects the thousands of couples who lived their lives who now can have one moment dictate their lives forever because they can’t have an abortion, either from laws or lack of access.

Do not let his (very clearly) coached speeches fool you. This man is a convict felon who’s been using his supporters, scamming them, for money over HIS CRIMES. This man staged a coup that so many people seem to gloss over because “well it didn’t happen”. So you’d give him another chance? You’d brush off his behaviour without proper punishment? Well don’t act surprised if it happens again. And, if I remember correctly, he admitted to sexual harassment and assault. He’s worked with the fucking mafia (this is not a joke. It sounds like a comic villain thing that this man has done so much, but he’s done deals with the mafia). He admits to crimes like its the weather. Please, for the love of all the people who could and would be affected by Trump’s shit, vote for Biden.

There is plenty of traction of not voting for Biden because of Palestine. But in this hellscape of a two party system, with campaigns purposefully building us to another Trump v Biden with no third party candidates holding their own and getting stunning publicity, vote for Biden. The protests have worked. We’ve managed to sway his opinions, even if its just to hold his public image afloat. Protests did not work for Trump. We can see that we hold power, no matter how small, against Biden.

So holy shit PLEASE. IM BEGGING.

[tiffanybluesclues]

Every week someone makes a post about how annoying it is that Dick Grayson fans don't acknowledge his flaws, and every week someone replies with an explanation that the flaws OP listed are entirely fanon and inconsistent with canon as it actually happened and at this point I have to assume that none of those explanations are ever going to stick because clearly some people just want the fanon to be true.

Anyway, I'm just putting this here for me to edit and add relevant-to-the-topic links later so I'll have them nicely at hand to read and sooth my frustrations when it gets real bad out there. (Echo chambers are good when we use them to drown out character mischaracterizing fanon.)

[hellsite-detective]

Hellsite Detective in...

The Bad Banana

it was another cool day in Tumblr City. the breeze was blowin' through the streets and the rain was poundin' down hard against my window. the ceilin' fan that hung above me spun slowly and hypnotically as if blown by a wind that wasn't present. as i sat there in my chair, smokin' my cigar and watchin' that fan spin eternally, i grew hungry. thankfully i keep a small fruit bowl in the corner. gettin' up to go grab a bite, i picked a banana out of the bowl. it was a bright yellow, but you might not have known it from the monochromatic filter over the scene. as i began to unpeel it, a voice spoke from the back of my head sayin'...

...hold on...

...go ahead...

...what...

naturally confused, i spun around to see if someone had snuck in while my back was turned. but no, no one was there. however, the words continued to resound in my head. almost like they were callin' me to somethin'. i walked over to the window and took a look outside and the traffic lights at the intersection caught my eye. i looked at them, and looked back at the banana in my hand. that's when it hit me...

see, there was a post i've been lookin' for for ages. in fact, it was the post that inspired me to open my office up in the first place. it was a post comparin' the colors on bananas to the colors on traffic lights. back then, i couldn't find it. but now? i had the experience i needed. i decided to re-open this personal case of mine.

i tucked the banana into my coat and strolled through the rainy streets. i came across that hoppin' joint with jazz music always pourin' out the doors onto the street. the neon sign above the door read "The Search Bar." i headed inside, ready to do some business with my associate, but they were nowhere to be seen. they weren't sittin' at their normal booth. curious, i decided to ask the new robot bartender for help...

say, doll, you know where i can find the Boss?

[Oh! I do apologize. Don Google is upstairs in their office, but they are not seeing any visitors today.]

heh, well we'll see about that, won't we? say, what's your name?

[I am H.A.V.E.N. It stands for Hostess Attending to Virtual and Informational Needs. Essentially, my purpose is to keep track of Don Google's database so they do not have to. I also serve the drinks.]

Haven, huh? nice to meetcha, Haven. i gotta go see the Don though, whether they like it or not. i'll be seein' you later.

i tipped my hat to Haven and walked to the door leadin' to the stairwell. my mind lingered on the robotic hostess, wonderin' what an advanced artificial intelligence construct like her was doin' in this world that had it's basis in 1940's noir, but i wasn't gonna think about it too much. i headed up the stairs and into the Don's office. their goons whipped out their guns and almost took my head clean off, but the big fella themself stopped it.

the office was a far cry from the bustlin' night club on the first floor. where as the club had neon lights and kept things rather dark, probably for the best, the office was more well lit and elegant. it held a more warm atmosphere than the club, but somehow it was more oppressive in here. the walls appeared to be made of wood, bookshelves lined the walls, and a chandelier hung from the ceilin'. there was a carpet in the center of the room that had a kaleidoscope of colors rangin' from blue, red, yellow, and green. and directly across from the door was the desk. mahogany, it seemed, and real fancy too. a giant round window overlookin' the city streets was placed behind it with a large letter "G" formed in the window frames. the Don spun around in their large leather chair and puffed on their cigar.

"'Ey there, Miss Detective. What can I do ya for?"

i'm lookin' for a post involvin' bananas. specifically in relation to traffic lights. you got anythin' like that for me?"

i set the banana i had brought down on the desk and they chuckled at the sight.

"Yea, I think I got what your lookin' for."

with a wave of their hand, one of their goons fetched a file from off one of the shelves and brought it over to them. they thumbed it open with one hand, the other hand draggin' on the cigar. they slid it across the desk.

"This what your lookin' for?"

and there it was. the post that started it all. it had finally come full circle. i grabbed the file eagerly and began to leave the room, but the Don wasn't finished with me yet.

"'Ey, Miss Detective! Don't think I've forgotten about that little favor you owe me..."

i stopped dead in my tracks. preparin' myself for the worst, i stood there frozen. i couldn't even turn around to look at them. but shockingly, the conversation took a different turn.

"I'm not lookin' to cash that in just yet. Just be on the look out for a call, got it? I'm lookin' forward to our partnership."

i couldn't see them, but i knew their snide smile was bearing down on me at that moment. fear filling my body, i left the lion's den and went back to my humble office to file my prize away. as i did so, my stomach rumbled...

damn it. i left the banana with the Don...

Post Case: Closed

[arttsuka]

post oc lore king/queen !!

😭 I don't really have lore tbh, mostly vibes. Everything is too underdeveloped for lore

I have vague ideas of what I want my ocs to be.

For example, I want to put these guys in a 'time travel' kinda situation, where a murder takes place (that phone guy, who was the only one who knew how to help them get back in their time).

The only thing worse than their designs are the names

[carcarrot]

you'll be pleased to know that on my first day back at my job after my two week vacation i am already in one of my semi-regular Job Crises where i feel like if i dont find a new, better job soon im going to explode into 5 billion pieces

[genekies]

tag vent

[10hourshift]

Chapter 21

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Slight cw for blood

Fox's B plot part 1