#epics of ink and light | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

25% of US internet users with an annual income of $80-100K use Tumblr.

#epics of ink and light

tickledpink31 · 6 months

Text

A thought

No, but if Rollo somehow got his hands on the most confidential information about Minako and knew about her curse that way, he would see her as a victim of magic just like his brother was. He would see so much of himself in her older siblings having to watch their kid sister slowly die because of what was afflicting their bloodline.

Rollo would be under the belief that the Nezumis would hate magic as much as he does, but no... they love it! It's their livelihood, their reason for breathing and living other than having each other as family. He takes it upon himself to try and "save the family" from what he perceives is a poisonous mindset.

#my thoughts #twisted wonderland x harry potter #twisted wonderland #harry potter #glorious masquerade #twst masquerade #epics of ink & light #epics of ink and light #oc: minako nezumi #twisted wonderland mc #harry potter oc #rollo flamme

20 notes · View notes

theyellowonethatfeelsblue · 1 year

Text

[Text ID: "So the story goes as we all had seen:/Poison on their lips, bruises on their skin;/An empty hand and a fallen crown,/Some splashed wine on a white gown–/A sight to mortify the crowd."-July F. :extract from "Shakespearien tragedy"]

#poetry #old poem #literature #dark academia #light academia #poem #books and libraries #spilled ink #spilled poetry #Shakespeare #drama #epic #quote #quotes

0 notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #epic mickey #epic mickey rebrushed #question #notes from the writing raven #Mickey Mouse #Alice in Wonderland #Yuu #Dire Crowley #Malleus Draconia #spoilers #twst theory #twisted wonderland theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #Thru the Mirror

374 notes · View notes

acoraxia · 1 year

Text

[ TALK WITH YOUR BROTHER ]

The lower area of the heavenly grounds is surprisingly cold, a light mist covering the area despite the bright glow of gold and white seeping through.

There’s already rumors spreading through the Guard of undisciplined trainees running amok through the stables and freeloading in the gardens — though, it’s certain that the sole protagonist of said rumors is the one guffawing wickedly at the bottom of the stairs, orange fur and golden eyes easily standing out even in the dark uniform the yaoguai wears. A hard sniff is heard as the final step is done and the two men stare at each other, unblinking.

[Doc version]

SWK: Yang Jian, you would not believe what the horses just told me about Laozi SWK: It’s wickedly cool SWK: Like, “oh my god i never would’ve guessed”, kind of cool ELS: Hm. SWK: Seriously! SWK: You should definitely not go and check the stables, by the way, I think someone left one of the stalls open and one of the horses got out in the middle of the epic quest of: “Where’s the Bimawen?” ELS: You don’t say. SWK: I do say! Overly saying it, actually, I’m saying it right now SWK: Point is, the dude’s crafting some sort of “immortality pill” and keeping it all to himself in his lab and I’m thinking of making him extra sweet tarts tomorrow to try and get him to share some SWK: Okay, well, Imma try to get Jiejie to teach me to bake tarts and then I can sweeten him up SWK: All that skilled planning will get me closer to expanding my immortal lifespan by ten so I can gloat to those guards about who’s actually the strongest in training SWK: Hah! Even my old master knew that I was the strongest— ELS: Yes, who was that again? SWK: Hm? ELS: Your master. Who was he? SWK: What master? ELS: The master you just spoke of. SWK: I’ve only had one master and that’s you, bro

There’s a pause in the very-important-must-read-dialogue to remind the reader than if you’re unaware of the motions, Erlang Shen, the Jade Emperor’s nephew and renown God of Justice, is regretting his decision in coming down to try and negotiate with his brother about leaving behind trickery for the sake of his migraine-induced rage bursts. The Ivory Lady says it’s bad for his age.

SWK: Can I be honest? ELS: I don’t think you were born or designed to be honest. But by all means, go right ahead. SWK: I’m thinking about the clouds that form around here ELS: … ELS: Clouds? SWK: ‘Cause you have all the nice neat lil’ shapes back on the mortal realm that are fun to crash into! They fill up with water vapor and turn into shapes and you can try and guess what kind of shape they turn into like a very normal kind of game a fifty-year-old demon like me would play ELS: Clearly. SWK: But the clouds here never change! Not once! They don’t even disappear — is it like a time thing? That’s the exact same cloud I saw yesterday when I was chasing down Xiaotian ELS: Why were you chasing my dog? SWK: And that is the same cloud I saw when I broke into the Emperor’s closet and put on one of his fancy gowns to play ‘Emperor For the Day’ until someone noticed and ended up getting kicked out for ‘ruining the Jade Emperor’s regalia’ ELS: That was you? SWK: Not the point ELS: Stop chasing Xiaotian. SWK: I don’t think you’re focusing enough on the clouds and their freaky patterns and stupid ideas of never changing once when I turn way to ask for it ELS: Did you also dye his fur? SWK: Actually he just ran straight into my study desk and got ink all over himself ELS: Where did you get the colored ink? SWK: You can make it by mixing flower petals or leaves together to change its color ELS: Oh. SWK: Smart huh? ELS: I have found the one daily thing you’ve done to impress me. Congratulations. ELS: You’re grounded. SWK: No, I’m not ELS: You are. SWK: You always say I’m grounded but then you turn around and let me stay with the horses before training SWK: Come on Yang Jian it’s nothin’! Besides it’s just you and me, now, you can drop the ‘almighty justice god’ routine ELS: It’s not a routine!

ELS: Come on, Shi Hou. You’re the smartest trainee I have— SWK: Ever had ELS: You trained with me for like, what? A couple of weeks? It’s incredible how quickly you picked up on everything. You should be using that brain of yours for something other than cheap pranks, brother. ELS: You won’t be taken seriously if you don’t act serious. SWK: Says the gege who helped me prank your sworn brothers SWK: Didn’t know chickens could be so violent ELS: Of course they’re violent. The smaller they are the more violence is stored inside them. ELS: You’d know that if you learned about the— SWK: Yeah, I got it SWK: But can you blame me? Fifteen days of being here after finding out Heaven was lying to me? I could’ve gone back to Azure and told them about how stupid the whole ‘Taking Back Heaven’ plan is to try something else ELS: And you believe Azure would listen? SWK: Of course he would! SWK: You listen to me ELS: Because we’re brothers. SWK: He said he was my brother. How’s that any different? ELS: I, personally, don’t have any delusions of grandeur when it comes to wanting to overthrow the most powerful royal line out there. ELS: But I am willing to teach you how to control that magic of yours and learn to— SWK: Blast things! ELS: Heal, little brother. It will come in handy when you’re out in the battlefield all alone. You may be all powerful but your body’s still growing. Changing. You may even encounter stronger yaoguai on your adventures when you finally leave my temple. SWK: Really? You think someone is capable of hurting me? ELS: Apart from me? Yes. SWK: Psh, sure. You beat me, what? Three times? I still won the other fights. ELS: Yes, and I kept training to counter you. We’re tied. ELS: Now, go wash up. We’re traveling East tomorrow to meet with an old friend of mine. You’d do best to learn proper decorum before meeting him. SWK: If he’s anything like your right-hand then I’ll probably be able to manage ELS: Wukong… SWK: Yeah, yeah SWK: Bah, you worry too much Erlang. I’ll be right with you first thing in the morning ELS: I’ll believe you. ELS: Don’t be late!

There’s a bright flash of light, the same orange and yellows that seep from the sunset. It grows brighter and brighter and gray eyes stare up at the bird that circles around the god before diving towards the temple. There’s a few seconds before Erlang hears a loud cackle of laughter, amused and delighted, and he can’t help the small smile that spreads on his face.

He sighs and stares up at the sky, watching it change into night.

-----

MASTERPOST | REST OF THE AU

279 notes · View notes

kittysdiary · 7 months

Text

my daily cheetahlicious beauty routine 🐆🎀:

(yes that’s me!)

skincare 🌸:

cleanser ~ cerave normal to dry skin cleanser

exfoliant ~ the ordinary aha + bha exfoliating peel (use 2x a week please!)

moisturizer ~ cerave daily moisturizing lotion

correction products ~ cerave eye cream + good molecules discoloration correcting serum

sunscreen ~ coola refreshing water cream

devices ~ vanity planet aira ionic facial steamer (in the color rose gold ofc) + farrence led light skin care machine

makeup 🌸:

primer ~ urban decay all nighter

foundation ~ fenty beauty pro flit’r

concealer ~ fenty beauty pro filt’r instant retouch

setting powder ~ fenty beauty pro filt’r instant retouch powder or laura mercier loose setting powder

blush ~ nars orgasm x + nars deep throat blush

bronzer ~ benefit cosmetics hoola bronzer

highlighter ~ benefit cosmetics tickle highlighter

mascara ~ too face better than sex mascara

eyeliner ~ nyx epic ink liner, too face better than sex liner

eyeshadow ~ too face, colourpop + morphe eyeshadow palettes

eye glitter ~ stilla

brows ~ anastasia beverly hills brow freeze

lashes ~ kiss lashes in sassy hybrid, lilly lashes in miami + lashy box -> cas cosmetic lashes in amethyst (used in photo but the style amethyst is no longer being sold but i luv the brand though for 25mm lashes! 💗)

lips ~ fenty beauty gloss bomb, nyx butter gloss + too face lip injection gloss

setting spray - urban decay all nighter setting spray

tools ~ morphe makeup brushes + beauty sponge

hair 🌸:

shampoo ~ design essentials milk and honey

conditioner ~ design essentials milk and honey

leave in conditioner ~ design essentials bamboo silk, design essentials almond and avocado detangling conditioner

hair mask ~ design essentials almond and avocado deep moisture mask

hair oil ~ design essentials silk essential oil

hair gel ~ eco styling gel

tools ~ detangling brush, denman brush, edge brush, blow dryer diffuser + at home hood dryer

(shower caps, silk head wraps/bonnets + silk pillowcases xoxo!)

#my post #tips #cute tips from an esthetician 🎀#sorry abt the names of my blushes LOL!#self care #makeup #hair #my face

68 notes · View notes

tickledpink31 · 16 days

Note

You know the event Lost in the in the book with Stitch event in Twst? What would Minako wear at the beach? What would her relationship with Stitch be like? Because damn, not only she finally gets some relaxation but gets a new alien buddy (sorry Grim, you've been replaced)

Just this once, I’ll give you this drawing as a treat. Mostly, because nothing on pinterest fit my vision.

(Now that I look at it, Minako’s abs look kinda weird. It’s hard for me to draw muscular people, especially since Minako tends to make herself look delicate and soft due to the layers and long sleeves she wears, so I don’t draw her muscles often.)

But yeah, rule of thumb is that Minako usually either matches a disney protagonist or matches with Grim. Like Grim’s outfit, the pattern on her shirt is the same pattern as Lilo’s dress.

Honestly, because of Minako’s workaholic tendencies, she thinks that being trapped in a beach paradise is some kind of trap, but she eventually settles down and relaxes on a floatie, drink in hand. Stitch warmed up to her rather quickly too. Minako’s magizoologist/beast-taming skills work a little too well sometimes to the point where she doesn’t have to lift a finger and creatures just know that she’s worth their time. Grim here is letting out his inner cat and starting fights with Stitch the same way Lilo would fight with him.

#ask #my art #twisted wonderland x harry potter #twisted wonderland #harry potter #epics of ink & light #epics of ink and light #lost in a book with stitch #twisted wonderland mc #oc: minako nezumi

15 notes · View notes

valeriianz · 3 months

Note

haunted mirror! 👻

so, this one was supposed to be an epic Dream/Hob Halloween fic i was work-shopping with @ml-nolan that i never finished. it's loosely inspired by the film Oculus, where Hob is hired to fix a crack in the frame of this ancient mirror before it goes out to it's buyer. but there's something... other-worldly about the mirror. something evil (it's eldritch Nightmare!Dream. but in the form of a mirror... i promise it's gonna be insane and maybe a little scary and definitely hot as hell). i wanna finish it so bad! ENCOURAGE ME SEIYA!

half of this fic is written out on paper that i havent transferred over to gdocs, so have a very unedited snippet:

The darkness that surrounds Hob seems to caress his skin, soaking into his clothes, drowning him in oblivion. He sucks in a breath but it’s cut off, like a vice around his neck. Hob takes a step back, then another, shaking as he desperately tries focusing on the wood floor beneath his bare feet. Hob’s eyes are playing tricks on him in the darkness, they must be, creating shapes and pinpricks of lights that hadn’t been there previously. A rush of shadows, undulating like black ink poured into a mold of something resembling a human shape, suddenly surround Hob, his voice stuck on a scream that only comes out as a choked off gasp. His back connects solidly against something cold and smooth; the mirror. Hob squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re not real. It’s not real…”

WIP ask game

#lololol what is happening!#thanks seiya!#dreamling #sure lets throw this in the tags haha

49 notes · View notes

tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book.

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was.

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad.

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand.

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat.

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?”

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket.

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda.

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!”

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw.

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning.

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.”

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly.

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head.

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind.

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description.

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move.

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.”

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…”

She shook her head.

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

-------------------

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

34 notes · View notes

abhainnwhump · 2 months

Text

IMYM Chapter 22: Mind Sickness: Dream

(Content warnings: Referenced tortured, referenced abuse, inaccurate medical procedures, very brainwashed Ink, nearly 10k word chapter. I need to stop torturing Dream so much in an Ink-centric whump story.)

<- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

Dream’s joy and happiness faded as soon as he slammed into a wall of black paint. They fell onto the broken road, rubbing their head and staring at its height. The wall shook and splashed over him, Fresh, and Epic like a waterfall.

Dream spit the thin bitter paint out of his mouth. He resembled his twin more than he liked. He looked up with shock. “Wha- what was that for?”

Ink broke into laughter, except . . . it was all wrong. Not just because he played a cruel joke, but his laugh didn’t sound like his. Ink should have snorted and sounded carefree. Instead, he had a quiet giggle and he hid it behind his hand. Laying on the ground, Dream started to notice other strange things.

Ink showed no signs of being in pain. No limping, no bandages, no bruises, no scars, not even fear of his captor. He appeared more uneasy about Epic, Fresh, and him.

Even with his positive aura, something else was amiss. He was too healthy with the circumstances. He also looked more diminutive than Dream remembered, at least with a thinner waist. Was he shorter or was Nightmare taller? Ink stood in perfect ballerina stance with an uncanny smile that never faded. In fact, his entire face was too round and soft. And the artist’s outfit . . . Nightmare had to have forced him into it. Ink would never wear those lavender bows and that lacey white dress unironically. Dream didn’t process it at first since all he saw was his best’s friends face. Only one person in the multiverse had that cheek mark. Maybe Ink had scars and bruises under the white fabric. He had to be hurting somewhere.

Then he saw the worst of it. His eye lights. The lilac hearts and white pupils replaced them. Lilac, pink, bows, the bows around his waist and on his head.

Wait, bows . . . oh stars. Bow. Bow.

Dream went cold and he felt like an idiot. Everything clicked into place. It was like working on a puzzle but not knowing what the picture is until you find the last piece. Core warned them about this not long ago. Killer lied and faked Ink’s death, he was with them all along. But yet, he was left with more questions. Most began with Why?

He turned to Epic for his input, but he disappeared. Fresh was as stunned as he was, hiss aura was almost heartbroken. Dream prayed to the Creators that Epic had some common sense and ran through the portal. The guardians should handle this, not a mortal who isn’t experienced. He looked back at Nightmare and Ink. Nightmare crossed his arms and a smug smile plastered across his face. Dream scowled at his vanity and cruelty toward Ink.

Dream blinked to make sure he didn’t imagine this. “Ink, your clothes. . .”

The artist looked hurt, picking at his frilly sleeves. His voice sounded different too, higher-pitched and soft, it was adorable. “Is something wrong with them?”

“Of course not, my little doll.” Nightmare reassured. He ran a hand down his skull. Ink closed his eye sockets in ecstasy, leaning into the touch. Dream cringed. “You look adorable. Dream is just dense and doesn’t understand the new you. Nor what we have.”

“New . . .” The Guardian of Positivity trailed off. He refused to believe what the last sentence implied. Fear filled his mind, shutting down all logic. He barely held his anger back. “Nightmare, what have you done? What did you do to him? WHAT DID YOU DO TO INK?”

Ink answered for him. “He fixed me!” His smile didn’t match his words, as if his twin did a good thing. Dream went nauseous. The sleep deprivation had to be affecting him. Yes, this had to be a bad dream. This couldn’t be the real Ink. He couldn’t be in love with Nightmare. He couldn’t have killed for him. He took him prisoner!

It’s true. A dream wouldn’t be this detailed. It’s an undeniable aura., but he can be saved.

Dream took a deep breath and held out his hand. He hoped for him to see it as a sign of peace. “Ink, listen to yourself! I don’t know what Nightmare told you, but he’s lying! He’s messing with your head! He’s using you! Look what he’s done to you!” Dream gestured at his . . . everything. He tried not to cry. “He didn’t fix you, he made you worse!” It came out harsher than he intended it. Ink lowered his head and stepped behind Nightmare, taking hold of his tendril. His little whimper broke Dream's heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nightmare pinched his nasal bridge. “Now do you see why I kept you in the castle? I told you they’ll hurt you for being my partner.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Dream protested. “What I'm trying to say is that you’re not . . . his. You’re your own person. Nightmare has no right to treat you like this! You’re not a doll! Oh stars, Ink please! Snap out of it!”

His brother shook his head. “More lies, for shame. Is it so hard to understand-” He paused and gained a malicious grin. “Oh, is a demonstration what you need? You always were a visual learner. Come here, my angel.”

The artist obeyed with a smile and stood in front of him, bouncing on his heels. At first, Dream didn’t understand what was happening. Nightmare wrapped his tendrils tight around Ink and lifted his chin to face him. He caressed Ink’s cheek. Otherwise, he stood still as stone. His eye made contact with his twin’s, conveying a thousand words without uttering one.

Now show Dream who you belong to.

Ink threw himself at Nightmare, cupping his captor’s cheekbones and kissinghim. Nightmare pulled him into a low dip, still locked into the kiss. Any possibility that Ink may have been feigning vanished. He wouldn’t fake his happy aura. Nightmare wrapped his hand around the back of the artist’s skull. He hadn’t stopped glaring at Dream, smirking as he fed from his disgust and horror. It was like a car crash. The guardian couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. He gripped his swords and Fresh followed with his bat.

They stopped when a sound resembling a lightning bolt crashed in the distance. A Gaster Blaster appeared behind Nightmare and Ink. Purple flames flicked and flickered in its eye sockets. Jacket blowing in the wind, Epic stood on top of the blaster’s skull. He gagged and looked like he wanted to vomit.

“Are you kidding me, bruh? You destroy my home, kill my friends, and I leave for eight minutes only to come back to you snogging Inkblot? The hell . . .” Epic shrugged. “I got other things to worry about. See ya.” Epic snapped his fingers and shot the blaster. Nightmare wrapped his arms around Ink and he melted them both into the ground. Dream’s heart stopped as he thought he had taken Ink away again. But then he sensed a strong negative force behind him. He turned around and slashed Nightmare’s tendril aside with his sword. Nightmare retracted his tendril, glaring him down as he kept an arm tight around Ink. Ink clung to him like he was the last good thing in his life.

“Inky brah, let go!” Fresh shouted. Dream could have sworn he saw a purple tendril peek from under his glasses. It vanished and he snapped his fingers. Four furbies surrounded them. Nightmare blocked the explosion by covering both of them in a shield made from his tendrils. Dream still didn’t understand. Was Nightmare protecting Ink? His arms were tight around his frail form.

Scowling, Nightmare snapped his fingers. Ink twitched as if a button was pressed in his mind. He flipped his parasol into a fighting position. He looked to Nightmare, who pointed his finger at Epic. “Fight that one, I’ll humor Dream. You can do it, my sweet Ribbon.”

Epic paused at the name. “Woah, woah, what did you just call hi-?”

Before Epic could finish, Ink charged with the parasol. Nightmare melted into a puddle of sludge and mixed with the shadows. Dream held his daggers out as he watched for any sign of movement.

Ink and Epic clashed. Ink danced, staying light on his feet and gliding around Epic. It would have been beautiful if not for the circumstances and the blood on his dress. Epic brought down his rubber chicken and Ink twirled away. The chicken squeaked.

Fresh launched his first attack at Nightmare, who shot at him from the shadows. A hurricane of rainbow paint and confetti pushed Nightmare back. Dream combined their swords and fired an arrow at their brother. Ink had a strangely potent amount of positivity as he fought Epic.

Nightmare waved his hand and harnessed the malice surrounding the area. The monsters corrupted in the Code Purple rose from the dead and crawled close. Dream slashed them aside, muttering apologies as he cut the heads off each one. Fresh bashed them with his baseball bat.

Ink blocked off paint and blaster beams with his parasol. Epic jumped on broken building parts and eyed Ink. Ink kept watching Nightmare with a nervous glance. Epic found the highest platform he could and jumped off with a scream. He had his rubber chicken ready and close to Ink’s head.

But in the last second, Nightmare threw Epic aside and blocked Ink off. Epic made a safe landing. Nightmare turned around and cupped Ink’s cheeks. Dream, Fresh, and Epic took the chance to duck behind the debris of the building. They panted and looked at each other.

Epic peeked up from the rocks. “Hm . . . ooo-kay, bruh. I see a good shot. I can throw a bone and it should go straight threw Nightmare and we can grab Ink. I don’t know what’s going on in his head to stay with that guy. Look at them!”

Epic sharpened a bone attack and watched for the two. Nightmare didn’t notice as he fussed over Ink, cleaning grime from his face and cooing. Dream leaned over to Epic and whispered. “Now, please.”

Epic threw the bone with all his fury. Ink looked up as Nightmare tended to him and gasped. “Nonononono, Nighty look out!”

Jumping in front of Nightmare, Ink blocked the attack with his body. The bone lodged through his chest. He didn’t make a noise as if he couldn’t feel it, but he stumbled and twitched. Nightmare caught him before he hit the ground, sitting down and holding him. He lay his hand over his head and used magic to put him to sleep. With extreme gentleness, Nightmare sat down with Ink in his lap, stroking his skull. Dream, Fresh, and Epic ran over. Nightmare glared at them, but he turned it into a charming smile.

“By the way, I forgot to ask, do you like him so far?” Nightmare readjusted Ink so his arms wrapped around his waist. “It took a fair bit of trial and error, but he’s a fast learner. He was so fun to break, both physically and mentally. He’s adorable when he begs, you should hear him.” He brushed his cheekbone. “Not a single defiant thought in this little head . . .”

Epic stared with an unreadable expression. “Bruh, what is wrong with you? I mean, what is actually wrong with you?”

Nightmare frowned. “How rude, you didn’t answer my question. I assumed you would love the new Inky. He’s gone from a pest to a sweet, obedient doll. I washed away all his annoying habits and replaced them with polite manners. I recall you hate how arrogant and loud he was. Well, now he’s humble and silent. He loves being my servant. He- oh, I have an excellentidea. I will allow you to keep him for a few days and see how much better he’s become. Once that time is up, I will return to bring him home.” He lifted Ink with his tendrils and dropped him at Dream’s feet.

Dream kneeled and rested his sleeping friend’s head on his femur. He wondered what kind of torment or spell Nightmare put him through to make him so submissive. He glared at his twin. “Whatever you did to mess with his mind, we’ll free him from it. We’ll tell him you handed him over. We’ll tell him what you truly see him as.”

Without turning around, Nightmare said, “And who do you think he’ll believe? The love of his life? Or the person he believes abandoned him? You should be more grateful, brother. I usually hate sharing my toys.” With that, he melted into a puddle of darkness.

Fresh eyed the shaking beams. A pipe snapped and whistled. Rumbling sounded from the ceiling. “Come on, brahs! This joint is going down!”

Dream found he could lift Ink with no trouble at all. He never could before. Epic grabbed Dream and Fresh’s arms and snapped his fingers. He teleported them to the Omega Timeline portal. The building they were in collapsed not a moment later, dust covered the air in a black and gray blanket. Black negativity devoured it. Fresh reached his arm out and twisted it, changing the location of where the doorway would take them. His portal abilities were stronger after becoming the Guardian of Creativity. They jumped through the entrance.

The four skeletons appeared in a small white waiting room with wooden bookshelves. The Omega Hospital. Core and Blue chatted at a round table. Blue’s left eye socket was bruised and forming a small scar. Core’s hair was burned at the tips. The knight caught sight of the skeletons and waved, pausing mid-greeting as soon as he saw the mess.

“What happened to you guys?” Core peeked up at the unconscious body in Dream’s arms. “And- oh my stars, is that Ribbon?

“Ribbon?” Epic and Blue asked at the same time.

"He's Nightmare's most recent hi-" Core stopped. Dream’s fingers slipped, revealing Ink’s paint mark tattoo. Core went pale. Their aura was consumed in shame and guilt.

“Oh, um . . . so why are you covered in malice?” the child asked, looking everywhere but at the three skeletons.

“A lot happened . . .” Dream admitted. They were hiding something, but it wasn’t important right now. Ink was in critical condition. “Don’t worry. This isn’t malice, this is paint.”

Epic took Ink from the guardian’s arms. Ink shifted so he nestled into his jacket. “We’re going to need to heal him and check for extra injuries. Most of the scars seem psychological, but who knows what else that creepy octopus bruh did to him.”

Core nodded and the two talked over medical procedures as they entered a hospital room down the hall. Dream and Fresh joined Blue at the table. “How did saving Underfell go?”

He perked up when Dream mentioned his mission. “Not bad! They didn’t believe me at first. Red thought Core and I were looking for attention and cussed at us. But once he saw the corruption, he helped me out! But forget about that, what happened with Ink? What did Nightmare do to him?”

The three skeletons summarized their adventures. Underfell Frisk gave Blue a cinnamon bunny as a thank you. Blue and Dream split the treat, Fresh didn’t want it. It tasted and smelled like spice, butter, and brown sugar. Dream didn’t realize how hungry he was and devoured the snack in seconds. His magic was running low. Despite that, he still healed Blue’s bruise.

“That’s . . . wowie.” Blue said once Dream and Fresh finished their story, exchanging parts. “When Core and I were fighting the Murder Time Trio, they said something about a ‘special surprise’. I thought they were messing with us. I never would’ve guessed they meant Ink! Bow is Ink?”

“Mm-hm.” Dream ate the last of his cinnamon bunny. “Nightmare did something to him. Toture, or some magic. He was acting so strangely and. He acted like he loved-”

The screaming started from down the hall.

Dream shot up and was about to check it out as Core ran down the hall, bracing themself on the corner. They panted and rubbed their arms. “Dream, Blue, Fresh, we need your help. Now. It’s Ink. He woke up, he’s strangling Epic, nearly broke half the bones in my body, and- don’t stand there, get in here!”

The Stars shared a concerned glance and followed them into an emergency room. Epic and Ink wrestled on the concrete floor. Anti-Magic cuffs around his wrists forced Ink to rely on physical strength. Epic huffed as he pinned his back to the ground. The artist struggled as much as he could, yipping and tearing up. Epic made his movements quick. He flipped around, lowered Ink’s wrists behind his back, and brought them both standing. Ink tried to kick him. Epic forced him on his back onto the hospital bed. Core held his arms to the banister, which turned out to be a laboring task.

“No, no, NO! Please, you don’t understand! I’m not Ink! I’m Ribbon! I’ll do anything you want, just give me back to Nightmare! Please! I belong to him!” Ink wailed and kicked. His face dripped with tears. His aura burned with agonizing fear, but strangely, he didn’t stop smiling. “Nighty, save me! HELP!”

Dream watched, paralyzed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It stung his golden apple soul to see his friend suffering this way. Blue found his strength first and summoned two magic wristbands to hold down the artist’s arms. Fresh snapped his fingers and used confetti-infested paint to hold down his legs. Core exhaled in relief. Ink wailed louder. The sound helped Dream refocus. Ink needed him; Dream would worry about his obsession with his twin later. Removing his glove, Dream rushed over and placed his glowing hand over the artist’s foreskull.

“Shh, it’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe now, it’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down, that’s it. Breathe in, breathe out, nice and slow. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Deep breaths. Focus on the sound of my voice and nothing else. Relax. Go back to sleep.” Dream rubbed Ink’s cheek with one hand, trying to soothe him.

Ink stopped thrashing and began to settle down. But he fought against the magic and Dream was weak, so he sobbed harder at the touch. “Stop . . . stop it. Hands off, liar.”

Liar?

His negative emotions pulsed strong enough so Dream couldn’t put him to sleep. Thankfully, Core was three steps ahead of him and wrapped a clear gas mask over his face. Ink tried to fight the sedative too, squealing in protest. His attempts fell fruitless as Core turned the machine on. “I’m sorry, Ink.”

He fought, his eye sockets fluttered, and his arms slumped against his sides. Even if it was only for a little while, he was at peace.

The sudden silence was haunting. No one spoke for a full two minutes, instead sharing looks of question and worry. Fresh didn’t look away from Ink. Dream had imagined what Ink’s return would be like before, even in his wistful fantasies. None of them involved this level of fear, horror, and crying.

“Phew.” Core’s voice was quiet. They wiped their forehead with a sleeve. “What in the world was that about? Why was he crying for Nightmare to save him?”

“This is what I meant by ‘long story’. Nightmare . . . brainwashed him. To what extent I don’t know, but he’s madly in love with him,” Dream said.

They looked over at the artist. Now that he was up close and away from danger, they could see some of the physical effects of his brother’s ‘care’. His face was beautiful, along with the rest of his body, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And that made Dream clench his teeth. He doubted Ink consented to having his body mutilated like this.

Dream took a white towel from the counter and gently wiped Ink’s face. He intended to dry his tears, but the surface revealed itself pink. A streak sliced across his left cheekbone, blush. “Why is- is this makeup?”

“Bruh, if Nightmare’s got him in dresses, why are you surprised he went for the full sugar-and-spice look?” Epic brushed his fingers against his bruised neck. He flicked the heart charm around his neck. Dream thought it was part of his dress. “We’re going to need some permanent restraints, at least for his arms. Otherwise, he’s going to kill someone. Seriously, all I did was try and hook him up with an IV and his murder mode was on. It wouldn’t go in for some reason.”

Blue released his magic. “He does have trypanophobia, but that can't be it. I think I have something that could work! I'll be back." Blue ran out of the room, his smile twitching the entire time.

Dream finished cleaning Ink's face, but not before he heard asound like a china plate against a table. He tapped Ink’s eyelids.

Clink clink.

No . . . no, Nightmare couldn’t have been that cruel.

Dream forced the tip of his finger under Ink’s left eyelid and lifted it. It was certainly plastic. His whole face glimmered with a porcelain covering, not bone. He ran his hand down his neck, resting on a pull-string charm again. Dream gave it a pull and his snores became more audible.

Core's face was grim. "That’s a voice box. I don't know how he even managed to do it, it should be medically impossible."

"Only one way to find out." Epic undid the buttons on Ink’s blood-stained dress, adjusting and lifting his body to slide it down. He tugged at the bone through his chest. “Could someone lend me a hand and fetch the magic stabilizers? They’re clear and in little vials.”

“Of course.” Dream walked across the room and found the medicine. Core helped him. Fresh stood between them, watching Epic and Ink. His aura was a mix of disappointment and sadness, not too different from how Dream felt. Epic pulled Ink's dress off and shimmed it down to his waist. He paused.

“Holy. Shed.” Epic’s voice sounded tight. “I figured out why the IV didn’t work.”

Dream carried the syringes over and Fresh peered over to view Ink’s now-exposed body. His breath caught in his throat; it was so much worse than he was expecting. No wonder the bone hurt so bad and he had such a little waist. The attack didn’t hit his ribs, it broke through thick plastic and porcelain. Ink had a feminine human-like torso, not a skeleton’s bones. Fluffy stuffing fell out of the battle wound like blood would. In the center of his chest was a dark crescent moon brand. Nightmare turned him into some twisted arts and crafts project.

Core stood on their tiptoes to see better. They pushed their hand to their mouth and gagged, turning away. “Oh my stars, I’m going to vomit.”

“I don’t blame ya. Oh, thanks, bruh.” Epic took the vial and opened Ink's mouth, slowly pouring it in. The stabilizer medicine was usually delivered in syringes, but they couldn't do that. He took off one of Ink’s white lace gloves. A ball-jointed plastic hand was underneath. “I’ve never seen something like this, same as you Core. This type of body modification shouldn’t be possible. He should be long dead. Back in medical school-"

“Ya went to medical school?” Fresh interrupted.

“Yeah, I have a medical degree and a robotics degree. I went a few years ago for personal reasons.” Epic grinned mischievously. “Okay, where was I . . . oh right. Back in medical school, we learned a bit about artificial limbs. But this is something else. There's gotta be some magic involved in keeping him together. He should've died from blood loss when he cut off his arms."

"Nightmare must have found away around that . . . I don't know how." The guilt returned to Core's aura and they looked out the window instead.

Dream noticed Core’s strange behavior. “Core, you looked nervous earlier. Why was that? No one is angry, we just need to know. It could help him. Did you know Ribbon was Ink?"

"No, I didn't." The child hung their head. “Two weeks ago . . . I went to this show outside a Mafiatale variant. I could sense the unnatural activity and it was Nightmare showing Ink off. He called him 'Ribbon'. He gave a speech and then made him sing. I knew there was something off about that whole thing, but I didn’t know it was Ink! His paint mark was covered and he didn’t look like him at all. He was wearing a dress like that except it was blue and more revealing. His voice was so high-pitched it sounded nothing like him. Nightmare made up this story about how he found 'Ribbon' in an abandoned timeline. I feel bad I didn’t do anything but watch."

Dream set their hand on their shoulder. "Don't feel bad, none of us would have known either. Nightmare tricked the entire multiverse into believing Ink was dead and we believed him. We're not calling him Ribbon, we won't let Nightmare win like that." He looked at Ink with his hand still on their shoulder. "But just to be safe . . . can you check Ink's mind? In case Nightmare put any spells on him to hinder his healing."

"Sure . . ." Core removed their hand from Ink's head. They looked at the others. “The test worked. . . . do you guys want the good news or the bad news first?”

Dream tried for a hopeful smile. “The good news first."

“The good news is that whatever Nightmare did improve him. Ink has stronger abilities, senses, and stats than he did before. His ATK and DEF are up almost twenty percent.”

Fresh grinned. “Dat's all great! What’s da bad news?”

Core looked guilty. “Everything that isn’t that. It says his mind has a history of spells, but it does not say which type. Nightmare could be seeing through his eyes for all we know.”

Epic glanced at Ink before tearing off a spare piece of bandage and wrapping it around his eye sockets.

“He was weirdly weak." Epic pondered aloud. "I’ve arm-wrestled Ink before and we were an even match. He won too. That was the night we went skating and he went missing. But I crushed him this time. His arms have almost zero muscle on them. And not just because we’re skeletons, bruh.”

Dream rubbed Ink's head and crouched down, pressing his skull against his. "Can you fix this and make him himself again? Or . . . or is this permanent? Will he live?"

Epic leaned back and crossed his arms. “That’s what it looks like, bruh, he'll be stuck as a weird porcelain doll. But if he’s made it this far and can fight as well as he did, he’s going to be fine. Now the conditioning on the other hand, that needs to be rid of as soon as possible, once he calms down a little.” He snapped a pair of medical gloves on. “Let’s get this taken care of and I’m going to see my brother and check on my girl buddy, Undyne. Her girlfriend, Alphys, died in the corruption and she’s not doing well. Also, I could use a cookie break, I'm still not over my AU getting destroyed."

==============================================================================

Dream hesitated with a breakfast tray in his arms. He’s volunteered at the hospital several times before, but this was the first that made him nervous. He opened the door to Ink’s hospital room, only a crack. Ink was fast asleep. Dream dropped his defense and the corner of his mouth perked up. Ink always was the one who slept in the longest. He could almost imagine everything was right again.

His wrists were bound with the white plush straps Blue brought. So far, they succeeded in keeping him from fighting and/or injuring himself. His legs were also tied to the bed with matching bands. The guardian disliked they had to restrain him at all, but they were soft enough and tied with comfort in mind. It was the best for everyone.

Setting the tray aside, Dream took advantage of his sleepiness to check on his bandages. The ones on his torso were secure and healing nicely. Little smiley face bandages covered his arms and neck where he was test-injected. Dream made the mistake of shifting his t-shirt to see his torso better. Ink’s eyes flashed open. He hissed and Dream pulled the heart string so he could speak.

“B-back off!” Ink cried. His struggle was weak and slow from drowsiness. “Please don’t touch me, sir!”

Dream did as he asked and retracted his hand. Ink shuffled away as much as he could. Fear and anger clouded his aura. He didn’t like anyone, but he had extra apprehensiveness for Dream. He wished his friend wasn’t so scared. Dream shivered, though his jean jacket and sweater should have kept him warm.

“Okay, I won’t touch you, I’m sorry. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’.” He thought he saw a look of confusion cross Ink’s face. Despite the outburst, Dream tried for a bright smile to increase his positive aura and calm his fear. “Are you hungry? The croissants are fresh-baked!”

He shook his head. “No thank you.”

“Just one bite? Please? You haven’t eaten anything in days! You’re going to get sick!”

Ink stared at the food for a long time, ravenous hunger shining through his eyes. He flicked his head away.

Dream sighed and left the tray on the side table. Ink refused to give up his hunger strike. A nurse tried to spoon-feed him the first time he awoke and the only thing he consumed was a panic attack. Crying, flailing, and all. He wouldn’t take any painkillers either; the medicine terrified him more than the food. Core has also tried to force-feed him and he bit their hand hard. Dream thought of using a tube, but with Ink’s new clockwork organs, it would be too risky. They didn’t know how they functioned. Since nothing worked, he decided it was best to wait for Ink’s permission. The guardian pulled up an armchair from the wall and sat beside his friend.

“If you want to help me, I kinda want these bands off.” Ink tugged at his wrists. “I swear, I’ll be good! I won’t fight this time. Please?” He gave him puppy-dog eyes, which were both cuter and more uncanny with the body modifications. “Please?”

Dream looked away. “I can’t do that.” He wanted to. He wanted to so badly, but he knew Ink was lying. He’d make a break for it, run away, and harm someone in the process, maybe even himself. “I’m sorry, it’s for your own good. Once the pink paint wears off, we’ll remove them. I promise. You’ll be able to see clearly.” Ink’s sad smile made Dream feel guilty. “But if you want, I could bring you your sketchbook and some crayons so you could draw while we talk. Blue and I kept it and the rest of your drawings. That way, you would be free and have something to focus on, but I can still keep an eye on you. I would also need to put the restraints back when I leave, sorry. I know you must be bored from doing nothing in this room. I would be too.”

He laughed to lighten the mood, but Ink didn’t join in. On the contrary, he looked more miserable. “I don’t want to draw, all I want is Nightmare.”

Dream stopped laughing and Ink sunk into his pillows, his aura miserable. The two remained quiet for a long time.

Dream carefully planned some questions. It may have been for nothing. Ink remained silent every time he was asked a question, especially if it was about Nightmare. But he had hope with the paint losing effect. One of his old village friends once said something like, ‘If you want to sell a lie, tell them what they want to hear’. Could the same logic apply here?

With a deep breath, he broke the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you see in Nightmare? I know you love him, but how can you fall in love with someone who kidnapped you?”

The artist looked offended. “Nightmare didn’t kidnap me! He asked me on a date. He offered to let me live in his castle as his boyfriend and I said yes. As for why I’m in love with him . . .”

For the first time since his rescue, Ink’s eyes sparkled, filling with life. “Everything, he’s a masterpiece. He’s smart, caring, handsome, mysterious, has an amazing voice . . . I could go on forever. Sure he’s a bit overprotective, but he only means to keep me safe. He made me better and stronger, he wouldn’t protect me if he didn’t care! And he makes me feel special and understood like I’m the most important person in the Doodlesphere. Then there’s his aura. Sounds weird with it being pure negativity, but it’s addicting to be around. I can’t get enough of it! No one else makes me feel the way he does.” His eyes frowned and he looked away from Dream. “I miss my Nightlight.”

Dream froze. He hadn’t heard that nickname in years. Technically centuries, but he didn’t count the time he was frozen in his stone prison. ‘Nightlight’ was the nickname Dream gave his twin when they were children. Nightlight and Daydream. If Nightmare told Ink about the nickname, he must have put a lot of trust in him. Maybe he did see him as something more than a weapon. He didn’t know which option was better. It wasn’t even close to the worst aspect of his answer, but it was the part that disturbed him the most.

Dream decided to keep getting answers while Ink was talking, not risking the chance. “Did he ever hurt you?”

Ink narrowed his eyes, which looked more sinister than angry. He seemed to panic. “No! He never hurt me! Not once!”

Dream’s expression turned firm. “Ink, I know you’re lying. This all started after I didn’t push you to talk, I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll even take a yes or no answer. Did. Nightmare. Hurt you.”

“. . . he’s hit me a few times, but not recently! And I deserved every single punishment! I was too dumb to follow his rules even though he made them easy to understand. And my name isn’t Ink, it’s Ribbon!”

“He hits you?” Dream’s heart hurt. He pressed his jaw together. trying to keep his temper calm. He would let his anger toward Nightmare out in another way, not in front of a traumatized Ink. “Ink, you don’t deserve to be hit by your partner, no matter what you did. You’re not a masochist, I know you. You sometimes joke about pain, but you don’t want it. And for stars’ sake, you are not dumb! What about the dresses? Did he force you to wear them?”

“No! I’m a doll, and dolls must wear dresses, otherwise I’m doing something wrong. He likes it when I wear cutesy things. I like them too, they’re comfy. Nightmare says I look my best when I’m in skirts and bows.”

Dream fiddled with his thumbs. That didn’t sound like Nightmare’s taste at all. Nightmare loved the gothic aesthetic. What twisted game was he playing? “One last question.”

Ink squirmed in his spot. His aura was full of shame. “On that first day, when you were crying and fighting, you called me a liar. Why is that?”

Ink raised a browbone like it was a joke Dream didn’t understand. “You- you know why.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“You do,” the artist said with gritted teeth. It wasn’t in an angry way, more fearful. “Can I ask you a question, sir?”

Dream smiled. “Of course! You know you can ask me anything.”

“Why do you care so much about what happened to me? I don’t get why you’d think twice. Nobody cared when I disappeared, you left me. ”

“Nobody care- that’s not true at all! We stopped searching for you because Killer gave us your scarf and told us you were dead!” All the built-up stress from the past few months tumbled out of Dream. He raised his voice. “I thought you were being used as a living training dummy or kept as a slave! But I never could’ve guessed that you- that you became so . . .” Dream gestured his hand around, unable to find the words. He eventually gave up. “Everyone misses you and we need you. The Doodlesphere has been falling apart without you protecting it. no world is safe from Error or Nightmare. Fresh, Core, and I are patrolling it, but it’s getting more difficult each day. So many monsters and humans are losing hope thanks to the constant Code Purples! They’re getting worse and more violent! Come on, Ink, I know you’re still in there. Buried under brainwashing and lies, but something in you has to hear me. Please. We’re friends, remember?”

For a brief moment, something in Ink’s expression changed. Regret? Realization? Embarrassment? No matter the emotion, the artist was lost in his mind, his eyes resembling a child who made a grave mistake. Then he hit himself against the headboard again, hard with each word. “Idiot! You’re so weak-minded! Gullible! Bad doll! Bad doll!”

“Stop that!” The guardian took the round pillow from his armchair and set it between Ink and the headboard. He’d need something more permanent if he was going to keep this up. “You’re not any of those things! You’re just confused right now, and that’s okay. We’re going to help you get better-”

“I’m stupid for believing the lies of a brother killer!” Ink halted as Dream went still. “Nightmare told me everything. I know all about that mysterious past of yours. Your naivety and selfishness got him bullied and turned him into a monster. And then you were using me to get stronger by taking advantage of my magic. And-and everyone took advantage of me! Everyone knows I’m as dumb as a rock. Nightmare rescued me from you!” He shook with a crazed look. “All of you . . .”

Dream was speechless. Nightmare had to have exaggerated the story, he knew he did, but it still stung. He couldn’t believe Ink’s self-esteem was this low. “I-”

“Don’t answer that! I hate you, Dream! I hate you so much! You don’t care about me! You just want to manipulate me like everyone else!” Ink thrashed in his restraints and started to wail.

The Guardian of Positivity didn’t know what to say. He wanted to take his pain away but didn’t know how. He couldn’t fix this problem. He slowed his breath down and sighed. He stood up and trudged toward the door. The handle was freezing in his hand. He resisted the urge to look back at Ink. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.” He opened the door and crashed into another skeleton.

Dream and Fresh both fell into the white hallway, Dream on top of Fresh. He rolled off. The parasite rubbed his head and Dream readjusted his jean jacket. He had no disdain towards Fresh, but he was hoping no one would be out here so he could have a good cry. His head pounded and he rubbed his eye sockets.

“Sorry ‘bout dat, Dreamboat! How’s Inky-brah?” Fresh asked as he stood up. He kept his word and didn’t tell anyone Ink was alive, other than the nurses, doctors, and a few of their friends. The artist’s condition was too unstable to be known to the public.

“Um . . .” Dream peered back into the room. Ink still shook, cried in hysteria, and muttered something to himself. Something with the word monsters. If he kept his behavior up, he would need to be sent to special care. Dream shivered at the thought of Ink in a straitjacket. He would hate it, it would terrify him more. Dream turned to Fresh. “He’s not doing well. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, sorry. We had an argument and . . . we were both hurt.”

Fresh frowned and he stared into Ink’s room. “Still? Geez, he’s been a real downer . . .”

Dream sensed his aura and set a hand on his arm. "He'll get better. Core and I are working on getting him therapy so he can remember who he is. He's just a little confused right now, it will be fine. Come on

Fresh looked back at Ink's room one more time and decided to follow Dream. Ink would have likely started crying again at the sight of him. They walked through the hospital hallways. A few doctors and nurses walked past, continuing business as usual. Their footsteps echoed through the sterile hall.

How could this happen? How could everything go so wrong? It was all too much. First Ink’s disappearance, then the drop in positivity, then the corrupted worlds, and now this. Dream wanted everything to return to normal, for his brother’s sick game to end.

And it was all his fault.

He was the reason Ink was abducted, tortured, and brainwashed. He was the reason all those worlds and innocents died from corruption. He was the reason everyone was suffering. It was all so Nightmare could steal the last golden apple. If he gave him what he wanted, would the darkness go away? He looked up at Fresh.

No, he had to stay positive. Smile for the others, give them hope.

He and Fresh made it to the hospital lounge. It was white with a few black seats and small tables. Visiting hours have been restricted since Ink showed up, so it was empty except for one person. Core Frisk sat alone on a chair, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. They read a book written in Wingdings. As leader of the Omega Timeline, they had special privileges. They sensed Dream and Fresh before they opened either of their mouths.

“Is Ink still- oh no, something happened,” Core noted, wiping a spare chocolate drip from their face. Bandages wrapped around their right hand where Ink bit them.

“No, I-” Dream sighed and wiped his eye sockets as he sat on the chair beside Core. They were met with a wave of dizziness. “Yes, something happened. Ink hasn’t stopped asking for Nightmare. I coaxed a few answers out of him and he said some . . . hurtful things.”

Core set their book down, suddenly looking concerned. “What did he say?”

“He explained the dresses and why he loves Nightmare. It’s because . . .” He felt sick remembering Ink’s worshipping look and couldn’t finish the thought. “Stars, he has Ink wrapped around his bloody finger. He can’t think about anything else but him."

“And he was shakin' and cryin' in dere. I'm all up and talkin' with him, but he didn't make a peep, so I dipped!" Fresh leaned against the chair with his hand on the armrest. His arm grazed Dream and he paused. Fresh patted the sides of his cheekbones. "Hol' up. Dream, ya burning hot.”

"I am?” The guardian placed a hand on his forehead. “Strange, I’ve been feeling cold all morning. Now that you mention it, I’ve had this weird dizzy headache too. Maybe I should drink some water.”

Core watched him with concern. “I can get some for you if you want to lay back a while. You’ve been working non-stop.”

“Thank you, but it’s no trouble. You shouldn’t need to-” Dream collapsed onto the floor, barely catching the table. His head swam and ached; his throat hurt. The whites and grays of the lounge merged. His teeth chattered from the unknown source of cold.

“DREAM!” Fresh and Core each caught one of his arms and dragged him back toward the couch. The guardian didn’t resist as they pushed him on.

“I can sense your magic is unstable.” Core said, clenching and unclenching her hands. Dream didn’t argue. "I need to grab a thermometer so you-"

"No need, gotcha already." Fresh snapped his fingers and a painted thermometer. He tossed it over to Core. They almost missed it, but they caught it.

“Oh . . . thank you. Dream, open up.” Core stuck a thermometer under Dream’s tongue. A few seconds passed before they pulled it out. Their void-like eyes went wide. “Holy stars, you have a fever of a hundred and seven! Dream, you're very sick! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Dream heaved air and tried to steady himself, preparing for a dizzy spell. “Because . . . I didn’t think it was that bad. And it isn’t. Ink and Nightmare are much more important, especially Ink. He needs us, he needs me.” He sat up with his cape loosely hanging over his shoulders. “I don’t have time to rest. I have so much work to do and-”

“Nuh-uh!” Fresh pushed him back down. “Ya can’t get any sicker than ya are now. Da multiverse will be fine, I can watch it! Y'all keep forgetting I'm a guardian and have radical superpowers now!”

“That's true . . . okay.” Chuckling, Dream had to admit, he was quite tired. He lay on the couch and let sleep take him within minutes.

He awoke to a dark hall. A massive glass window graced the back of the room and showed a rainy night. The decorations of flowers and white silk banners suggested a party of some kind. Or an event. A glimmering chandelier dangled from the ceiling.

But despite the breathtaking interior, signs of a recent battle littered the place. Bones stuck out of the rubble from the walls and ceiling. Blood and clothes were scattered about, even a broken Gaster Blaster head. Nightmare's malice dripped across the room. Dream realized he was standing in his castle. Muffled screams sounded from the hall behind him, but he couldn't make out any voice in particular.

Core Frisk stepped through a white portal. Their face was frozen in shock like they witnessed a traumatic tragedy. They weren’t paying attention to where they were walking and almost hit one of the bones. They frowned until they saw what was hanging on it. A dark blue scarf. Core took a shaky breath as they stared at the scarf in their hands.

“Core . . . help!”

The child looked around the room and spotted Cross trapped under rubble and sludge. He shivered, beaten and bleeding. His body was covered in scratches, scars, and burns. His left hand was caked in a hard layer of malice. Dream fought as hard as he could to reach for and comfort him, save him. But he couldn’t move or offer help.

Core ran over to his side. Cross’s ribcage was broken open and he lay in a pool of blood and grime. His fingers twitched.

“Cross, where’s everyone else? Where’s Dream? Where’s Epic? Blue? Or Error? Is he . . . dead?” Core asked as they crouched down beside him. They held up the scarf.

Cross groaned and tried to shift under the rocks. He moaned and fell back down. “They . . . Nightmare took Blue and Dream. They said something about Error, but I didn’t catch what they said. Sorry, kid.”

Core stood still, their dark eyes staring into nothing. Their coordination was off as they tried to lift the fallen pillar off of Cross. Their nine-year-old arms couldn’t lift it. Glancing between Core and the archway, Cross gritted his teeth. “Leave me here. One of them is going to be back any second and-”

A clatter rattled from behind Core. Core looked up and before they could react, they were slammed against the rock with blue magic. Horror held his hand out and chuckled. He wore a ripped black suit, unlike his usual jacket. Core struggled and pulled for their freedom, but it was no use. Horror slammed them down again and knocked them out. Cross screamed.

“Lucky . . . day.” Horror grinned. He breathed heavily. “Boss . . . is goin’ . . . be happy about this . . .”

The scene changed. The ruined castle was gone. Instead, five skeletons and a human child were held in a dungeon. They all wore silver Anti-Magic cuffs on their wrists, pulsating with purple magic. Blue tried to lockpick his way out of the cage. Cross kicked and punched the stone wall, not caring about his bleeding knuckles. Epic tossed a scrap of paper in the air as he lay on the floor. Error paced around in circles, occasionally grabbing his bars and shaking them. Core sat cross-legged on the ground, tracing lines on the floor. In the final cell, Dream saw himself, lying in the corner, thin, and bruised up. His eye lights were dim, losing strength from the negativity in the place.

“Bruh, you’re going to break your knuckles. Calm down, you’re not getting anywhere.” Epic scolded Cross.

Cross dropped his hand down to his side and sighed. He looked down at it, covered in blood and scratched bones. He slumped down on the bench in his cell. “I don't care, it's the one thing keeping me sane right now."

“Cross, please.” Dream’s voice was quiet and monotone. He barely looked up. "Don't hurt yourself more than you are now. You have to save your strength, you're already weak."

Error's fingers scratched the bars, echoing across the entire dungeon. "Don't pull that 'oh I'm so selfless and so worried about everyone!" crap on me." He spoke in glitchy falsetto to mock Dream's voice. "This is all your fault. You got everyone involved when you couldn't wait one more day to rescue stupid Ink. I could be in the Anti-Void right now laughing at this but noooooo, you needed my help."

Dream narrowed his eye sockets. "I didn't make you! And I didn't mean to screw this up! I said I'm sorry a hundred times! Again, I'm sorry!"

Core stood up. "Stop arguing, all of you. It won't free us. You both have points. Nightmare will either become bored and kill us or let us go with a twist. We need to stay patient and determined."

They stayed silent and went back to their former activities. Blue almost broke his lock, but then he stopped. He cupped his hand to the side of his skull and listened.

The floor broke open beneath them, and they all fell through the floor of their cells into portals. Instead of finishing, the dream changed. Nightmare stormed through the door of what appeared to be the Omega Hall. The colors faded into monochrome black and gray. It was dead silent with only the occasional whisper of wind against the banners. He opened the door to the meeting hall. It was as empty as the rest of the desolate building, but someone was there.

Dream gasped as he recognized the variant from his hallucination back in Candytale. The other him stared out the window with a blank stare. The Omega Timeline was barren and lifeless, only zombies created from malice wandered. Dream scrunched his face at the sight of his home destroyed. How could something like this happen? The fake Dream turned to Nightmare and bowed at his presence. "Hello. Can I help you, Your Highness?"

"I do. Come here." Nightmare pointed at the ground and the fake Dream kneeled before him. The moon mark glowed brighter. Nightmare pushed his hood down and his chin up. "Did you find them, yet?"

The fake Dream shook his head. "No, but I have found some of their group members in captivity. They're set to be executed tomorrow morning. I have troops surrounding the timeline. I found out from one of them that they're after your baby doll. They're going to torture him until you step down from your throne."

Nightmare's expression tightened and his tendrils waved, almost sending the banners down. "Thank you for the information. I'm not ending my rule, but I'll keep Ribbon inside the castle until they're taken care of." He turned around. "A progress check was all I needed, you may continue your work. But next time there's noticeable gain, report to me immediately, do you understand?"

"Understood, Your Highness." Dream said. The real Dream sensed the bitterness in his voice. He didn't like that version of himself. He couldn't feel hate, but it was close."

He left Dream alone. Nightmare opened a portal to his bedroom and lay on his bed. He pinched his nasal bridge and took a deep breath. A while later, the door opened, and Ink stepped inside.

“Nighty, is everything okay? You look sad.” Ink looked like he did in his hospital room, only his outfit was different. He wore a pastel pink and white dress and a pink beret with a bow on it. He held a baby skeleton in a blue onesie in his arms. He had black star markings gracing his skull.

Nightmare sat up. He smiled at Ink as if nothing was wrong. “I’m fine, my sweet doll.” He kissed his foreskull and then kissed the baby. “How come Crescendo isn’t in bed? Is Aurora?”

“I couldn’t get him to sleep, so I thought walking around and rocking him would do it, but Aurora is sleeping. It’s working.” Ink rocked the baby. "Maybe he was worried about you!"

Nightmare watched him with pure adoration and kissed his cheek. Dream could sense the emotions in his soul, but he wouldn’t call them love. No, this was something much darker, more dangerous, more toxic.

The scene changed one more time. Dream looked around and touched a soft white cloud. The sky was a pleasant pink with droplets of purple and blue. His back felt strangely heavy. He found out he could move when he turned his head to the left and stroked the feathery gold wing.

“Daydream?”

The guardian spun around. The voice had the same British accent as he does. He turned around to a skeleton not much taller than he was. He wore a purple vest over a white dress shirt. His eye light matched his clothes. The right side of his face was a gash of melted and broken bone. Atop his skull was a gold crown with a moon symbol in the center. Dream teared up, but this time, they were tears of joy.

“Nightlight!” Dream ran to his twin and threw his arms around him. The long-lost brothers hugged each other, neither wanting to let go. Dream’s fingers traced over something velvety. Confused, he removed them to a purple feather lodged between his fingers. Nightmare had wings. Angel wings, just like his, only far larger.

“Even after five hundred years, you’re still a crybaby,” Nightmare teased. He laughed, and Dream didn’t realize how much he missed the sound. He drew back once “Hey, what’s wrong? We’re together now.”

Dread and failure consumed Dream’s thoughts, though the latter was confusing. He thought of several failures, but none of them felt quite right. “I’m dead.”

Nightmare sighed. “You did your best. I watched the whole fight, that monster overcame you. But you were brave, really brave. He tricked you, that wasn’t your fault.”

"Which wasn't my fault?" Dream panicked. He didn't know what Error spoke of, nor Nightmare now. "Please, tell me so I can fix it before it happens."

“You don't remember? Oh, well it will only hurt you if I say it. Speaking of saying . . . um . . . there’s no way I can put this lightly. Your friend, Ink was it? He doesn’t exist. His mind is so far gone that even if he falls in battle, he’ll still be Ribbon in the afterlife." Nightmare looked guilty and stared at the ground.

Dream's smile faded. Nightmare noticed and kept talking. "But not all is lost. You still have a chance to rescue him. You can do it, brother. I believe in you. Don't lose hope yet."

Nightmare stepped away from him. His boots faded into wisps of air as his voice began to trail off, slowly growing louder. Dream . . . Dream . . .

“Dream! DREAM! Wake up!” Cross shook his shivering body awake. “It’s alright, wake up. It’s not real.”

Dream’s skull dripped with sweat. Seeing he was safe and not in that horrible dungeon with bloody knuckles made him cry. He hugged him with full force.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Shit . . . that must have been a worse nightmare than I thought . . .” Cross spoke mostly to himself. He returned the hug and rubbed the back of his skull. His aura was perplexed and worried. “What did you dream about? I thought you couldn’t get nightmares.”

“I can’t.” The fact scared him. He never had a nightmare in his life, only pleasant dreams or none at all. Through the tears, Dream explained the vision to his boyfriend. He left out the part about seeing Nightmare pre-corrupted. He told Cross about Nighty a few times prior, but it hurt too much now.

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt Nightmare would keep you in a fancy coffin for all of eternity, that’s not like him at all. I could handle a rock falling on me too.” Cross sat down and laid an arm across his shoulders as he drank it. The corner of Dream’s mouth curved up. “Everyone’s fine. I talked to Epic and Blue about five minutes ago and they told me about Ink’s . . . condition. The Stockholm Syndrome hit him hard, didn’t it?”

Dream nodded. “It’s not even that alone. Nightmare made him believe he’s a doll named Ribbon. He dressed him in cutesy dresses, altered his body, changed the way he speaks and acts, and Ink is obedient to a tee. It’s so . . . creepy. Ink thinks it’s love, Nightmare thinks it’s duplicity. But he didn’t break him, yet. I know it. The real Ink heard me! Even if it was for only a few seconds.”

“Are you sure? Dream, I believe you, but I also believe you're taking on too much negativity. You can't handle the Code Purples, Nightmare, Ink, and your mental health at the same time. It's killing your soul and we can all feel it." Cross touched Dream's chest with his finger. He pulled out his soul. It darkened from the pure gold to a dim gold, yet it still shined.

"But . . ." Dream gasped as a painful tingle vibrated through his body. The same feeling he had whenever there was a strong source of negativity. Whenever . . . him.

“Nightmare!” The Guardian of Positivity jumped as if he was shocked with electricity. “Nightmare’s back. He’s in the hospital. He has to be close to Ink.”

“This is exactly what I mean. You have that shield around the base, it's impossible for Nightmare to get in here. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll check it out. Besides, I want to see this ‘dollified Ink’ for myself. I’ll be back.” Cross grabbed his daggers and ran out of the room.

Dream stood up to follow him, but he was met with a wave of dizziness and sat back down. He put his hands together and prayed to the Creators that it was a mishap. And that he would get better so he wasn’t useless like this.

24 notes · View notes

bibi-likes-to-draw · 4 months

Text

‘Ello, Tumblr!

(Screen)name’s Bibi Likes To Draw (you can call me Bibi) and I like drawing, animation and having a fun time with my art!

For my art look at the tag art and for my text posts look at the tag text posts

DNI Of You Are…

A Troll

Ableist

Homophobic

Transphobic

Aphobic

A Racist

A MAP

A Zoo

If You Use My Art, Here’s How To Credit Me!

If you use my art in a pfp or a banner, please credit me in this format: [original photo/photo] by Bibi Likes To Draw

For the blue space, if you are putting the credit in you intro post or tumblr bio, you can just do it as a mention, but if you are putting it on another social, make sure my blog link is there.

Feel free to redraw any of my art, just as long as you credit me with the aforementioned format on your post!

Do not just repost or trace my art, even with credit. Thx!

I Take Art Requests! Here Are Things That I Am Not Ok With Drawing!

NSFW (I’m 14!)

Ships with characters under the age of ten

Ships between adults and minors

Ships with power dynamics

Codependent ships

Incest

Excessive gore (light gore and other forms of horror are fine, just don’t ask for anything too graphic!)

Anything that insights hate or violence towards any sort of minorities

Stuff About Me/Favorites Lists

I use any pronouns, I plan to take commissions soon, (but not yet!) My birthday is October 16, I do animation and illustrate, and my favorite fandoms are as follows (current hyper fixation in bold);

The Owl House

Undertale

Pokémon

Yo-Kai Watch

Kirby

Mother/Earthbound

Gravity Falls

Big City Greens

Sans AUs/UTMV (yes, it is it’s own fandom, fight me)

Sailor Moon

Rise of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Bendy and the Ink Machine

Baldi’s Basics

The Amazing Digital Circus

Super Smash Bros.

Bomberman

Epic Micky

And some of my favorite visual artists/animators are

@duchesscelestia

@zan-hoshi

@lamemummy59

Danna Terrace

Josh David McKenny (Pidgin Doll)

Cudlil

Ello Mellow

Nirami

Gigi

Fionapollo

Get Madz

@itsnicsalad

Kitten Sneeze

Dan Povenmire

Cinnamon_Mushroom :D

Twisted Doctor

Gooseworx

Aimkid

Most all of theses artists are ether on here, YouTube and/or TicTok, so go show ‘em some love!

Also some of my favorite music artists/groups are

Jack Stauber

Toby Fox

Jaroslav Beck

Tom Cardy

The Greatest Bits

Keiichi Suzuki

Hirokazu Tanaka

Koji Kondo

Boom Kitty

The Living Tombstone

Hirokazu Ando

Jun Ishikawa

Gooseworx

Stuff I Make

Illustration and animation for the most part, but I plan to branch out into other creative endeavors soon! I am open to art requests!

My side blogs just for silliness! @bibi-likes-to-reblog, @ask-the-bombermen, @i-love-ac-bob,and @jokesupersmashbrospolls

My other socials: YouTube, Unvale

Any ways, have fun out there, random strangers on the internet! And may you day be better than the last!

#meet the artist #meet the artist meme #about myself #stuff i like #lists #favorite artists #my favourite #favorite #favorite music #digtal art #my art #art #art of me #pined post #masterlist #master post #updated #updated masterlist #masterpost

33 notes · View notes

bellagrimfox · 2 months

Text

Mickey Mouse Headcanons/Ideas for Epic Mickey

Headcanons

Mickey's connection to the blot means that he can communicate with the Shadow Blot telepathically.

Mickey would prefer to use Paint but he has used Thinner for both fights and for light pranks.

Mickey doesn't believe the Thinner is entirely evil but is aware of the consequences of overusing it.

The blot is a manifestation of Mickey's concern with how Walt's dream is being treated nowadays.

Mickey has rare vision dreams that predict his fate or the fate of his friends.

Mickey can speak to Tints and Turps and is the only one who can understand them.

Mickey can temporarily morph himself into his previous designs, mostly for tricks and jokes.

One of his favorite parades is the Main Street Electrical Parade and he was so happy to see it come back.

Mickey remembers his clubhouse/preschool shows fondly, even if people in the Real World don't.

Mickey does what he can to make sure Toons don't stay forgotten, though some things are out of his hands.

Ideas

This is gonna use a mix of original ideas and scrapped content to see if I can use any of them in a way that fits with the canon lore.

Mickey's connection with the paintbrush technically allows him to use his ink powers with his hands. The issue is that the more he does it, the more fragile his body becomes, draining his colors and messing up his body. Will appear in Epic Mickey 2.

Due to recent issues involved with Disney, Mickey wonders if he's better off being forgotten since his image is stuck in a place between being loved and being hated by the public. This idea may be expanded in Epic Mickey 2.

Mickey can fuse with the Tints and Turps to create temporary forms that strengthen either Paint or Thinner or both at the same time. The downside is that the Guardians magic is very limited and too much can erase them completely.

Mickey getting new types of Paint and Thinner colors. (To be extended in world-building post)

Mickey getting a gas mask inspired by the real life WW2 masks that was supposed to be for kids so he can avoid getting too much Thinner in his lungs. This would only be for cases in which he has to use so much or he's in an environment that forces him to wear one. Of course he finds absolutely nothing wrong with the mask itself, nope not at all.

He still hates war at least.

And finally, his Tints and Turps get special designs in Epic Mickey 2 thanks to their strong connection to him. These designs would be inspired by the Tokyo Disney Resort Summer Splash water drop mascot designs.

I might draw my own design using these during the times I'm not doing college work.

That's all for now but up next is Oswald and boy do I have plenty of ideas for him.

#epic mickey rebrushed #epic mickey #epic mickey 2 #oswald the lucky rabbit #mickey mouse #headcanon #my post #story ideas #disney

34 notes · View notes

yet-another-heathen · 2 months

Text

Unrest - VI

1,183 words. Original Work: The Jackal of An-Nadr.

For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, worlds that are as vivid and alive as the characters, and the agonizing loss being dragged away from home into a life you never asked for.

<< | previous | next | >>

Content Warning | epic worldbuilding, multi-character argument, discussion of murder, generational trauma, decision to enslave a captive, xenophobia (this is a very light one)

Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump @whump-queen

“That isn’t what I would call ‘powerless’, Al-Mantaqi,” the Quartermaster interrupted, “Sick or no, hurt or no, there is no mistaking what the dirtblood’s voice means. I have already broken up two fights in the last hour, and tensions are only getting worse. It cannot stay here.”

Ifyaa shifted uncomfortably, irritation written all over his face, “Just what do you propose we do with it? Dump it back into the desert and leave it to die in the wastes?” His eyes narrowed. “Or would you rather an execution so the crew can watch? That would be sure to settle their nerves."

The tip of Adrsiae’s blade ground softly into the wooden table as the twisted the hilt the other direction, so deep in thought that she didn’t seem to realize the damage she was doing to her prized desk.

Hidhialial held Ifyaa’s gaze, and then sighed. He readjusted the swords at his belt and wiped a hand down his face.

With a small gesture of soreness, he pulled out another chair and settled stiffly into it. For once, he looked tired enough to show his age. “You know that isn’t what I want.”

A long moment of unbroken silence passed around the table.

The Captain spoke for the first time since they had entered her cabin, “Keeping a Son of Solomon aboard ship paints a target on our back that our entire world will turn its eyes to." She looked up at Hidhialial. “Including some powers that we would rather not have looking.”

"It's too late to keep the news contained. Everyone aboard already knows what we've found." Ifyaa pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wish we'd learned about it before exposing the whole crew. All hope of keeping this quiet just died between our teeth."

"There's nothing to be done for it now," Hidhialial said quietly. "If news gets to the cities, we'll have sentinels breathing down our backs within a fortnight. And if news gets to other ships? Well. The Oryx is fast, but a sparrow can only outrun a hawk for so long."

Adrsiae's voice was hard, "Killing it may be our only real option."

Hid sighed, closing his eyes. "No. I don't think it is. Not unless we want to be drowning in worse nightmares in another few decades."

"What do you mean?"

A look passed behind Hid's eyes that was almost one of pain. He didn't want to speak of this, every one of them could see it on his face. "They're coming faster every century. A millennia ago there were none. Now? There have been three in my lifetime alone, and that's only counting the ones we know about." Quietly, "Kill one, and two more are born. We can't keep on like this. With every death, history grows closer to repeating itself."

For a long while, that suggestion sat heavy over the four of them. That was a silence that was hard to break.

“Then we take it to Bu Mahmata,” Yeezumon said. All eyes, even the Captain’s, turned to him. The marigold-yellow fabric of the human’s turban spun through his hands, idly brushing over the embroidery at the edges. “The slavers would pay half the city to get their hands on it, and from there we can take our leave of the matter.”

“The Holy City is more than five months’ sail from here. If the crew doesn’t turn itself inside out by then, certainly other ships would have their claws in us by the time we see the city walls.”

“Do you really think the crew would so readily betray us?”

For a long moment there was silence.

Adrsiae closed her eyes. “As much as I see these people as family, fear has a terrible way of leaking through the cracks. We cannot go forward under the assumption that the discovery will stay quiet.”

“Then we’ll offer them a share,” said Yeezumon.

Ifyaa looked toward his husband, alarmed. But Yeezumon placed a hand over his to quiet his protests, and then continued.

“One part in sixty to each of the crew members. For a Son? That is the same as almost five year’s pay to each of them, and I think you will find even the more contemptuous a lot more likely to hold their tongue for that much gold.”

The room went quiet, considering their offer. All was still, and eventually Hidhialial looked toward his Captain.

“It could work,” he said softly. “It incentivizes each and every one of them to keep their tongues under lock and key, and may even be enough to quell some of the tension.”

“But what is to be done with the human in the meantime?” Ifyaa asked. “We can’t just lock it in the hold. If we do, it will be broken and insane by the time we make it to the Holy City. Even a Son can’t be sold in that kind of condition.”

“For now it is in no condition to go anywhere but the infirmary and our cabin," said Yeezumon. "It may not be possible to keep it entirely out of sight, but at the very least we can keep it contained."

“Do you think that will be enough to satisfy the crew?” the Captain asked Hidhialial.

He let out a soft grunt, settling back into his chair. And then he conceded, “There is only one way to find out.”

She gave him a small nod. Then she turned to Yeezumon. “You do realize that as soon as this is offered to the crew it would become blood-bound. Are you prepared to uphold that promise?”

Yeezumon looked toward Ifyaa. What seemed like worlds passed between them, before Ifyaa gave his hand a small squeeze. Then he let out a breath and turned back toward his Captain.

“I don't see any other way out of this. And if the crew is going to be risking their lives, they deserve a share. I'm sure.”

She held his gaze for another long moment, then gave a small nod.

“So be it. I will leave the negotiation of rules between the two of you. Bring them to me before you share them with the crew. Ifyaa, it will fall to you to keep it alive between here and Bu Mahatma. Whatever resources you need, take them."

He touched his fingers to his temple. "Yes, Captain."

"Good." Adrsiae sank back in her chair, finally pulling the dagger free of her table. "Now get out of here, the lot of you. I need time to think."

They obeyed. Just before Yeezumon followed the others out, the Captain called after him.

"Yeezumon." She was watching him from her chair. There was an intensity to those copper-grey eyes that he had rarely seen without a sword in her hand. It had never before been directed at him. “The crew will hold you to your promise. But remember, I will be holding you to it as well.”

The weight of those words was not lost on him. He let out a slow breath and touched his fingers to his temple. "Yes, Captain."

next | >>

Like this chapter? Please remember it can only be seen by other people if you reblog!

#whump #whumpblr #whump series #whump writing #writeblr #defiant whumpee #historical whump #monsterfucker #monsterfucking

21 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs