#mentioned blue sans
Text
Going Back the Way We’ve Come
Yelllow there everyone! I actually hadn’t planned on writing anythin g for the Dream Tournament, but here we are. I saw ‘angst potential’ and was drawn in like a moth.
Now, while not the best thing ever, I had fun writing this. I hope you have just as much fun reading it.
The Dream Tournament was hosted by @nashdoesstuff, so be sure to go and give them some love. They did a wonderful job and it was very fun!
Happy reading!!
Fandom: Undertale/UTMV
Characters: (Original) Dream (Who belongs to Joku), (One Small Dream) Nightmare, (One Small Dream) Dream (Who belong to @calcium-cat) and mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet), mentioned Bad Sanses, and mentioned Blue (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce)
Warnings: No major ones that I can think of. Let me know!
Summary: “It’s the finale of the Dream Tournament. OSD!Nightmare has finally caught up to his brother. He just wants to go home, but OSD!Dream wants to finish something first. While wiating, Nightmare has a conversation with OG!Dream. (UTMV, OSD!Nightmare Sans Centric)”
Word Count: 3273
~oOo~
Nightmare gazed up at the tree, black apples on one side and golden apples on the other, both glistening in the sun. Around him, there was grass and flowers and trees, much like how there was in his childhood before the villagers arrived.
Of course…when he finally catches up, they’re back at the beginning.
How symbolic.
Gritting his teeth, he moved forward. If he found Dream soon, then they could leave without lingering; the sooner they left all of this in the past, the better. He had never wanted to come back here for as long as he lived. It felt like a nightmare to be here. He wanted to leave before he was forced to talk with the ‘original’ Dream. Depending on when he was from, it might not be too bad, but if he was from any time after the Apple Incident…
Well. They just better get home fast.
“…and then Nighty found me and re-reassued me and it was all good again.” Dream’s voice faded in, and he found himself relaxing. At least this should be the last dimension they arrive at. They can go home now.
Good. He needed a nap.
“Reassured.” A smoother, deeper voice said, making Nightmare freeze. He knew that voice like the back of his hand. “That’s good. I’m glad.”
“Yeah. Nighty’s the best brother ever.”
A laugh. “I’m sure he is.”
Swallowing, he chose to ignore all the complicated feelings assigned to that voice and pressed on. He arrived at the tree and stepped around it until he encountered two figures sitting by the base of it. One young, one older.
One was his Dream. He recognized him anywhere.
The other…
Inhaling, Nightmare called, “Dream?”
Both figures looked up, but his gaze was fixed on his brother. Dream blinked, something in his hands, and then beamed.
“Nightmare!” He ran up to him, then paused a foot away. “Wait. You are my Nightmare, right?”
Laughing a bit, he knelt. “Yes, I am.”
“Nighty!” Dream exclaimed again, hugging him.
He hugged back, letting himself soak it in. Once Dream let go, he kept him close, looking him over. “Are you alright?”
Dream nodded. “Mmhmm! I’m good. And I’ve made lots of new friends, all versions of me. One was a giant mermaid. Did you see? I hope you got to meet him. He was really cool. Then there was a couple that were goopy like you are, which was also pretty cool.” Taking a breath, he pointed behind him. “And then there’s him, who’s like, the original? I think? That’s what the others called him, anyway. And we’ve been making flower crowns and talking and…”
As Dream continued his tale, Nightmare looked at the other skeleton in this world. He had wanted to just keep ignoring him until they left, but he could only ignore being stared at for so long. When he turned, the other immediately looked away, in hopes of not being caught, fiddling with his flower crown.
There he was. He looked just like Dream had before the suppressor malfunctioned, clothes and all. And yet, at the same time, he looked different. Most of it wasn’t physical, invisible things he could swear weren’t there before. Or maybe it had just been too long since he saw his brother like this. This version had the crown and cape, but his movements were quieter, trained to be blending in. He had scars across what looked like every surface of visible bone, light shadows underneath his eyes. His aura was muted, though he couldn’t tell if that was this Dream’s doing or this worlds.
Seeing him again this way brought back some shadows of the anger he had. They were only wisps of emotions, things he hadn’t had time to resolve. They wanted him to do something, to finally fulfill his word from what felt like years ago, way back in the cell.
But Nightmare pushed them away. This is not his brother, he reminded himself. He looks the same and acts the same, but he’s different. He is different. This is the original. This is not his brother and he will not treat him as such.
Perhaps they should go home now.
He cleared his throat. “Dream.”
His brother cut himself off. “Yeah?”
“Are you ready to go home?”
“Uh.” Dream turned and looked around the world as he thought. “I think so…wait. Wait!” As Nightmare waited, he ran back to where he was sitting, picked up his crown, and came back. He was frowning. “I never made you a flower crown. I was going to once I got done my current one, which is for Orie, but I’m still slow at making them so it’s taking a bit and then you got here and I got distracted.” He looked up, pleading. “Can we go home after I make your crown?”
Nightmare inhaled. He wanted to say no. He really wanted to just be home already. “I’m not sure—”
“Orie won’t mind.” Dream turned to the other Dream—Orie? Short for Original? It was…creative, that’s for sure. “Can we stay for a little bit?”
Orie looked up, blinked, and smiled. “Of course. Though, you may need to pick some more flowers. I’m afraid I used quite a bit with mine.” He did sound genuine, lifting his crown to show him.
“That’s okay. Your crown is amazing. Use all the flowers you need.” Dream reassured, happy. He handed his crown to Nightmare. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could protest, his brother ran towards the flowers across the field.
Huffing, he crossed his arms, tentacles flicking in annoyance.
“You are welcome to take a seat.” The other Dream—Orie—said, sounding hesitant. “It might be a bit before he’s back.”
He refused to look at him. “We aren’t staying long. Once his crown is finished, we’ll be out of your hair.”
Orie laughed. “I have no hair for you to get out of anyway. And I really don’t mind. You can stay for as long as you need, or want. It’s nice to have some company.”
Nightmare wavered before sighing. He sat down, one arm braced on his knee.
“The villagers…?”
“They don’t exist in this place. I don’t think this world is even my home. I’m not sure about yours. My mother was cut down during…well, you know what I mean. I think this place is a mix of both our homes, in hopes of making us both comfortable.” Falling silent, he grabbed a flower and weaved it into his crown, voice lowering. “And if the villagers had existed here, I don’t think I would like to talk to them that much.”
“Aren’t they your friends?” Nightmare wasn’t able to cut all of the bitterness out of his voice.
“They were. Remember, even though I may look like him, I am not your brother. I am a version of him, as you are a version of my brother. Your Dream mentioned a tournament of Nightmare’s, similar to this one. I’m sure you already know that. My story is different than yours is, no matter how similar they may be in text.”
Nightmare said nothing back, just watched his brother pick flowers and get distracted by something, crouching down to poke at it—an insect, probably.
“If I may?” Orie started. When Nightmare hummed, he continued, “Why is your brother a child? He gave a brief explanation, but I feel there’s more to it.” Nightmare was silent for long enough that he added, “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.”
A beat passed.
Then, Nightmare closed his eyes. “No, it’s fine.” He sighed again, leaning back. “You’re right. There is more to it. I captured him as an adult and held him in a cell for a bit. My plan was to get a magic suppressor from Sci and have Dream drink it. It would make it so he couldn’t use his magic. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t…fight back. I was going to torture him and make him pay for what he did to me.”
Remembering who he was saying this to, he shifted uncomfortably. Orie made no move to tell him to stop. He looked away anyway, gazing at his brother. “It didn’t go as planned.”
“Turned him into a child.”
“Yes. And he’s been living with us ever since.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “There…I did ask Sci to make an antidote, but…”
“You are having doubts about using it, turning him back.” Orie finished for him. It seems that, different version or not, Dream always knew what he was thinking.
And he was usually right.
Nightmare quieted.
Orie followed.
From across the field, bright laughter sounded.
Orie shifted. “Nightmare,” he said. Nightmare twitched at the sound of his name, half turning. He couldn’t make himself go all the way. A hand fell onto his shoulder, and Orie continued when he made no move to shove him off. “While I cannot speak for your brother, both versions of him, as we are different people, I am still a version of him, as he is a version of me. Don’t take my words now as cement, but…I can take a guess and say that I believe your brother—the adult Dream—he would be absolutely elated to be given a second chance with you.”
Confused, Nightmare met his eyes, making Orie smile. “As said. Different worlds, maybe, but we are still versions of the same soul. It’s only a guess. But from my memories and feelings, and taking what you and the little Dream have shared with me, I believe your brother would not mind being with you again. Sure, maybe he doesn’t remember all of the hardships you put each other through, and maybe that would be a bittersweet thing, he is with you again. You are brothers again. I think that is all that would really matter to him.” His smile widened, turning into something with an emotion he couldn’t name right now. “It’s a wish fulfilled, I’m sure.”
It's a wish fulfilled.
Was that really true? Could it be true? His brother as he existed as an adult was no longer able to talk for himself. He had no way of knowing for sure. But Orie said it with such conviction, that he wanted to believe it. That if he could ask him, his brother would want to stay with him as a child, even with no memory of the past to understand how they got here. They were together again, after all—that should be the only thing that mattered.
Something in him settled. He would still take the words with a hint of doubt, but he would take them in nonetheless. He would remember them.
It’s a wish fulfilled—then he will make sure it stays that way.
“Dream said you were the original.” Nightmare tilted his head, thinking back. “In my tournament, I don’t think there was an original. There was ‘Corrupted’ and ‘Passive’, but that’s as close as it came.”
Orie hummed. “I see. Well. I suppose one of those could be my brother, or maybe both are the same person from different times. If I had to guess, I’d say corrupted stands a better chance at being the Nightmare from my world, as I look the way I do now.” He smiled again, sadder. Yearning for something. “I would’ve loved to see Passive, however, even for a second.”
Nightmare gazed at him, frowning. “You are more melancholy than my Dream was.”
Orie didn’t seem surprised. “Am I?”
“Yes. Your world…what is different, exactly?”
“Hm. Besides the obvious,” Orie said, gesturing to his Dream across the field, “not much, I think. But there are some key differences. For one, my brother would never care for me as you have for your brother should the same things happen.”
Nightmare blinked. “I doubt that. I never realized how much I cared until this happened. I’m sure your brother would realize the same thing I did.”
Orie’s smile wavered. “While a lovely thought, I doubt it.”
“I insist. It’s as you said, right? Versions of the same soul. I—”
“Would you have killed him?”
The question was delivered calmly.
Nightmare felt it pierce his soul. “…what?”
“If the suppressor had worked as intended, would you have only hurt your brother? Or would you have killed him?”
“I—Wh—”
“Would you have killed your brother?” Orie asked again, looking him in the eye. “When he was magicless and bound, would you taunt him and kill him? Would you look him in the eyes and say that his sins are far too great to apologize for? That the only way he can ever atone for them is to let you kill him.”
Orie sounded like…like he was repeating something he had heard countless times.
Nightmare stared.
Though his eyes were still on him, still on his rough smile and pained eyes—though he still saw all of it, he was no longer focused on it. He gazed through it all, turning back his memories until he was standing in the cell he held Dream in before he was turned into a child when he was sneering down at him and his pleading and his apologies.
When he was at his angriest, convinced hurting his brother was the only way to make him understand how little anything he could say would change anything, would he have gone the extra mile and actually killed him? Would he have thought that torture was too kind? Would he have dusted Dream and left him there in his cell forever, denying him a peaceful rest? If he could go back, knowing the suppressor would not work as intended, would he have eventually crossed the line?
It felt unthinkable, and yet…if the Dream next to him was the original, and if his brother hated so much as to wish death onto him, then what did that mean for Nightmare? Was the same hate there, buried deep inside him, so far that he did not yet realize it?
What would happen should he realize it? Would he…
But Dream, his Dream…
Short of breath, he looked away. He searched the field around him, each second of emptiness making his soul pound quicker, until he found the yellow cape and golden crown of his brother, chasing an insect with a bunch of flowers in his hands. Relieved, he relaxed, taking in the sight of him laughing like it was the last sign of water in an otherwise dry desert.
Feeling eyes on him, Dream looked up and waved.
He smiled to himself, waving back.
Once his brother turned back to his flowers, his smile wavered, Orie’s questions coming back to him. Feeling sick, he looked down, clenching his hands.
It was a horrifying thought, his brother dying. Even more so to imagine it as his little brother—his Dream, the one just across the field and so happy, the one it felt like he had only just gotten back—as the one lying down, wounds littering his body, slowly dusting as he gazed up at him with betrayal and hurt and forgiving in his eyes. He wanted to lock these images away, and deny they would ever happen, but how could he be sure?
If the original version of him wanted his brother dead, what did that mean for him?
No. No.
He refused to believe he would ever harm his brother. Not his version. He could never, would rather harm himself than ever give into those urges. And he knows his boys would kill him themselves or die trying than let him kill his brother. Nightmare, as himself, would never kill his brother. It was a disgusting thought to even ponder.
Sensing his conviction, Orie smiled, not saddened or envious. He nodded, brushing his fingers over his shoulder. “Then it is as I know.”
Nightmare felt sorrow as he looked at him. Maybe not his brother, maybe different stories of the same soul, but they still knew each other. He still hated the thought of a version of him ever wanting to kill their brother. He opened his mouth to say something, anything—apologize. “I—”
Orie shook his head, shushing him. “Do not apologize for the actions of another. You do not influence my brother.” Hardening, he continued, serious, “And my brother does not influence you.”
It was reassuring.
Nightmare nodded. Orie nodded back, smile returning.
He still felt responsible, wanting to give words of encouragement as Orie did for him, but he could see his counsel was not wanted. It made sense, too. If he continued to insist this Dream’s brother still cared for him, that meant opening wounds that took years to close, giving a hope that was carefully shelved new fuel. Orie has had years to understand is his brother might still care for him or not. He cannot, should not, influence that. In Orie’s words: while a lovely thought to think otherwise, he should not force his feelings onto a version of him he did not know.
But…while he could not encourage, perhaps he could…
Carefully, Nightmare reached out and brought Orie into a hug.
Orie twitched in surprise, stiff. He wondered how long it had been since he had hugged his Nightmare. It was a heartbreaking thing to think about. Orie melted into him quickly, hugging back tightly, desperately. He let him, knowing he needed it far more than Nightmare wanted it. Pulling back, he didn’t say anything as Orie Dream wiped his eyes, sniffing.
“Thank you,” Orie whispered.
Nightmare smiled. “Of course.” He didn’t say, it’s what brothers do, but he had a feeling Orie heard it anyway, the way he laughed.
“I’m back!”
They both jumped as his Dream appeared, dropping his collection between them. He sat down and start picking through them. It was…a lot of flowers. All shades of purple and blue, with some white and black and yellow ones thrown in. Nightmare frowned. Maybe too many for one flower crown.
“That’s a lot of flowers.” Nightmare said, silently asking Dream why he got so many.
“I don’t think you need that many,” Orie added, picking up one of the purple ones—a coneflower, if Nightmare remembered correctly.
“Oh, no. I don’t.” Dream said, grinning. “But I picked some for you, too.”
Orie’s sockets widened in surprise. “I’ve already finished mine.”
“I know. It looks really good. But I figured that since I’m making one for my Nightmare, you can make one for yours, too!”
Nightmare twitched.
Orie twirled the flower in his hand. “I don’t think I should…” He seemed hesitant to say why he shouldn’t.
“But it’s like you said, right? Flower crowns don’t have to be perfect because they aren’t meant to be perfect. They are built with your hands and woven with all the care you have for the person you’re making them for. You push your love into the flowers and the person will always know you are with them when they wear it.” Dream tilted his head, curious. “Why shouldn’t you make one for your brother?”
It was an innocent question.
Nightmare joined his brother in gazing at Orie. The Dream was quiet as he gazed at his flower. Then, he smiled, looking content.
“Yes…” he said, looking up. “Why shouldn’t I?”
When they finally went home, both Dreams had one flower crown from each other. And Nightmare left with two—one from his brother, and one as a gift from Orie, who knew he would appreciate it far more than his own brother would.
#my writing#my fanfiction#fanfiction#oneshot#undertale#utmv#dreamtale#dream tournament#dream sans#nightmare sans#one small dream#mentioned ink sans#mentioned blue sans#mentioned bad sanses#please let me know any warnings i missed#let me know what you think!!
276 notes
·
View notes
Note
do you like dreamberry? they're so, so cute. honestly my favorite ship!!!!
You’ve got good taste ngl
They’re very cute and silly, there’s literally nothing not to like about this ship! It gives me happy feelings :D
Though, I gotta say, I’m not a very big shipper. I’m more of a found family and chaotic friend group enjoyer. But!! I do find shipping very fun
And dreamberry? I think it’s super nice 👍 (might be one of the best ones) I just headcanon them both as aroace lol
Dream belongs to Jokublog
#me answers#they both wouldn’t know what to do on a date#sanscest mention#dreamberry#fyi none of my comics have shipping#unless they specifically have sanscest in the tags#art#utmv#dream sans#swap sans#blue sans
340 notes
·
View notes
Text
🔞Spicy husbone head cannons 🔞
UnderSwap-
Stretch:
Behind his most of the time laid back exterior he gets horny like really horny, sometimes just outta nowhere ( but who am I to complain-) like yes he can be the sweet, lazy, tired and overall laid back. But when he's on he's onn like if you're doing something this man will come up behind you and either smack your ass or grab your hips pressing you back on him kissing your neck and running a hand up your shirt and fondle your boob. Until you get the message he wants to fuck, if he's to impatient sometimes he'll just fuck you over the counter. (This is rare though he doesn't like doing it in anywhere but his bedroom because it's invasive and he only does it when he's certain there isn't gonna be anyone around for a few hours)
Blue:
100% this lil blue fucker ain't as innocent as some think. He'll definitely tease you a lot mostly verbally like "oh sugar~ why don't you sit on my lap~" but he'd whisper it in your ear. He likes passionate sex, like full of praise and moaning. Hell sometimes if he's feeling like bein' a lil ass hole if you curse while moaning his name he'll deadass stop and make you apologize?? Excuse me?? Though he's passionate, softer in bed he wouldn't be against banging the hell out of you if you asked nicely 👀👀
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lollll I got bored and thought about this too much so here enjoy these and let me know if y'all wanna see more with different characters 👀🔞🤭
#undertalefics#ut au#headcanon#husbones#undertale#underswap#stretch#underswap papyrus#strech x reader#blue#blue x reader#underswap sans#underswap papyrus x reader#underswap sans x reader#smut#smutty headcanons#hey i i mention that i love stretch today?? no? good🧡
798 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome back to my YouTube channel
#undertale#undertale fandom#undertale alternate universe#undertale sans#undertale aus#blueberror#error sans mention#blue light Mazzy star#sysblr#cruxwired art
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
With every passing Wednesday I look back on that cameo in the Mandalorian with a slightly greater sense of fear
#because why.filoni.why.#why does zeb exist outside of lira san if it's not going to be explained hm?#WHY#filoni i am going to put you in a dice cup and shake you until you reveal to me your grand designs!!!!#there was literally no reason to do that#especially if he's never going to be mentioned on the ahsoka show#WHY IS HE NOT ON LIRA SAN ANYMORE?!?!?!?!?!#THE END SCENE IN REBELS WAS HIM RETIRING AFTER A HARD-KNOCK LIFE!!!!!!!!!!#WHY IS HE NOT STILL RETIRED?!?!!?!?#WHY IS HE WEARING THAT STUPID BLUE FLIGHT SUIT INSTEAD OF HIS OLD OLIVE AND MUSTARD COLORS?!?!!?!?!?#WHERE THE HECK IS HIS HUSBAND?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!#*SHAKES THE FILONI DICE CUP MENACINGLY* I MUST KNOW DAVE!!!!!!!!!!!#kalluzeb#garazeb orrelios#zeb#alexsandr kallus#star wars#Star Wars rebels#ahsoka show#ahsoka series#the mandalorian#stupid cameo#it's ruining my life#I have consumed tea.this may have been an unwise decision so late at night.#anyway!#martianbugsbunny ships
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Happy Birthday Blue!! Hope you have a great day! @bluepallilworld
Drew your girl Vivid! And her parents! (It's cut off but Nightmare's left sleeve is tied cause of no arm from that time in the story). I couldn't resist drawing your Aftermare family for your birthday OwO
You're a fantastic person who I'm so grateful to have known for these last couple years. And I'm glad we both fell down the Aftermare hole together XD.
#my art#vivid#geno sans#nightmare#passive nightmare sans#aftermare#happy birthday blue!!#i posted this a bit later than the others cause i accidentally forgot that we were posting at midnight your time#and forgot to queue it#but thank zu for gathering all of us to do this for you <3#also#this is the one that i was struggling with the hands i was mentioning in discord#but I'm happy with the way they turned out
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: death, funeral
Beautiful article on Adam Johnson's Celebration of Life, includes those from the hockey world who attended and their shared words:
- - -
HIBBING, Minn. — In a small, hard-working town of 16,000 in Minnesota’s Iron Range, where there are streets named after Bob Dylan and there’s a sense of pride at having also produced MLB legend Roger Maris and Basketball Hall of Famer Kevin McHale, there is — and was — only one “Adam.”
“If you said the name ‘Adam’ in Hibbing, everybody knew that meant Adam Johnson,” said Scott Pionk, the father of Winnipeg Jets defenseman Neal Pionk and Wild draft pick and University of Minnesota-Duluth freshman Aaron Pionk. “Like LeBron, he needed only one name: Adam.”
Jim Perunovich, the father of St. Louis Blues defenseman Scott Perunovich, agreed: “Cher. Bono. Everyone knows who Adam is.”
That’s why on a chilly, wet Monday afternoon, some 3,000 people filled the Hibbing Memorial Arena, which was originally built during the Great Depression and stands three blocks from Adam’s old high school, to pay their respects and offer an outpouring of love and support to the friends and family who are reeling right now. Nine days earlier, Hibbing’s “Adam” died at 29 years old playing the sport he loved, cut by a skate blade across the neck while playing professionally in England.
The Nottingham Panthers on Saturday conducted their own memorial, at Motorpoint Arena, where assistant coach Kevin Moore said Panthers fans had immediately taken to Adam — “our best player” – and will “wear his No. 47 in their hearts forever.”
Then on Sunday, Nottingham Forest football player and Panthers fanatic Orel Johnson Mangala scored in the 47th minute of a Premier League victory over Aston Villa — while fans were paying tribute to Adam with a one-minute ovation. Hours later, Matthew Thiessen, the goalie for Adam’s alma mater, University of Minnesota-Duluth, made a career-best 47 saves in a 3-3 tie with cross-state rival University of Minnesota.
On Monday in Hibbing, scores of people walked into the lobby of the arena and were greeted by a picture of Adam flashing his joyful and infectious smile.
There was a condolence book and there were pictures of him as a baby and young boy running around or skating with his older brother, Ryan. There were pictures of Adam excelling with a hockey stick and tennis racket in his hand. There were pictures of him playing with his young nephew and niece and kissing his fiancée, Ryan Wolfe, a St. Francis native who he fell in love with instantly and planned to buy a farm or coffee shop with.
Seeing so many pictures of a happy Adam and hearing the memories of him was a great reminder that Adam is not just a name, not just a stranger causing so many other strangers to argue on social media about how and why he died. And the term “neck guard” wasn’t uttered once Monday, even though Adam’s death may end up causing a lot of good in the game as college and professional hockey players are starting, one by one, to seek out neck protection.
We were reminded that Adam was a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin and everybody’s best friend.
“Adam truly is and always will be our hometown hero,” said former Hibbing/Chisholm Bluejackets teammate Jake Doherty, one of nearly two dozen speakers to pay homage.
The nearly two-hour service was often funny and more often profoundly sad. And fittingly, it took place on the sheet of ice where Adam used to electrify, in the building he used to fill.
Hockey runs deep in Hibbing, and Adam’s death brought this community together.
Longtime P.A. announcer Dan Marich boisterously welcomed folks into the arena intentionally because that’s the way Adam would have heard it on the ice when he was in the starting lineup. And he ended the ceremony by announcing Adam’s name like he had just scored a goal to draw a thunderous ovation from the crowd as a band did a rendition of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” – a song Adam learned to play on a guitar he saved up to buy when he was a teenager.
This was not long after the same band caused waterworks by playing one of Adam’s favorite campfire songs, the song he used to love to sing with his best friend, Neal Pionk: the Eagles’ “Peaceful Easy Feeling.”
There were so many poignant moments during the ceremony. Like when Adam’s fiancée, Ryan, read a letter she wrote for him, telling him how much she’d miss her favorite napping partner and sous chef. And when Ryan’s sister, Kylie, read a poem then talked about how her sister sneaked out of a cabin to meet Adam that first night, the same night they apparently burned down a sauna. There were Adam’s nephew, Grant, and niece, Britta, constantly running over to Adam’s fiancée and sitting on her lap because, in their eyes, she is their “auntie.”
Maybe the most gripping moment came when Adam’s old high school coach, Mark DeCenzo, choked up and struggled to even start his speech. Adam’s mourning father, former UMD captain Davey Johnson, stood up, walked down the black carpet and joined DeCenzo, putting his arm around him and helping him get through his touching words.
- - -
Friends came from far and wide.
Winnipeg Jets ownership, led by Mark Chipman, arranged for a charter to fly Neal Pionk, Alex Iafallo, Dominic Toninato and Dylan Samberg to Hibbing for Sunday’s funeral mass and Monday’s celebration. St. Louis Blues defenseman Scott Perunovich also attended both and then hitched a ride with the Jets players back to St. Louis for Tuesday’s Jets-Blues game.
Also there Sunday were Wild president and general manager Bill Guerin, who signed Adam to the Penguins in 2017; Adam’s agent, Pete Rutili; former NHLer and current player agent Neil Sheehy; and Minnesota State coach Luke Strand and Detroit Red Wings assistant coach Jay Varady, who both coached Adam for USHL Sioux City.
University of Minnesota-Duluth coach Scott Sandelin spoke at Monday’s event and brought his entire team and staff. St. Cloud State coach Brett Larson was also there, as was Hibbing High’s hockey team.
Other players seen Monday included Henderson Silver Knights captain Jake Bischoff; the Colorado Eagles’ Riley Tufte; the Bridgeport Islanders’ Karson Kuhlman; the San Diego Gulls’ Nick Wolff and his girlfriend, Sydney Brodt, who in September was drafted by the new PWHL team in Minnesota; Bruins scout Parker MacKay; and former Minnesota Mr. Hockey Avery Peterson.
“Definitely had to be here. All of us,” said Tufte, who rushed back to Colorado on Monday night for a game Tuesday. “Can’t miss this. Not for this guy. We all loved him.”
On Friday night against Ontario, one of Adam’s former teams, Tufte recorded his first professional hat trick.
“The first thing I thought about was Johns,” Tufte said. “Even the way the third one went in: off the goalie, off a defenseman’s shin and in. I know Adam pushed it in. It was insane. Something pretty special.”
Neal Pionk first became friends with Adam playing in the Minnesota high school Elite League, then at Sioux City, where they lit it up on the power play. They lived together while at UMD. Pionk said during the celebration that you knew Adam really loved you if he was unrelenting with his insults.
Pionk demonstrated their bond by repeating one of their last text messages after the Jets lost three of their first four games this season: “You’re off to an abysmal start. Pick it up.”
Said Pionk, “I’ll miss those texts every day.”
Neal’s dad, Scott, whose wife helped plan the Celebration of Life with other family friends, said his son is crushed.
“This is the first time as a young guy that he’s lost somebody that he’s really close to,” Scott said. “He’s shocked. He’s devastated.”
Scott, a close friend of Adam’s dad, first got to know Adam in ninth grade. Davey would every now and then ask Pionk to call his son to encourage him when things weren’t going well hockey-wise. Adam worked at Pionk’s hockey camps and helped him one summer at his landscaping company, so they had a bond.
“He was quiet. He liked to be alone a fair amount. And he liked to do things his own way,” Pionk said of Johnson. “He was a free spirit. I’ll put it this way: He was playfully grumpy. Because whatever you decided, he’d be like, ‘I don’t want to go there tonight.’ And then five minutes later, you’d get him in the car and he was laughing and the life of the party. So he played that role. Guys loved it.”
Adam was a terrific hockey player. He was a beautiful skater, taking after his uncle and fellow UMD alum Gary DeGrio, and ultra-skilled, especially in high school. Guerin recruited him for two years, hoping to sign him in Pittsburgh.
During development camp with the Penguins after his sophomore year of college, Adam met with Guerin and Penguins development coach Mark Recchi. They told him they loved him but to go back to school, have a great junior year and they’d be waiting to sign him after that season.
Guerin then returned to the stands. Hall of Famer and Penguins owner Mario Lemieux walked up to Guerin and asked, “Who’s that kid?”
He was pointing at Adam.
Guerin said, “That’s Adam Johnson. Beautiful skater, isn’t he? We’re going to send him back to UMD and sign him after the year.”
Lemieux said, “Well, you probably shouldn’t let him leave the building.”
Guerin responded, “Are you serious?”
Lemieux said, “Yeah, we need to sign guys like that.”
Guerin and Recchi went back downstairs, grabbed Adam when he left the ice and told him, “We understand we just told you we’re sending you back, but things have changed. Mind coming upstairs and meeting with a small group of us?”
Adam showered, changed and walked into a room. That “small group” was Guerin, Recchi, coach Mike Sullivan, CEO David Morehouse, general manager Jim Rutherford and none other than Mario Lemieux.
When Super Mario tells you he wants to sign you, you sign.
“Hey look, this kid was as hot a free agent as you could get,” Guerin said. “We just loved the way he could move, the way he skated, the way he frankly smiled. Like his teammates loved him. He fit everything we wanted. There was no B.S. to him. He was just a well-rounded, well-grounded, really good kid.”
Guerin’s voice began to crack.
“This is just such a sad story,” Guerin said. “Just so sad. Gone way too soon. He had his whole life ahead of him.”
- - -
The testimonials Monday were beautiful.
Johnson’s old Hibbing assistant coach and good friend Grant Clafton called him a “joyful grump” and said he had to be loving seeing Clafton look and feel so uncomfortable and nervous talking in front of a packed arena.
As funny as that was, he made everybody sob when talking about his broken heart that Adam and the love of his life, Ryan, wouldn’t get to create the life together they so deserved.
Sandelin always told Adam he wanted him to have the puck on his stick 90 percent of the time. He remembered his sly grin, his humility, his care for his teammates.
Moore talked about watching all of Adam’s assists this season for Nottingham and being so warmed by the selfless look and joy he had when his teammates scored.
Ebony Johnson, Adam’s sister-in-law — “not by choice,” Adam would joke — talked beautifully but also got everybody laughing when she admitted that their friendship actually began as rivals when they were each up for a third-grade fitness award.
As she remembered it, she could do more pushups than Adam.
Every speaker’s address touched on a similar theme: This was a tremendous person who also happened to be a tremendous hockey player.
As his cousin and former Hibbing teammate Michael Pechnovnik said, “Heaven’s hockey team gained a heckuva player.”
- - -
Four thousand miles away in Nottingham, Adam’s devastated and shaken Panthers teammates watched the live stream Monday.
It was proof of community, one that Nottingham’s Westin Michaud knows well.
He hails from Cloquet, Minn. — 70 miles away from Hibbing — and played with and against Adam in youth, high school, college and pro hockey.
Michaud was an eyewitness to the incident that injured and ultimately killed his friend and was at Adam’s side until the very end.
Michaud said this has been a tremendously challenging time for him and his teammates but the outpouring of love of support has been heartwarming and there’s no doubt watching Monday’s sense of community helped.
“It’s truly amazing how much hockey has impacted not only my life but also the lives of others who play the game, regardless of their skill level,” Michaud said via text. “It’s a community filled with people who genuinely care for and support each other.
“Hockey is more than just a game; it brings people together, ignites passions and provides a profound sense of purpose. Additionally, it unites communities and validates individuals as part of something greater, nurturing both a sense of belonging and purpose in life.”
Still, Monday was hard. “We’re all cried out. We’re hurting. We’re hurting really bad up here right now,” said Jim Perunovich, who was so broken up after Sunday’s mass, Adam’s mom, Sue, had to console him. “Nobody can understand it, but I guess God needed Adam more than we did.”
But what made Monday beautiful was the laughter, the celebration of Adam’s life with humor and memories, as well as music and P.A. announcements.
“That’s the way we roll up here,” Perunovich said.
There’s something special about the Iron Range, where hockey runs deep. Adam cared so much about the people here. He was proud to be from here and took a piece of Hibbing and brought it with him to the UK.
Tufte, for one, was not surprised at Hibbing’s perfectly executed celebration.
“Good ol’ Hibbing hockey community,” said Tufte, who went to high school three hours south at Blaine but attended UMD. “Can’t beat it.”
The celebration of life was live-streamed.
#adam johnson#shamefully there's a lot of spam under his name tag😕#nottingham panthers#pittsburgh penguins#tagging ppl & teams mentioned/some attended:#scott perunovich#st louis blues#neal pionk#winnipeg jets#alex iafallo#dominic toninato#dylan samberg#minnesota wild#detroit red wings#henderson silver knights#colorado eagles#bridgeport islanders#san diego gulls#pwhl minnesota#boston bruins#bill guerin#mario lemieux#mike sullivan#westin michaud#jake bischoff#riley tufte#karson kuhlman#nick wolff#sydney brodt#funeral
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ink’s paints are just- Well, paints- To everyone else, right? Including Splatter, I presume- But! It is the imperative of all children to try and eat or drink whatever their parent is eating or drinking, even if it’s bad for them.
Which lead to the (potentially very weird) idea, in my mind, of Ink having “herbal tea days” with Splatter or something like that. You know, those cool teas with the flowers in it that look all colorful and pretty? It feels like a good meeting point- It’s something safe for her to consume! And, to be honest, it seems like something Ink would be fond of, as well- It’s such a pretty form of tea, and they do love pretty, artistic looking things…
Or maybe I’m just weird, but! I thought it was cute!
Omg that’s adorable.
Fun fact, Splatter actually HAS tried (and succeeded on a few occasions) to eat Ink’s paint when she was very little. It ended up getting into her system, which, alongside just general exposure to Ink’s paint magic, caused the stars to appear in her eyes!
Ink thought that her eating paint was normal for a second (I mean HE does it and he’s her dad so 🤷) until Dream and Blue got concerned and Ink realized “oh shit wait okay she Should Not be ingesting paint” and got her to stop. She kept trying for a while though.
But yeah the idea of Ink using a different, more safe to consume drink to stop Splatter from eating literal paint, and it becoming a bonding thing that they do, is really cute. Maybe Ink also makes the tea change into different colours, so they’re still drinking colourful liquids. Even adding different decorations to the cups, and forming the flowers into intricate designs, so they look extra fantastical. They can’t help but get artistic with it lol!
I imagine Splatter would like the sweeter flavours of tea the best. If those exist I presume, I don’t know a lot about tea 😅. Either way I’m sure Ink could create some sweet-tasting teas for her regardless.
Thanks for the opportunity to ramble about these two, anon! I liked this ask very much :3
#anonymous ask#splattertale#splatterutmv#ink sans#st ink#st dream#st blue#cuz they’re mentioned#splatterverse lore#colourful tea time#lol#bapy sploot#undertale au#utmv
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Making A New Friend
This is a oneshot revealing the merging of Swap and Fresh into Ellie for the story of To Cure A Glitch's Blues. If you do not wish to consume spoilers, do not continue. If you are willing, walk on.
A killer is waiting to greet you.
(Look in tags for trigger warnings. We keep everything light except for Fresh being a parasite but we don't want anyone getting hurt.)
Swap looked around, calling Fresh’s name. He had disappeared earlier that day and hadn’t told him where he was going, which was weird, because Fresh always told his little broseph. Swap knew so. Fresh promised.
Looking around the maze of a castle—Swap had gotten lost half an hour ago, but that wasn’t going to stop him—he tried to find any trace of the older skeleton when he heard… whimpering.
Swap froze. He knew that sound. He knew it far too well. Those were the cries of someone PAPS DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE trying to hide the fact that they were dusting so no one would notice. He had heard it too many times to forget that muffled sobbing sound of a monster holding their hand to their mouth mixed with the coughing up of dust as they prepared to disintegrate.
That wasn’t going to happen today. Not on his watch.
Swap rushed up to the door and grabbed the door handle only for the sounds inside to stop.
“W-who’s there?” came the all too terrifyingly familiar voice of Fresh, wobbling and shaking with pain.
Fresh. It was Fresh who was dying alone in the endless corridors of the Crescents’ Castle. Not today. Not today!
Swap slammed the door open to see… a random Sans tied up on the bed and Fresh with his glasses off? Fresh never took off his glasses. What was going on?
"S-Swap? No... No no no no no Swap you've gotta skedaddle on outta here, squirt! You're gonna get totes unfresh if ya stay here!" Fresh whispered, waving his hands at Swap before noticing his left one disintegrating and hiding that one behind his back.
Swap just stared as Fresh's glove dropped to the floor in a pile of dust. "You're... You're... You're dusting! We have to get Geno!"
Fresh blinked, staring at him. "I... Kid, dis ain't what it looks like. I'm... I'm totes r-rad! I promise!" he said, trying to give the little skeleton a reassuring smile.
"No you're not!" Swap insisted, stomping his foot as tears welled up in his sockets.
"Really, if you close dat door I'll be totes fresh again in a couple o' days―" Fresh began before Swap shocked him into silence.
"STOP LYING TO ME PAPY!" the little kid screamed before covering his mouth, tears streaming down his cheekbones.
Fresh looked down at him, finally realising what was going on, why Swap cared so much... and why Berror had insisted on this one.
"I know what dusting means, okay?!" Swap yelled, staring at the floor as his little gloved hands clenched into fists. "I know what happens when people dust. They promise you that they'll be back, that they'll be okay, but then they dust and you yell and yell and wait and wait but they never do! And you're all alone and you don't know how to take care of yourself because you always had your big brother to take care of you but he's gone now and you're all alone and the human went away and I CAN'T DO IT AGAIN I CAN'T!"
Fresh gave a shaky sigh as his arm finished disintegrating, and he walked up and put a hand on Swap's shoulder, getting down on one knee so he could look Swap in the eye.
"Okay. Okay, broski. I'll tell you," he said softly, giving Swap the best smile he could. "I just... I know you'll probably hate me after dis, so... just let me explain, okay?"
"I know I wasn't brought here to just be your friend," Swap whispered. "It seemed like a weird request, but I was so lonely, and he was giving me a way out... I couldn't say no. I knew something weird was going on, but I just wanted to leave."
Fresh clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Dat... Dat explains quite a bit, actually..." he admitted. "How long have you known?"
"Since you glared at Starberror for offering to take me," he said honestly.
Fresh nodded. "Dat would do it... Dat would do it... You are a smart little broski."
"My dad taught me not to trust people if they said weird things that didn't make sense," Swap replied proudly. "I just... bent that rule this once because... I wanted to come home with you..."
Fresh gulped, trying not to cry himself as he took a shaky breath. "Yeah... I get it. Not having a family is hard, broski. Dat's why I'm so lucky I've got the gang, y'know?"
Swap nodded. "Why didn't you tell them you were hurting?" he asked quietly.
"Oh Swap... dey already know," he replied solemnly.
The little one's eyelights widened in horror. "And they didn't do anything to help you?!" he gasped.
"See, dis is deir help," Fresh said, gesturing to their surroundings. "Dey gave me a rad room, dey got me a totes fresh Sans dere, and dey left me alone."
"They left you alone to die?!" Swap repeated. "Why?!"
"Broski..." Fresh sighed and sat down on the floor as his legs started disintegrating. "I don't got a lot of time to explain dis, okay? So... I'm gonna have to make dis quick unless ya wanna wait until next week."
Swap nodded, sitting down in front of him and looked at him attentively. "Dis... Dis isn't my body, Swap. Dis is Sans's body from Echotale #932," Fresh began, looking down at the floor. "My body is da little tentacle thing wrapped around da soul in my socket."
"That Sans is really nice then," Swap said with a smile. "Why didn't he need it anymore?"
"He... He did need it, Swap," Fresh corrected him gently. "I... I just took it from him because I needed it too."
"You... You took it? Why?" Swap asked, sounding distraught.
Fresh flinched, knowing exactly where this was going to go. "Because... Because I would die without it, Swap. I get really, really hungry, but I can only find food in other people's bodies or by eating souls, and eating souls is harder because I have to fight the body that I have, broski. So instead, I only eat the souls of very bad monsters occasionally, and have to keep stealing bodies to stay alive."
"So... You want to eat the souls of bad people, but the people whose bodies you take don't want to, so you have to keep stealing bodies to stay alive?" Swap summarised, letting that roll over in his mind.
"Yeah, that's exactly right, broski," Fresh agreed, a tiny spark of hope igniting inside him. Maybe Swap wouldn't hate him after all...
"What if your body let you eat souls?" Swap asked curiously, the cogs beginning to click together in his head. "What then? Would you still have to steal bodies?"
"No, I guess not, but no one would willingly give up deir body to me. I'm... I'm a freak," Fresh mumbled.
Both of them ignored the frantic muffled screaming on the bed.
"What would happen if someone gave you their body?" Swap asked, continuing his line of thought. "Willingly, I mean? You never said."
"I don't know. It's never happened before, broski," Fresh admitted, shrugging his shoulders.
"What if... I gave you my body?" Swap offered quietly. Fresh looked up for the first time since he had started explaining, eyelights wide.
"W-what?" he asked, startled and not quite sure he wasn't hallucinating or dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time he had hoped for something like this...
"I trust you. I'd let you have mine. We could share it! And... And you could eat all the bad souls you want, and we'd never be alone, and I'd protect you and you'd protect me, and you'd never have to hide in a dark room dusting by yourself ever again!" Swap rambled, rushing forward to explain his idea.
"Swap... You... You don't know what you're offering... You're offering to give up everything for me. You'd never get to be alone; you'd have to eat other people to live; you'd be labelled a freak by everyone outside our castle; you would be stuck with me for the rest of forever, broski! Think about what that means!" Fresh pleaded, little more than a rib cage and a skull now.
"I did, Fresh. It means you get to live and you don't have to be scared that there won't be a next body. I think I'm okay with that," Swap assured him. "Just... tell me how we do this. Do you... Do you need me to do something or...?"
"I... I shouldn't be agreeing to this... You're just a kid... You can't... You can't consent to this..." Fresh muttered to himself. "You can't actually understand this..."
"Do you really want to go and have to fight the skeleton tied up on the bed?" Swap reasoned, rocking back so he could fold his arms. "Do you actually want to have to fight just to live to tomorrow?"
Fresh stared up at the Candyfell on the bed and could feel the aching exhaustion settle in long before he even attempted to take the Sans for himself. He could already imagine the week-long struggle it would take to just get him ready enough for Fresh to go about his daily business, and the month after where he'd have to relearn to fight again away from prying eyes so no one could know of his weakness. Memories of nights going hungry flashed before him, a hunger he tormented himself with because he had promised himself that this host would last longer than the last one, because it wasn't fair to Geno and Error to make them hunt down a new one just because he couldn't make his food stretch. Swap was right; he really didn't want to do that. He hadn't wanted to for a long time now. He was just so tired.
Then his gaze shifted to Swap, kind loving wonderful Swap, who knew exactly what would happen to him if this went wrong and still offered everything to him. He shuddered, his little violet body curling in on itself around the last dregs of his current host's soul as he tried not to think of how nice it would be to just say yes, to give in, to let someone who loved him take him in and protect him for the rest of eternity. How... How could he say no to such a tempting proposition? All the food he could ever want; someone to talk to who wouldn't just scream at him about how horrible he was; the sweet warmth of being able to feel love and compassion from the soul he was guarding instead of hatred and fear; and he'd be able to, wouldn't he? He'd be able to protect Swap's soul instead of devour it, cradle it in his tentacles where no one could ever hurt him again and he'd be his wouldn't he? Swap would be solely his and no one would ever be able to take him away. He'd have a forever companion, one he could tell all of the stories he'd witnessed over his long, long lifespan.
It was then that Fresh realised he was out of time, and he shook the dust from his torso, looking up at Swap warily with one beautiful multi-coloured eye as he tucked his tentacles closer to himself. This was the final test, he supposed: Swap's reaction to his true form.
Swap looked down at him in awe, brushing off a little bit of dust before picking Fresh up―and didn't that make the parasite want to bolt; nothing good had ever come of being held before―and holding him up just below his chin so he could see him better.
"Is this... Is this you?" Swap whispered reverently, eyes beginning to sparkle with stars. Fresh, no longer able to speak, shuffled in Swap's hands for a minute before nodding his torso at him. "You look so cool, Fresh," Swap told him, gently removing one of his gloves with his teeth before running a gentle phalange down one of Fresh's appendages.
The parasite shuddered, leaning into the touch that he so craved. No one had ever touched his true self so kindly before... not that many ever had the chance, but Fresh could feel the beating intent inside of Swap's soul with every stroke of his finger, and there was not an ounce of fear or hatred to be found; only pure, unadulterated compassion and familial love for him and him alone.
"So... How do I...? What do you need me to do, Fresh?" Swap asked, studying him for any kind of reaction.
Fresh, resigning himself to his fate and trying to deny his excitement, pointed at Swap's scarf.
"You... want my bandanna?" Swap asked, confused. Fresh shook a tentacle at him to mimic a finger waggle before tapping Swap's hand and pointing at the bandanna again.
"Oh! You want to sit on my bandanna!" Swap realised. "Okay!" He carefully moved his hand over so Fresh could climb into the fabric. "Now what?"
Fresh chuckled silently to himself as he climbed over the fabric to the opening between the two collarbones and slipped through.
Swap burst out laughing, reaching for his neck instinctively. "C-careful! I'm t-ticklish!" he warned Fresh.
The parasite ignored the warning, practically not even hearing it, as he was too busy staring at the beautiful soul that had been given to him. It was pure and white and whole, the most beautiful soul he'd ever seen, and he got to hold it in his tentacles. Man, in a few years when all the other Sanses would look at his host buddy with envy, he'd know that he was the luckiest guy alive. Swap was that good.
Fresh gently wrapped his tentacles around Swap's soul and turned, getting ready to take it to its new home in the safest part of any skeleton as he climbed back up Swap's ribs and came out the other side, clutching his prize.
Swap's metaphorical breath hitched when he felt Fresh wrap around his soul, wondering for the first time if this was actually a good idea, when he felt Fresh climbing up his neck. "What... What are you d-doing, b-broski?" he practically whispered, beginning to grow nervous now.
Fresh just patted the side of Swap's skull, trying to reassure the little skeleton. With that out of the way, he gently vine-roped his way across Swap's head with his tentacles to be stationed right over his eye, both of them staring into each other's beings.
"Everything... okay...?" Swap asked, his voice slurred as he was entranced by Fresh's gaze and grip on his soul. Fresh nodded, content that he had prepared Swap thoroughly, before climbing inside his new host's eye socket.
Swap immediately doubled over, scratching at his socket without ever gaining purchase with hyperventilating breaths. It only seemed to get worse―then he froze and simply sat there for a moment, still as a mouse as he stared at the floor.
The Candyfell Sans didn't dare move a muscle on the bed, not wanting to attract either entity's attention in order to save his own metaphorical skin. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.
"I'm... so... hungry..." Swap whispered, eyelights still dark as he stared. "So... hungry... We're so... hungry..."
Swap looked up at him, and in one socket there was his original eyelight dilated beyond measure while in the other a mesmerising red and yellow eye held him frozen.
Little did the poor Sans know that gaze had already marked him for death.
#curing a glitch's blues#curing a glitch's blues fic#blueberry sans#fresh sans#eldritch swap#ellie#eldritch sans#eldritch#undertale au#swap sans#underswap#fresh parasite#tw murder#tw parasite#tw loss#tw death#tw death mention#tw trauma#tw depersonalisation mention
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s Stupid, Really
Well, well, well. What do we have here? Why, it’s another oneshot based off of some tweets from @dreemurr-skelememer, this time about Dream having a panic attack/ptsd episode in front of Nightmare, how interesting!
I did change a few small details, but the overall idea is the same. I just got into a flow while writing it and rid the flow until the end.
Also, fun fact: I had planned to write this in January. I got all the dialogue written in my document and everything and then never touched it until now. I had originally planned to do it from Nightmare’s POV, but apparently that was the wrong move, because I looked at it again and decided to write from Dream’s POV instead, and I kid you not that the exact second I made that decision, I knew how to do it.
All the motivation I was missing came flooding in.
So, maybe all that advice about scenes maybe needing to be written from a different POV than what you planned is true.
And the pacing of this might be fast, maybe too fast, but I think it reads well. Reads like you’re short of breath, I think.
Now, I...I don’t have much else to add. Happy reading, I guess!!!
Fandom: Undertale/UTMV
Characters: Dream, Nightmare (Who belong to Joku), and mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet), mentioned Bad Sanses, and mentioned Blue (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce)
Warnings: A panic attack and/or a PTSD episode, calling a panic attack and/or PTSD episode ‘stupid’, and self-hate, and I think that’s it. Let me know!
Summary: “ A party with a big crowd of people triggers a panic attack for Dream, who gets lost in memories of the Apple Incident. Luckily, or unluckily, depending, Nightmare is also at this party and is also the closest person available for Dream to cling to. (UTMV, Dream Sans Centric)”
Word Count: 3240
~oOo~
Dream tries to hunch himself over to appear smaller. Maybe he can blend into the crowd and can slip out of here soon.
Ink had heard of a party in some AU and really wanted to go. He tried to get both Dream and Blue to go with him, but Blue already had things to do. Dream, on the other hand, had a rather boring day planned of lying in bed and thinking for hours, and he felt bad because he wanted to say no but didn’t have a real excuse, so he ended up saying yes. Ink was excited, however, and they arrived rather early.
One would think that arriving early would help him get used to the size of the crowd, but the more skeletons he watched enter, the worse he felt. He was offered a drink multiple times and could politely deny only a few times before people got suspicious, wondering if he was alright. He grabbed some water to make people stop asking. It seemed to work, so his next problem was getting lost in the crowd until he could escape to a quieter part of the building. It made him uncomfortable, being surrounded by people, but he forced himself to work through it, sipping at his drink.
Oh, look. An exit was right in front of him, and only a few skeletons were in the way.
He sighs in relief, clutching his drink like a lifeline.
“Hey, Dream!” A Sans he’s only seen a couple of times from an AU he can’t remember the name of shouts, leaning on him. He grabs Dream’s drink out of his hands. “Why’re you just drinking water? Let me get you a real drink.”
“Oh, no thank you, I…” Dream starts, but the Sans stumbles off anyway. He cringes, sighs, and backs away, aiming to huddle into a corner and be invisible until the end of the party.
On his way, more people shout, gleeful about something happening further into the crowd, and he flinches. People shift, aiming to get a closer look at all the commotion, and he tries to elbow his way through as gently as he can. He stumbles and gets dragged into the crowd, people pushing him multiple ways.
He cringes again, trying to escape, but can’t find a gap to squeeze through. Is it just him, or is it really hot in here all of a sudden?
“You absolute beast!” Someone shouts, sparking laughter—
No, no, not laughter, jeers. People whisper to each other, nasty things about his brother—
No, no, no, not about his brother, just comments on whatever is going on—
No, wait. More people are shouting, some proclaiming that they knew it, some hurling insults, some just scoffing in disbelief—
In disgust.
Someone in front of him shifts to the right. He catches a glimpse of a skeleton huddled on the ground, curled up by the base of something—
A tree, Mother—
No, stop, stop being stupid—
And something rolling on the ground in front of them—
An apple—
Stop.
Dream’s breath hitches.
He steps back, turning, trying to get away from it, telling himself it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. It was the past. He wasn’t there anymore, he left long ago. This wasn’t happening. Someone shoves at him—
And if this wasn’t real, would he still feel that? He can’t tell.
There are more leers and someone whoops, throwing something in the air—
Rocks rain down on Mother.
Nightmare tries to talk over all the noise, frantically explaining himself, but no one is listening.
Dream tries to fight his way through, get in front of the crowd, in front of his friends. He’s confused because they never acted this mean before. They keep throwing rocks, and he knows being hit with a rock hurts, so why are they throwing them at Nighty?
Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong.
The wrongness fills him in rhythm with his footsteps. He’s breathing heavily, using all of his efforts to get out of this blasted crowd and find Nighty and get him away from all of this noise. His brother doesn’t like loud noises anymore. He doesn’t know why, but that doesn’t matter, because this is a loud noise and Nighty hates it here, he’s sure of it.
They need to get out.
Dream runs—
Stop, stop, stop, get out of here, this isn’t right, move on, move away—
Find Nighty and protect him, find him and protect him, find him and protect him—
Hurry, hurry, hurry—
With a final shove, he steps out in front of the crowd and looks up frantically, searching.
Only, Mother isn’t here. Neither is Nighty.
Blinking, he turns, facing the crowd of villagers, but this crowd is warped, wrong. They are all wrong. He doesn’t recognize any of them. He backs away from them, confused and worried and alarmed. His back presses against a wall and he stops breathing.
He can’t move.
He can’t move.
He can’t move anymore, something hardening his body and making him numb—
No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re not there.
Stop being stupid.
He needs to find his brother. He needs to find him. They’re in danger. Nighty’s in danger. They need to find each other and run before it all goes wrong. They need to escape.
Where is his brother? Where is he? Where—
The word looks dizzy, he feels dizzy—
There’s someone beside him and—
“Dream?”
—They know his name.
Dream blinks.
The breath he was holding escapes him in a gasp.
The person beside them is dark and blurry. He can’t make out many details. Something moves behind them. Another villager? Then that means this is a villager. Not one that he recognizes, though. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe they can help.
They might know where Nightmare is.
“Dream, what…” the villager starts, confused, and concerned. Dream jolts into action, frantically grabbing onto their shoulders. His hands slid, almost like he was grabbing at oil. That’s odd. It’s familiar, too. Odd. He tightens his grip. “Hey! Get off—”
They don’t like that very much. Dream doesn’t care what they do or don’t like as long as they help him. “Have you seen my brother?”
The villager stills. “Huh?”
Frustrated, his fingers twitch. He glances around as the villager takes a moment to reorient themselves.
No Mother, no brother. Still the same.
His chest is beginning to tighten again.
“What?”
“My brother.” Dream exhales sharply at the villager’s confusion. “Looks like me, exactly like me. Just wears purple instead. It’s his favorite colour.” He doesn’t know why he mentioned that. The villager didn’t need to know that. Can’t he do anything right? “Have you seen him? I need to find him. I need to find him. Fast.”
The villager laughs harshly in disbelief. “Is—Is this a joke or something? Dream—”
“It’s not safe here. Not safe. I need to find Nighty. I need to get to him. It’s not safe here.” Dream explains, glancing around again. No change. Has it gotten hotter? He feels like he’s sweating a lot. “We’re in danger. Very bad, bad danger. He’s in danger. I need to find him. Have you seen him? Please tell me where he is.”
“Dream…”
Though he hears the villager try to speak, Dream rushes over him, impatient. “Tell me, please. Tell me, tell me, tell me. Please. I need to get there in time. I can’t be late again. Things—” He chokes on a breath and something pricks at his sockets, the edges of his vision darkening. “I can’t lose him. I can’t. He’s all I have. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please…” His voice cracks and he repeats the word over and over.
Please help him, please, please, please—
Please save Nighty, please, please, please, please—
Please, please, please, please—
He’s being led somewhere. Is the villager helping him?
Please, please, please, please—
The music—when did that start? Where even was he?—fades the further they get.
Please, please, please, please—
Doors shut behind them.
Dream can’t see anything anymore; he’s panicking too much.
Where was he? Where is Nightmare? He needs to find Nightmare.
The villager makes him sit down. He frowns, trying to get up. He can’t rest now, not when Nighty needs him. The villager doesn’t let him up.
“Breathe, Dream.”
He is breathing. Isn’t he? Maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s dead and that’s why this place is so unfamiliar and Nighty wasn’t here and, and, and—
“Breathe.”
He’s breathing. He’s trying.
He wants his brother.
“I’m right here. Keep breathing, slowly. Match me. In…out. Good. You’re not in the village, Dream. Okay? You’re not there.”
But wasn’t he just…?
“You haven’t been there in years. We’re both safe. It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay.
He needs to—
“Keep breathing, focus on breathing.”
Dream wants to scowl. He wants to frown and complain that he is doing all of that and it’s not helping. But he doesn’t, he instead inhales—
And his chest lightens a bit.
He squeezes his eyes shut, and exhales, trying to do as ordered.
His chest continues to lighten, cracks appearing in the stone as patches fall off of him—
You’re not there. You haven’t been there in years. Focus, Dream.
But it all feels so real.
And he can practically taste the apple on his tongue, the smell of negativity in the air—
And he inhales—
And the feel of a smooth staff in his hand, fabric clenched in his fist, tinging in his legs as he’s turned to stone—
And he exhales—
And the sound of wind and silence and manic laughter—
And he breathes—
And he sees—
And he—
And…
And he blinks, sockets aching.
And he sees the darkness in his vision fading. It bubbles away, letting his surroundings take its place. He’s sitting against the railing of the balcony of the building. One of them, at least. The bars bite into his back. There’s a faint breeze, carrying the smell of flowers from the garden below. It’s nice.
And Nightmare is in front of him, kneeling, hand outstretched and hovering.
Dream blinks in surprise.
Nightmare looks concerned, eye wide.
They stare at each other for a moment.
Brow furrowing, Dream clears his throat, craving a glass of water. His voice is hoarse. “…Nightmare?”
Nightmare shifts, hand lowering. “Yeah.” His brother relaxes a bit, still watching him.
Something drips off his fingers.
Goop the same colour as the goop that covers his brother covers his hands. It’s slimy and gross and the minute he notices, he wants to wipe it off, but it feels awkward and inconsiderate of him to do that in front of his brother.
Dream glances around, avoiding looking at him. Shame begins to heat his face and he internally sighs. Of course. He just had to get this way in front of Nightmare. This is like, the worst possible thing. But it’s just his luck. And now he’s left here afterward, wanting nothing more than to teleport straight home and sleep the next week away.
But doesn’t he owe it to Nighty for an explanation?
“Sorry…” His voice cracks again, and he coughs. “I—”
His mouth continues moving, but nothing comes out.
He frowns, trying again. “I—”
“Hold that thought.”
Dream looks up as Nightmare stands, walking back inside.
Well, if he really wants to, he could teleport away now and not face the humiliation surely coming his way. Nightmare will probably return with one of his guys and then a fight will break out, taking advantage of his weakened state. He doesn’t want to fight right now, doesn’t even want to move. If he could, he would just flop over and sleep right here. Then all of the aftermath of this can be dealt with once he wakes up.
But, no, he’s a big boy, and he will face it now as he should.
He wraps his arms around his legs and buries his head in his knees. God, he’s such an idiot. No, he’s weak. He knew coming to this party with Ink would be a risk. He felt the panic at the start, the minute they arrived and people were still pouring into the big, big room, but he swallowed it back and tried to forget about it. It was only when the crowd pulled him along that he got lost in his head. Everyone he pushed in his fight to get away must be so confused, and they must’ve talked about it with their friends and now everyone was probably wondering why he was acting so weird.
Hopefully, no one noticed the terror he felt, but he has a feeling it might’ve been obvious…
This will be such a big mess to clean up. Why did his brain have to betray him like this? Why did he give in so easily? It was like he wanted to get lost, and he never wants to get lost. He always says that it’s the last time he’d ever feel like this, but there always ends up being another thing that triggers it again. He doesn’t know how to stop it besides avoiding anything he manages to clue in on, like crowds.
And yet, here he was. Here he fucking was.
A hand grabs his wrist. Dream’s head snaps up. He watches, eyes wide, as Nightmare holds his hand and runs a damp washcloth over it, cleaning it. For some reason. Why? Why would his brother come back just to clean him up?
This wasn’t his mess to deal with.
This…this, the cleaning, reminds him of patching Nightmare up under Mother. It brings the aching longing he got sleeping in branches and walking through the woods to the front of his mind. It hurts and hurts and he’s unable to shake it off.
“Are you alright?” Nightmare asks, focusing on his task.
Dream swallows. “I’m fine.”
His brother looks up, unconvinced, raising a brow.
“Really, I am,” he insists.
Nightmare’s eye flicks over his face, searching for a lie.
Dream prepares himself, resigned at explaining. The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready, when—
“Okay.”
“Huh?”
“Okay.” Nightmare goes back to cleaning. He’s ruing a perfectly good washcloth just for Dream. He doesn’t know how to feel. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
The words feel foreign to him. “Oh…Thanks.”
Nightmare hums.
Odd.
Dream’s not used to being told he doesn’t have to talk about things if he doesn’t want to. The villagers always wanted to make sure he was happy, asking him again and again if he was and flocking to make him feel better if he said he wasn’t. Even now, people prefer to know everything about his job. Most of the conversations he has with people besides Blue or Ink or a few others are one-sided questions about himself.
He's relieved that Nightmare is giving him a choice. He wants to stay silent and let them both forget this ever existed. If they can, that is. Still. He wants to keep any of what he was thinking about to himself, as much as he can. His brother is still his enemy, after all, and giving away all his vulnerabilities will only result in more difficult battles.
He doesn’t want to say anything, and yet he does.
For some reason, having a choice makes him want to tell Nightmare something even more. “I don’t like crowds. Specifically, not, um…big ones. Or loud ones. Or big loud crowds crammed in a small room. Whenever I’m in one for a long time, it…” He swallows again, glancing up and catching Nightmare’s eye. “It brings back bad memories,” he whispers, feeling childish that he’s avoiding saying anything specific.
Nightmare watches him for a moment. “Okay.”
His face is expertly blank. He can’t tell what his brother is feeling.
“I apologize that you had to deal with this.” Dream sighs. “I usually handle it.” He chuckles, tired. “It’s stupid, really.”
Nightmare still doesn’t say anything. Still blank. He’s finished with his task, setting the washcloth aside so he can fiddle with his fingers.
Dream starts, “I—”
“I don’t like apples.”
He blinks, forgetting what he was going to say. “…What?”
“I don’t. Brings back some bad memories. So, I don’t buy any or eat any. And that’s fine. I’m sure my boys know my dislike of them, too, ‘cause they never bring any home when they go shopping.” Nightmare pauses. “They may not…understand, exactly, but they don’t need to. They’re my friends. They accept it and live with it.” He looks right at Dream. “We all do.”
Dream blinks, looking at his hands. There wasn’t a speck left on them. Even all the dirt from the week, the build-up of grime he hadn’t had the energy to wash off, it was all gone. It felt strange to see the white bones underneath, marred by scratches as they were. He clenches them and opens them, admiring them.
Nightmare wasn’t talking about himself anymore. In his own, roundabout way, he was offering some advice that Dream really needs to hear. Stuff he has told others to do—trust those around you because the fact they were still there meant they cared far more than you realized. Friends lean on each other; no friendship is one-sided. Communicate, and you’ll have a better relationship. Whenever he had given the advice, he always felt he was lying, spouting facts he didn’t know were true. His brother seems to say it with such belief, and he probably does because he's learned all of it himself.
While Dream was stuck in stone, Nightmare was growing and moving on. He already knew this but it still surprises and pains him when he sees what that really means firsthand.
And yet…for all of his moving on, his brother still helped him today.
His brother could’ve just left him to his panic attack, let him make a fool of himself in front of everyone. Let rumors spread across the multiverse about him, watch his reputation and others’ trust in him crumble. Let him be weak. That was his goal, right? Beat him and give him a taste of what was owed to him, a sliver of what happened to his brother all those years ago? Why help his enemy out of a vulnerable spot, why not take advantage?
Dream wants to say it’s because, despite everything, they were still brothers, and that took priority over anything else.
With a new surge of confidence, Dream clenches his fists. “Right…Night, I—” But when he looks up, Nightmare is gone. He falters, looking around the empty garden as if his brother was simply hiding from him, but he knows he is gone.
He doesn’t sense him in the AU anymore.
Sighing, he stands on shaky legs. He’s disappointed, yes, but not surprised. He’ll just have to tell him another day how sorry he was about what happened, how much he misses him. Ask if he feels the same way. Ask if he wants to be brothers again in more than just title. Maybe, just maybe, Night’ll listen to him and maybe he’ll even say he wants to as well.
For now, though, Dream steels his resolve and leaves.
He’ll explain to Ink in the morning that he doesn’t really like big crowds, parties included.
#my writing#my fanfiction#fanfiction#oneshot#undertale#utmv#dreamtale#dream sans#nightmare sans#mentioned ink sans#mentioned blue sans#mentioned nightmare's gang#tw panic attack#tw ptsd#tw ptsd episode#tw self-hate#hope you enjoy!!
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fallen Angel (II)
Most probably the last post for a while, hope you enjoy-
OG Dream will also arrive but do not worry, it’s all for plot purposes and not just because I love that man.
This part is the calm before the storm…
***
Previous part — Next part
***
Warnings: Self-blaming/guilt, swearing
Synopsis: ““I do know where he is, yes.” Blue said after a while, wishing to break the silence. “But heading there like that wouldn’t be… intelligent. Especially considering what you are, Nightmare.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then what? We wait around until whoever has got him decides they’ve played with him enough?” Venom filled his voice as he spoke. “Radiants don’t walk around in cities like that, I hope you are aware.”
“Well…” Then, he had an illumination. Goodness, how did he not think of that before? “Actually I might know someone like that.””
***
A few minutes later, when Blue’s breathing had gotten better, Nightmare’s hands went back to clawing at his hoodie. He didn’t comment on it even though it kinda hurt, he probably deserved it anyway.
“Now that you’re not about to die in the lamest way known to man, tell me, in full sentences, just what the fuck is going on and what it has to do with Dream.” He was staring straight into his soul, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. Blue didn’t even need to think to know that he was trying to read his emotions.
He couldn’t even tell if his barrier was still up, he was way too exhausted to think about it. “Has none of you kept up with the news lately?”
Cross shook his head, Error made sure he wouldn’t have any eye contact with the other so he started to study carefully the craftsmanship of the wooden floor below him. Nightmare’s impatience grew and his grip on Blue’s shoulders tightened.
“No, we have not. Now stop delaying the moment and tell me before I shove my staff up your a—”
Again, it was Cross that interrupted Nightmare. “Hitting him where the sun doesn’t shine isn’t gonna make him want to talk to you Night.” He looked intrigued by the information that Blue was going to drop despite hating Dream with every cell in his body. For once, Nightmare was so explosive that it made Cross look calm, which was quite the achievement itself.
“It would be funny to watch though.” Error said from across the room, still staring at the floor.
That natural response seemed to calm Blue down a bit. He still felt awful and the anxiety of Koroit following him was still here but at least he felt like some things still remained the same. Nightmare was about to say something before he was cut off by Blue: “Dream…”
All eyes turned to him. “... He’s missing.” Blue chose not to tell them about his involvement in Dream’s kidnapping, otherwise, Nightmare might just murder him on the spot before he would be able to give them his location. He honestly felt like he deserved to die but he would only accept it if Dream was the one who did that. After all, it was him that got hurt because of his actions, whether he was forced or not.
“He’s missing?” Cross repeated, his eyes widened. “How the fu–”
“Shut up Cross.” Nightmare cut him off, the worry in his eyes practically making him glow. “Continue.”
“Dream had imprisoned a corrupt named Obsidian in a cell. Two of his… acquaintances made up a plan to get him out of there and…” He took a second to phrase the next part. “Change him, for short. They’ve succeeded and Dream is now most likely getting tortured—“
“Do you know where he is?” Nightmare suddenly interrupted, an indescribable feeling passing on his face.
“Nightmare, you’re not thinking of trying to rescue him, are you?” Error asked a bit worryingly, finally leaving the floor alone. “We don’t even know what they’re capable of doing and-“
Nightmare shook his head. “I don’t care, I can’t just leave him there!” He snapped, raising his arm to his mouth’s level before starting to nip at his nails nervously. “For all I know he’s going to…” Nightmare shook his head and let the sentence die in the atmosphere. They all knew what he wanted to say.
“I do know where he is, yes.” Blue said after a while, wishing to break the silence. “But heading there like that wouldn’t be… intelligent. Especially considering what you are, Nightmare.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then what? We wait around until whoever has got him decides they’ve played with him enough?” Venom filled his voice as he spoke. “Radiants don’t walk around in cities like that, I hope you are aware.”
“Well…” Then, he had an illumination. Goodness, how did he not think of that before? “Actually I might know someone like that.”
A look of shock flashed on Nightmare’s face. “You do? How? I haven’t seen a single one apart from Dream in my entire existence. Which says a lot.”
“I’ll explain later, I have to go make a call.” Blue stated, standing up with slight difficulty. He still felt so weak, he hated it. Then he walked to the opposite corner of where the others were standing and took his phone out of his pocket.
Meanwhile, the remaining members of the meme squad were staring at each other with equal confusion.
“Am I the only one who feels like they are talking a foreign language?” Error shook his head, shrugging.
“No, I have no clue about what they’re talking about either.” Cross let out a sigh of relief.
***
Blue held up the phone in his ear as he listened to the ringing sound of his phone. He would normally give little care about it but considering the situation, he hoped that the other would pick up as fast as possible. Another one rang out. Waiting has never felt so long before, it felt like an eternity has passed already.
Please pick up.
“Hello? Blue?” Most of the tension in his shoulders evaporated as soon as he heard the crystalline voice ranging in his ears. Thank god, he wasn’t fighting his own Nightmare for once. “What’s wrong?”
“Hey, it’s very complicated to explain but I really need your help right now. Can you go to the address I just sent you?” A little silence fell on the other side of the phone, only broken by the occasional sounds of clothes ruffling.
“Of course!” The other cheerfully said after a while. “Although, I might have to get Error to lend me a hand for this one, I’ve never been there before.” Blue swiped the air as if the other could see him.
“That’s totally fine.” He wanted to add something else but couldn’t as the other best him to it.
“And Blue?” He waited for said man to make a noise of confirmation, to show that he was listening. “Take deep breaths, I can sense your worry from over there.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Will do, I’ll see you in a minute then.”
The original Dream hung up.
***
“Okay, can you tell us what is going on now?” Nightmare looked beyond pissed but Blue could see that it was all a facade, more than frustrated he was worried, very worried, maybe as much or more than Blue. That really said something.
“As I said before, we need a radiant to counter their negative energy.” He pointed to his phone. “I called one over, I hope it doesn’t bother you guys?”
Error sighed. “As if our opinion really mattered here…” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Cross shrugged, not quite knowing how he should react to this. Nightmare on the other hand had gone back to biting his nails, anxiously waiting.
After a few seconds, a sizzle echoed throughout the room. The noise grew louder before a thin line was drawn in one corner. The rift was forced open in a mess of glitches and an endless void of white appeared before them. Even Blue was startled by that but that may just be because of the lack of sleep.
In the corner, blond hair came into view quickly before disappearing as fast it came. “Thanks Error, I owe you one!” The voice from the call shouted, another muffled and glitchy one responding something inaudible. The meme squad raised an eyebrow, Nightmare and Cross staring at their friend that went by the same name.
The latter shrugged, shaking his head to signal he had no clue what this was about.
A few seconds later, the original Dream stepped in, his aura seeping into the room and immediately making Blue feel better. He knew it was artificial happiness but it still felt great to have a break after that day filled with endless guilt.
The portal closed behind him and Dream opened his mouth to say something before he locked eyes with Nightmare. Both of them had their eyes widened and for a second, sadness swept through their irises before they shook their heads and looked away.
While Nightmare was stealing glances from Dream occasionally, Cross’s eyes had been stuck studying the circlet that the original version of the CEO of JR had on his head.
“Hold on, isn’t that the same circlet that Dream wears?” He remarked after a while, looking the boy up and down. Said one laughed sheepishly, being used to hearing this.
“I don’t doubt it is.” He responded, approaching the meme squad and smiling, his eyes lingering a second more onto Nightmare. “My name is also Dream but since that would be confusing for you all, you can call me Ori.”
The three of them nodded, also giving their names. After the introduction was made, Blue pressed his finger against Ori’s shoulder, which made the latter stare at him.
“Oh yes.” His cheerful smile faded to be replaced with a solemn expression. “What was the issue you needed my help with? Seeing your emotional state, I’m guessing it’s something serious.”
“Dream was abducted.” Ori’s unblinking stare urged him to continue. “By corrupts.” Once the word left his mouth, Ori grumbled under his breath a curse, his eyebrows furrowing.
“How many of them are there?” Blue held up two fingers as an answer, he didn’t trust himself with speaking at the moment. “I see, I should be able to get rid of them, yes.” That relieved him slightly.
“Do you need any help with that? I would be happy to oblige.” Nightmare suddenly spoke up, a mix of concern and anger painted on his expression. Error protested against that but the shorter one paid it no mind.
Ori shook his head. “I can understand your desire to participate in the battle however, your negativity will only weaken me there and fighting fire with fire has rarely ever worked.” Nightmare frowned, clearly displeased. “Besides, I think it would be better if you were there when he comes back. Seeing a familiar face might help him calm down a bit and who knows if they’ll manage to track him down there.”
“…” Nightmare sighed before admitting he would like to see how he’s doing first and foremost. “Although, if they do come here I can’t promise not to beat their asses.”
Cross playfully slapped Nightmare’s back. “I would be happy to help with that too! I couldn’t care less about Dream but if you’re going then so am I!” Nightmare facepalmed but couldn’t help the little smile to twitch at his lips even with all this tension in his body.
Error raised his thumb as an approbation.
Ori then turned to Blue. “I know you don’t like fights very much but I think I’m gonna need you to free your Dream, is that okay?”
“I…”
You got him into that mess, it’s only right if you get him out of there.
Who cares if you end up triggered?
You’re not even the one who’s going to fight…
Blue chased away these thoughts and took a deep breath. “Yeah. I will be fine.”
Ori gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder as well as a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you or let them intervene in your escape with him. Besides…” He took a step closer to him, whispering so only he could hear what he was about to say. “Whatever you did, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”
Blue startled at that, glancing at him with his jaw open.
He pointed to his chest, the space where his soul would be. “Empathy.”
“… I hope my barrier comes back on soon. I don’t like having someone read my emotions.” He confessed as Dream chuckled.
“You guys should go.” Nightmare suddenly materialized between them, making Dream let out a squeak of surprise. “I don’t like the thought of Dream spending any more time with these bastards.”
“Me neither.”
Blue’s hand was trembling when he showed Dream where they were going.
#dreamswap#ds dream#he’s mentioned at least#angst#ship#ds blue#drueswap#dream#ds nightmare#ds cross#ds error#error sans#fallen angel
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
The one and (hopefully) only Nijisanji-related post I'll write. Inspired by getting Yugo's Queen of Hearts cover AND Zaion/Maririn's Identity covers back to back in my playlist.
Right now, Nijisanji's digging a grave for themselves.
Yugo's graduation was COMPLETELY unexpected. It seems like only the man himself knew, as the rest of Noctyx's tweets on it showed either well-feigned confusion and shock or... you know. They genuinely had no idea this would happen.
Yugo got terminated. He did not 'peacefully graduate'. He got practically fired. And Anycolor sure as hell knew what they were doing by disclosing Zaion's terms of graduation now.
Anycolor INC did not disclose the reason of Yugo's termination. A lot of people right now are saying that clearly U-san (Yugo's liver) left on better terms with NIJI corpo as a whole than Sayu (Zaion's liver), but you have to realize.
Yugo may not have done anything too bad. It may just be a conflict of interest, or woeful misalignment, or whatever. It's not for us to know or care, apparently. They may not have done anything too bad, but what they did clearly stacked up against themself. They still, clearly, did something bad to get fired.
Zaion, however, is a different case. She got fired and practically leaked on nyfco for the termination (and probably for reasonable cause, as I was shocked by seeing her entire list of offences). She had over 10 reasons on that list, with an 'and more!' solidifying it. Now, I agree that all of it was Sayu's fault. She should've known better. She's with an audience of fucking weirdos, but she has NO RIGHT to speak about sensitive topics in such a lighthearted manner. People played it off as dark humour, but there is a difference between toeing the line and leaping over it entirely.
Additionally, her genmates had multiple talks with her. My main problem with Anycolor here is:
Why did they hire her, even with the background checks and all?
Why did they give her multiple chances, even when others protested and told them not to? (Others meaning the fans, btw)
What has their quality of livers gone down to?? People bash on Hex and Zaion for their "aha uwu quirks", Koto's a NEET and the girls are both Japanese, Ver is an obsessive nerd, etc. The only one not surrounded by controversy in XSOLEIL is Doppio (just barely, because apparently he did nsfw shit with his pl?).
I think that, honestly, if Niji had cut this off in the start, none of the Zaion leaks and drama would've happened. Obviously they did a bit better with Yugo, because even if they were terminated--other livers are still in contact with him. They still respect him.
And, as of right now, it doesn't look like either the audience or the livers can respect Zaion (and, as a result, Niji) for the complete fiasco this caused.
If I'm being honest? I think Hex may need to get terminated for his actions as well. While I understand and appreciate him coming out as a survivor of SA and saying that it was a really shitty move for Sayu to make, his past actions kinda... ya know. Make him seem a bit worse in XSOLEIL as well.
If needed, I'll create a pt 2 with his actions.
#zaion lanza#yugo asuma#nijisanji#anycolor#nijien#vtuber#vtuber graduation#vtuber termination#xsoleil#xsoliel#brief hex meloco kotoka ver doppio mentions#brief noctyx sonny alban fulgur uki mentions#blue for yugo or u-san#pink for zaion or sayu#green for the xsoleil members#red for important wordings#i went on a rant lmfao#kotoka torahime#meloco kyoran#doppio dropscythe#ver vermillion#hex haywire#tw sa mention#vtubing#variying
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Remember when Yamaguchi canonically called Yatora a bottom
#genuinely laughed bcs yeah#not to mention it is ‘yaguchi-SAN’ not just yaguchi and the sole person adressing him like thag is yotasuke#so yotasuke called yatora a bottom#blue period#yaguchi yatora#blp official art
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
i need more fanfiction where underswap! sans is written differently. i need more fanfiction focused on him as well. swap! sans is personally one of my favorite sanses and there’s something you can’t just not love about him.
but people need to stop writing him as some innocent guy who knows no wrong (like how they do papyrus). people need to stop babying him.
some people are allowed to like “blueberry” or the fandom version of swap! sans, there’s nothing wrong with that. i just want people to write sans in a new light.
imagine swap! sans befriending a human from another AU that he patrols when working with the stars.
imagine sans and the reader being close friends and the both of them living their lives in a slice of life format. take that same idea but swap! paps is the reader’s best friend instead and sans falls in love with them.
hell, imagine sans and the reader already being intimate with each other but they have to keep quiet about it because one of them is already unhappily taken.
anything works.
swap! sans needs more than just the usual anti/reverse harem story.
#[ written code ]#[ staticky rambles ]#underswap sans#ao3#ao3 undertale#ao3 writer#ao3 fanfic#sans x reader#swap sans x reader#underswap papyrus#the last one i mentioned#was actually written by someone before#the reader is married and basically they're cheating#on their husband with blue#(blue is aware of the husband btw)#AND IT'S SO GOOD#the way that author writes blue is beautiful#and such a breath of fresh air#there are so many story plots#that you can make#just throw blue in there pls#and make him the only love interest#i'll try and think of a more elaborate#story plot later
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
Me: *casually listening to Babooshka*
My thoughts: blueberror and dream..
Me: *confusion* *accidentally imagines a plotline*
#OKAY SO WHAT IF A BLUEBERROR MURDER ARC#he's a star sans but then ask-error happens and he glitches out.#at first he just kills error because error ditched him. but then he turns his anger to ink cause he didn't seem upset that blue was missing#and then blue gets upset at dream because dream kinda treats him like he's a different person now and like the old blueberry is dead#so ink wasn't upset enough and dream was too upset#oh i should mention that i was a hardcore dreamberry (drueberry? drue?) shipper for a while there
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ooohhh, Splatter’s favorite food is cheesecake? I didn’t know that! Do you think Ink’s made her cotton cheesecake before? It’s also known as Japanese cheesecake- Lighter in texture and a bit less sweet. Apparently, it has a soufflé-like texture when it’s fresh out of the oven, but a chiffon-cake-like texture when it’s been chilled! I’m not even a cheesecake person myself, but it sounds pretty good…
On the note of Ink cooking/baking/whatever for Splatter- Do you think they’ve made her those thick, Japanese style pancakes? They look sooo good… And I think they’d be damn good at Japanese cuisine, heh.
Oh my goodness it looks soooo delicious. Well, I definitely think Ink would bake this cheesecake for Splatter NOW! Look at it!!!! (Though Blue is the main cook between the Star Sanses. But he can’t be around all the time so Ink would likely step in to make meals for Splatter in his absence)
Oh she’d be absolutely ECSTATIC if Ink made her that.
And the pancakes??
oh ABSOLUTELY yes!! And they’d both be intricately decorated by Ink. Nothing but the best for his daughter!
It makes a whole lot of sense for Ink to make Japanese recipes, after all japanese culture is part of his inspiration! Splatter would love everything they cook, even if it’s not the best at first 😅. She’d still think it was delicious nonetheless!
Man now I wanna eat these, they look soooo yummy aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ;w;
#undertale au#utmv#ink sans#splattertale#splatterverse lore#splatterutmv#st ink#anonymous ask#cheesecake my (and Splatter’s) beloved <3#st blue#<- he was mentioned
9 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
finecole
i could not whisper when you needed it shouted
trailerparklegends
Trailer Park Legends
peterandygarfield
𝕬𝕹𝕯𝖄
yxita
I'll Hook 'em
girlskissinggifs
Girls kissing gifs