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dixons-sunshine · 1 day

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I'm not even gonna put this as anon like I usually do with requests because I just can't be bothered to- Could you do Daryl making a stressed out reader slow down because she's running herself ragged and needs some downtime? Fluffy all the way.

Reader really is me right now lol

Spa Day | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With the walls needing to be rebuilt, runs needing to be made and crops needing to be planted, it was safe to say that you were at your wit's end. However, things needed to get done, causing you to get overstressed. Luckily Daryl was there to help you slow down and relax.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Mentions of exhaustion.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: My migraine finally subsided enough for me to focus on finishing this. This was a really cute idea and I hope I did it justice. I hope you like this! (Forgot to tag you in this 😅 I was so tired when I posted this. @celtic-crossbow)

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The scorching afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the people of Alexandria. The inhabitants of the safe zone were restlessly working to fortify the fallen walls to ensure that the community remained impenetrable from the the dead wanting to find their next meals.

However, none of them were working themselves to the bone quite like you were. And Daryl was starting to get fed up with your antics.

Daryl grumbled to himself in frustration as he leaned on the car he was busy fixing up, watching as you walked past him in a hurry for the hundredth time that day, occupied with yet another task that somebody else probably could've handled on their own. However, with you being you, he knew that you offered to take someone's job for them so that they could relax and get out of the blazing summer sun, all at your own expense. Everyone else was enjoying their day while you ran around like a headless chicken.

Your caring, helpful and selfless nature was something that the archer loved about you. Despite the horrors in the world, of everything you've seen and experienced, you managed to clutch on to your humanity and keep it locked safely in your being, like a vault. However, on that particular day, he wished so badly that you'd just be selfish and take the day to slow down and unwind, maybe get some much deserved sleep. You were awake even earlier than he was lately, and went to bed way later than almost everyone, so he knew there was no way you were going to last if you kept this up. It seemed to him like it would be his duty to pull you away and force you into your home to relax.

He's officially had enough of your stubbornness. You were going to relax, whether he had to drag you home or not.

He hurried after you, calling your name. You stopped when you heard his voice, turning around to look at your partner. You sent him a smile and called back to him. “Can't talk right now! I have to go help Denise restock the infirmary!”

You turned around and started to stalk off towards the infirmary, but you were stopped in your tracks when Daryl grabbed your wrist and spun you around. You looked up at him in surprise, observing the determined look the archer had in his eyes.

“Daryl, what—”

“Nah, ya ain't goin' nowhere,” he told you matter-of-factly, moving his hand from your arm to hold your hand in his. He looked to the side and saw Aaron walking somewhere with Eric. “Hey, Aaron, Eric! Would ya mind helpin' Denise with restockin' the infirmary? She can't do it alone.”

Aaron smiled and nodded. “Sure! We were just heading that way anyways.”

Before you could start to protest, Daryl started pulling you with him, leading you towards the house. That didn't stop you from trying to resist, however. The need to help everyone, even if they didn't need it, ran deep in you, and you hated that your responsibility was now pushed onto someone else.

“Daryl, what are you doing?” you questioned, sending your partner an incredulous look. “I should be helping Denise. Aaron and Eric were relaxing today. They shouldn't have to tire themselves out.”

“And neither should ya,” Daryl stated, pushing inside your small home and closing the door behind you. “Dun' think I haven't noticed ya overworkin' yerself. Takin' on extra guard duty, workin' day and nigh' to fortify the walls and helpin' Maggie with the crops when she has 'nough people helpin' her already. Yer outta here earlier and earlier each day and gettin' home later each nigh'. Ya deserve to relax, too. And I dun' wanna hear any complaints.”

You couldn't help the smile that spread over your face. Your heart swelled with love for the man before you. Never before in your life had you been with a man quite as amazing as Daryl. None of your previous partners would even have realized that you were working yourself down to the bone. You were extremely lucky to have the archer in your life.

“Okay, Mr Dixon,” you started playfully, sending him a teasing smile. “What do you want me to do first on this relaxation journey you seem to have planned for me?”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. “Go take a shower and get changed into somethin' more comfortable. I'll get started on makin' us somethin' to eat.”

Following his instructions, you headed up the stairs. A few minutes later, Daryl could hear the shower turn on and he inwardly celebrated his victory. You were actually listening to him. You were actually going to relax for the first time in weeks. If he had known that him voicing his concern would get you to start slowing down, he would've done it a while ago.

Working like a man on a mission, he quickly grabbed some pillows and blankets from one of the cupboards and made a comfortable place for you to relax on the couch before moving to the kitchen. Grabbing a few things he needed from the cupboards, he made good on his promise and started preparing a simple snack for the both of you—some omelettes.

In no time at all, you were done in the shower. You got dressed in a pair of freshly washed flannel pants and one of Daryl's shirts and made your way down to the kitchen. However, the sight that met you had you stilling in your tracks—Daryl was busy dishing up the omelettes, a glass of wine for each of you next to the plates.

“Well, this is a sight I could get used to,” you voiced, making the archer turn to face you, pan still in his hand.

He shot you a small smile before handing you a glass of wine, ushering you out of the kitchen. “Go on and get settled on the couch. I'll be right there.”

Accepting the glass of wine, you nodded and headed to the living room, pleasantly surprised to see the blankets and pillows set up on the couch. You did as you were instructed and sat down on the couch, covering your legs and lap with one of the blankets. You were slowly sipping on your wine, waiting for Daryl to join you.

As if being summoned by your mere thoughts, Daryl appeared in the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. He placed one of the plates in your lap before placing his own on the coffee table, moving to grab something from his bag that was resting near the fire place. When he turned around, you audibly gasped in surprise at the object in his hand, placing your glass of wine and plate on the table.

“Where'd you get nail polish?” you questioned excitedly, sitting up straighter to allow Daryl to sit next to you.

“Rosita found some on a run a few days ago,” he explained, sitting down on the couch and gently taking one of your hands. “She didn't like this colour and asked me to give it to ya. I forgot 'bout it until now. Figured I'd paint yer nails and turn this day into a spa day of sorts.”

You smiled fondly at the archer, watching as he placed your hand flat on his leg and opened up the bottle. “You know you don't have to do this, right?”

“I want to,” he replied easily, carefully applying the nail polish to your nails. “Ya've been overworkin' yerself lately. Jus' let me take care of ya, alrigh'?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

The next few minutes was spent in a comfortable silence. Daryl was surprisingly good at applying the nail polish, making little to no mistakes whatsoever. In no time at all, your nails were done, and Daryl motioned for you to turn around. You did so, and practically moaned in relief when Daryl's hands started gently massaging your shoulders. His hands were expertly working at the knots that had formed on your shoulders, transferring you to a state of bliss.

“That feels really good,” you mumbled, closing your eyes at the heavenly feeling.

“Yeah?” Daryl smiled, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before resuming his actions. “Told ya tha' ya were overworkin' yerself. Ya deserve this.”

You let out a groan of satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of Daryl's big, callused hands working at the painful knots. You were in heaven at that moment. Not only did Daryl make you food, he poured you a glass of wine, made you a comfortable spot on the couch, painted your nails and now he was giving you a massage. You truly believed that no man could ever compare to the man you had the lucky privilege of calling yours.

“I love you,” you whispered almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Daryl to catch.

Daryl smiled softly. “I love ya too,” he replied, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before withdrawing. “Now lay flat on yer stomach. S'time to get workin' on yer back now.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully, slowly flipping over to lay on your stomach.

“Good girl.”

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weirdmarioenemies · 12 hours

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Name: Melon Bug (again)

Debut: Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island

(I wanted to write some more about Melon Bug, and I liked the original post just fine, so this post will be a continuation since that one was so short!)

An isopod! Oh, joyous day! It may not look like one at all with that big ol’ nose, but when it’s rolled up, there is no mistaking it! Here’s a very fun fact: when an isopod curls into a ball, it’s called conglobation! Use that in your everyday lives.

Melon Bug technically isn’t an enemy, you know the drill, weird Mario friends, that usual thing. When curled up, Yoshi can lick them up and spit them out, defeating enemies they hit! Could this be the first instance of weaponized isopods?

The Player's Guide says "These feisty hoppers transform from bug to melon and back again." Feisty? They're only slightly more feisty than a real pill bug! And a real pill bug has a negative Feistiness Level. I don't think whoever wrote this has played the game, since Melon Bug is harmless! I also don't think they know about real pill bugs, because they clearly can't cogitate conglobation. A bug transforming into a melon? How unrealistic! What do they think this is, Trip World?

I think "Melon Bug" is a very good name. An incredible name, even! When Melon Bug curls up, it, obviously, resembles a melon, what with both being round with stripes. While real pill bugs don't really have "stripes", their tergites (armor plates) do give a "lined" appearance. If you ask me, Melon Bug could be a good name even for real terrestrial isopods!

What do YOU call pill bugs? I've always called them roly-polies, but they have so many wacky names. Woodlouse? Yeah sure, a bug that lives under wood, why not! Butchy-boy? I don't get it, but it's funny. Then there are all the names comparing them to pigs which I just do not get, but groundhogs also get compared to pigs in common names a lot, so maybe people just don't know pigs as well as they like to think. And THEN! England gave them a bunch of CHEESE-related names. What is happening over there? Are British people somehow making cheese from isopod secretions? Why would you call this creature a CHEESELOG? That's a straight up food! I kind of love this name for them for being so ridiculous! Anyway, my point with all this is that Melon Bug would be more actually fitting than the majority of the common names these have been given, but sometimes it is more fun to be unfitting!

Isn't it weird how Melon Bug's art doesn't quite look like the sprite? Such bulging eyes in the art, but little dots in-game... well, we now know the reason!

Remember Super Donkey, from the 2020 gigaleak? I feel like it's been far too forgotten for how interesting it is! Anyway, as I mentioned when talking about that game, Melon Bug was originally designed for it! It seems like the Yoshi's Island art was drawn before they decided to shrink its sclerae, and lighten its colors, but after they decided to give it little red shoes.

If you grew up calling roly-polies something else, or if you know fun names from other languages, I would love to hear them! And I hope you love and appreciate these creatures! They are so common and easy to observe, so rather than get jaded to their presence, celebrate them, and you will be able to find delight whenever you turn over a log!

#melon bug #yoshis island #super mario world 2: yoshis island #mario entities #weird mario all stars #mod chikako

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annaraebananawriter · 1 day

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(Request) I Bet You Were the Best Brother

It's been a while since I posted a oneshot, so I hope this 5k one manages to make up for that.

As I've mentioned before, been going through a bit of a writer's block that is finally going away. Some it still lingers, but it is infinitely better. Feels like I can breathe again. So, everyone reading this that struggles with writer's block at the moment--know that it will go away. You will be able to write again. It's not a matter of if, only when. You will be able to write again.

Anyway, I don't have any other major life updates for you, so I guess I'll let you start reading now. Happy reading! Let me know what you thought!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: Dream and Nightmare (Who belong to Joku)

Warnings: A character losing their memory and swearing and I think that’s it. Let me know!

Summary: Ilike_cringe (Fri 14 Oct 2022): "here is a request :>. Could you make it that nightmare might have hit dream tooo hard in a fight that (bear with me ) Dream lost his memory ( if you could could you add more spice \^o^/)"

Word Count: 5395

~oOo~

Nightmare wanted there to be a note that the fight started off normal.

His gang showed up, causing some ruckus. He hung out in the background observing, soaking in the new misery like a sponge, keeping an eye out for the tell-tale sign that the Star Sanses had shown up. In today’s case, that ended up being an arrow flying at one of his boys, which barely got dodged, the blue glow disappearing as it left eyesight. Grinning, he had taken it as his cue to join in, grabbing Dream by the ankles as he notched another one, and throwing him across the space.

Not too hard, of course. He didn’t want his brother out of commission quite yet. That was always the fun part about the fight, seeing him defeated. It needs to be drawn out a bit, though, for it to be really satisfying.

Dream recovered from the toss quickly, though he was soaked head to toe—he had unintentionally tossed him into the river. Whoops. The annoyed look on his brother’s face made his grin widen even more. They quickly fell into their routine after that, trading blows and insults, slowly moving away from the others. Another toss had them entering the woods, which resulted in a lot of fallen trees, a clear indicator of where they’d gone.

A cliff came into view, with Dream’s back to it. Nightmare didn’t take much note of it at the time, too preoccupied—his brother had just gotten a pretty bad hit to the back of his skull, making him stumble. Pausing for a minute, he gave him some time to get his bearings back before attacking again, pushing him closer to the cliff edge.

So…technically, this whole thing could be considered his fault, but how was he supposed to know what would happen?

The cliff seemed perfectly safe in the normal dangerous way!

This means the fight was going great until the cliff crumbled under Dream’s feet, making him shriek, eyes widening, his bow dispersing as he pinwheeled backward. Nightmare froze, staring at the now absent spot with eyes equally as wide, tentacles raised to strike.

Then it went silent.

“…shit,” he hissed, automatically turning around in case his brother teleported at the last second to safety. It wouldn’t be the first time, so it shouldn’t be the last time.

No one was there.

He waited.

Still no one.

Maybe Dream was just in shock, still picking himself up. Turning back, Nightmare stepped closer to the cliff, small rocks tumbling after the larger ones from his movements. If he leaned over, he could probably tell…ah, no. Nope, that was just a bunch of trees. His brother was probably under those trees. Probably just picking himself up.

He’ll return in no time.

Nightmare just had to wait.

So, he did.

For one minute. Then two. Then…honestly, he lost track of the minutes after that, glancing back and forth around the clearing, looking over his shoulder at the cliff like Dream would just suddenly appear, having climbed up for some stupid reason. Any minute now, the fight will be back on, continuing as usual…any minute now…

…any minute…

…any—

Okay, so.

Something was wrong.

Turning back to the cliff, he glared at the edge. It was its fault this was happening. Why did it decide to crumble now? Particularly when Dream was on it? Why?

Now his brother was somewhere below, dazed as hell, without the clear thinking necessary to teleport, or injured badly enough to be unconscious—and as soon as that thought popped into existence, he shoved it away, then took time to quell the rising panic in his soul.

No, no, that’s not possible. Dream’s far more durable than that. Sure, it’s a cliff, and cliff’s cause damage, even to immortal beings, but still. His brother could heal, so shouldn’t that work on himself, make him more…invulnerable, or something? Unless…he couldn’t actually heal himself and he’s just been assuming that he could this entire time…no, that couldn’t be possible. Nightmare’s pretty sure he’d remember that if it were the case.

So…what happened?

Maybe…maybe Dream was just staying down there for a while.

He’ll probably join again in a bit.

Yeah, that’s probably it. So, he should really go back and help his boys. Hey, maybe Dream’s already there! Maybe he went to his friends instead. Makes sense, makes sense…

He should go help his boys now, he’s been standing here too long.

And…he wasn’t moving.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Dream’s fine. He’s back at the main fight. It’s something that’s happened before. It should be something that happened here. It’s fine. He can go back. So…what kept him here, staring around like his brother would magically appear, a tight feeling in his chest that threatened to steal the air away from his non-existent lungs?

Maybe…maybe he should just go down there, check on Dream—

That was another thought pushed away. No, hell no. If he gave in to that though, if he went down there to check, now, after too much time has already passed for that to be considered just moving the fight along, that’d be…that’s cause his brother to hope. Hope that things could go back to the way things were before the apples. He can’t go through the painstaking steps needed to crush that hope, put off the last stubborn spark that remained until he was sure it wouldn’t create another flame. Not again.

Besides, he didn’t even care. Not that much. Sure, yeah, he cared somewhat, always would—that’s just naturally part of being a brother. But the majority of how much he cared was in the past, before everything was plucked off a tree in the form of a black apple and devoured. That care no longer exists, taken over by the need to win all these fights, making the scales tip in his direction.

It just…didn’t exist. He didn’t care.

(Some days, it was harder to convince himself of this fact than others.

This was one of them.)

He didn’t care, so he should so rejoin his boys, and get out of this AU.

This time, he teleported.

It was an easy win. Dream never came back.

When it came time to go home, Nightmare couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering away from his boys, who were celebrating as usual, over to the trees. In the direction of the cliff, even if he couldn’t see it from here.

The tight feeling in his chest squeezed and squeezed. His tentacles flicked nervously behind him. For some reason, he kept thinking that now was the moment his brother would appear, now was the moment he could stop all this silly, stupid worry, go back to being angry. And the longer he looked, the more that thought wavered and shook, gathering speed as it transformed into a tornado that threatened to consume all of his other priorities until he made sure Dream was okay. But the only way to do that was to go and check, and leaving now would just make the boys confused and worried, which he could not handle right now.

Besides, he was sure it was fine.

He got them all home before he could convince himself otherwise, before the urge to make sure was too overpowering. To make sure he was really distracted, he holed himself up in his office, pulling out some paperwork—which wasn’t even real paperwork, just a bunch of sudoku and word searches and other puzzles printed out to make it look like he was working on important stuff.

For the most part, it worked. Kept his mind too busy to think about what happened.

Then he got to one particular word search that—and he is not joking or exaggerating this part—had three words at the bottom for him to find, all in a row, that read: ‘Dream’, ‘injury’, and ‘concussion’. Isn’t that just the strangest collection of words you’ve ever seen? The surreal coincidence of the words made Nightmare stare down at the page for a minute, completely gobsmacked. Who the hell was writing these word searches, and why the fuck did they include these three specific words on the same one?

It was like a sign or something…

Sneering, Nightmare tore the word search up into tiny pieces, sitting back in his chair, spinning around and around. Trying very hard not to think about the three words. And how his brother never came back. And how the yelp he let out when he fell just fell silent and how he never bothered to check and—

And now he was thinking about it.

“Fuck.”

Growling to himself, he stopped spinning in his chair. Then, he promptly stood and teleported back to the AU.

Leaning over the cliff again, he teleported down. His brother wasn’t anywhere in the immediate proximity—though, why would he be? This was all just a waste of time—so he started walking around, ducking under some tree branches. When he fell, Dream would’ve had to have landed somewhere around here…though he still wasn’t sure why he was searching.

His brother was probably gone by now. His friends probably came to collect him.

Why did he think he’d find him here, lying on the ground as if nothing happened? As if he just decided to take an impromptu nap, in the snow and in wet clothes and…

Oh. Oh, shit.

That was actually Dream lying there in front of him.

Fuck.

Almost tripping over himself, Nightmare hurried over, falling to his knees beside his brother. His hands hovered in the air around him, unsure what to do. “Dream?” he called, hoping to wake him up. Nothing happened.

Dream didn’t move.

For a soul-stopping moment, Nightmare actually thought he might be dead. Panic swirled in his chest, choking him, until he remembered that if they were dead, their body would turn to dust. Presumably, anyway, since they had no real way of knowing that until they…y’know…actually died, but still. The thought allowed him to gather himself enough to Check his brother, make sure of it. It said he was fine, if missing a chunk of health.

Nightmare breathed out, hating how shaky it was. “Idiot, making me worry for nothing…” he muttered to himself, looking down at his brother, frowning. Shaking his shoulder, he raised his voice a bit, eager to wake him up, make sure he left to wherever, hopefully back to his friends, and get home himself before his boys wondered where he went off to. “Dream. Wake up.”

No response. Dream was still. Breathing—he double-checked, just to be sure—but still.

Frowning, he shook him again, rougher. Still nothing.

Even unconscious, his brother insisted on being annoying. Scowling, he sat back on his heels. “If you don’t wake up, I’m going to kick you.”

Nothing.

Welp. His hand was forced.

Standing, Nightmare kicked Dream in the side—not too hard, of course, he’s not a complete monster. Just enough that he woke up.

Which he did.

Finally.

Nightmare rolled his eye to himself, crossing his arms as he watched his brother groan, coming to. A hand half-raised to his head before stopping, eyes blinking open and squinting against the light. His eyelights were paler than normal, just a hair bigger, too. He could see the exact moment they focused in, his brother clocking that there’s someone standing above him, but Dream didn’t panic, didn’t seem to be anything more than confused.

Dream blinked again. “Hi.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone. Seriously? That’s it? He fought the urge to roll his eye again. “What are you still doing here?”

His brother seemed to get more confused. “What?”

Wondering if the fall knocked loose some brain cells, Nightmare scowled. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You know what. What are you still doing here? This is, like, the most uncomfortable spot to have a nap.” Without waiting for him to answer, he continued, waving a hand around. He couldn’t let the opportunity to mock him go by. “And why didn’t you rejoin the fight? I thought you had a duty to protect the positivity in the multiverse.”

“Um…” Dream blinked for a third time, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He laughed, nervously, like a reflex, and when he opened his eyes again, they were fuzzy again. “Sorry, you went a bit fast for me there. Could you repeat that?”

Ugh. Now he was just being difficult.

“You’re so annoying.” Nightmare said, stepping away. “Just get up and get out of here.”

Looking up at him, the words seemed to take a few minutes to sink in. Then, nodding, Dream tried to stand, movements jerky, as if he was figuring out how to move them for the first time again. When he stood, he wobbled, tilting over a bit before righting himself.

Nightmare realized he had stepped forward, ready to catch him should he fall, and retreated, tucking his hands back into his arms.

Damnit. He was slipping. He had to get out here, fast.

“I’m alright.” Dream said, clearly noticing his misstep. He was smiling. Nightmare had to look away before the sight made him feel warm inside. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Whatever,” Nightmare said in return, leaving it at that.

Still smiling, his brother shifted on his feet, looking down at his hands and clenching them into fists a couple of times. His gaze wandered back up to him, and then away, looking around them with a curious, still confused, look. It was almost like he was trying to figure out where he was, as if he wasn’t just in a fight here earlier.

He couldn’t have forgotten that fast, could he? And what was he still doing here?

Shouldn’t he be opening a portal by now?

“What are you waiting for?”

Snapping back to look at him, Dream didn’t seem to understand the question. “Huh?”

Waving a hand again, tentacles flicking behind him, Nightmare’s scowl deepened. Why the fuck was he acting so weird? “Open a portal already and go home. Your friends are probably worried sick by now.”

(He ignored the voice in his head that said he was starting to get worried, too.)

“Right, right.” Dream nodded, trying and failing to look like he knew what he was talking about. “A portal…see, um, I would do that…but, uh…” Looking around again, shifting some more, his smile turned sheepish. “Well, I don’t remember, exactly, how to do that.”

Nightmare did not return the smile, unamused. He just stared.

What the fuck? What was he playing at? What was the point in drawing all this out? Nostalgia? What did he get out of acting so weird? What was going on here?

“Do you think this is a fucking game?” Nightmare asked, voice slipping off into a growl. His tentacles moved restlessly. He was getting agitated now. He just wanted to go home, get back to his puzzles, and maybe sleep for a week. But no, he was here, playing along with this stupidness, unable to get a grasp on what was happening.

Dream looked alarmed, holding his hands up and shaking them furiously. “No! No—”

“Then why the fuck are you wasting my time? I come out here, in the middle of the evening, to make sure you’re good, and you decide to, what, pull a joke on me?” Unable to curb his irritation, he shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “Stars, I hate you. I’m reminded now why I don’t bother doing this for you. You never take it seriously.” Turning he started to walk away, hearing Dream stutter excuses behind him.

He didn’t want to hear any excuses. He was done. He was going home.

“It’s not—I’m not joking,” Dream called after him, footsteps crunching on the snow as he chased after him.

“Of course, you are!” Nightmare sighed, in annoyance or anger or both of them combined. He didn’t care anymore. “You always are!” He didn’t bother stopping or turning around. Just continued on. And then he remembered he didn’t have to walk away at all, could just make a portal out. Turning his annoyance to himself, he raised a hand to do so—

“I don’t remember that.”

—and stopped.

The statement struck the right chord, making something inside him fall to the pit of his stomach, pricking him uncomfortably. Slowly, he turned to face Dream again, paying more attention. “…what?”

“I—I don’t remember that,” Dream said, tone so genuine, eyes so wide and confused and even scared that it seemed to create a physical attack on his soul. Raising a hand, his brother held it to his head. “I thought if I waited a bit, I might remember something, but I don’t. It’s all just…blank. I don’t know anything you’re talking about, like the fight or my friends. I place any faces to them or names or anything.” He let his hand fall, shaking his head as he turned his gaze down to his feet, speaking softly. “I just don’t remember.”

The words pushed Nightmare out of the present, sending him spiraling into the black hole opening in his ribs, right where his soul is. They pressed in on him, reverberating, turning into a high pitch that buzzed inside him, threatening to cut off his breath.

He didn’t want to believe the words. In fact, he was trying his absolute best not to. Excuses flew through, nitpicking through the explanation and finding words that betrayed the real truth. He told himself over and over that no matter what, no matter how injured he got, Dream would never allow this to happen. His brother would hold onto himself with an iron grip, too desperate to let go, and the Multiverse would allow him to hold on because it was just another being that favored him. They would not let their favorite Guardian lose his precious memories, not for all the stories it brought them.

No, it just wasn’t possible. He was lying—though the reason why was unclear, and nothing could really justify it, he had to be lying. It was a trick, a ploy, maybe even a trap. Yes, that’s it. Any minute now, the other Star Sanses would jump out, pull their weapons, and Dream would drop this façade and go back to pleading with him and when it didn’t work, when Nightmare lashed out in anger, he would pull out his bow and—and—

It just---it had to be a trick.

It had to.

It…

His eyes didn’t look like he was lying, though.

No matter how long he searched, how close he looked, it was a blank sheet of gold. He found confusion, yes, he found anxiety—nothing new there—but he did not find any recognition. Hope and helplessness, but no relief in having someone he knew find him. Even now, as his brother looked around the clearing, he only saw curiosity, as if he hadn’t seen this place before, as if he had just arrived, as if he had just woken up and was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. The eyes came back to his, smiled at him, and—

And they were still blank.

A ghost.

The black hole in his ribs widened, pulling him in faster. Digging his heels in, he resisted with everything he had, swimming back out. He had to confirm this, he told himself, had to make sure this was the truth. If there was any chance he did remember, whether that be his friends or his title or Night—

Well, Nightmare just had to find it. He had to.

He heard himself speak before he was fully back in his body. “Did you hit your skull?”

“Ah, maybe?” Dream tilted his head, reaching around to the base of it before retracting quickly, wincing. “Yes. Yeah, I did.”

“Turn around.”

Obedient, Dream did, and Nightmare stepped closer, observing the crack. It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting—certainly not as big—but it was still enough to make bile climb up the back of his throat. Swallowing it down, he darted his gaze around it, taking in the gaping black hole, about the size of a cherry, thinner cracks webbing out from around it. It had blood crusted on the edges, and he was sure that if he took the time to look around the cliff, he’d find matching spots.

Absently reaching out, he traced along the wound with his fingers. Stars, how he wished he knew how to heal. This would be so much easier.

Dream pulled away after his fingers made contact, and he let his hand fall as he turned back, already apologizing. “Sorry! Sorry, that just…really hurt.” He laughed again, but it petered out as he caught sight of Nightmare’s face. “Oh…that bad of a sight, huh?”

“You said…” Nightmare swallowed again, ignoring those words. “You said you don’t remember anything?” The feeling in the pit of his stomach clenched.

“No.” Oblivious, Dream shook his head. “The latest memory I have is of you standing over me. Before that…” Tilting his head again, his brother thought about it, ultimately coming up with nothing. No spark in his eyes. “Nothing.” He looked regretful, like he wished he could be of more help. “Sorry.”

There he went again, apologizing.

Nightmare was going to have to have a talk with him about that. He can’t keep saying sorry for things that he didn’t need to say sorry for in the first place.

First, however, was dealing with—this.

“So…” He didn’t want to ask the next question. It burned in his throat, made his tongue curl in preparation, the words too ugly to even think about. Why did it need to be said? He already knew the answer to it. Why did he insist on asking it when he knew what was going to be said? He would rather them stand like this forever than ask it.

That was a risk, though. And he would really like to get some sleep tonight—even if that might be impossible the longer this sank in. They should really wrap this up soon.

That meant asking uncomfortable questions.

Swallowing himself down, Nightmare let the question go. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway. “You don’t remember me?” The words lingered in the air, an odd hint of emotion to them, something fragile and vulnerable.

(He knew the answer to why he wanted to ask this.

Somehow, somewhere inside him, there was still a need that maybe something would be remembered. If the longer they talked, the greater the chance the memories would just snap back into place. That the hollow feeling of having someone you grew up with look at you like one would a stranger would disappear, replaced by joy or anger or tears, anything else.

Inside, if nothing else, he needed there to be a chance he’d be remembered.)

It felt like hope.

“No.” Dream answered, the shaking of his head feeling like salt poured into open wounds. He seemed disappointed in himself, upset he couldn’t help. For him, this was failing at giving someone what they wanted.

For Nightmare, this was confirmation.

(It felt like denial.)

(There was a stinging in his chest. Where did it come from?)

“Where you someone important?”

Nightmare automatically bristled. “I—” He stopped himself, glaring down at the ground while clenching his jaw.

His instinct was to say that, of course he was. He was Dream’s brother. They grew up together. They were, still are, two halves of the same coin, two halves to the same balance. Despite everything, that had to mean something.

But that wasn’t the truth, was it?

Not anymore.

Maybe one time, before The Incident, before the villagers came to them. It was just the two of them, after all. And Mother, but she couldn’t really say much, or do anything beyond existing. Maybe then they were each other’s most important person. And maybe it would’ve stayed that way had everything not gone to shit.

But the point was, that was in the past.

Whatever they had, it was gone. In more ways than one now…

Inhaling, Nightmare looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That…depends on your definition of important.”

They had other people in their lives now. He had his gang, his boys. Though he often complained about their foolishness and called them idiots, not once had he ever wished he hadn’t met them. Dream, he knew, felt much the same about Ink and Blue. Neither of them would trade their friends for the world.

Even for each other.

“I was—” Nightmare sighed, rolling back his shoulders. “I’m your brother. Nightmare.” He forced himself to look back at Dream, even if the eye contact burned his soul with something uncomfortable. “Your name is Dream, by the way. In case you forgot that, too.”

“Cool!” Dream paused and gasped, beaming as he made the connection. “Our names match!”

“Yeah.” Nightmare said, forcing himself to smile back. “Yeah, they do.” Of course they did, he thought to himself. That’s the reason why they chose the names.

Brow furrowing, Dream tilted his head. “Wait, if we’re brothers, wouldn’t I just live with you, then?”

“What?” Nightmare felt himself frown in return. “Why do you think we’d live together?”

Strange, considering Dream didn’t even remember him.

(There was that stinging again.)

“I-I don’t know, I just…I have this feeling that brothers should be living together. That they need to live together. I don’t know why, but it’s a very strong feeling.” Dream raised a hand to his chest, hovering over where his soul would be. “When I think about you, um, that feeling gets all…strange.”

This caught his attention. “Strange?”

“Yeah.” Nodding slowly, Dream worked through it, finding what to call it. “I think it…I think it turns jealous, somehow.”

Nightmare stared.

Jealous…?

That couldn’t be right. Dream had to be reading it wrong.

There was nothing to be jealous about. His brother always had the perfect life. What more could he want?

If anything, he should be the one jealous. He’s the only one who deserves to be jealous. Jealous of the way people were always drawn to his brother over himself, the way people thought everything of the sun and nothing of the moon, even though they both shared the same light. It was his right to be envious, his right to look upon the past and view it with bitterness. It was his right to look at the present, now, when Dream still has his friends and his standing and still has everyone revolving around him.

At least he can find relief, find arrogance, in the fact that he found his own friends, his own group of people who looked up to him. It took years, it took work, but he found them.

He didn’t need Dream anymore.

(So, what if sometimes he looked at his brother and his friends and felt a longing to join them?

So, what if he found the way they laughed, the way they treated each other, a reminder that he’s done too many things to be treated like that again?

So, what if he’s tired of fighting all the time and wants to go back to how things were, while knowing that could never happen, while looking across the battlefield into golden eyes that reflected the same kind of feelings and—and…oh.

Oh.

Oh, they would never escape being peas in a pod, would they?)

“Hey, you mentioned my friends, though.” Dream said, brightening up again, looking around like they might just pop up. Not that he would recognize them. “Maybe we could find them and they could help me get home. What do you think of that?”

Maybe, Nightmare thought, looking away as well. He couldn’t lie, it would be nice to leave this place, and dump the responsibility of an amnesiac onto someone else. Especially the Guardians of the Multiverse, the coveted Star Sanses.

But something twisting in his stomach stopped him from agreeing.

He thought, all too suddenly, about how he came back hours later to his brother still lying in relatively the same spot he fell. Meaning Ink and Blue never came back to look for him after they retreated. You’d think, for monsters that claimed to be his best friends, they’d be out here the minute the battle was over, bringing Dream back home to be checked on.

Why should he trust his brother with those two, when they didn’t even search for him? They probably don’t even know he’s missing. They certainly don’t know he’s injured. He can’t help but wonder what their reactions would’ve been to this memory loss.

Too bad he won’t find out.

“I think they’re busy, actually.” Nightmare decided, making a split decision that he hoped wasn’t wrong. “And going to be busy for the week yet.”

“Oh…”

Dream looked disappointed. Hurt.

The look on his face only solidified Nightmare’s decision. His tentacles curled in satisfaction. “You can come home with me, though. Stay for a bit.”

“Really?” Starting to brighten yet again, Dream seemed to hesitate, searching to make sure he was telling the truth.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.” Dream’s smile lit up the forest, and Nightmare turned himself away before he found himself getting soft because of it. Raising a hand to open the portal, he heard Dream chuckle behind him. “I gotta say, even though I don’t remember it, I bet you were the best brother ever.”

The words were said so confidently, so…normally…it made Nightmare freeze. The portal wobbled in front of him, but stayed open, and he blinked at it a couple of times before he turned back to his brother.

His mouth was dry, for a reason he couldn’t yet understand.

“What?”

“Well, I mean…it’s like you said. You came all this way, in the middle of the night, to check on me. You were worried. And then, when you found me, you stayed to wake me up, even though you technically already completed your goal. You didn’t just leave. And you checked my injury without me asking you to, and told me my name, and now you’re offering to let me stay at your place.”

Dream’s smile turned smaller, more vulnerable. “It just seems like a very nice thing to do.”

Nightmare’s gaze was frozen, locked onto that genuine, soft smile. The last sentence played on a loop, ringing inside his skull.

A very nice thing to do.

In any other situation, the suggestion would be laughable.

But like this…

(There was that stinging. Again. Why won’t it just go away?)

He thought back to the fight that happened earlier. How he reveled in the pain he caused, how much fun he had taunting his brother. How often he attacked him, without worry or caution. How eager he was to throw him around into trees, back him up into a cliff. He hadn’t even thought about what might happen, too giddy, too smug. All he wanted to do was put him in his place…he hadn’t even cared that he was bleeding…hadn’t even reached out to try and save him when the cliff crumbled…

How long had Dream laid there, in the snow, still in wet clothes?

What did he think as he watched Nightmare watch him fall?

How can that be called nice?

How can what happened during The Incident be called nice? What kind of brother turned his twin into stone, and left him in a dead AU all alone, knowing full well that he would one day return? What kind of brother picked an apple he was supposed to protect in the first place? What kind of brother was he?

Certainly not the kind this Dream was talking about…

“Right.” Nightmare said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He understood why this time. He wanted to throw up. “Thanks.”

Dream didn’t notice anything wrong. Still smiling away. As always. Always. “No problem!” Rocking back on his heels, he started to look around as his attention span waned with no portal to go through.

Still, Nightmare did not move to open it.

Instead, he found himself changing tracks. Jumping train from thinking about how bad of a brother he was, to how good of a brother Dream was.

Is.

Was.

Stars, this was so confusing…

“You weren’t that bad of a brother yourself.” Nightmare said, and this time the words were better tasting. At least this way, something true would be said here.

Dream looked back at him, surprised, with a spark of confusion. Then, even if he didn’t know everything Nightmare was talking about, he smiled, taking it as the compliment it was. “Aw, thanks.”

Nodding, Nightmare finally managed to open the portal, letting Dream go through first. He hesitated to follow, looking around the AU again. For some reason, he felt like he would still find his brother, memories and all, waiting for him if he looked hard enough. But he wouldn’t. He knew that.

At least, he had to accept that.

That stinging again…

Showing it down once again, Nightmare turned and went home.

(It’s only after Dream is settled into one of the guest bedrooms—stocked with fresh bedsheets and a fresh pair of clothes for the next day borrowed from Nightmare’s own closet—and he’s back in the safety of his office that he lets his composure finally break. Choking, he slides down his door, hand clasped over his mouth to keep as quiet as possible.

It’s only then that he lets himself cry.

Cry about how he never reached out to catch his brother when he first fell.

Cry about what his brother thought before splitting his skull on a rock.

Cry about the stranger left in his brother’s body.

Cry about everything.)

#my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #request #undertale #utmv #dreamtale #dream sans #nightmare sans #tw swearing #tw amnesia

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 day

Text

Cancelled

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Your plans change.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Sat on a few of these fics for ages because I'm overthinking them, but thought 'ahhh, I need to post them now in time for the event!' Having a deadline is very helpful.

Warnings: Reader experiencing some sensory issues, Jake reading smutty books, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, rail-road sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 801

Your phone buzzes on the bed. The drone is muffled slightly by the pillow it’s under. You finish fixing your outfit in the mirror and sigh.

The material was ever so slightly wrong today. Normally it was fine, but now the feel of it just irritated you. But this was the seventh outfit you’d tried on and honestly if you were going to make it to the restaurant by 8pm, even with Jake’s ingenious driving, you had to leave now.

You pick up your phone, glancing at the screen as you unlock it.

One message.

From one of your friends you were meeting up with. Probably something along the lines of ‘see everyone soon’. Usually you were excited to see them. They were some of your oldest and dearest friends, and you loved their company. But today it just felt off. Getting dressed up and going out. Eating at a semi expensive (for your budget anyway) restaurant that you didn’t even like that much. Putting on your ‘social interaction face’. It all just seems far too exhausting.

Your eyes widened as you read the messages on the group chat.

‘Can’t make it, stupid traffic at the tunnel! Been stuck for 50 mins and haven’t moved!’

‘I can’t either, babysitter fell through!’

‘So sorry everyone, maybe it’s for the best, I’ve got a horrible headache and was gonna power through, but maybe it’s best if we reschedule?’

The last message had you at-ted.

‘It’s that okay with you? Sorry you let you down! <3’

Relief floods your veins and you hastily type a, ‘no worries, let’s reschedule’, adding several happy face emojis out of paranoia that your message could be misread, before you wish everyone well and to have a good evening.

Jake hears you throw your bedroom door open, but doesn’t glance up from where he’s slouched over your armchair reading. It’s one of those bodice-ripping paperbacks from the 80s with the fabulously illustrated covers. Jake’s guilty pleasure. While he knows that Marc and Steven wouldn’t care, and most likely wouldn’t be bothered at all by his reading choices, he also very much does not want them to know. A feeling he’s sure he should try to unpack at some point.

But that was a future Jake task.

Which is why he’d taken to either hiding them behind the cistern in Steven’s flat or keeping them at yours, tucked neatly on your bookshelf (with your permission) behind a row of your books.

“You ready to go amor?” He asked as he turned the page.

You bounded over to him, ripping your stupid, itchy top off in the process. “Excellent news!” You stopped in front of him, smacking your hands onto the armchair for emphasis.

Jake didn’t even flinch, half absorbed in his book and half used to your dramatic flare.

“Oh?” He glanced up at you and paused, a small frown of interest crossing his face. “You don’t have a top on.”

“Exceptional observation skills Lockey.”

He smirks.

“Guess what?”

“You’re embracing a new life as a nudist?”

“The meal’s cancelled.”

“What?”

“The meal’s cancelled. You know cancelled, as in not happening.” You grin.

He gives you a playful look and swats your upper arm softly with his book. (His middle finger pressed inside to keep his page.) “I know what cancelled means, why?”

“Traffic, no babysitter, and headache.” You list the reasons as you count them on your hand excitedly.

He smiles. “Really weren’t feeling it today were you?”

“How could you tell?” You say playfully.

“Well, you kicking the door open to tell me was a good give away.”

You laugh.

“Plus, you really were leaving it pretty fine to get there on time.” He slips his bookmark between the pages and puts the book down on the floor before inching forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and gently pulls you into his lap, giving you plenty of time to step back if you wanted to. “I know how much being late makes you anxious.”

You snuggle up to him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. His day old stubble rubs against your skin. But this sensation is comforting. Like home.

“So you letting it get to this time without us going, or without you telling me off for reading instead of putting my shoes on.”

“I don’t tell you off.” You grumble, your words muffled by how your mouth is pressed against his neck.

Jake laughs. “Playfully.”

You tut affectionately. “Alright, playfully.” You adjust your position on his lap, getting comfortable.

“So, what do you want to do tonight?” He presses a light kiss to your temple.

“Hmm, how about… pizza and you can read some of your smutty book to me?”

He laughs again and kisses your lips. “Sounds good.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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solo-pitstop-vibes · 3 days

Text

Rowing Pair - Part Two | Don Hume

Don Hume x Original Character

Hi! This is definitely not super edited and maybe a little rushed, but I wanted to post something so here we are! Enjoy part two of Rowing Pair! More to come from Allie and Don...

Part one here!

...

Don gets a little courage after the Huskies' first win.

...

The early morning breeze is chilly coming off the water. Rowing practice is in full swing, and Allie is standing with the other coaches. Bundled up in a thick sweater, her arms are crossed for more than one reason. Ulbrickson paces the length of the Varsity boat, shaking his head,

“34 strokes. You’re fine at 34 strokes. Anything higher and you fall apart. 34 strokes, you don’t beat Cal. 34 strokes, you don’t win at Poughkeepsie. You certainly don’t get to Germany. You know who you beat with 34 strokes?”

He throws his arm out, pointing with his notebook. “The JV boat. Maybe,” he says, turning to the JV crew lounging on the dock. “What are you guys waiting for? Get back in the boat.”

Scrambling to their feet, the younger crew hustles back into their shell. The last few days of practice had not gone well for either team. The Varsity crew was looking worse by the day, and the JV boat wasn’t coming together as they should. Another hour passes with the rowing shells making their way up and down the channel. No one is happy with the progression of the day. The coaches are climbing out of the motorboat, waiting for the two row boats to finish floating in.

Allie looks to Ulbrickson,

“Permission to speak candidly, sir?”

Al gives her a curt nod.

“I don’t think Glenn is a good fit for the boat, they need someone with more fire. There’s a lot of energy to wrangle in that shell, and I don’t think he can do it.”

Al’s eyebrows raise in interest, “Okay, then who would you suggest?”

“You know who.”

That statement gets Allie a pointed look from Ulbrickson without hesitation,

“We’ll talk about it later.”

The next practice, Bobby Moch strutted down the dock and straight into the cox seat of the JV shell. Three practices later, they were rowing like a well-oiled machine. Allie stood next to Ulbrickson and Bolles, watching from the dock. Allie couldn’t help the smug smile trying to break its way onto her face.

“Better?” she asked Al, hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on her heels.

That got her another pointed look, but this time followed by a small smile.

“Better.”

...

“They’re catching up!”

Joyce’s voice rings out amongst the cheering crowd, her hand gripped tightly in Allie’s. Their eyes trained on the two boats making their way through the water, even from far away, they can tell Washington is slowly making their way alongside the Cal boat.

Allie declined Pocock’s invitation to watch along the shore of the finish line, instead choosing to watch the race with Joyce on one of the observation boats. She clearly made the better choice with how invigorating it was to her and feel the crowd cheer around them. Allie and Joyce were only one of many yelling at the top of their lungs as Washington surged past the halfway point, swiftly passing the waning Cal crew.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, Bobby,” Allie mutters under her breath.

Bobby gives the opposing coxswain a taunting wave as they push ahead. The Washington crew's speed began building and paired with a synchronized technique, they were pulling away. Each crew member strained with each row of their oars, and their chests heaved. The crowd’s volume surged, and the announcer began shouting through the intercom as Washington pulled further ahead. Approaching the finish line, they were ahead by a full boat. Closer and closer to the finish line, pushing themselves to the limit.

“And there’s the flag! Washington has done it!”

Allie and Joyce grab each other once again, jumping in joy with their arms around each other. Joyce exclaiming,

“They did it! They really did it!”

As they glide to a stop, splashing surrounds the winning crew as they celebrate. They’re all damp by the time they come to a stop, with huge smiles on their faces. Don shakes hands with Bobby before looking up into the crowd. Catching eyes with Allie, his smile widens as he excitedly waves in her direction. Allie laughs at Don’s excitement, sending back a small wave and a massive grin.

…

The party was in full swing by the time Allie arrived, and she stood outside for a few moments trying to get her bearings. She was practically shoved out of Ulbrickson’s office an hour ago with a promise from Tom that they were done reviewing footage for the night. Allie was still standing outside, nervously smoothing out her dark green dress when Bobby’s smiling face appeared in the doorway. His jacket had already been abandoned somewhere; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Leaning on the propped open door, he spoke,

“Scared to come in?”

Allie shook her head, “No, it’s just weird because I’m late and coming in alone.”

Bobby clicked his tongue, making his way down the steps to her with his hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s not weird, I’ll go in with you. This party is just as much for you as it is for us.”

She didn’t move, just giving Bobby a nervous glance. Bobby’s expression softens,

“Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway. Ulbrickson told me that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and that I wasn’t an option until you suggested me. So, thank you. I’m really happy to be back on the team.”

Allie hadn’t known Bobby long, but they had become close over the summer. While he was strong-headed and liked to act on his own fruition, he always valued Allie’s opinion. She was stunned when he was removed from the crew. Unfortunately, Ulbrickson had used Bobby’s punishment to teach the crew a lesson. Everyone is replaceable, he had said. That’s why he was so hesitant to bring him back and eat his own words.

“I’m really glad you’re back too, Bobby. It wasn’t the same without you.”

Allie meant it. Bobby brought out more in the JV team than he ever could have with the varsity team, and the potential was building.

Bobby knocked his shoulder against hers, flashing Allie a cheeky smile, “Come on, time to let loose. I bet you can get some schmuck in there to dance with you in the first five minutes!”

Allie smiled softly, shaking her head, “Oh, maybe I’ll just watch. I don’t want to dance with just anybody.”

Before she finishes her sentence, the coxswain is already nudging her towards the door encouragingly, “Well I’ll dance with you if you don’t see anyone who passes the test. Although I might have a suggestion or two myself on who to go for.”

His hand is firm on her back as they break through the doorway. Allie glances around, looking for another familiar face. She spots Don almost immediately, sitting on a bench alone with his hands tucked in his pockets. His cute little frown painted across his face. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

“There might be one good one in this bunch, but I might take you up on that offer later,” Allie gives Bobby a small smile, glancing away from Don before Bobby could catch on. Little did she know, Bobby already had plans in motion. While he couldn’t confirm her crush on Don, he sure could confirm Don’s crush on Allie. Having caught on to Don’s puppy dog eyes at practice the week prior, Bobby was determined for Don to make a move after their maiden win. There was no better time.

In the center of the room, couples were dancing to the big band music flowing through the speakers with others sitting at tables that hugged the sides of the room. Allie finds Joyce and Joe sitting close at a small table and notices Shorty slipping off outside with one of Joyce’s roommates. Noticing Allie, Joyce waves her over, gushing about how great she looks. Bobby dashes into action, scrambling through the crowd to Don. Joyce would hold Allie off for a few minutes, she was a talker just like he was. Bobby slides down the bench, settling beside his teammate.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Don shrugs, “I’m watching.”

Bobby glances around, Allie is still talking to Joyce. Good. “Why aren’t you talking to anybody?”

“I’m not much of a talker,” Don replies. His hands are still shoved into his pockets, no intention of moving.

“Oh.” Bobby nods, “Well, look over there. See her?” Motioning in the direction of Allie, who has now glanced up and caught the pair talking. Don balks, catching eyes with Allie and swiftly looking away, straight ahead. His throat is dry, and he blinks, “Y-yeah, I see her.”

“Allie said to me that she wasn’t going to dance with just anybody. Now, I’ve offered to dance with her if she doesn’t want to dance with anyone else but…,” Bobby turns in towards Don for emphasis. “Listen, Hume. Tonight, not tomorrow night, or next week. Tonight is your best shot.”

A beat passes, and Bobby thinks he’s convinced him.

“You go on. I think I’m okay.”

Bobby could smack Don Hume upside the head in an instant. “Christ sake,” he mutters, glancing again between Don and Allie. Don nods his head in quick succession, confirming he’s not changing his mind. Yeah, he and Allie had talked a good bit, and he had walked her to her dorm a few times after practice, but she had only kissed him on the cheek once. There’s no way that Allie liked him, he thought. He felt like she was just that nice to everyone. Defeated, Bobby huffs again, looking around the room. All the other guys were dancing with a girl. Well, Johnny and Roger were dancing together, but Bobby could still count that as dancing with someone.

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and before he could think again, Bobby shoots off the bench and towards the stage. Quickly cutting the music off, he steps up to the microphone.

“Hey, listen up!”

The crowd stops dancing and turns to the commotion on stage, Allie included.

“We got a musician in our midst. With a little encouragement, we might just get him to give us some live music. Don Hume! Get up here. Get up here!”

The crew rushes around Don and despite his protests, they drag him up by his arms and carry him towards the stage. As they’re settling him down around the piano, Bobby motions to Chuck, quietly telling him to go find Allie and to bring her upfront. Chuck dashes off, racing through the crowd before finding the young girl towards the back of the room. She gives him an odd look when he stops abruptly in front of her, slightly winded from his frantic search.

“Moch is requesting that you come up front,” Chuck makes a grand gesture of holding his arm out for her to take, which she does hesitantly. Bobby had something in play, and she was suspicious. In a way, Bobby thought that above all else, if he could get both Don and Allie to let loose with a little fun and music, then he could call his plan a partial success. He hoped, however, that Don’s little performance might give him some courage. Don settles in at the piano and looks out to the crowd, just as Allie steps into place between Bobby and Chuck.

He forces himself not to freak out with Allie front and center. He glances back at the piano then back to Bobby, then to Allie. She looked beautiful. Her hair is down, blonde curls falling down her shoulders, and right then and there, Don decides that dark green is his new favorite color. Her full attention is on him, and for those few seconds, he felt like he was in heaven. Tearing himself away, he turns to the piano fully and takes a few deep breaths. This is it, he thought.

Before he can second guess himself, he starts off the first tune that comes to mind- the same tune that Allie had been humming to herself at practice. Don played the first few notes and Allie broke out into a huge smile, recognizing the tune immediately. Soon everyone was dancing and singing along with the JV crew singing the loudest. Enamored with Don’s newfound confidence, Allie could hardly look away even with Bobby, Chuck, and Roger taking turns twirling her around every so often.

They could dance and sing all night, but as Don plays the final notes and the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts in cheers. For a few moments, Don takes in the cheers and applause before he turns to the crowd and bows his head, looking up with a smug smirk. Quite the opposite of his usual shy smile. Allie catches his gaze when he looks up. She’s hooked the second they lock eyes. She almost feels dizzy when Don’s smug smirk is accompanied by a quick wink in her direction. A deep blush rushes to her face, her lip taut between her teeth. Now, she’s the one in heaven.

When Don descends from the stage, he’s greeted by more celebration from the boys grabbing him up and patting him on the back with each telling him how great of a job he did. Others from the crowd doing the same. Allie stood aside, waiting her turn to congratulate him after all the boys did. Once the crowd had settled down, Don finally turned to Allie.

“That was amazing! You were amazing!”

Someone must’ve turned the big band music back on and turned the volume up because Don could barely hear what Allie was saying. All he could tell was that she was excited and had a huge smile on her face, his smile mirrored hers. He shook his head, raising his voice,

“What?”

She tried repeating herself, but between the music and the crowd they were stuck in the middle of, neither could hear each other. Allie huffs after another failed attempt and grabs Don by the hand. Dragging Don behind her, much like a lost puppy, Allie makes her way outside where it is quieter. Once they make it outside and she doesn't feel the need to yell, Allie turns to Don,

“Geez, It’s too loud in there after all that. I have been trying to say that your performance was amazing and you’re amazing! Where did you learn to play?”

“I’ve been playing since I was little,” Don shrugs, a smile still stuck on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. That was a lot of fun, but uh don’t tell Bobby I said that. He’ll be dragging me up on stage at every party.”

Allie laughs, “I promise I won’t tell Bobby.”

A few beats of silence fall between them as they just take each other in. An idea spurs in Don’s head. The music from inside can be heard softly from their spot on the top landing of the steps just outside the doors.

“Do you want to dance? It’s too loud in there, but it’s not so bad out here.”

Allie nods eagerly, “I’d love to.”

Softly taking her hand in his, Don gently pulls Allie in towards him. Swaying gently to the music, neither of them breaks their comfortable silence for a few moments. Resting her head on his collar, the pair are closer than ever. Ignoring the fuzzy feeling in her stomach, Allie is the first to speak up. “You did really great today, Don. You and the whole crew. I have a good feeling about this year.”

“Thank you, today felt good. It was fun,” Don replies. “It felt nice to have someone there cheering me on too. I’d win every race if it meant you were at the finish line.”

“Well,” Allie smiles bashfully, looking up at Don, “Don’t go around telling the crew I have a favorite. They’ll all get jealous.”

Don chuckles, “I won’t tell.”

Even in the dim lighting, the two are fighting off a blush, hoping the other won't see. To distract them both, Don steps back and raises his arm, letting Allie twirl in place a few times. Her soft giggle fills his ears as her dress flares slightly, making Don smile. His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s saying it to himself,

“You look beautiful.” A beat passes. “You always do.”

Allie’s breath gets caught in her throat, as Don pulls her back to him. Her voice is equally as quiet when she looks up at him and replies,

“Thank you.” Allie hesitates after finishing her sentence, trying to find the courage for her next words. “Don, I-“

She can barely get Don’s name out before a familiar voice rings out,

“Hey, lovebirds! Might want to come back inside, they just brought out a cake with all our names on it!”

Huffing at Bobby’s rude interruption, Allie steps away from Don slightly, who rolls his eyes at the coxswain. He wants to pull Allie back to him as she steps away. He keeps their hands connected, but his eyebrows are furrowed, “You were saying?”

Allie shakes her head, smiling softly, “It can wait, let’s get inside.”

…

Eeekkk! I couldn't decide if things were going to go further, but I'm feeling a slow burn for this one. More chapters to come!

#don hume #boys in the boat #don hume x oc #don hume x original character #don x alllie #jack mulhern #don hume x reader

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jazzzzzzhands · 9 months

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Ok FOR REAL Theory Time!!! Gonna be massive spoilers plus mention of bugs/fungus! So I'm calling this the Mold Theory And what is the Mold? It's the black stuff under Home! (Mold under a house is very suiting, right?) The Mold has contaminated Every single thing that the Restoration team has found! The team talks about the envelopes, the antiques, and the artwork found for Welcome Home and how it is alwasys Wet and covered in Grime. The stuff that is "Growing" all over the found items... Staff must wear gloves or they will get covered in it

You can see it all over the gloves, the Walls, and even the Website Itself! It's also been shown on the restored art prior to the update. But one unfortunate person seems to have touched it. and that is.. The Question Answerer! (The head person of the Restoration team is also most likely infected) Now what this Mold does is, It seems to have an effect of the person's mental state. Causing them to see and hear things, as well as having lucid nightmares and an overwhelming urge to draw spirals. From the very moment of contact, it seems to have effect "When I Unwrapped the first letter, I felt it. I heard it. Open Open Open. I want it out, I'm Going to get it Out" Instant Hallucinations and Obsession! Now I'm going to be Comparing this Mold to a Real fungus called Cordyceps, or the Zombie-Ant Fungus. It is a fungus that can control BUGS (familar themes right?) and take over their minds, forcing them to act unnaturally and wander far in order to spread itself! ~Similarily~ this Mold can take control of the Host's mind as well. The "Spores" that it is trying to spread are the drawings of the spirals/eyes. And the more eyes are Drawn, the more Wally can SEE. Wally has made it truly apparent that he can see us through any rendition of his eyes. "I've seen you every time you've looked into my eyes" "I have more eyes than I did before, you know how to draw eyes You draw mine, many times. I know it is thanks to you, Neighbor.. That I can see.. but it is still.. I can't see" He is giving us instructions.. "You have work to do" -Giving us instrustions on how to draw an eye... "Please Open, Let me In" Now I find this last instruction very funny He doesn't say "Let me Out" No... He says "Let me IN" Into What? What are we Opening? Our doors?Our EYES? our Mind? our Heart?? I think that could be exactly it!!! Letting him.... into You!!! (The collective You) Isn't that Funny? A Funny little thought?! The Puppet becoming the Puppeteer! ooh hee hee hoo hoo I think I'm very clever about that! But there are so many themes of Strings/Control/Scripts That I simply couldn't help myself! Now does that mean I think Wally is Evil? Absolutely NOT I LOVE Wally, and hey, what's a bit of mind control between Neighbors? <333 I'll borrow a cup of sugar and you can borrow my sanity! That's what Neighbors are for! <3 Jokes aside, No I Do NOT think Wally is Evil!! No, he might become a Puppeteer over the Real world... (and It might be for good reason, to save his friends and himself) but he is still very much a Puppet himself. Literally and Figuratively, And the Real Mastermind behind the strings is... Home!

Afterall? Isn't that where the Mold is coming from? From Down Below? Below Home?

This image gives me BIG TIME Obediance vibes Reporting/Worship/Subjugation I very much see Wally as the Lure of a very big Angler Fish.. The bait, the perfect little puppet that has captured our hearts and led us by the hand into Welcome Home. Isn't that very much how it has gone in real life? (Oh I KNOW I got the Mold BAD!!! ahahaha) (I can't stop drawing himmm!!! :3c ) But this is where my rambling stops, Until Next Time! I will just say that: The Relationship between Home and Wally (And by extension, YOU) Is a Strange one for sure! And I cant wait to see it further! And Just one more extra note on this whole Fungus thing.. Did you know that the BIGGEST Organism on the entire Earth.. Is a Mushroom? It is because they are connected through their Roots... (Down Below) and Houses kinda are shaped like musrooms... I will Leave it at That! Ahahahaha!

#im very very normal about all of this!#lyinggg #mold theory #welcome home #wally darling #welcome home theory #i know i can be a bit sparadic i hope this all makes sense!!#i can go a bit off the wall sometimes!!#its hard for me to articulate what i want to say sometimes!#i swear its so much more in my brain!!#also i am really bad at typing #im going to look for mistakes but im sorry if i typo!#jazzisaspazz #long text post #shout out to my sister for putting this into my brain #maybe i will have more thoughts later!#i do have a bunch of random things written down #maybe i will make an “observations” post?#will u guys be interested??#please feel free to send me asks and theories of your own!#feel free to add on or to correct me!!#i mean u can also send me art request ...;w;#or to randomly tell me about how you also enjoy cereal on ur hot dogs.. no? just me? ok #i have a really nice art coming tmrw that im so so proud of....#saving it for tmw... cause its my birthday tmrw!!!#a gift for me! to post something that im really really happy with!!#oof oog i talk a lot in the tags #i'm talking to myself really #if you made it this far... you get ... a gift..#its an apple! 🍎

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secondbeatsongs · 7 months

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imagine an Observation Duty-type game, but there actually. aren't any anomalies. and if you sit through the full game doing nothing, the music will ramp up and you'll get multiple warning messages, but you'll still always win so long as you don't report anything. because there were never any anomalies to report in the first place

...but if you do try to report an anomaly, the second you do it, shit starts for real. you'll have walls changing texture, stuff falling from the ceiling, ghost intruders poking their heads through doors, the works.

it'll be immediate hard mode, ramping up to the point where the game is near-impossible, with sneaky anomalies along with very obvious ones, as well as some that the game will just simply refuse to fix, because fuck you that's why

and the streamers and the youtube gamers will suffer, and pull their hair out, and find themselves in an endless loop, never to truly feel the satisfaction of victory

because I don't think a single one of them could go the full length of a game without either imagining an anomaly where there isn't one, or getting desperate and guessing wildly out of anxiety and because they think it'll help

anyway I'd probably title it something like "Unobservant", because somewhere in the tutorial it'll have a guy full-on saying, "but don't worry! surely this house doesn't have any anomalies! >:3" and honestly, it's the gamers' own faults at that point if they choose not to believe him

#personal #sbs rambles #i'm on observation duty #observation duty #video games #go. steal this idea. make this game #but I expect a free steam code and a ''based on a tumblr post by secondbeatsongs'' in the credits #and maybe put mothman somewhere in the game #those are the only things I require

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buggee22 · 7 months

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sighs,,,the basketverse,,,

+ baseball habit cuz i though it also suited him

#i gotta stop making aus maybe #also gotta stop posting wips and finish smth fr #missing kuroko and slam dunk hours #habit #firebrand #the observer #noah maxwell #prebrand #evan myers #alex kralie #brian thomas #tribetwelve #tribe twelve #t12 #everymanhybrid #emh #marble hornets #slenderverse #basketverse

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boyfridged · 1 year

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You may have already mentioned this in some of your other metas, and I just missed it, so please ignore this if it's redundant.

Do you think Bruce is projecting onto Jason by pushing him as a Robin? Obviously, Jason wanted to be Robin and was excited about it, and Bruce let Jason do other things, but (if I'm not mistaken) before Tim came into play, solidifying the whole Batman needs a Robin/support to keep him upright, Bruce and Dick becoming Batman and Robin, in the beginning, was also sort of a coping mechanism.

I think there are a few examples of Bruce enabling this kind of mindset. Like in Gotham Knights #43–44 (sorry), every time Barbara brings up Jason's inner turmoil, Bruce refocuses on his ability as a Robin; similarly, when Jason finds out about Two-Face and his dad, he is hurt, and Bruce acknowledges that but then does the same thing, zeroing in on reassuring Jason that he made a mistake but is still a good Robin.

Like, Jason got it from Bruce, but he unintentionally encouraged that kind of thinking.

oh, i definitely think that bruce is projecting on jason and that it profoundly affected jay. and, while every single one of your observations is apt, i would add that what truly made it so tragic is that he projected his own worst traits on jason while being blind to the fact that jay already shared his best qualities.

tldr: bruce projects himself on jason in terms of grief (saying that jason needs vigilantism to work his grief through) and sees his own worst traits in jason (anger) but doesn't see his own best traits in jay (compassion, love, and sensitivity). ironically, jason does end up developing all of the (projected) worst characteristics of bruce (obsessiveness, and relentlessness in pursuit of the respective perceived idea of justice). this happens even though they were barely present in his early storylines, and only ever manifested when jason was scared or lost. later, they truly came to be because of his trauma relating to vigilantism.

and the long, long version, coming with panels and quotes: under the cut.

first i want to say that the following analysis focuses very specifically on bruce's mistakes, but i don't view the overall of jay's upbringing by bruce solely in these terms. from text it is also clear that bruce deeply loves and cares about jay, and that jay enjoys being robin. now that this is clear, let's get to particularities, and start with jay's origin story.

i truly never stop thinking about the significance of bruce meeting jay in the crime alley, the place of his parents' death. there's a lot to be said about it, but here the focus is, of course, on the fact that he sees a little boy, very much similar to himself, angry and hurt, in the same scenery that brought him so much grief. and jay in some ways does appear to be a mirror of bruce's own agonies, as well as a mirror of his own inclination for seeking justice; and somehow, bruce fixates on the first one, while almost completely dismissing the latter.

bruce looks at him and assumes that the remedy to jason's pain and anger is being robin; and he doesn't stop to think about it. (it has to be noted that there's also classism at play, classism that is mostly a result of writers' own beliefs – collins did state in a couple of interviews that that the motivation behind jason's background was to make his introduction into vigilantism seem less offensive, as jason has already been exposed to crime...)

i think, in this context, it's interesting to look at the two-face storyline even closer, and from the start too. in the beginning, bruce talks of jason's 'street' roots and assumes jay would go "down the same criminal road that took his father [willis] to an early death." he also talks of jason making a lot of progress. later, in batman #411, after jason learns that willis has been killed by two-face, bruce comments that jay "has never been like this...listless...almost pouting--"

this all, along with jay's cheerful and diligent behaviour from the previous issue builds an interesting picture for us: because we essentially learn that jay has been overall an unproblematic child. bruce, of course, attributes this "progress" to the training. however, for anyone else, the logical conclusion would be that jay's quick adjustment was simply a matter of finding himself in a safe and stable environment and receiving continuous support and attention from a parental figure. i find it rather questionable that jason's personality softened down because he had something to punch in the cave–– the more intuitive explanation is of course that he was angry and quick to fight when they first met because he couldn't afford anything else and because he was scared. but months later, in a loving home, he can allow himself to drop his guard; and his cocky attitude disappears until much later.

so the rather unsettling picture that we derive is that bruce is training jay to become a vigilante in order to "channel" his (nonvisible at this point) anger into something useful and just. and he clearly links this to his own trauma in batman #416 (that’s already starlin btw), in his conversation with dick, explaining why he took jay in: “he’s so full of anger and frustration… he reminds me of myself, just after my parents were killed.” bruce also mentions that soon after their first meeting, jason helped him and "handled himself well" in the fight, but he doesn't mention that jay has ran away from a crime "school" and intended to stop injustice on his own only because he was ignored.

the theme of bruce comparing jay to himself appears again in detective comics #574 (barr), where it is approached with a much more... critical look, thanks to leslie's presence and her skepticism of bruce's actions. after jason has suffered nearly fatal injuries at the hand of the mad hatter, bruce reminisces on his own trauma and motives. he tells leslie: "i didn't choose jason for my work. he was chosen by it...as i was chosen." leslie replies: "stop that! (...) you do this for yourself... you're still that little boy (...)" then, the conversation steers to the familiar ground and the topic of anger. in bruce's words, again: “i wanted to give jason an outlet for his rage…wanted him to expunge his anger and get on with his life…” and finishes "and instead, i may have killed him."

the recognition that bruce's projection on jason and involving him with his work might have fatal consequences is, as always, fast forgotten once jay wakes up and proclaims that he wants to continue his work as robin.

but to circle back, i think there's something else worth our attention, something deeply ironic, that is showcased in that issue: that bruce has no evidence for jay's "rage." when leslie talks of bruce's past, she recalls his tendencies to get into brutal fights at perceived injustice as early as in school; when bruce talks of jason, two pictures that are juxtaposed, are that of jason fighting as robin and jason... smiling, playing baseball.

so, in the early days of jason's training and work in the field, we see bruce talking of jason's anger a lot; but we barely see it.

that being said, jay is angry sometimes– and i think your observation about how bruce deals with it is incredibly interesting and accurate.

we first see jay truly and devastatingly angry in the two-face storyline. bruce focuses on jay's reaction as robin, which is, in fact, aggressive. but something that he barely addresses is that jason's first reaction is sleeping all day, and not beating anyone to a pulp; in fact, this vengeful instinct seems to arise only when he is put right in front of two-face. and his third instinct, once the rage (very quickly) dies down after the altercation with two-face, is crying, because bruce hid the truth about willis' death from him. jay, while crying, asks bruce: "you have taken me out into combat-- but you spare me this?" in response, bruce lectures jason about how grief inspires revenge, which is, again, deeply ironic, given that jay seeking out revenge seemed to be prompted and enabled solely by the role of robin. moreover, his question suggests that at this point he saw grief ("you spare me this") and fighting as two different things.

the final is, as you said, bruce focusing on making it into a lesson on vigilantism, or, in his own words, "tempering revenge into justice." personally, i think in this way bruce directs jason to bring his grief into the field as a powering force, something that he didn't necessarily have an own incentive to do. the flash of compartmentalisation between his ordinary life and being a sidekick that jay has shown by questioning bruce's decision is lost. emotions are now a robin thing, and they have an (informal) protocol, a moral code. and when jay is confronted with an emotionally exhausting case next – the garzonas case, i believe that the focus on "tempering revenge into justice" is exactly the problem– we don't see jay crying, we see him frantic about finding the solution. this, right there, is bruce's obsessiveness, that in my opinion, was developed in jay specifically as a result of how his engagement with vigilantism combines with his deep sensitivity.

and, needless to say, his sensitivity is all the same as that of bruce – they both can't stand looking at other people hurting, they both wear their hearts on their sleeve, caring way too much – the thing is, bruce never quite acknowledges how they are similar in this matter. instead, he focuses on his sparse bursts of anger, wanting to bring jason closure in his grief the only way he knows it – in a fight for a better world. so, as you said, he focuses on jason's ability as robin.

which just doesn't work for jason. at all. we know it from how his robin run comes to an end: in the first issue of a death in the family (batman #426) alfred informs: “i’ve come upon him, several times, looking at that battered old photograph of his mother and father, crying.” to that, bruce contends: “in other words, i may have started jason as robin before he had a chance to come to grips with his parents deaths.” he also tells jay that the field is not a place for someone who is hurting; a message that is the opposite of what he's been saying for years now, and something that i imagine was difficult for bruce to conceptualise, because then he would have to question his own unhealthy tendencies. it's a bit late to come to this realisation; bruce's self-projection that caused him to worry so much about jay's anger has already turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy that will fully manifest itself in utrh, when jason does the only thing he was taught to do with grief: try to channel it into justice.

#AHHH this took me so long for no reason at all. so sorry anon <3 #anyway. i'm obsessed with your observation regarding bruce's focus on robin in the two-face storyline #i've already briefly considered it but you made me go back and reread it #and i just stared at these panels of jason in bed all day for like good 5 minutes thinking. jesus christ. jesus christ #“you spare me *this*?” <- this line is making me feel SICK TO MY STOMACH.#so maybe bruce is right when he says that he made jason like this in tfz.#and jay is of course even more right when he says that he didn't make him. he raised him #also don't apologise for bringing in gotham knights #i actually talked about it some before because it is a very good illustration of bruce projecting on jay #<- i didn't include it here bc my post was getting insanely long.#anyway back on the topic. i think it's so deeply sad that jay genuinely has no idea #that this is what bruce thinks #i think he would be DEVASTATED if he knew the way bruce fixated on the idea of his anger #hm. normal now.#thank you so much for this ask. you can tell i was delighted to answer it <3 #i actually already had a draft about it when you sent it... but i'm sooo slow with editing my word vomit #outbox #jay.zip #jay.txt #dc #jason todd #core texts

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