Sweet dreams...

#| HHHH IM SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY |#| ic > crescent : can you feel the star's fear? |#tag later

As Dozer walked closer to the noise, his feet crunch on something under him... His vision clears up and if he looks down to see what he stepped on... It was a cookie, it’s face stuck in a pained expression. The humming got louder, along with a different noise- the crackle of flames, under and behind Dozer.

Dozer was in an oven, surrounded by baked cookies. The only thing stopping Dozer from leaving it was the huge metal door at the front of the oven... and that was suddenly opened.

The Witch herself peeked in.

ask-the-cookie-questers

When Stomy dreams that night, she finds herself in a strange place-a small quaint neighborhood with cobblestone roads. Beside her is a suitcase with what she knows has a few changes of clothes and a dagger she pretends to call "Sovereign". A car rolls up on the road, stopping in front of Stormy. A woman with long brown hair and red eyes, a too small crop top, and a very fake lips and nose steps out. "Stormy, dear! It's time for us to go. you'll love the new house, I'm sure." ((@the-moon-dreams))

[closed rp with @the-moon-dreams ]

Stormy turned quickly to the women. She shook in fear a bit. What was this? This couldn’t be real. How was she suddenly human again. Was this voice truly who it sounds to be?

Stormy: “w-what? What do you mean my new home? Who are you?!”

She didn’t wanna believe what she was seeing. She didn’t however have a threatening stance. She looked scared.

#| HHHH SORRY IM LATE |#| ic > crescent : can you feel the star's fear? |#tag later

“Stormy, darling, don’t you remember? Well they did say you had some memory problems after that terrible accident...” The woman kneeled down beside Stormy.

“I’m your new mother, and we’re going to leave that terrible house where that woman kept hurting you, alright? You’ll love your new home!” She gave Stormy a wide smile, her red eyes glowing bright for a spit second... She got up, getting back into the car.

“Come in dear, there’s snacks waiting for you in the backseat!”

Asking about the Goose Cookie because... Sigh there’s a thieving Goose Cookie on the loose.

“A thieving... OOHHH that cookie! I’m not going to give it a nightmare... yet. It spreads chaos. If anything, I’ll salute it.”

Whats up moon pies

Moonlight was in her bedroom, sleeping. She barely stirred at your question- she was out like a nightlight.

Milkyway was in an unfamiliar place. Swirls of pink and white and blue surrounded her, her hair mixing in with the space. She was swirling.. something in the air, smiling at something. She didn’t look up at you. “...The Dreamscape is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Full Moon is the first to see you. She’s resting in the same place as Milkyway- the Dreamscape- on a full moon high above a forest. You can see a mass of darkness in the distance, and a ball of pink and white and blue too. “I’m doing fine, just resting up. Did you need something?”

Crescent is in her ball of darkness in the Dreamscape, and like Milkyway, swirling red mist. She payed no mind to you, too invested in laughing cruelly at.. something to really care about you.

Bad cresent roll! -sprays the evil moonlight with a spray bottle of glittery water-

Crescent hisses at you from her place in the darkness.

Can you trap a Goose Cookie in a nightmare?

“Huh?” Crescent looked up from- somewhere... Darkness was surrounding her, and she was floating on something akin to a star cluster.

“Yeah... I can trap anyone in a nightmare. Need ‘em to sleep first though... then I can work my magic~! Hehehe...”

I noticed ask-the-cookie-quester tagged you in a post. This is bad! They are a very toxic person. You should stay clear of them at all cost!

((Hi anon. I’d like to see evidence of this. I’ve actually been in contact with the mun for a while now. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t send these kinds of asks- they’ve shown no toxic behaviors at all. So unless you have evidence, I’m going to say

Fuck off with your lying bullshit.))

Darkling would dream of red mist that night... shifting and swirling in the corners of his vision. It was pitch black all around him, folds of darkness hiding maniacal laughter in the distance... Shapes vaugley popped into his vision, of bottles and needles and guns. Sometimes they appeared long enough they looked like they could be held. The laughter in the distance seemed to be getting louder... ((@the-moon-dreams))

(( HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE ))

« @the-moon-dreams »

“ ...What the hell is this? ”

That was the first thought to come out of his mouth. This was most definitely a dream, he figured, because he remembered going to bed and suddenly coming to in this unfamiliar red fog. He looked around the pitch black darkness, at the shapes, even reaching out to grab one of the guns only for it to vanish in his hand.

Darkling dared not to take a step further. With all this, and that creepy laughter soundtrack in the background, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to lay traps or something within the first five strides. Even so, he was curious...

{ Previous }

He growled at her again as the scenery changed into the abandoned ballroom. It reminded him of a place a few blocks away to a certain hostess’s manor, left to rot and be consumed by vines and dust mites.

“ I fear none of that because I grew up with it. Drugs and murder are like the oxygen in the air there. ”

Darkling quickly stands and flips it, twirling Crescent around and dipping her this time, his gaze burning holes into her skull.

“ A shame you can’t experience such atrocities naturally...That’s why you have to make your own chaos, here, in this world where the heroes claim glory for defeating sad witches like you. ”

Crescent grins as she's suddenly dipped, staring right back at Darkling with the same burning gaze he was giving her. She wasnt afraid of him- She was born from darkness and fear. He was nothing.

"Truley it is... But no one's yet to defeat me. Perhaps you will be the first~?"

She stands, forcing Darkling's hands on her hips and in her hand as off-key music begins to play. She leads him in a waltz, keeping a firm grip on his hand and shoulder, forcing him into the steps when she needs to.

cookie-dreamer-of-darkness

[Promo Post]

[Hello everyone! Guess who's back? :o)]

[Don't shout at me I deleted some of my old blogs so I have all the rights to make some again-]

[This is a blog about a version of Dozer, who I mostly used in ny guild server, but I decided to give him his own blog!]

[Please promo and for now, I'll not respond as quickly because as I finish this I'll most likely be in class again but here we go! Ask and promo away!]

[Thank you in advance!]

[I'll decide not to tag blogs Because I'm awkward as fuc]

#| promo: another dreamer? |

longingpeppermintsong

[ “Hello there. May I have a promo?” ]

Darkling would dream of red mist that night... shifting and swirling in the corners of his vision. It was pitch black all around him, folds of darkness hiding maniacal laughter in the distance... Shapes vaugley popped into his vision, of bottles and needles and guns. Sometimes they appeared long enough they looked like they could be held. The laughter in the distance seemed to be getting louder... ((@the-moon-dreams))

(( HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE ))

« @the-moon-dreams »

“ ...What the hell is this? ”

That was the first thought to come out of his mouth. This was most definitely a dream, he figured, because he remembered going to bed and suddenly coming to in this unfamiliar red fog. He looked around the pitch black darkness, at the shapes, even reaching out to grab one of the guns only for it to vanish in his hand.

Darkling dared not to take a step further. With all this, and that creepy laughter soundtrack in the background, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to lay traps or something within the first five strides. Even so, he was curious...

{ Previous }

He burst out into the street, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. But his relief was short lived — even outside felt too enclosed, somehow, and that pestering feeling of dread didn’t go away.

“ Shut up... ”

He growled, breathing a little harder than normal, at the figure up on the red moon. Everything felt too hot suddenly from being in that death trap.

“ Why the hell are you here... ”

Where the head of the figure was, a face appeared- two sharp, pure red eyes and a grin with too many jagged sharp teeth, all glowing red.

A tap was felt on his shoulder, and behind him... was none other than the Crescent Moon. "You're not of this world." Her smile was too wide, and she ran a clawed finger on his neck.

"You're... new." She purred, surveying him.

Darkling whirled around at the tap. The clawed finger feeling him up made him shiver unpleasantly, but he swatted her hand away and stepped back with a piercing glare.

“ What’s your point? ”

He hissed through clenched teeth, still a little tense from earlier. Not to mention the scenery of this nightmare was still off-putting.

“ I didn’t ask to be cherry-picked from my world and put here in this land of sunshine and rainbows. ”

Her wide smile stayed, even as he bat her hand away. She moved her hand to her side, and brought the blade of her scythe that wasn't there before to run along his neck instead, drawing the tiniest sliver of blood.

"It's a downright shame you've to leave, handome... the blood, the pain, the fear in your world must be amazing. So much to exploit~! But you don't fear it... not as much as a small room, anyway.

"It would've been so fun to break you... crack through that demeanor of yours, make you fear everyday... But it's almost time isn't it, handsome?"

She pulls away. Her sytche dissapearing, and she roughly takes his wrists and dips him. They're no longer outside, instead in a broken down version of a ball room. Streamers and ribbons are torn, popped balloons strewn on the floor. The pillars are broken down and the tiled floor is scratched and filthy.

"So why dont we make the most of it~?"

Darkling would dream of red mist that night... shifting and swirling in the corners of his vision. It was pitch black all around him, folds of darkness hiding maniacal laughter in the distance... Shapes vaugley popped into his vision, of bottles and needles and guns. Sometimes they appeared long enough they looked like they could be held. The laughter in the distance seemed to be getting louder... ((@the-moon-dreams))

(( HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE ))

« @the-moon-dreams »

“ ...What the hell is this? ”

That was the first thought to come out of his mouth. This was most definitely a dream, he figured, because he remembered going to bed and suddenly coming to in this unfamiliar red fog. He looked around the pitch black darkness, at the shapes, even reaching out to grab one of the guns only for it to vanish in his hand.

Darkling dared not to take a step further. With all this, and that creepy laughter soundtrack in the background, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to lay traps or something within the first five strides. Even so, he was curious...

{ Previous }

He burst out into the street, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. But his relief was short lived — even outside felt too enclosed, somehow, and that pestering feeling of dread didn’t go away.

“ Shut up... ”

He growled, breathing a little harder than normal, at the figure up on the red moon. Everything felt too hot suddenly from being in that death trap.

“ Why the hell are you here... ”

Where the head of the figure was, a face appeared- two sharp, pure red eyes and a grin with too many jagged sharp teeth, all glowing red.

A tap was felt on his shoulder, and behind him... was none other than the Crescent Moon. "You're not of this world." Her smile was too wide, and she ran a clawed finger on his neck.

"You're... new." She purred, surveying him.

Darkling would dream of red mist that night... shifting and swirling in the corners of his vision. It was pitch black all around him, folds of darkness hiding maniacal laughter in the distance... Shapes vaugley popped into his vision, of bottles and needles and guns. Sometimes they appeared long enough they looked like they could be held. The laughter in the distance seemed to be getting louder... ((@the-moon-dreams))

(( HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE ))

« @the-moon-dreams »

“ ...What the hell is this? ”

That was the first thought to come out of his mouth. This was most definitely a dream, he figured, because he remembered going to bed and suddenly coming to in this unfamiliar red fog. He looked around the pitch black darkness, at the shapes, even reaching out to grab one of the guns only for it to vanish in his hand.

Darkling dared not to take a step further. With all this, and that creepy laughter soundtrack in the background, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to lay traps or something within the first five strides. Even so, he was curious...

The laughter suddenly jumped in volume, a cacophony crashing in his ears. It was loud, ringing, enough go drive him to his knees, pain shooting through him...

And it suddenly stopped- not a single noise could be heard. In the blink of an eye, he was at the entrance to his bar, a single patron at the bar. They had their head in their arms, their unidentifiable hair draped over them- and at this finger tips, a glass knocked over, alcohol spilling out.

They didnt look to be breathing at all.

He cringed at the laughter, pressing his palms to his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound, to no avail. Darkling suffered through it, finding it oddly amusing in hindsight.

Then he found himself at his bar.

Suspicious, he thought. Suspicious but strikingly familiar. He’s seen this scenario a hundred times in the past before, in different variations, but it was similar nonetheless. He wondered what poison he would have slipped in that glass...

Darkling entered his bar and walked up to the seemingly-unconscious patron, checking their pulse.

The patron's pulse felt strong, but it was fast... too fast. With each pulse, the skin seemed to jump under Sparkling's fingertips, until... it stopped. The patron gave a final sigh and they were dead.

The lights flickered over the body once, and it was gone- along with the chairs and bar counter. Only Darkling's breathing could be heard. Again the lights flickered and the tables and bar decorations were gone too- along with the windows, but not the door.

"You're scaaaared~" a voice called out, and the lights went out for a second, and when they came on again, the bar felt... smaller. Again and again the lights went out, coming back on again to show an increasingly smaller bar. The door, wherever it was, began to look far away, too far away, unreachable almost... But Darkling could very well try to reach it.

When the life left the stranger, Darkling felt no remorse.

He just stared at the corpse until the lights began going on and off. The body disappeared. He blinked, then turned around to head back out, only for the lights to go out again.

After they came back on, he noticed the walls had scooted closer to each other. Off, on. The room shrunk again, and soon began to engulf him way too quickly for his comfort. He realized then what was going on.

“ Oh. ”

For the first time in a while, he felt his blood beginning to rush — and not in the way it did when he secured a victim. This was a bad kind of rush. This was the beginning of fear.

It’s only a nightmare, he tried to reassure himself, none of this is real, this is the doing of the disembodied voice. But with the bar walls threatening to crush him like a four-way hydraulic press, he found his adrenaline working quicker than his common sense could, and he sprinted for the door.

It was easier to reach it looked- the bar behind him was shrinking into nothing, and his strides carried him to the door easily. It swung open, leading him out to the dim street, and something brushed over his head.

The sky looked, felt too low. The horizon was too close, a red crescent moon rising. Running in either direction led him to the same place- in front of the bar again. The world was a small place, and whoever was pulling the strings really loved to show it off.

The sickening cackle began to play again, a figure standing up on the moon. "What's wrong, little bartender... claustrophobia~?"

Darkling would dream of red mist that night... shifting and swirling in the corners of his vision. It was pitch black all around him, folds of darkness hiding maniacal laughter in the distance... Shapes vaugley popped into his vision, of bottles and needles and guns. Sometimes they appeared long enough they looked like they could be held. The laughter in the distance seemed to be getting louder... ((@the-moon-dreams))

(( HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE ))

« @the-moon-dreams »

“ ...What the hell is this? ”

That was the first thought to come out of his mouth. This was most definitely a dream, he figured, because he remembered going to bed and suddenly coming to in this unfamiliar red fog. He looked around the pitch black darkness, at the shapes, even reaching out to grab one of the guns only for it to vanish in his hand.

Darkling dared not to take a step further. With all this, and that creepy laughter soundtrack in the background, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to lay traps or something within the first five strides. Even so, he was curious...

The laughter suddenly jumped in volume, a cacophony crashing in his ears. It was loud, ringing, enough go drive him to his knees, pain shooting through him...

And it suddenly stopped- not a single noise could be heard. In the blink of an eye, he was at the entrance to his bar, a single patron at the bar. They had their head in their arms, their unidentifiable hair draped over them- and at this finger tips, a glass knocked over, alcohol spilling out.

They didnt look to be breathing at all.

He cringed at the laughter, pressing his palms to his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound, to no avail. Darkling suffered through it, finding it oddly amusing in hindsight.

Then he found himself at his bar.

Suspicious, he thought. Suspicious but strikingly familiar. He’s seen this scenario a hundred times in the past before, in different variations, but it was similar nonetheless. He wondered what poison he would have slipped in that glass...

Darkling entered his bar and walked up to the seemingly-unconscious patron, checking their pulse.

The patron's pulse felt strong, but it was fast... too fast. With each pulse, the skin seemed to jump under Sparkling's fingertips, until... it stopped. The patron gave a final sigh and they were dead.

The lights flickered over the body once, and it was gone- along with the chairs and bar counter. Only Darkling's breathing could be heard. Again the lights flickered and the tables and bar decorations were gone too- along with the windows, but not the door.

"You're scaaaared~" a voice called out, and the lights went out for a second, and when they came on again, the bar felt... smaller. Again and again the lights went out, coming back on again to show an increasingly smaller bar. The door, wherever it was, began to look far away, too far away, unreachable almost... But Darkling could very well try to reach it.

Darkling would dream of red mist that night... shifting and swirling in the corners of his vision. It was pitch black all around him, folds of darkness hiding maniacal laughter in the distance... Shapes vaugley popped into his vision, of bottles and needles and guns. Sometimes they appeared long enough they looked like they could be held. The laughter in the distance seemed to be getting louder... ((@the-moon-dreams))

(( HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE ))

« @the-moon-dreams »

“ ...What the hell is this? ”

That was the first thought to come out of his mouth. This was most definitely a dream, he figured, because he remembered going to bed and suddenly coming to in this unfamiliar red fog. He looked around the pitch black darkness, at the shapes, even reaching out to grab one of the guns only for it to vanish in his hand.

Darkling dared not to take a step further. With all this, and that creepy laughter soundtrack in the background, he wouldn’t put it past his own mind to lay traps or something within the first five strides. Even so, he was curious...

The laughter suddenly jumped in volume, a cacophony crashing in his ears. It was loud, ringing, enough go drive him to his knees, pain shooting through him...

And it suddenly stopped- not a single noise could be heard. In the blink of an eye, he was at the entrance to his bar, a single patron at the bar. They had their head in their arms, their unidentifiable hair draped over them- and at this finger tips, a glass knocked over, alcohol spilling out.

They didnt look to be breathing at all.