sorry for radio silence, but iwas cooking
Nightmare is always seen writing. He is always perfect and in pristine control. Nothing seems to ever come out of it, as despite him going through stacks and stacks of paper, bottles of ink, and many, many quills. (He refuses to write with a pen.)
What is he writing? Apologies to dream. Raging anger and annoyances. His emotions. All of them, catolouged in neat lines.
Where do the papers go? Tinder. For fires.
I wonder what would happen if one of his subordinates found one of these papers?
Right back at ya for the radio silence, I was finishing up some life stuff. Buuuuuut I should be good now to go through the rest of your delightful asks!(Again thank you so much for sending them, they fuel meeeeee)
It's certainly an interesting idea! That writing letters would be an emotional out for him.
These letters have a large range in terms of conscious thought, from quietly written declarations of future plans of attack to rage-filled cursive fueled by the failure of another mission gone awry.
In those moments of rage where rational thought flies through the window, Nightmare releases all his accusations and hatred for his brother. A deep need for vengeance of ruining is well constructed plans before seeping into something more personal and ingrained in Nightmare's being. Accusations of all of Dreams wrongdoings, his neglect of him as a brother and his bias towards the villagers.
'My life would have been better without you', ' My life would have been better if you weren't my brother'.
Behind that deep need for vengeance lay sorrow, especially on those days where Nightmare would notice just a split second of hesitation from Dream, and narrowly missing an arrow. Written pages upon pages, some notes being directly to Dream, bargaining, some even pleading. Days like that spilled the voice from the back of his mind, providing hopes and dreams of things impossible.
'He still loves us', 'We were both just children'..
Yet the darkness in the back of his head spoke just as loud, if not more so.
"Not After You Killed Mother"
And off the letter went to the fire.
Though the letters usually came and went not long after being written, there were times where Nightmare simply did not have the time nor the patience to set the fire and so some letters were granted time before they would once again return to ash.
On a day where Nightmare had other worldly errands to do, the trio was assigned some minor tasks to accomplish while their leader was away. Mainly diplomatic in nature the three required Nightmare's handy dandy notes on their ever growing array of worlds that was in agreement with them.
With a lousy yet firm kick to Nightmare's office Killer yelled out to the others.
"Yeah, yeah! I hear ya. Just give me a goddamn second to get these stupid fuckin papers. Lord knows I don't wanna another Au get pissy with us for forgetting whatever the hell we agreed upon last time."
The skeleton started rummaging through drawers, searching half-haphazardly for the info. Before he stumbled upon a usually empty drawer with a small neat stack of handwritten papers.
"Jackpot." Killer grinned.
His eyes skimmed the first page for him to be certain of the contents.
'The day you die will be the first day I feel genuine joy in the past 500 years.'
Definitely not AU trading information, but information on the boss, and clearly this was something personal. Killer instinctively knew he shouldn't read further, rules had never stopped him and they certainly wouldn't now. Additionally, learning something new about the boss was rare, and any information usually gained wasn't anything important and could just be deduced by living in his manor. But feelings, personal, true, handwritten feelings, now that was something juicy. Say curiosity killed the cat but Killer's self-preservation instinct had never been his greatest quality.
Onward went Killer's eyes drifting through pages upon pages of letters, most written in Nightmare's prim and proper handwriting.
'You've ruined me', ' You've forsaken me for the last time', 'Why did things have to change?', 'Can't things go back to how they used to be?'
Killer's fingers flicked through the pages, a knowing grin widening on his face.
What do y'know, the boss has feelings too.
Each one of their group had their fair own share of regrets, things they wished they could have changed. Reminiscing caused its own fair share of realizations, the idea that Nightmare had his own regrets brought...a sort of comfort, a warm relief. The letters certainly kicked Nightmare down a peg, but at the same time brought everyone down to the same level. The same level of failure and uncertainty.
Killer neatly organized the letters and placed them back into the drawer, lest he be found out for snooping, even if it was accidentally. He rummaged through Nightmare's main desk and found the needed documents. With quick steps towards the exit, Killer gently closed the door.
All of them had their own fair share of goods, however unlike the rest of them Nightmare's regrets could be possibly mended. Many regrets can never be taken back, so if Nightmare made the choice to do so, Killer won't hesitate to assist him on his conquest.
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
romaincrisis
ellievsbear
