— supernova (2019)
— supernova (2019)
My grandma ate a leaf. Just straight up picked it off the sidewalk and chomped it down. I was about four and to this date it is the worst nightmare I have ever had.
The finale of Comfort a Little Dream! Thank you to have followed!
This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.
They never agreed, bickering all the time over nothing. Often because of Killer, who was always trying to test him, to see if Color really loved him or was going to abandon him. And Color, although he was tender and understanding at first, had had enough, couldn’t stand it when people questioned his love for him.
Bickering had become bickering, real bickering. Killer tested his limits more and more, could sometimes make terribly hurtful remarks and, touched in his pride, Color retaliated harshly, hurting back the one he loved.
Wasn’t that a laughable situation? But it was undoubtedly what proved the honesty of their love. For despite their many conflicts, they were still crazy about each other…
So when Killer finally left him, Color saw his world come crashing down. He didn’t try to hold him back, he didn’t want to force him into anything, he simply believed that their love had no place in the end.
However, no matter what he did to forget him, Killer never left his mind, never, and Color had to assume a terrible truth: loving him was his destiny. If it hurt so much to part with him, it was probably because their souls were connected, as they always had been and always would be.
[ CHUCKLES ]
He didn’t think he could love someone that much, or even that you could love them that much. Plum had become so used to being hated, rejected, accepted only for his body and nothing else, treated like a little whore, an object that you take, use and throw away, that you don’t even bother to wash and care for. An object that is useful, but that one hates. An object that we soon replace when we find it more useful.
He hated himself and he hated the world in which he was born. He hated the monsters who took advantage of his body and hated life, fate, which seemed to mock him every minute of his life. He had so many times wanted to die, to disappear, to give himself up to the easy way out and forget his worries. But he had responsibilities, he had his brother, he had …
He had this unbearable fear of dying. And this crazy hope to live, to REALLY live.
When Nightmare blackmailed him, forced him to join the bad guys, he saw this as a new cruelty of life, the fulfillment of his hopes and dreams. But if the first times had been difficult, he had been surprised - what am I saying? - the amazement of finding skeletons similar to him. Not because they were Sans, but because they all had a very special relationship with destiny.
Fate had bent on them, destroyed them.
And finally, their small group of psychopathic killers had taken a different turn. A softer, more complicit, compassionate turn.
They had become a family. And if Plum had been able to fit into that family so well, it was definitely thanks to Horror. Horror who had intrigued him at first sight, who had surprised him with his delicious and ever more elaborate dishes. Horror who could prove to be terribly wise and patient. And Plum, at each of his laughs, had fallen a little more in love with him without realizing it.
When they had sex the first time, the purple skeleton thought he would burst into tears, terrified that the cannibal had used him and would abandon him. But Horror had never left. On the contrary: he had pampered him, pampered him, won him over with his words and his caresses.
He had always been there, with his big smile and little mockery, but also his ridiculous nicknames and his desire to kiss him, to always be one with him.
[DOES NOT ABANDON ME]
Cross had teleported to Ink to support him. Unfortunately, the Creator was only a little stunned and had no trouble getting up again. But if he went back into battle, the swordsman preferred to stay behind. By fear? Yes. Out of fear that Dream’s soul - which he still had in his possession - would be hurt. And it is this same fear, this apprehension, that suddenly pushed him to open a portal to go to another UA.
Plum was biting his nails in anguish, alone on his couch, impatiently awaiting the return of his lover and hoping that nothing would happen to him.
Color was in his own universe, slumped in a field of echoing flowers, watching the sky and thinking about Killer, what he would have to do to get him back.
Neither of them had expected such a situation.
Neither of them would have thought they would see a gate suddenly open, followed by a skeletal hand that came and grabbed them forcefully to pull them into another AU. And what was their surprise when they landed in the middle of the forest, confused and stunned, to find themselves in front of a livid Cross.
“What is … ?” said Color while standing up.
But the swordsman left them no time at all:
“There’s a portal to the West, we have to help Dust! I don’t have time !”
He teleported again, disappearing in the eyes of the two skeletons who definitely didn’t understand the situation, until Plum realized that - Shit - the ritual had gone wrong!
He got up in panic and rushed to the gate, dragging Color after him as a ball formed in the hollow of his throat.
- Their hands became clammy, their strength diminished, and the sword of Damocles hovering above them seemed eager to strike at their skulls. –
Horror was in danger. HIS Horror was in danger.
- And he fell down, dry and mercilessly. –
- Dust dropped them both. -
They came to the gate, saw a body over halfway through. Dust’s body was shaking on all sides, as if caught in a convulsion and jolt.
Terror took hold of both skeletons.
[ EMPTY ]
Killer fell. He saw the world turn, he saw Dust’s gaze, he saw himself moving away, sinking, falling. But he felt nothing. He heard nothing. Nothing, except the high-pitched whistling of the wind in his ear canals.
A second state. A semi-consciousness. Silence.
He should never have left Color. He should have stayed by his side, believed in him, in them, in their bond. He should have been honest, explain his apprehension, his fear of abandonment and change. He should have told him that he loved him, he should have told him so many times.
He loved Color. Hadn’t he told Dust? Yes, he did.
He loved Color with all his fucking, fucking madness.
And he closed his eyes bathed in tears, his soul heavy with regret, silent sobs.
The shock was imminent.
[ CRACK ]
It was a heavy noise. The sound of a body hitting the ground. The sound of someone hitting the ground hard.
A noise … which had been preceded by a teleportation.
The sound of Killer and Color as they teleported behind Dust.
The skeleton of dust turned sharply, eyes wide open, throat dry, and face ravaged by terror and sadness, only to stumble upon a sight he had not expected. No … No, he was not expecting to see Color and Plum. To tell the truth … NO ONE expected to see those two teleporting, receiving their companions to teleport back to safety.
Horror was stunned, just like Killer who didn’t understand the situation, who didn’t know if they were still alive or not.
The cannibal blamed the masterful slap he took, this time having this time beautiful and well the proof that he was alive … and his wide-eyed eyes turned to Plum, his adorable Plum who was crying with anguish and relief mixed together:
“I told you I had to come with you, you moron ! Asshole ! You fucking … !”
He emptied his bag, the terror that he had accumulated in a fraction of a second, but Horror didn’t let him say any more - to tell the truth he had barely listened to his cries - and grabbed his face with force, to come and kiss him, devouring his mouth and sobbing in turn. He never thought he would be so happy to be alive.
Plum did not struggle, quite the contrary. Too happy to be reunited with his beloved, he clung to him with all his strength, responding to his kiss with all the passion and love he had inside him, as if he was afraid that Horror would disappear and kill himself for good this time.
Next to them, Color was trembling. He held Killer without daring to overdo it, without daring to make inappropriate gestures in spite of the anguish he had felt when he saw him fall into the void. If he hadn’t intervened, if he hadn’t been there, if Cross hadn’t come looking for him … Killer … Killer would definitely have killed himself.
“Color, I …” began the madman, before stopping at the sight of the tears that were beading in the eyes of the colored one.
Color let a poor sob escape, brought Killer a little closer to come and bury his face in his neck:
“Damn, shit, Killer … goddamn Killer … I love you … I love you … I love you so much … I’m sorry, I love you … I love you … I love you I love you, I love you … !” he murmured nervously, his soul trembling, struggling not to burst into tears despite the emotion.
Killer remained mute, blushing violently despite the situation. Moved, he came to respond feverishly to the embrace, not quite recovered from his near-death experience.
“No… C-Color, it’s me, it’s all my fault … Sorry … I love you so, so much …”
The colored one raised his eyes, plunged his gaze into his own, before coming to fetch his mouth in a clumsy but terribly tender kiss, to which Killer took pleasure in responding.
But a sob interrupted the two couples. Killer and Horror froze, simultaneously turning their heads towards Dust. Dust was cracking, really cracking.
“I let go… I’m sorry, I let go…”
He took his skull in his hands and finally began to cry with fear and guilt as the pressure dropped heavily. His two best friends almost cried again, but held on to rush to him and take him in their arms.
They were alive, that was the most important thing.
They were alive. All three of them alive.
Cross had a poor laugh accompanied by a bitter smile, a downcast look. He raised his head feverishly, without daring to look at Nightmare or Dream.
He made the little soul appear to be throbbing, and gently held it out in front of him.
Shattered had a broad smile. His tentacles sped faster than the wind, violently grasping the soul they brought back to him.
And Dream couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. Because even though it had saved his brother’s life, even though he was happy that Nightmare had survived, he was forced to see the cruel truth, the truth that he had wanted to bury forever.
He was inferior to Nightmare in all areas. It didn’t matter the fine words of their friends, of Cross … Nightmare was the favorite. The most beloved. Nightmare … was more important than him.
Dream would have wanted to smile, to be strong, to tell his twin that it didn’t matter that it was better this way. But he couldn’t even do that. Unable to contain his tears, his sobs, his terror and his apprehension.
He could only be Dream, the frail guardian of good emotions. Dream, the one who clung to his brother, looking for comfort. Dream, who had been unable to protect his best friend or to honor this stupid ritual.
[He was just a weak, stupid moron]
“Owwwwwn, you two are so adorable!” Shattered ecstatic with the crazy smile he never left, playing mischievously with the soul he held between his fingers.
The ellipse was coming to an end, everything was going to end like this. And Shattered shuddered with joy as he watched the inverted heart he held in his palm:
“Dream, Dream, Dream … you are so pathetic, so weak in the face of corruption! Your soul is only a reflection of your personality: bland and tasteless. So fragile that it has lost its colors, its flamboyant gold, to give way to this grey, so dirty, so sad. Ah … HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHH! “
Dream clung a little more to his brother by closing his eyes. And if Nightmare tightens its grip around him, Cross’s weak voice rose:
“Nightmare … is it really too late?”
The acerbic tone of the nightmare master answered him:
“By your fault, yes! If you had returned his soul to Dream, he would have been saved! We had completed the ritual, the ground was prepared, the surrounding magic could heal him! But now the other bastard has his soul! There is no more possibility to do anything!”
The words were hard, so hard … But did not destabilize Cross, far from it. Cross slowly got up and walked towards the twins.
“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” Nightmare screamed Nightmare, mad with rage, ready to strike the swordsman despite his weakness.
Except that Dream held him back, raising his tear-filled face in his direction :
“Night, no… i-he did this for you, to save you…”
But Nightmare, with tears in his eyes, could only shake his head:
“I don’t care! He has condemned you!
- Night… please…”
The master of misfortune clenched his teeth, his throat tied, and had to use violence to let Cross kneel beside them. Cross who looked sadly at his boss, hoping to meet his gaze, but had to give up and finally look at the guardian of dreams:
“… Dream … I’m sorry for everything … I never meant you any harm … I only wanted … to be like you, to follow your example. Bring happiness to others …”
Dream lowered his eyes sniffing, unable to respond.
But Cross’s words made him shudder:
“… Take care of Nightmare for me …”
He looked up at the swordsman, imitated by Nightmare, neither twin understanding his words … until Cross made a soul appear. A beautiful golden soul.
The world froze, Shattered petrified.
He looked at the soul that he himself held in the palm of his hand.
A grey soul. A golden soul.
[Cross had not given him the right soul]
He threw himself towards the trio, appendages drawn, the atmosphere twisting under the anger he released.
But it was too late: Cross struck Dream’s torso, inserted his soul in a guilty smile.
The magic imploded, a ray of lightning struck the sky and fell to earth to strike Dream head on. Nightmare, Cross and Shattered found themselves thrown backwards, too weak in the face of the power released. A magic that flooded the entire UA with powerful waves of heat and sweetness.
Nightmare was forced to close his eyes, trying to shield himself from the light with his arms. This is why he did not see Cross come between him and the rays, so that the master of misfortune would not be disintegrated by the powerful light.
This same light came to engulf Error, whose face was buried in the neck of his lover, hugging him with all his strength despite the body which was leaving in dust … before the dust regroups again, that it reformed the missing parts of the wounded body.
The multiverse ellipse. A moment when opposites become one, when negativity and positivity blend in perfect equilibrium, to restart the cycle of the worlds from scratch].
[Nightmares and Dreams]
[Destruction and Creation]
[Among other things …]
The light stopped. Calm returned as the ellipse finally ceased and the sky took on a magnificent bluish hue.
Shattered stood up, sounded, trembling. He scanned the landscape with his eyes to fall on Dream … who was standing, eyes closed, as if in a trance.
Dream blinked, revealing his pretty yellow pupils that had regained a soft glow. Dream … which seemed free of a weight, which seemed light, peaceful, happy.
The ritual had worked.
[Shattered had lost]
[And all because of … of …]
He threw Cross’s soul to the ground, kicking it violently, making his owner scream, who collapsed in pain, before being received in-extremist by Nightmare. Nightmare, who felt guilty for having doubted the swordsman, who felt a deaf anger invade him while he was still devoid of magic, and thus unable to recover the soul of the monochrome.
“CROSS ASSHOLE!” Shattered shouted Shattered, who disengaged his appendages before attacking the trembling soul, ready to finish him off.
But an arrow pulverized his tentacles, caused him to scream in pain and retreat. He raised his head, to become completely livid.
Dream was in a fighting position, bow in hand, holding a shattered yoke without mercy. And if the broken Dream wondered how his double had been able to retrieve a bow, he was even more pale when he saw Ink and Error at his side, understanding with terror that the Creator - in addition to being fine - had regained full control of his powers to the point of being able to create a bow for Dream.
“You lost Shattered.” scolded the guard, arched arches.
To affirm his claims, Error disengaged his sons and recovered Cross’s soul, taking him away from Shattered, who found himself truly destitute, disarmed and without the slightest possibility of blackmail.
[He had always been alone]
“It’s not fair …”
[ Alone against the world ]
“It’s not fair … !”
In spite of his good attentions, his sacrifices] [In spite of his good attentions, his sacrifices ]
“Why … ?”
[ Shattered tears ]
“WHY DOES EVERYONE SUPPORT YOU? WHY DO THEY CONTINUE TO LOVE YOU?! WHY AM I THE VILLAIN OF THE STORY?!”
Dream hoqueta, destabilized. Destabilized in front of his double who fell to his knees crying, who hid his face in his hands trembling all over, shouting insults to the whole world.
[HE WANTED TO HELP EVERYONE]
[HE WANTED TO HELP HIS BROTHER]
[HE HAD ALLOWED HIMSELF TO BE CORRUPTED FOR HIS BROTHER’S SAKE]
[AND HIS BROTHER HAD TURNED HIS BACK ON HIM]
[EVERYONE HAD ABANDONED HIM, HE, THE DREAM SHATTERS]
Dream slowly lowered his bow:
“… Ink … Error … can you remove my brother’s necklace”
If the Destroyer grunted, disliking receiving an order, the Creator nodded his head and executed it immediately.
Dream gently approached Shattered :
“… I can’t answer you. We are the same. We should have had the same destiny, I suppose … …but…”
He crouches at his height:
“… You are not alone … You don’t have to be … I know how you might have felt. I know exactly how you feel. And I won’t let anyone else continue to feel that way…”
Shattered looked at him in amazement. Without the slightest hesitation, Dream came gently to wipe away his tears with a poor smile:
“We don’t have to fight anymore. We’ve never had to. Let’s stop all this, to build a better future for ourselves. When do you say?”
The broken dreamer looked away, feverish:
“… Why is it so … Why would you do this … after everything I’ve done…”
Dream laugh, before offering him a resplendent smile:
“Because everyone deserves to be happy, no matter what they’ve done in their lives. And I do need someone to support me in my role as a janitor. What do you think about that?”
Shattered exploded with a frank laughter, eyes wet :
“You are … Ahah… You’re really too dumb… Proposing such a thing to someone who wanted to destroy you, who failed to kill your friends… You’re just…”
He looked shyly at Dream :
“… you are much too nice. A true guardian of positive emotions.”
A compliment that made the guard blush, and he reached out his hand to his double. Hand that Shattered took with pleasure, exhausted by all these emotions.
Dream flickered gently with eyes, gently waking up, drawn from the world of dreams with regret, to slowly become aware that he was in his room, regaining contact with reality.
He yawned, stretched out like a cat, almost purring as the sun’s rays filtered through the curtains to caress his face. His dream was so good…. he would have liked to enjoy it a little longer. Just a little bit more. But now that he was awake, he knew he could not go back to sleep.
He began to move to stand up, envious to go to the kitchen… but an arm came tenderly to bring him back against the sheets, then came to squeeze him against a torso.
The guard laughed softly:
“Dust, I’m not a teddy bear!”
The skeleton of dust groaned, squeezed Dream more tightly, whose face ended up in the neck of the elder, making the little dream blush, which was definitely not used to this new daily routine, even though it had already been a few days.
“Duuuust! he cried, swelling his cheeks.
- Shut up…!” grumbled a voice in the back of the guard.
Before Dream could apologize, tentacles also came to embrace him, and he felt Nightmare sticking to his back in a weary but possessive gesture. This made him pouffer: his twin was terrible when he woke up!
“Sorry Nighty, I didn’t mean to wake you up …
- It’s not you… answered his brother. The other moron woke me up long before.”
Another moron who was none other than Cross, whom Nightmare had pushed out of bed without the slightest scruples when he realized that the swordsman was moving too much in his sleep. Shit what, he may have been the guardian of nightmares, he too needed to sleep properly!
And while Dream laughed, sympathetic to the monochrome which was surely going to have some nice aches and pains, the door opened on the fly to let appear Plum and Killer, a little too awake in this early morning :
“Hey marmots! exclaimed the Lustian. Breakfast is served!
- Horror made pancakes !” The madman almost drooling, imagining himself already sitting at the table in front of the food.
But their joy was short-lived when the atmosphere turned cold, and they swallowed simultaneously at the sight of Nightmare who rose very, very, very slowly, the crackling magic around him, his appendages releasing Dream to come and shake and slam the air.
The two intruders retreated:
“Okay, we’ll keep a share!” Plum finally finished Plum before running away in a hurry, grabbing Killer’s arm and dragging him along with him.
Nightmare grunted, annoyed to hear the duo’s laughter rise in the corridor. Dream had a tender smile, straightened up in turn to come and put his head against the shoulder of his twin:
“Pancakes are fun.
- … Yeah … Only with maple syrup.”
Dust yawned in his turn to come back to stick against Dream and mumble :
“Mm … and whipped cream …”
A rustle was heard, and Cross finally woke up with a grimace, badly awake but aching - just as the Dream Keeper had predicted. He glanced sleepily at the trio on the bed, before he could hardly get up to climb on the mattress and drop his skull on Nightmare’s lap:
“… I want chocolate …”he gibbered as he fell asleep again.
And Dream laughed again, savoring this quiet and intimate moment.
“So they’re not going to come to eat, as usual, Horror shouted, arms folded, while Plum came tenderly to massage his shoulders to comfort him.
- Own my heart, they enjoy a moment with four, we can leave them that!
- Pff, but I’ve gone to a lot of trouble myself!”
The Lustient pouffed and came to kiss his cheekbone:
“I know, and I’m going to take full advantage of it!”
To prove his point, he grabbed a fork and stuck a small piece of pancake in his mouth before moaning with pleasure - deliberately exaggerating his reaction while sticking more closely to his companion.
This made the cannibal blush and he quickly pulled Plum on his knees, before smiling mischievously:
“If you keep going, I’m going to eat you.
- Oh, I’m looking forward to it!”
They exchanged a complicit glance, slowly bringing their faces closer together, while the glow in their eyes showed all their passion, this little game that would soon lead them to …
“Find yourself a room!” exclaimed Color, whose face was completely red. He had reason to be embarrassed: he was sitting right in front of the couple and didn’t miss a crumb of their ride! How embarrassing that was!
Plum and Horror stuck out their tongues at him before laughing and kissing without the slightest shame, embarrassing the colorful man who came to Killer for comfort:
“Killy, they’re laughing at me !”
The madman was not of much help, laughing in turn without taking his boyfriend seriously, which caused Color to pout.
And sitting at the end of the table, watching all this little world squeaking, Error breathed a long, very long sigh, massaging his skull, already regretting having agreed to settle officially at the castle. But he had no choice. Already because he liked the bad guys, even if he didn’t show it much, but also because Dream had chosen to settle here. And if Dream lived here, it was obvious …
… that Ink comes to live there too, not to let his best friend out of his sight for a single moment.
The Destroyer received his lover without the slightest harm, still grumbling under the weight of the Artist:
“Damn, you’re so heavy!”
And Ink, who deliberately leaned more, sneered:
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Oh my love, I missed you!
- I would never say that!
- Oooown, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed!
- Ink, shut up!”
The Creator laughed as he teleported himself away, narrowly dodging a blow from his lover, only to appear on the other side of the table to grab a pancake which he came to savor with delight, acknowledging without difficulty Horror’s talent for cooking.
His attitude made the other skeletons present smile, as well as Dream who joined them shortly afterwards in the company of Dust, Nightmare and Cross. The pancakes left at such a speed that Horror was forced to make some more, fortunately with the help of Plum and - surprisingly - Dust, who in turn revealed their own little cooking talents.
In the midst of laughter and bickering, Dream was astonished:
“But … Shattered is not there?”
However, his double was always one of the first lifts.
Nightmare shrugged and grunted:
“Maybe he went for a walk? I still can’t believe you forced me to take him in.
- Well, you’re giving me a good home, so why not him?
- Your unconsciousness will kill me Dream. For one thing, this guy is not my brother. Of two, I do not accommodate you, you LIVE here!”
The guardian of dreams laughed innocently while coming to embrace his twin:
“Olala, you’re so grumpy in the morning!”
He stood up:
“But Shattered may come from another timeline, but he’s still a version of me, so he’s sort of your brother! I’m going to go get him!”
He waved to the congregation and left the room in a hurry, anxious for his other self. Shattered was a corrupt being, full of negative feelings, especially resentment and guilt. Dream was determined to help him, not to let him go now!
But fortunately he had no trouble finding it.
Shattered was just outside, right in front of the castle entrance, sitting on the stairs leading to the courtyard. His gaze was focused on the whole of Dreamtale, as if he was rediscovering the world that had given birth to him. And this was surely the case, since the Dreamtale of their childhood no longer resembled the one they had known. Probably because the way he looked at it today was that of an adult.
Dream was just as moved by it, which is why he took all the delicacy in the world to come and sit next to the other guardian, without allowing himself to speak - which would surely have broken that moment of calm.
It was Shattered who took the initiative to launch the discussion:
“What do you want?”
The little dream shyly smiles at him:
“We are having lunch. Care to join us?
- … Mm-hmm… I’m not very hungry.”
New silence, but both of them savored this moment, this moment when there was not the slightest tension in the air, when they did not feel oppressed, just … liberated.
“… It’s strange to come back here, even if it’s not MY Dreamtale … Shattered confessed Shattered, nervously coming to play with one of his tentacles. But most of all, to live there again as if nothing had happened, to see everybody talking to me quietly as if it was natural …”
He added grumbling:
“Well, if you except for that jerk Nightmare. It seems he’s just as stupid, no matter what the timeline …”
Dream elbowed him lightly while puffing:
“Hey, don’t talk like that about our brothers! They’re just a little rough and clumsy!
- Just a little?”
They laughed at the same time, exchanging a brief complicit smile before returning to contemplating the landscape:
“… Seriously … resumed the broken dream. I feel that I am disturbing. No one will be able to forget what I did.
- No, it’s true, no one will be able to forget … but if I could forgive you, others will as well.”
He put a comforting hand on Shattered’s shoulder:
“So stop standing back like that and come and eat! Horror’s pancakes are really delicious, you’ll regret it if you don’t taste them!”
The other raised his eyes to the sky:
“All right, I get it, let’s go!”
And they both got up to return to the castle, while the soft rays of the sun came to illuminate Dreamtale to announce the arrival of a beautiful, beautiful day.
sorry again, school is about to start but I made this quickly ;-;
Oh fuck nightmares suck…
I have said it before. And, I am sure that, many times throughout this project, I will say it, yet again. Annette may have been a saint, if not an all out yarn goddess. (I like to imagine that she is sitting on a cloud somewhere, made of that super soft, super fluffy, baby yarn, just looking down at all of us mere crocheting and knitting mortals. Both, giving her blessings, as all deities do. But, also, passing judgement.) But, she most definitely had a mean streak about her. Well…if not intentionally mean, than, at the very least, one who finds the comedy, and delight, in the (innocent) suffering of others.
Case in point…
It is HELL! There is no other way to say it, my friends. It is pure and simple hell! Is it easy…the stem stitch? Yes, in itself, this is a simple stitch. One that I am finding easier to work, as I start each new stalk. Sure, I am moving at what can only be defined as a glacial pace. As I have said before–just in my last post, actually–I am still new to the whole embroidery thing, and really do not want to mess up. So, better slow than sorry. (I like to say that I embroider like I walk: slow, and klutzy.)
It is not the stitch that is the problem, however. Nor am I even all that bothered by the (lack of) speed that I am working with. Or, for that matter, that fact that I am pretty sure that I have entered, with this part of the project, into some type of alternate reality, where I will actually NEVER finish embroidering. I am (somehow) managing to stay perfectly fine–calm even–with all of this. So, what is it, that is so hellish about embroidering, you may ask.
The twisting, and the tangling of yarn! To work the embroidery on this afghan, I am having to pull free rather long strands of yarn, to use, so that I am not constantly having to reattach new yarn. But, with such long strands, there comes twisting, tangling, and, inevitably, knotting.
Let me just ask one question here. Have you ever had to get no less than three knots, tied FREAKISHLY tight, out of yarn, in no less than two minutes? Yes? Well, have you ever attempted to do it, with absolutely no fingernails, to help you out, and carpal tunnel, making your hands feel like they are being prodded with red hot needles? I have! With each new embroidery stitch that I make, I have to repeat the process. Over. And over. And, still, all over again…It is, like I said, hell. It drives me so crazy that I feel like crying…like throwing the afgain away, with significant force, and using every curse word, not just in the English language, but also in a language that I will make up, called Michaelnese. But, then I look over at my husband, sitting on the chair. And, I remember that, just yesterday, he suggested that I only work this afghan, and that after it is done, I walk away. I know all too well, that, if I were to scream, as I want to, or throw a fit, like some toddler, my husband would start to question if yarn should be forcefully removed from me, for my own good. And, I just cannot have that. So, I bit down the curse words (a rather hard thing to do), and I smiled on the outside, even though I was SCREAMING on the inside.
So, where does Annette’s mean streak come in?
As a designer, so well renowned, I am almost positive that she could have created the total of thirty-six afghans, in this book, without ever once utilizing the punishment of embroidery. I have to wonder…did others who worked this afghan in the past, find that the embroidery process was HELLISH? Or, is it just me. And, once again assuming that Annette may, very well, be some type of deity, I must then (call it suspending reality, if you will) wonder if Annette, somehow knowing that, 38 years after the publication of this book, knew that I would start this project. Did she put this afghan pattern here, just to mess with me? (I know the odds are small, but, who knows. She could have been not just a great yarn artist, but also a psychic…stranger things, I am sure, have happened.) At the very least, I picture Annette, her mean-streak (which was rare, I am sure) kicking in, as she created this afghan. “Hehehe,” I can hear her laughing. “I will give them an afghan that is pretty (if you can get past the pee-yellow), but is a total pain in the ass to work.”
Annette, I say it again. I do adore you. But, I am not seeing that, no matter how kind and sweet you may have been, there was a bit of malevolence to you. Respect, girl. Play that sassy card!
Nightmares don’t occur only when we are dreaming.
The air raid sirens were going off. We’d been warned it was coming but most of us only half believed it. My friends went off to get high through their last moments, while I fought to find shelter. I was almost there when I looked to the sky to see the weapon’s vapor trail ascending into the sky, then suddenly an explosion. A small one, followed by a scramble of fighters. Those were dispatched nearly as quickly but another squadron nearly triple the size. But then, a glyph in the sky and the fighters were gone. I turned to the sheltered place, I was so close, but the glyph’s machines were beginning to spawn on the sidewalk, copies of what I’d seen in the sky made manifest in smaller forms, no bigger than a small car. They were linked, and they were here only to cleanse. We didn’t last long.
Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware
But I’d rather be a real nightmare, than die unaware, yeah
Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware
But I’m glad to be a real nightmare, so save me your prayers
Le Cauchemar / The Nightmare (1894) - Eugène Thivier.
Musée des Augustins de Toulouse
a dream of maggots and rotting flesh
based on an actual dream i had
I tried to be good and went to bed early, here I am with insomnia after a nightmare and only two hours of sleep… what even is the point..
I use to have this dream. That my now ex bf, would have this hidden house and I would never know the address. He would go to coffee shops and meet other woman and when I went to go find him he would never be there. I had this recurring dream for years and everytime I would wake up he would re-assure me that I was okay and that we would be together forever. One day he decided to break up with me, and now my worst nightmare has become my reality. He has a new home, and is now meeting new people. I guess in a way I always new this day would come and my subconscious was almost preparing me for the heartache of losing my bestfriend.
I was sitting on a bench in the middle of a black void with my English teacher, who then somehow merged with my uncle and this teacher-uncle hybrid started bashing my essay writing skills, which I wholeheartedly agreed with.
Cast of my story MANIA but it’s Among Us.
Heavily debated posting this, since the joke of this loosely hinges on a spoiler for the main story but fuck it. It’s a goofy one-off AU.