#areus drabble

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

"I mean, come on, Wilbur!”

“What? What? Say it; to my face. I can handle whatever you think you need to bite down on.”

Phil huffs, burying his face in his hands. The level at which Wilbur can’t seem to face his own plans, how he dances around them like a jester taunting Phil, it made him yearn to dig his nails into the table and scream at his son.

“How is this not bad? What you’re going to do—how do you expect—” Phil groans and shuts his mouth, the sharp ringing of a migraine growing louder in his head. He presses his elbows against the table and holds his own head up.

“No, this has nothing to do with that. You—we are so far past that. You know what this is really about.”

“Enlighten me.”

Wilbur scoffs. “For the love of... do you really think that this is a big problem? Really?”

His voice is almost light as he speaks, though just as tight as it had been since Phil had sent him off a few weeks back. It wasn’t the proud voice of a general he knew, nor a shaky ramblings of a dying man, nor the echoed calls of a ghost. It’s a young voice, a careless voice, but it wasn’t the Wilbur he's known all these years.

“Obviously.” Phil stresses, glaring through his fingers.

“Are you sure? Please, just,” Wilbur steps forward, slinking around the cluttered cabin to place a hand on the table with a sigh. “Think.”

Phil pauses for a few moments, trying—through the ache—to see Wilbur’s side to this. To see how the cause of the stress clearly plauging his son was a good thing.

“It’s bad.” He’s blunt and tired and too frustrated to be kinder.

“It’s only bad to you.”

“Mate—“

“We both know why. It’s not because of me.”

Phil can hear the words Wilbur doesn’t speak hissing into the air, snapped between his teeth. It’s not true, as much as Wilbur clearly wants Phil to admit to it. His eyes bore into him like that alone could break Phil. Maybe it used to.

But it’s not true. Phil’s hands shake when Wilbur runs off into the world like a wild animal unaware of the traps laid out, and his thoughts wander when a month comes and goes without a letter, but that’s—he’s a father. He’s a father and he has a right to stand his ground.

It can’t happen... what happened before—

Phil’s thoughts are jumbled in the migraine.

It’s ridiculous; this point of Wilbur’s. His argument against Phil’s argument is just something so... stupid.

And Phil tells his son as much.

Not that it does any good. Wilbur throws his arms up and closes his eyes, stepping back with a word. He turns and pauses, staring down Phil.

Phil doesn’t budge. He returns the silence.

Wilbur leaves.

hello followers i have a writing challenge for all of you because it is a challenge i like to do every now and then to practice my dialogue and emotion descriptions. the challenge is this:

write a scene where the duo of your choice talks about something emotionally charged, but they’re not allowed to ever outright say what they mean. AND you’re not allowed to use the words: feel, sad, angry, happy, or scared. you’re not allowed to use synonyms either. the goal is to describe what the character is feeling without ever stating it outright.

( and if you want, you can put the scene in the reblogs of this post and/or tag me and i will read it and give my thoughts :] )

[mayz1er]

HIII MAY!!! :DDD

I'm vibing, gonna work on learning a music piece and then probably go back to drawing cause I decided I needed to start another comic its bedrock bros because what would it be if not that. :] probably gonna write a drabble for tubboforyourthoughts since I'm in a write-y mood from writing that eret thing earlier!

how are you doing???

HIIII HI AREUS!!!!! :D

YOOOO that sounds sick i always thought music things were cool but they seem so complicated to me i’m not sure why!!! OOOO COMICCC that sounds so cool bedrock bros,,,.. they’re so great. tubboforyourthoughts my little overworked little guy. eret thing? :0 i’m gonna look for it in a sec i’m interested

i’m doing math rn!!!!! i asked my mom for help and she did it SO QUICKLY and IN HER HEAD it was so embarassing bc i was just staring at the question for so long. in my defence she used to be a math professor. so i might be at a disadvantage. CHATTY MOOD if u didn’t kno ahaha gonna try and finish my work quick so i can read and work on a friends present ^_^ BUT my day was pretty alr!!

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

for the fic thingy: bedrock bros era, techno giving tommy a prothestic leg?

hope you have a great day <33

ask game! send me a summary of a fic you wish I'd write and I'll write a snippet :]

"I still think it was unnecessary."

"Heh? You were limping around my basement with a dead foot!"

Tommy rolled his eyes, sitting up on the bed. "Oh, oh, I'm Technoblade, I like cutting off limbs and—and not using potions and—"

"Sit down." Techno groaned, pushing Tommy's chest back towards the bed. "I'm trying to get this on your leg."

"Wouldn't need it if you hadn't mutilated me."

Techno sighed and pressed his hands into his face, a thing Tommy only saw as he sat up once more.

"Why am I even doing this?" Techno whined.

"Because you mutilated me."

"Bruh—you walked around in calf-deep snow barefoot!" Techno gestured to the window, the barren and white landscape stretching on into the mountains. "For, like, two hours! You're lucky you only lost the one foot!"

"Yeah, that's 'cause I still had a shoe on, Tech-no-blade. Oh, you think you're so smart—"

"—you agreed to the surgery!—"

"—and chat thinks you're so cool and you're actually just a fucking loser who sucks like ass and—stinks like a fucking pig house."

"It's called a pigsty, you should know that."

"Shut up, man."

The cabin fell silent for a mintue, the two residents glaring at each other.

Eventually, Techno huffed. "Can I please, please just put the leg on so we can go eat?"

Tommy sighed but didn't fight back, laying back down on the bed and letting Techno do whatever he had to with his leg. Tommy supposed he was grateful—he was—and it was good that he didn't lose the entire lower half of his leg, still able to bend and move like before, just with a new part halfway down his calf.

Still.

Still, Tommy didn't exactly like it—having a new foot. Bullshit, that was what it was. He'd have to learn to walk again, run again, jump again.

Stupid fucking Dream. This was all his damn fault.

Sort of.

Tommy supposed he wasn't clear of blame either. He'd chosen to run away from his 'legal requirement', his exile. He'd been stupid enough to not think about even trying to make another shoe. Stupid enough to not gather materials. Stupid enough to not make tools.

Stupid enough to keep tools.

Tommy shook his head, looking down at Techno. "Are you done?"

Techno waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah. There."

Tommy perked up and rushed to his feet, much to the audible dismay of Technoblade.

He managed to stand, not at all used to the feeling that one of his legs seemed to reach the floor much earlier than the other, but it wasn't too unbelievable.

"Kinda like wearing high heels, innit?"

Techno stood, looking at him warily. "Uh, sure."

With that, he stepped away, and Tommy took a few steps, watching his prosthesis move with his body and press into the wood floor before he felt it do so against his stump leg.

"I feel like I'm gonna fall a lot." Tommy mumbled.

"That's what this 's for."

Tommy turned, spotting Techno handing an item out to him, a wood cane with a black handle.

"It's one of Phil's, figure it might do you some good." Techno explained.

Tommy took it with a smile, taking a step with it. "Thanks, man."

Techno's expression contorted and Tommy was pretty sure it was a smile. He still couldn't exactly read him.

"Lunch?" Techno said after a moment.

"Yeah, let's go eat, big T."

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

wrote a c!viceduo poem in like 10 minutes about the two of them as vice presidents and what their vices were (the poem is basically how many times can I use the word vice and still sound coherent) and I don’t love it but here’s one part I did like

Placed next to you, what vices does he carry?

There are two Vices for one country

And not enough vices to share.

full poem under the cut :]

Vice.

What is a vice?

Vice president. That was your vice.

Before you gained a new one

And lost yourself to your vice

For vice in that casino.

Perhaps your vices are your bad habits

Or characteristics or your gambling

But you never had those vices before you were Vice

So are they really yours to have?

Perhaps it was the name that ruined you.

Vice.

What is a vice?

Vice versa there was another Vice.

What were his vices?

He was loud and arrogant and begged to be heard.

Is that really a vice?

Placed next to you, what vices does he carry?

There are two Vices for one country

And not enough vices to share.

You hold them all in a self-maintained heart

Right next to the other Vice

Who you call viceless.

You are the deciding factor,

Vice.

What is a vice? 

Vitium. Indulgence in a fault.

What about your time as Vice screamed indulgence?

Did you indulge?

Did he?

But if being a Vice gave you your vices,

Are Vices still Vices 

if they’re starving for vices?

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

hello! for the drabbles thing, how about ctubbo playing with michael? or osmp!scott and sparklez getting into some mischief (intentionally or unintentionally, up to you)

Alright second prompt done :D I went with the c!tubbo and michael one, and it went over 1k by uh. well. well I hope you like it :D!!

---

For the Arctic, Tubbo had expected it to be a lot colder. Even as the wind bellowed against the windows and snow piled in front of the door, the inside was a burning haven of peace.

Things were very different from Snowchester. The snow fell heavy, for one, and was continuous. There were few hours in the day where it wasn't at least slightly snowing—and even then, the wind would be kicking it off the ground. Aside from that, the closest body of water was a river. Watching an oceanside sunset was no longer a possible pastime, not that Tubbo frequently did so.

But some things were still the same. Tubbo was still able to eat a hearty meal and tuck his son into bed. He was still able to fall asleep in his own soft bed, knowing he was safe for another night.

Alone, but safe.

It was enough, and Tubbo had always scraped by on enough. 

He tried not to think about it. With the syndicate helping him settle, he wasn't in the mood for complaining. Like most mornings, Tubbo stomached his doubts and grit his teeth, ready to bear it for another day.

But unlike most mornings, Tubbo was greeted by a front door that wouldn't open.

He tried the button and—figuring the thing had simply broken as the door whined but didn't move—went to force it open. He'd be sure to thank Ghostboo for deciding that an iron door that opened outwards was perfect for below freezing temperatures and definitely didn’t sting like a bitch to press against.

The door didn’t budge an inch despite his best efforts, and as Tubbo noticed that his curtains were doing a surprisingly good job at keeping light out, the reality of the situation revealed itself to him. Tubbo ran upstairs as fast as he could, rushing over to his bedroom windows.

Much like he thought, and to his dismay, there was snow blocking the door.

At second glance, as his eyes adapted to the light of the morning sun, Tubbo realized it wasn’t just his door. Around his house all the way across the field to Phil and Techno’s cabins was a layer of snow at least six feet tall.

Ah.

That certainly soured his plans for the day.

Tubbo was quick to hurry over to his bedside table and grab his comm. He sent a message to Phil. Thankfully, the man was punctual enough that day, responding in just a moment.

Ph1lza - Hi m8

Tubbo_Beloved - o/

Ph1lza - o/

Tubbo_Beloved - I'm stuck in my house

Tubbo_Beloved - there's too much snow

Ph1lza - can't dig out?

Tubbo_Beloved - doors jammed

Ph1lza - K. In basement, probably have to dig out

Ph1lza - I’ll get you after

Tubbo sighed. As much as he trusted Phil to follow through, chances were it would take at least an hour for him to dig himself out, and even if he flew over the snow and just focused on giving Tubbo’s door enough room to open, it would likely still take most of the day. At least the hours with sunlight.

With reluctant acceptance of how things were going to go today, Tubbo set his comm down and made his way back to the stairs. It wasn’t the first time his plans had been thrown to the wind, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

His first priority was breakfast and waking up Michael. There were still things to do inside.

Michael's room wasn't very big and neither was the house, but all things considered, Tubbo thought it was for the best. Though the house in the commune was built for just one person, Tubbo had had no choice but to live there. With Dream free from prison, Sam and however many others looking for ways to control people—well, suffice to say that living around the blood god and the angel of death made people less likely to target Tubbo.

Besides, Snowchester felt far too empty to properly live in. Jack had run off, Foolish was back to work in the desert, Puffy was just never around. It wasn't a thriving commune anymore, and with everything going on, the last thing Tubbo needed was to have less access to people.

And the mansion itself was too empty. That home made for three would've been so much worse than a tiny house in the snow.

So Michael had a small room, something Tubbo had hastily dug out and decorated. It was warm at least, with a comfy bed and plenty of pillows. Michael didn’t seem to mind that it was dug into the mountainside that was the back wall of their house, as much like all mornings, Tubbo found the little guy peacefully resting.

Tubbo approached his son quietly, resting a hand on Michael's shoulder and gently shaking him awake. The boy blinked once then twice, slowly coming to as Tubbo gave him a soft smile.

"Morning, buddy."

Michael yawned softly and stretched, curling up in the warm red blanket.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

Michael didn't reply, simply grunting and burying his face in the soft fabric.

Tubbo ruffled the kid's hair. "Come on, it's a snow day. We can make something together."

At that, Michael shot up, tiredly doing his best to sign back a question.

"Snow day?"

Tubbo nodded. "Yeah, uh—we're not really going anywhere."

Michael smiled after a moment, sleepily giggling as he hopped out of bed, grabbing his dad's hand and dragging him out into the hall.

"Oh—okay! Okay!" Tubbo laughed, letting Michael drag him along to the kitchen. "We'll just make some pancakes, alright?"

Once the two were fed, and both fully awake, Tubbo stepped away from the table.

Even though they were trapped inside, that didn't mean the world would stop turning. There were farms in the basement that needed upgrades, and it had been a while since Tubbo had gone mining. Some new resources could certainly be helpful considering the state of most of his items. Not to mention that there were redstone machines Tubbo was considering making that needed to be planned out.

Tubbo began to clean up quickly, washing off plates and setting them back into the cupboards before turning for the stairs.

There was still a lot to do, even—

At the sound of knocking against wood, Tubbo turned again. At his spot at the table, Michael titled his head, his brow furrowed.

"I thought it was a snow day." Michael signed.

Tubbo nodded. "Yeah, there's too much snow to go out."

Michael only looked more confused. "Why are you going upstairs?"

Tubbo paused for a second, his hand lightly pressed to the railing, trying to understand what was bothering Michael. It wasn't like Tubbo never left the house to do work, he certainly wouldn't say the five year old had attachment issues. Even back at the mansion, back in Snowchester, Michael never complained when Tubbo left home.

Of course, snow days happened there every so often and Tubbo always liked to stay home with Michael during them, but…

Oh.

Michael didn't want Tubbo to leave since he always played games with his dad on snow days.

Tubbo took a step back from the stairs, letting his hand drop to his side.

Could he spend the day with Michael? It would be nice to relax but there were a lot of things that had to be done.

Granted, none of the chores or house maintenance needed to be immediately taken care of, but with his free time, Tubbo could easily get it all done.

But the world had basically forced him inside. It had forced him to slow down.

Maybe… maybe Tubbo could just relax for a day. It wouldn't be the end of the world, after all. And it would make Michael happy.

Tubbo forced a soft smile. "Well, I was just gonna get dressed. We can play hide and go seek after."

Michael smiled as well, quickly scoffing down the rest of his pancake and rushing out of his seat.

As ridiculous as it felt to spend the entire day playing games with a five year old, Tubbo couldn't find it in himself to dislike the decision. Michael was smiling, and the chores could wait.

Tubbo dressed quickly and hurried back downstairs to help Michael get dressed as well. Once they were both ready for their day, Michael tapped Tubbo on the face and gave a quick sign of "you're hunting!" before running off into the hall.

Tubbo sighed softly, covering his eyes as he counted to thirty. From elsewhere in the house, he could hear a sharp clattering, and he cringed as he could simply hope that wasn't any of his work-in-progress projects.

When he reached thirty, Tubbo stood and hurried off into the main room of the house. Michael had obviously gone into the workroom upstairs, if that noise was any indication, so Tubbo hurried up. He reached the room in seconds, looking around the small space.

There wasn't much there in the first place, mostly a desk, work table, and a few sliding drawers against the wall. Only a few places to hide.

Tubbo marched around slowly, putting just a little bit of extra weight down with each step on the quartz.

"Now," he hummed, "where is Michael?"

From just behind Tubbo, there was a little laugh, just enough air slipping through one's nose for him to hear.

Tubbo turned slowly, continuing to step sideways across the room. He eyed the work table and the sheet covering the sides with a barely contained smirk.

Tubbo approached the cupboards, bending down and opening one.

"Is he here?!" Tubbo loudly exclaimed, sighing dejectedly at the emptiness.

He waited a moment before continuing, repeating the search as he heard yet another giggle from the table.

Taking another minute to pace the room, Tubbo walked over to the door, letting out a loud groan.

"Guess he's downstairs." He mumbled, opening the door and shutting it.

After a few seconds, the table broke out in a fit of giggles. Tubbo wasted no time stepping as lightly as he could right over to it.

He let Michael think he'd succeed for just one more sweet second before he threw the cloth up, starling the boy underneath.

Michael yelped as Tubbo grabbed him, pulling him out from under the table and up into his arms.

"Hey!"

"I guess I found you." Tubbo laughed, ever so slightly pleased by the overdramatic frown on his son's face.

"You cheated!"

Tubbo chuckled as he lifted Michael up higher, setting the young piglin down on his shoulders. "Oh, I'm just so evil."

In some form of protest, Michael leaned back, letting himself fall against Tubbo's back. Thank Prime for Tubbo holding Michael by the legs when he did so, only straining for a moment to not drop the boy.

Michael huffed softly, earning another little laugh from Tubbo as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Do you want to be the hunter this time?"

Michael seemed to light up at the idea, and Tubbo set the boy down carefully.

Nearly instantly, Michael covered his face and Tubbo took a moment to realize he was meant to be running.

He was gonna do his very best, for sure.

A few knocks rang out against the metal door as the sun was just beginning to dim on the horizon, starling Tubbo from where he sat in Michael's bed.

He stood, setting down his book and hot chocolate with the promise he'd be back in just one moment.

Outside the door was Phil, who offered a gentle smile underneath his scarf and patterned toque. In one hand was a large rectangular shovel, and every part of him from his coat to his wing covers looked like they'd been dusted in snow. But there was a large gap in the snow that allowed Tubbo to open the door.

"Phil!" Tubbo cheered, looking at the snow wall. "Thank you boss man, really."

"Yeah, 'course mate. You two doing alright in there?"

Tubbo nodded.

"Glad to hear it." Phil glanced at the snow, reaching out to tap it with his knuckles. "This is really why you need a roof that isn't flat and actually goes over the front of your house."

Tubbo chuckled awkwardly, shrugging a little. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Need any help with resources or planning?”

Tubbo paused for a moment, considering his options before shaking his head. “No, I’m reading with Michael right now. I’ll get to it later.”

Phil nodded and headed off, leaving Tubbo standing in his cold doorway for a few moments. He closed the door with a sigh, turning and walking back to Michael’s little bedroom.

The boy was all curled up in his blankets, shyly sipping on the steaming cup of cocoa. He smiled softly when Tubbo entered, and Tubbo smiled back, crawling up in the small bed next to him and picking the book back up.

“Alright, where were we?”

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

brainrot got the best of me okay here’s a very rough poem about tubbo being related to dream, schlatt, and puffy because well why not

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

okay okay for the sentence ask game thing you reblogged uhhhhhh

Tommy brushes a hand delicately over the dusty guitar, small tracks of fingers across the wood being the first disturbance of time's reclamation; the instrument sounds the same as when it was last played when his fingers catch on the strings, that warm reverberation and the high twang of a slightly too loose B string.

Tommy whinces at the sound, but keeps working his hand up and down the strings. His left hand awkwardly slides across the fretboard, and he can't blame the guitar for the way it shutters when he picks the low G string just a little too hard.

His hands are shaking. He's never played for an audience before and Prime knows he's never practiced for one.

Tommy's fingers falter for a moment and slip from their frets. He isn't sure why that thought crossed his mind; it isn't like he's playing for anyone now. Graves aren't people.

But Wilbur liked guitar, and Tommy liked Wilbur, so he sighs and strums a few more notes. They're not good.

Frowning with a groan, Tommy stands up and drops the instrument into the grass. He turns and figures that Ghostbur will find it sooner or later.

Tommy supposes that, should that be his final act of defiance in New L'Manberg, it wasn't terrible. A theft made against his older brother's ghost isn't much in the grand scheme of things.

Tommy leaves the guitar in the grass and walks silently to his trial.

----

ask game!

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

🥀 Eret

omg ded I'm sorry this took so long okay HMMMM c!eret my beloved

Fake fic premise is what if c!Eret betrayed L'Manberg but the SMP never followed through and Eret actually led them to safety.

--

Eret had suggested lighting a fire, but it seemed that the bright glow of their burning city was enough to keep them all warm. Wilbur and Tommy had settled for setting up a few tents along the edge of the forest as Niki and Fundy set out in search of some food. Tubbo had taken to organzining what they'd made it out with, passing out rations of potions and medicine to injured soliders.

It's been bad, but they'd made it out. They still had their lives, which was more than they would've gotten away with if it weren't for the tunnel. A tunnel they should've never made it through.

Tommy had pressed the button, and nothing had happened. No walls had fallen, no soldiers burst out, and no traitors were exposed. Fearing the punishment of being caught trying to trap their allies, Eret had fumbled through an excuse about why the chests were empty, saying that they'd believed they had more time to collect resources and thus hadn't filled them yet. Only Tubbo and Niki had given it a second thought, if how they'd stared down Eret as they lead the army through the tunnel was any sign, but they hadn't said anything.

To think Eret had offered that information up, given the SMP such an advantage, and they hadn't taken it.

Why? What did it give them to skip this opportunity? L'Manberg was burned, still burning, and the tunnel was of no use to either party now. Why did they not take the chance?

Eret had unknowingly trapped themselves, it seemed. Dream could at any point expose Eret's attempt at treason and create instability within L'Manberg's troops. The greater SMP had managed well enough in this battle without using their traitor, perhaps they just wanted to wait for a better day to tear their enemies apart from the inside.

Eret was nothing more than a safety waiting to be clicked off, a bomb that could explode at any point. They were being forced into playing both sides.

"Drink?"

Eret glanced up from where they'd let their eyes wander, spotting Wilbur standing just next to the log they were sitting on. He was holding out a canteen, which Eret gratefully took.

Wilbur gave a thin lipped smile, a weary tiredness in his movements as he sat down.

"Are you alright?" He asked, leaning to rest his elbows on his legs.

"Fine. You?"

"Not sure," he chuckled airly, pressing his hands together and resting his chin on them. He sighed after a moment, running one hand through a soot-filled head of hair. "We've lost so much."

Eret sipped on the canteen, following Wilbur's eyeline to where Tommy was still pitching another tent.

"We could've lost more. We haven't lost ourselves."

Wilbur nodded remorsefully. "That's true, I suppose. We still have each other. And our dignity."

Eret sealed the lip of the canteen and passed it back to Wilbur, but he didn't notice. His gaze had shifted up to the burning city in the distance hidden behind dark walls.

"Hell is other people, right? Though that's a misinterpreted quote." Wilbur muttered.

After another moment, sitting in the dark of the night, Wilbur stood and brushed his uniform off. From his side, he unclipped his hat and placed it high on his head, a heavy but prepared calmness in his movements as he looked ahead.

"Thank you, Eret."

"For?"

"The tunnel; it was quick thinking and good planning."

It was. For the view of all but Eret and those waiting to expose them, it was good, clean work. The dirty lie and self-made trap were nothing but the fraying ends behind the tapestry, ready to fall apart and break the beauty at a single tug.

Eret stood as well, no taller than their president as the two stared across the hills.

"We're still among friends, and we're going to make the SMP pay for what they've done." Wilbur furrowed his brow, a familiar fire in his words and determination in his eyes.

Eret raised a hand, placing it on Wilbur's shoulder. The lie slipped out with ease as they raised up the canteen. "To allies."

Wilbur raised his hat with a more affectionate smile than before. "To trust."

And Eret was sure, somewhere by the burning homes, Dream was smiling as well.

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

For ten years, Techno did not believe himself. He did not trust his own eyes or his own recount. He would’ve be stupid to do so.

“It was a moose,” a doctor would say, and he’d nod along. Techno was sure that what he’d seen was a moose. Physically.

“You were young, it could’ve just appear to be that tall to you.” A therapist would offer like an answer, and Techno would bite back his retort. He did not say that there were still marks on the trees from where it had touched.

“And the human face, it was a stress response,” Phil would say, and Techno would agree to having been stressed. Being in a car accident, watching his mother die; pretty traumatic and stressful, he’d say.

Technoblade did not see an eight foot tall thing in the woods that night. He did not see the human face it was wearing like a bad halloween mask. He did not see its hooves and its antlers as it stood back on two legs and watched.

Technoblade did not see anything but a moose that they’d swerved to avoid.

Tonight, Tubbo saw something. Tonight, Techno’s belief faltered for the first time.

Tonight, Wilbur Soot’s body was found in the woods.

I want to write a horror fic so bad!!!! this is the prompt I came up with today like 2 hours ago and I am fighting against opening a google doc

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

7

Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase!

7. silent fury

I feel like writing emerald duo soooo

Something was bothering Techno, Phil just didn't know what. It'd been stuffy in the cabin since they'd gotten back, ash long since soaked out of their clothes, but instead of celebrating razing that country to the ground, it was just quiet. A heavy silence that left little room to flutter wings or flick tails. They were stiff.

Phil wanted to know. He wanted to know why Techno didn't seem pleased with what he'd done, what they'd done. Sure, it hadn't been for joy, but they'd done what they'd needed to. No more L'Manberg, no more tyranny. Did Techno not find solace in that?

He lingered, Phil noticed, at the cupboard each time they went to eat as if he didn't know how many plates to grab. It was strange, unlike him.

Phil knew a lot. But he didn't know the look that crossed his friend's face each time Techno tended to the turtle farm. If he had to place it, it was anger.

Techno didn't say anything, and if Phil so much as inquired, all he would get would be a smile and a forced hightened mood, so he kept his mouth shut. Techno was angry, as far as he knew. He just didn't know who it was directed towards.

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

//ask gane ^_^// 49 for nightfall :D

Tommy sat down silently, his shoes dragging on the dirt as he crossed his legs. The rocks under him were rough, but his thick jeans and the hoodie tied around his waist were enough to keep them from hurting.

Distantly, the sun dimmed from a fiery orange to a soft and heavy purple. The wind breathed against him, and Tommy held this arms close as he leaned forward.

The sunsets in L'Manberg always were the nicest, especially in the spring. Never not quiet.

Tommy breathed with the wind for a few minutes, looking down at the crater that remained. Home was a strange name for it, a hole in the ground filled to the brim with plants and flowers, but the flag that rested at the very bottom was enough of a reminder that that was what it was—a home.

The grass behind him shuffled and Tommy snapped himself out of his mind, turning back. Drenched in the growing moonlight, glowing as it reflected off his dark armour, was Sapnap. His lips struggled from a moment, as if stuck between trying to smile and speak.

"C'mon," he said as he reached Tommy's side, gently tapping his back with his foot. "It's dark, we should get back."

Tommy sighed but nodded, ready to return to Tubbo's house and wait another night to see if Dream would finally take another home from him.

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

📥 🖊 🥇? -River

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

I love getting comments on all my fics butttttttttt hmmmm fields of flowers comments are always pretty cool since its a smaller fic with a less important character in canon as the protag so people tend to be a lot more insightful in the comments? its a smaller target audience

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

“Are you a religious man?” Ran asks, getting a little chuckle out of his friend.

“I can’t say. Prime is either out there or she’s not.”

A fair answer, he supposes. Neither of them are the devout type.

Ran lowers his head slightly, gently pulling the brush through a knot in the foal’s coat. “Sir Billiam believes, doesn’t he? That she’s still out there, waiting for the right people?”

There’s a rather pregnant pause before Dre speaks, and it leaves Ran feeling tenser than he should have been.

“Sir Billiam is the whole nine yards. He doesn’t just believe that there are prophets of Prime waiting in the wings, he thinks he is one.”

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

Hmm recently I've been writing a lot of the oneshot above and been doing a lot of research into biological stuff so that's been fun and I guess I'm proud since its working out :D

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

NOW WAIT WAIT WAIT. WHY AM I COMING UP ON 500 FOLLOWERS. IT HASN’T EVEN BEEN A MONTH SINCE I HIT 400. who are you all

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

Drabble requests!

As a thank you for 300 followers, I’m opening 10~ drabble requests slots! They’ll be somewhere between 500 and 1k words each :] I am busy with school and other things so these may take a bit but I do hope to have them done relatively fast.

For requests, I’m open to pretty much anything with exceptions obviously, like I won’t write anything boundary breaking or anything I just don’t feel super comfortable with (anything explict, excessive gore or violence, I probably won’t write physical whump). 

You can suggest pretty much anything Dream SMP related, including AUs, headcanons, and canon-divergent ideas. I’m also good with Origins SMP. 

I’m open to any characters and I’ll try my best to be in-character for ones I’m not used to writing. Additionally, I won’t write RPF or crossovers unless I know the media.

Try to include details in your prompts or just things you want, but don’t feel like you have to go overboard! 

It could be something as vague as “OSMP!Tommy watches the sunrise and thinks about his family” or more detailed like “Revivebur and Eret talk about L’Manberg and their past friends and Eret’s betrayal, from Eret’s POV with a hopeful ending”. 

Just think of if it could be written in about 1k words (for reference, this post so far is about 220 words).