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orbital-inclination · 1 year

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“WHAT I NEVER TOLD YOU”

Part 1, part 2 (you are here).

Summary: Dream wakes up in a strange place. His host seems kind enough, but there's something about her home that feels… off. He will need to leave if he wants to reunite with his brother. Later, Dream and Nightmare have a conversation to finish. Notes: Moltendreams!AU. Set some time after the brothers left Dreamtale during a time when they were still unfamiliar with the multiverse. General warnings for: dreamtale typical angst/drama, mild non-graphic injury, more references to past emotional manipulation and bullying, and parental neglect Wordcount: 6178

Something was wrong.

Dream stirred. He felt sluggish and weighed down. Pulled closer to the earth by the gentle press of the something that was draped over him. There was a soft surface underneath his cheek, it didn’t itch like grass, and it didn’t crackle like dry leaves when he moved. It took an embarrassing amount of time for his mind to make sense of that, trying and failing to justify why the ground he lay on didn’t feel right. He lifted his skull slowly, rubbing his cheek against the soft surface until the texture slotted a memory into place. This felt like... a stuffed quilt? He pulled an arm free from where it had been tucked close to his body and felt along the surface he lay on. The tip of a claw caught on something. Yep. Definitely a quilt. He could feel the cotton sandwiched between layers of fabric and the stitch between squares. That didn’t immediately alarm him, because his first assumption was that Night’ must’ve found a way to cross the river and found a place for them to stay.

But... that explanation didn’t feel right. He couldn’t sense his brother nearby. The atmosphere was too... stifled. Syrupy, and thick. He almost felt loopy from it. Something wasn’t right.

Tentatively prodding around the quilt, and the surface he lay on, he discovered something else weird.

He was laying underneath... a table?

Reluctantly, Dream pushed himself upright— only to swallow back a strangled hiss as a pulse of pain and stiffness shot down his spine. Usually, the film that coated his bones took care of most things that caused him pain fairly quickly. He remembered slamming into the boulder, but he would have expected the injury to be gone by now. But, obviously, it wasn’t. Not good.

After waiting a moment, he tentatively propped himself upright again. This time, he moved slowly.

He had just enough room to rest on his elbows, slightly hunched over to avoid smacking the back of his skull on the surface above him. He mapped the space through touch and concluded that no. It was not a table. He was underneath someone’s bed. And it was a fairly large bed at that.

He was boxed in. The bed was shoved into the corner, which cut off two potential exits. One end was blocked off by what he thought might be a chest. And whoever had set him up underneath the bed, had sealed the last opening with- oh. Oh, that was a teddy bear. They had sealed the last opening with plushies and cardboard boxes. Dream pulled the bear closer and gave it a squeeze, thinking. If the person who’d brought him here wanted to keep him trapped, they weren’t trying too hard. But... why put him under the bed? He didn’t feel like much of a guest, hidden away like this.

The hinges of a door creaked. Dream stilled. He hunched down, the tendrils on his back arching defensively. A hollow, tapping sound. A box was shifted, dragged across the floor slowly, and- “Oh! You’re awake!”

The voice belonged to someone who sounded roughly his age, maybe a little bit younger. Dream’s first impression of her was that she felt very bright. Or rather very warm, and it was a testament to how saturated this place was that he could only sense her clearly when she was this close.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Uh, I’m Noelle. I’m sure this must be confusing for you but you’re in my room right now. I found you by the river bank. You were unconsciously so…”

She did something, moved a certain way, but he couldn’t tell what she was doing.

He hesitated for too long. Disappointed chipped at her warmth, cooling it. But the difference was slight. “I… um-“

“Why am I under your bed?”

Embarrassment. “Oh! W-well… my mom doesn’t like to have guests over unexpectedly but it seemed like you really needed help. I couldn’t leave you on the river bank like that! That area floods a lot.”

Dream canted his skull to the side. “So you’re hiding me from your mother?”

The embarrassment worsened. Made bitter-sour by shame and nervousness. “I know it sounds really, really silly but… if you knew my mother, it would make sense.”

Well, it didn’t make sense to Dream now. Weren’t mothers supposed to be loving or something? The closest thing he had to a mother was Nim, but he hadn’t had a relationship with her. Not really. She had been a presence. A thing that was just sort of there, but didn’t do much. She said things, sometimes. But it was like an echo of a memory with no mind behind it.

“Are you a human or a monster?” He asked because sometimes that made a difference in these things. Surprise, confusion, and the sharp tang of incredulity. “Um. I’m obviously not a human? I’m a reindeer monster??” He gave her a moment. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. I... I didn’t realize. You can’t see me, can you?” Dream shook his head. “Where is my brother?” “Your... brother?” He tensed, and a pang of uneasiness shot through his chest and squeezed. “We were separated crossing the river. He was supposed to find me. How long have I been unconscious?”

“I... I don’t know. You were alone and unconscious when I found you. That was hours ago.“ Dream didn’t like that. Had something happened to Nightmare? The tendrils on his back lashed. “I need to get back to the river. He could be there right now.” “No! You can’t!”

He flinched away from her, soul beating fast.

Noelle swallowed. “I… I mean. It’s dark out now. Mom doesn’t allow me to leave the house after dark.”

Right. Because that was a thing mothers did. Nim had also given him and Nightmare rules to follow. Just two. And they had disobeyed both. “That’s okay. You don’t have to come with me. Just let me out and I’ll find my way.”

Noelle was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He shifted, trying to show her that she had his full attention. And she did, but he was getting anxious now. He needed to reunite with his brother. He needed to apologize and know that he was okay and that nothing bad had happened to him. Something about this place didn’t feel right. Something was just off enough that he didn’t feel comfortable staying here longer than he had to be.

She didn’t reply. At that moment, a new sound interrupted the silence. A sharp rhythmic clicking. It grew steadily louder. Footsteps.

Noelle squeaked. “That’s my mother. I have to go. Don’t make any noise, okay?” The box was pushed back into place and the bed creaked above him.

Dream lowered himself flat to the ground. He held his tentacles still, coiled close to his body. Was this normal? When Nim had been alive, had everyone been this nervous around her?

Seconds later, the footsteps stopped short. A creak, quiet at first. A whine. The hinges of the door protesting. And then, silence. Absolute silence.

Above him, Noelle’s nerves jumped and startled like rabbits. She seemed to be holding herself still as carefully as he was. Breath held. Waiting.

As the silence stretched, a chill crept down his spine.

He shivered. Trying to make sense of the new taste to the magic pouring into the room. The stifling syrup-like nature of it hadn’t changed. If positivity was sweet like honey, then it was as though someone had dumped a box of salt into the jar. Something spoiled here. Something had been left to sit for too long.

All the warmth had gone. The weight of it settled in slowly. It was blunt. And cold, not unlike fear. But many emotions could be cold, could turn cold, if given the right incentive. If Nightmare were here, he could tell Dream what it was. And how fear could feel so... hollowed out.

...oh.

Apathy, Dream realized as another shiver worked its way through his bones. This was apathy. Not the absence of emotion, but the rejection of it. He pulled his limbs closer to his body. As though to hide the warmth there, like cupping his hands around the wick of a candle to shelter it from a draft.

Nightmare hid his feelings behind apathy sometimes. And it was frightening, to witness his twin severe himself from his own feelings. It made something in his chest squeeze painfully. But the cold he felt from his brother was familiar and comforting in a way. This was not.

This magic… the person it belonged to… he could not imagine magic so oppressive would belong to a monster who felt freely able to express themselves. The weight of this magic did not belong to a tolerant person. It belonged to someone who felt they needed to be in control of everything, or the twisted thing deep within their heart would snap.

Without warning the door creaked again and shut with a final click.

Noelle waited a while to speak, listening for the sound of her mother’s footsteps to fade. When she did, she whispered. “That was a close one. We have to be careful to be quiet from now on.”

“Is she always like that?”

“… my mother doesn’t like to be disturbed,” Noelle answered. “I like to collect scary things. VHS tapes, books, cassettes. Everything. But if I’m too loud, if I’m too excited or too scared she’ll force me to turn it off or take it away from me... and I just… I just wanted this one thing for myself, y’know?”

Dream felt something in his ribcage hitch.

She slid off the bed, onto the floor, and moved next to him.

“Does she know you’re unhappy here?” Noelle froze. Stuttered a noise of denial as something within her heart squirmed. Dream had his answer. “You don’t want her to know.” “Hahaha... I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I be unhappy? I mean... I have to hide things sometimes but... I live in a nice place. I... I like my town! I have my own room, my mom, my dad... why would I be unhappy?” “I don’t know,” Dream whispered. “I gave my village everything they ever wanted. Did everything they asked of me... but in the end, I don’t think anyone was truly happy.” Least of all himself, but to give that thought a voice felt selfish. What right did he have to complain, when his brother had gone through so much worse?

The shame and guilt were unbearable, suddenly. A sickly cold sank into the pit of his soul. He swallowed thickly, mana clotted in his throat, because how had he not seen the full extent his brother had been suffering? How had he not known? How had he not seen it?

He thought back to every bad day he could remember. Every question he asked that was brushed off. His brother’s stubborn silence. How tightly Nightmare would square his shoulders and turn away. And all those times Dream knew his brother was upset but felt he shouldn’t pry or chose not to. Prying would aggravate his brother and it was his purpose to spread positivity, wasn’t it? What good would it do to make Nightmare even more upset?

He wished… he wished he had tried anyway. Instead of waiting and fruitlessly holding on to the belief that Nightmare would eventually tell him on his own. When he was ready. If Dream was patient enough and did as he was told.

How naive he’d been. If hiding pain under a facade of irritability was a skill then Nightmare had surely mastered it. Dream learned not to talk about certain things and especially not to express those feelings that were cold or black and didn’t belong on his side of the tree.

He learned that quickly because it seemed to him whenever he expressed frustration or sadness or gave even the slightest hint that he was feeling anxious or stressed, someone would turn around and find a reason to blame the black apples for it. “Taint,” they’d warn, “you must stay pure of heart. It is in your brother’s nature to be cold, just as it’s yours to be kind and warm. You mustn’t allow him to influence you.”

“I think...” Dream began slowly, forcing his claws to unclench, buried so deeply into the quilt he lay on, he felt the wood underneath splitter. He forced himself to relax. Noelle needed his help right now. “I think you and your mother are not communicating something important. You are both scared. And because of that fear, you hide things from each other.” “It’s not that! She just overreacts, sometimes... when she thinks I’ve been hurt.” Her heart and mood quivered. She was sad and lonely and trying so hard to hide it. “She just wants to protect me.”

“But it hurts, doesn’t it? Her protectiveness is smothering. It threatens the things you care about.” Noelle swallowed. He heard it, underneath something that sounded like a strained laugh. “T-that’s silly! She’s my mother, I can trust her with anything.”

“Anything but the monster you’re keeping under your bed.” “I...” a flicker, and the strange denseness to the magic surrounding them rippled. Shame was the stone thrown into the murky pool. “If you truly felt that way, you wouldn’t have kept me here. You would have asked her for help but you didn’t,” Dream pressed, voice gentle but firm. “In your loneliness, you wanted to carve out a piece of happiness for yourself. But Noelle… you can’t keep me. I don’t belong here. I can’t make you happy.”

Noelle made a soft sound. Her voice cracked. “I wanted to make a decision on my own for once! I know she means well, and I... I’m too nervous to confront her. I feel powerless. But then I saw you on the river bank, it was different. I felt inspired? It was weird I...”

A pause and a strange dizziness overcame her. He shifted in concern, debating whether or not he needed to move closer in case she toppled over.

“I felt special. I knew I wanted to be your friend. No... I knew I had to be because… I couldn’t shake the feeling that I already knew who you were.”

“Friends don’t force each other to stay where they don’t want to be.”

The slight bite to his tone snapped Noelle out of her daze. He felt the snap, the sharp lick of regret, and could not tell who it belonged to. “I… I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It… it felt right at the time,” Noelle struggled for a moment. “I can’t… remember? There was something else but I don’t…”

Uneasiness swept through him. The tendrils he'd looped close to the quilt reared up warily, twisting over themselves in heed of his discomfort but unable to find the source.

“… what do you mean ‘it felt right’ ?”

“I can’t explain it. It just did, y’know? It was like one of those moments in a book when the world seems to pivot and the heroine realizes what she was meant to do.”

A shiver crawled down his spine. “Did you feel compelled to help me?”

“T-that’s a strange question. It’s what anyone would have done, isn’t it?”

He had nothing to say to that. Maybe. One would hope. But the situation still felt odd. She wanted to help him but didn’t want him to leave until he confronted her about it. It left a strange taste in his mouth.

“Will you let me up now?” He asked instead.

“Yes!” Noelle scrambled back and shoved boxes and plushies aside. One rolled over a tentacle so Dream grabbed it and set it next to the teddy bear he’d held earlier. There was a thump, as something that sounded like a book fell, and suddenly, it was just a little bit less stuffy underneath the bed. Dream felt along the edge of the bed frame above him and carefully crawled out. A sharp pain shot his spine as he stood, but he swallowed the hiss of pain in his throat and it faded, after a moment.

The floorboards creaked underfoot. Noelle shifted her weight, a dim but growing cold spot of nervousness. “What happened? Between you and your village, I mean.” His soul skipped a beat. “I don’t know,” He didn’t want to talk about it, and he especially didn't want to talk about himself. “We left.” “Oh.” A pause and she said quietly. “Dess talked about moving to the city. She wanted to take me with her to explore the city together. Leaving without her doesn’t feel right, I don’t think I’m ready yet but, maybe someday.” And Dream thought about the tree and his brother. He vividly remembered climbing the hill, running, and the dry grass lashing at his hands and clothes. The voices shouting to be heard over the rumble of approaching thunder. His brother, cornered against the trunk—

“You... you’re not going to encourage me to talk to her?”

“You know your mother better than I,” he said, and distantly wished he could blink away the memory. Over and over again, it looped. “I never went to my brother with my problems because I didn’t want him to think less of me... I regret that now.” Nightmare thought poorly of him anyway. So it hadn’t mattered. “But I was never afraid of my brother. Not in the same way you seem to be of her.”

“I’m not... afraid of my mother,” Noelle said somewhat hesitantly. “It’s just hard to talk to her. She doesn’t like to be interrupted and... the town is more important.” “Is it?” Bitterness dripped from his teeth. Hot in his mouth. Sometimes, it was easy to doubt himself. When he stole anger like a thief, he could only assume the villager elders had been right. He should have been more careful around the tree. But the branches sprouted from the same trunk. Black or gold, the apples came from the place, so there must have been something rotten in his soul from the start.

Noelle startled. A skipped beat. And Dream took a breath. “You are part of the town too, aren’t you? Why are you excluded from the same care?”

“I…” she swallowed, overwhelmed by too many emotions to name at once. Most of them leaned close to sadness. “I never thought of it that way… you-you’re right. I’m part of this town too and… I don’t know if she’ll hear me out, but I’ll try. At the very least I have to look after myself better.”

Dream nodded, and the bitter, writhing thing in his chest settled. He wished he had looked after his twin better. “Don’t smother your loneliness.”

“I won’t,” And then added somewhat hesitantly. “Do you still want to leave?”

She felt sad. Sadness was heavy and sank deep throughout one’s heart. It had the flavor of ice, without the bite of cold and he felt it as deeply as if it were his own. But, it didn’t make sense for the feeling to be this strong. Why did she want to be his friend so badly?

… he didn’t want to stay for much longer.

“I can’t stay. I have to find my brother. I’m sure he’s worried, and I’m worried about him too.”

To his relief, she understood. “We’ll have to be quiet. I’m… actually surprised mom wasn’t woken up by all that.”

Noelle meekly suggested he take her hand so he wouldn't get lost. The cabin was huge, apparently. Dream offered a compromise and held on to the corner of her sleeve instead.

She led him to the door and into the hall beyond it. They walked, stopped to listen, took a turn, and then another. Dream kept one tendril on the wall to keep himself oriented, making note of the changing texture and the stray accent table that came out of nowhere. Someone ought to put bells on those things.

Eventually, the wall ended. The sound of their footsteps changed and every breath and rustle of fabric echoed cavernously.

He only knew when Noelle took him behind a sofa because he bumped his knee into it. She directed him to a wall (it was made of skinned logs fitted together like the pieces of a puzzle with something that felt like coarse hardened clay holding it all together. Dream withdrew his hand quickly when he felt a cobweb. Spiders worked so hard on their nests.) and then to a windowsill. “All the doors and windows squeak but this one— it's a bay window. It swings open on your right— it’s the quietest. The sill is meant for sitting... um, do you need help climbing up?” He shook his head and easily pulled himself up onto the windowsill. He’d climbed trees all his life. This was nothing.

“Okay. On the count to three. One. Two. Three.” The window whined, loudly. Dream flinched and next to him, he felt Noelle jump. Her soul lurching in a half second of fright. They waited a long moment, breath held, but aside from the muffled sound of a nearby tree scratching the roof, the cabin was still.

“You better go now. Mom could’ve heard that,” Noelle said, the focus of her attention elsewhere. Dream tried to follow it, but he couldn’t figure out what she was focusing on. “I never asked for your name, did I..? That… that doesn't make sense. I really did just.. bring a stranger into my house like that.”

Dream nodded. “You could have picked a worse person to sneak into your house. My name is Dream, by the way. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Y-you're welcome?” Sometimes, it was possible to hear someone growing pale. By the sound of her voice, he imagined her face had lost all its color. “I’m sorry for involving you in this and basically kidnapping you? Oh-my-stars. I kidnapped you!”

“Hardly. I was unconscious and too close to the river bank. But you did try to keep me here,” he added, but she was already very stressed and it was making him stressed, so he hastily continued. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I don’t think you were in your right mind anyway. Will you be okay with your mother?”

“Y-yes. I think so. I mean, it's just…” she sighed. “It’s complicated. But dad is here too, so. I’ll ask him for help if I think I need it.”

Her voice was warm again, and it was slight, but for a moment, he almost couldn’t taste the sickly quality to the magic surrounding the cabin. “Thank you. I feel better now. I hope you can find your brother.”

He nodded, and murmured a thank you and goodbye because leaving someone’s home was always somewhat awkward. He turned, swung his legs over the ledge, and dropped down.

Leaves and grit crunched under his feet. He waited a moment. Just to be sure. He canted his skull toward the window, listening, then he picked a direction that felt right, and started walking.

Gradually, the ground began to dip into a shallow slope, and though he could not hear the river yet, Dream knew he was close. The ground was damp, soaked through either from rain or because of its proximity to the river. He stepped through the underbrush carefully, mindful of the way his boots sank into cold mud.

The forest floor was a knotted mass of roots, rotting leaf litter, and moss. Twice, Dream almost tripped. So he spread his tentacles wide, two held wide and arching, level with his skull so he wouldn't walk headlong into a low-hanging branch. And two low to the ground, so he wouldn’t trip again.

A quiet crunch echoed from somewhere in the undergrowth. Dream paused, angled his skull towards the sound, and held his breath because the atmosphere felt cooler and less stifled in this direction.

“...Nightmare?”

“Dream!” The shout back was immediate. His ribcage hitched. He took three quick steps forward and broke into a run. He heard the snap of a twig underfoot and the branches of a bush part. Pure relief washed over him. Cool and warm at once. The weight of his brother’s magic was unmistakable.

The rough bark of a tree snagged his tunic and he stumbled.

Two hands caught his shoulders. Dream redirected his balance and quickly latched onto his brother’s sleeve. Nightmare was not hurt, he could immediately tell. Worried and stressed, yes, but not hurt. Thank the heavens.

“Are you alright? What happened?” A sharp lick of concern. “You’re in pain.” Nightmare’s grip tightened for a moment. Dream felt one check, then two, as his brother looked him over.

He shot one back, just to make a point. He was too relieved to be truly bothered by the fussing.

“That’s from the river. It’s better than it was. I’m fine.” and honesty? So much had happened in the last however-many-hours-it’d-been he hadn’t noticed the ache until Nightmare had pointed it out. “The family that found me was kind. They didn’t hurt me.” Nightmare released him and stepped back. “Stars... I should never have led you across. We should have waited for the river to level. Or for the rapids to settle or-”

Dream shook his head. “We had to cross somewhere. I could’ve just as easily warned you it was a bad idea. But I was…” too upset. Too consumed by hurt and frustration to really consider what it meant when the sound of the river had grown so violent. If he had just stopped to think. If he hadn’t lashed out...

The tight feeling returned to his chest.

“I’m sorry.” he choked. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it. I was angry.“

“No, I…” Nightmare took a breath. “I should be the one apologizing. It was reckless to cross the river right there. I snapped at you. I hurt you. I knew better, but I didn’t care. I’m sorry.”

Nightmare didn’t... apologize often. He meant it sincerely when he did, but it was just the sort of thing his brother struggled with. Dream forced his jaw to unlock, he wasn’t angry. He was as tense as a spring, but he wasn’t angry. Not with his brother. He didn’t need to feel Nightmare’s remorse to know how much he meant it.

“But you were right… I wasn’t… I wasn’t there when you needed me. I prioritized the needs of the village over you. I saw how sad and lonely you were and still I... the why of it doesn’t matter now.”

“How could you not?” His magic was cool, a shallow pool of shade. His actions seemed logical to his brother. And that made it worse. Dream ducked his skull, feeling wretched. “They gave us clothes and attention. A purpose when Nim felt more like a ghost than the Goddess they later insisted she was. How were we supposed to interpret her will when her voice had been gutted and theirs spoke louder?”

He nodded, once and didn’t raise his head. ‘-it is in your brother’s nature to be cold.’ and Nim’s voice had always felt like the echo of a memory to him, not really there at all. He wondered, idly if they had ever really heard her.

“We never heard contradictory ideas, did we? You were the only one who questioned anything.”

“I only questioned them because of the way they treated me.” Nightmare said bitterly. “We have books to thank for that. I knew what I was experiencing was unjust, but I couldn’t articulate why until I began reading. That village was full of hypocrites.”

Dream nodded again, heart pinched tight by a dark emotion he couldn’t name but was altogether painful. “They were scared of you.”

His brother was quiet for a moment, not quite seething but close. “They resented me more than they feared me. I think I would have preferred fear. If they had been scared enough, they would have left me alone.” “Don’t say that,” Dream whispered. “Fear would have led to resentment anyway. They would’ve done worse.” “Worse,” Nightmare echoed, frigid and biting. “Do you know why I reached for the apple, Dream?” ‘Don’t...’ Dream wanted to say. ‘I already know why, please don’t say it.’ Words were stones and bile behind his teeth, he swallowed them down.

“I was convinced I was going to die.” the simmering anger that had gradually been building behind his brother’s heart suddenly evaporated, released in a deep breath. “If... if you hadn’t arrived when you did...” His voice tapered off. Neither of them wanted to hear the end of that sentence.

Guilt soured the silence. The pit of it gutted his brother. Dream looked up. The dark cold made his brother seem frail. It reminded him of the worst days. And the bitter rage he had felt when his brother had dismissed him now seemed like a pathetic response.

“I’m sorry. What I said to you was cruel.” “It was,” Nightmare said, voice quiet. Dream flinched despite knowing the truth of it. He had hurt his brother. And he had said what he did knowing that it would. “You were right. I did reach for the apple first. I didn’t have a choice, in the moment, I truly believe that. But I... I regret what happened afterward. Dream, it’s because of me that you…”

His brother didn’t finish.

“That I… what?” He hasn’t meant it… as a warning. His voice sounded hollow even to his own mind. He wasn’t even sure what he was warning his brother not to say. But something was balanced, precariously on a knife’s edge. And it was tittering.

Dream felt his brother’s rapid pulse of guilt-anxiety thrum and Nightmare said, softly and carefully. Words chosen at length. “You were despondent for three days. I don’t think you realized we had left the village by then. You wouldn’t sit unless I told you to. You barely moved. And for a time, I worried that the dust might have stuck to your clothes or that somehow I’d missed it on mine and that was why—“

Oh. For a moment he thought Nightmare was going to bring up something else. (It wouldn’t surprise if his brother had wisely decided to change what he wanted to say at the last second.) He didn’t remember that. Something in his own chest sped up. Pounding hard. “Why would there be dust on our clothes?”

Nightmare went very still. “... why would there be— you don’t...”

Was he talking about the axe? “It only struck me once,” Dream said, and hoped that might be reassuring to remember.

He didn’t understand the emotion he felt in his brother’s stare. “Right…the woodsman’s axe,” Nightmare said, slowly, muttering to himself afterward in words Dream couldn’t catch.

The sound of a woodsman chopping wood on the edge of town had been the other reason why they’d left it so quickly. It did something to his soul that Dream didn’t have a word for. The sound made his chest hurt even though it’d been a long time since that wound had healed. It put Nightmare on edge too. Maybe thats why they’d been so short with each other.

Nightmare shook himself. “The river didn’t reopen something, did it?”

Dream snorted. His brother was such a mother hen sometimes. “It’s been years, Night’, I think we’re long past the risk of that.”

His brother clicked his teeth. “Do not overestimate the strength of newly healed bones.”

“The wound is hardly new now,” and then Dream frowned, and said quietly. “I don’t blame you, Night’. It wasn’t your fault. I said that because I was upset... but didn’t mean it.” But he could tell his brother didn’t believe him. Nightmare said nothing for a beat, and Dream tried and failed to think of something to say to prove to his brother that he meant it.

“It's not like you to lose your temper. Before we crossed the river, you were trying to tell me something but I interrupted you. What were you going to say?”

Oh. Maybe the conversation should have ended there. Dream shifted, uncomfortable. “It’s nothing.” “No,” Nightmare said, voice firm. And Dream could vividly imagine the frown on his face. “It’s not nothing. You are a difficult person to anger to that extent, Dream. I know I... said somethings that I shouldn’t have, just before... what were you going to say?” A part of him bristled. It was a small part, and he did his best to bury it. He knew though, as he felt Nightmare’s scrutiny intensify, that the attempt was pointless. He supposed it was a bit like trying to hide lightning. “... Earlier you told me I left you alone with the people who hated you. And you were right. I knew they distrusted you, I didn’t understand how deep it ran but even if I had, I... don't think any other outcome was possible for us.” He crossed his arms over his chest to hide the slight tremble in his hands and vainly hoped his brother didn’t notice that either. “I only did what I was told to, ‘Night. I thought I could make everyone happy. I thought I was being selfless by putting their needs—the needs of everyone above ours. But in the end, it never felt like a choice. I... I think I only succeeded in spreading selfishness.”

“I should have known,” Nightmare’s voice was hoarse and brittle. “I should have known... they used you too.”

The crunch of leaves. A step taken closer while Dream struggled to wrangle the writhing thing in his heart. His ribcage hitched. Used? He would’ve never called it that. He didn’t want to call it that. He couldn’t think of it that way because then he would have to acknowledge that the people he’d loved had not only lied but used him too and— he found himself wrapped up in a tight hug.

“I'm sorry. We didn’t look after each other very well, did we?”

It felt like there was a dam behind his sockets. Burning, burning. But the tears wouldn’t come. He hiccuped and buried his face in the collar of his brother’s shirt. The arms wrapped around him squeezed. There was no judgment, no mocking sneers or scoffs. No teasing. Just marrow-deep sympathy and a shared raw pain he didn’t think would ever truly go away.

“It’s okay, Dream. We’re going to be okay,” Nightmare whispered and Dream wanted to cry all over again but couldn’t. It didn’t feel okay. When has anything his brother gone through been okay? It seemed like nothing had been okay for a long time. He didn’t like feeling like this. But he allowed himself to be held and rocked until the thoughts of a place he could never return to slowly faded, and the shaking subsided.

When Dream felt... not quite calm, but tired and spent, he stepped back. Nightmare let his arms fall. “I think I can take us out of here now. Something changed just before I found you. I felt a shift... Did something happen with the family that found you?” Instead of answering, Dream nodded in, at least he hoped, the direction he came from. He was too tired to explain the strange magic he’d felt in Noelle’s house.

His brother was thoughtful for a pressing second, then said, gently. “Whatever you did, it helped. Let’s leave it at that and get out of here before anything else happens.” Dream agreed wholeheartedly. He hoped whenever they went next didn’t have a woodsman. “Do you think there is a world out there without a forest?”

The question startled a chuckle from his brother. “You want to go somewhere without trees?” He felt a palm press to his forehead. “Are you ill, brother? Do you have a fever, perhaps?”

Dream swatted his hand away. He was too tired to fight the small smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Where there are no trees, there is no axe.” “I’ve read of places where there is sand instead of dirt, for as far as the eye can see, and grass refuses to grow there.” Now, he could believe that first part. After all, some river banks and dry creek beds were like that, but where grass will not grow? There was no way. “You’re lying. You’re making that up!”

Nightmare laughed and easily dodged his second attempt at smacking him. Cheater. “I don’t know when we’ll find such a place, but I promise one day I’ll take you there.”

“You read too much,” Dream commented, dryly. And if Nightmare wasn’t smiling, he was wearing an expression close to it. He reached for his brother’s hand, without hesitation this time. Nightmare took it, and in a blink, they left the forest and the AU behind.

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istherewifiinhell · 2 months

Text

IS FLYING GENDERED?

On the masculine default, typifying gender in genre, and women as the other in the transformers cartoons.

question for the ages

once again i said back in the halcyon days of watching g1 (aka 5 months ago) i was like. Nooooo, decepticon is NOT a gender that's Silly. It's funny, but as a Read Of The Text, I thought it largely unneeded. (The concept came about, as a joke, involving dismissing the bad guys using the same language you would abt women (sexistly) that they're emotional [heh, flighty], vain, and shrill) after all. If in the 80s era there are 5 whole named/speaking woman tfs, its only ever gonna get better from here right? (<- booboo the fool)

anyway

Let's consider the axiom that the assumed default gender is male, that maleness is often seen as LACK of gender, and femaleness and gender variance are the PRESENCE of gender. In certain reasoning and worldviews, of course (See Androcentrism). Then add that, for transformers, the assumed default thing a transformer turns into, is car. (Autocentrism, if you will)

(The most general term for what a tf turns into is "Alt mode" as some of them are not vehicles at all. The other mode is "Robot Mode", whether its humanoid or not)

So I will be laying out why I believe the cartoon iterations support: non standard alt modes = non standard genders. This is in spite of the fact that FIRST lady tfs were all cars. Sleek cyber cars, but still. For whatever reason, (possibly, the reason for everything in tf, toys) they might as well not exist for how woman tf characters presence in the cartoons progressed over time.

And, to be clear, this is a reading of how these works of fiction are created, not a new unified bioessentialism but for robots aliens I'm proposing for like. In universe lore reasons. I hate that idea.

That said, alt modes in order of most to least gender: Spider, motorcycle, flying (in general, with rotors, jets), tank, and then FINALLY, car. (water and space crafts are already too marginal to rank, but they too can be assumed in relation to default maleness, AND that in making one a woman, would still qualify as othering her).

The NUMBER one reason for this is the bizarre need to have an ESTABLISHED woman tf character before making new ones. AS YOU MIGHT IMAGINE. With a g1 gender ratio something like.... (counting even the most marginal cases for the ladies) 9:120? (That's a rough count from a quick scanning of the tf wiki g1 char list) Shits dire out here.

The second is, ofc, character design based. cis people [stand in phrase for the hegemonic world view] are not okay, and their opinions about how tf gender must need be depicted visually is. uh? Im not a fan. Size and shape dimorphism in general is a given, and specifically having women tfs as far more humanoid and curvy in specific. Also general cartoon lady face syndrome but, whatever. I think there's exactly one character here who doesn't have "lips" or "lipstick" as a distinguishing factor. I'm so tired.

Third is generally, the idea of The Girl Of the Team. When there's The Girl, she often isn't JUST a normal character, who happens to be a girl. See, of course, the Smurtfette Principle. But in my view there's also a trend to give The Girl "special traits" on top of "Girl", maybe even to directly combat the idea that the Girl Character has no other traits? To stop this from being a General Primer on Woman in Media, my explanatory focus is things specific to the tf franchise.

(A phrase I use for thinking about normative modes [in general, not just the Alt ones] in within the tf universe is "unique transformerdom" or, even more clunkily, "A transformer of unique transformerdom". The excessive verbosity is amusing to me personally. All I mean by it is to have an umbrella term for any of the ways tfs can be made unique from their peers in the non allegorical realities of the fiction).

I could, and do, and greatly want to, speak about this AT LENGTH. But it keeps spiraling away from me. So I'll say for now were looking at ways a character is being depicted different from her peers, not because she is the only woman (which she likely is), but cause she's a different kind of transformer, AND if she's othered for it.

(IN SOME forms of the lore. Being a transformer woman, IS A UNIQUE KIND of transformer unto itself. Let's just say I hate it and move on)

Fourth, is the gender of villainy. There is much to be said about gender presentation of villains, the ways they are allowed to be aberrant. We will get to it. There is also all the tropes specific TO evil women, and the modes of villainy open TO female characters. But a general thing I think impacting the gender ratios of the factions is the how "Good" and "Evil" female characters are written. I'll generalize and call this the "Damsel vs Temptress" dichotomy. (See concepts like the Madonna-whore complex). Transformers, is by and large, an action franchise. Unless special reasons are made, characters who can impact the action– have more screen time, and likely more memorable, and iconic presences. A villainous woman can be unchaste, violent, aggressive. While a heroic woman, even if not a literal damsel are more likely to be in a support role. The secretaries of the action genre: medics and techs.

(Another factor is that tfs are giant robots, and the good guys are often friends with tiny squishy little humans. These make very good damsel fodder, and can be taking up the spots on the roster that might, in a different franchise, go to women. Additionally, while woman characters in transformers overall is an interesting topic. When I say tf women, I'm referring to ones that are in fictionally, transformers.)

SO, now understanding our points of attack/obstacles for getting woman into transformers. (Getting established, gendering the designed, uniqueness of existence, and general villainy). Lets go over those alt modes, and the characters that have em, in more detail.

Spiders

The "Beast Era" (1996) intro-ed the spider ofc. And what don't we have with this one. She's a villain, but shes also misunderstood, the era and design style let to these more organic shapes. And they used them to make sure she was very sexy. She's genre aware, she's quippy, she's an absolute icon. So naturally. She gets ported to other later shows. Which means we just have sexy spider ladies running around when everyone else is a fucking truck and shit.

Her own origin is, well think of her as a "Bride of Frankenstein" to the resident evil scientist, also a spider. She was designed for, and manipulated by him in multiple ways. Her protoform (A blank robot base), was supposed to be one of the good guys (a Maximal), but was reprogrammed into a bad guy (Predacon). Even then, she eventually joins them, for her own reasons. She's not even the first predacon to do so, the difference? Well the characters are a lot more NORMAL about his autonomy. Both of these characters stress that being a predacon is an identity they still see as important. But only the woman is told that really, she is was was always MEANT to be a maximal. And while that's true in a sense. There's also a plot were she's forced (by plot contrivance, not the other maximals) to get corrective robot surgery for it. And when they think she died from, everyone's more sad for her boyfriend than for her. Ouch.

The second spider, in the 2007 show, is now one in a world where she is the only "techno-organic" transformer, hence, she is spider, everyone else is a vehicle. Similar to the first, her narrative is very gendered, but less in the way were, like, I do literally think the first was was experiencing in universe sexism from other characters. Here, they really focus on the "techno vs organic" narrative, and the tragic circumstances on how that happened. In this case its just real world sexist writing.

THIRD SPIDER, (2010), instead of misunderstood and tragic evil, this ones just super mega likes to cause pain evil. She also occupies a strange place between the typic vehicular tfs, and the insecticons. This is because she has a helicopter alt mode, and her robot mode is just, a lady with spider characteristics. And, more than just a passing bug like similarity, she has the power to control the insecticons (you know, cause evil woman mind control). However, she doesn't fit in with them either, as the insecticons are at the most insect like they've ever been, in look, living in hives and that most don't even speak.

They may vary in exact character, relationship to the story's moral conflict, and design. But they stay comfortably established, dimorphised, flirty and flirting with villainy. And bonus points, always, for black widow spider trope.

SO. SPIDERS. Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ (Extremely!) Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ Villainy: ✅️

Motorcycles

Tooooo my knowledge the first bike lady was in 2004, and fairly minor, in the actual plot, but rest assured, they did go the previously established woman route, by being pink, though, which one shes named after varies by language. But neither were previously motorcycles. (And yes, there is also this problem of mixing together or swapping out one woman tf for another. As if we have the ladies to spare). Even though motorcycle men also exist, this one just stuck for a bit. Maybe something to do with Those Movies. I think the Gendered Existence of a motorcycle is pretty evident though, general sex appeal, being smaller, the mode of riding a motorcycle is different, more physical and intimate. Mainly this ranks so high for the level of grossness they can pack in. Just how objectifying it can be, particularly with two instances where the human rider is an annoying teen boy. Naturally, I've also never seen a male and female motorcycle in the same room, but the approach to design tends to be different. And yeah most of em are Arcee, who's first alt mode was cyber car, but it's not just her.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: Depends on iteration, I do NOT like the way one gets called "tough, for a two wheeler". Villainy: ❌(they wouldn't need to be motorcycles if they weren't making them the Special Girl Autobot, after all)

Flying

General: It just tends to stick out when your one girl is only flyer in the group, even she's otherwise tactfully done. Only flyer of the Maximals, a falcon, only flyer of the dinobots, a Pteranodon.

Rotors

I can barely even figure this one. Maybe it's just a general, aesthetics and use case of the actually vehicles, the associations? None of these ladies (and special case) are very connected otherwise. As previously mentioned, the spider helicopter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A big one for this is the preschool demo shows, which are rescue team focused. In the first one the only woman on the human response worker team pairs with the helicopter, they mention she does medical at times. The helicopter is male, like the other tfs. But also he's afraid of flying, and while not the first case of a flyer with a fear of heights, their personalities are, pretty different. As he's both fearful AND effeminate, fine as character traits go but, with the tone of humour used, marks him as Other.

In the second, Whirl (pointing to icon) becomes a girl for the first time, now with standard humanized face. I assume as move to keep with the previous show of having a girl one, as there's no human team mates. She's also the only one who really likes rescue school. Aaaand that's all know of her. What more do you want from me.

Helicopters: Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (milder than some)

But why'd I call this section rotors instead of helicopters? That would be because one of the latest Sole Female TF we just put in everything™ is a VTOL jet with rotors. She'll tend to be the only jet of her type, which is also smaller than the type of jet used for the villains.

And, of course, aside from alt mode, the thing that makes her stand out most in the cartoons? That she's very clearly a comics character. (I find the emphasize that she's "fan created" over done, as it only controlled minor aspects, and irrelevant cause tfs get completely overhauled in new versions all the time). From her design, which is a bit busier than most characters she stars with. And also uses Japanese aesthetic signifiers in ways that I think are a bit misappropriated and untactful. (VERY USamerican comics). Also, when she stars next to a guy, also from comics employing Japanese aesthetic, you can tell its not deployed in the same manner. (E.I she has hair and makeup, he has armor). Either way, her depictions have her either as badass sword lady on mission from god who's constantly getting hit on by an annoying guy. Or have her be from a different planet and has special telepathy.

Do we see how both her gender AND the cultural signifiers are having affects here? That the main woman tf in a series can be a literal alien even among our alien robots, with cultural signifiers they don't have?

Ratings Established: ✅️ (made the comics to cartoon jump) Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (SO SO EXTREMELY, using methods in fiction and real life)

Jets

I think my association of jets with tf gender is stronger, than some of the above examples, even if there's less reason to it. And why is that? Well, lets get socratic. Here's another question.

Is This All Starscream's Fault?

No. He's not real, he can't do things. But. His legacy as THE main stay transformers character that gets to subvert gender? Yeah. (Sure, the G1 autobots have their own effete, but he's not in every single cartoon they ever made now is he? Plus now that I think about it, he is a FLYING car...)

From the get, he's not a Man's man. He's shrill, he's manipulative and duplicitous, petty and emotional, cowardly and wheedling. He is, of course, the Perfect character. Now naturally, the 80s cartoon was not concerned with your paltry logics. Starscream and his ilk are the jets, but every decepticon can fly. The gun, the cassette player, the camera, the cassettes.

And each to a last, more masculine than he is. Vocally or behaviorally, physically. Every one of them fit the gender expectations more than he does. Even being a small time grunt, is a masculine trait, after all, more so than unchecked ambition. So its not femininity from flying, from jets. But direct relationship, reference, and descendancy from Starscream that makes it. I've yet to see female versions of Jet fire and or the aerialbots, for example.

So what to do when an effeminate male villain was less maltese falcon and more that man has effeminate hips? Well. We had to start getting his ass for being effeminate, explicitly. They made the female clone of him, which yeah, is an offensive joke stemming from the various The Gender Anxieties. (Transmisogyny, homophobia and sexism. General relation toxic masculinity. A heady mix of all and more).

But I mean. It's free girl tf... Once given a name in extra canon materials, she start's showing up in other things. Once you're in books, video games, comics, and most importantly, toys, you're real. And then eventually, her first non clone appearance in a cartoon, and how her presence shaped it.

That being, Cyberverse. Which is a cgi show, you need to know this for reasons of production. Making new models is expensive. This has always been the reason you just make recolours of Starscream and name them different things. Chicken or egg on this one, I don't know, But because CV has Slipstream, and the only difference between her and the generic "male" decepticon jet, is a more feminine face; Suddenly, any random decepticon goon can be a woman.

An absolutely revolutionary take for striving to populate a fictional world with gender parity. By at large it also means they're way more lady villains, and specifically flying model of villain. The show has other woman, but none who get the same androgynous body mold treatment.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: Mildly to NO. Unique: By design, no. Othered: Yes for the clone, and Screamer himself, I suppose. No, otherwise. Villainy: ✅️(That's, the whole idea)

Tanks

It needs to be said. Sometimes, when doing things that transgress a norm, anteing up is less subversive. This is another reason why gender variance, female agency and overt sexuality are more common traits of villains. When already defying strictures of society. What's one more.

That's Right. TANKS ARE THE BUTCH WOMAN OF TRANSFORMERS.

Alright. Let me back up. Strika is the stone cold knock out undefeated champ of lady tf designs that, actually has a reoccurring cartoon presence. She is, admittedly, only a reoccurring to minor character.

Her introduction is in another show with techno-organics, this one involved in the struggle between well, the techno and the organic. Strika as we see her, and as the design that will go on to be iterated, is not in her normal transformer body. She has been transferred into a 'vehicon' body. Without a preexisting essence contained in one, vehicons are not considered alive, in the way a transformer is. Visually, they lack the more human body plan, a standard face, feet and hand like appendages.

To further contrast Strika against the two techno-organic woman. Both of them are tall, and slender. Their softer organic shapes designed towards elegance or beauty, whatever your subjective opinion of that result might be. They both have romance subplots too. By the way. Or honestly one subplot and one main plot. Strika. In contrast. Is built like a brick shit house. Her face is. Minimal. And her goal: protecting her planet... by terminating the heroes.

Now, existing as a character that can be referenced for other media, and given the detail that she was a "Famous general", it's off to the races. She makes a wonderful big tank menace that can fill out a background shot, too.

Without her I hardly think we could have Clobber, also from CV. Who is. The true goat. The finest thing, the achievements of all we could ever hope for. A big fuck off woman, gender swapped from a previous male design with minimal faff, with now even more personality and show presence. Friends, wants, desires. Emotions. Thank God for Clobber, Thank Clobber for Clobber. Thank Randolph Heard and Mae Catt for Clobber.

Established: Depends if you want to count that Strika had so much swag they kept drawing/modeling her Gendered designs: FUCK NO Unique: ✅️ Othered: only originally Villainy: ✅️

Cars

So now you have the final piece of the puzzle. In transformers, Autobots are Cars. Yes, there are plenty of autobots that are NOT cars, and there are cars that are not Autobots. But they're exceptions, they're aberrances. They're unique. And Autobots are the norm. They oppose the Decepticons. Decepticons are Villains. And Decepticons can fly. Modal simplified binaries and false dichotomy abound!

And the thing about those original Autobot woman, the one's who largely did not influence all of this? They were cars, it's true, but not like how the men where cars. They've not been designed from transforming car toys, with a shellac of humanoid gender over top. Their designed in the way of human gender. With the car on top.

When the preexisting clause leads to the original designs to be revisited, which, has largely only happened in more recent years. They aren't car woman robots. The cars are literally not part of their bodies, they are additional. Instead of a unifying identity of a robot who is a car, its Arcee and her backpack. Parts of cars get grafted onto their petite lady bodies, and placed anywhere out of the way.

In order to make a transformer a woman, they have to give her a gender, not understanding that that's always been the case. And to give her a woman's gender, she's got to LOOK like a woman, not a transformer. And to look like a woman, she's got to act like a woman. She must be heroic but reactive instead of active, or else, villainous, conniving and or self centered. To be a woman, we must have some other previous woman to explain her presence, or else explain it anew with her unique, strange, or exotic origin. How could she ever be a woman if she simply, existed, looked average, talked average. How could she be a woman if her body is hunks of ungendered car. How can she be a woman if she's everything we expect a transformer to be.

A woman is transgressive, a woman is not normal. Autobots are normal. Autobots are heros. Autobots are men. And Autobots do not fly.

#some shit #its not called cisformers #<- IT SURE ISNT FOLKS #a note on how im using citations here u can read BEFORE getting into the post proper #I'm writing this in mind that someone might have NO idea about tf. or. god forbid.#the general perspective of media trope analysis im working from.#So the links can be considered additional or further reading with intent of 1. if a more thorough understanding of a concept might help #2. something im eliding the name of for search reasons 3. a referential example of what im saying #4. a specifc reference/bit of info that might be unclear. in which case im usually linking to a SECTION of the page #5. JOKE #ALright now normal tag talking space.#THIS IS. serious media analysis done casually for fun! in that. I mean it. genuinely. But also im here for silly fun and im not trying #to be SOOOO academically rigorous that its still not. Posting. u know?#MUCH inspired. or i suppose u might say. encouraged to completion and whole hearted commitment by (fandom) silly serious analysis and #math theroying thematics #i have NO idea if this thing will be searchable with all the links and the words i used. but i prepared for it it case it is #AND I PUT A LOT OF WORK INTO IT!!!!!!!! SO its okay if anyone reads it!#but im also braced for bad faithing inwhich case. I will not be held responsible for my actions. thank you.#i have been told to tag this #maccadam #transformers #if someone tryies to kill me for it im not taking responsibility

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