Nightmare—Dream's dearest, dearest brother—struggles onto the park's bright red monkey bars with his two weak ass arms. The new moon above them gives absolutely no light. The sky is too full of light pollution to see the stars.
"Five bucks says he wipes the fuck out," Horror bids over his strawberry milkshake from Wendy's.
"Five bucks says I wipe the fuck out," Dream raises, abandoning his kid's meal from Wendy's to run over, right as Nightmare manages to haul his scrawny body onto the top of it, staring down at Dream like a dumbass as Dream valiantly climbs atop it as well.
Right as Dream does, Blue calls from the ground, "Whoever doesn't wipe the fuck out can have sex with me first!"
Immediately, Dream and Nightmare make sounds of disgust, neither opposed to sex with Blue but both not wanting to imagine their brother having sex with Blue.
"Dream," Nightmare says, despairing, balancing precariously on the children's death trap they're both sitting on top of, "Blue's a harlot, you shouldn't be with him."
Dream shrugs, ignoring how unnerved being high up and mildly unbalanced makes him. "He's better than Ink is," he comments, eyes slowly moving to stare Ink down, the artist frantically sketching, eyes flickering between his paper and Dream with terrifying speed.
"Hey," Ink starts, sounding like he's on crack cocaine, and Dream's soul does a weird sinking-fluttering-amused sort of thing, "Blue, when you have sex with Dream, can I watch?"
Nightmare looks disgusted and horrified all in one. "What the fuck."
"It's for my modern art!" Ink defends, and Horror and Dust snicker to themselves over their Wendy's, Dust's phone held up at the group of fools, probably recording.
"Modern art?" Nightmare asks. "What, shapes and colors? You want to draw Blueberry and my brother having sex as differently colored squares, triangles, and circles?"
"I want to draw Blueberry and your brother, Dream, having sex with incredible attention to detail and an expert use of color theory."
Nightmare leans forward, looking like he wants to start a fight, but before he can manage any threatening words he falls forward, yelping stupidly as he falls from the monkey bars, landing hard on his side, but he doesn't hit his head.
Dream looks down, mildly worried, as Nightmare groans and curses to himself on the wood-chip mulch.
"Hah," Horror laugh, "you owe me five goddamn dollars, Dream."
Dream sighs. "Man."
Root for loosing dogs, and do you win? No. He's just five dollars shorter.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe contemplate hell before absolving yourself from it
Fanfic"Dream are you seriously reading warrior cats right now?" Dream looks up. "Sorry, should I be doing something else right now?" "Well, uh-" Ink stammers, looking down at his tasteful rendition of the Mona Lisa throwing gang signs and wearing gold ch...
