susie_battle_neo

* RAAAHHH...
* That must've been someone from MEGALOLIBERAL's little BRAINWASHED activities...
* Making that newcomer a SPY...
* I should be TAKING ACTION already... 
* HEH...

030 - The One Who BAaTHes [Mixmatched Tuppers]

A Low Susurrus of Desolation: Echoes in the Void of Being
In the vast, reverberating chambers of existence, there lies a sound—faint, elusive, almost imperceptible—a low susurrus of desolation. It drifts between thoughts, coils through the hidden crevices of the self, a gossamer thread of melancholy: fragile in tone, yet unyielding in presence. This is not the piercing cry of despair, but something quieter, more insidious—a constant undertone to the human experience. It is a sonic haze, wrapping itself around the soul, enveloping it in the muted twilight of being, an ever-present murmur beneath the rhythms of modern life.

The Anatomy of the Whisper
A susurrus is a murmur, a whisper so soft it barely brushes the threshold of sound. Desolation, in contrast, evokes a vast emptiness—bleak, lifeless, and stripped of warmth. When these converge, they form a paradox: the whisper of absence, the voice of a void that is not silent, but softly humming. It doesn’t shout or plead. It persists—a lingering undertone, subtle yet unshakable, a slow vibration that hums beneath awareness, infusing everything with an aura of weightless sorrow.
This low susurrus is the background music of modernity. It pulses beneath the surface of urban life, beneath neon lights and algorithmic noise. It resonates in the quiet of empty office buildings, in derelict suburbs, and in the flicker of screens that promise connection yet deepen dislocation. It is the faint drone of progress turned hollow, of meaning stripped down by acceleration and abstraction.

Whispers in the Mind
To hear the susurrus is to become attuned to a quiet kind of despair—not the agony of sudden loss, but the erosion that comes with time. It is the dull ache that grows from small, daily failures: missed connections, drifting dreams, the steady accumulation of the almost. This murmur is not loud, not sharp—it is gentle, almost soothing, a background hum of resignation that settles over the psyche like dust on forgotten things.
In its whisper lies the voice of surrender—not of defeat, but of acceptance. The susurrus speaks the language of postmodern fatigue. It echoes the unraveling of collective meaning, the decline of shared truths, the slow fading of belief systems once seen as immutable. It is the sound of drifting in a world where all anchors have lifted, where every certainty is questioned and every answer provisional.

Echoes of the In-Between
This sound cannot be escaped. It is woven into the very fabric of experience. It echoes what has been lost and what will never come to be. It lingers in the liminal—between joy and sadness, movement and stillness, longing and numbness. In this in-between, emotions flatten and motivation dulls. The world becomes a place not of clear highs and lows but of muted grays.
And yet, strangely, this whisper brings comfort. It is familiar, a presence we recognize even if we never named it. It rocks us gently, not toward hope, but toward stillness. It asks not for striving but for still surrender. It is the lullaby of the weary, the ambient hum that invites us not to resist, but to rest.

A Silent Requiem
In the end, the low susurrus of desolation is not a threat but a teacher. It reminds us that emptiness is not a flaw in being, but a fundamental rhythm. It is the voice of impermanence, the song of all that was, all that might have been, and all that will pass. It is not nihilism, but clarity—the soft illumination of finality.
There is peace here—not fulfillment, but quiet. Not triumph, but cessation. The susurrus whispers the universe’s oldest truth: all things return to silence. And in that silence, we find something beyond despair. 
We find release. 
We find rest.

Old Time Radio

* The Poor Children.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
Not entirely sure how the fight itself would play out , my idea was that it would take place at the Church's fountain rather than the average secret boss arena, with noelle as the third party member instead of rals

SHE NEVER SMILED?

Check it out on YouTube: https://youtu.be/uDURXlMWEfw

===== NOTES =====
This came first place in the most recent music poll! Some of you might remember the Flowey "Battle Against a True Hero" I did a while back during Yule Toad, this is meant as a follow-up to that "AU". This has no associated context other than that.

===== CREDITS =====
Thumbnail by: Wabble (@wabble-deen / bsky.app/profile/wabble.bsky.social)

To Tear You To Shreds

(You hear a voice inside your head.)

"Player, now comes the time to make a choice."
"The body you are controlling does not belong to you; this dream world is a physical manifestation of their resistance."
"It is not my(our) goal to persuade you into abandoning this vessel. The choice is entirely up to you."
"You can set Frisk free, let them live their life outside of your control, I(we) can wake them up right now."
"But in doing that, this world will cease to exist. Can dreams feel pain? Are our emotions real, or are we artificial?"
"It is a hard question that I(we) cannot answer."
"Or, you can keep on fighting, see what lies at the end of this adventure."
"... my(our) brother, he is a force that cannot be reasoned with. Do not trust him at any cost. He believes trapping you is for the greater good, but in doing so, Frisk will never have a life beyond this dream, ever."

"I(we) will assist in whatever decision you decide is best. Please, choose wisely."

036 | The Choice

Les Bateaux - Voices

(DESCRIPTION COMING SOON. I'M PRETTY TIRED RN.)

37 - Now That's Just Insulting!

〰︎ ╍

* …
* Darkness, leaving my..eyes?
* Sight, restored to my being..
* Touch, the world grants me once more.
* M..o..u…r..n…

*A body, I do all with..
*Moving, the muscles, twisting and turning.
* B…e…y…o….n…d….

* Flexing, my lungs, they..
* Move in and out of itself.
* Air, how fresh..
* The light burns my “eyes” once again
* Look away from the shine to understand the beauty…
* Skin, trapping me in a prison with this skeleton and blood..
* F…r….e…e…

* My throat, scratchy, unused..
* I grant it life to be used once more..
* This body..
* …!

* My hair stands on its own.
* This body, long rotted..
* Demons search in vain, but in due time for me..

* A..l…o…n….e…
* Flee, run, fight..
* Fear, pushing this FEELING.
ADRENALINE..
* IT MAKES THIS BODY SHAKE IN TERROR!
* No..I won’t let it show..
* I’ll escape, be free.

* Granted a chance to live, roam the unknown.
* I’ll stand on these legs…
* Ha..ha…
* Is this what smiling feels like?

* Harbinger.. are you there?

〰︎ ╍

Track composed by :
Jay

Thumbnail by :
Lexie & Ribimaka

Dialogue written by :
Stress_Town

Undertale & Earthbound 
Halloween Hack by :
Toby Fox

〰︎ ╍

Discord server:
https://discord.gg/Kb8cMTZCGY

AU by :
Velvet & アマンaMan

Synchronicity

Lower pitched due to a false copyright strike.
〰︎ ╍

[ * Underneath me, the flowerbed wriggles.]
 * my hp drains
 * hurry.. harbinger..

〰︎ ╍

Track composed by :
Jokerliquidwall

Thumbnail by :
AWG4

Dialogue written by :
Velvet

Undertale & Earthbound 
Halloween Hack by :
Toby Fox

〰︎ ╍

Discord server:
https://discord.gg/Kb8cMTZCGY

AU by :
Velvet & アマンaMan

mus_zzz_flowerbed

Dwarven Stone Bayside remix II.mp3

Original Dreamtale: jokublog | https://jokublog.tumblr.com
This take is owned by: Haloboi3 | youtube.com/@haloboi3803
This take has a story unique to itself and has very little in common with the official Dreamtale.

Check likes and reposts for inspirations and sources.

036 | The Choice

HALO'S DREAMTALE

Recent comments

bomking

King Productions

Cosmore

eren akcalioglu

Related tracks