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spotaus · 19 days ago

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New Age AU (Bad Dreams)

Woah!! Bet you guys weren't expecting this one!!! (<- no but fr Idk if this one was even a drabble I mentioned wanting to do to anyone besides Ancha lmao-)

Regardless, here's a drabble that takes place a few months after Dream's exile!

(Hello @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

It was quiet.

So dreadfully quiet.

The stone walls felt suffocating, and the darkness was too overwhelming. Even the light of his own magic wasn't enough to ward off the sickly feeling crawling up his spine and over his shoulders.

Roaving like clammy hands, clinging to his bones and threatening to drag him away.

He couldn't take this anymore.

It took effort, one hand over the other, eyes on the rest of the room he'd been placed in for now. One bed instead of two. His legs felt like jelly as he tugged them over the edge.

His feet landed in his sandals not a moment later, and he shoved away from the soft mattress which felt nothing like his own.

Hid eyelights lingered on the bottom of the frame. The shadow there, not reached by the little orb of emotion which hovered beside him, providing light to the barren room.

Perhaps, he feared something would crawl out of those shadows. Tendrils. Pointed and waving. Grasping. Creeping along the floor.

He took a shaking breath.

Another.

He had to at least be able to breathe.

Dream's legs carried him unceremoniously to one of the chairs located in the room where he'd abandoned his cloak.

It was too big on him, the gold and yellow meant for the form the prophecy would have provided him with. He'd taken it with him anyways.

He tugged it over his shoulders, abd the heavy weight smothered him. In a way, it warded off that chill. Just enough to give him the courage to hurry to the door and slip outside.

The hall felt colder than the room.

And almost quieter.

It was nothing like home. With servants and guards bustling about at all hours. With the gentle hum of his mother's magic pulsing through the walls. With his brother's-

No.

He couldn't think about that now.

He padded along through the empty halls. He still shook, but the longer he was in motion the more momentum he gained.

Dream moved swiftly through these unfamiliar and unfriendly halls, until he arrived at a familiar door.

A servant entrance, which he had only noticed because he'd heard horses somewhere beyond as it briefly opened during his first tour. He hated to use it, but he knew guards would be at the main exits.

So, carefully, he entered the space which held it.

A kitchen, of sorts. Piled high with the dishes yet to be cleaned, and with food stores which would last an army a century, tucked away into every shelf.

A part of him wondered what they even did with so much hidden away, but to be honest, he didn't care enough.

He pushed through the door with little effort, and felt a sense of relief rush over him as his sandals landed in damp, earthy grass.

A glance down revealed it had been stamped over hundreds of times by weary servants, so it was flat and lame, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was outside again.

Dream had been feeling suffocated in that stupid building. Out here it felt like that horrid shadow, haunting him, knew not to tread too closely in his wake.

The wind tugged at his overly-large cloak as he stood there a moment. The door swung shut behind him.

The sky, the stars, he felt like he was saying hello to an old friend met in a distant place.

Only a moment later he shook his skull free of his momentary relief. He had to keep moving. Had to do this now.

His eyelights skimmed the dark, and he extinguished his orb. The moon was more than bright enough to illuminate the place he was searching for.

The stables.

As he traversed the open lawn, he noticed. It too was different from the one he knew so well. It was smaller, and had closed outer walls. The doors were huge, and seemed to swing out like any other door. It would not slide like his own used to.

As he reached the entrance, he gently tugged it open. It gave way easily, and he slipped in, expecting to be plunged into the darkness of yet another enclosed building.

Yet... inside it seemed only a bit more shadowed.

The stalls were largely swathed in darkness, but a thin strip of light illuminated the alley between each part of the stalls. There was a skylight above, open air, that was letting the moonlight filter down.

The way it fell, it might's been just past midnight.

Dream moved forward, carefully and quietly. He didn't want to startle the horses. Most of them seemed to be resting just like the rest of the castle. Last thing he needed was to startle one of them.

While he needed to find one awake to keep going, maybe it was better that he not find one. Maybe...

Nope.

Fate must adore him.

There, a few stalls ahead, a movement. Through the space, a horse's head suspended from its thick neck extended majestically into the moonlight nearing its stall.

It seemed to shift, to get a look at him, before settling.

Dream was gentle in his approach, but fast. His hands were shaking now as he approached the horse.

A beautiful, clean white. Little freckles of blond dotting its muzzle and forehead. It was gorgeous.

It stayed still as Dream came close and reached out his hands. They trembled, and he wished he'd worn his gloved. He hated to see his bare bones in the moonlight.

The horse softly nuzzle its nose into his hand.

And sneezed.

Dream squeaked in surprise, recoiling away a bit. He tried to stay calm, if only to keep the horse from panicking, but it just snorted as it stared at him.

Of course he'd get horse-snot on his bare hands, and-

"Excuse you, miss." Came a playful, full voice.

Dream, this time, was less calm.

Why was there a voice? Who was down here?

His emotions must've broadcasted. As he stepped backwards into the moonbeam, the mare whinnied and realed back nervously, and there was a hum of surprise from within the stall.

Frozen in place, he watched as a faint movement, aside from the large shadow of the horse, rose from inside the stall.

Glowing.

Eyes turned to him. Eyelights, like his, a wide and curious sky blue.

And then they drew closer, and where the mare once extended her neck to him, now stood a monster he starkly recognized.

"Oh, Prince Dream?" It was Blue, the squire of the knight who'd been assigned to watch over Dream, "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up so late, is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Blue was smiling. Dream could taste it. His confusion, which was quickly overtaken by a general joy.

The skeleton wasn't dressed down at all, despite presumably having been knelt in a horse's pen for some reason. His squires armor, largely padded and cloth, hung well on his frame, and part of Dream wished he could see more that just the Knight's arms and shoulders peeking over the stall door along with his skull.

"I- I wasn't expecting anyone to be up tonight either." He replied, dumbly, "I was- was just taking a stroll. Couldn't sleep."

It was a weak excuse. An excuse literally anyone could see through-

"Ah, I see!" Blue's voice cut off his thoughts before they could run away, "You know, you should really try the tea that my master drinks before bed. It always knocks him out, cold turkey!"

Dream was... bewildered.

Blue turned away from him for a moment, disappearing into the shadows of the stall, but his voice did not hesitate.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sparing a bit for you, Prince Dream! After all, it's our job as knights and knights-to-be to care for our benefactors!"

Dream could hear a bit of movement behind his words, and a few moments later Blue returned to the front of the stall. He used one arm to support himself as he hopped over the small gate, the mare trailing in his wake to watch once again.

He seemed entirely unphased, carrying tools in his other hand, moving to a hanging leather bag hung on a nail in one of the support beams and dumping the items inside.

"If you like, I could escort you back inside and make you a cup?"

Blue was still speaking, with little hesitation.

Dream felt like the squires voice was rattling around in his skull. An overwhelming amount of sound for the quiet he'd just arrived from, and quite different from the sounds he'd been searching for.

Like the chirping of bugs, the sounds of rustling leaves, the pounding of a horse's hooves heavy on the ground as he made his daring escape from this place he did not know.

"Ah, Prince! It seems Marigold managed to get you a bit dirty, I apologize on her behalf!" Blue was a lot closer. "Please, allow me!"

A lot closer.

Dream flinched as he felt soft, worn gloves cup his palms from underneath.

His focus had been far off, elsewhere, but now he watched as the skeleton a bit shorter than him gently used a clean rag he must've grabbed to towel away the remnants of the horse's gunk left on his hands.

Blue was entirely focused on his task, and Dream felt entranced by the action. It felt like his non-existant gut was attempting to mimic a writhing snake.

When Blue finally seemed content, he hummed and grinned to himself.

Even through is thick gloves, Dream had been close enough. To taste it. There was not a single hint of malice lingering in this squires soul. He was so sweet. Unbearably so. He'd barely met any souls with such a pure slate of emotions laid bare.

"P-prince Dream?! Are you alright? I'm- I'm so sorry, did I grab your hands too hard?" Blue's voice once again dragged him back to reality.

A tinge of fear in the air, and the cold rapidly claiming his hands once again.

He looked away from his hands, now abandoned by the squire who'd been keeping them warm. He had backed up by a few paces, and had his head bowed, but Dream could still see his skull was tilted. An eyelight observing him.

Guilt.

Why...

Dream all at once pulled his hands up to his cheekbones. His freezing fingertips gently rimmed the bottom edge of his sockets, and all at once he understood.

He'd started crying. Like a weakling.

He knew this feeling all too well. The tears which used to come to him when Nightmare would be sent back to his own bed by their mother. When she found Night comforting him after a night terror. His aura was always so calming.

He hadn't had Night at all, lately. Maybe that was why he hadn't shed tears yet. Until tonight, of course.

"No- no. It's nothing you did." Dream hurried to say, though he hated his voice for warbling.

He tucked his hands tightly into his cloak, and took a single shaking breath.

And then stepped to the side, and sunk down against the stall gate of the mare named Marigold.

She didn't startle as the wood shifted under Dream's weight, and settled again against the tick hay coating the bottom of the stall.

In this moment, Dream didn't care how bad it smelled, or how dirty he was getting his perfect coronation cloak, or anything. He didn't care that his perfect white bones were digging into old, splintered wood, or that his cheekbones pressed to damp planks.

He didn't care about the squire who saw.

Dream knew he couldn't risk going back to the castle, sockets full of tears. Not like this. So he'd have to fry it out here and risk the squires rumor mill in the morning.

He sniffled as he let the cold sink into the thin silk cloth which covered his legs, closing his sockets miserably in the darkness.

He heard boot-steps, and sunk a bit lower into himself as they drew softly nearer.

Though, they stopped a short distance away, and the weight of the gate shifted again, as sonething denser leaned against it.

Marigold snorted in what Dream imagined was annoyance, and he heard her hooves disappear somewhere deeper into shadow.

It was silent as Dream let his tears flow. Shoulder dug into his cheek, folded in on himself like a sort of ragdoll. Sniffles were the only thing which broke that awkward quiet.

But this silence too, was deeply uncomfortable. It was as though his moments of peace were little more than ploys to administer more distress into his mind.

The moment he could no longer stand his self-imposed quiet, he shifted.

And squinted in the darkness.

And found that, just before him, was the side of that squire.

There, back pressed to the stall door, sat Blue. He wasn't looking at Dream. The prince noticed that in one hand he held hid signature weapon, that comically large Warhammer. His eyes seemed focused, skimming the stalls. Watching over Dream's form to the doors far from where he'd turned his back.

Was... was the squire watching over him?

Normally when he threw a tantrum like this, his sorrow would seep into the air around him. He was able to drive off all the servants and soldiers. Very few would linger. Struck by an intense misery.

"Squire Blue?" Dream's voice felt hoarse and wet, remnants of the emotion that had built up inside him.

The young man's eyelights darted to the side, to look at Dream as he was called.

This time he remained silent, his expression still focused.

Dream knew this was stupid, he- "Why did you stick around?" He asked. "It's your master's duty to babysit me, not yours."

It was true. Only the Knight had orders to watch over him. And Dream knew he didn't much like the job.

For that man, there was no honor in trailing a young monster like Dream. Even if he was the son of Nim, Dream was no longer a crown prince. He was exiled. An outcast.

The question seemed to linger in the air a moment, before Blue's browser furrowed.

"Well, I believe you are sad, and it must be a type of sadness which is very hard to fight away, as you are very strong." He spoke, though the chipper tone was something softer now. Encouraging? "So as you fought your battle, I wished to stay by your side and dissuade any enemies from the outside. I could not abandon you."

He said it as though Dream was really fighting something. Inside himself.

That wasn't it at all. He'd been running away from that thing biting at him. Clawing at his heels and clogging his throat. That made him want to run away and never come back.

"I-" Was he really going to do this? "I had a bad dream, Squire Blue."

He felt like a child, confessing to his nanny that he had broken a vase in the hall.

"My brother used to comfort me, from these terrors. But- but I cannot see him anymore. He-" He choked up again, "People are saying he was jealous of me, when he took the crown, but he wasn't. He was afraid. And he cast me out and exiled me to this place!"

If he weren't so focused on trying to contain his voice, he would've been impressed at how unmoving Blue's face remained, amongst the swarm of emotions breaking through Dream's thinly-kept barrier.

"He was afraid, and I am alone, and this I'd not how it should be! Someone, something, scared him into acting out and sending me away and- and here I am. Crying in a stable like a child due to a bad dream, hundreds of miles away from my twin!"

He threatened to curl in on himself again, but he stopped himself when he saw the way that Blue looked at him. Knowingly.

"You know, it is not nearly the same, but I too am separated from my brother." Blue spoke up. Though, he was smiling?

Dream hummed in confusion, tired from his confession.

"He's younger than me, stayed in our home village as part of the city guard. He's the coolest..." He sounded almost wistful, "When I chose to start my apprenticeship I was told I would have to move away, and live here." He lamented.

Dream hated to taste the bittersweet tang of melancholy wafting softly away from Blue.

"Don't... don't you miss him?" Dream muttered, "Don't you want to run away and be with him again?" That was what Dream would do.

Blue laughed gently, a charming little 'Mweh!' That warmed Dream's soul.

"Of course!" He admitted, "But, my brother was my biggest supporter, and if I don't become a knight, then my time away will have been for nothing."

A brother giving unwavering support. Like Nighty.

"It sounds like you treasure your brother, Prince Dream," Blue said, then, "Might I ask about what you think of him?"

Oh.

That's right.

Since he left, he'd only been piling negative atop negative about his brother, making an impossibly long list in his head.

"My brother..." Dream breathed, almost a whisper. "He was-" He stopped, "is the most devoted, kindest, gentlest soul I've ever known."

He couldn't help but think of when they were children. When they had first gotten their masks, and Nightmare had recieved the smooth, rounded owl face. He'd looked so adorable and kind, lavender eyelights wide with joy.

Dream remembered seeing the grin on his twin's face when he'd let Dream press the cold wood to his own face. No doubt it had been cuter on Nightmare.

"He's so smart... he loves reading, and his studies, and always knew how to help me when I'd make trouble in the castle."

The days when Dream was seven or eight, tripping around the halls at night, wet paint on his new shirt because he'd tripped and nudged a new mural his mother had commissioned. It had been wet.

Nightmare had found him and dragged him back to their room, where he'd pulled the shirt off of Dream and immediately set about cleaning it.

He said he'd watched their babysitter do it a hundred times and he'd learned. Dream had claimed the work was beneath them, but Nighty had shot back, asking if he'd rather be caught with stained clothes by the adults. That was the last thing he'd wanted, so he'd sat and watched Night scrub away at the stain in the tub with a few bottles of who knows what and water until it was practically brand-new. By morning it was dry, as though nothing had ever happened.

"And- and he always knew when I was sad. He'd come sit with me, and we'd hug and- and nothing came between us."

Until that day, of course.

That day when Dream was practicing his speech and Nightmare had rushed into the lounge to stand before him. Nightmare's skull had been sweaty, his eyelights pinpricks. He had a scroll clutched to his chest, and a hunch to his shoulders. He'd been afraid. Dream had tasted it like a sour lemon on his tongue, and had gone on high alert.

Only for Nightmare to start babbling to him. Stammering about the prophecy and a curse and some sort of discovery. A warning.

All that Dream had caught after asking him to slow down, was that Nightmare was begging him not to go through with his coronation ceremony. That he'd found a dire omen in the library about some sort of bloodshed. Some horrible price to pay.

Dream had tried to reassure him. That it was just a mean prank, that he and everyone else would be fine. Perfectly safe.

Nightmare had left the room dejected, practically in tears, and had rushed off. If Dream had known better, he would've gone and hammered it into his twin's skull that the prophecy was safe. That he didn't have to taint his own body to protect Dream from some make-believe threat.

Dream sighed a bit, and raised one hand to his face. He rubbed his palm along his sockets, swiping away magical residue from his tears.

He wasn't any less sad, but it felt less explosive.

"Your twin sounds very nice, Prince Dream. I do understand why you would like to see him again." Blue spoke softly.

His smile was boisterous again, and Dream couldn't help himself from allowing a gentle smile to worm onto his own expression.

"I cannot let you leave, that would not allow me to protect you, but if you wish to talk again, I am often an open ear!" He suggested, "You seem less sad after talking."

Hmm.

This might have been the first time in the history of his life, he realized, that he had someone his age really speak with him.

Blue was different from the noble children and the new guards and servants back home. It was something kind. Perhaps it was that he didn't truly understand just who Dream was. Who he was meant to be.

Maybe- maybe he'd like to keep it that way a bit longer.

"Trying to flee on horseback was a silly idea anyhow." He mused, "Would you be bothered if I still took your offer? For tea, that is?"

The joy that flooded through Blue was almost contagious, and he quickly popped up from where he'd been seated, letting his hammer shimmer away into the air beside him.

Then he turned to dream, and extended a gloved hand to him.

Dream took it after a moment, and he was swiftly tugged to his feet too, shaky as a newborn foal. Cold and damp and smelly.

But Blue didn't seem to notice, nor was he bothered. Not by the dirt that coated Dream's cloak or the smear of mud which had gotten onto his skull.

Blue escorted him back out to the grounds, and Dream saw my the moon that he'd hardly spent an hour in that stable. It was still plenty dark.

As the squire began to move towards the main path, Dream tugged his armor and guided him instead to the little servant door, and Drean was rewarded for his sneaky tactics with another 'Mweh!' of excitement.

Blue held the door, and Dream hurried into the kitchen. Then from there, Blue led them through servant corridors that Dream had never known existed. Blue was careful to check over his shoulder every few steps. Maybe he was worried about losing Dream in the twists and turns?

And then, as though hitting a brick wall, they found themselves in the private barracks of the knights of this realm. For a moment, Dream worried Blue might have to enter his master's room to snatched the tea, but...

There was a little alcove outside of one of the doors, carved into the wall.

'Personal effects' Blue had explained quietly, kept in the hall so servants might have easy access to each Knight's favorite drink or treat.

Dream watched curiously as the knight moved towards the space, and carefully extracted a few leaves from a little jar left outside.

"Will that be enough for two?" Dream muttered, perplexed. It seemed hardly enough for a mouse!

Blue glanced back to Dream in confusion, and the Prince realized he'd jumped the gun. Blue hadn't planned to have any tea, only brew it for Dream.

That... felt odd.

"Mm. Have you ever tried his tea, squire Blue?" He asked quietly instead.

Blue shook his head a bit, "No, I've never had the chance." He didn't seem bothered.

Dream only nodded, and the two hurried away. Out of the knight's wing, back through the servant halls, and into the kitchen where Dream had snuck out through the little door.

There, Blue closed the door to the hall, and after a moment, seemed content to begin moving all sorts of pots and pans to find a kettle.

Dream hadn't ever lingered in a kitchen very long. His babysitter only brought them inside once or twice, always upon Nightmare's request. The kitchen here was much smaller than his own, and was infinitely more cluttered. The organization, or lack there-of, made his hands itch.

It only took a few moments before he lifted himself up to sit atop one if the counters, away from where Blue seemed to be preparing the tea.

He moved with practice around this spot, it'd taken hardly any time at all for him to dig out the worn kettle, and it'd been tucked behind little bottles and containers of who knows what.

He seemed to work the stove just fine as well, the little flames dancing along with the little light their magic provoded to them.

Only when the kettle was set did Blue seem to glance around and spot Dream once again.

He moved a bit closer, leaning against the counter a bit.

"Prince Dream, may I ask a question?" He voiced.

Dream nodded curiously.

"Do you ever do sparring?" Blue asked, then.

That was... not what Dream had expected to be asked of him. He'd had people ask him many things, but never of that.

"I... used to." He said softly.

It was ever so slight, a raise in Blue's shoulders, some sort of little happiness sparking through him.

"I've seen you, stopping by when the knights train! What weapons do you use?" Blue asked then.

Dream suddenly had to find himself smothering the flush which threatened to flood his cheekbones. Yes, he did miss sparring, but often when he was frustrated he would pass by. To get a glimpse at the Knights in their armor, so swift and powerful.

"A bow." He said, maybe a bit too hastily. "I mean... I was formally trained in swordplay, staffs, and spears, but Archery has always come easiest to me."

He was so absorbed in his thought that he almost missed the way Blue's eyelights grew bigger. Almost.

Dream allowed a smirk to cross his face, and he held his hands out before him.

His little, pearly white, hands trembled. The joints glowed a soft golden color, and it all drew out, to his fingertips. After a moment, the glow condensed, and swirled, and tightly wove into a longbow.

The bow itself was a pale white, but much like his castle, it appeared to be made of old, twisting vines and branches.

"Where is the string?" Blue's curious tone asked, and Dream was only a bit startled to find the squire so close to him now, examining the weapon.

"It's only tangible in use with my magic." Dream explained softly.

Running a hand along the space, his finger caught, and a ripple of yellow glow moved down a thick, invisible string.

Impulsively, Dream imagined, Blue stuck his gloved hand right into the space beneath where Dream had just touched. There was nothing for him to grasp.

"Wowie... that's an impressive weapon, Prince Dream! You are very skilled, that must've taken ages to craft!" Blue said, pulling his hand back as though nothing had happened.

Dream stared at it a moment, but caught himself before claiming it was an easy feat.

He'd made the bow itself no problem, but the string... they could never withhold the power of his magic. They would snap and send him reeling.

Once, a broken string had swung back and cracked against his chin. He'd bled, and all of the guard had panicked about his wellbeing. He'd been young still, and had been so startled he thought they were yelling at him. Not about him.

After that, mother had insisted he learn to channel his magic precisely. Learn to use it with an easy perfection.

"Yes, it took me some time to perfect." Dream agreed solemnly.

It seemed Blue was going to say something else, but there was a loud whistle from the stove, and the squire jolted and hurried back to tend to it.

Dream watched from afar, letting his bow disappear once more, as Blue seemed to ready a singular teacup.

Once it was finished, he carried both it, and the saucer, very carefully over to Dream's countertop perch. He offered it up to the prince, with a gentle warning of, 'hot'.

Dream took it carefully, and held it under his face. The warmth rising from it was comforting, and the smell was nice. Unfamiliar. And for once he enjoyed it.

Dream blew on the surface of the tea, making it ripple like some dark ocean, before he impatiently brought it to hid mouth.

It was hot, as Blue had warned, but not scalding. He held it in his jaw for a moment, lingering on the taste, before swallowing it down.

He took another sip. Then hummed.

"Squire Blue, will you take a sip of this? Tell me what you think?" He then offered the cup to Blue.

The squire seemed startled, but only for a moment before nodding in determination. He gently took the teacup from Dream, and tipped it so he too could take a sip.

Dream watched his face, and aa the heat subsided, Blue's expression scrunched. He seemed like he was trying to decide whether to spit it out or drink it.

The prince couldn't contain his laughter as it seemed Blue resigned himself to swallowing it. He held the cup back out to Dream in some sort of defeat.

"It's gross, isn't it?" Dream asked through his little fit of giggles. He cupped the tea back into his own hand, and watched as Blue seemed to try and outlast the awful taste surely lingering in his mouth.

"Y-yes, it is! I have never tasted something like that before, I apologize, Prince Dream." He said almost despairing.

Dream just shook his head, "No fault of yours! This appears to be some sort of black tea. Magical, probably." Dream explained, almost fond of the horrible cup of tea.

This was probably the first time he'd found such a thing funny.

If anything, his obvious joy at the situation seemed to let Blue relax a bit again.

Both of them had now experienced the horribly bitter taste of a Knight's favorite coffee, and now they were both complicit in deciding that it was nasty.

Dream let himself giggle again, and brought the cup back up to his mouth.

Almost like a shot, Dream downed the remainder of the liquid. Though it made him shudder a bit under its bitter flavor, the warmth did well to bring a heat to his ribs he hadn't had all night.

When he set the cup and saucer beside himself, he found Blue staring at him, as though he had something on his face.

(He did, it was mud, but Blue was not looking at it.)

"Prince, if it tastes bad, why would you finish it?" Blue asked in confusion.

Dream just shrugged a bit, "I think of the tea as a gift. Even if I do not enjoy it, it means something special to someone else, so it would be rude to waste it." He said simply.

Blue seemed to linger on that for a moment, before seeming to double-down on his concentrated expression. Then, all at once, he grinned.

"I know that you are a Prince, but I think that you would also make a very noble knight!" Blue asserted, before he scooped up the cup and set it aside on the counter.

He seemed to debate the sink, before noticing the piles of other dishes and simply sighed softly.

Dream popped away from the counter, landing on his feet with a tired yawn. His hand raised to cover the action, but Blue caught sight of it and burst into action, moving to Dream's side at an alarming efficiency.

"Prince Dream, if you are tired, then allow me to escort you back to your room!" He insisted.

Dream couldn't help but agree.

As they walked, a part of him wished that he could beg Blue to talk with him until the sunrise, and then stay up all over again the next night. He hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

But, they had their places.

When the sun rose, Dream would have to be a proper prince again. Take a bath, send his robes to be cleaned, speak with the nobles here, try drafting another letter back home, and rot in the foreign place.

And Blue would have to go back to toting around that knight's swords and armor polish and make him that sickeningly bitter tea on command.

Dream wondered if Blue was even getting any real training, or if he was a glorified servant. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the young man use his war hammer during training.

Though, all of these thoughts would have to wait.

The bland door to his room arrived, and Blue bowed and bid him farewell.

Dream entered the dark space for the second time that night, slipped off his sandals, and collapsed cloak and all onto his bed. Too exhausted to be afraid of dancing shadows.

#new age au #okay but so fr guys I didn't think I was going to write anything for this for a bit #(the Cross one keeps haunting me-)#but I wanted to write a character being frustrated and alone. but everyone has decent support systems.#except for Dream in this part of the story-#so here's the silly guy getting his first real friend!!!#this is Dream and Blue's first significant interaction since Dream arrived. and it's Blue's first time being allowed so close to royalty #so Blue isn't quite sure of the norms and bases his motovation on 'be a good guy' and that's IT- and Dream finds it refreshing and oddly #calming.#there are so many things here that I slipped in to try characterizing Blue and Dream properly when they're not upholding any image and just!#yeag I love them #(Their married couple energy stems directly from these first interactions btw. like. Blue was raised in a small village and was very close #with his family so he's just acting caring like he would for his brother or friends. and Dream doesn't correct him so it's just their norm #and by the time they're adults they just kinda advanced to being closer and their actions between just the two of them look like #courting and being together to literally everyone else lmao-)#mmm what else...#i think I'll stop here. just know this timeline will be SO unclear forever. i apologize <3 #OH! if those of you being tagged want me to stop tagging you ever just let me know! ��👍

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softquietsteadylove · 3 months ago

Note

you know the *really* spicy fic just written? Can we have some aftercare for that please (I just kinda want more detail on that part)

Gil wrung out the cloth, making sure it was soft to the touch, and a perfect lukewarm. Cooling to overheated skin but not so cold that it wouldn't be useful.

Thena was curled up on the couch.

The ego in him was a bit pleased to see her satisfied to the point of exhaustion. But this wasn't about him congratulating himself for being a good lover. This was about Thena.

He crouched next to her, starting at her delicate wrists. He dabbed the cloth against her skin, still faintly red from where he had kept her bound. They had never experimented quite like this before. But he had a good feeling that she enjoyed it too.

Gil ran the cloth over Thena's body lightly, wiping away the sheen of sweat she had developed. He would get some water and a snack into her next, but this came first. It reminded him of when she was in Sersi's poison ward and he had given her a sponge bath.

Thena didn't exactly like recalling that time, or that specific event. But he thought there was something kind of beautiful about it. He hadn't had any ulterior motive in it, he just wanted the woman he loved to be comfortable.

"Hm," Thena hummed as he turned her over to wash her back.

"It's okay, Princess," he whispered. She squirmed the lower down her back he got. She would probably develop some bruising there shortly. He would ice it and apologise on his knees if she wanted.

He then moved to her legs. He bit back a smile; she had never been at such a particular point of pleasure before. He ran the cloth up her legs. They were faintly sticky, she wouldn't like that. He made it up to her thighs before he paused. "Honey."

Thena cleared her throat at him, keeping her thighs together and slightly crossed so as to hide herself. She was roused from her sleep and glaring at him with all the strength she could muster (it wasn't much).

He chuckled. His wife was willing to go to such lengths with him, but as soon as the cold, hard light of day hit, she was somewhat shy. He ran his fingers up the back of her calf until he could slip his palm into the back of her knee. "Come on, Sweetness."

"I am capable of doing this myself," she grumbled as her legs - so devoid of strength that it took nothing for him to open them again - unfurled.

"I know," he mused easily. He moved his eyes away from his precious target and to hers. She squeezed her eyes shut as he wiped away the most significant evidence of their latest foray. He balled the cloth up in his hand and left a kiss below her naval. "But I like doing this for you."

Thena gave up scolding him, flopping back again as he moved back to the bathroom attached to his office. "I recall I have a rule about lying around naked in the office."

Yes, but she was so much better at it than he was. He came out again, having also given at least his upper body a quick and lazy wipe down. He retrieved his shirt, long, long forgotten in their excitement.

"No one is still in the office, are they?" she asked, sounding half asleep as he got her arms through the sleeves and let him button it around her willowy frame.

"Nope, I gave everyone the evening off. Everyone on our floor, at least," he smiled, undoing the first set of buttons he had done up. She huffed at him but he gave her a little peck. "I like seeing your cleavage, Ice."

"Insatiable man," she chided.

"Yeah," he moved his ring to the right hand again, finally scooping her up to settle her on his lap. His hand tilted her head so he could touch the tip of her nose with his. Himself from even just two years ago would laugh at him. "But I'm your insatiable man."

"Hm," she denied him the thrill of more playful arguing, settling against his chest again.

"I love you, Thena," he cooed, kissing along her cheeks and all over her face. The cloth had worked; her skin no longer felt sweaty.

"Love you too," she purred in reception of his affection. She said it far less than he did, but he was always fine with that. When she did say it, he knew she meant it.

She meant it when she kissed him goodbye in the mornings, or parting with him after a stolen lunch together. She meant it when she made it clear to his enemies than an enemy of the Tyrant King's was an enemy of the Ice Queen as well. And he knew she meant it when she let him take care of her after a crazy hot fuck session.

"I've got sushi and tteokbokki and pierogies all on the way," he continued to nuzzle her. He liked cuddling her, especially after being intimate. Sometimes Thena would hit her limit and squirm away from him, like a cat reluctant to accept cuddles.

"You spoil me," she sighed, still letting him cling to her. She truly was exhausted.

He ran his hand over her leg, soft and smooth, although he was pretty sure she would shave if not tonight then tomorrow. "You gonna be able to work in the morning?"

"Of course," she countered, and then immediately yawned and discredited herself. "It is almost as if I recommended some restraint."

Gil grinned, "I did use restraints."

She slapped his chest.

He captured the hand lazily sliding down again and moved it back to his heart. Feeling his heartbeat for herself settled her, like a lullaby. "I'm sure you can move a few morning meetings if you have to."

She puffed through her nose. "You just want me to show up for my investors meeting still glowing from all this."

So they could see his wife in all her beautiful glory and know that she was very well taken care of as a married woman?...no, of course not.

"If you're glowing then it must be because you're the light of my life," he schmoozed. Thena laughed, always amused by his silly and downright corny compliments. He always had plenty more.

She didn't even flinch at the knock on the door. "Go."

"Yes, ma'am," he kissed her cheek again, slipping away to retrieve the food delivery. He cracked the door open and leaned over to drag it inside. Not a soul was there, but he knew how Thena felt about anyone - even a security camera - seeing her at her most vulnerable.

Thena managed to sit herself up, but even the way she was leaning back spoke to her level of physical exhaustion. Gil frowned; maybe they did overdo it. "What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, unpacking the food on the coffee table between this and the other couch.

He blinked as Thena slumped forward, laying herself over his back and looping her arms around his neck. He turned his head but she nuzzled the back of his neck. She muttered something in Russian, which she knew he wasn't good at! "Hm?"

Thena turned her face so she could speak more clearly. "I said you are a good husband."

Nothing could make him happier than hearing that. He patted her arms locked around him and bent his head to kiss her fingers. "Glad to hear it, baby."

"Hm," she concluded, slipping backwards again. "Now, will you stop delaying?"

"Yes, Ice Queen," he chuckled, turning and holding up a rice cake with his hand under it. "Open up."

"You don't have to feed me."

"Aw, c'mon, it's like old times!"

"You feeding me while I was poisoned should not be 'old times'," she huffed, at least leaning forward to accept the bite. Her eyes lit and he could see the hunger she wasn't fully aware of make itself more known to her.

"Well, you can think of this time instead," he suggested, which she ignored, as he would have expected her to. He offered a piece of sushi next.

"Are you not going to have some?" She eyed him from his position on the floor, moving food from the table to her mouth.

He grinned. With them both of the same mind, she moved from the couch and he pushed the table out more. She settled on his lap again, letting him reach around her. She took another piece of salmon roll for herself and then offered him a bite over her shoulder.

"You ever think," he began, before she put her fingers on his lips to make him chew and swallow before speaking again. He gulped. "You ever think about how ourselves from two years ago probably wouldn't believe it if they could see us now?"

Thena smiled at least at the amusing idea. "I believe if you had attempted to describe this scene to my past self I would have littered you with knives until you had more holes in you than a fine sourdough."

Ah, so romantic, his Ice Queen. He merely kissed her cheek, waiting for his next bite, "same here, probably."

#Ice Queen/Tyrant King AU #pt 2 #a small little domestic accompaniment #to the last one #this one isn't spicy but it does reference the spice #I've bumped this one up in the line because it directly references the last one #listen Gil is a great husband #he takes very good care of his wife #and he takes it very seriously too #there was only one time he carried her into the bathroom #she opened her eyes and she was like what are you doing?#he says she really should pee after everything they did #she kicks him out and forbids him from ever being in the bathroom with her again #but aftercare is very important you're right!#Gil gets a little worried #a lot of the time he doesn't want to go all out because he worries #Thena is so soft and delicate and he doesn't want to hurt her #Thena also can tell when Gil is worried about her and offers what assurance she can #anyway Gil is a great husband #especially after they've just had positively filthy sex in his office #on his desk #Thena doesn't come to his office for like a week after this

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shortfeather · 10 months ago

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survivors of h-1: the usual low-key subnautica horror story (man vs unknown environment), the stressful central position of coordinating with the other groups but otherwise kind of chill, cryptid etho, mild political intrigue, iskall climbs mountains for fun, BDubs gets into his brutalist era via accidental alien possession

survivors of h-2: the minds of mortals were not meant to weather this endless snow and ice. there is no security in any direction for the ice is filled with unknown and ever-shifting tunnels inhabited by creatures who think us nothing more than gnats. but there is a greater threat, within our own bodies, stalking our veins and nerves like those creatures in the ice. and we are just as small there, just as helpless. we are nothing but toys for this land to play with and ruin until we are unrecognizable. the only option is to give ourselves over to instinct and slay that which would slay us first, even if it costs our selves. RED WINTER IS COMING.

survivors of h-3: the depths of the ocean really aren't so different from the depths of space. there's nothing nearby, you can't go outside without very specialized equipment, you feel very small, the usual. the difference is that the scanners pick up life forms instead of asteroids, and when you look out into the black and see points of light, you know you're actually seeing eyes, staring right back at you.

#hermnautica #realized i put ren and gem in a group together and decided to have some fun #other fun moments: cub gets tapped by the sea emperor and thinks he's getting Vexed again #tango builds a rocket launcher out of stuff from his luggage and plops it in mumbo's hands #pearl looking at all the various creatures and being like Eh we have worse back home (NO YOU DO NOT)#(EVEN AUSTRALIA ISN'T THIS BAD AND SHE'S NOT EVEN FROM AUSTRALIA DIRECTLY IN THIS AU)#wels and xisuma's eternal reluctant competition for being the most stressed man in the world #competition is surprisingly steep considering there's only 25 people on the planet #subnautica #hermitcraft

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sappylemons · 1 month ago

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10 bc i know you have the answer for this one

10. Which of your OCs would be most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse? Which would die immediately?

LMAO yeah it takes shadlock a week to notice anything's wrong in the first place. he's already used to shit like collecting firewood and clean water, he can fix anything he gets his hands on, good at hunting... the main concern would be the sheer amount of food required to keep two high-percentage werewolves fed (presuming he stops bane from #killing herself the second things get bad). i am imagining in this scenario that at least a few friends of his survive along with him bc if he's alone he's going to start hunting and eating people on like. month 2.

ike's arguably more likely to die to another person than the zombies just because he's going to start shanking people for supplies the second he enters crisis mode. this is probably for the best because ike is only ever a minimal amount of disaster away from becoming a serial killer/cult leader etc.

#if ike isn't directly next to him at all times spider gets eated day one. sorry.#like a popcorn. like a pringles #snail mail #falsetestimony #suicide ment #i actually have a loosely formed zombies au i should draw that #ocs #shadlock #ike

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jewishcissiekj · 6 months ago

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thinking about Bliz and Asajj's beef. it transcends AUs they just do not like each other

#daily asajj thought of the day #my ocs #bliz karse #karse lineage #in my jedi au bliz does not like asajj because she senses the darkness inside her or whatever #and doesn't believe she can overcome it #and asajj argues with bliz when she finds out she isn't a general in the clone wars #and that she excludes herself from the effort and thinks she has the right to not fight and risk her life and all that shit #and in my canon compliant headcanon oc story asajj killed bliz's 3rd padawan so #there's that #there's also sevo who is a whole other story #and their story directly connects to kol getting of rattatak #i love my oc lore #co-parents AU fic #kinda

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inklingofadream · 1 year ago

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periodic reminder that 4thewords is great :) never timed well bc it never occurs to me to say this in november when they offer a month of free subscription time, but! it is making the process of catching up on polychives more satisfying. finishing this chapter is like fighting a literal beast, rather than a metaphorical one, because for $4 a month (or slightly less, I buy the end of year bundle) 4thewords will provide Beasts

#writing #polychives au #ink post #it's possible they offer trial periods other times of year but i dont remember #not digging up my referral code but if you do want to try them using it will award us both perks in game #it's like. 80-90% great. the not great is slight jank on mobile/during site updates you get with any smallish enterprise #and also a definitely non-zero amount of orientalism. not equipped to estimate how much?#bc i've been stalled on the main quest for a while lol. and have been in the Orientalism Zone of the map for a while #basically any white author fantasy doorstopper with a 'desert' culture/country/etc if you need a ballpark #yknow the scarves/veils genre of Sexy Woman in visual media? she's here as a monster which isn't NOT stigmatizing #but i'm not equipped to make the call on like. how bad it is. bc my knowledge ends at spotting a Likely Yikes scene dressing #you fight 'good' or friendly characters as monsters but theyre usually specifically 'infected' when humanoid #whereas this may or may not be the case. i think theyre directly affiliated with the big bad/its army iirc #and it mostly seems p bad bc like. they're quite good with most other representation boxes.#pride month events textually queer characters visibly disabled characters as cool mentor types etc #so the weak areas feel more grating

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seagullcharmer · 1 year ago

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the problem, much the same as it was five years ago, is i'm not sure where to go with this fic

#libra.txt #i'm not just going to do a canon rewrite. that would be boring #but at the same time....... this jim is from a different timeline. he needs to go home eventually.#i mean. i know there's the multiverse theory where every choice creates a new divergent offshoot #so i'm sure i could handwave it so that claire can still be happy #and jim can go back to his time and finish off what the series did #since it's just an unbecoming au. not a complete trollhunter!claire separate arc #i mean. i've also laid down some breadcrumbs that this situation is not exact to canon #where unbecoming was like a weird dream. this jim was more or less sent back in time / sent to an alt universe #where what happened /felt/ like a dream #so in some aspects in this timeline it's more like he has weird foresight rather than directly experienced it #aaah this isn't making sense. whatever. i'm the writer and i'll figure it out

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wacky-nameless-inventor-24 · 2 years ago

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Royalty Mads finding a way to cast little magical illusions on his canines to make them look a little longer/sharper, he does this whenever he's talking to someone he's annoyed with so they stand out a little when he yawns/smiles and that way they work as an intimidation tactic.

#his subtle way of saying 'I *will* bite you if you don't shut up'#NFenton eventually realizes when/why he does it and just braces himself every time #because it usually means there is going to be an Argument #whether Mads is arguing with him or with someone else #but you know Mads is getting real fed up when he pointedly licks his teeth #because he feels like the intimidation isn't working so he is going to directly point his sharp teeth out #madfen royalty au #wacky's soliloquies

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 2 years ago

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rotates legends zone dymanics in my mind

#the nemesis speaks #the legends zone #hi. sorry. apparently this is The AU of the Day. im going to bed soon promise #but god one thing i do really get obsessed with so fast is porting characters to another situation #and seeing how their relationships evolve #AND i love Bonding. so this is great.#anyway to nobody's surprise i AM envisioning akari as the protag and rei as counterpart #and i think being stuck as a child developmentally for a century of running and hiding and fighting across universes #has some uh. Fun Lasting Effects #and then she Forgot ever going through that and was also cut off from her family (her FAMILY-)#so it's. hard. the whole world feels Wrong. her emotions are too Big for her body to hold #she's still a child but it's like she's doing it wrong somehow. she isn't like anyone else #which is what directly relates to her running away from the home she gets put in bc they fundamentally CAN'T get it and also don't try #and she's so hurt and frustrated and she KNOWS she could be on her own anyway! one of the ways in which she's too grown-up #but that's hard too it's just hard in different ways #and then she finds cyllene and lav and ingo again and it's just like. a Click. somehow it's so much easier to Exist when they're there #....this is mostly abt akari i guess. oops. there's more abt the others but there is a theoretical tag limit on these things #AND ALSO I THINK SHE'S A DIVINE OR CHOSEN SORCERER. so that's another thing. magic she can't 100% control #that just burns through her when she gets emotional #ingo meanwhile has not felt An Emotion in five years. and laventon is off in lala land approximately 50% of the time.#and if you ask cyllene she'll say her only emotion is Shouting. but she's a fucking liar #but more on that another time!

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vm-haunts · 2 days ago

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...

The spirit is always there with the child, but most of the time they're... resting. Aware, but only barely, of the world passing by them, and later of the child that tried to speak with them.

They're getting better though. At first the only clear thing they can process is the child's voice when he speaks to them. Then they found enough strength to stay with the child, before their little shrine is lost.

By the time the child found a new home again, the spirit is aware enough to hum at him, sometimes, beyond just answering his voice.

The spirit still doesn't have a voice, but they can be heard now.

...

The spirit is flying.

Technically they always had been, but this is different. The spirit is flying because the child is flying, and that feels- familiar.

Flying across the skyline, a city sprawling beneath them, the need to protect burning in their heart... The spirit doesn't have memories, but this familiarity might be the closest they get to having one.

Unexplainably, it filled them with equal parts nostalgia and dread.

But, but. The child is happy. Well fed and warm, in a better place than he had been in- forever. So eager to learn and to help, as he had always been, now happy to finally have the means to do it.

So the spirit is happy too, for the child.

It doesn't stop their humming worry.

...

There is a watch on the table, and the spirit is watching the boy carefully take it apart.

The names are unfamiliar as the boy reads about the innards of a watch, but the spirit feels like he had seen those intricate movemens, held those delicate gears, heard that quiet ticking whirr.

The vibration of a million different movements in motion, the crown turning the gears to set the hands, the escapement of time ticking and whirring until the end of Infinity.

The spirit blinks, and touched his ears. The watch is back in it's box, so he is back besides the boy's beating heart.

The boy sighed, and rubbed his eyes. The watch need a lot more work to fix than he thought. Need a lot more time then he had.

But he will fix it, even if it ends up late.

...

There is a wail building up, had been for a long while now. And this, this would be the final bar to push him past the threshold.

A crack in a dam, in a pressurized tank. In a boy's bones, in a ghost's core.

There is another ghost here, one that doesn't belong. They tried to take the boy from him help. They couldn't.

The spirit- is cradling the boy in their core. Is moving a half dead dying body. Is trying to free, to save, to shield. Is looking at-

A pressure meter digital timer, countdown to an explosion. Always an explosion.

Too late, too helpless, too weak, too useless. Repeat

The other ghost is screaming something, at the body, at the spirit, at the boy.

The spirit swallows down his wail, and hums at the boy instead.

Jason hums back, before the shockwave can reach them.

...

The spirit had no voice, no memory, no shape, no name.

But, it knows that once upon a time, it did. Knows that there is a Before, somewhere, even if it can't remember that. Knows that things must have happened, in that Before, because of what felt familiar.

He has a name, now. Not his name, but he has a name to remember, to trace with his voice, with his fingers.

Jason Todd.

The ghost of a dead boy settled under the hooded angel, and waits for the other boy to wake up.

Little Prayers

A shrine is where gods and spirits resides, a little kid read from a book.

Thinking of that, the kid made a shrine in his corner of the apartment.

It consist of one candle and two prized books, made scared by a few candy wrappers and the prayers of a little child.

A few days later, a tiny wisp of something moved in.

...

The spirit is... weak.

Weak to the point of almost fading, when it found this tiny empty shrine and moved in.

It wasn't always this weak, maybe. Once upon a time, it might even have been strong. With a solid body, a real name.

Now it has none of that, just a wisp that held no memory nor shape.

The spirit confessed to the child, in a voice that isn't made from sound, that it isn't a god, nor can it offer protection in return. That it is sorry for taking the offering but couldn't brought anything in return.

The child doesn't know the difference though, between a god and a spirit, between then and now. Nor does he particularly cares. His little shrine worked and that's the important bit. The child told the spirit exactly that, and got a flicker in the candle light as a nod.

So the spirit stayed, in the little shrine of one candle and two books. Listening to the prayers of a child, spoken more to a friend than a god.

Maybe it can offer something back after all, the spirit thought. A presence, a friend. That'll be... not good or enough, but nice, maybe.

...

Jason is- not lucky, no.

Lucky would mean his mom is healthy, or never had gotten sick; lucky would mean his dad not getting caught, or not needing to work anything illegal at all. That would be real luck, and Jason don't have that kind of luck.

But Jason isn't absolutely unlucky either, he reasoned. His parents aren't good people by the standards of most, but they do love him, when they're able to.

That's better luck than a lot of kids in the Alley.

Jason tells that to the little god- spirit, he isn't sure he knows or cares of the difference. The wisp living in his shrine wavers, and the shadows whispers again that they're sorry they can't help him.

Jason is fine with that. The spirit staying with him in the little shrine is enough luck, maybe.

...

Then, one day, Jason's luck ran out.

Well, not really. There's a lot that can happen to a kid left alone in the Alley, and Jason had avoided the worst of those things so far. It's the same kind of not-quite-luck that he seems to had, and Jason is greatful for it. Sometimes.

Strangely, the spirit follows him still, even without the tiny shrine to hold them. So Jason shares his day and what food he could find, like he always did. He'll eat the offering too, after, like he always did. No sense wasting perfectly fine food.

The spirit flickers sometimes, speaks with him in a way that isn't really speaking, and Jason is... not content, but greatful, maybe, to be not entirely alone.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny fenton #jason todd #god of arepo au #one of these day I'm gonna learn my lesson and stop drafting directly on Tumblr #I lost this twice. Twice!#anyways. Yes that's the nasty burger explosion. but also No that isn't why Danny ended up as a lost spirit #clockwork fixed that just like in canon #but he still watched his whole world go up it flames. wether it sticks or not. so #gah I have so many thoughts about this au it's driving me nuts #the watch Jason is fixing is a gift for Bruce. he never gets to finish it #except he did. after #and I wonder if anyone gets the clockwork stuff. the movement the crown the escapement #anyways this is probably it for little prayers. there's more in this au but I'll make another post then

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