#but you know what i support him <3< /div>
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francis-ford-kofola · 1 year ago
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Superman (1978) original costume sketches by Yvonne Blake
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vaguely-concerned · 1 month ago
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huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.
(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)
it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.
love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)
such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?
one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.
follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.
through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.
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romanticatheartt · 4 months ago
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So unhinged and horny😭💀
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Feyre:
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kwillow · 5 months ago
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will theo ever be happy
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Maybe in another life.
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mohntilyet · 2 months ago
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Personal headcanon about the "you picked the wrong dellamorte" line, I don't think illario actually likes rook outside the context of them being someone close to lucanis. Like rook on their own isn't much to him, but when they meet it's yet another person talking about his cousin (why isn't he good enough for whatever job they're hiring for?) and on top of that they somehow bring him back from the dead (another whole can of worms for illario). Now he starts turning on the charm, but whether he's actually interested or this is just one more thing his cousin has that he doesn't and it gets under his skin, who knows. Either way, rook ignores illario, the guy who lives off his charm, and is instead interested in the guy who's never even dated before and thinks giving someone a knife is how to flirt. Infuriating
NO THANK YOU !! i am genuinely sorry if i have ever implied illario is into rook like i see some takes about it and unless it like ties into your rook's personal backstory i don't seriously think he's romantically jealous. at all. my enjoyment of that line stems from illario's pathological need to make it about himself and not see his strengths but what lucanis has, and therefore what he doesn't. he's annoyed enough to try and goad you in the middle of a fight about the 'wrong' dellamorte and completely blind to the fact that the venatori are at best, a stupid fucking alliance, and at worst, a cult that will devour the crows from the inside out and illario would have been the one to give them the keys. he sees lucanis make allies, needs his own, and instead of charming the other talons/houses as he should, he (probably spitefully) picks the venatori. or maybe he just thought it would be easier. ugh he makes me want to telekenetically throw him around
#and you raise a very hilarious point too LMFAO#not that he is jealous. just mad as hell its not working <3 I LIKE HIM VERY MUCH AND A NORMAL AMOUNT#to be clear i think his characterisation changed dramatically from wigmaker's job and a lot of his uh#very rash decisions about achieving power feels like they just needed a traitor character for lucanis#to really max out the use of spite. i really wish honestly that there was some canon support for illario#who would probably be a little more liked/popular than lucanis. bc lucanis is respected by the crows#but he's also a very distant 'dellamorte heir' figure. respect is not the same as being liked. so you know#there's the serious assassin with a rep for how good he is at killing#and there's a friendlier assassin with a rep for sweet talking#and neither of those reputations are necessarily true. but i know which one i'd be less afraid of#and i think illario would know that. and be able to use that. BUT WE DONT GET IT. WHATEVER.....#illario dellamorte#veilguard spoilers#answered#also we're introduced to an illario that understands being a crow. and has had all that drilled into him since childhood#why. would he. ally with the venatori.#why would he put himself into a situation that he couldnt control. other than 'the story needs a villain'#what im trying to say. is . there were the makings of a crow civil war here that ends with him tragically dead#if you asked me to expand on this i dont think i could. but like the main issue being the crows not standing together making#the antaam invasion worse (btw regarding this why the fuck were the antaam even invading) so lucanis' quest is#idk. something like uniting the crows together and potentially repairing his relationship w illario#or hardening him and convincing he needs to kill illario#this is me spitballing. dont even mind me#(glances at the 'illario mention' alarm going off in the background)#EDIT: AND ALSO IT JUST CAME TO ME#killing illario as an ending also makes lucanis first talon (oh we're really in the cycles now)#forgiving illario ends with illario becoming 'talon' tho he and lucanis work closely. like a ceo vs cfo#and ends with them repairing their relationship#in the ideal world lucanis would fully leave but im alright with crows making small steps towards becoming a bit healthier
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lilacpaperbird · 5 months ago
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I was watching college move-in day videos and I got sad thinking about Sam arriving at Stanford all alone with a worn-out duffle bag as his only companion. Imagine him standing there, watching other students arrive with their families — dads helping with the heavy luggage, moms making sure they didn't forget anything, both parents hugging their kid goodbye...... :(((((
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torahtot · 2 months ago
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you can always tell when someone doesn't have maga men in their life and god it makes me angry.. "if you're nice and compassionate you can be the one woman that makes them realize women aren't mean!" my mom bent over backwards for my dad for 25 fucking years he has plenty of other women kissing his ass and it never changed anything. do you really think that before being radicalized they never knew a single kind woman? they were never friends with a nice girl? alt-right men's problem with women isn't just that they've experienced too many mean women and they need to be shown that women can be nice, it's that they think women are inferior and don't deserve rights and don't understand anything so you can do what you want with them. and it takes a lot more than being nice to show someone that you aren't inferior. this isn't a case of being nice even when it's hard for the sake of deradicalization, it's about spending every fucking interaction with someone trying to get them to see you as a human being with value and a functioning intellect while they just laugh and show you that's never going to happen.
i cannot stress this enough: random women are not just going out and Being Mean to men. ur average guy interacts with plenty of women throughout his life- close women amongst their friends and family, casual interactions etc. most people don't start out being shunned by women, they start out being treated as NORMAL. & when they show their disrespect in normal society, it isn't tolerated, but when they go to alt-right spaces (which they're pushed towards online) they're told they're allowed to be as horrible as they want with no consequences because they're entitled to everything. it isn't "women aren't welcoming and the alt-right is so friendly so i'll become alt-right," it's "women don't let me disrespect them and the alt-right tells me fuck them, do whatever you want, you're entitled to it all" and why would you choose the group where you have to be a normal accountable person when there's a group that will reward you for being a shithead who gives no fucks?
the alt-right can afford to be more friendly and welcoming because they can allow bigotry. this can't work the same way for progressive spaces because we can be as kind & welcoming as possible but at the end of the day we have lines where we have to say "this behavior/speech isn't allowed in this space," and for certain people, that just can't win against a space where you can be as nasty as you want. these posts always end with a disclaimer saying "of course being kind doesnt mean you need to tolerate their bigotries" but what they don't realize and what drives me crazy is that women not tolerating bigotry IS the "women are mean" that radicalized them in the first place. they perceive you pushing back on any bigotry or bullshit as you being a meanie and treating them like they're ontologically evil. the 'kindness' they need to be deradicalized is you letting them walk all over you.
idk what the answer is to deradicalizing them and im sure relationships are part of it but you can be as kind as you want and all it will do is destroy you ime. i cant stand to see people (who have never even successfully deradicalized any man by being nice btw they always speak in hypotheticals and not from experience) double down on telling women to do things that will see no results and only hurt them, especially when any woman who has tried can tell you exactly how it went
#being as nasty as possible & shitting on everyone while giving no fucks makes you popular in certain spaces. that's tempting no matter what#to immature ppl. part of growing up is learning that you cant do that and real relationships need you to not do that#but that sucks. you could just ignore it and join the alt-right to be a manchild forever#if ur an asshole who wld u wanna hang out with: ur wife who says please dont be an asshole to me or ur bros who say she's a hysterical bitc#& u did nothing wrong?#if u had a maga dad/brother/uncle & u heard the way they talk about women its never abt being mean lol#it's abt how women are hysterical & sensitive & get upset at everything they do#im so sorry but a normal guy (i know & am friends with many) doesnt simply become an MRA because his girl friends made 1 men suck joke#if a guy truly has no fulfilling friendships with women or girls to the point where some feminist group 'being too mean' can radicalize him#bc he doesnt have any kind women in his life to prove that wrong. he already had issues.#you reach a certain point in your friendship with these guys where youve been SO kind and so supportive and welcoming and played therapist#for ages and then they turn around and say 'im voting trump cuz i like his personality better lol i dont care about rights and that bs'#even if you can deradicalize someone by being kind thats years of insane unreciprocated energy for ONE guy#who will end up being the person who never posts abt feminism except to say i became alt right because women were mean so be nice girls!#nobody tells anyone else to accept full blown bigots in their spaces either much less BEFRIEND them#bc nobody is expected to do this kind of service except women. <3#eat ass.
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mcytegg · 2 months ago
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you can love a character and still admit when they're wrong. i love roshambogames but can acknowledge his flaws (he has none) & can hold him accountable for his wrongdoings (he’s never done anything wrong in his life) & call him out for his actions (which are always correct)
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messiahzzz · 1 year ago
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When I came across that "joke" from Tav to Quill and Z'rell's comment (plus Halsin), I had to take a minute to process what happened. Gale might be a bit silly and eccentric but he's the kindest, sweetest and most passionate character in that party. No wonder the poor man has deep insecurities to solve, so many people reduce him to an easy target! Ofc one of the side effects would be overconfidence and ambition as a defense mechanism. He's obv lonely; only Tara and Morena ever loved him for him.
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his eccentric nature might be a part of it. he is loquacious, outgoing, and doesn’t see the point in hiding his enthusiasm. he is considered to be the weird one. naturally, wizards in general being seen as somewhat squishy and physically weak might also add to it.
personally, i really don’t like the implications of the (widely considered) autistic-coded character being the one who faces the most ridicule by far by other characters and fans (and larian) alike.
some might disagree with me on that, but i don’t find it funny by any means either. mostly it just makes me feel bad. “he deserves it. cocky, arrogant, hubris-ridden wizard needs to be taken down a peg” like he isn’t… y’know… already at his lowest. it also disregards the fact that much of his bravado is part of his carefully curated Great Wizard of Waterdeep™ persona that he has skillfully adopted to mask his general feeling of being defective. being fiercely proud of your skill and knowledge and being doubtful of having something truly worthwhile to offer are mindsets that can coexist. according to fandom, gale is either secret hubris incarnate that is only waiting to be unleashed upon the world or pure baby that can do no wrong. instead of a character that is just as flawed and traumatized as all the others, but no less deserving of genuine love.
to me, the constant ridicule just reads as further feeding into his deep-rooted insecurities and his belief that he (as gale, the person) isn’t someone who holds inherent worth. it really, really doesn’t sit well with me.
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twinstxrs · 7 months ago
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thinking about kageyama’s “it’s the setter’s job to break the wall in front of the spiker” in reference to how kenma sponsoring hinata while he’s in brazil and onwards is effectively doing that on a financial level. once a setter always a setter.
#could talk about how the narrative purpose of every setter (at least in hinata’s story) reflects the idea of breaking a wall in front of him#for hours i think#i want to do a full manga read to fully think about that but#atsumu & hinata’s feeling that he needs kageyama. kenma & just the financial logistics of being able to go to brazil. oikawa & homesickness#obviously there’s more going on w/ all the characters but like. those 3 & kageyama (obviously) all have at least one big thing they help-#hinata overcome. kageyama has so many of these moments w/ hinata i’d have to rewatch & list them all but yea.#akaashi is also this but for bokuto. (bokuto is this for akaashi as well)#(& if we’re talking setters & spikers obviously hinata is that for kageyama. Obviously. they’re soulmates)#i know this is lowkey just me analyzing the concept of support which a team sport series is inevitably filled to the brim with#but with a lot of what i consider to be hinata’s big character moments… it’s always setters man. & that feels deeply intentional.#& takeda obviously but he’s the coach. that is his Narrative Purpose#i wonder if there’s something strong to be said about main characters positions within the team & their strongest overall narrative purposes#like ‘libero’ meaning free in italian & nishinoya & freedom being his Whole Thing. he goes to karasuno bc he likes the uniform!!#i’m curious if i took every character & took their position if i’d find a list of commonalities between their narrative purposes. idk!#but yea anyways i dislike dumbing down hinata’s relationships w/ his setters as like ‘omg setter harem’ as anything other than a light joke#but hinata & setters is such a big deal. almost all my favorite hinata dynamics are with setters i think & that’s bc of that importance#if anyone read this rant in the tags thank you for your time lol. happy birthday hinata i love you forever#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyū!!#hinata shouyou#hinata shoyo#kozume kenma
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hplonesomeart · 2 months ago
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Hey. Sorry about the inactivity, but pretty sure no one cared that much anyways lol. Been a looooong time since I kept that distant from Tumblr…at least now I know I’m able to survive without checking posts every day/being chronically online! I’ve got an intense love-hate relationship with this lifestyle I’ve dug myself into. Think I’m getting a little bit better with the balance even if school isn’t really giving me an option. Got a load of work I need to keep catching up on if I don’t want to disappoint my professors. We’ll survive somehow. Here take a quick batch of Puzzle doodles k bye
#the hell am I so anxious about? maybe it’s just overstimulation stuff#hoping it’ll die down because I can’t keep enjoying myself when I’m like this#seriously is starting to mess with my flight responses over the tiniest things#like yea obviously I needed to stay logged out of Tumblr so I would focus more on schoolwork#but uhhhh gonna be transparent and say a huge part of it is the jolts of anxiety :(#like even the thought of logging back here has caused me to feel like sweating#my brain kept saying ‘no I don’t want to I can’t do that’ even when I felt bad for missing out on others posts#like I want to be here so I can support my mutuals dammit!!!#I’m a mess. I’m such a broken mess oh great lovely spectacular#maybe the culminating stress of final exam deadlines is worsening stuff as well#I can’t tell you why I’m like this I just am 🙃#anyways thinking I’ll start adapting to the distance. Sorry but being a shut-in is more appealing right now#I just need time to be with myself and not be so invested in the lives of others#anyways what’s something mildly positive I can wrap this up with so I don’t seem pathetic….#ah yes the final Puzzle sketch here was drawn today before a class period#one of my fellow classmates noticed and audibly asked me ‘is that Mr. Puzzles?’#IT TOOK EVERTHING IN MY WILLPOWER TO NOT LET OUT A GIDDY SHRIEK#Felt like my eyes bulged and I jolted in enthusiasm jskjsksp spontaneous happiness?? actally experiencing the feeling of fitting in??#anyways I responded with a very normal ‘WAIT YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM???’ while trying to suppress grinning or going ‘teehee’#anyways now it’s my personal mission to keep initiating conversations with her because AUUUUUGH SHE KNOWS WHO HE IS I’M LOSING IT#proceeded to talk about Murder Drones & TADC like holy SHIT I didn’t think I would ever find animation peeps in my psychology class auuu 😭💜#it’s a MIRACLE man this may be a sign that college won’t be isolating anymore yaaaaayyy#PUZZLE IS SINGLE HANDILY HELPING ME TALK TO PEOPLE BOTH ONLINE AND IRL THIS IS WILD#all hail the best comfort character seriously holy shit—like imagine she never noticed me drawing Puzzles!! I’D STILL BE LONELY AS HELL#okay sorry I’ll stop typing like a teenager and go back to pretending to be well-versed in speech & conducting myself ‘normally’ :3#doodles#sketches#hplonesome art#not tagging with Puzzles because hahaaaaa don’t look at me
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swan2swan · 1 month ago
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Jurassic World + Disabilities and Limb Difference
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korshrimpski · 30 days ago
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a happy web weaving post: as an early gift in honour of the sabres snapping their losing streak
waiting, casual fan x sabres
and it's you and I trying all our lives to get this it's you and I giving all we have to build this we're running all our lives towards this
images: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
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kindlythevoid · 5 months ago
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(FotR, pg. 42)
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(FotR, pg. 74)
Guys Guys Guys Guys I know I know I KNOW we talk about Frodo and Sam's bond. Which is valid. Totally valid, I do it myself on occasion.
BUT.
BUT.
FRODO AND MERRY!!!!
FRODO PROBABLY GREW UP WITH MERRY!!! (I did the math cuz I'm a nerd) Merry was 7 when Frodo left to go live with Bilbo, but Frodo spent 9 years in Buckland!! He was there when Merry was born!! Merry hasn't known life without Frodo!!! Yes, Frodo was 21 when he left but he was in his "tweens" and probably still had to hang out with the younger kids aka MERRY!!!
Just. Look at them!! Frodo was a Respectable Gentlehobbit and Merry was one of those weird Brandybucks but they were both Adults and Frodo trusted Merry to find him a suitable house that he would supposedly retire in and Frodo didn't know that Merry knew that Frodo was leaving!! He just trusted Merry to get all the accounts settled and to find him a cute little house and he does!!! Merry does!!! He helps him find a house, he goes with the furniture to set it all up for Frodo when he gets there!! He even helps monitor everything that's being given away after Bilbo leaves and Frodo needs a moment!!
It's just. We're not even 100 pages in, they haven't left the Shire, but it's so blindingly obvious that Frodo trusts Merry and Merry looks out for Frodo, even though there's a 14 year age gap between them. They're friends, best friends, look at that first bit I put up there, they're joking around after Lobelia insulted Frodo and it's so natural, such a great little moment.
It's so. It's so obvious, right from the very beginning, like, of course Merry follows Frodo out of the Shire. It's not because Frodo's All That or anything, it's just that they're best friends and Merry cares for him and he wants to make sure he'll be alright. And I love that about Merry, I think it's a great character trait of his that you see again with Pippin. He loves them, so he follows them, even and especially into the unknown, but when it's their time to leave, to move on, he let's them. He keeps on loving them and trusting them, except this time it's trusting that they'll come back. And hoping that letting them know that they are loved will help them return.
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spotaus · 3 months 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.
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itissadbutitsmy-artblog · 1 year ago
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lemongrab (Starts vibrating so hard i explode)
i do think pb is calm now but i dont think she likes wizards. i dont know. i dont know. and i saw how she treated lemongrab, she didn't really like him either. like. you all saw that. peps didnt want to see that he didnt want to think about it at the time, how they were treating the actual literal heir to the throne and also just how they were treating this man, he didn't realize. he didn't. and now. and . dont .get me talking about lemongrab. or i will talk. for ever
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pep: you ate your brother lg: lg: you won't have that problem pep: i could eat you lg: try it
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