#new tag if I write anything else

[strapped-and-beheaded]

Avarage therapy appointment with Charlotte and Harper

f!Harper/f!PC | 1600 words | 18+ cw: past noncon, current dubcon, implied drug (mis)use, intentionally triggering trauma responses, medical malpractice, harper should be enough of a content warning by herself tbh.

"If you will, could you start from the beginning?"

"okay... I climbed the fence to leave, just to see if I could, since I wouldn't get in trouble now. then I walked around for a bit-"

"didn't you skip something?"

"huh..? oh. right. someone attacked me just as I left, I guess. It didn't feel real, somehow, it was over before I processed what was happening I think. I really don't feel anything about it."

Harper nods in response, Charlotte feels it more than she sees it in their position. too close she'd need her glasses to see her face, tho her vision's already blurred, and her head too heavy to lift.

"Please continue" the good doctor urges her to continue talking, so Charlotte does.

She recalls walking around town aimlessly, staring at shops through windows, seeing where was hiring. All she could find was the cafe, but by the time she got there she was distracted.

Ocean, despite living close enough that the smell of it fades into the background of the town, she's never got to spend time there.

It's been orphanage to school then back for all her life. The ocean was always behind car windows struggling to peek between buildings, or a sliver of blue you try to catch from the top floor of the orphanage, once again behind glass.

Then there it is, so vast Charlotte wonders how it could have ever fit behind those tiny windows. The breeze ruffles her hair, salt smell finally obvious to her, the sun beating down on the waves bright enough to blind…

Charlotte hangs onto that memory, tries to hold onto the feeling of sand getting in her school shoes, hair getting in her face, her classmates laughter, Robin's smile and wave as she closes shop.

Sunset, leaving her frozen in place as she watches the sun dip into the water, painting it and the sky orange, clouds turning her favorite shade of pink. She tries to grasp at them, trying to last them longer, but there isn't anything solid she can hold there. She doesn't remember faces or names, she doesn't remember what was so entertaining that she let the whole day pass by on the beach.

The day does end, it gets dark, feels cold in her sundress, she remembers Bailey's word to not wander outside at night so she waits for a bus.

...

She really should have taken a map with her, her sense of direction was never good, she knows by now the walk from the beach to the orphanage is so short, God.

through the pain of a broken arm and panic and just the need to get home, everything blurred so much she didn't recognize a single building, single road, the town she grew up in really was a stranger to her all along, huh? God.

Why would she take the fucking bus again, if she just, God, if she just walked maybe. God. God. God.

She tries to plead, turning to Harper, who's sitting next to her on the bus, the doctor places her hand on her thigh, somehow it's not comforting.

The world behind the window is pitch black, the bus feels too long, the seats upon seats in a row stretching until she can neither see the back door or the driver, she looks at the other passengers, despite her best effort she cannot make out any faces.

Harper's hand rides higher, creeping under her skirt, Charlotte wants to grab her wrist, but her arms hang limp beside her body. "Please continue" the doctor says, Charlotte wants anything but, her stomach drops when she feels fingers stroking her through her panties.

she calls out for help, from Harper? from God? just anyone? for what?

Someone grabs her arm, her eyes flash white from the pain, being thrown onto the bus floor doesn't hurt compared to her arm, she can't do anything but try to protect it as- as the-

she feels the bone under skin, it's sticking out wrong, this is when she realised her arm really was broken, and that she should be getting to the hospital instead, but all she can do is lay there until people are finished with her.

Everyone's watching, from their seats, she can't make out a single face, she can barely see anything, everything is a blur, it just hurts.

"Can't you recall any more details?" Harper asks with a kiss on the cheek, no not a kiss exactly, that's her tongue, Charlotte's head is too foggy to think anything of it, somehow it feels comforting.

"I can't, I don't even remember getting home" "Bailey brought you to the hospital, I fixed your arm, remember?" Charlotte looks at the doctor's blurry face, no recognition, Harper huffs trying not to show displeasure at what she managed to remember and forget.

she pushes Charlotte to lay down, more so loosens her grip and lets her fall back into the hospital bed, her hair streams down and pools on the floor.

"What's the next thing you remember?" Charlotte continues staring blankly "what was your school life like?" "... it was fine" "and your work?" "I think.. I did housekeeping?.. Doctor I mean it, nothing, I don't remember anything"

Harper climbs closer, eclipsing the too bright ceiling light, it's some relief to Charlotte, not enough to offset the spike of anxiety over being straddled by the doctor.

"Do you remember how you ended up breaking your cast?" Charlotte grimaces, but doesn't reply, looking beyond Harper "as your doctor I need you to be fully open with me, I can't help you if you don't let me" "you... you seem to know enough already" Charlotte tries to say, the doctor's smile doesn't falter

Harper traces a line from her knees, through her thigh, to her stomach, moving up to her bare chest, Charlotte can't even twitch or jump at the feeling of cold fingers. Muscles left slack, one of her legs hang off the bed, it feels so heavy she can't imagine lifting it, yet Harper hooks her hand under her knee and moves her so easily.

"can you try a bit harder to remember, for me, Charlene?" she stops breathing, she can't even voice her complaint.

her arm was grasped again, the painkillers couldn't help to dampen the pain then, it punched the air out of her lungs, she couldn't scream. yet she still fought, not from bravery, just blind with panic.

the feeling of his hands were so vivid once, every single digit and every single action he took, every inch of skin he stained. she used to feel it crawling under her skin, but they're so faint now, Harper can't wring out any more details, she doesn't remember anything.

she doesn't know when she stopped fighting, whether being penetrated made her give up or the pain overwhelmed her. She never knew how she got out, she must have fell unconcious eventually.

then she's at the beach again, the waves climbing up her legs, too lazy to drag her back in. the ocean could swallow her, in the darkness of the night no one would see, people drown silently too right?

but the sun starts to rise, orange light intrudes on the stars, the sea illuminates like fire, the tides retreat as she hears food steps. instead of more unremembered faces she'd regret asking for help from, she looks up to see Harper.

"that's all you can remember?" she asks, standing with her arms folded behind her, same smile still plastered on her face, Charlotte wonders if she ever stops smiling "it is." she replies bluntly, she would like to forget more.

watching the sun reclaim it's place in the sky, Charlotte makes no move to get up, still looking to the ocean to see if it will finish the job it started.

So Harper kneels down to her, clammy hands craddle her face, she doesn't fight back, limbly letting the doctor kiss her. it's only a peck for now "should I increase your dosage?" it sounds more like she's pondering to herself than asking the patient's opinion.

"I won't take them, if you do" she complains before Harper's on her again "you shouldn't pick and choose your prescription like that" despite smiling still, the doctor chastizes with a pinch on her nipple, Charlotte yelps weakly.

Her limbs don't have the energy to push the doctor away from roughly fondling her chest. Lifting her arm off the bed takes so much, and all she can manage is basically petting the other blond's shoulder. She feels Harper smile against her lips at the effort.

Charlotte closes her eyes, her head feels so heavy, like her skull's overstuffed, she's so tired.

she almost dozes off, or at least something like it, but cold fingers stroking her clit brings her back. "doctor..." she whines into her mouth, then another yelp is ripped out of her throat as two fingers push into her.

Harper moans more than her as she deepens the kiss, Charlotte shivers "please... doctor..!" keeping a coherent thought is hard, she doesn't know what exactly she's pleading for, she can barely muster thoughts.

The knots in her stomach tighten, she barely notices Harper pull back from the kiss. wiping drool off her chin, she looks down at Charlotte with a crescent grin, staring at her lips like it's taking all she has to stop herself from latching unto her face again.

"now, Charlotte" she breathes a little heavy "could you restart from the beginning?"

[stellewriites]

fem!141 thirst traps

simon: he doesn’t take it himself, is mid-way through his routine when one of the lads takes it and sends it to him with the suggestion of forwarding it on to you.

he does so with an unrelated text, “be home in half hour. leg day tomorrow :(” and he doesn’t think anything of it until you send back a stream of 👀 & 💦 emojis and ask him to keep you fully updated with before and after pics of tomorrow’s leg progress. all angles, you specify.

price: you message her first, a curious “wuu2?” in hopes of curing your boredom, and boy does she fix it. she doesn’t mean for it to be a thirst trap but the casual show of height and strength in her relaxed posture has your interest piquing immediately and you’re bugging her for the next hour for more snippets into her gym routine until she finally catches on and sends you a steamy photo in the gym showers with a promise to come occupy your time in person.

gaz: she’d message you at stupid o’clock, something baity like “just finished my usual yoga routine, but it’s not hitting like it used to 😪 we should try couples yoga, don’t you think? you said you’ve been feeling tight recently, i can help with that.”

and i mean the flash of bicep and tease of bush was enough to turn you to putty but the idea of getting a little stretching done under her hands was certainly something you’d never say no to either.

johnny: johnny’s surprisingly clothed in hers; as long as she can flash the nipple piercings and the size of her hands, she’s golden. flexing and keeping her trackies low slung to flash a tan line is just the cherry on top, a little extra to reel you in.

it’s probably the only time she's subtle; as soon as you reply anything vaguely complimentary or suggestive she's sending absolute filth right back - whether it’s in voice notes, scrambled texts, pics of her hand down her pants or pulling at the collar of her sports bra to flash her tits. she just needed the suggestion of permission before getting started.

alternatives:

johnny/gaz: i think they’d like a bit of competition between themselves, would send it to you with a cheeky lilt to the message, “who’s been working harder, babe?” or maybe “who looks better?” if they’ve riled each other up too much and need a third opinion to decide who’s made the most progress since they’re lifting pretty much the same weight and their stamina is just about level.

when you reply a flirty, “think we’ll have to run some tests at home” they don’t waste time finishing their sets before leaving.

simon: he rarely sends a posed selfie but when you request it (and maybe send an example photo of yourself first) he’ll oblige with his face covered.

finds it funny when you promptly send it back with red circles dotted all over and an almost blunt text, “this is where i’m going to bite you when you get home”, only there isn’t really any patch of skin you haven’t circled twice over.

price: she’s another one, like simon, that’s likely to have the lads take a candid photo and suggest she sends it to her missus. price would be in the locker room, half changed and laughing at something soap was saying when she catches gaz out of the corner of her eye.

it’s takes all three of them badgering her to send it unlike simon who did it without needing much convincing. but she’s glad to have given in when you send your own gym selfie back - tight workout shorts practically eaten up by the curves of your arse and thick thighs. one hand is pulling up your baggy shirt so she gets an unhindered view and she can see your cheeky smile in the reflection of the mirror.

[multifandom-nerds-blog]

Where are all the Sakamoto days found family fics? Hello? Especially with Shin starting to live with them and everything? Excuse me?

EXCUSE ME?

I really just gotta do everything on my own here. What the hell.

[dreamsy990]

unsent letter to a long-dead father

[onethousxndvoices]

took a break from my main projects to do some visdev practice. have a line up for a layton fic that'll probably never see the light of day

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of sandra lynn and sklonda from fantasy high. sklonda is sitting on sandra lynn's chest in her underwear and caressing sandra lynn's face. sandra lynn is naked and holding sklonda's thighs. neither woman's face is visible as they're looking at each other. the background is pink and says, how did you get infected? End ID]

[milolunde]

We all know Timmy is Wanda’s mama’s boy but we need to keep in mind he’s still Cosmo’s kid too and that Cosmo would love him just as vehemently as Wanda

[raindropren]

Shinyduo doodle/sketch comp :3 (there's like,,, 8 of em?)

soup! pearlo's holdin the soup, what they talkkinn boutt? idk.

I just thought this doodle of s10 gem was funny. why she smirking?

I just wanted to draw them being silly and happy!! :D

I didn't actually look at their s10 skins/outfits for this so I was making stuff up at some point, anyways, Pickles!

I didn't actually watch the amongus stream,,, but I think it's silly,,

wanted to draw a closer interaction pose for the two! if I'm gonna be obsessed with drawing a duo together, I'm gonna try to get some improvement out of it! either way, gossip?

Head bop? head boop? head bump? i think it might be head bump but I don't like saying it outloud? weird,, either way!! Inspired by something I've seen a couple pets(cats or dogs normally) do where they just bump their tiny head into their human's forehead, it's cute :]

I have no clue what this song is but it is stuck in my head!!!!!! I probably heard it on an insta reel and now it's stuck in there. She's my bestfriend, best of all best friends!(do you want a best friend too?) ba bow bow,,

These were all done in the last, like couple days to a week? idk. but ya! I have like three pages of kinda bad shinyduo sketches now lol, anyways! Them!! :D

[spotaus]

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.

[kandicon]

*writes the same exact headcannons in slightly different scenarios over and over again*

[seventh-district]

.

[happilyclassytimetravel]

------- These untold feelings -------

Chapter 2.1

• He doesn't repeal me

Oliver .. Oliver was his name heard it when his dad called him .

Oliver's personal has a lot to be said Abt

But if I have to best define him we can take the current situation at hand

Oliver was sitting next to Matt . The bully.

Matt: don't you think this match is a epic?( He screamed)

Oliver. This dude a 5'9 . Black jacket. Mess hair. Black shorts. Quite defined legs n his back on me. Wearing his huge black headphones . The ones that r wired n not wireless. The ones which r definitely not connected. I could tell . He was not interested at all in anything. He pushed his headpiece on the side of his ear n with his Lotus petaled shaped eyes looked towards Matts way and gestured what . Matt with his annoying ass voice said his words the 2 nd time with a Higher volume then the first . Rachel almost fall of her chair . And he gave a nod. That was kinda forced.

Well if Matts was to discover that Oliver has the audacity to ignore him. Istg he would have the pretty boy .. totally spoiled . Matt continued with his sidekick. N Oliver continued with his ignorance.

I couldn't help but find it funny

Was he dumb or deaf ?

Or was he both . ?

Why does he want to challenge Matt. ?

Oliver matched the vibe . His sunkiss smooth skin. With his defined jaw line . N that ohh soo messy hair would have made him an hunk .

The match was coming to an end . I had only on thing in my pretty head . N it was undoubtedly the great OLIVER PRINCETON.

I was mentally exhausted thinking about him. I couldn't help but get disgusted abt this thoughts. I was definitely annoyed of him. Or else why would I think abt him .

I must be crazy .

I wouldn't help but think how might he smile. Would it be worth-a-while. Everything i thought was soo confusing yet clear . I knew for the horror of it . I had fallen. Fallen just like the rain that poured that evening. Fallen for some fallen angel. That probably descend from the hells.

But wht did I fall for

The dumb guy or the deaf one ? Who dared to offend Matt.

As the match ended the ground area was getting cleared. The heavy rain had finished his session one . N was getting ready for the next horrific Strom.

The incomplete story my deaf and dumb guy had . That I was to be soon to know abt. About the OLIVER PRINCETON.

Who had.... Offended Matt in a very visible rang.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

To be continued

Next epd.

Matt holds Olivers collar in a why ?

This is chapter 2 .

Thank u for reading till hear . If u have reached on this part that means u have actually appreciate my work . I can't thank u more. Idk wht I find this a lil bit time waste. N pls thanks for your time. I am sorry if u didn't like it. I am still trying to be good .

If you r confused wht is going on then u can read the before chapter to relate.

Thank you have a nice day ^⁠_⁠^

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[berryblu-soda]

Anyways update i just didnt bother to post earlier:

fr God is good and the whole car crash my parents got into last week was so incredibly mild in terms of injuries!!!! worst was a bruised knee im pretty sure

ALSO-

*taps mic* HUG YOUR FREAKING LOVED ONES OR SO HELP ME!!!!!!!

[bonestrouslingbones]

now realizing that i haven't seen an edgepuff fic any longer than a oneshot since fucking. 2022. and not even a oneshot since 2023. god.

[kanerallels]

Hera and Ezra + Ezra as the Avatar AU

My pleasure vod! Have a little scenario that's been living rent free in my head for a while now

(Set after this)

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Hera asked, nodding to the chair across from her. “You can have some breakfast.”

Realizing how hungry he was, Ezra crossed the pavilion and dropped into the seat. Hungrily, he applied himself to the plate Hera slid to him. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “For everything.”

“My pleasure,” Hera said. “Kanan’s an old friend, so letting you two stay here is the least I can do.”

Swallowing hastily, Ezra said, “Right— where is Kanan?”

Pouring herself a cup of tea, Hera nodded out towards the garden beyond them. “Over there.”

Ezra followed her gesture towards the garden. A winding path led away from the pavilion, disappearing into the foliage. Not far away was a small pond, with a waterfall leading into it from a stream above.

Kanan was standing there, ankle deep in the water. His eyes were closed, and instead of the battered travel clothing he’d worn the day before, he wore a sleeveless green  shirt and gray pants. 

As Ezra watched, he moved, his gestures easy and graceful. While Ezra wouldn’t have recognized the movements off hand, he knew Korra, looking on inside his head, did. And the water flowing up around him, spinning in elegant spirals and curves, made it obvious.

“I’ve never seen him waterbend like this,” Ezra said slowly. “He’s only ever used it when he has to.”

“I know,” Hera said. “I asked him about it once. He says that here, he’s… safe. He doesn’t have to use it to fight, or defend himself from the hatred towards benders. This is the only place he can use his power without preparing for battle.”

“Huh,” Ezra said. “He must really trust you.”

He looked back at Hera in time to see an odd, emotional smile crossing her face. “I hope he does,” was all she said, sipping from her tea.“Ohhh,” Korra said. “So they’re in love, in love. I get it.”