asukamood

[asukamood]

It makes my day imagining Dream fighting Nightmare after switching to his bow for the first time.

Nightmare: foolish Dream, only leading yourself to your downfall (evil talk yada yada)

Dream: *taking aim*

Nightmare: and I thought after all these battles you'll know better than to use such useless tool th- wait why is that arrow glowing.

Dream: *shoots*

Nightmare: OH MY DAYS WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK WAS TH- SH*T IT BURNS WH- WHERE THE F*CK DID HALF OF MY BODY GO!??

[asukamood]

I love you pookie you’re perfect

Schrödinger's Paradox

——

HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE @asukamood!!!!!!

In your honor, Dream has been hurt✨️

——

Sypnosis: Sometimes he still feels like parts of him are stuck in the statue he became so familiar with. Cemented to the ground, solid, leaving him hollow with a duty too big and a mind that can only take so much.

For the first time in his life, that night, Dream prayed.

Word count: 3.5k

Trigger warnings?: dissociation, brief reference of child neglect

Everyone has a limit.

Every human, monster, and those in between.

There was only so much one could take before they broke. The mind is a weak, weak thing. Ever so capable, yet the ease at which it can be broken down is baffling. One traumatic experience after the other was all it took to leave someone a shell of what they once were, and it wasn’t like that was hard to achieve.

Dream knew that very well.

A person whose life had been planned out from the very beginning, a lamb to the slaughter since his first breath.

For a guardian of positivity, he was far from being optimistic about his predicament. It’s quite difficult to be once you run out of things to use for distractions, 500 years and counting, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt in control.

Maybe it was the day he woke up from his stone prison. Merely a child, trapped in stone by the one he cared for the most. Very few moments left Dream feeling as helpless as he did back then, although there wasn’t anywhere to go once rock bottom was hit.

He remembers worrying about his brother’s whereabouts that day, uncertain and afraid of everything around him. Nothing looked the way he remembered, the land was barren and the village (or what used to be one) was reduced to nothing. The woman who freed him sounded strange, but she was the only other live presence near him.

Dream remembers trying to understand what she said, waiting for his chance to speak and ask where his family had gone- where everyone was, they wouldn’t have abandoned him so suddenly, would they? H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶l̶y̶ u̶s̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶ y̶e̶t̶.

When his eyes landed on the stump of the tree that once contained his mother’s spirit, time felt like it had frozen.

Between the throb of his aching limbs, the ringing in his head, and the sheer horror at the sight before him, he could no longer concentrate. He didn’t notice the lack of oxygen in his system until black spots had begun to cloud his vision, head heavy and heart aching. The woman yanked on his cape in an attempt to get his attention back,scoffing as he fell without a word. T̶h̶e̶ g̶l̶a̶r̶e̶ s̶h̶e̶ g̶a̶v̶e̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶a̶r̶ t̶o̶o̶ r̶e̶m̶i̶n̶i̶s̶c̶e̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶s̶ f̶o̶r̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶.

She introduced herself as Lanny, a supposed friend of his mother’s, an ‘aunt’ of his. The name felt slightly familiar, but it rang no bells.

It was safe to say she made sure he’d never forget her after that.

As if his confusion and fear weren’t enough, her words stung like knives. She didn’t take long to tell him what he missed, straight to the point, like she always is.

“Your brother is dead.”

Dream refused to believe her at first, in fact, he had laughed at her words. Her glare sharpened as the situation truly sunk in, his mind bringing all the memories from before his ‘coma’ rushing at him.

The villagers chanting, his brother’s screams, the sickening sound of bones shattering, his pleas, he wanted to throw up.

His last words.

“Don’t forget who I used to be”

Don’t forget who I used to be.

Don’t forget who I used to be.

Ḏ̴̢̱̩̩̙̜̘̯̣̰͎͖̖͇̂̇̈́̂̈́̈́̊̃̂͒͐̌͝O̸̡͙̤̠͙̻̭̖̲̲̣̖͉̒̃̔͐̏̔Ń̶̡̨̧̹̯͔̼̝͓̻̫̪̜̒̎̅̓͊’̷̛͔͎̼̽́͒̆̀͒̇͐̇̀̕͜͝͠͠Ṱ̴̨̙̝̱́̒̈̈́̄͆̈́ ̴̘̲̘̓͊͝͝F̶̠͈̹͔̫̰̈́̓͋͒̅̀̏̋̆̑̍͝ͅƠ̴̡̮̖̺̟̟̈̈́̀̍̀̔͐̍̐̆̕͜͝R̸̢̛̫̳̬̗̠̣̗̿͝͠Ǵ̷̡̙̩͔͎̼̞̻̫̫̬̜̽̈́̽͌̽͊̀͂̀͆̽̄͝ͅE̷͈̥͉͓͙̞̓̌͊̈͐̾̆̃̾̽̈ͅͅT̵̡̢̬̜͉̣͈̖̟̟̟̻̼̳̿̓̏͗͋͑͌̔͘-̵͖͓̪̹̈́̂̊

He never felt so lost in his life.

Maybe it was the first time he felt another person’s feelings instead of his own.

Emotions are a complicated concept but one he considered himself good at understanding his entire life. T̶h̶a̶t̶ i̶s̶, u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ i̶t̶ a̶c̶t̶u̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶e̶d̶. H̶i̶s̶ i̶g̶n̶o̶r̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ l̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶, h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ d̶e̶s̶e̶r̶v̶e̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶m̶p̶l̶a̶i̶n̶.

It was during the first ‘lesson’ Lanny had given him. The woman didn’t explain her reasoning, nor did she truly teach him anything.

She would attack and he would need to defend himself, a moment of hesitation would simply mean the end.

If it were just physical he could’ve handled it, he wasn’t normal by any means, but being unbelievably disoriented with the new sensations did him no favor.

He paused, he tried to ask for help, clarification, but all he got in return was a mouth full of blood and more bruises.

To put it simply: she was ruthless. By the end, he was sore all over, more disoriented than he was before.

It did him no good, it felt less like training and more like he was getting beaten up everyday as a way for her to take her anger out. She constantly reminded him how he was part of the main reason his mother was forever gone, he couldn’t deny it either. Selfishly, he wanted to believe he did nothing wrong. She was his mother, she was meant to be there, yet she never was.

Part of him understood why Nightmare had decided to cut her, and it made him feel like the worst person alive.

She wasn’t fully alive, she wasn’t capable like they were. They existed only because of that, no more, no less. To carry out a job she was too weak to do alone because of those around them.

She never wanted children.

I̶f̶ a̶ g̶r̶o̶w̶n̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ h̶a̶n̶d̶l̶e̶ i̶t̶, w̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ h̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ s̶i̶x̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶ o̶l̶d̶ c̶h̶i̶l̶d̶r̶e̶n̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶?̶

Maybe that was Lanny’s way of making him repay her, for all the trouble he had put her through, all the problems he caused and never even tried to fix.

Simply paying the price for the pain he caused.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶ c̶h̶i̶l̶d̶. S̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶s̶a̶n̶d̶s̶ o̶f̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ o̶l̶d̶. S̶h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.

His body felt like it was on fire, the first day he couldn’t help but cry to himself. It hurt, his chest felt like it was going to burst, but he couldn’t stop.

The tears didn’t stop coming, making everything worse.

Eventually, they stopped. His energy was lower than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to rest. It was unbelievably cold, all alone without anyone near him.

No one to sit by, no one to speak to, no one for comfort.

He had to grow some tolerance to the cold, as Lanny said. If he was going to survive he needed to be able to handle some weather conditions or else he had no chance.

As time passed, he found himself tracing cracks in his bones.

Being a statue for so long doesn’t come without consequence. Stone withers, so did his bones. Tiny parts of his fingers had been chipped off, lengthy cracks down his arms and some even reaching his legs.

Ironically enough, his face, if not counting the damage Lanny did, was untouched.

His clothing and gloves covered all the damage, the pressure they put on his bones helped him ignore the sensation a little more easily. It wasn’t like they’d heal for a long time, but he had no choice there.

Sometimes he still feels like parts of him are stuck in the statue he became so familiar with. Cemented to the ground, solid, leaving him hollow with a duty too big and a mind that can only take so much.

For the first time in his life, that night, Dream prayed.

Never once had things gone easy, but he was desperate for a change.

He had always been the desperate type, though.

Hadn’t he?

The most familiar feeling to him was a sense of hopeless desperation. It was the only part of himself that he could pick out when his own feelings were overcrowded by other people’s in his vicinity.

A need he choked on constantly, a yearning on the tip of his tongue that he never truly got out.

He ignored the way his hands went numb, his knees scraping against the ground, blood seeping from every wound left on him. He wasn’t sure how long it was that he stayed in that position, but in the safety of only his own presence, he poured everything out.

He begged as tears rolled down once more, begged that this would all end soon and that he would go back to how things used to be before.

What he would give to take away all the pain his brother had gone through.

He could handle it, he deserved it, he’s the reason for the way things ended up.

If he was a better sibling, if he tried harder, if he spent more time with him, maybe they would’ve still been at the tree, laughing with eachother.

Maybe their mother would’ve been there.

Maybe the villagers would have been nicer.

Treated them better.

Heartbreak followed him wherever he went. A defining part of him. He had plenty to be heart broken about, didn’t he?

The loss of everything when his life had just begun.

He never got the chance to live, never had his first friendship, never had a home.

He never even got to understand himself before everything crumbled.

It left a gaping hole inside of him, one nothing could fill.

Time passed, Lanny left him alone, but the effects of her actions lasted.

It wasn’t until he came face-to-face with the monster that had taken his brother as a vessel that he understood.

Understood the true impact his actions had.

The reason for her insistence.

The malice in her voice.

The most naive part of him believed his brother was still there. That maybe, just maybe, he could have the final conversation he wanted so badly with the other before everything crumbled, but all he got instead was a sickening sense of grief.

A sense of impending doom.

It took him what felt like an eternity to breathe again, but even then, the air felt unbearably heavier than before.

T̶h̶e̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ i̶n̶ f̶r̶o̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶ w̶a̶s̶ i̶n̶ n̶o̶ w̶a̶y̶ h̶i̶s̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶. I̶t̶'s̶ s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶s̶, t̶h̶e̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ i̶n̶ i̶t̶s̶ e̶y̶e̶, i̶t̶ s̶h̶o̶o̶k̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶s̶ c̶o̶r̶e̶.

W̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ i̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶ f̶a̶l̶l̶ a̶p̶a̶r̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶?̶ H̶i̶s̶ f̶r̶a̶g̶i̶l̶e̶ h̶o̶p̶e̶, u̶n̶a̶n̶s̶w̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ p̶r̶a̶y̶e̶r̶s̶, t̶h̶e̶ w̶e̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ o̶f̶ i̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶ l̶a̶i̶d̶ i̶t̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ t̶h̶i̶c̶k̶.

Fighting the very thing that turned his life upside down left him severely unsettled, that much was to be expected.

What wasn’t though, was the way it left him even more dazed than he had been for years before.

It claimed the name of his brother, but the idea of referring to it by that made him feel worse.

If it were a one time thing, he wouldn’t have been so shaken up, but the frequency of these encounters after Lanny had left him never left a chance to rest.

It didn’t take him long to realize it was hunting him down specifically.

H̶a̶d̶ i̶t̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶?̶

Every interaction left Dream feeling more distant than the last, like he was watching himself in third person. Always present, but not quite there.

With time, it became easier to retaliate, but the grief never left.

Every scar was a reminder of his failures.

Every word imprinted in his head.

Maybe, if he had learned of things earlier, he wouldn’t be fighting a parasite with a familiar face.

One wearing the past so clearly.

The world faded into a haze, it hurt less that way.

The idea of interacting with others whilst he was constantly chased sounded both exhausting and like more trouble than it was worth. Despite that, they never seemed to leave him.

His presence was comforting by nature, even attracting animals to him since he was a child. People would be no different. I̶s̶o̶l̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ w̶o̶r̶s̶e̶, b̶u̶t̶ h̶e̶ c̶r̶a̶v̶e̶d̶ i̶t̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶.

It wouldn’t have been such a problem if some of them didn’t become so..obsessive.

They wanted to feel good, he made it easy.

A simple prospect.

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ b̶e̶g̶i̶n̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶u̶n̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ n̶u̶m̶b̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶ h̶i̶m̶, t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶s̶, e̶v̶e̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶s̶e̶l̶v̶e̶s̶, t̶o̶ g̶e̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ s̶t̶a̶y̶.

N̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ o̶n̶c̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶i̶s̶ p̶e̶r̶s̶p̶e̶c̶t̶i̶v̶e̶ c̶o̶n̶s̶i̶d̶e̶r̶e̶d̶.

He didn’t get a say, he owed them it.

He was their guardian, if he couldn’t provide them the positivity to keep going with their days, who would?

If he wasn’t happy to do so, who would be?

If he wasn’t happy, how were they meant to believe they could ever be?

It didn’t matter what he did, said, wanted, none of it mattered. He had to stay and play the role he was assigned.

If not him, then who?

He didn’t need their comfort the way they needed his, he had time to get over it all.

He didn’t need companions, his presence was bound to catch up and hurt them eventually.

It was never just him.

When it finally did, some accused him of intentionally leading ‘Nightmare’ to them.

Intentionally harming them for everything.

Too selfish to help them, he tried to ‘get rid’ of them.

He didn’t argue, guilt made its presence known, but it had finally given him reason to go.

T̶h̶e̶ a̶c̶h̶e̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ a̶r̶m̶ h̶a̶d̶ p̶r̶e̶v̶i̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ h̶i̶m̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ h̶e̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ h̶e̶'d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ a̶d̶m̶i̶t̶. W̶h̶a̶t̶ a̶ w̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ f̶i̶n̶d̶ o̶u̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ r̶e̶s̶u̶l̶t̶s̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ h̶e̶s̶i̶t̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ L̶a̶n̶n̶y̶ w̶a̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ s̶o̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶s̶t̶.

In his daze, he didn’t focus on where he went, portal after portal to go somewhere far from others.

It wasn’t until someone tapped him on the shoulder and spoke that he realized how far he’d gone.

The other was unfamiliar, a face Dream hadn’t encountered before, nor did they seem to recognize who he was.

With a smile on his face, he introduced himself and asked about the place.

His question was answered quickly, but before he could ask their name back, he was getting dragged somewhere by his other arm.

T̶h̶e̶y̶ r̶e̶a̶l̶i̶z̶e̶d̶, d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶?̶

To his surprise, the other’s actions were caused by concern.

He was injured, yes, but it wasn’t easy to tell (with the exception of the arm he was missing as of mere moments ago. It wasn’t like it was bloody, his magic handled that very quickly).

They introduced themselves as Swap, but said to just call them Blue.

Without question, the other began helping to dress his wounds.

Despite protest from Dream, Blue refused to let him leave hurt as he was. He couldn’t do anything about the glaring problem, but he wouldn’t just stand by.

D̶r̶e̶a̶m̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶l̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ p̶a̶n̶i̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶, t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶f̶ h̶o̶w̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ m̶e̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ r̶e̶p̶a̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶e̶b̶t̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶.

He came up with an excuse to leave quickly after, which the other had let him do quite easily.

O̶d̶d̶l̶y̶ u̶n̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶e̶d̶.

He retreated to a barren universe, unexpectedly finding Lanny waiting for him.

She ‘replaced’ the arm he lost and disappeared just as quickly as she came. A one time thing, according to her.

An archer is useless without both their arms, he’d be of no use the way he was.

That day was far from his last encounter with Blue, it seemed that every event from that point on pointed him towards the man.

In some weird twist of fate, they had become friends.

Dream had many doubts at first, how was he to know he wasn’t being used once again? Whether it was for things to be done or to feel good, he’d seen it all.

Over and over, Blue proved himself to be truly honest about his reasoning.

No ulterior motives, he didn’t care for what Dream provided, he cared for Dream alone.

It was strange, he refused to believe it for a long time.

The day he decided to take the risk and trust that, a weight was taken off of him.

The other stuck by him, he wanted him for him, he wouldn’t dare burden him.

The same way he used to as a child, he ran off every time he needed to express an emotion that was considered ‘wrong’ of him.

He couldn’t destroy the one friendship he had.

Vulnerability destroyed his mother, his brother, if he were to show it, it was a matter of time before it destroyed him too.

He had to be strong. There was a point to it all, he had to believe it.

If he didn’t, there was no telling how much longer he’d be able to hold on. He’d cling onto the belief, even as his hands went numb and the light died out.

He was never in control, he wouldn’t ever be.

The only decision he ever had to himself was where he let his heart out.

That was the case, at least. Until he was discovered that was.

R̶e̶m̶i̶n̶i̶s̶c̶e̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ N̶e̶i̶l̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶, e̶x̶c̶e̶p̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ d̶o̶ s̶o̶ a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶. o̶n̶e̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ m̶a̶n̶y̶ l̶o̶s̶t̶ b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶s̶ i̶n̶a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.

It was a familiar face, Blue had stumbled upon him while he was meant to be on a walk.

Every step he took towards him, Dream moved backwards.

He was discovered at his worst, that was it.

Despite how Blue stopped trying to approach him, Dream’s mind was racing to come up with an excuse for the situation.

He couldn’t speak.

It didn’t feel real.

He wondered, maybe for the 10th time that week, what it all was.

He was playing a game he could never win.

He felt trapped in his own body, watching his movements like a puppet rather than a person. A ghost, watching his life play out until he saw his corpse at the end and realized he was dead the entire time.

He couldn’t run.

He felt insane every time.

He didn’t put a name to this repetitive issue of his. He would need to confront it otherwise, it’d become too real.

C̶a̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ i̶t̶ d̶i̶s̶s̶o̶c̶i̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ e̶x̶c̶u̶s̶e̶s̶, l̶i̶k̶e̶ i̶t̶ d̶i̶s̶c̶r̶e̶d̶i̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ w̶h̶o̶ t̶r̶u̶l̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶. H̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶.

They ended up sitting together in silence, Dream trying to calm his racing mind as Blue stood far. He never asked anything, Dream was grateful.

They never spoke about that day again.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ u̶s̶e̶f̶u̶l̶, h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ w̶o̶r̶t̶h̶y̶ o̶f̶ b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶, h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶-̶

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ d̶o̶ i̶t̶.

H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶ d̶i̶s̶p̶o̶s̶e̶d̶ o̶f̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶ y̶e̶t̶.

They were back to normal for a while, Dream was more careful about his decisions.

Never again did he rush somewhere without checking his surroundings a million times for people, not just danger.

It was until Dream himself seeked the other out that either of them talked about anything.

Originally, they wanted to hang out for some time, but their conversation strayed.

The topic? Feelings.

Dream stayed quiet for the majority of it, his responses concerned with other people’s rather than his own. W̶a̶s̶ i̶t̶ b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ f̶e̶a̶r̶?̶ o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶a̶c̶t̶ h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶r̶d̶l̶y̶ t̶e̶l̶l̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ a̶p̶a̶r̶t̶?̶

Blue switched between asking, talking about things he's seen, and other times about some parts of him he had never shown anyone else.

If it was an attempt to encourage Dream to talk about his own, it was somewhat helpful. It was the most seen he's felt before without saying a word. Funnily enough, they had some very specific shared experiences Dream couldn’t have put into words if he tried.

He was close, very close, to saying more.

Ultimately, he stayed quiet.

If Blue noticed, he let him be.

I̶f̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶, n̶o̶ o̶n̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶. D̶r̶e̶a̶m̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ t̶o̶ p̶r̶e̶t̶e̶n̶d̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ i̶f̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶ s̶a̶n̶i̶t̶y̶.

About halfway through the conversation, he had started to reflect.

He never wanted to show anything besides happiness around others, motivating them more than he could do for himself.

He spent years trying to bury the part of him that pleaded for another person, to for once be comforted rather than blamed or being the comforter.

It never worked.

Everytime he cried, it felt like he was faking it all. He had his good days, it felt audacious of him to act miserable when he had what may be considered luxury to some. He had many years ahead of him, others were robbed of theirs early. He could get better c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶e̶?̶,, others died miserable.

And yet, it felt as if he told anyone, it would negate all his misery. All the years he spent alone, everything he went through, it wouldn’t sound as bad anymore. It felt like being happy betrayed all the time he spent questioning if he should’ve ever existed to begin with. It felt like it would betray all the guilt he carried for so long, like he never cared.

He didn’t want to get better.

Not saying anything back felt unfair, but the idea of revealing the darkest parts of himself was more terrifying than that.

As a way to compensate, he decided to take off a glove of his.

The one that covered his actual arm, all of the cracks and chips being on full display.

Blue went quiet at the sight, Dream didn’t dare break the silence. The other ended up taking his hand and tracing every crack as gently as he could.

Dream had never known what it felt like to be handled gently before.

The concept was foreign to him.

Another ironic part of him, isn’t it?

For a reason he didn’t know, he wasn’t as terrified as he felt before.

It didn’t mean he would change his mind, but it was comforting.

Maybe, in another lifetime, he wouldn’t be so flawed.

Maybe, in another lifetime, he’d have been okay.

Maybe, in another lifetime, he will be okay.

B̶u̶t̶, n̶o̶t̶ i̶n̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ o̶n̶e̶. N̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ o̶n̶e̶.

H̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ t̶o̶o̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ t̶o̶ d̶o̶.

T̶h̶e̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶ o̶f̶ p̶o̶s̶i̶t̶i̶v̶i̶t̶y̶, d̶o̶o̶m̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ a̶ l̶i̶f̶e̶ o̶f̶ m̶i̶s̶e̶r̶y̶ u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ i̶t̶ e̶n̶d̶e̶d̶ a̶n̶d̶ h̶e̶ r̶e̶l̶i̶v̶e̶d̶ i̶t̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ t̶h̶e̶ v̶e̶r̶y̶ b̶e̶g̶i̶n̶n̶i̶n̶g̶.

Maybe, in another life, he wouldn’t have been so conflicting.

Maybe.

[asukamood]

Free

***

Happy birthday to myself :D

This is a sort of alternative timeline of fmaa2 where Sweammare actually end up together after Noot killed the Priest, this au is an emotional rollercoaster but it’s good! Idk if I’ll ever write much about it in the future though so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

***

Warnings: Mention of suicide attempts, implied murder

Synopsis: “Nothing I ever do to you or with you is casual.” he replied, squeezing his hand to stop the subtle tremor he could feel against his palm. “It’s a gift from me to you, for everything you have done for me.”

Or: Nightmare spoils all his wedding vows before he even proposes to Dream.

***

What the hell was happening?

“Nightmare.” Dream smiled down at him, his eyes warm and full of love. The sight alone had said one’s heart beating loudly in his chest, blood flowing to his cheeks.

His heartbeat only sped up when Dream inched closer to him, soft fingertips brushing over the back of his neck as he felt the other’s thigh pressing against his hip.

Was that a dream? It had to be, there was no way this was happening in real life.

Dream’s other hand landed on his chest, making him wonder if the other was able to feel how quickly his heart was beating against his ribcage. Could he also feel the tingles of petals everywhere he touched him? He blinked, as if surprised before his smile softened, causing Nightmare’s heart to melt.

He had never felt so warm before, not even when the two of them were trapped in each other’s arms. He did not even know that such warmth was possible. It was not burning either, just the perfect temperature to have him feeling all fuzzy and soft inside, he never felt so good, and he never wanted this moment to end.

His heart all but leaped out of its place when the hand on his chest left, instead guiding one of Nightmare’s hands toward his own chest. Even through the fabric of Dream’s sweater, he was able to discern the soft thumping of the other’s heart that seemed almost like a carbon copy of Nightmare’s erratic heartbeat. The implication of that had his head spinning.

“I’m freaking out too.” Dream chuckled, voice light and relaxed, so different from the stifled and anxious one Nightmare was used to. He caught himself thinking that getting rid of the Priest was the best decision he has ever made, no matter how much he suffered in the aftermath. If it meant seeing Dream so joyful, he would not even mind going through all of it again. “But it’s not so bad, right?”

His grip on his wrist tightened just a bit but instead of hurting, it only spread warmth through Nightmare’s veins, his golden eyes bore into Nightmare’s, looking for an answer in those familiar irises.

All that attention was overwhelmingly pleasant.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” He heard himself say, gently freeing himself from Dream’s grip before he intertwined their fingers, his fingertips brushing over Dream’s visible vein lines. “Just us, just me and you together as it was always meant to be.”

Normally, he would never dare utter such words aloud, for fear of ruining what they had and because of how embarrassing it was, but this was a dream anyway, was it not? Maybe that was the source of his newfound shamelessness.

He tugged Dream’s arm forward, leveling the other’s wrist to his face before he leaned down and boldly kissed the lines drawn by his veins, his lips tingling where they met skin.

Dream’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red at his actions as he finally settled on straddling the other’s waist. “You... shouldn’t do these things so casually.”

Nightmare’s eyes turned to focus on him again, his lips still pressed against lighter soft skin. He found himself admiring how much that shade of red suited the other, especially since it drew attention to his sparkling eyes that only tempted Nightmare to stare at them and not look away.

“Nothing I ever do to you or with you is casual.” he replied, squeezing his hand to stop the subtle tremor he could feel against his palm. “It’s a gift from me to you, for everything you have done for me.”

Dream tilted his head to the side, frowning in confusion. “For everything I have done for you?” He echoed, perplexed. Before he could follow it up with a question though, Nightmare opened his mouth once more.

“I used to believe hands were made for fighting.” He began, making the other shut his mouth to listen. “They were always synonymous of pain and fear for me, before you, I had no idea hands could be so comforting and healing.” As if to emphasize his point, he detangled their hands before pressing his cheek against Dream’s palm.

Almost mechanically, his thumb started drawing small circles on his cheek, earning him humming from Nightmare.

“I had no clue eyes could hold anything other than hatred; I didn’t even know eyes could be pretty before I met you. For me, to make friends was to receive glares and brace hostility, you’re the first one who ever showed me what kindness and respect even was.” As he talked, he found himself closing his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Dream’s fingertips against his skin.

“I was used to the cold and the loneliness, and I was fine with them. Then, you came into my life and swung an axe at what I’ve always known and decided to show me how warm another person’s embrace could be, how freeing it was to have someone by your side.”

To show vulnerability was something Nightmare wasn’t used to, so how come it came so naturally when he was speaking to Dream? He did not quite understand but he would not have it any other way.

“You have no clue how much you mean to me, hell if you did it might even scare you.” He chuckled at that, nuzzling Dream’s hand. “I used to think– Ah, I scratch that, I still do– that life sucked and I was just better off dead. I never cared about what happened to me because I had nothing to stay for anyway. Now, for the first time in my life, I’m afraid, not because I fear death, but because I can’t stand the thought of being separated from you.”

He pursued his lips, the mere thought enough to sour his mood. “To never be able to see you smile, to hear you laugh, to listen to your voice, to touch you, to just be there with you... it just sounds like hell to me. For the first time in my life, I’ve got a home to come back to and a person to protect, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let you go.”

He ignored how unstable his voice had become or how shaky Dream’s breaths had gotten or even acknowledge how much Dream’s hand was trembling. If he did not say it now, he would never do it again.

“You make my life bearable, feel pleasant even. Seriously, how did you even manage to do that?” He risked a glance at the other whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears. He smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Unfortunately, though, it only served to actually make him shed his tears. He sniffled, as he attempted to wipe them away with his sleeve. The other stopped him before he could though, instead resuming what he was doing and kissing his tears away.

“What are you crying about? I am complimenting you here, it’s not meant to be making you sad.” He could not help but tease, earning a half-hearted glare from Dream in response before he weakly slapped his shoulder in retaliation.

“You’re a moron.” He hiccupped reproachingly, shoving Nightmare back with a huff. Nightmare would have voiced how cute Dream was being but unfortunately, he was quite fond of the bed they were sharing and was not looking forward to sleeping on the couch tonight, so he kept his mouth shut about that. “Who even allowed you to say such beautiful things? Couldn’t you just say, ‘I love you’ like a normal person?”

Nightmare smiled fondly, reaching upward and playing with the other’s soft locks. “Such simple words could not even convey even a tenth of my adoration for you, after all my heart only beats for you.”

“Okay, now you’re just showing off.” Dream deadpanned, causing Nightmare to laugh. The golden-eyed one sighed, readjusting his position to rest his head on the other’s chest, his arms loosely wrapped around his torso. “How am I even meant to respond to this? I can’t word anything that wouldn’t sound bland in comparison to what you said.” He sounded genuinely frustrated, which was a surprise to Nightmare.

“If you’re worried about that, then between the two of us, someone is smarter than you.” Dream let out an offended gasp at that which was quickly ignored as he wrapped his arms around Dream, firmly keeping his head down against his shoulder. “I already know that you love me back, that’s enough.”

Dream clearly seemed to want to protest but he pressed him closer instead, adding with a voice too broken to be normal: “However, I need you to swear you’re never going to think of leaving me again.”

The trapped one opened his jaw, about to express his confusion before he abruptly shut it as pathetic cries, a burning throat, tears mingling with a soap-like substance, the smell of alcohol and medicine, and the shrieking of the ambulance car assaulted his mind.

Among the blurry memories, a figure with desperate purple eyes stood out, begging him to hold on and not make him live in a world where he was not there.

He tightened his hold over Nightmare, one of his hands ending up fisting the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t leave, not again.” He managed to squeak out, recalling how Nightmare held him after the incident, like he wanted to open his ribcage and tuck Dream inside or like he was the fool cradling sand and hoping it would stop it from being blown far away by the wind.

“But you better not go anywhere either.” He added, a familiar boy with a noose around his neck making sure to remind him he was not the only one who attempted to end their story prematurely.

“I’ll follow you for the rest of my life, if only you would be so kind as to permit it.” He replied, quickly adding the last part.

Dream scoffed, lifting his head before he crashed their lips together. Nightmare responded in kind, flipping them over so he would be on top of him instead.

The other’s arms wrapped around his neck, bringing them impossibly closer as the kiss deepened. Nightmare reached for one of Dream’s knees, lifting it by its back and rubbing soothing circles on the bare skin. Both would have been perfectly content to continue kissing but unfortunately, human beings did need to breathe, which forced them to separate for a bit.

“We should get married.” Nightmare said, out of breath, clearly too dizzy and drunk on the present moment to be deciding such important things.

“Talk about marriage after you get a ring.” Dream, always the reasonable one, wisely reminded him before kissing him again.

The next day, when Nightmare, in pajamas, actually got on one knee and presented his ring offering to his boyfriend, Dream almost spat out his latte.

[asukamood]

On my hands and knees for your stories pookie, I forgot how good they were aaaa

"Next"

——

This oneshot is a little different from most I've posted, its not the usual concepts I'd say.

Allow me to introduce you to the ✨️Informant au✨️

Basically an au where I merged Blue's old canon occupation with the current canon one, a lot of thought has gone into this I despise anything that opposes canon so I can promise that the au's make-up is as accurate as I could possibly make it.

Without further rambling, I hope you enjoy ✨️

--

Sypnosis:It was a good deal they had, he wouldn’t need to participate in anything and Colton would ensure his safety as long as the other man got the information he wanted.

Word count: 2.2k

--

Blue’s head was pounding.

Mere moments- hours ago he was simply on a walk. His bird was resting, he had just finished cleaning his house and found himself staring up at the ceiling, mind blank with nothing to do. He didn’t have anywhere in mind to go to, nor was there really anyone he found himself tempted to b̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ speak to, the silence was irritating but talking to himself felt stupider than he’d like.

After more contemplation, the man decided going for a breath of fresh air wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’d get to go out and walk around, entertaining himself and getting enough of a distraction to shut his brain up temporarily.

The park was oddly empty, much to his dismay, but it wasn’t something he could fix. The sounds of people talking could always be replaced with music, so that was exactly what he did.

What Blue failed to consider was the significance of that emptiness. He didn’t pay as much attention to the shadows moving around as he should have, the rustling of the bushes brushed off simply as just wind.H̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶, h̶e̶ s̶h̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ l̶i̶s̶t̶e̶n̶e̶d̶.

Lurking, following him not long behind were some old..familiar faces.

Ones he never planned to cross again for sure, but it seemed like life had different plans.

If it didn’t, he would’ve never found himself in this situation at all. Perhaps it was the music in his ears masking the footsteps, o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶i̶s̶a̶s̶s̶o̶c̶i̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ d̶e̶a̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ r̶e̶c̶e̶n̶t̶l̶y̶, but it was too late to do anything by the time he realized who was on his trail.

The moment they noticed he caught onto their plans, they seemed to stop bothering to hide. Blue did little to stop what he knew was soon to follow.

The men were from a gang he had an..unfortunate encounter with some time ago.

That recklessness was mainly what led him to his current predicament, tied to a chair, watched like a prey waiting to be devoured. To say he didn’t know the reason he was there would be a lie, but his body hurt too much to care. They probably drugged him to loosen his tongue again didn’t they?

The brunette didn’t have too much time to ponder about that, his head was clear enough to process the click of the door. The blond in front of him was exactly who he’d expected, it wasn’t much of a surprise he’d rather make a ‘dramatic entrance’ than simply wait for him to wake up, though.

Despite the pain all over him, he noted that was still relatively unharmed. Probably part of the other one’s orders, their deal never truly ended after all.

Neither of them spoke a word as Colton looked into his eyes, all others previously standing around hung left the moment he stepped into the room. Whether they were dismissed or if it was also another part of his orders, Blue didn’t care enough to think about the answer nor did he listen enough to really tell.

Despite not being the leader of this gang, Colton still held power over everyone. As the son of the boss, his words were not to be refused. The members trusted him, those who didn’t faced consequences. It was simply how things worked. It didn’t matter what they thought or wanted, the final say was his.

Nobody was foolish enough to disobey or look for loopholes, until Blue came along, that was. Up until then, he was in ultimate control. The original reason they crossed paths to begin with was quite clear, but in classic fashion, Blue found himself a multitude of loopholes. Unlike most others, he didn’t hesitate in exploiting them, gaining himself complete freedom and safety in exchange for information.

It was a good deal they had, he wouldn’t need to participate in anything and Colton would ensure his safety as long as the other man got the information he wanted. It may have sounded unfair, seeing Blue got protection and had no real ties to the gang. His hands were left clean, c̶l̶e̶a̶n̶ a̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ b̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ w̶h̶o̶ p̶u̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶s̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶s̶ d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶, and he got complete freedom only in exchange for some intel! Easy for someone like him.

O̶r̶, i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ g̶o̶o̶d̶ u̶p̶ u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶a̶y̶ B̶l̶u̶e̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ r̶e̶s̶p̶o̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶, a̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶. S̶i̶n̶c̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶n̶, t̶h̶e̶y̶'v̶e̶ k̶e̶p̶t̶ t̶a̶b̶s̶ o̶n̶ h̶i̶m̶. H̶e̶ s̶a̶w̶ t̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶y̶ p̶e̶o̶p̶l̶e̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ s̶e̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ w̶a̶t̶c̶h̶ h̶i̶m̶, k̶e̶e̶p̶ t̶r̶a̶c̶k̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶s̶ a̶c̶t̶i̶v̶i̶t̶y̶, r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ t̶o̶ s̶t̶r̶i̶k̶e̶ i̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ d̶e̶t̶e̶r̶m̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ e̶n̶d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶.

Their breaths being the only sound in the room made his ears ring, though fortunately it seemed like Colton planned to change that soon. Backing away from him, the other straightened his back without cutting off eye contact, it looked like he still wanted to try uncovering all it was that made up Blue. He always found it funny, the way the other would try to intimidate him by trying to make himself look like an equal, like he could read him similar to a book when they both knew that was something that would never work.

“So” he began, “do you know why you’re here, or do you need someone to spell it out for you?” If the man sounded irritated with him before, it paled in comparison to his current attitude.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate? It’s been a long time since we met you know, I’m in an awful lot of pain and your lakeys weren’t gentle with me either” Blue drew out. They both knew that was a lie, but it was a natural part of the game they’ve long since known to play.

“Recently, one of our most important spies was discovered,” the blond answered. “She was ambushed by a soldier sent by the Justice Reigns minutes after we had her go out”

“And that links with me how? Did you just want to see me agai-”

Teasing the other in hopes of distracting him was a bad choice, Blue was aware of that. The sounds of a gun being loaded graced his ears, though fear remained dormant. This was merely another intimidation tactic, he was too important to simply kill and it would get too much attention if he disappeared at random, especially now of all times.

“Cut the shit. You are the only person who could have known she was there at all, so tell me, what have you been telling that new boyfriend of yours?” he spat.

Blue raised a brow, feigning confusion before it ‘clicked’ in his head. Colton was only getting angrier as time passed.

“Ah, Dream! No no, you misunderstand really. I didn’t know she was there at all, this is all news to me he must have simply sensed her presence and sent someone, Ink is good at following trails after all” he winked.

“I never told you who it was”

“Even a toddler could make a guess and get it right, there are only two people he would trust with something like this and only a spy can take out another without drawing attention don’t you think?”

With that, Colton went silent, seemingly considering something new. Whenever they spoke, he tended to do this if he felt cornered. When Blue disproved everything he suspected in seconds, all of his defenses fell knowing this was someone he couldn’t play to his will.

Not like others, where simple words got to their heads, made them believe he held them truly dear, that he gave a single damn about them in any form. It was entertaining, an addicting play for the man, but despite how beneficial it was for him, how easy it was the first time, he could never replicate it on Blue.

A shame, he’d have been just as, if not more useful if making him stay was just that easy. Colton didn’t doubt that they’d have gotten along if they both agreed to stay, extraordinary talents simply tend to gravitate to each other eventually.

I̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ o̶n̶e̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ g̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ c̶h̶a̶n̶c̶e̶, w̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ B̶l̶u̶e̶ p̶l̶o̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶?̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶e̶ p̶l̶a̶n̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ h̶i̶m̶ s̶t̶a̶y̶?̶ h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ f̶a̶r̶ s̶o̶o̶n̶e̶r̶, h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ c̶a̶p̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ o̶f̶ e̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ i̶n̶ a̶ m̶o̶m̶e̶n̶t̶, b̶u̶t̶ s̶o̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ a̶b̶l̶e̶ t̶o̶ t̶a̶k̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ l̶i̶f̶e̶ a̶n̶d̶ s̶i̶l̶e̶n̶c̶e̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶o̶r̶e̶v̶e̶r̶. A̶ s̶h̶a̶m̶e̶ h̶e̶ s̶e̶e̶m̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ a̶l̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ a̶c̶c̶o̶u̶n̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶, i̶n̶v̶o̶l̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶ m̶o̶s̶t̶ i̶m̶p̶o̶r̶t̶a̶n̶t̶ f̶i̶g̶u̶r̶e̶ i̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶ m̶u̶l̶t̶i̶v̶e̶r̶s̶e̶.

“If not you, then who? what are you planning”

Simple, straight forward, plain.

Everything Blue expected from him.

“I’m not planning on anything? Why would I do that?” He shrugged. Well, as much as one could when bound down by ropes.

“The only reason I have kept you alive is because you’re useful, it’s just as easy to find someone else who could do the exact same things you do even better so lying and playing this stupid game of yours is a bad idea. I’ve warned you before and this is the last ti-”

“Except you won’t.”

At being cut off, Colton only paused and glared daggers into the other, seemingly daring him to continue.

“You won’t kill me because you know that it’s not that simple, you know that my death is too inconvenient for you now, too hard to fake”

Silence.

Saying that Blue didn’t enjoy the way the other looked when out of options would be a lie, when control was stripped from him and manipulation failed. Without his two most important defenses, his shield fell apart like a house of cards.

For someone meant to be scary, Blue had grown to find him closer to funny.

He was smart, he’d give him that much, but people weren’t his strong suit. W̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶y̶p̶o̶c̶r̶i̶s̶y̶, i̶t̶ t̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ o̶n̶e̶ t̶o̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ o̶n̶e̶. Growing up in a gang, pressure to be like this from your only parent to prove yourself worthy enough to take his place does that to a man. Not much to dwell on, though, it was his own fault he succumbed to this. If not, then his sister must have been a saint to not fall to the same fate.

That sweet child- Blue had only crossed Camille twice, but it was enough for him to know this was not the place for her. Well, not like it was fit for any kid her age- but that wasn’t something in his control. She’ll get herself out with some assistance, but he wasn’t needed there.

He wasn't really surprised by the way this encounter transpired, seeing the real head of the group wasn't present made things a lot easier for him. For all he puts up, the one in front of him was quite easy to get to. Although that may just be because of how simple it was to get past his walls, a jaded man but not like those types ever posed any issues.

Blue may have been the first person that came to his mind when trying to discern what gave them away, but it was just as likely he wouldn’t be the last.

They had many enemies who wanted to run them into the ground no matter the cost, anyway.

“If the point of this entire show you’ve put up was to blame me for ratting you out, I’m afraid you worked this hard for nothing. I’m sure you’ve figured I want nothing to do with you anymore?”

The blond’s gaze burned holes into his head once again, but Blue ignored him as he had every other time before.

“If you suspect someone to have done so, you and I both know where you should be looking instead” he carried on, “or maybe, it wasn’t an outer source at all”

“Continue.”

Colton’s voice was demanding, threatening, impatient. If it were anyone else, this conversation would have been long over, but unfortunately it still was not.

“You know, I’ve been hearing things”

The other tapped his foot.

“She could have done that herself. At least, that's what a fool may think. The ones you send to watch me are not as discreet as you want them to be, they are not as dedicated as they want you to believe”

“What are you insinuating”

Another way to say ‘choose your next words carefully before I run your head into the ground’, lovely.

“I simply mean that the one who caused this may be closer to you than you think.”

“Something- someone, has infiltrated us?”

Ah, he didn’t consider that, did he? Blue could laugh if not for the increasing tension.

“All I have to add is instead of accusing me of getting her killed, you should be worrying about whether or not I am next”

Bringing attention to his previous involvement with them was unwise, it put both their lives on the line. The brunette relished watching how the other’s expression fell as he desperately tried to piece together a plan, thinking of every possible suspect. That kind of thing was always left to him, the shorter unable to do that kind of thing very well, hard to blame him when all he knew was to dispose of people on the spot and then think, but oh well.

The distraction finally allowed him to untie the knot positioned right above his hands. Terrible craftsmanship, he must say.

His wrists burned by this point, adding to just how uncomfortable he felt in his body at that moment though for a different reason than usual, for once.

He dug his own grave getting involved with this group of individuals, but he will not let them take him to it.

--

No, Camille isn't a canon character. No, she doesn't have much plot relevance, Asuka and I thought Colton needed more to his family dynamic and its beneficial for writing purposes so we decided to have her exist only as a plot device. Noooothing more-

[asukamood]

If someone told me I would one day discover that one of my fics was drawn I would have laughed in their faces. Omg is this even real? Am I dreaming???? Anyway this is beautiful 😭😭

Confession

Made by Asuka_Mood and JayWasLost on Ao3

[asukamood]

Interview (Fmaa2)

***

By the time I have published this, it will probably be far too late but the far right did not win! That represents a time to celebrate for me, so have a wholesome Drue fic for once!

Enjoy your reading!

***

Warnings: Eating disorder (Anorexia), self-harm (cutting), violence/physical abuse

Synopsis: Blue stood behind the cameras, exhaling softly. He stared quietly at the decor he would be filmed in for the next hour with a lot of apprehension, if the subtle tremble of his body was anything to go by.

Stage fright was never a problem he had to face.

Yet, he now found himself trembling.

Why?

***

Blue stood behind the cameras, exhaling softly. He stared quietly at the decor he would be filmed in for the next hour with a lot of apprehension, if the subtle tremble of his body was anything to go by.

Stage fright was never a problem he had to face.

On the contrary, he craved the feeling of eyes on him. He craved the feeling of being gazed upon with admiration. He craved the eventual applause of the public, satisfied with his performance.

When he started filming, there was no more audience to immediately react to his work, but movie reviews were quite pleasant as they were not bound to a particular moment.

Filming an interview with a journalist was hardly any different, feeling wise. Many of them had tried to set him up before, but he always did his best to not give that satisfaction to whoever it was.

Yet, he now found himself trembling.

Why?

Honestly, he knew the reason why. It had nothing to do with who would be interviewing him, it had nothing to do with the cameras rolling, it had nothing to do with the worry of looking like a fool.

No, it had to do with the subject of the interview itself.

The first thing that a young actor such as himself learns, most times the hard way, is to put on a mask, even if you are not filming. You always must play a role, no matter where you are or with whom you are.

The public and journalists will grasp any straws to get your attention and above all, they will pick out any flaws, any part of your personality that they do not like and pick at it, desperate to make you break.

The more of your real self you put out there, the more it will hurt when backlash comes to hit you in the face.

That is, after all, the fate of any public figure.

Yet, here he was, about to talk about the person he had carefully buried deep inside his soul and hidden with a mask. He was about to throw out the window everything he had come to learn to protect himself.

He already had the feeling that he was about to bitterly regret doing this.

But he could not back down, not if his testimony could help someone struggling with the same things he did... has.

His breathing started to go funny again but before it could escalate into anything, soft fingertips brushed his knuckles, giving him something to focus on as that fleeting sensation quickly turned into a proper touch, a familiar hand covering his own.

He lifted his head, meeting golden eyes in which concern glistened like diamonds.

“Are you alright?” Dream whispered, his thumb stroking Blue’s palm.

He hesitated for a moment, before nodding, using his free hand to cover Dream’s. “I am now.”

He scooted closer to him, their legs touching before he rested his head on top of Dream’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being here.” He muttered, hoping that his whisper was enough to convey just how grateful he was to him.

Although, he had the feeling that Dream was going to misinterpret his words as thanking him solely for being here with him on that day when really, he was thanking him for being here with him since day one.

But that was okay, he would have plenty of time left to thank him again, properly this time.

Dream’s lips twitched upward in a gentle smile. “No need, it is only natural.”

It was not, not to him.

“Mr. Blue?” A member of the staff, so recognizable by their uniform, suddenly called out to him, putting an end to his conversation with his husband.

“Yes?” He quickly responded, already dreading whatever the crew member was about to say. “Is something the matter?”

However, the person quickly shook their head, much to his relief. “Not quite, I was just sent to warn you that the cameras will start rolling soon since you looked quite...” They glanced at Dream, stifling a chuckle. “... Distracted.”

Dream chose to ignore that last comment as Blue thanked them for the warning.

“If you need a break, tell me, okay?” That must have been the sixth time in the last hour that the actor heard that request from the other, but oddly enough, he did not mind the repetition. If anything, it reassured him.

“I will.” He squeezed his hand, hoping it would give him enough strength to fulfill the mission he was meant to complete by coming here. “Thank you.”

They fell silent as the lights went out and the decor lit up, the presenter finally welcoming the audience warmly as they gave a summary of who the guests were and the program for the day.

As the presenter turned to him, professional smile stretching their face, Blue took a deep breath. This sight was familiar to him, such charade having taken place for longer than he could recall.

“I am glad that you were able to make it today, Mr. Blue!” They then turned to Dream. “The same goes for you, Mr. Von Licht!”

Dream waved the comment away with the back of his hand. “Oh please, no need to mention it. You can ignore my presence for now as I am only here to support my husband.”

The presenter feigned a chuckle, making a comment on how heartwarming that gesture was, before ultimately focusing on Blue. He straightened his back, putting on the same smile the public adored and worshipped since he was a child.

“Your fans have a lot of inquiries for you and most specifically about your mental health journey.” They began, bending to the right as they took a hat that Blue did not even notice its presence and put it on their knees, revealing the small cards discarded inside of it. “Would it bother you to pick one of those cards?”

Blue nodded as an answer, clutching onto Dream’s hand for dear life as his free hand reached for the hat that the presenter put on top of the coffee table in front of them.

He fumbled around the papers for a few seconds with a shaking hand before he finally caught one between his index and middle finger, pulling his hand back and opening the card.

“What does it say?” The presenter asked, as Blue could feel Dream leaning toward him and reading the contents of the card behind his shoulder.

Blue bit his lip as he read the card silently before risking opening his mouth, hoping on all deities out there that his voice would not quiver so early on. “Do you or did you believe that starving yourself made you more beautiful?”

The gentle rubbing of Dream’s hand on his shoulders made him almost want to cry but he quickly regained his composure. “... Quite honestly, yes. I still have a lot of issues regarding dissociating my appearance to my diet and do feel more appealing when I go on about my day on an empty stomach.”

Each word he uttered out loud felt like a stab in the chest, but he pushed himself to continue, thinking of all the other people who could be in the same situation as he is.

He turned toward Dream, who smiled encouragingly at him, which ended up making him crack a smile as well.

“Luckily for me though, I have an amazing husband who would still find me attractive no matter what I look like.” He paused as his smile faded. “I doubt that my relationship with my body or food will ever improve, but I have at least come to accept that my looks aren’t all there is to appreciate about me and am doing my best to try and put my health first.”

“Thank you for your answer.” The presenter finally said, after making sure that Blue was done talking. They eyed him for a few seconds, without malice, before talking again. “It is a priority for our guests to be feeling as comfortable as possible so how would you like to speak about a more usual topic?”

Blue tilted his head on the side, his curiosity piqued. Even if it was, he probably would have latched onto that opportunity either way, considering the dull pain in his stomach had been worsening ever since he started speaking or did it just feel this way because he wanted to do it again and he knew his last words were a blatant lie?.

“Not at all, what do you want to ask me about?” They were most likely referring to questions regarding his career, but perhaps they could be able to surprise him this time?

“I think many of us had dreamed of becoming an actor or play in a theatre at least once in our life,” She started, giving right to Blue’s intuition. “We all have our weaknesses when it comes to acting but, as a professional actor, what is, for you, the most difficult emotion to fake?”

Well, that was certainly an unusual question. Blue tapped his chin in thought, trying to recall any moment he had any difficulty entering his role.

He glanced at Dream for a moment, the latter flashing him with one of his confused smiles that never failed to make his heart flutter. He had his answer now.

“Many people would think it would be despair, especially with how hard it is for most people to cry for a role.” He shook his head.

“However, I firmly believe it is one of the easiest. No matter what degree, we have all felt desperate. Whether it be regarding an absence of support, an inability to connect with other people, mistreatment, financial problems, the death of a loved one... We have all been in that dark place that some of us are still not able to claw their way out. Tears are not the only form this despair takes as well.”

Despair could take the form of letting a trusted one do whatever they want, what you wanted be damned, your comfort be damned, as long as they stayed with you.

It could take the form of a blade that you would drag on your skin and silence whatever storm was brewing in your head before tempting you for more hurt, for more blood to stop the hurt you felt inside.

It could take the form of vomiting the little food you had managed to shove down your throat, heaving and gasping for breath as you could feel your throat and stomach burning like they were attacked by the embers of hell.

It could also take the form of standing in the middle of the crowd and feeling just as alone and unseen as if you had been thrown into the void itself.

He looked toward the camera, the people behind it eyeing him with attention. “The hardest emotion to fake is happiness, true happiness.”

At the raised eyebrow he received, he continued his explanation. “We have all felt despair, but only a few of us know happiness. I am not talking about those fleeting moments of satisfaction or relief, I am referring to a safe happiness, that euphoria you can always go back to no matter where you find yourself.”

“You could be having the roughest day of your life, but the memory of that happiness would not make you resentful, more miserable, or bitter, it would make you happy. That happiness of course would not prevent you from feeling miserable, far from, but it would, it will be there for you when you do.”

The presenter stayed without talking for a few seconds before speaking again. “And did you find yours?”

Blue beamed at Dream, planting a kiss on his cheek. Startled, the latter’s cheeks turned rose as he stared at Blue in bewilderment. He squeezed his hand once more as his smile widened. “Yes, yes I did.”

He turned back to the presenter, this time, genuinely confident he would get through that interview unscathed.

He could fall as many times as he wanted, he could break as many times as he needed as well, it all did not matter.

He was out of that dark place, despair could try to drag him back there, it could tempt him all he wanted with that cursed picture in his mirror or those sharp blades, he would not stay there any longer.

Even if he fell once more, he would do anything in his power to claw his way back up.

He was damaged, that much was obvious.

But he was not beyond repair, and one day he will be all fixed up.

[asukamood]

Surprise!

***

This post is part of the Surprises Filled with Tears series.

Previous part — Next part

***

My motivation to write anything has been so sad lately, why do I never want to write when I have the time to? Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this three-shot!

I have written this so that you can read it as both platonic and romantic, it is up to you to decide which one you prefer.

***

Warnings: Burning

Synopsis: Finally, what he had been waiting for...

12:00 A.M.

He jumped to his feet in excitement as he held his hands up in the air, letting out a victorious yell.

His summer holidays had officially started, which also meant that he finally got to see Augustine after all these unbearably long months of longing to see him face to face!

***

Winnie watched with wide eyes the alarm clock in front of him, his face half-buried in his pillow. He watched every pixel of the small black screen, watching with increasing intensity the numbers displayed in red.

Finally, what he had been waiting for...

12:00 A.M.

He jumped to his feet in excitement as he held his hands up in the air, letting out a victorious yell.

His summer holidays had officially started, which also meant that he finally got to see Augustine after all these unbearably long months of longing to see him face to face!

However, he did not get enough time to truly celebrate this moment when his roommate groaned, groggily, clearly annoyed at being woken up.

“Winnie, for fuck’s sake, if you don’t keep it down, I will literally gouge your eyes out and mail them to your family.” He sneered as his eyes fixated on Winnie, warning evident in his voice.

Said boy chuckled nervously as he swiftly went back under his covers, the sound of his ruffling blanket only seeming to irritate the other college student more. “Sorry!” He apologized, only getting another groan as a response before the other turned his back to him, dragging his own covers over his chin.

Winnie sighed as he stared at the blank ceiling above him. The sight was familiar to him and so was the boredom that usually came with it but today, even that ceiling seemed to benefit from Winnie’s good mood.

During the entire year, Augustine and he had texted almost every day, each giving a concise description of the events that took place on the very day. In one of their conversations, Augustine had mentioned changing the decoration of his new house, after moving out of his parents’ house, to Winnie.

He told him that he was currently still decorating everything but allowed him just one sneak peek of his bedroom’s ceiling as he was particularly proud of his work. When Winnie was finally able to see the picture, after waiting agonizingly long for the file to load (curse his weak internet connection!), his jaw had dropped as he let out an admirative gasp.

It looked just like a picture of a starry sky, the moon just merely poking out of one of the room’s corners and seemingly illuminating the stars in this fake sky.

He had made a comment about how he could not wait for Winnie to come over so he could show him everything else he had done to the house; changes he swore that Winnie would appreciate. The curiosity was killing him, so much that he could not seem to find sleep as easily as his roommate, Augustine was the only one to blame for this!

He flipped on his side, staring at the clock put on his nightstand. It read 12:07 A.M.

He sighed deeply as he buried his face in his pillow, wishing that the sun could rise so he could go already! He terribly missed his best friend, and he was sure that the feeling was mutual.

A large grin made its way to his face as the thought came to him. That was right, Augustine missed him too. There was once a time when, surrounded by snow and the freezing breeze of winter, Winnie would not have been so sure that it was the case.

But they were fine now, Augustine was still his friend.

Augustine still wanted to be his friend.

That got him giggling again.

He glanced up at his slightly parted curtains, revealing a blank black sky, devoid of stars, only illuminated by the lonely moon. Winnie pouted. Augustine’s night sky-ceiling was way prettier than the real one.

***

The sun was the first one to welcome Winnie back to this town he called home, the welcoming sign of the city being the second. He rolled his window down as he drove past the giant sign, inhaling deeply through his nose as the lovely scent of freshly cooked bread reached his nose, the bakery having long since started making their pastries.

Winnie smiled as he let his eyes wander off, pleased to see that the ice and snow from the winter weather had totally melted, letting the warm charm of summer take over the small town.

The screen before him read 7:39 A.M., Winnie giggled, thinking of the face Augustine would make when he showed up on his doorstep unannounced, two weeks earlier than what he had told the other.

Winnie’s professor had gone on vacation early, which freed all his students early too, students that included Winnie. He thought that it would have made quite a great surprise for his best friend, who had not stopped complaining about how boring life had become after Winnie left town.

He glanced to his right, where the town’s playground was located, and the sound of children’s laughter rang through the road as they ran after one another. From the small group of children playing hide and seek, Winnie caught a glimpse of pale blond hair running after a tanned boy with messy brown hair.

Winnie’s smile widened even wider as he turned to the right, coming closer to the source of the smell, parking his car in front of the bakery. It had been a while since they had last gone to the playground together, Winnie could only wonder if the other still remembered accidentally pushing him off the swing in an attempt to help him with his speed.

He giggled to himself as he left the car, grabbing his bag.

As he made the beeline for the entrance, his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, making him stop in his tracks as he took the device out. His smile made its way back to his face as he read “Auggie <3” on the screen.

He swiped to the left to open the conversation.

‘Hey, are you awake yet?’

‘Yeah, I am, I was just on my way to class actually! :D’

‘What are you doing awake though? I thought you would be sleeping in today?’

‘I was planning to, but some birds next to my window started chirping bloody murder and now I can’t sleep anymore -_-’

Winnie rolled his eyes in amusement. “Chirping bloody murder,” only Augustine would be able to say something so ridiculous. The ping of a new notification caught his attention again before he could have the chance to picture a funny mental image.

‘When your class is over, do you want to facetime?’

‘I’m super bored.’

‘Yeah, of course! ^^’

‘My class only ends at lunchtime though; would that be a problem?’

The screen displayed three dots continuously appearing and disappearing, as if the one on the other end of the screen was struggling to come up with a reply. Winnie raised an eyebrow at that, smiling at the baker after they called him for his turn. He shoved his phone in his pocket for now, ordering a strawberry cake.

Their reunion was something to celebrate after all, plus the cakes from this bakery were absolutely divine, he had no doubt about Augustine liking it.

His phone shook in his pocket as he reached for his wallet to pay for his order, making him try to speed up the process. He did not know why, but he felt like it was especially important to text him as fast as possible today. For some reason, he felt like there was something heavy in the back of his throat as he thought of delaying his response for more than a second.

Did something happen? Winnie shook his head at the question, Augustine would tell him if there was anything wrong.

... Would he?

He hurried to take out his phone.

‘Well, that sucks.’

‘It’s fine, I can wait. I know you’re busy.’

Winnie bit his lip, staring at the screen in silence, his fingers hovering over the keyboard without ever making contact with it. What was he supposed to answer?

He fumbled with his fingers a few times before finally choosing his course of action.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I have a bad feeling.’

‘I’m fine, did I say something concerning just now?’

‘Sorry if I worried you, as I said, I’m just tired.’

‘If you say so, go get some rest, okay?’

‘I’ll see you soon, I promise’

‘Okay, see you.’

Auggie <33 logged off.

Winnie stared at his phone for a few more seconds, staring at the other’s last message. His best friend was most likely to try and go back to sleep, or perhaps he would be watching more space documentaries.

If that is the case, then why does he feel like he made a horrible choice by telling him goodbye?

Auggie would tell him if something were bothering him, would he not?

Winnie shook his head.

He should not think like that, he promised Augustine that he would no longer assume things and just trust him. He owed him that much after betraying his trust and ignoring his boundaries for years.

He buckled up in his seat, his car making a revving noise as the engine started back up.

Whatever it was, he had a surprise visit to make so he could put these worries aside and just focus on that! He already bought a cake, but he should probably get him a gift as well...

He drove to the nearest store, suddenly remembering how Augustine had told him how much he needed to buy new clothes because his were getting too small.

This was totally fine; he was sure his best friend would appreciate the gift even if there was once a time when he looked at whatever Winnie gave him as a nuisance.

His gift all wrapped up (ack, his wallet was suffering T-T), he finally set out for Augustine’s house.

Augustine still lived in the same street as his parents, a criterium his parents imposed so they would be able to help him if anything were wrong, a quiet street.

As he passed by in his car, he waved happily at his best friend’s parents who were tending to their garden. The couple recognized him and with bright smiles, gave him a thumb-up. They swore to keep that surprise visit a secret from their son and Winnie could not be more grateful about that.

He was feeling more at ease now, whatever sense of dread he had felt had completely disappeared, leaving nothing but anticipation at seeing his best friend in the flesh after so long.

He really could not wait!

***

If there was one thing that Winnie had not missed when he moved to another city, it was the lack of parking spots. The town was rarely ever crowded, in cars even less as most people usually went on foot or by other means of transportation but that also meant that parking spots were quite rare to find.

When Winnie finally stopped the engine, he did not dare look at the clock, afraid to find out just how long he had spent under the sun and praying to all the gods out there to have protected the poor cake that rested on the passenger seat right next to him.

He had placed the shopping bag in front of it, hoping it would have shielded it from the sun’s rays but that was a dangerous gamble he was willing to play.

He hopped down from his car, grabbing the shopping bag and the cake as he walked to Augustine’s house.

It was well past 9 A.M. now and from what Augustine had told him over the course of the year, he would have already left for work by that time. He started working at a small café not long after he bought his house, telling Winnie that the bills were not going to pay themselves.

His Auggie was always so hard-working!

He hummed a bit as he opened the main entrance before freezing almost immediately as he heard loud music being played above him. Augustine’s house was a two-story building that had a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom on the first floor while two bedrooms and another bathroom rested on the second floor.

For a moment, Winnie was almost afraid that his surprise was ruined now that he discovered that Augustine had not, in fact, left for work but maybe it was better this way. Besides, with how loud his best friend was playing his music, Winnie had little concern regarding the other hearing him enter.

He locked the door behind him, leaving his luggage behind the door and only taking the cake to the kitchen.

He grabbed ahold of a clean plate, before inhaling deeply through his nose as he opened the case in which the cake rested.

He beamed as he realized that the cake did not melt from the warmth of the sun. What a relief! He carefully put the cake on the plate before walking upstairs, making sure to make as little noise as possible.

The music only grew louder the more he approached Augustine’s room, the door left ajar. He grinned as he opened the door, about to yell a cheerful “Surprise!”

Instead, his voice got caught in his throat and the only sound distinguishable from the music was the horrible shattering noise of the crashing plate, leading the cake to its demise as well as it splattered all over the floor.

There was Augustine, sitting against his bed.

With a lighter.

[asukamood]

Chapter 4: Bloody Trail

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Previous part — Next part

First part

***

Guys, you will not believe the absolute genius idea I woke up with for an Augwin three-shot. I think after I am done with my on-going fic for Dreamswap I will start writing that in my CF book, don’t hesitate to come over and tell me what you think of it!

***

Warnings: Graphic depiction of violence (death, blood, gore), disturbing imagery, strong language

Synopsis: After their last words, a tensed atmosphere reigned between them, Winnie finding the silence suffocating. The sounds of their mingled breaths and the continuous crunches of the snow under their feet doing little to help with the tension the unspoken words the two have left to float between them.

Although, despite how angry Augustine seemed to be at Winnie, the latter could not help but notice how Augustine had slowed down his pace, allowing the blond to catch up to him.

***

After their last words, a tensed atmosphere reigned between them, Winnie finding the silence suffocating. The sounds of their mingled breaths and the continuous crunches of the snow under their feet doing little to help with the tension the unspoken words the two have left to float between them.

Although, despite how angry Augustine seemed to be at Winnie, the latter could not help but notice how Augustine had slowed down his pace, allowing the blond to catch up to him.

This drew a little smile from the freezing boy, who could not help but being reminded of a similar situation from when they were still so young but so naive.

Augustine seemed upset at Winnie for eating a cookie without him but even so, it did not stop him from waiting for Winnie to walk back home together. He remembered how cute he was, pouting and glancing at Winnie sometimes to ensure he knew the other was looking and was made aware of his wrath.

The memory made Winnie let out a low chuckle, attracting Augustine’s attention. The latter raised an eyebrow as he turned to him. “What are you laughing about?”

Winnie shook his head, his lips still twitched upward. “Nothing, I was just thinking of something funny.”

“And what is it?” He questioned, his anger beginning to subdue. Now, he looked like he was more curious than mad. For some reason, that just made Winnie’s smile widen.

“Do you remember when you got mad at me for eating a cookie without you in elementary school?” Winnie hummed, enjoying how his friend’s cheeks suddenly flushed from embarrassment.

“You still remember that?” He grumbled. “What the fuck, that was so long ago. Cut me some slack, will you? I was like, eight max.” His reaction only made Winnie smile wider, making him chuckle.

He thought about how that conversation finally felt genuine, free of any complications. Augustine was not looking at him as if he had wronged him one way or another, nor was Winnie trying to uphold any kind of façade. It was just... them, for once. Winnie and Auggie, just like how it was always meant to be.

Not wanting to lose the moment they were having, Winnie hurried to find another subject to talk about together. But just as he was about to open his mouth to say something else, the combined sounds of their synched footsteps suddenly changed, getting quieter. Only then did Winnie notice that Augustine had stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned to him, confused as he asked him what was wrong.

“T... That can’t be...” He muttered, more to himself than to answer Winnie’s question. He was awfully pale, his eyes widened and breathing heavily. Confused and quite awfully concerned, Winnie chose to turn his head toward the road ahead, the direction Augustine was looking at, to see what was bothering him so much.

His blood ran colder than the thin layer of frost coating his skin, the man wishing he had never looked. “Is... Is that?”

They both finished Winnie’s sentence with the word blood, both men feeling a tremor up their spine as they uttered the word, staring at the fresh trail of blood right in the middle of the road.

“Why does it look like it has been dragged on the floor?” Augustine questioned aloud, walking toward the trail.

“Auggy--” He swallowed. “Augustine!” He called, louder this time, as he chased after him. However, the other did not seem to notice him, keeping on walking ahead like he was possessed.

To say Winnie was terrified was quite an understatement.

What if they ran into that growling creature he saw before? There was no way they would get out of that alive!

However, he tried to push the thought away as he tried to jog after Augustine, despite his bones feeling like stone with how hard it was to move. It did not matter, he had to get to Augustine before he got himself in more danger than they already were.

After what felt like an eternity, Winnie was finally able to catch up to the shorter man who had stopped dead in his tracks. He heaved in a sigh of relief as he called out to him, moving closer.

He could immediately tell something was not right when he started hearing heavy breathing that was not his own, on top of the sound of his shoes stomping on snow.

“Augustine?” He called out in concern as he put his hand on his shoulder. The other did not react to his touch, only gripping his bag tighter as he gritted his teeth, eyes still fixed on whatever was ahead of them. He stepped back to his left, muttering something Winnie was not able to hear.

He frowned, confused. He turned to look at what Augustine had been so focused on...

... Only to let out a terrified yelp, slapping his hand over his mouth as he desperately held back the urge to throw up whatever it was he ate this morning.

The first thing he could make out was the crimson of the blood, the color sticking out like a sore thumb in the meadows of snow that covered the land and the horizon.

There was an entire pool of it, fresh, surrounded by two familiar silhouettes.

Winnie used to think that his childhood memories with Augustine were the best he ever had.

Or at least, that is what he thought up until the very moment he laid eyes on the two children—corpses.

The younger version of Augustine was wearing something like what he wore the first time Winnie saw him: black trousers and a flamboyant sweater in his signature color. However, he did not remember ever seeing Augustine’s sweater and chest torn apart at the seams by a giant bleeding scratch wound that began at his right shoulder and ended at his left hip.

The boy’s fiery eyes were empty, cold and freezing much like the rest of his body. The few patches of skin he could see were covered with snow that was on top of deep blue, almost violet areas.

Frostbites.

Although it looked quite horrifying on Augustine, Winnie was not any better. He too was covered in frostbite and snow, his eyes long dead and grey. That younger version of him seemed like he died last, considering how the hands that were connecting the two corpses looked like.

Augustine’s hand and arm were tucked beneath Winnie who even in death seemed to be holding onto dear life to Augustine’s hand.

Although their corpses looked in equally terrible shapes, they did not have matching injuries. That Winnie? He was stabbed. Multiple times.

Next to him, Winnie could vaguely hear that Augustine was speaking, only he could not hear anything he said, much less process anything. “I can’t believe it.” He stuttered out, seeming to finally stop Augustine from continuing his rant.

“You’re really telling me there’s something here with us that can cause these injuries?” He spoke without thinking, regretting it bitterly as soon as he registered the atrocity he just said aloud. He turned toward Augustine, finding pure panic in his irises.

Shit.

“No, let’s--” He stumbled on his words, trying his best not to look at the corpses in front of them. “--Let’s stay positive!” He continued, whispering quickly under his breath how scared he was before speaking louder for Augustine to hear again.

He glanced toward the other, fiddling with his fingers nervously as he tried to gather his thoughts to figure out what he could say to make this better. “Seeing how it’s right in the middle of our path, maybe it’s a sign!” He could not care less if Augustine right through his strained enthusiastic voice at this point.

“A very personalized and terrifying ‘Don’t go this way’ sign!” What was he even saying? There was no way that would convince anybody, especially not Augustine! “There may still be time for us to turn back! It’s not like whatever attacked us is standing right behind us!” He tried to joke, bringing his hands up to his face as he trembled.

A growl.

Winnie froze in terror.

It was the same one he heard earlier.

Augustine and he turned around at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes right before the monster, a weird mixture of a bear stuck inside of a deer, charged at them. The paw of the predator dug into Augustine’s right shoulder, making him scream in pain, his voice only getting louder as it started dragging down his body toward his left hip.

Winnie’s eyes widened as he saw that, opening his mouth and rushing to him, only to have the head of the deer yell and run his antlers right inside of his chest, the edges going right through his torso and out in the back.

He could not even describe the pain coursed through him as he screamed, the deer (or was it the bear?) shaking its head before tossing him backward.

He was in pain, he was cold, but he was still alive.

His ears rang, vision going black. He would have closed his eyes for good, if not for catching a glimpse of orange in the snow.

His eyes shot open. “Auggy!”

No response.

Winnie could not feel his legs, but it did not matter, he had to get to Augustine. He flipped over to his stomach, immediately wincing at the snow itching its way through the holes in his chest.

He put an arm in front of him, gripping a handful of snow in his hand as he dragged himself by the arms in Augustine’s direction. He let out pained whines as he did that, the snow grains feeling like they were eating away at his skin, making the holes in his body even wider.

He kept going though, repeating the process. Eventually, he got close enough to the other to tell that Augustine was already dead, his brown eyes starting to match the younger corpses just ahead.

He tried to keep his sob down, his vision growing darker by the minute as he dragged himself to be just a few inches away from Augustine. He was out of breath and could feel the freezing cold chip away from whatever was left of him.

He took one last deep breath as he reached for Augustine’s closest hand, interlacing their fingers. His were unusually cold, but that was okay. He finally let his head hit the snow, staring one last time at the other’s face.

As he closed his eyes, he could only think of one last thing: “Auggy, I’m scared.”

...

“BACK OFF.” Winnie jolted back, eyes widening in shock as he caught a glimpse of Augustine throwing his backpack into the creature’s faces, causing it to let out twin screams from both animals. The other turned to Winnie, looking angry. “You just had to jinx it!”

Then he started to take off as Winnie stood there, trying to understand what was going on. Was he not already--

“What are you standing around for?!” Augustine’s shout snapped Winnie out of it, just in time to see that the monster was almost back up again. “Run!”

He did not have to be told twice.

Adrenaline coursed through his freezing veins as he started to run toward Augustine. For a moment, his vision spun, and he could swear that he could see him falling and being run over by the creature as it chased after Winnie.

He could not let that happen.

He sprinted closer to the other, just in time to catch Augustine almost tripping on a rock as he was too busy staring at the monster. He managed to keep him standing and running, the other looking at him in surprise.

“Don’t look behind you, just keep running!” He managed to yell over the snowstorm that had gotten stronger again.

He had too many things to talk about with Augustine, he could not let any of them die here. Not today.

[asukamood]

Autumn and winter (Augwin)

***

Maybe the ao3 author curse is real.

***

Warnings: Low self-esteem

Synopsis: Augustine Orlov was the most amazing person Winnie Bosko ever had the chance to meet, that much was clear to the young boy.

He was everything that Winnie was not.

He was everything that Winnie wanted to be.

Augustine always reminded him of Fall.

***

Augustine Orlov was the most amazing person Winnie Bosko ever had the chance to meet, that much was clear to the young boy.

He was everything that Winnie was not.

He was everything that Winnie wanted to be.

Augustine always reminded him of Fall.

His eyes matched the changing colors of the falling leaves, a dark amber but turning to a beautiful hue of gold when the sun shined. They even reminded him of the setting sun some days, a relieving sight to see after a long day.

Augustine was the cool breeze that everyone was waiting for after the unbearably warm days of summer. Cool, so you would not suffocate from his warmth but not cold, so you would not feel uncomfortable by the frost.

He was going apple picking after being trapped at home with the air conditioning working overtime or being stuck at the beach or anywhere with water to avoid melting from the rays of the sun. Spending time with him was like finding the best apple of the bunch and making a delicious pie with your friends and family to share later.

He was the same as excitedly talking about Halloween, feeling overjoyed as your costume, no matter how silly, was delivered to your porch that very morning and running to your parents to tell them that Halloween was finally coming.

He was the same fun as picking out the best looking pumpkins in the market as you go shopping with your mother before trying, most times than not failing, to carve out a scary face and putting a light inside the pumpkin as you used whatever you took out of it to make another delicious pumpkin-flavored dessert.

He was the anticipation and excitement you felt as you walked down the street, illuminated in all corners by a dim orange hue, hand in hand with your family before ultimately pointing at a nearby house.

His smile was the same you would wear as you yell out “Trick or Treat!” before handing your pumpkin-shaped bag to your disguised neighbor, staring intently as they laughed and blessed you with a handful of chocolate and sweets.

Waiting for him to arrive always felt like looking forward to camping with your best friends, away from the noises of the city and the nagging of teachers, laughing as you told each other scary stories while holding marshmallows to be cooked on a campfire.

His messy hair reminded Winnie of the way his friends and he would always wake up from such particuliar sleepovers in odd sleeping positions or with leaves in their hair. He could still not forget the time they all freaked out and basically destroyed their camp because one of his friends found a spider crawling in his hair.

After he moved to this new snowy city, away from the friends and memories he left behind, Winnie was miserable, always longing for these days to be back.

But ever since he met Augustine Orlov, Winnie had not been as miserable as he used to be. Instead of grieving over the lost days with his former friends, he wondered what kind of adventures he and Augustine could go on.

He suggested they go camping together once, he was still waiting for his answer. Regardless of his answer though, Winnie knew that he would have had fun anyway.

In autumn, you always find something to do when you are bored.

Whether it be fun like jumping into freshly made piles of fallen amber leaves and being reprimanded by your parents as you watched the decomposing face of whoever worked on that pile, or something more reasonable like sharing a barbecue with your neighbors, there was always something to do with Augustine.

This boy did not have the word boring in his vocabulary!

You could never get lost with him, because as the helpful breeze did in Fall, he would always guide you back to the right path. Augustine was always cool when he needed to be, but he could also be as warm as the sun.

Winnie remembered how warm his hands were when he guided him back home.

It was truly a shame that he was never able to be this way.

Winnie Bosko was always the opposite of Augustine Orlov.

Winnie was like winter, the season of death.

After having fun in autumn outside because of the cool weather, you were now stuck at home in winter, shivering and freezing as you prayed for your radiator to warm you up, as you sadly looked at the rising price of your electricity bills.

Forget about the gorgeous outfits you could wear in autumn; you were now restrained to putting as many layers as humanly possible to avoid freezing death. It was hard to move and harder for the people around you not to laugh because of the way you looked like a stuffed ravioli.

The beautiful sight of the golden falling leaves gone, trees were now completely stripped of their armor as the harsh dropping temperatures, so typical of winter, started showing face.

Gone were the social gatherings with your neighbors, gone were your outings with your friends, gone were your random travels across the city. It was too cold to do anything.

Forget about the cool breeze of autumn carrying you to unfamiliar places to explore, winter was when the story ended. If you were lost, you could neither count on Winnie or winter to show you the way back. On the contrary, winter covered both the path ahead and your tracks with thick snow that crunched uncomfortably beneath your boots.

The snow made everything look the same, making you feel even more lost and alone in this pristine white meadow that showed you nothing but loneliness and desolation.

The plants could not live in this condition, so they withered and died. The animals could not move around freely to chase for food, so they went to hibernate. The humans could not stand the cold, so they hid in their homes.

No one wanted to keep company to winter, that was understandable.

But the lonelier the winter, the harsher the snowstorms and wind.

Winnie would bawl like a newborn and push anyone that came close to him away. He would fight and cry if you tried to force him somewhere with lots of people. And if you had the misfortune to try and fix his problems by any other means, he would retaliate.

Even if you put in the effort to try your hand at cultivating during the winter, you would not collect any fruits. Some crops were destroyed by the snow, making famine rage.

Winter was a season of deep sadness, mourning and death.

Which was maybe why so many people looked gloomy, reflecting the weather.

Which was maybe why it was snowing when Winnie had all his friends and hometown taken away from him overnight.

Which was maybe why it was during the winter that Winnie broke his leg.

Which was maybe why it was during the winter that Augustine left him on the floor unconscious.

For ages, Winnie was convinced that Augustine was immune to winter’s effect because he reminded him so much of Fall. But when he saw Augustine gradually look more miserable the longer he spent with Winnie, he realized that perhaps he did not.

Perhaps Augustine did hate Winnie’s whiny nature too. He could not blame him for that.

Winter always, without exception, followed Fall.

However, it failed to ask if that was okay with autumn.

So, Winnie let Augustine go.

If Augustine did not have to deal with the mourning and death that winter represented, perhaps he would be happier.

For all winter knew, autumn could have hated it since the beginning.

But that was incorrect, just like how autumn could never hate winter, Augustine could not hate Winnie either.

The two could agree on the fact Winnie resembled winter but that was about it.

Winnie viewed the snow as a terrible thing, Augustine did not. This pristine white blanket only reminded him of the initial displeasing feeling of frost on his skin before you molded the frost into great memories, just like how he has been building snowmen with his folks ever since he was little.

Winter was the end of the barbecues and the camping, but it was also the beginning of skiing and skating.

It was the beginning of freely waltzing and spinning in a meadow of ice and snow, surrounded by friends. It was the beginning of watching your friends and family faceplant on the floor, laughing before you even asked if they were okay and helping them up.

It was the beginning of going traveling to a warm chalet in the mountains and admiring the spectacular show of the falling snowflakes.

It was the beginning of laying at home, covered in a warm blanket and sipping on a steaming cup of hot chocolate as you watched a movie with your parents.

It was the excitement of preparing snacks for Santa and waking up the next morning, hoping for good presents and, for the most ambitious, to catch the flashy old man red-handed.

It was the anticipation and joy of ripping your presents open as your parents watched with a smile, knowing fully well that they manipulated you into telling them what you wanted as a present under the guise of telling Santa, so they did not have to think about it too hard.

It was also the time when everyone would be fighting over who got to keep Grandma’s fluffy homemade blankets as the latter cackled like a Disney supervillain, having planned this chaos in retaliation for dropping the pastry she made with love last Christmas.

Augustine found winter fun, regardless of its caprices and inconveniences.

Or at least, that was until its caprices began to intensify.

But he did love winter, he just needed it to calm down.

[asukamood]

AAAAA I love them so much 😭😭

I am literally so salty I was never given a notification for it like what the hell, my pookie posted but I wasn’t aware of it?

Anyway, Emo Rainbow all the way man

I Tried to Hold Him (but it didn't really last long.) [Kolour]

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Helloo :) This is, once again, something I've forgotten thats been lying around in my docs unposted for no real reason!

I don't have much to say about this one here, perhaps trigger warning for major character death? Should be about it though. Enjoy :)

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Sypnosis:

Colour healed him, put him back together.

The very man who kept him in one piece, held him like he was the most fragile thing in the multiverse with such gentleness, the one Killer found himself clinging onto.

He was colder than he should ever be.

Word count: 2.7k

Death was something Killer was familiar with.

It was something every Sans had long since gotten used to, but he was especially acquainted with it. The way it would come so suddenly, bearing its fangs and sinking them deep into the victim, leaving no time to process what had happened until it was too late to save them.

He had experienced it many times, but the amount of times he caused it far outweigh that. It’s what he would assume, at least.

The feeling of his knife tearing into the body of another, over and over to the point he lost count of how many had fallen to his hands. Hands and clothing covered in a thin veil of dust, all that remains after someone is gone. A reminder he is why they are no longer there, t̶h̶e̶ f̶e̶e̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶f̶ i̶t̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ n̶o̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ h̶o̶w̶ h̶a̶r̶d̶ h̶e̶ s̶c̶r̶u̶b̶b̶e̶d̶ w̶h̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶u̶s̶t̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶-̶ t̶h̶e̶ b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶-̶

It was almost like a dance to him by this point, the familiar weight of his knife grounding him in the midst of this sickening choreography he had become so accustomed to. It’d be a matter of time before the other monsters fell regardless of their skill, and he would simply need to last longer. A test of endurance, if all else failed.

He lost many people throughout his lifetimes, one’s sanity can’t stay intact for long after seeing your own family be mangled over and over, but Killer had long since lost track of time when he snapped. It felt almost like he was torn to pieces and put back together by fragile thread barely holding his aching soul in one piece when he made that deal.

It was too late to take it back by then, a decision he regret for a long time after.

His first victims were the family he tried so hard to keep safe.

If he killed them, it would hurt less, surely.

He would make it fast and easy, they would not have to deal with the pain much longer.

If he left it to the human, they would suffer.

They did not need to suffer more.

S̶a̶n̶s̶ Killer would make sure of that.

T̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶y̶ P̶a̶p̶y̶r̶u̶s̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ b̶a̶c̶k̶ a̶w̶a̶y̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ h̶i̶m̶ w̶i̶l̶l̶ a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ h̶a̶u̶n̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶. D̶e̶s̶p̶i̶t̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶e̶a̶r̶ i̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶'s̶ e̶y̶e̶s̶, a̶l̶l̶ h̶e̶ s̶a̶w̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶i̶s̶ b̶i̶g̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶.

H̶i̶s̶ b̶i̶g̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ w̶h̶o̶ p̶l̶u̶n̶g̶e̶d̶ a̶ k̶n̶i̶f̶e̶ i̶n̶ h̶i̶s̶ c̶h̶e̶s̶t̶, t̶h̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶ w̶h̶o̶ b̶e̶t̶r̶a̶y̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ b̶l̶e̶e̶d̶ o̶u̶t̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶o̶u̶t̶ a̶ r̶e̶s̶p̶o̶n̶s̶e̶, s̶t̶e̶p̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶v̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶c̶a̶r̶f̶ h̶e̶ c̶h̶e̶r̶i̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ s̶o̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶n̶e̶s̶s̶.

Killer felt nothing about that any longer, it had been a while since those events happened. It didn’t matter to him, they forgot him when he left with the last reset, afterall.

T̶h̶e̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ s̶o̶ s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶-̶

From those days, Killer learned the price one pays for loving another.

A mistake he refused to repeat. He learned his lesson, he was not stupid.

T̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶.

It was no issue for a long time, especially after he met the one who called himself “Nightmare”. A̶ f̶i̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ n̶a̶m̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ f̶r̶e̶a̶k̶ o̶f̶ n̶a̶t̶u̶r̶e̶. T̶h̶a̶t̶ c̶r̶u̶e̶l̶, v̶i̶l̶e̶ c̶r̶e̶a̶t̶u̶r̶e̶-̶ With him, Killer did not have to feel. He didn't worry about it anymore, he didn’t need to feel guilty anymore.

It was freeing.

I̶f̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶h̶a̶n̶d̶, f̶r̶e̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶h̶a̶c̶k̶l̶e̶s̶ o̶f̶ s̶h̶a̶m̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ o̶p̶e̶n̶ s̶p̶a̶c̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ n̶e̶w̶ o̶n̶e̶s̶. H̶i̶s̶ f̶r̶a̶g̶i̶l̶e̶ m̶i̶n̶d̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶a̶k̶e̶ a̶n̶y̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ l̶o̶n̶g̶e̶r̶, d̶e̶s̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ a̶ s̶o̶l̶u̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ h̶e̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ d̶u̶g̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶ g̶r̶a̶v̶e̶.

S̶t̶u̶c̶k̶ o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ d̶e̶b̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ b̶e̶ c̶a̶p̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ o̶f̶ r̶e̶p̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶, t̶u̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ a̶ t̶o̶o̶l̶, a̶ t̶o̶y̶ i̶n̶ r̶e̶t̶a̶l̶i̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.

If he was unable to feel, then the sensations in his chest were simply illness. His immune system was good, but even it gave out sometimes as any other one did.

It didn’t have anything to do with the one he had become so accustomed to, no.

He was too wounded to feel anything anymore, let alone one as pure as love.

Wound, after wound, after wound. Everything ached as he had been gutted of all empathy. Once fighting for love and now left with nothing, without the right to even dream of it any more.

Once with a gift of feeling so deeply, free as one could be in the underground, relaxed and happy.

The memories have never felt so distant.

A being made of events wrapped up together, trying to piece a person and falling apart constantly. That’s what he is.

A fraud, a construction of failed images and ideals, betrayal, dishonestly, filth all in a person’s form.

Something he would never qualify to truly be. Afterall, the soul has its own memory, his will never forget what he has done.

The blood that stains his hand is heavy from the sheer amount, but he has not the time to think about that.

But..

That man- the colours he brought into his world, these feelings that made him want something else-

Killer hated it. H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ b̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ t̶o̶.

He hated the way the other would always talk to him like a friend. Like he was an old familiar, the same as anyone else. He knew of Killer’s behavior and yet he never faltered.

When Killer decided to finally let him in, he learned the other's name was Colour.

Quite fitting. M̶u̶c̶h̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶.

Something about him drew Killer in. He didn’t know when it started- When he got so attached.

Killer didn’t deserve his kindness.

Colour never listened.

Killer warned him a multitude of times. Befriending someone like him will only end in pain. Colour only smiled at him, shrugging his shoulders.

“Doesn’t everything? Might as well do what I want to, won't you humor me?”

Speechless, he did.

Killer didn’t realize when they’d gotten so close. Before he knew it, all of his free time was spent with the man or thinking about him. He had something to look forward to for the first time in years.

It terrified him.

I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶m̶a̶r̶e̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶ a̶n̶d̶ k̶i̶l̶l̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶. A̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ S̶t̶a̶g̶e̶ 4̶ c̶a̶m̶e̶ o̶u̶t̶ a̶n̶d̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ c̶o̶m̶e̶ t̶o̶ c̶h̶e̶r̶i̶s̶h̶ i̶n̶ s̶h̶r̶e̶d̶s̶, i̶f̶ n̶o̶t̶ d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶. C̶o̶l̶o̶u̶r̶ i̶n̶s̶i̶s̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶o̶l̶d̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶ w̶e̶l̶l̶, b̶u̶t̶ h̶i̶s̶ r̶e̶f̶u̶s̶a̶l̶ t̶o̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶h̶o̶w̶ i̶t̶ made K̶i̶l̶l̶e̶r̶ d̶o̶u̶b̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ a̶n̶ e̶x̶t̶e̶n̶t̶. H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶'s̶ e̶n̶d̶, n̶o̶t̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ d̶i̶f̶f̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶.

…

They were supposed to be safe.

Months of planning. Countless trials and tricks, effort beyond what Killer ever expected a person to invest into saving him had finally resulted in his freedom.

His complete freedom.

The acceptance of it was a hard path to walk, but he never felt so loved.

If he ever doubted Colour’s dedication to helping him, he could no longer bring himself to after that. He owed the other everything, and for once it didn’t feel shameful. The strength he doubted before had been proven in front of him, a topic of conversation for weeks to follow. A̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ n̶o̶w̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ i̶f̶ h̶e̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶o̶ l̶o̶s̶e̶ c̶o̶n̶t̶r̶o̶l̶, C̶o̶l̶o̶u̶r̶ i̶s̶ c̶a̶p̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ o̶f̶ g̶e̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ r̶i̶d̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶.

Acknowledging his feelings was quite the wreck in and of itself. He could not go to Colour to ask, the man being the very subject of those feelings, but he had little else to go.

Denial only got him so far, Killer knew this feeling well.

It was love again, wasn’t it?

Maybe he was given a chance at being a person again?

..

And yet.

As his knees scraped against the ground, covering him in enough dust to the point it looked like it could have been his own mixing with the blood, Killer wondered if he was the laughingstock of every deity under the goddamn sun.

(If there were any, he knew they despised him. After all, a jester of the likes of him would never see the heaven they reside in. Yet, they had it in them to rip away the closest thing to one he will ever lay his eyes upon.)

After all of that effort.

All the work they put in.

Killer had finally gotten better. They finally had a chance, it was so close to being worth it.

Colour healed him, put him back together.

The very man who kept him in one piece, held him like he was the most fragile thing in the multiverse with such gentleness, was the one Killer found himself clinging onto.

He was colder than he should ever be.

Colour hated the cold.

Killer refused to believe the scene in front of him was real, truly, it felt like another one of his realistic night terrors.

Colour would never die on him like this.

And yet the limp weight in his hands told him otherwise.

This was a scene he was long familiar with, why did it hurt so much?

He knew better than to get attached, why did this hurt so much?

Colour was too good for him. He was never meant to be roped into this situation, he never deserved to be tangled in this mess. He was a good person, the best person Killer had ever had the honor of knowing.

If his suffering meant getting to experience the other’s warmth and comfort, then maybe it wasn’t all pointless.

..The missing fraction in the other’s head had gotten bigger. Instead of taking up the space of one of his eyes, it had teetered to them both.

The colours Killer loved seeing so much had gone dull, extinguished by his anguish.

He didn’t know what to do.

Killer’s eyes stung as his vision blurred, he pulled the other’s lifeless body as close to his as possible.

Perhaps he was crazy, wishing to hear a beat, feel a pulse, while holding the other.

Killer’s arms ached, he couldn’t feel the rise and fall of his chest anymore either.

He was gone.

The dust was his, and Killer would never get to see him again.

In his state, Killer failed to notice the figure approaching him. Towering over his hunched form was another he had found himself drawn to.

While it was not in the same speed, let alone situation, he always found Cross quite the interesting man.

The newbie to their little group, a clueless man who lost his world, trapped in a body with the ghost of a child who nearly killed them all. H̶o̶w̶ f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶r̶.

He was a funny little thing, easy to mess with and even easier to get reactions out of. Quite entertaining when Killer had nothing better to do with his days.

Killer was the first to notice the way Nightmare toyed with Cross. All too familiar, praise and mockery blended into sentences that would make one question their sanity. The man did not lie, but that didn’t mean he was honest either. A fact he never hid and more often than not, used against everyone who fell into his grip.

He tried to warn the monochrome one before, but his comments elicited no response. Killer didn’t bother to question it too much until the other approached him on his own once.

He couldn’t remember what happened that day.

His head hurt.

Cross stopped when his head lifted.

Their eyes had not met, Killer facing the same direction in front of him. Despite his inability to see what the other was holding, he could make a good guess on what was going on at the very least.

“Killer?”

The teary one’s head snapped in his direction before turning back to whatever was keeping him occupied. Cross didn’t have a chance to examine his expression, but that single glance was enough to tell him all he needed.

Only one person could get that reaction out of Killer, and judging by the dust, he was gone.

Killer’s whispers were inaudible, though he could make out a why.

Cross does not speak, as it is not his place to answer. The one being questioned is long gone, he will not return to answer no matter how much they may want it.

Suddenly, his voice spikes.

“Real nice of you to join us, what, the newbie wanted to feel good? Or is it that you’re glad someone else feels the way you did losin’ all of ‘em?”

His world.

Biting back a remark, Cross kept his mouth shut. Killer was the farthest from stable he'd been in a long time. This was a habit the other had, according to what Dust had told him. In a vulnerable position all Killer knew was to kick and scream, pushing people away until he could lash out and break himself enough to not feel anymore.

The fact he was still unharmed standing as close as he did was a miracle all on its own. Killer's body tensed as footsteps approached him again, his hands shaking more in tandem as he gripped onto the torn jacket in front of them like it would bring the man who held his heart back to them.

It would not, the stillness under his hands hurt more.

Colour was never this still, he hated feeling stuck.

He was in pain and Cross is the only one he has left.

“I can see you holding your emotions back from here, you can grieve if you wish to. Loss is unbearably” He began, trying to offer any comfort he could.

“‘Grief’? Am I allowed to feel that?” Killer’s voice had only sounded this empty on two other occasions, Cross shuddered mentally at the memory.

“What do you mean”

“After what I’ve done to all the others y’know? I shouldn’t even be capable of feeling this it’s not— what would make me worthy of it?”

“Killer—”

“Am I allowed to do such a thing? Mourn the loss of somethin’?”

Cross sighed.

Killer’s grip on the coat tightened, at this point his hands were probably bleeding through the fabric.

The fact Colour did not dust as quickly as any other monsters was not really helping their predicament, Killer could not bring himself to look at his face.

The pedestal Killer placed him on was crumbling just like his body, to say Cross could stand watching it was a lie.

They had spoken, become friends once upon a time.

Nothing that mattered now, he was gone.

Gone just like everyone else Cross had ever valued.

“That’s what he’d want you to do? Say something along the lines of how you don’t earn the right to feel sad”

In all seriousness Cross was pulling that entirely out of nowhere. He had no idea what Colour would have said in a situation like this, he had a way with words neither of them ever quite got to.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Killer let out a small giggle, likely at his words. The small smile on Cross’s face dropped when that laughter quickly turned into sobs.

Killer’s hand found itself covering his mouth immediately, trying to conceal any sound that came out of it.

He would not be weak like this.

He shook like a leaf in the wind, more fragile than he ever looked before.

This was not Killer before him, it was not the apathetic murderer he had heard so much about.

It was a boy his age broken by circumstance, one who lost his world the moment he got to have it.

His hope was torn out of his hands the moment he felt comfortable enough to dare and imagine a better existence.

Cross could not find the words to comfort him.

H̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ h̶o̶w̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ a̶l̶l̶, s̶o̶ w̶h̶y̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶e̶ b̶e̶ a̶b̶l̶e̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ s̶o̶ s̶i̶m̶i̶l̶a̶r̶?̶

Seating himself next to the other, he gently pulled Killer’s hand aside, gripping it just tightly enough to keep it in place.

Killer didn’t look him in the face, but he didn’t need to.

The man basically launched himself into the taller’s embrace, all the walls Cross saw him put up crumbling in record speed as cries choked their way out of him.

Grief, confusion, sadness, betrayal, hurt, all hitting him at once.

The emotional baggage he carried was never light, but it would never change.

The one who could have made it do so was never coming back.

Killer didn’t even get to say goodbye.

He would never be coming back.

[asukamood]

I'm trying to prove a point to my brain: Reblog if you think fanfiction does not need sex to be good.

There is a trend I’ve noticed that smut fics tend to be much more popular than anything else and honestly I just want to have something to look at to remind myself and that writing doesn’t have to have sex to be worth putting out into the community.

[asukamood]

Promotion (Dream & Finch)

***

I am done with Hacker’s birthday one-shot so I can finally focus on other Dreamswap stuff! If anyone was wondering, I am going to continue some series I have going on but for now, take this little treat!

(Finch is underappreciated, try to change my mind, I dare you.)

By the way, if anyone had noticed a downgrade in my writing abilities then no you did not (I’m wholeheartedly blaming school on that for screwing my brain up.)

Enjoy your reading!

***

Warnings: Death threat, strong language, mentioned assassination attempt

Timeline: Finch, ever since his AU’s rescue, has been working as a simple officer for JR. The current captain of justice, captain Smith, is his superior and has taken him under his wing along with his former training officer Lopez.

Synopsis: “My Lord, may I suggest someone to you? I know that my words might carry little value, but I think they are worth hearing out.” Captain Smith said, making Dream pause, lifting his head to stare at him.

“Proceed.” The captain put his hat back on his head, thanking him with a nod.

“His name is Finch Hendrikson.” Dream’s eye twitched at the mention of the officer’s name but he did not say anything, letting the other continue. “He has joined our ranks fairly recently as an officer but that young man has talent, and I do believe that he has the potential to become a great captain someday.”

***

“You wish to take your leave?” Dream repeated, finally lifting his head from the paperwork spread out on his desk.

The other nodded, his hat pressed against his heart. “Yes, my Lord. I am getting quite rusty, and I fear that I might soon be unable to fulfill my duties to you.”

“That is a valid cause of concern yes.” He pulled out an empty sheet of paper, scribbling on it about the current situation they were facing. “I will get your payment for your last month the day of your retirement. Is it okay with you if I schedule it for next week? I still need to find a way to fill that opening you just created.” He muttered the last part, loud enough however for the other to hear.

“My Lord, may I suggest someone to you? I know that my words might carry little value, but I think they are worth hearing out.” Captain Smith said, making Dream pause, lifting his head to stare at him.

“Proceed.” The captain put his hat back on his head, thanking him with a nod.

“His name is Finch Hendrikson.” Dream’s eye twitched at the mention of the officer’s name but he did not say anything, letting the other continue. “He has joined our ranks fairly recently as an officer but that young man has talent, and I do believe that he has the potential to become a great captain someday.”

“How long has he been working under you?” He leaned on his chair, straightening up as he crossed his arms around his chest.

“Around three years, Lord Dream.” He answered.

“During these three years, has he ever shown any suspicious behavior?” The captain shook his head, smiling.

“No sir, he’s the most pure-hearted boy I’ve ever seen.” Dream nodded, reaching for his cell phone.

“Very well, I will conduct some more research on him later, but I am willing to give him a chance.” The captain’s smile widened at hearing that.

“I am pleased to hear that, my Lord. I promise this will be worth your time.” Dream stood up; his phone raised to his ear.

“You are dismissed, captain. Go back to your unit.” The man bowed down before leaving the room.

***

The next day, beginning of shift

“Officer Hendrikson?” Smith called out as he noticed the young man with the scar on his eye coming. Said one lifted his head, nodding as a greeting as he came over.

“Yes, sir? Is there anything you need?” Smith smiled brightly as he pat his shoulder affectionally.

“You are not going to be with Officer Lopez today, she’s sick.” Finch looked a bit disappointed at the news but said nothing. “I’ll transfer you to another team of mine, I hope you don’t mind that?”

Finch shook his head. “No, sir. There is no problem with that.”

“Perfect!” He clapped his hands, content. “If my memory serves me right, that team should be getting some new blood today, how do you feel about trying that young recruit the ropes? My planned training officer told me he had to take the day off to take care of his daughter today so we’re still missing one.”

Finch blinked in surprise, before frowning. “Sir, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean--” He sighed. “I would be honored to do this for you, but I only recently finished my training myself. Are you sure I am up for the task?”

Smith scoffed. “Don’t underestimate yourself Finch, I am certain that you have the capacity to do that.”

Finch nodded, not seemingly convinced by his words. “What is the name of this new recruit?”

“It’s Banes, you might also be careful with her, I heard from one of my officers that she was really clumsy.” Finch brought out a notepad, writing down the information as he listened.

“Very well, I won’t let you down sir.”

Smith smiled. “I’m sure you won’t, officer Hendrikson.”

***

“Officer Banes?” Finch called out, a young woman jumping to her feet as she heard.

“Yes, sir!” She enthusiastically exclaimed to which three other people behind her raised an eyebrow, looking at each other as they wondered if they looked as energetic back in the day as they took long sips of coffee.

“Greetings.” He said as he walked over to her. “I’m Officer Hendrikson, the one who will oversee you today. Before we begin anything, do you have any question?”

The rookie shook her head no. “No, sir.”

“Very well.” He thought about how his first day went, recalling that the officer he was assigned to had him prepare their ‘shop’ or so that is how he had called their car back then. “Would you mind getting the shop prepared then? Do you know where to get the equipment?”

Officer Banes nodded enthusiastically, beaming. “Yes, I can do that!” She then ran away.

Finch honestly was happy she was this eager to start the day.

However, that did not change the fact she was running in the wrong direction.

He sighed as he ran after her, noting how fast she was.

That was a strength that could eventually come in handy. After all, a lot of what they did usually consisted of running after suspects and criminals.

As the day progressed, Finch noticed that Officer Banes was making a lot of mistakes. That was only natural, considering that it was her first day at the job, but he could not help but note how her mistakes ranged from plain stupid to the most subtle ones.

The frequency of them also shocked him and the anticipation he would sometimes catch also quite odd. However, he chose not to ask questions and simply pointed out her mistakes and provided a solution to them. She would nod at his explanations and seemed to catch up quickly, never making the same mistake twice once he had pointed them out.

Perhaps, he should have been more suspicious of that behavior, but he ultimately decided to move past it, feeling like it would be best for him to.

As the clock hit 12 a.m., another officer walked toward the duo, introducing himself as the officer originally assigned to the newbie. He shook Finch’s hand, thanking him profusely for substituting for him and apologizing for any inconvenience.

After he reassured him that it was no issue, family always comes first after all, Officer Banes and the other left him alone, chatting quietly as they walked away.

It was about time he headed for lunch; he promised the captain to report how the training went over lunch anyway. He began walking toward the cafeteria only to stop dead in his tracks as he passed by a certain corridor.

The architecture of the Justice Reigns’ headquarters was... confusing, to say the least. Every hallway, while each linked to one another, when put together was a real labyrinth.

If people usually got lost in the halls, it was also perfect to hide somewhere and discuss things you would not want others to overhear. It seemed to be the case there and unfortunately for them, Finch seemed to be just in earshot for the conversation to be heard from where he was standing.

“Fuck that damn organization!” Finch stopped dead in his tracks, slowly looking at the source of the noise.

Another man shushed the first one. “Quiet down, will you? Just because we are not filmed here does not mean that nobody can hear us!” He reminded the other, whispering aggressively. From where Finch was standing, he could make out three silhouettes in the hallways.

He decided to move a little closer, ensuring that he would be out of view from those three.

“He’s right.” The one on the right whispered back. “If anyone finds out we plan on poisoning Lord Dream then we’re going to get into serious trouble.”

Finch had to shut his jaw tightly not to make any noise or at the very least jump at their throat. He needed to gather more information.

“Ugh, this whole thing would have been way easier if we could have just gathered more people to help carrying that plan.” Finch advanced again, looking at where their badges would usually be. Thankfully, he managed to gather their three names as they continued to speak.

Eventually, they walked away from their original location, allowing Finch to leave the area as well without being caught eavesdropping. He quickly joined the captain, who had already been waiting for him.

Once he noticed the younger officer entering the room, he immediately waved at him. Finch hurried in his direction and Smith did not even have the time to greet him as Finch had already begun speaking.

“Sir, could I talk to you in private?” At his expression, Smith’s smile quickly faded away as he nodded.

“Of course, follow me.” The duo moved to a quieter place. “What is it?”

Finch looked over his shoulders twice, making sure no one was overhearing before he began speaking. “I caught three officers speaking of attempting to poison Lord Dream.”

Smith’s eyes immediately narrowed. “That’s a pretty grave accusation you are making here, Officer Finch. Are you sure of what you are saying?”

Finch nodded. “Yes, would you like me to give you more details?”

“Pray tell.” He wrote down everything Finch had to offer before lifting his head. “Do you have any evidence that this conversation happened? Like CCTV footage or a recording?”

Finch paused and resisted the urge to facepalm. How could he have forgotten to do that? He regrettably shook his head no.

“Very well, I will bring up the incident later. Thank you for notifying me.”

***

Later that day, he was called to Dream’s office.

Thinking that he was simply going to be asked about the incident that he reported earlier, he walked calmly toward the man’s office, albeit a bit nervous. No matter how convinced he was that he did nothing wrong, he could not help being nervous about standing face to face with the organization's leader.

Typically, officers like him never got the chance to ever interact with him. They would listen to his speeches like a normal citizen but never have a discussion. That privilege was reserved for the higher-ups.

He could hope that things would go smoothly as he knocked at the imposing wooden doors.

He stood there, waiting, his arms tucked behind his back. Eventually, the door clicked open, bright golden wings poking out of the room before the owner appeared before him, as imposing as captain Smith had described him to be.

“You must be Officer Hendrikson.” He said, stepping aside and opening the doors wider. “Please come in, I have been waiting for you.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” He entered the room after a brief bow, the older man locking the door behind them.

He retreated behind his desk, gesturing for Finch to get in front of him. “Captain Smith informed me of a scheme made to assassinate me and told me that you were the one to report it.” He began, eyeing Finch with an unreadable expression. “He told me you were able to identify the potential perpetrators?”

Finch nodded. “Do you know of anyone who might have listened in to the conversation?” He shook his head.

“No one else did, to my knowledge. There was no one in the area that I was standing in, and I could not see anyone else at the other end of the hallway.”

“I see.” Dream hummed; his eyes narrowed. “Officer Hendrikson, would it bother you if I were to ask you another question?”

Was it him or was the atmosphere getting heavier by the second?

“Not at all, what can I do for you?” As soon as Finch ended his sentence, he blinked and found himself looking straight at a Glock.

He froze in shock, Dream’s eyes cold as he stared at the other man. “How can I know you were not one of said suspects before you chickened out on them? Captain Smith told me you were on your way to the cafeteria when you just so happened to overhear their conversation, and no one else was around to testify in your favor. Now, is that not absurdly convenient?”

Finch stiffened at the accusation, gulping as the gun seemed to stare him down. He had to say something, and fast. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rapid heart rate.

“You are right, I am unable to offer any proof of my innocence in this matter but my words. When I joined Justice Reigns, I swore under oath to stay loyal to you and all the people we help every day. I plan on fulfilling this promise I made to you and myself but if this reassurance is not enough to satisfy you, I would be glad to let you pull the trigger here and now to prove my loyalty and my honor as an officer.”

He lifted his head to look at the other man’s unfazed gaze. Truth be told, he was scared to feel the bullet pierce his chest, but if that was the price to show the other his gratitude for everything, he would gladly accept it.

Dream stayed with his arm raised and his index hovering over the trigger before he smiled, redirecting the gun toward the ceiling before pulling the trigger. Only a click was let out.

“The chamber is empty.” Dream said, smiling at Finch’s expression that was a perfect mix of confusion and shock. The older one lowered the gun before placing it on his desk, crossing his arm as he stared at the other. “While you did not fully pass this test, it is clear to me that captain Smith was right about you.”

“I... What?” Finch was so lost, what was he talking about? “My Lord, I don’t think I understand, what are you talking about?”

“Officer Hendrikson, do you know what the main difference is between an officer’s function and a captain?” Still confused, Finch hesitated.

“The captain ensures both the people’s and the officers’ safety?” Dream nodded.

“In simple terms, yes. The division captain is the one who not only reports to me but is also the one who the officers will naturally come to for advice and guidance, as well as protection. How can a captain who is not even capable of protecting themself ever hope to be capable of protecting the weak, the vulnerable?”

Finch was briefly reminded of the time captain Smith personally came to refute a misdemeanor he was accused of. He quickly shook his head to focus on the conversation he was having.

“Hierarchy is an important pillar of society.” Dream continued. “However, it means nothing when one endangers the other.”

He took the Glock on the desk back, pointing at Finch again. With the knowledge that it could not fire any bullet, Finch relaxed just a little.

“I’m your superior, your employer but the moment I raise a finger or a weapon at you, I become your assailant. No matter what relationship we share—I could be your friend, your grandfather, your coworker—the moment I do this, I become your assailant and potential killer.”

He lowered his gun once more.

“From that point on, it does not matter how much power I hold over you or how much I may mean to you, you fight back. Kill me, if you must. If in a life-or-death situation, you hesitate to do so because of my status, then there is no point in pursuing this career. If my officers cared that much about this hierarchy then half of the criminals imprisoned here would run free.”

Finch nodded as Dream sat down at his desk, inviting Finch to do the same.

“Now, you must be wondering why I am telling you all this.” He crossed his legs. “Officer Hendrikson, after careful consideration of your test results, I have decided to listen to the wise advice of Captain Smith, and I am hereby offering you a promotion.”

Finch was quite positive, his jaw just dropped to the floor. “A... A promotion?”

“Yes, I am offering you to become my next Captain of Justice since the position will open soon.” He replied calmly.

“It’s...” He was at a loss for words. “An honor, really, but what do you mean an opening? Is Captain Smith resigning?”

Dream nodded. “Regrettably, but before leaving he did request that I consider you a candidate for the job.” He chuckled at Finch’s expression. “To answer your upcoming question, I am well aware that you have not sent an application for a promotion. In Justice Reigns, I’m the only one who has the authority to nominate who gets promoted and when. Being a division captain is a far too important role to allow any cocky and power-hungry officer to apply.”

That did make sense. “You also spoke of test results, but I don’t remember taking any?”

Dream looked shocked before chuckling. “You did not realize it yet? Officer Hendrikson, you have been passing test after test today.” Finch’s eyes blew wide open.

“One with your ‘trainee’ to test your knowledge of standard protocols, the way you treated someone of a lower status than you and your capacity to guide them. A second one during lunch with that fake complot against me to test your loyalty—I have enough work as is, I do not have the time to deal with rats in my organization—Another in the second half of your shift to see how you worked and your relationship with your coworkers and finally one with me.” Dream explained, as Finch finally realized that his entire shift was pretty much a test.

“That-- They were all working for the undercover unit, were they not?” Dream smiled.

“I see you’re getting the hang of it. Yes, they were. They acted as examiners and provided me with their critics. Pair that with your bodycam footage and I had an almost perfect way to determine your potential.” He stood up once more.

“I have to say, I am quite impressed with your results. Apart from the inability to draw your gun at me when I threatened to take your life, everything else is perfect.” Finch was unsure of what to do so he only followed his superior with his eyes. “I see what Captain Smith saw in you. Of course, you have every right to refuse the offer, and I will not make you choose today but give it a thought, alright?”

He nodded, standing up again.

“Perfect, for now you are dismissed then.” Finch bowed down to him before leaving the room, feeling way lighter than he had when he first arrived there.

***

“Captain!” Finch called out as he ran toward said one. The older man smiled as he saw him, waving.

“Hi, Lord Dream told me how your exam went.” He pat him on the shoulder. “You did a great job, congratulations on your results.”

Finch could feel himself tear up, but he forced the emotion down.

“Thank you but... are you really going to resign?” Smith looked at him before chuckling.

“What’s with the long face? I’m getting older, it’s only natural that I would end up retiring soon. You still have my contact anyway if you need anything, don’t think this is the last you will see of me.”

“You’re right, my apologies.”

“Anyway, your promotion has to be celebrated one way or another, do you want to go grab a drink?” Finch smiled.

“I would love to.”

[asukamood]

Chapter 3: It’s Augustine! (DPOV)

***

Previous Part — Next Part

First Part

***

Sorry for being dead everyone, I was getting screwed over for a while lol

***

Warnings: Disturbing imagery, not quite a panic attack but close, implied smoking

Synopsis: “Sooo-” He gestured toward the snowman he built a few moments prior to this conversation. “I made this little snow friend to calm my mind!”

Augustine followed Winnie’s eyes and his expression morphed into one of pure confusion and distraught as he stared at the snowman.

“Cute, right? Say hi to him!” At his hopeful tone, Augustine turned to him with one of the most disapproving faces humankind has ever created before turning back to it.

***

Winnie breathed in deeply through his nose, watching in half-admiration, half-despair the smoky cloud that left his mouth as he exhaled slowly, his hands rubbing against his arms to get warmer.

Snow continued to pile up around him, the storm seeming to only get worse by the second.

He turned to look in the direction of his car as Augustine investigated, Winnie able to discern his friend’s silhouette moving around the machine. Although, he soon found himself unable to even do that, the snowstorm worsening and drastically decreasing his visibility.

Now, he couldn’t even see his friend’s shadow beyond the mist.

Apart from the howling of the wind, Winnie was not able to hear any noise, not even the familiar crunch of Augustine’s boots as he walked. It... felt quite lonely.

Winnie gritted his teeth as he stood up, deeming it too dangerous to stay still crouched as he was. The snow level was increasing rapidly, and being buried underneath snow was certainly not part of his bucket list.

He felt like he was suffocating as is, he did not need to actually suffocate.

He took a step forward, careful not to fall in the process.

His limbs looked like they were starting to freeze, moving them felt like trying to start up some old and rusty machine. It worried him deeply, considering he was talking about his own flesh and bones.

He took another difficult step before stopping dead in his track as he managed to catch a glimpse of a shadow through the mist. He would have gladly assumed that it was Augustine.

Only he knew that Augustine was not seven foot tall and clearly did not move that fast.

His breathing sped up again, the panic and the cold making his head spin.

He felt like he would fall into unconsciousness any second now, his head heavy and legs weak. He shook his head, trying to keep his breathing stable.

That shadow he saw was most likely a figment of his imagination, he did not need to panic.

However, no matter how much he repeated it to himself, it did little to comfort him.

“Auggy?” He tried calling the other, a hint of desperation in his voice. At the lack of an answer from the other, he tried again, this time louder. “Augustine!”

Still nothing.

Of course he would not be able to hear him, the wind was so loud, it probably carried his voice in the wrong direction anyway.

He crouched down again, staring at the pile of snow in front of him.

... Augustine was not present, but that did not mean he was unable to be here.

Ignoring the way his hands reacted to the contact of the snow, Winnie carefully shaped a snowman, poking two holes and a curved line on the smaller ball-shaped snow on top of the other to make a face.

He stood there staring at it almost longingly before he started to speak.

“Alright Auggy, we are going to be okay; we just need to be patient.” He said aloud, putting his hand on the snowman’s head. His hand definitely hated him for it if the forming frostbite was anything to go from, but thanks to that, he at least got his heart rate to decrease a little, his chest feeling somewhat lighter.

However, any progress he made was completely discarded as he looked up and saw that the enormous shadow he saw before was approaching. It was moving quickly, too quickly even.

In a second, it felt like that entity was right in front of him. He saw two pairs of abnormally bright red eyes staring straight into his soul, a shadow looming over the snowman.

Winnie let out a strident scream as he jumped to his feet and almost fell back down.

He was going to die.

Apart from the howling of the wind, another sound finally managed to reach his ears: a growl. An angry growl.

He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die--

“Winnie?!” Augustine’s voice was heard behind him as footsteps quickly approached him. Winnie blinked and suddenly, everything had disappeared, and he was standing.

There was no mist, no more growling, no more increasing snow level. The only thing left was the cold.

Why was he so cold?

He barely heard Augustine’s concerned questioning as he brought his trembling hands to his face. “My hands are freezing...”

“Then why were you building a snowman with your bare hands?!” Augustine’s tone mixed both disbelief and confusion, with a tiny speck of worry laced with them.

Winnie shook his head quickly. “No.” He repeated a couple times to get his mind back on the conversation he was having with Augustine. “That is not all there is to why I screamed!”

He was about to tell him about that horrible encounter he had just experienced but seeing Augustine’s already concerned face, he deemed it better if he kept his mouth shut, at least partially. Since everything left after Augustine came back, it must have been a sort of daydream or hallucination because of the cold, right?

There was no need to concern him with something like this.

There was no need to concern him with his petty problems.

“... Though it is a tinsy part of it.” He attempted to joke, only to sigh as Augustine was not taking that. He kept staring at him with the same expression he used to give him as a kid when he knew Winnie was trying to change the subject.

It had been a while since he had last seen that face. When was the last time they properly talked?

“When you were still investigating the car, I...” He paused to choose his words. Augustine did not need to be told that entire episode, most of it was probably just a nightmare anyway. It was a common thing to happen, certainly.

He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die--

Stop.

“I saw an ominous shadow moving in the distance through the snow...” He managed to croak out, the most pathetic voice crack he had ever heard leaving his mouth as he spoke.

“An... ominous shadow?” Augustine repeated, looking even more worried than he did previously.

“Yeah, it really scared me!” He continued, nervously laughing. He was not in the right state of mind to be answering any question the other might have had so he quickly changed the subject once he saw the other’s lips part.

“Sooo-” He gestured toward the snowman he built a few moments prior to this conversation. “I made this little snow friend to calm my mind!”

Augustine followed Winnie’s eyes and his expression morphed into one of pure confusion and distraught as he stared at the snowman.

“Cute, right? Say hi to him!” At his hopeful tone, Augustine turned to him with one of the most disapproving faces humankind has ever created before turning back to it.

“Uh...” He scratched his neck. “Hi there, snowman.” He greeted, using the most deadpan tone imaginable.

Winnie let out an offended pout.

“You can’t just call him that!” He scolded, only earning an eyebrow raise from the other. “You gotta call him by his name!” He reminded him, taking great joy in seeing the other’s wide eyes.

“Wha...” Augustine let out, bewildered. “You even named it?” Then, a little later, with hesitation: “... What is it?”

Winnie’s lips stretched into a wide smile as he crouched next to the snowman, once again putting his hand on the snowman’s head. In a way, its face was reflecting Winnie’s own smile.

“Augustine!” He joyfully exclaimed, patting the snowman. Winnie would have gladly hugged the little lad if not for the fact he was on the verge of hypothermia and a breakdown.

It was Augustine’s turn to be offended, the other’s eyebrows furrowing immediately as his jaw dropped open. “Why is it my name?! Wouldn’t that just be confusing?!”

Winnie laughed warmly at his face. He then replied without missing a beat that he could then be called Augustine 2, he did bring up a good point, it would be confusing to have the two of them have the same name!

“Why am I 2?!” At this point, Augustine was not even offended, he was just confused out of his mind. By the way his face was looking, there was no doubt that Augustine was questioning whether that cake he ate that very morning was actually filled with drugs rather than vanilla cream.

Winnie opened his mouth to say something but immediately shut it close as he heard a noise behind him.

He stood up immediately and spun back around to face his friend. “Anyway!” He clapped his hands to get the other’s attention.

“I don’t think we should stay here for much longer...” His eyes dimmed as his smile disappeared. “I have a bad feeling.”

Then, the reason Augustine left in the first place hit him again. “Oh yeah, what about you?” At his confusion, he continued: “Did you find anything?”

“It says the fuel’s all out.” Winnie frowned but said nothing. He was quite certain that he had filled the tank to the brim right before their little road trip. “So, the car probably won’t move, and we’ll need a heat source for the frozen parts inside.”

Augustine paused his speech, glancing at Winnie like he was upset at him for something. Winnie tilted his head quizzically. What did he do this time?

“... Couldn’t find the lighter.” He finally muttered after a few seconds, looking away from Winnie.

It finally hit him.

He must have found his cigarettes.

For some reason, that knowledge made him extremely uncomfortable.

He promised himself he would throw away the cigarettes eventually, why did he not do it yet?

“Ah...” He scratched his neck, feeling his chest tightened again. “That...”

They had other things to worry about right now, that habit of his could wait.

“I... left it in my room somewhere!” He smiled brightly again. “Since it’s impossible for us to get there now, let’s look for something else!” He really hoped the topic would not be brought up again.

Augustine cringed. “Then that means... nothing will change if we stay by the car so--”

“--We have no choice but to walk forward!” Winnie completed his sentence, already cringing at the prospect of walking.

“Our number one priority is to find shelter...” Then he looked back at his car and his freezing skin. “Plus, heat and fuel!”

He really hoped whatever he had seen before would not come bothering him again.

“Okay, tell me when you’re ready!” Augustine gave him a bummed-out look, to which Winnie responded by playfully slapping his back.

“Smile, smile! ~” He cheered, brushing the corners of his lips with his fingers, as if to show the way to smile. “We got this; we can do this!”

Imitating their school’s cheerleader team, he let out a few encouraging “Go!” and some... less coherent noises. Augustine facepalmed as he pushed Winnie forward.

“Stop hyping this up and just go!” He scolded before walking ahead.

Winnie nodded but a few seconds later, he could tell he was right about dreading to begin walking away. He was freezing. What would normally take him two seconds to walk to instead took him an agonizing fifteen and he felt fatigue settling in quickly.

He glanced forward and could already tell Augustine was getting frustrated with him again.

He was really trying to keep up with him, he really didn’t want to drag him down.

It seemed like no matter how hard he tried; he was just never good enough.

... Was he even still talking about keeping up with Augustine?

Augustine stopped walking.

He did not even have the energy to lift his head and face him.

Suddenly, the steps resumed but instead of getting further away, they got closer instead. Winnie glanced forward and found that Augustine was walking toward him. Ah, he was surely about to get scolded again.

He braced himself for the lecture he was about to get but before he could begin to apologize, the other stopped a few inches away from him, his arms crossed.

“Alright, get on my back.” Winnie blinked twice, wondering if he heard that right.

“Ah?” He smiled, a little confused. This was unlike the current Augustine.

“You obviously can’t walk because of the cold. I’ll carry you.”

Goddamn it, he was bothering him again. Why did Augustine always have to slow down for Winnie? He should not have to.

“Y... You sure?” He hated how his voice sounded so weak. “You don’t have to overdo it...”

“Since when did you care about that?” Augustine raised an eyebrow, the words feeling like the other boy had poured a whole bag of salt into an open wound. He had always cared, was it that hard to see? “I said it’s fine, just stop wasting more time and--”

Winnie cut him off. “But if I trouble you, you’ll-”

You’ll be mad at me again.

“I got this,” Augustine resumed. “I can lift you up easy and--”

“I said, I don’t need it.” Augustine glanced in surprise at his cold tone.

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds before Augustine let out a bitter laugh. “What? Don’t want a trash like me carrying you around?” Winnie whipped his head up as he heard that. “Would that be too embarrassing for you?” He mocked, a smile that did not reach his ears on his face.

“It’s not like that...!” Winnie protested; eyes teary. “Why do you keep talking like that...?” He could not understand, he just could not.

“Why do you keep talking like--” He was about to shout again before he stopped himself, breathing deeply through his nose. “Fine, whatever. It’s my fault for asking.”

Augustine left Winnie’s side again after that.

[asukamood]

Heard some important information on Twitter today, and thought I’d post it here for anyone who may not have heard it. This is actually a thing, devised by human rights organisation called Karma Nirvana.

Reblog to save a life?

[asukamood]

Bluetooth in 2024!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

[asukamood]

DUDE I LITERALLY JUST DID THIS

Whatever I’ll do it again-

1. GUY.exe by Superfruit

2. Control - Jex, Rival, Unknown Brain

3. GOOD LOYAL THOTS - Odetari

4. You & I - One Direction

5. Take Me To Church - Hozier

6. Michelle - Sir Chloe

7. dying on the inside - Nessa Barrett

8. Verbatim - Mother Mother

9. Stitches - Shawn Mendes

10. Six Feet Under - Billie Eillish

Thanks for the tag (I’m begging you not to tag me again-)

@dsdreams-leftball (I’m sorry I don’t know anyone else ;-;)

music tag game

AH SHEIT THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS IM SO SORRY @puzzl-d HAHAHA (THANKS FOR TAGGING ME THO I APPRECIATE IT BIG KISS)

Rules: shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people.

I Love by LiLiPi

Key Ingredient (Instrumentals) by Mili

Twit by Hwasa

Waltz from the ballet Glazunov A. "Lady Soubrette"

AYA by MAMAMOO

As if its Your Last by Blackpink

KiLLER LADY by 8-Prince-P (feat. Gumi)

Cry for Me (Eng. Ver) by TWICE

Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar

Shanti (Chogakusei Ver.) by wotaku

hork hork bold of you to assume I have 10 ppl I can tag, but hey if you see this and find this interesting then go do it! I'm not stopping you~

[asukamood]

I’M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG I WAS STRUGGLING T-T

Anyway

1. My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

2. I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski

3. Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood

4. All I Wanted by Paramore

5. Butterflies by Isabel LaRosa

6. dying on the inside by Nessa Barrett

7. I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

8. Friends by Chase Atlantic

9. Fight or Flight by Conan Gray

10. God Must Hate Me by Catie Turner

Thanks for the tag :D

@jaywaslost @leaffallenguy (sorry ya’ll, as I said I’m pretty friendless so ;-;)

music tag game

AH SHEIT THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS IM SO SORRY @puzzl-d HAHAHA (THANKS FOR TAGGING ME THO I APPRECIATE IT BIG KISS)

Rules: shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people.

I Love by LiLiPi

Key Ingredient (Instrumentals) by Mili

Twit by Hwasa

Waltz from the ballet Glazunov A. "Lady Soubrette"

AYA by MAMAMOO

As if its Your Last by Blackpink

KiLLER LADY by 8-Prince-P (feat. Gumi)

Cry for Me (Eng. Ver) by TWICE

Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar

Shanti (Chogakusei Ver.) by wotaku

hork hork bold of you to assume I have 10 ppl I can tag, but hey if you see this and find this interesting then go do it! I'm not stopping you~