writingstothevoid

[writingstothevoid]

My submission for Star Sans Poly Week, day one: Flowers. The work will also included in the read more but I wanted to also add the ao3 link.

@starsanspolyweek

Dream had been around a long, long time. Even when discounting his centuries in stone, his age still reached well past a mortal lifespan. It was no surprise, then, that he sometimes found himself caught up in the past. It was better now than it had once been. Between his lovers, friends, and the years between now and then, it was easier to stay within the confines of the present.

Dream was, admittedly, extremely grateful for the development. Though there were many things about the present he didn’t fully comprehend, he couldn’t deny that he was happier now than he had (probably) ever been and his lapses in time were rarely pleasant.

Today, however, seemed to be an exception. Of course, it was not a flashback or memory, but still. No, today’s memory came during a routine trip to the Omega Timeline. He had stumbled upon a large farmer’s market and deigned to explore it to his leisure. Blue and Ink were both occupied and would not mind him being out later than expected; not to mention, he could use a bit of time to himself. Not that he didn’t love his partners dearly, but everyone needs alone time sometimes and he would revel in whatever he could get.

And it was there amongst stalls piled high with bread and soap and jewelry that he spotted it: an unassuming little thing with flowers of all different breeds and colors, manned by an older woman with a kind smile. He barely even registered what he was doing before he was in front of the lady, looking down at a card placed artfully on the table. Monica’s home-grown bouquets

Flowers for any and all occasions!

Ask attendant for historical meanings!

“Can I help you?” The voice brought Dream’s attention back to the present and he looked up, a bit flustered.

“Ah, no, I’m sorry, I was just looking,” He replied, hands affirming his disaffirmation. The woman – Monica? – smiled down at him, no malice apparent.

“No worries, love. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Dream looked back down at the card, then up to all the bouquets hanging haphazardly from the top of the tent. Historical meanings… he knew those, didn’t he? Or he had, at some point. They poked at his brain, filling it like smoke as he remembered the small nuances of the old society.

A single red rose for love, geraniums for sympathy, anemones for apologies. He was not certain about all (or really any of them) but he couldn’t help but feel they were right. Red was for romance, orange – enthusiasm, yellow – joy, white – purity.

“They make good gifts,” that same voice as before chimed in and Dream realized belatedly that he had been staring at a “lovers bouquet” of sorts. He flushed once more and started to stammer an apology before he finally processed what she had said. It had been awhile since he had gotten his partners something to show his gratitude, nor had they really been able to spend much time together the last few weeks outside of work and cohabitation.

“I quite like this one, although I could certainly help you find something more tailored,” she continued on as Dream finally came to a decision.

Blue stood in front of the spotless kitchen and freshly-set table, aching but proud of the work he had done that day. The last few weeks had been particularly busy for not only him but his lovers as well. They seemed to be constantly called out on missions to stop Nightmare’s Gang or Error or some other being that decided to reek havoc that day. With all the Negativity, Dream hadn’t been at his best and Ink was being dogged by the Creators more than usual meaning it was often just Dream and Blue against their opponents. It hadn’t been too bad, but it would not be a stretch to say that they were all well and truly exhausted. Today had been their first day off and each had chosen to take full advantage of it, Dream going into town, Ink locking himself in his room to paint, and Blue completing tasks around the house.

Many would say that doing chores didn’t truly count as relaxing (his brother, for example), but Blue felt a sense of calm in the menial chores that little could beat. Some music or an audiobook and he was good to zone out for the next several hours and reawaken to a cleaner house than when he started. Win, win!

Checking the clock once more, Blue decided it was high time he dragged his boyfriend out of his stupor for a little bit of dinner. He found him in the exact same position he had left him in hours earlier, albeit with a far more completed painting and even more art supplies scattered in a ritualistic circle around the artist.

“Ink,” Blue called out, keeping his voice just low enough to not startle the other while still being able to capture his attention. Well, in theory at least.

“Ink,” he called again and this time the little artist turned to look at him, blinking up at him like he had just woken up. Blue watched in real time as Ink recognized him and his face lit up, causing affection to bubble up through Blue’s soul.

“Blue!” he cried out, his voice scratchy from disuse. He attempted to stand but almost immediately fell over, his joints just as cranky as his voice at their stagnation. Blue lurched forwards to catch the guardian and helped him stand once more, holding him until his feet were steady at which point Ink immediately launched himself at his slightly taller boyfriend.

Blue laughed and hugged him back, loving his lover’s seemingly endless well of enthusiasm. He admitted it was something he certainly related to but Ink never seemed to be able to contain it and always reacted with as much emotion as he could muster. It was endearing to say the least and though his impulsivity was sometimes problematic it could also be, quite frankly, so damn adorable.

The artist pouted as Blue pushed him back just slightly but lit up once more at his next words. “Dinner’s ready,” the royal guard informed him. And just like that, Ink was gone, his footsteps surprisingly loud for such a small person. Blue followed behind with a small smile, closing the door to Ink’s workroom behind him. He knew how secretive the artist could be about his work and would never take advantage of the immense trust he showed in them by allowing them in there at all.

Ink sat already at the kitchen table, his feet and hands tapping against the floor and table respectively as he impatiently waited. Blue laughed again. “We have to wait for Dream, Ink.” Said artist attempted once more to pout but the excitement in seeing their other boyfriend again wiped out any genuine annoyance he could have.

Almost on cue, the door began to rattle as someone attempted to unlock the thing and enter. Ink shot up out of his seat and ran to greet Dream, only beaten by Blue because the royal guard had already been standing. Together they opened the door and were greeted with the sight of their boyfriend, his hands occupied with not just his keys but also two beautiful bouquets of flowers.

They all froze and a blush appeared on Dream’s skull as he shyly said hello. Ink was the first to shake himself out of his state and leaped up to drag the guardian into the house, leaving Blue to close the door behind them. The task took longer than it perhaps should have, likely because of Ink’s stubborn insistence on hugging the other as they moved.

“So,” Blue began, a smile (definitely not a smirk, no siree, he never smirked) stretching across his face. “What’s this all about?”

Dream flushed even further, detaching himself slightly from Ink in order to hold out one of the bouquets to Blue. “They’re for you,” he added quietly and handed the other one to Ink, whose eyelights had become a pair of pink and yellow stars. Blue blushed in spite of himself and gingerly took the offering, taking in the beauty of the thing.

“Those are anemone,” Dream was looking a little off to the side as he pointed at the largest flowers in the bunch, a couple of blue buds spread wide, unable to meet his lover’s eyes. “They are given as an affirmation of intelligence, love, and respect.”

He pointed to another, a beautiful cluster of pink, orange, and yellow petals. “These are lantana. They symbolize rigor, the determination to not only keep going but to do every task to the best of one’s ability.”

He drew closer to Blue who’s skull had begun to light up more and more. A quick glance up told him that Ink’s unusual silence came from his rapt attention set on the pair. It took a lot to hold his attention, even for a short stretch of time, and the thought that he was so invested did not help Blue’s condition.

“This is kalanchoe,” he rambled on as if afraid he wouldn’t be able to get it all out if he stopped now. “It means, um, everlasting love and symbolizes persistence and endurance.” Now they were both blushing like mad. How did Blue get so lucky as to have such an adorably sweet boyfriend?

Next were the red bits sticking out from the mess in the middle. “These are cardinals and they symbolize distinction from others. Like, um. A really amazing partner.”

Ink’s snicker could be heard from space but both of them were masters in the art of ignoring his teasing by now. Well, perhaps not masters, but certainly used to it. “Blue stars are related to strength and also cover persistence and endurance like the kalanchoe. They represent the strength of will of another.”

He smiled as he reached the last ones and finally met Blue’s eyes. “And these are bluebells. They’re given to show gratitude towards someone. Like the gratitude of being with you.”

“Oh, Dreamy,” Blue couldn’t help himself. He launched himself forwards and dragged his adorable boyfriend into the biggest hug he could. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love it!”

Dream laughed as he caught the other man and held onto him just as tight. “We haven’t been able to really hang out much lately and I wanted to give you guys something.”

A small weight barreled into them both and suddenly Ink’s shining face was grinning up at them. “Do me next!” The pair smiled at one another as Blue extracted himself from their embrace.

“I’ll grab a couple vases while you do that,” he promised and left for the kitchen. Dream turned his attention to their other boyfriend and his oldest friend. He backed up just enough to be able to point out each flower without leaving their embrace entirely.

“Well,” he began with a round red bloom, “These are dahlias. They stand for a lasting bond and lifelong commitment. It felt right given how long we’ve known one another.”

A unique orange outside with a bright blue interior. “These are birds of paradise, and symbolize paradise and freedom.” He decided not to elaborate on that one, not knowing if he could handle Ink’s adoring look growing any brighter.

A collection of small pink petals followed by similar blue ones. “Daphnes mean ‘I would not have you any other way’ while hydrangeas represent a deep understanding between people.”

Delicate pink flowers poked out from the center. “Almond flowers stand for hope.” And on to the last one. He took a breath and smiled at his lover as he grasped one of the long stems of a lightly budding plant. “And Acanthus. They can mean a lot of things but the one I like the most is artistic beauty. They’re said to inspire others and allow them to persevere and transform whatever it is they’ve doing. I got them not just because you do that for others, but also because you are that for me. You’ve inspired me to keep going for years and years and I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you dearly.”

Dream looked away from the bouquet and instead at Ink’s face only to find it filled with tears. Alarmed, he reached out but didn’t get far before he was unceremoniously handed the gift back while Ink ran towards a nearby bucket. Although he could very easily clean up the ink that came out anytime he felt too much, Dream and Blue had convinced him to at least throw it up in one container so it was easier to dispose of.

Despite how odd he knew it must look to outsiders, Dream shyly smiled as he followed the other, if only because he knew how much it must mean to Ink for him to react so intensely. “Are you all right, dear?”

It was only because of his years of experience with the artist that he was able to sense what was about to happen before it did. As such, he was just able to move the flowers off to the side before his arms were filled by his tiny feral boyfriend.

“Oh stars, Dreamboat, you’re the best, I love you so much, thank you!” his words were said so fast they were nigh incomprehensible to anyone other than those within the confines of their home. As it was, the guardian simply wrapped his arms around the other and hugged him back. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“If you two are done being gay in there, dinner’s ready!” Blue teased. The blush returned with a vengeance as Ink laughed, “Please, after this that’s impossible.”

“You two are impossible,” Dream shot back but still he made his way into the kitchen and added the Ink’s flowers to the vase next to Blue’s, that smile never leaving his face.

Several days later Dream was awoken to the sight of both his boyfriends standing over him in bed. Ink had called out to him – likely several times – and appeared smug in his ability to wake a man who slept like the whole world was out to get him. Which, to be fair, it had been at one point. The guardian groaned indulgently before glancing over at the clock. Nine in the morning. He had slept in late, unsurprising given how late they’d stayed out last night but still groan worthy, hence another indulgent groan leaving his mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Ink shook him in blatant disregard to his woes. “We’ve got something for you~”

“Ink, quit it,” Blue scolded without any heat, turning to their sleepy boyfriend, “I’m sorry to wake you, but we do have something to give you.”

Suddenly more interested than he had been before, Dream let himself indulge one more time before sitting up and stretching (at which Ink let out an appreciative whistle and Blue delicately looked away). Smirking, he let his feet dangle off the bed and asked, “All right, what is it?”

His lovers looked uncharacteristically uncertain at the question and the smile slipped from his face in slight worry. He knew he would love whatever they gave him, but he hated to see them so uneasy. Words of reassurance caught in his throat, however, as Blue shyly held out the thing he had been hiding behind his back: a dazzling bouquet of flowers.

“We wanted to get you something for the other day,” Blue informed him hesitantly, his gaze still averted.

“We checked the meanings too!” Ink added, his gaze able to meet Dream’s but his skull still a delicate rainbow half hidden by his scarf.

Dream gently took the bouquet and looked it over. The other two sat down next to him, one on each side, and performed a reverse of the other day.

“Viburnum, for good luck, affection, and loyalty,” the young guardsman explained.

“Craspedia because you light up our world!” the protector continued.

“False indigo for protection.”

“Angelica to represent your guidance and inspiration.”

“Cyclamen for resilience, strength, and perseverance.”

“Lungwort, for joy, devotion, and admiration!”

“And…” Dream trailed off as he thumbed the last one left.

“And roses,” Blue grabbed his hand and smiled, “For love.”

On his other side, Ink leaned into him, “Cliche, we know. But it’s true!”

For once the pressure building inside Dream was one he didn’t mind and he hugged his bouquet tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. Two skulls pressed against his cheeks at the same time and he buried his face into the beautiful flowers. Ink’s laugh was like little bells ringing and Blue’s voice was full of affection, “Of course.”

[writingstothevoid]

A Cat in a Dog’s World

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Rating: G

Relationships: Virgil and Logan (could be interpreted as romantic/queerplatonic towards the end)

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41411421

Summary: Logan has always been a bit different. While hanging out with Virgil, he finally comes up with the proper way to explain it.

“I think I’ve figured out what’s wrong with me,”

Virgil looked up from his phone and met Logan’s eyes for a split second before darting slightly away. His mouth was pressed into a slight frown, likely from Logan’s use of the word “wrong” – though Virgil suffered from his own self-deprecating thoughts, he didn’t want others to suffer too, especially not those he cared about – but he didn’t say anything, instead waiting for the other to continue.

After a few beats of silence, Logan finally did, his eyes locked firmly on the cat he was petting. He found that statements that beat around the bush but acknowledged the existence of a problem were some of the most effective tools in forcing himself to say things he didn’t want to say. It let the other person know there was something going on and pressured him into explaining himself while also buying himself a bit of time to think.

“I feel like a cat in a world made for dogs,” he grimaced as he spoke, wishing he had an easier way to phrase how he felt, one that didn’t use those flowery metaphors Roman loved so much. And yet, this was the way that felt the most true.

When he didn’t elaborate any further, Virgil spoke up. “What do you mean?” he asked, not unkindly (not yet).

Logan let out a sigh, trying to find the words to explain the mess inside of him. He could talk someone’s ear off about every fact he had ever learned, from ways to maintain a healthy lifestyle to his beloved biology, but he never could seem to get the hang of describing his emotions.

“People tend to dislike cats because they don’t understand them. They take the knowledge that they have of how dogs act and behave and apply that to cats, not understanding that cats feel and express themselves in very different ways. Thus, when this strategy fails, the person believes that the cat must be selfish and evil and emotionless.” Logan stated. It was easier to start on a global scale and work down to a more personal one.

“Right,” Virgil replied, looking more and more confused as Logan continued to dodge around what he really wanted to say in the masterful way only someone who had spent years perfecting the art could achieve.

The bespectacled man let out a sigh and hunched in on himself as he finally forced the words out, “People expect you to feel and express yourself in very specific ways, and when you don’t they consider you odd at best and evil at worst. I… have tried very hard for a very long time to do the things that are expected of me, believing that everyone has to force themselves to fit the mold and that I should just suck it up and push through it. Recently, however, I’ve been trying to figure myself out more and I’ve been… happier.” Finally, he looked up at Virgil.

“I like being alone. I like keeping myself to myself. It comes more naturally to me to use logic over feelings when helping others. I value my independence more than anything else. And I don’t want to believe that I am broken simply because I live in a society that pushes me to change everything about myself. I would rather be alone and happy than surrounded by people who want to change me, not understand me. Does… does that make sense?” He asked, a rare hint of hesitance creeping into his voice.

Finally, Virgil gave him a hint of a smile. “Yeah, Lo. I think it does.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth quirked up, “Thank you, Virge,” he paused one last time and the lightest hints of a blush appeared on his cheeks, “I believe that… having you as a friend has helped me realize that. You made me realize that I can have friendships that do not force me to give up pieces of myself to make the other person happy. You don’t push me to give anything that I can’t or won’t give. So… thank you, Virgil.”

It was Virgil’s turn to blush, “Yeah, of course, Lo. You, uh. You too.”

[writingstothevoid]

Childhood

Fandom: UTMV

Rating: G

Relationship: Dream & Ink

AUs: high school (but a flashback to when they were children), human, genderbending

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41393739

Summary: Delilah's mom forces her to go to a gymnastics class. Luckily for her (and unluckily for her mom), she finally manages to make her first friend. If only the girl weren't so odd... 

 Delilah was the good child.

Even at six, this she knew. While other children were goofing off, she was quietly doing her work in the corner. When other children were making a fuss, she was playing mediator between the involved parties. When her mother called for her, she was there, prim and proper and good while her sister was left (protected) in the shadows. Delilah was the good child. And as long as she could maintain that, everything would be alright. The other kids may call her a goodie two-shoes, but they still liked (using) her and her teachers always loved her. Naomi may stop talking to her, but she was safe in Delilah’s orbit.

So when their mother insisted they try out gymnastics, Delilah immediately caved to her mother’s whims and followed her dutifully along. Naomi, on the other hand, managed to slip by at the last second, feigning illness and exhaustion and the like until Mother finally gave up and decided to take Delilah alone. Which was how she ended up in the small gymnastics center, far too dressed up for such an activity while children played and adults led each class, her mother’s hand grasped tightly in her much smaller one (but not too tightly, good children do what they’re told without complaint and nervousness certainly counted as a complaint).

“Delilah?” came her mother’s sharp voice. Stiffening just a bit, she forced herself to calm down, nothing was wrong, and smiled at her mother. “Yes?”

“What have I told you about paying attention?” she snapped, continuing on before the young girl could try to defend herself. A small bag was unceremoniously placed into her arms. “Go change while I finish sorting everything out.”

Delilah nodded mutely as the lady working the counter watched awkwardly. Turning to the girl, she pointed to a door towards the back of the building, “Our changing rooms are over there. You’ll be with Ms. Bailey in that corner class.”

“Thank you,” Delilah said with her best, most practiced smile and added a small curtsy for effect. The woman quirked a lip up at her but didn’t seem to know what to do in such a situation. No matter. Most people didn’t understand the things Mother taught her, only those like Mother herself. Without another word, the small child made her way over to the changing room, cradling her bag gently in her hands as she tried to maintain an air of importance and politeness all at once. The other kids stared at her as she passed, but she was used to it. She knew that she was unusual in the way that she dressed and spoke and acted and she was far too used to it to (show that she) cared.

That is, until one other child caught her eye. The girl was small, with messy red hair kept out of her face via pigtails and freckles covering every inch of her skin. Her clothes looked worn and mismatched, nothing like what she and Naomi always worn, and unlike most of the children who had realized it was considered rude to stare, this girl openly watched as Delilah walked past, curiosity and excitement written so earnestly on her face it made Delilah feel almost flustered. Nobody she knew would dare show their emotions so openly. From the other children at school to the adults her mother brought around, it was agreed that showing too much emotion was a sign of weakness. Expression was a skill meant to be honed. This girl acted as though it was the canvas to her soul. She wouldn’t survive a day in Delilah’s world.

Perhaps that’s why Delilah couldn’t stop thinking about her. As she changed into her nice new leotard, all she could think about was the way the other girl had watched her like she was the most fascinating person in the room. People never looked at her like that, despite what Naomi thought. They looked at her with pity or disappointment or superiority because they knew she would do anything they said to keep her golden child status. She never stepped out of line. She was never unique.

And yet…

By the time Delilah was ready, the class had nearly started. The children had gathered in a loose circle around a young woman with a gentle smile and bright eyes, squirming in place as they waited impatiently to begin. Delilah flushed as she realized they must have been waiting on her, and hurried to sit down before the teacher could notice her. Unfortunately, that was not to be, and the woman brightened as she called out to the young girl, “Oh good! You’re here. Now we can begin.”

Mortified by the way all eyes turned on her, Delilah dropped clumsily down, forgoing elegance for speed. It took another minute for her to calm down enough to recognize her surroundings again, just in time to realize just who she had sat next to. The strange girl had moved right up next to her and leaned in as though they had known each other all their lives, a mischievous grin on her face.

“I’m Iris,” she whispered, or at least attempted to because her excitement seemed to carry her voice anyways. Delilah looked around frantically, but only a couple kids had turned to look at the pair and none lingered for long. With a sigh of relief, the young girl finally found it in her to respond.

“I am Delilah,” she whispered (actually whispered, thank you very much). “We should be paying attention.”

Iris groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes in such an exaggerated manner that her entire body went with them. “But that’s so boring,” she replied. A flair of indignation shot through Delilah. It didn’t matter how boring something was, you always listened to the person in charge. That was the rule, and she always followed the rules.

Turning her nose up the way she’d seen her mother do time and time again, Delilah pointedly stared at the teacher and ignored the other child entirely, figuring she’d get the hint and leave her alone. Instead, Iris crept right up next to her until their legs were touching and leaned in even more, whispering the occasional comment on the class or her life or whatever fleeting thought crossed her mind.

Tell her to go away, Delilah scolded herself. She’ll only get you in trouble!  

That would be the proper thing to do. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by anyone, much less someone as unrefined as Iris. And yet, she also couldn’t bring herself to send her away. For one, she’d never had to do it before. Other kids typically gave her and Naomi a wide berth unless they wanted something. They spoke funny and dressed in strange clothes and didn’t seem to have any interest in things typically considered fun. Delilah was a teacher’s pet, Naomi was a troublemaker. They were outcasts in their own way, and everyone seemed to know it.

Everyone except the strange redhead prattling away next to her. And that was the other reason she couldn’t do the right thing and push her away. Iris was an odd motormouth without a single filter to boot, but she treated Delilah like they were equals, friends even. Delilah had never had a friend before, not counting her sister (and these days it hardly felt like her sister counted anyway), and the thought filled her with an intense desire she hadn’t known was there. Of course, in turn that desire sent a shock of guilt and fear of what her mother would say or do to her if she found out she’d befriended someone like Iris.

What should I do?  

“Alright everyone, pair up!” the teacher called out and Delilah jolted out of her thoughts. No, no, no, she hated pairing up. No one ever wanted to pair with her and she was always left alone or with someone who didn’t like her or didn’t do their part and–

A small, grubby hand grabbed hers. She turned and found Iris grinning at her, their hands intertwined. “Wanna partner?”

Behind all her energy and enthusiasm, Delilah saw just a hint of strain. Iris was just as afraid as she was, albeit in a different way. For the first time, it struck her that this odd girl was probably an outcast too, just as lonely as Delilah herself.

Her mother wouldn’t approve. Iris was everything she hated and Delilah knew it. But with the look on the other girl’s face and the way her hand felt in hers, Delilah couldn’t bring herself to really care. She gently squeezed her hand and earned an even wider grin in response. “Sure.”

[writingstothevoid]

Note:

Please feel free to send asks! Comments, questions, ideas, requests, etc are all welcome. There’s no guarantee that I’ll complete story requests but I’d love to hear anyone’s ideas regardless. Also, if you’d like for me to tag something as a content warning, just let me know! I’ll do my best to get it tagged for you.

[writingstothevoid]

Twilight but it’s gay and they’re in their 20s (title bending): Chapter One

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Rating: T

Relationships: Logan/Virgil/Roman, Logan & Patton

AUs: genderbent (lesbians), human au, vampires and werewolves; Vampire!Virigl, Werewolf!Roman

CW: spiders, food, arguing

Ao3 Link:

Summary: Logan Berry, a graduate student working to get her doctorate in biology, is forced by her mentor Janus Sanders to go on vacation for the summer under the guise of getting to practice her trade before the school year begins again. Janus gets her a place at an old friend's -- Patty Enache's -- home in Romania and the trip goes wonderfully at first. The people are nice, especially Patty who immediately takes Logan in as her own, but there's something about the woods surrounding the town that seems to be keeping everyone on edge. Ever-stubborn, Logan is determined to explore the woods and document everything about them, but when she finds an old manor within its depths, she learns that there's something much bigger going on than small town superstition.

Logan watched as the taxi took off in the direction of the distant mountains, leaving her standing in the middle of the small village with one bag slung over her shoulder, another on her back, and one more resting on the ground by her feet. She sat for a moment, simply taking in her surroundings and allowing herself to breathe for the first time in the last 48 hours before planning her next move. Between 10 hour flights, once-a-day buses, long train rides, and paranoia-inducing taxis, Logan felt completely exhausted. Still, it could not be understated how beautiful the land around her was, with its towering mountains, lush forests, and (her personal favorite thing) low levels of human activity. Janus knew her too well and had reassured her that there wouldn’t be many other people there, just her and the environment.

Logan abruptly realized that she had been standing in that same spot for far longer than would be considered normal and started towards the address Janus had given her. People stared as she walked, but she supposed it was only normal -- she was a stranger in a relatively small town and she knew from bitter experience that anything out of the ordinary was subject to curiosity and suspicion in such places. She held her head high, briefly making eye contact before looking around for the building she would be spending the next few months in.

After a bit of searching, she found it: Brutăria Mamei. With a deep breath, Logan opened the door and headed inside. “Hello?” she called out.

Bumping and clanging sounded from where she supposed the kitchen was before a short, plump, middle aged woman stuck her head out of the door across from Logan. She had blonde hair sprinkled with gray, light blue eyes, and the laugh lines of someone who never stopped smiling.

“Oh! Yes, yes hello, dear,” the woman said, hurrying behind her counter. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh,” Logan replied, shaking her head to try and regain her senses. She was a graduate student for god’s sake! She could handle a little exhaustion. “I was told that I would be staying here for the next few months. By Janus?”

The woman visibly brightened even more at the name, “Oh, Janus! So you must be Logan. It’s so nice to meet you, dear. Janus has told me so much about you.” She came out from behind the corner and approached Logan who put her hand out to shake. Instead, the older woman hugged her, leaving her floundering as she tried to figure out the appropriate response to such an action. It didn’t help that she found herself flushing slightly at the thought of her mentor’s praise. Janus Sanders was a tall, ethereal woman with dark skin, black-and-gray dreads, and amber eyes that pierced your soul. Combine that with her wit, charm, and impeccable fashion sense…well she couldn’t be blamed for having a small crush on the older woman. It had been particularly bad at the start, but now that she knew Janus more their relationship had become one of familiarity and shared intellect only occasionally filled with mild idol admiration.

Logan snapped back to reality (she must really be tired to be going on such tirades) and focused on the woman in front of her who had finally released her from the hug.

“Call me Patty, dear. Patty Enache,” the older woman held Logan’s hand in a gentle grip.

“Logan Berry,” she responded, reaching up to squeeze Patty’s hands with her own. “Though, I guess you already know that,” Logan added sheepishly.

Patty smiled kindly at her, “You must be exhausted. Here, let me get you settled in.”

And with that, she swiftly locked the front door and led Logan through the kitchen door to a separate part of the building where a flight of stairs took them to a second story. The upstairs consisted of a small landing containing nothing but an old rug, lamp, and three doors, two in front of the women and one off to the side. Patty opened one of the front two, allowing Logan to look into the room and see its furnishings -- a full-sized bed, wooden dresser, and small vanity. All and all, it was a quaint, comfy looking room, though Logan knew she would take just about anything right now so long as she could sleep.

“I get up early to make breakfast every morning, but I understand if you need to sleep in this time. Still, you’re always welcome to come down at any time. The store typically runs from a little after dawn until evening. Side door leads to the restroom. Please make yourself at home and come get me if you need anything,” and with that, the kindly woman disappeared back down the stairs.

Logan stared for a moment longer before finally entering the room and gently shutting the door behind her. With a carelessness uncharacteristic of her, she allowed her bags to fall to the floor with a thunk and barely slipped off her shoes and glasses before climbing into bed. A voice nagged in her brain telling her to change and brush her teeth before she began sleeping but the pure bliss of laying down on a soft bed weighed her down and kept her from doing anything at all. Logan’s thoughts idled as she drifted off to sleep in record time.

It was daylight when Logan next awoke. She rose sluggishly, trying to get her brain to start up after running on empty for so long. Her thoughts began to consolidate and she began the process of coming up with a mental to-do list as she did every morning to keep track of the things she needed to do throughout the day. First on the list: figure out what time it was. Logan picked her glasses up from the side table where she haphazardly left them the night before and, after a bit of searching, dug her phone out of her crumpled jacket pocket, revealing the time to be about ten in the morning. The screen was noticeably free from any notifications which Logan pointedly ignored in favor of finding something to satiate her newly discovered hunger.

As she stumbled towards the stairs, she continued to develop her list. Breakfast and shower were certainly up there, followed by unpacking. Then she figured she ought to check out the town properly, considering it would be her place of residence for the next three months. Only the sound of Patty’s voice knocked Logan out of her thoughts and forced her to realize that she had made it into the kitchen downstairs. The aforementioned woman was standing in a pastel green apron, obviously in the middle of some bakery chore and awaiting some sort of response.

“Pardon?” Logan asked, embarrassed that she had gotten so lost in thought. Nevermind the fact that it happened frequently, she knew that social rules dictated that she keep her focus on the here-and-now and she didn’t want to make a bad first impression with this woman.

Patty smiled (she did that often, didn’t she?) and repeated herself in a way that lacked the annoyance Logan was so accustomed to, “I was just asking if you were hungry, dear,”

“Oh,” She was getting frustratingly flustered at a simple kindness, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, now, dear,” Patty ushered Logan towards a small room adjacent to the main kitchen which featured a small dining table decorated with pretty white lace, several old-fashioned lamps, and a similar shade of pale green wallpaper to the baker’s apron. “None of those formalities. There’s no need for them here.”

“Yes… Patty,” Logan said, still observing the area. It went back farther than she thought, opening up to a sitting room with a similar flowery aesthetic to the dining room. With a quick glance at Patty, she finally sat down in the chair that would allow her to keep her back to the wall while still observing both the kitchen and living area. She wasn’t paranoid, necessarily, she just liked to know what was going on at all times. In order to maintain the proper social order, she needed to know who was around her at any given moment, so this was the most logical spot for that goal.

Patty came out a few minutes later carrying a plate full of pastries, bacon, and eggs and a glass of water. “I wasn’t certain what you’d like, so I just grabbed a bit of everything. Wait!” She abruptly stopped. “Do you have any allergies? Dietary preferences? Drat, I forgot to ask beforehand,”

Before the baker could continue to spiral, Logan stepped in, “Don’t worry. This is perfectly fine, I promise. More than I was expecting, if I’m being honest.”

The worry left Patty’s face, making Logan feel a relief she didn’t expect, and that smile of hers reappeared once more, “Nonsense, dear. I may have been in too much of a rush to remember to ask first, but I did know beforehand that I wanted to make sure you have a good time here.” She set the full plate in front of the student. “And that includes a good breakfast.”

Logan looked down at the plate and then up at Patty once more before manifesting a polite smile and picking up her fork to eat. The baker grinned brightly and then hurried back to the kitchen, leaving Logan on her lonesome. That was just fine by her, though. She liked to be alone, a fact that many people didn’t seem to fully understand. She wasn’t just okay being alone, like most people assumed, but instead preferred it and would often reject offers to hang out in any capacity in favor of time spent alone. It had lost her a good number of potential friends, but for as much as she’s given up for the sake of fitting in, her time never was one of them.

Almost absently, Logan began to sort through the food. Everything looked good and she desperately wanted to not upset Patty, but she als couldn’t bring herself to eat certain things. Bacon, for example, was one of her least favorites in the breakfast food department due to its texture and high fat concentration. Still, she took a small bite to prove that she appreciated the older woman’s efforts. The eggs were a pleasant scrambled that she knew would be perfectly adequate, so she instead moved onto the pastries. With her fork, she gently opened up the ones that had some sort of fruity filling, digging out any pieces of fruit she found within. With that complete, she finally and efficiently went about the rest of breakfast without issue.

With the same hesitation she always used in unfamiliar situations, Logan popped her head into the kitchen to see if Patty had any guidance for her. Not finding the kindly baker, she decided to take matters into her own hands and quickly washed her dishes before heading to her room. One shower and unpacking session later, Logan was back in the kitchen in a clean shirt and jeans, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail and glasses fixed firmly to her face. A cursory look into the store front revealed Patty managing the counter while a couple customers sat scattered at various tables. The older woman looked up at the sound of the opened door and sent her a smile.

The student glanced over at the customers and found them to be looking back at her. She knew being new in a small town was subject for attention but still she found herself growing a bit uncomfortable. With a shake of the head, she forced her attention back to Patty, “I was just going to go check out the town if that’s all right.”

“Of course. Let me just put my number in your phone so you can let me contact me if you need to.” Once that was over with, Patty gave Logan one last hug that left her floundering before finally allowing her to head out.

The town was busier during the day than at whatever godforsaken time she first arrived. People walked around, looking into the various buildings and chatting with one another while children chased each other through the streets, dressed in loose summer clothing decorated with dirt and grass stains from time well spent outdoors. People certainly still stared at Logan, but the buzzing environment distracted many and forced the rest to at least remember their manners.

Patty’s bakery sat on the edge of the square and was one of many buildings lining the streets. Everything from clothing boutiques to restaurants to grocery stores buzzed with life as people went about their business. At the center of the square was a park-like area where the greenery was allowed to run as wild as the children who played in it. In the distance, towering mountains covered in forestry surrounded the small town, giving a comforting, if isolated, feeling to the whole place.

Logan spent the rest of her day exploring the town. If there was one thing she hated most it was not knowing things followed closely by having to ask for help, and that included asking for directions so she worked to make sure she knew her way around, if not with ease then at least with certainty. By nightfall, she felt satisfied that she had gotten her bearings and was happy to return to Patty’s for dinner. She didn’t necessarily have to -- she made sure to exchange her currency in one of the cities she traveled through to get there -- but as Patty was her only connection to this place she felt most comfortable in the baker’s home than any restaurant. It also helped that the woman had such a motherly persona, one that Logan would be hard-pressed to admit she felt drawn to.

The next few days continued in similar fashion and a rhythm slowly developed between the two women. Patty would wake up exceptionally early to prepare for the morning rush. Logan would follow soon after (she always was an early riser) and would offer to help out which would be met first by polite denial followed by gracious acceptance. The two would work together, Logan doing whatever chores she could while Patty worked her magic on each pastry and attempted to teach the scholar her ways with mitigating levels of success. Then Logan would eat breakfast by herself before heading off to explore the town. Once she felt comfortable with the layout, she moved on to the actual purpose of her trip: studying.

See, when Janus first suggested a trip to Logan, the young woman had denied her vehemently. She was in the final stretch towards getting her doctorate and she couldn’t just stop everything to take a vacation. At that, Janus had pursed her lips the way she always did when she had to solve a particularly challenging puzzle and reminded her that she could always study abroad. A back and forth that lasted for several weeks insured, but Janus was nothing if not relentless and before long Logan had caved on the condition that she would continue studying during her stay. Janus agreed, and here they were.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Logan left particularly early one morning, a small drawstring bag filled with journaling materials, snacks, and precautionary measures fit on her back and headed for the woods that surrounded the town. She hadn’t gotten the chance to explore that area yet, in large part because all the locals seemed to avoid it like the plague. Though they were all nice enough, there was an air of superstition that hung over the town that even Logan picked up on. Any mention of the woods would be met with avoidance at best and hostility at worst and it didn’t escape her notice how few people ever seemed to go outside at night. She was sure there was more to it, if she were ever so inclined to look, but she never was great at picking up cues and though she was sure they had good reasons for their beliefs there was no way she was spending her entire summer away from nature. Her major was biology, afterall, and the call to explore and document had dominated her since she was a child.

The few people she passed on her way to the forest’s edge were friendly at first, but as it became clearer where she was going they began to watch her warily, not bothering with any sort of greeting. Logan ignored it all. With the determination of someone who refused to listen to anything as trivial as warnings, she marched across one last clearing until she stood before the looming trees.

The forest was even more beautiful up close. The trees varied greatly, from all kinds of tall coniferous to the wide reaching oak and beech. They cast such a canopy over the ground that even in the daylight the forest was heavily shaded. Beautiful flowering plants could be seen within the darkness, doting the green with purple, white, and yellow. Excitedly, Logan pulled a pen and notebook out from her bag and began to jot down notes on everything she could see. Once satisfied with her preliminary writings, she looked into the forest, trying to decide the best route to travel. The nature of the town’s superstitions meant that very few people traveled into the woods, giving Logan no obvious path to go down. Rather than risk getting lost within its depths or damaging a potentially delicate ecosystem, she decided to walk the edge, observing the border between wilderness and civilization and looking out for any sort of path along the way.

By the end of the day, Logan had made it through her supply of snacks and water as well as a significant portion of the wood’s edge. She had even marked down various spots on a map where she could potentially enter, setting herself up for the next few days. It was all-in-all a successful day, despite the constant feeling of being watched by curious and worried townspeople (and sometimes, not townspeople at all. But Logan knew that these woods were filled with creatures of all sorts and even if she couldn’t see them, it was only natural that they would be watching her).

Logan arrived back at the bakery well into the evening, the closest thing to a genuine smile on her face as she walked through the empty storefront towards the back. A true smile began to appear for just a moment as she spotted Patty sitting at the dining room table, but the stricken look on the older woman’s face soured her joy instantly.

“Patty?” Logan called out, concerned for the motherly figure.

“Why were you near the woods, Logan?” Patty asked, her voice unusually quiet and flat. Logan stopped dead in her tracks, defenses rising for the first time around the baker since she arrived.

“I was… exploring?” Logan offered, her thoughts getting increasingly frantic as she attempted to explain herself. “I am studying to be a biologist and though you’ve made this trip incredibly comfortable and pleasant, my original goal was to get some work done for my doctorate. This place has some incredible old forests and--”

“Logan,” Patty said firmly, cutting off the scholar. At the panicked look on Logan’s face, the older woman sighed and softened, “Kiddo, I know you want to explore. But this place…it can be dangerous. You’re completely safe here in town, but I don’t want you exploring those woods any more.”

Despite her best efforts to keep calm, Logan felt her indignation flare. She hated being told what to do, especially in a way that could come across as condescending. She knew Patty was coming from a good place and was only trying to help her, but still her anger grew.

“I know how to take care of myself,” she began. “I have been doing this for a while, you know. I’m not just some tourist getting myself into trouble.”

“I know you know, dear. Anywhere else I wouldn’t be worried. But that isn’t the problem here.”

“Then what is?” Logan snapped. Patty jerked up, finally making eye contact with the younger woman. Her mouth opened but nothing came out and after a moment she looked away once more.

“Look,” Logan tried desperately to control the frustration seeping into her words, “I appreciate you trying to help me. You’ve been very kind to me, giving me lodging and food and I couldn’t be more grateful. But if you can’t even give me one good reason for why I should give up all of my plans for this summer, possibly jeopardizing my future, then I see no reason to follow your advice.” She softened, “I promise I’ll be careful. I can take care of myself.”

Patty continued to stare at the floor, her hand covering her mouth. After a few moments of nothing from her, Logan huffed out a breath and headed up to her room where she collapsed onto the bed, emotions running high. She didn’t want to argue with Patty. As much as she’d loathe to admit it, the woman had quickly become almost like a mother to her. But she never did well with people trying to control her, especially without proper explanation. And like hell was she giving this up now, town superstition be damned.

The next few days were incredibly awkward between both women. Though Patty was back to being friendly towards Logan, it was clear that a wedge had formed between them. For her part, Logan left early each morning to continue her research and came back late in the evening to ensure that she spent as little time with the baker as possible. But despite her indignation, she still had yet to actually go into the woods, opting to stay on the edge instead, reasoning that the choice was the most logical one and definitely had nothing to do with Patty’s disapproval.

A week into this new normal, Logan came home to the eerily familiar sight of Patty sitting at the dining room table, her head in her hands. Despite herself, Logan felt a pang of worry and guilt and found herself unable to leave the older woman there.

“Patty?” The baker looked up at her.

“Oh, Logan,” she responded, rubbing her eyes.

“Are you all right?” Logan pressed, which Patty waved off.

“Yes, I… I’m alright. I’m just…” she trailed off, a look of guilt appearing on her face that raised such alarm within Logan that she rushed over to the woman, who held onto her. “I’m sorry, Logan. I’m just so worried about you. You aren’t familiar with this place, these people, and I just wanted to protect you.”

Logan pursed her lips, but let Patty continue, “You are an incredibly strong young woman and I should have treated you like it.” She hesitated. “I still strongly discourage you from going any deeper into those woods. There are dangers there, ones you couldn’t even imagine. That being said, I know I cannot stop you and I don’t want your time here to be spent in turmoil.”

Logan considered her words. “Thank you, Patty. I’m sorry as well. I let my temper get the better of me and reacted a bit harshly.” She pulled back a bit, letting a firmness appear in her voice, “But I came here for a reason. Part of it may have been to get away, but the main reason was to explore. To learn on my own terms. These woods are fascinating and I cannot simply quit doing what I love.”

The older woman bowed her head, “I thought you might say that. Very well, then. Just…if I ever ask you to do anything for your own safety, I beg you, please listen to me.” sensing the younger woman’s protests, she pressed on, “I won’t try to force you to stay away from the woods. But if I ask you to do something else, like take something perhaps a bit odd with you, please listen.. I want to keep you safe, however I can.”

The conversation ended much like their last one, with both women staring at one another. This time, however, Logan conceded, sighing, “All right, Patty. I will.”

For the first time in a week, the baker smiled and pulled Logan into a hug, “Thank you, dear.” The scholar fumbled for just a moment, but she was slowly getting used to Patty’s mannerisms and hesitantly hugged her back. “Of course, Patty.”

The next day Logan awoke early, even earlier than Patty for once. Though she tried to go back to sleep, her thoughts were soon consumed by those woods. Now that the issue with Patty was settled (sort of), it was all she could think about and she figured it was about time she gave into her urges. Quietly, so as not to wake up the baker, Logan gathered together a mix of scholarly and practical supplies before getting dressed in a t-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and ballcap. After heading downstairs, she also gathered a couple water bottles, snacks, and a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich for lunch. Satisfied with her work, she grabbed some leftovers from the day before for breakfast and nearly walked out then and there but memories of the conversation from last night stopped her. Patty had explicitly asked her to allow the baker to give her some advice, and while she wouldn’t technically be breaking that promise to leave early, she had just gotten back on good terms with the older woman and didn’t want to ruin that.

With a sigh, Logan sat down and ate her breakfast, knowing she wouldn’t have to wait long for the baker to wake up. Sure enough, the baker was downstairs before she finished eating and was clearly surprised at the reversal of events. The surprise didn’t last long, however; a glance at the scholar’s outfit and bag told her everything she needed to know about the situation. Her face grew tense and she let out a sigh before making her way into the kitchen, not a word said. Confused and a little anxious, Logan watched as she dug through various drawers before finally approaching the scholar and holding the items out towards Logan.

“Here,” was all the older woman said as she passed over a silver cross necklace, a ziplock full of garlic, and a few handfuls of rosemary. Logan looked up at her, even more confused and certainly unimpressed. “You promised,” Patty reminded her sternly.

A small fire flared inside of Logan, but she immediately squashed it, not wanting to ruin their recently mended relationship over something as menial (if strange) as a necklace and some weird plants. She quickly shoved the bag of garlic into a pocket on her bag that had nothing else in it (after making sure the baggie was completely shut, of course), threw the necklace on over her outfit, and placed the rosemary in a pocket. “There. Happy?”

The older woman eyed her critically before letting out a satisfied ‘hmp’ and turning back to work on that morning’s meal. Logan joined her moments later, washing her dishes at the sink without a word. The silence continued as the scholar grabbed her bag and began to head towards the door before hesitating right before leaving. She turned around and found Patty staring right back at her. The mess of emotions on the older woman’s face hurt her to look at and she lurched forward, meeting Patty in a hug. The baker held her tightly and the thought that this woman who had barely known her for more than a couple weeks seemed to care about Logan more than anyone she had ever met (except perhaps Janus) made her tear up just a little. Finally, Patty pulled back and looked at the younger woman’s face. “Be careful, Logan.”

For once, the old fire didn’t flare up, and Logan took the baker’s hands into her own, “I will.” She gave Patty a smile that was quickly returned. The two looked at one another as though they were committing the other to memory.

An alarm went off at the stove, calling Patty back to her duties. The older woman squeezed her hand one last time and left her standing by the door, humming as she went. Logan stood a moment longer, just watching, and then went silently out the door as the gentle song waved her bye.

During her preliminary research, she had discovered an abandoned path hidden by deep brush, overgrown grass, and imposing fencing and, being the true scientist she was, she refused to let something as small as “gentle suggestions” keep her from her goals. Of all the paths, this one was the most defined and would be her best bet to staying safe and not losing her way.

Dawn crept over the horizon as Logan reached the fence, illuminating her path just barely. With one last glance at the village behind her, she hopped the fence and pushed past the shrubbery, revealing a faded dirt path that disappeared into the trees. From here, the beauty and colors that Logan could see from the treeline intensified, drawing her further into the forest’s depths.

Without so much as a second thought, she started down the path, stopping frequently to record her surroundings. The forest was strangely quiet, almost entirely devoid of the animal noises that would normally fill such gaps. The oddities didn’t stop there. Though signs of most animals remained elusive, Logan noted that the woods held an unusually high spider population whose webs seemed to coat every other tree. The path was also wellkept despite being (supposedly) out of use for many, many years, as though someone had been using it regularly.

The biggest oddity of all, however, she wouldn’t discover until the early afternoon. After a quick lunch break and rest, Logan had opted to follow the path just a little further before heading back to the village. She had spent much of her time documenting, afterall, and would easily be able to make it back before nightfall so long as she didn’t daddle for too long. As she stopped to observe another type of spider hanging in a nearby tree, something unnatural caught her eye – brick. Curious, she left the creature to its duties and followed the path straight towards the misplaced material.

She passed through an opening in the trees and found a clearing where an old manor sat ominously in the center. The brick Logan had first spotted belonged to the broken-down walls and wrought iron fence surrounding a small courtyard area where a dead tree stood tall. Beyond that, the dark, boarded-up house was as uninviting and ancient as a tomb and just as fascinating.

Without thinking, she took another step forwards, mind reeling at all the possibilities. But as she looked around the abandoned place, her brain began to fight the siren’s call, calling out to her danger, danger. Though she had often been considered reckless, the truth was that her risks were always calculated. The pros and cons were always weighed, the cons always deemed worthwhile. But even she knew that going into an old, decaying building for nothing more than curiosity’s sake was a fool’s errand at best and criminally stupid at worst.

With a last conflicted glance at the home, Logan turned back and began tracing her steps down the pathway. Still, the desire to know, to explore remained, and so she promised herself that she’d bring the place up to the townspeople as soon as she got back. Her curiosity could be saitited from the safety of civilization, where she wasn’t liable to injury or death and help could be reached in a matter of minutes.

Leafy debris crunched underfoot as the spiders watched her exit, too lost in her own thoughts to notice how each one froze as she passed them. How odd, a human daring to approach their lady’s home. It had been a very long time since anyone was foolish or arrogant enough to try, and they couldn’t help but find her…fascinating. Spiders scurried along the forest floor as the human crossed the threshold back to her own kind. Lady Virgil would want to hear about this immediately.

[writingstothevoid]

Introductions

Fandoms: UTMV

Rating: T (for swearing)

Relationships: Dream & Ink

Ao3 link:

Summary: Dream meets a very odd skeleton while running from Nightmare. Suffice to say he is very tired and very confused.

Based off of the prompt “Introduction” from the 100 Themes Challenge.

Dream’s soul raced as he ran down another alley, desperating trying to outrun the guards Nightmare had left in this desolate, depressing version of New Home. He hadn’t meant to run into them, hadn’t even meant to show up to an AU controlled by the self-proclaimed King of Negativity, but being homeless didn’t leave him with a lot of easy options and he was spotted before he could discreetly port out of there. Dream didn’t want to risk having the guards track him, especially if he accidentally ported into a positive AU, so instead he resorted to trying to get as far away as possible so he could do so unnoticed.

He weaved in and out of streets and alleyways, succeeding in losing only himself in his attempts while the guards remained on his tail. Still, he had managed to put a little bit of distance between himself and them when he turned down one more alley and slammed face first into another individual.

Dream collapsed onto the ground, clutching his skull in pain as a sudden burst of pain blinded him. He sat there for a few seconds when the moans of pain from the other person jolted him from his dazed state, forcing him to jerkily look back up and push the pain into the background. Luckily, he was incredibly good at ignoring his own personal problems and pain for the sake of others. As a few more precious seconds passed by, Dream found himself staring at the person before him. They appeared to be a rather small skeleton monster, wrapped in a dark cloak that had likely been pulled over their head before they had run into one another. They were clutching their skull much like he had not a minute earlier, blocking his view of their face.

The quickly approaching shouts and footsteps of the guards pushed Dream finally back into reality and, with barely a mumbled ‘sorry!’ he was back on his feet, preparing to take off once more. But before he could take so much as a single step, he felt himself go cold as he spotted another group of guards heading for him from the other end of the alleyway. It was the worst turn of events: he hadn’t even thought he’d been in this AU long enough for backup to be called. Only when the little skeleton leaped to their feet and whipped around in an identical fashion to Dream did he finally understand that they weren’t chasing down him, but instead the person he had just so carelessly run into.

This wouldn’t do. He could live with leaving a civilian while he was being chased -- after all, as someone wanted by one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse, it was far more dangerous for him to help another than leave them alone, a fact which broke his heart each time he remembered it -- but he couldn’t live with leaving someone to fend for themself in front of Nightmare’s horrible guards. Without a second thought, he snatched the other’s wrist and pulled them along as he climbed up on top of a dumpster and used the extra height to boost himself onto an apartment fire escape. Luckily, the other skeleton not only caught on to what he was doing, but they also seemed to have some skill in climbing things that weren’t meant to be climbed, preventing Dream from having to take more risky action to save them.

They narrowly managed to make it onto the roof before the guards below caught them, dodging some wayward attacks as they were given a brief reprieve from the chaos. The two of them took just a few moments to breathe before taking off across the empty roof, Dream’s hand once again finding its way around the mystery skeleton’s wrist. The shouts and attacks followed them as they ran, but the small headstart had helped them immensely and the two found themselves leaping across the buildings towards the edge of the city. Had Dream had a moment to stop and think about it, he likely would have been both impressed and confused by how the other’s parkouring abilities seemingly matched if not exceeded his own despite him being a homeless immortal guardian constantly being hunted by the immensely powerful, but as it was he neither had the time nor the care to give it any thought.

The dread Dream had been feeling the entire time magnified tenfold as they approached the end of the buildings and it suddenly became clear that, rather than another fire exit or similarly climbable way down, the area ended in a massive underground lake that was most certainly not present in the original universe. During their flight, however, their roles had somehow reversed and the other skeleton was now the one holding onto Dream’s wrist and dragging them both closer and closer to the deadend. With panic rapidly building inside him, he finally cried out at the skeleton, “Wait!”

They made no attempt to show that they had heard him, continuing on at full speed. Dream tried again, “Wait! There’s nowhere for us to go and a jump from this height would be insane!”

Again, he went ignored. They were nearly there and Dream just barely managed to pull away before both the skeleton abruptly stopped at the edge, staring down at the abyss below. The space they had gained between them and the guards was rapidly closing and with it Dream’s inhibitions about porting were going rapidly down the drain. The small monster turned towards him and he finally got a good look at their face. They did not look like an average skeleton monster, that much was for sure. Their eyelights were a pain of mismatched, colorful symbols that changed when they blinked, they had what looked to be an odd black stain on their cheek, and their mouth, though technically normal, was pulled into a wide, mischievous grin in spite of the deadly situation they were in. For the first time in the short time Dream had known them, they spoke, their voice as odd as their features with its high-pitched cadence and strange, ethereal accent, “Trust me?”

The guards were closing in. He knew absolutely nothing about this person outside of the fact that they had been running from the law, which under Nightmare’s rule could mean just about anything. They were strange and out-of-place and either did not understand the danger they were in or simply did not care. They were a walking red flag plastered in warning signs with alarm bells playing shrilly in the background. Every survival instinct Dream had learned in his time on the run told him to get as far away from this person as possible.

He took their hand.

Their grin widened just a smidge more and then, to Dream’s absolute horror, they pulled the both of them into the watery depths below. For a brief second, Dream thought he was about to die, condemded to death for his stupid, trusting nature (the same one, a voice in his head whispered, that had forced him to not see the error of the villagers, that had allowed them to walk all over him and Nighty and had forced his best friend in the entire world into such despair and desperation that he was willing to do the unthinkable. Perhaps, it whispered, this was exactly what he deserved. Nightmare would be so much happier with him gone).

He felt when his body hit the water, but it wasn’t the shattering of his bones like he expected, nor was it even the feeling of submersion. Instead, he felt himself become cocooned inside some strange, thick, liquidy substance before being pulled across all of space and time as though he were traveling straight through the void. After a few disorienting, almost nauseating seconds, he was spit back out onto solid ground where he sat on his hands and knees and just breathed in the feeling of fresh air. His soul began to beat slower in his chest and his thoughts began to clear as he realized he was no longer in danger.

“Woah, there! Are you all right?” Dream whipped around at the jovial voice, which seemed far more curious than concerned, “I don’t normally take along passengers. Didn’t know you’d react so poorly to it!” Though it was phrased like an apology, the tone sounded like anything but.

Finally, Dream was able to get a clear look at the stranger. They were short, perhaps even shorter than Dream, with a frame that appeared tiny in the oversized cloak and scarf they were wearing and bones that were completely covered from his neck down to his ankles, although oddly enough they weren’t wearing any sort of shoes. Their eye-lights had changed from the last time he had seen them, now appearing to take the shape of a circle and questionmark as the stranger tilted their head to the side like a curious child or needy dog.

“What the… who… who are you?” He asked, his voice far too frantic for his liking as he instinctively moved away from this odd little skeleton. They smiled down at him, offering a hand to help him up which Dream ignored in favor of getting up himself and moving a few more steps away. It wasn’t anything personal. He just didn’t know anything about this other person and though he hated how much he’d grown to distrust others it had become a necessary part of survival. They didn’t seem to be offended, however, and merely continued smiling as they let their hand fall back to their side. “Oh, I’m Ink! It’s nice to meet you!”

Dream warily looked them up and down before responding, “Likewise.”

They let out a little hum, bouncing up onto their toes before rolling back onto their heels, effectively rocking back and forth. “I’m not super good at the whole ‘conversation’ thing, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to give me your name in return.” They looked amused.

Dream looked off to the side, running through a list of various stories ranging from something close to the truth (like refusing to give his name because he didn’t know them well) to outright lies (like simply giving them a false name), only to be derailed by the scenery around them. Originally, he had been far too distracted by the disorienting port and odd skeleton, but now he was starting to truly understand how weird of a situation he was in. The two were standing on a floating island, surrounded by a sea of floating islands, all in what appeared to be some sort of odd space-like place. Each of the islands had an intricately decorated archway, inside which was probably the most stereotypical depiction of a portal Dream had ever seen, completely opaque and filled with swirling colors.

“Helloooo… Earth to Sunny?” Ink was suddenly much closer than Dream remembered them being, and their fingers were snapping right in front of their face, causing him to take a step backwards. A million different thoughts ran through his skull, but embarrassingly the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Sunny?”

They gave a little laugh before interlocking their hands behind their head and continuing their rocking. “Yeah! You wouldn’t tell me your name so I just made up one for you and ‘cause you’re wearing all yellow you made me think of the sun so boom! Sunny.”

Stars above, Ink’s rambling was even more disorienting than their portals. Dream found himself uncharacteristically at a loss for what to do, confused by the strangeness that had been thrust upon him. He hadn’t survived all these years by having poor flexibility, however, and with a little bit of mental coaching, he began to form something that resembled a plan. Okay, it was really just a question but still. He was getting there. (In the back of his mind a small voice yelled at him that there was something wrong here, something off about this stranger but for now he ignored it).

“Where… where are we?” Dream asked, looking around once more.

“Oh, we’re in the Doodle Sphere,” Ink responded casually, as though they thought he would know what that was.”

“The what?”

“The Doodle Sphere! It’s my home,” They offered no other explanation.

“This AU is called… Doodle Sphere?” It was an incredibly odd name, that was for sure.

“What? Of course not! That’d be silly,” They made a face as if to prove just how silly the idea was, “The Doodle Sphere is like… - they snapped their fingers again - a table of contents! It has access to all the different AUs and lets a person travel to each of them.”

Dream stared at Ink, completely off-balance once more by the little skeleton. He had never heard of places outside of the AUs. Nothing other than the void, at least. And while his first instinct was to believe Ink was merely confused or lying to him, the appearance of the place lent itself to their story. Worryingly, Dream didn’t know if he’d be able to port out of a place like this, but he oddly didn’t really want to right now. He had always had a more curious nature (Not quite like a Night. Night had always been the bookworm of the two but Dream still had that drive in him, that desire to know about the world around them. God he missed him).

“Well, Sunny, wanna come inside? I can make tea!” Ink asked, clapping their hands together before gesturing towards something behind Dream, which, upon turning around, appeared to be a house. It was about as strange as the skeleton that inhabited this place was, clearly made without any sort of floor plan in mind with rooms added on as they went and the walls covered in all sorts of colors and murals. In front of the home was a collection of items that ranged from mostly normal, like a set of garden gnomes, to the more eccentric, like a miniature windmill, to the absolutely absurd, like a life size replica of David Hassolhof. Without waiting for an answer, Ink had started off towards the house, humming and swaying just a little as they walked. Against every survival instinct he had, Dream followed.

The inside of the house was the same mix of oddly normal and completely eccentric things, with a couch and tv sharing space with the sort of things you’d find at a garage sale or an auction of a criminal’s items. The final result gave off a very uncanny value feeling, like a robot had analyzed a bunch of different homes and thrown in anything it thought fit without regards for how a few odd things that would be a little quirky in one home would look insane all together. Actually, on further thought, everything about Ink seemed to give off that vibe (there was something wrong, something missing about them, what was it).

The small skeleton rushed off to the kitchen, leaving Dream in the doorway to figure out what was the most appropriate thing to do in this situation. Finally, after a quick search of the room with special focus on the area around the couch, Dream hesitantly sat down on the green monstrosity, making sure to remain on the edge so that he could jump up at a moment’s notice. Clanging accompanied Ink’s humming in the kitchen area, though he couldn’t see what exactly was happening from his vantage point.

Finally having a moment to himself, Dream’s brain began to catch up with everything that was going on, rational thoughts forming together in the vague beginnings of a plan. Or, rather, a general set of things to do as opposed to doing whatever this stranger dragged him towards.

Ink waltzed back into the living room a short time later, two funny looking mugs in their hands, one of which they passed off to Dream before plopping down on the couch next to him. Though he didn’t plan on drinking anything they gave him, Dream took a cursory look inside his mug anyways and found something that absolutely did not resemble tea in any way, shape, or form. It was incredibly dark, with bits of something burnt floating inside of it and a smoky smell emitting from inside. A sideways glance towards Ink told him that they apparently had no qualms drinking something so horrendous, as they happily sipped on the noxious liquid. Of course, there was always the possibility that they had only given Dream the questionable drink but the smell of burning that came from their side of the couch said otherwise.

Growing uncomfortable with the silence and not wanting to try the poison sitting in his mug, Dream finally set down the drink and spoke up. “So, um, who exactly are you?”

“I already told you silly! I’m Ink,” they seemed to have an endless well of energy.

“Right,” Dream said, carefully considering his next words, “It’s just that I haven’t met a lot of people who can travel across universes, much less in such a… unique way. Not to mention this Doodle Sphere of yours,”

“Well, I can port because I’m an outcode, just like you,” They finally set their cup down and relaxed a little, turning their body to fully face him. “And while I don’t know why I’m the one who can access the Doodle Sphere, it probably has something to do with the fact that I’m the guardian of the multiverse.”

With that final statement, they casually picked up their cup again while Dream’s mind attempted to pull itself together again. “I’m-I’m sorry, back up. Guardian of the multiverse? Outcode?”

For the first time, a slight bit of confusion and maybe even annoyance appeared on the other’s face. “Uh, yeah? I protect the AU’s from outside threats. But, wait, you don’t know what an outcode is? Aren’t you and Nightmare the same age? I feel like you should know this by now.”

Dream froze. They knew about him and Nightmare. How? How could they know? Their relationship wasn’t public in the slightest. Neither of them wanted the rest of the multiverse to try taking advantage of their connection so in some odd agreement they never told another soul. So how in the world did some odd skeleton living on the outskirts of nowhere know about them?

He didn’t think. He couldn’t think. He simply acted on instinct, pulling out a small dagger he had hidden on his person at all times and pinning Ink to the couch, the dagger right up against their throat and their hands held in a death grip above their head. His knees dug into their thighs, pressing them down in a way that would probably bruise if held too long. He wasn’t planning on hurting them, star no, but the only reason he could conceive of them knowing about his connection to Nightmare was if the King of Negativity himself had told them and Dream had not worked this hard just to be captured. He would threaten them, scare them a little, but only he had to know that he never wanted to hurt another soul.

Infuriatingly, though, the smile never left their face. In fact, they seemed even more interested in Dream than they had mere moments before, not bothering to resist at all. “Woah, there!” They said, a small laugh bubbling up behind the words. “Sorry, Sunny. I didn’t mean ta startle you.”

“How the hell do you know about Nightmare and I?” Dream snarled as he pressed the dagger slightly harder into the other’s neck, making sure it didn’t cut while still appearing dangerous.

“Well, I’ve been around awhile, ya know?” Ink gave him a bit of a mischievous smirk, unconcerned with the dagger digging into his vertebrae. “When I first heard about Nightmare he sounded super interesting with his weird tentacles and goop and the way he supposedly just came up out of nowhere so of course I had to check him out! He didn’t seem to like me very much though. Always tried to kill me when I broke into his castle. Which was rude, but whatever.”

Dream gaped at the little skeleton. Who the hell did they think they were? Ink continued to ramble, the pout that had appeared when they talked about Nightmare trying to kill them fading almost immediately as they moved on. “Turns out, he really likes to read and has this super huge library filled with all kinds of books. I even found some romances that definitely had traces of goop left on them!” Dream’s soul ached at that. Night had always loved cheesy romances, even though he was super embarrassed by it. “Anyways, I found this super secret room in there and it had all this hidden stuff about his old home and this weird tree and some old friend of his, though I can’t remember their name.”

They shifted a little under Dream, turning their gaze back on him as they finished their story. “I kinda forgot about it for awhile, but then when I saw you I realized, ‘Hey, they look exactly like the person from those old photos!’ and if that was true then you must be super old, like him, so I figured you knew about outcodes and stuff too, since all multiversal travelers, especially outcodes, should know what they are.”

Dream stared down at Ink, trying to absorb all the information that had been given to him in the most rapidfire fashion. His knife no longer dug into their neck, though it was still there, and his grip on their wrists had loosed just a smidge. Not enough that they could easily get out, but just enough to be a little more comfortable. Even so, after only a few moments of silence, Ink began to squirm again, looking uncomfortable for the first time over the short period that Dream had known them. “Hey, bud. Not that I mind the view or anything, but would you mind getting off of me? I prefer being able to move around and stuff.”

Taken aback, a flush appeared on Dream’s cheeks, but he remained on top of the other, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “I still don’t know your intentions for bringing me here. You could be working of Nightmare and lying to me--”

He stopped short. They could be lying to him. Except, people couldn’t lie to him. Not easily at least. He could always feel their emotions radiating off of them like the world’s worst tell and because no one knew about his powers they never bothered to even attempt to hide them. With Ink, however, he felt nothing. It was as though he were alone in the room, though the rest of his senses clearly said otherwise. But how? They knew Nightmare, so maybe they had found a way to block out empaths from being able to read them? But he had never even heard of such a thing, never felt it on any of Nightmare’s other lackeys or even on the mercenaries that sometimes came after him, people that would surely know about his powers and want to have greater agency by hiding their feelings.

Ink seemed to be getting restless now, tapping their foot up and clenching their hand repeatedly, “Geez, and I thought I was a space case. You good there Sunny?” Dream focused on them and, relieved, they continued, “I can promise you that I’m not working for Nightmare or lying to you, but I guess you probably wouldn’t believe anything I say, huh? Is there anything I can do to get ya off of me at least?”

“I… you…” Dream stuttered out, “Your emotions,” Ink flinched ever so slightly, something that he might have missed if he wasn’t so close to the other and so in tune with the ways emotions manifested. It was almost as if they were worried.

“What about them? Kind of a weird change of subject, dude,” Their smile was still there but it had lost some of its genuineness, wavering a bit.

“I can’t… they aren’t…” Damn, he couldn’t think of a way of bringing them up without giving away his powers. “Whatever, it’s. Whatever.” The silence pressed on as Dream considered all his options. On the one hand, it would be intensely, monumentally stupid to let Ink up without knowing their intentions. But on the other hand, it seemed odd that they would go through the trouble of bringing him here while he was being chased by Nightmare’s guards. They could have easily let them catch him and boom, problem solved. The set up seemed far too odd for it to be a trap. And besides, as weird as they were they actually seemed to be pretty genuine about most things. The only time he felt like they weren’t telling him the truth was when they deflected his questions on their emotions, but even that may have just been because of how weird Dream himself had been about it. He made his decision.

With a sigh, Dream finally got off of Ink, which they immediately took as an opportunity to sit up and start fidgeting with their hands. While their focus switched away from him, Dream put his knife back in its holder, though he continued to keep his guard up. “Sorry,” he belatedly told them.

Ink’s smile was right back on their face as they responded, “Oh don’t worry! You’re hardly the first person to put a knife to my throat for saying the wrong thing. You’d think by now that I’d know wanted criminals were the kind of people I should be careful around, but it's just so easy to get carried away, ya know? And normally so much more interesting.”

Dream made a noncommittal noise as he hesitantly shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, “So, uh, Ink, was it?” they nodded enthusiastically, “What exactly is an outcode?” That he could at least get an answer for.

“Oh, right!” Ink’s hands moved around wildly as they spoke, helping them enunciate each idea. “An outcode is someone who isn’t a part of any AU. There’s only a couple of true outcodes -- outcodes who have been completely erased by their AU and thus have nowhere to go -- but people who’s AUs have been nearly or completely destroyed tend to be counted as outcodes too since they also don’t really have anywhere else to stay.”

“Destroyed?!” Dream yelped, suddenly on edge once more. In all his (admittedly short) time traveling the multiverse, he had never heard of such a thing. While he had met some people, such as Nightmare, who could feasibly “destroy” an AU by killing all the inhabitants, the idea that someone could be so powerful that they could tear about an entire reality was insane.

Ink didn’t seem to pick up fully on his distress, instead giving a little laugh and moving their hand in a “you-know-how-it-is” gesture, “Oh, yeah. I mean, what do you think I protect AUs from? Only thing that can threaten the multiverse as a whole is something that can destroy or stop AUs from happening.”

Hesitantly, Dream relaxed a little more as the shock wore off, “It’s just, I’ve never met anyone powerful enough to completely destroy an AU. Heck, I didn't even know that was actually possible.”

“Well, you know what they say! The more you know.”

“Heh, yeah. Yeah. Uh, Ink? I was wondering, why did you bring me here?”

“You seemed interesting,” They didn’t bother to go on anymore, as if that said it all.

“Interesting?”

“Yeah! For one, I knew you’d be cool ‘cause most of the people Nightmare are after are. He really can not take a joke. For two, you saved me, even though most people would save their own skins when being chased by something as terrifying as his guards. That automatically made you pretty interesting! And, lastly, you didn’t look like you belonged at all, so I kinda guessed you were probably an outcode which you basically confirmed from the rest of our interactions. Plus, even if he’s a grumpy Gus, Nightmare is super intriguing, so I figured that someone connected to him would be too.”

Dream soured a little at the last bit, not happy to be compared to and reminded of Nightmare again, but still considered all the things they had to say. It was an odd answer to say the least, not something he expected at all. And yet it was so unorthodox that he couldn’t help but believe it. “Huh. All right then, I guess. Well, it was really nice of you to help me out but I really ought to be going now. Could you tell me how to get out of here?”

They leaped to their feet, “Oh, wait! Do you really have to go now?”

“I mean, yeah? I need to rest pretty badly.”

“Why don’t you do that here then?”

Dream stared at them, “Here?”

They clapped their hands together excitedly, “Yeah, you could stay here with me! I can show you how to leave so you won’t be stuck.”

“But why?” Though the thought of having somewhere semi-permanent to stay was appealing, he couldn’t help but be wary of the offer.

“Well, based on your clothes and stuff I kinda figured you were homeless and needed somewhere to stay,” Dream frowned a little at that. He didn’t think he looked that bad. “And, again, I think you’re super interesting and I’d love to get to spend more time with you! It’s not often that I get to hang around people like that.”

Dream found himself once again at a crossroad. On the one hand, Ink was definitely weird as hell and quite possibly dangerous. But on the other, they seemed genuine in spite of their quirks and the offer was pretty tempting. And besides, he also had a pretty strong dose of curiosity and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the other just as interesting as they found him. He stood and approached them, holding out his hand.

“All right, deal. But I get to leave whenever I like.”

They beamed at him and grasped his hand, their grip firm yet dainty, “You got it, Sunny!”

He gave them a slight smile. He sure hoped he didn’t regret this, “Call me Dream.”

[writingstothevoid]

Naked Cuddles

Fandom: UTMV

Rating: M (only because of naked characters)

Relationships: Dream/Ink

AUs: genderbent (lesbians), humans

Ao3 link:

Summary: Dream and Ink enjoy some often under appreciated intimacies that don’t involve sex and reflect on their feels.

Ink was known for being a touchy person. She adored physical touch (in fact, she was certain it was one of her love languages), and loved hugging, cuddling, and holding hands with anyone she could. It had caused confusion before, as she made little distinction between platonic, romantic, or other relationships when it came to these sorts of things, and it didn’t help that she had also been known to randomly kiss people out of either excitement or curiosity. The more she interacted with others, the more she understood that this wasn’t really the norm, but she never really was one to care. As far as she was concerned, physical touch was great! It meant that you weren’t alone, a constant reminder that someone was right there with you. Of course, if someone else didn’t like it (such as a certain glitchy person she knew) she could be conditioned away from it with constant reminders as it wasn’t near as fun if the other person were so adverse. Or, rather, it was funny in the moment but detrimental to any further relationship in the long run.

But back to the matter at hand. Touch! Ink loved it dearly. And she loved doing it with her girlfriend, Dream, the most. It had taken a while for the other girl to get used to being with such a touchy person -- despite what many people thought about her, Dream was an incredibly reserved person and didn’t often seek physical touch with others -- but eventually the two were practically joined at the hip. No matter where they were, they could often be found holding hands, cuddling, huddling together, whatever they could get away with. Ink even found that one of her favorite activities was peppering Dream in kisses until the other girl was a mess of giggles and affection.

More recently, the two had been exploring with more intimate touches. This sometimes meant more sexual things; while Ink was asexual, Dream wasn’t, and Ink was more than willing to explore with her girlfriend, fed by her insatiable curiosity. But sometimes they were something else entirely. Baths, for example, became a fun pastime for two, sitting in the calming warm water that soothed their aching bodies after a battle and washing each other’s hair. But there was another that Ink found incredibly soothing.

It had been a particularly long day for the two. Dream had been dragged off with Blue to help an AU while Ink was stuck helping a creator for the majority of the day. While it was something Ink enjoyed a lot, after awhile she couldn’t help but feel the creeping loneliness and panic that filled her when she spent too long away from other people. It didn’t help that the AU was only partially done, still surrounded in many areas by endless white. By the time she got home, Ink felt incredibly drained and craving affection, with a fantasy formed in her mind. She had dragged herself up to their room to find Dream sitting on the bed, appearing to be in much of the condition.

“Ink,” she said, standing as the other walked into the room. Without a sound, Ink collapsed into Dream’s arms, burying her head into the crook of her neck while letting out a soft, “Dreamy.”

With a small laugh, Dream cradled Ink against her body, content to stand there with her partner in her arms. After a little while, Ink finally raised her head and looked at her, “Can we cuddle?” Ink asked.

This time, Dream gave a full laugh, “Do you even have to ask?” she teased, before climbing into bed. Instead of following, however, Ink continued to stand next to the bed. “I meant, could we cuddle naked?” she clarified.

Dream’s cheeks tinted red at Ink’s bluntness, but she let out an amused huff as she nodded in affirmation. The other girl’s face lit up, her eyes turning briefly yellow, before she quickly and unceremoniously stripped down. Dream’s face got ever more red at the other’s brash behavior but she had spent far too much time with the other to be caught off guard by it anymore. Far more carefully than Ink, Dream stripped out of her clothes, setting them neatly in the laundry bin to be washed later. She also took her hair out of the braid she kept it in out of practicality, running her fingers through the light blonde locks a few times.

When she finished, Ink had already burrowed herself underneath the covers with only tufts of her messy, bleach-blonde hair sticking out from beneath. Smiling softly to herself, Dream joined the girl under the covers. It took the artist approximately 0.5 seconds to tangle the two of them together maneuvering herself so that her entire body was underneath the covers and her head was tucked under Dream’s chin. Though for many it might seem like an uncomfortable arrangement, being trapped underneath the covers and unable to breathe easily, Ink didn’t seem to care much, though whether that was because of Ink’s chaotic, determined nature or her questionable status of being alive, Dream didn’t know.

With a contented sigh, Ink finally relaxed into the hold, turning her head so that she could hear the guardian’s heartbeat, one of her favorite sounds in the world. It meant that the other was alive and safe and that she wasn’t alone. The couple had first tried naked cuddling only a little while back. They had previously been exploring each other with the touches, wanting to know one another intimately in every sense of the world. After one such session, Ink had appropriately pulled the other to her, not wanting to bother putting their clothes back on for the night. Though it started out awkward, they eventually figured it out and each found that it was comforting in a way that couldn’t be described.

Even more than regular cuddles, naked cuddles gave Ink the sense of comfort that she so desired. Without any fabric in the way, all that was left for her was Dream in her complete and beautiful entirety and there was nothing to distract her from the fact that the thing she was cuddled up to was a living, breathing person. For one of the first times in her life, she felt… connected to someone. She felt safe and protected and unified in the way that so many others often described to her but she never felt herself. Dream was warm and soft, covered in scars that she trusted Ink, Ink of all people, to see, a masterpiece in her own right. And then of course there was the warmth. Ink ran naturally cold, something that was likely due to her soullessness meaning that she was technically sort of dead. By contrast, Dream always seemed to run warm. Cocooned in her blankets, pressed up against the warm body next to her, nothing to inhibit the transfer of heat, Ink finally felt warm.

But it was more than just that. The cuddles seemed to represent something deeped about the way Ink cared for Dream. Dream was warm and patient and interesting. She didn’t try to change Ink; she knew that forcing someone to change who they were wasn’t a good thing and had no desire to do it for anyone, including Ink. Instead, she helped guide Ink when the other needed it, explaining all the intricate societal rules that the artist so often fell prey to, and agreed when Ink’s frustrations leaked through. She didn’t try to change or control or manipulate Ink into being what she wanted. Dream accepted Ink as she was and in return gave herself to Ink, allowing the artist to appreciate every bit of the guardian that no one else saw. Dream was warmth and safety and home.

Dream loved naked cuddles no less than Ink. For years, she had trouble getting close to other people, traumatized by the way the villagers treated her and her sister’s corruption. Wrapped up with the small artist, she finally felt as though she had done something right. She could protect someone she loved and still be herself protected. She could give Ink what she wanted without having to lose herself in the process. With the other girl’s bronze skin pressing up against her, she finally felt connected to someone again, safe and content in the cool embrace. And then of course there was the coolness. Dream never seemed to be able to cool down, always running hot. So it came as a delight when she found that her cuddles with Ink were never ruined by Dream overheating, because the other girl’s icey touch soothed her hot core. It was wonderful, a poetic balance Dream couldn’t help but notice and be grateful for.

But Dream’s love for Ink ran deeper than just that. It felt like every piece that made the girl so polarizing to others only drew the guardian towards her even more. Everything from her cold temperature, to her independent nature, to her disregard for the rules society had set in place. It all seemed to oppose the things that had trapped Dream in the past. Her soullessness meant that she wasn’t influenced by Dream’s aura. Her independence meant she rarely relied fully on Dream for all her tasks and was content leaving Dream alone in those days where she needed to be away from people. Her chaotic nature made Dream laugh in a way she never thought she would, drawing her in with all her childishness and boldness and carefreeness. Ink was nothing like the villagers Dream grew up around, and she loved the girl for it. Ink was acceptance and trust and home.

Tightening her grip on the artist, the pair slowly fell into blissful sleep.

[writingstothevoid]

A Princess And Her Lady

Fandom: UTMV

Rating: G

Relationships: Ink/Nightmare

AUs: genderbent (lesbians), human (but could be read as skeletons with minimal difficulty), royalty

Ao3 link:

Summary: Princess Iris couldn’t be more different from her lady-in-waiting.

Princess Iris was an enigma.

Anyone who had come across her would say the same. She was not the picture of royalty -- unsophisticated, unmannered, excitable, mischievous -- and yet she managed to capture the hearts of many. She was simultaneously brutally (often cruelly) honest and unrelentingly kind. Messy yet captivating. Someone who caused mischief on anyone who crossed her path but still worked to make the world a more beautiful place. She was an unrefined gem, beautiful and rough and real. And no one knew that better than her faithful lady-in-waiting Naomi.

At first glance, Naomi was everything that Iris was not. She was quiet, a loner through and through, with a reputation for being brisque to the point of rudeness towards anyone who dared disturb her. Everything from her hair to her outfit always looked immaculate and though her social skills lacked she was never anything short of the epitome of perfect manners. The two were similar in one key way, however: neither seemed to be capable of acquiring or maintaining close relations with others.

Though Iris was charming, fun loving, and outgoing, her blunt and energetic nature put off many, as did the way she dismissed those she didn’t find interesting. It wasn’t that she was trying to hurt their feelings, but very few things (or people) could hold her attention for long and she never managed to grasp the back-and-forth of conversation others expected from her. Naomi, on the other hand, was distant by nature, content to sit on the sidelines and snap at anyone who got too close.

When Naomi had been assigned to Iris, it had seemed more like a punishment than anything. Iris rarely kept maids around for long, driving them away either accidentally or on purpose through her flighty, blunt personality and ceaseless pranks. After frightening her last maids so badly they fled the castle entirely, her mothers had begun to look for ways to mitigate the problem. They loved their daughter dearly, but they knew they couldn’t allow the behavior to continue at the rate it was going. Iris was nearly of age, and what had once been acceptable when she was a child would no longer be tolerated once she was of a queenly age. Not to mention that very few maids in the castle were still willing to work with the eccentric girl.

Finally, during one of their searches, the two came across Naomi in all her stern, perfect glory. Hoping that some of her mannerisms could rub off on their daughter (and knowing they had few options left regardless), they assigned her to Iris, a position she accepted with grace knowing it would be an income increase for herself and her sister.

The relationship began with an admittedly rocky start. The girls seemed far too different to properly get along. Naomi saw Iris as a spoiled brat with no idea how her actions affected others, while Iris saw Naomi as a humorless know-it-all who spent far too much time judging other people. They bickered constantly about everything from the princess’s disheveled outfits and disruptive pranks to the maid’s cold attitude and constant criticisms. It seemed to all around the two that the relationship would be over quickly and quite possibly with bloodshed.

And yet, Naomi continued to be Iris’s lady-in-waiting. Days passed, then weeks, then months. Slowly, she outlasted each that came before her and gossip began to spread about what on Earth happened between the two that would allow her to stay. Everything from blackmail to love affairs were suggested, but only Naomi and Iris knew what really happened those few months.

Above all else, Iris prided herself on her creativity. Whether it was in the paintings she loved to create or the pranks she loved to set, creativity permeated every part of her being and she wholeheartedly believed it made her both unique and interesting -- the two best things in the world to be. Today, she happened to put her creativity to what she considered to be good use (although those around her would probably disagree). She had the best idea for a prank from a book Naomi had told her about -- one where the heroine was trapped in a dollhouse where everything, though realistic, was fake and often stuck in place. Iris had thought about what it must be like, and suddenly had the idea to see how someone would react when everything in a room was either unusable or stuck in place, like a cup stuck to a table. Which was how she now found herself running through hallways and hidden passages, an empty bucket previously filled with glue in her hands and a giddy laugh escaping her. She darted into her room, shutting the door frantically behind her before breathing a sigh of relief as she relaxed against the door and dropped the bucket. She had done it! Now all she had to do was change into something more appropriate and watch the hidden cameras she had left behind.

“Where have you been?” Iris’s eyes shot open as she stared guiltily up at her lady-in-waiting. She gave the other girl a shaky smile, hoping to radiate innocence.

“Oh… heyy Naomi. What have you been up to?” The woman did not look amused, her arms crossed across her chest.

“Waiting for you,” she replied icily. “You were supposed to start getting ready for today’s meeting half an hour ago.”

“Oh was I?” Iris asked breezily, she walked past Naomi towards her bed which was covered in all manner of sketchbooks and dresses. “I must of lost track of time. My bad.”

“Iris,” It sounded like a warning. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” the princess protested, holding a random dress up to her chest. “Now come on, I’ve got to get ready. You said you were waiting on me, and I’m here now, so let’s get started.”

Naomi intercepted her, grabbing her wrist as she tried to rush away. Naomi knew all of Iris’s tricks, and knew that she was currently using her boundless energy to try and confuse her opponent in order to get away with her crimes. Well, unfortunately for the princess Naomi was a master at managing chaotic environments. She wouldn’t have survived this long with the girl otherwise.

Iris looked off the side, before finally letting out a sigh, knowing she was caught. “Fine, you got me. I was setting up a prank in the West Wing.”

“Iris!” Naomi chided.

“What? It wasn’t that bad! I just glued a few objects down, that's all.” Iris defended, clutching her chosen dress closer to her chest as though it could protect her from her maid’s [disapproval.

Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. “We’ve talked about this, Iris. You can’t keep doing this. Not now.”

Iris pulled away, downcast and annoyed. “I know, I know. ‘Not with all these important people here.’ Trust me, I’ve been told about a million times.” She looked back at Naomi and bounced up on her heels. “But Naomi, it was such a good one! And I made sure no one would actually get hurt. It’s practically harmless, and I haven’t done one in so long.”

Naomi’s face softened just a bit, and Iris knew she was winning. She continued on, going in for the killing blow with the softest, sweetest voice she could muster. “I got the idea from that story you read me. The one about the dollhouse? Remember that one, lune?”

At the nickname, Naomi finally gave up, dropping her crossed arms and stern expression. “You can’t do that to me Iris. That’s not fair.” She didn’t sound all that upset, though, as a grin broke out on the princess’s face and she gleefully squealed as she hugged the taller woman.

“You know you love me,” Iris teased from her place tucked under Naomi’s chin.

“Unfortunately,” Naomi quipped, although her smile and the way she wrapped her arms around the girl in recipiation said otherwise.

Iris pulled away from the embrace just enough to look up at her maid without letting go. “Oh, but Naomi, you should have seen it! The room looked completely normal. They’re not going to know what hit them!”

Naomi huffed goodnaturedly at the girl in her arms before finally pulling away. “That’s all well and good, but you’ve still got to get ready, dear. Your mothers won’t be pleased if you’re late again.”

Iris sighed in mock agitation, crossing her arms over her chest as she pouted once more, “Yeah, yeah.”

With a smile, Naomi leaned in and kissed the princess on the cheek, earning a blush and awed look from the other. As she walked away, she pulled the chest out of the other girl’s hands. It took Iris a few moments to get her senses back before she stumbled after her lady-in-waiting, her eyes a bright, brilliant yellow. “Wait! Ma lune, come back! We have a little time, don’t we?”

Naomi’s only response was to laugh.