'Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @drcxmlcss
They could've. But it's harder to think of better insults when they don't loathe him in this moment. For once, George sees through their own honest eyes -- not the arrogance that clouds their persona so frequently. Thick mist before their vision thins out and they realise that the company warms their heart. Dream can claim that he is visiting out of his own selfish greed all he wants. His desire for spilt blood over chequered tiles and wooden souls to feed the slacked maw of tyranny. It's alien, to feel about him this way. To feel about him in any way that doesn't make his muscles tense and his mouth burn with built-up venom, but it isn't something they can change, not when his presence lingers beside their deathbed to grant them a wish.
At the end of the day, whether they both choose to acknowledge it or not, this is meaningful. George will not weep into the emptiness of midnight when their fingers will not bend. They won't mourn the chess pieces that litter their desk at home, which they cannot save from demise because their hands will not move. Dream is giving them back a piece of their heart that they thought would not return for months. And while they wish they could press ink into paper, too, they're thankful for this, at least.
George hums quiet confirmation. Eyes dimming while they watch Dream's hand chase their own twisted one. For a moment, they pause, and jealousy bubbles beneath their skin. Their appreciation does not die out, but they will always prefer to hold a pawn between their fingers rather than drag a digital one across the screen of their phone. They gather themself for now, however. Guiding Dream to the bedframe and watching him cautiously. Some part of them questions what urged them to have to physically guide him rather than just give him verbal directions. George blames it on their exhaustion.
"Yeah," they say, "you got it. Just walk around the edge."
The corners of their lips quirk upwards, barely, briefly.
"How am I the idiot?" they scoff. It's surprisingly light-hearted, in comparison to the tone that they usually hold. While responding to Dream's insults, anyway. "You don't know what you're talking about. Just- shut up and find the table."
It is pretty amusing to watch. Dream edges around their bed slowly, and George's grin grows with every feeble step he takes. The part of them that is still nailed to violent black and white prays upon his downfall (George knows they won't be able to contain themself if Dream does indeed trip over), but they also can't help their eyes from wondering back to Dream's hand. The ridges of his knuckles stealing the place of his eyes. Marrow mountains protecting their image, and he does it all willingly in spite of the supposed animosity that burns between them.
"Oh, yeah, you can look," they reply eventually, drawing themself back from their distraction. Tipping their head to one side, cheek nestled into the pillow of the hospital bed. Dream has his back turned to them, but they watch him anyway. Hands aching and resting by their sides. Drowsiness tugs at their eyelids all the while.
"How long is this gonna take..?"
’Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @princessnotfound
Lighthearted scoffs are new. Interesting. Curious in such a way that Dream’s stance shifts. Relaxed, raised shoulders compliment a gentler pace, as if he’s been granted the gift of walking on air. Right, he totally doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Definitely. At least George doesn’t seem bothered by all this. Solemn as per usual, but not distressed or agitated.
He’s not sure why he cares, though. Not sure why the sound of George’s playful tone sticks in his brain, either. It’s not as grating as it usually is. This time, it’s soft — and he wonders if he could make them sound like that more often. Sure, it’s fun to irritate them into bitterness, but this may be as intoxicating as the venom.
Illogically so.
Dream presses his hold harder over his eyes, spirals of colors returning from the force. Come on now. The table. Focus shifts. With it, he’s able to accomplish what he set out for. The phone is secure in his free hand. All he needs now is confirmation of his position. But patience is not kind. It curls and wraps claws around his throat, aggravating sensitive skin.
Thankfully, George does speak up. Eventually, Dream’s mind huffs, but he keeps that to himself. Complaints can wait. Lowering his makeshift ‘blindfold’, Dream blinks into the darkness of the room. It takes a moment for him to adjust, but when he does, he realizes is indeed facing the wall. Good. Swinging his backpack off his shoulder and in front of him, he plops it by his feet. The laptop is swiftly retrieved when he sits, drawn out and onto his lap.
Cable there, connection set, and…
He gets to work. “Just a few minutes for the transfer. I had to create a fairly large database for the voice recognition to be effective.” He smiles to himself, pride swelling. “I mean, since there are so many chess terms… I didn’t want you to be unable to make a move just because I missed something.” That’s the absurd part, isn’t it? The fact that he went through and compiled the system himself, ensuring its functionality and vocabulary were perfect.
In hindsight, he recognizes that now. This is… hard to excuse as selfish. Ah. Damn. Dream sighs and taps his fingers mindlessly against the keys, from pinky to index and back again. A hypnotic tempo. The screen illuminates his face — or what isn’t hidden, anyway — with a dull blue glow. His hair, too, looks even paler in the lighting. Ethereal. He remains animated even still. Posture straight, shoulders rocking back and forth to a silent rhythm, as if nothing can stifle his spirit.
When the transfer finishes, Dream unplugs George’s phone. He reaches to set it back on the table, too, without turning his head. “Alright. Let’s try this out.” Satisfied, he opens a new tab and navigates to the app’s website. “The mod relies on chess notation. At any point, you can ask the computer to recite the game so far as a refresher.” There’s no need to explain more than that, he’s sure. George can figure it out. All he has to do is set up a game and—
“Dream has invited you to a chess match!” a computerized voice resounds from the phone. “1: E4. Accept the request?”
💋 // never been kissed? — a headcanon about my muse’s first kiss, who it was with, and how they felt about it.
meme: rainbow series headcanons (red)
Dream’s first kiss was… boring.
Outside the theater, the smell of popcorn and cheap soda left much to be desired. She slotted her hand in his, small in his grasp, and gushed about the movie. The greatest horror flick she’d seen… or so she said, hair twirled around her finger. She couldn’t believe how realistic the special effects were.
He hummed in response, nodding despite the dullness of the conversation. She was just so… insipid. He knew what was expected of him. Knew from the moment she tugged him in front of her friends and asked him out. Saying no, embarrassing her before the crowd, was impolite. So he agreed then, just as he agreed here — with a gentle bob of his head.
Maybe distaste was due to predictability. Nothing about her interested Dream. Bright pink lips, cherry-colored hair, and a dress too short for the weather. She was like any other girl. Not special, but also not awful. He could see kindness in the way she turned to face him. Could recognize the love in her eyes as she whispered a simple goodbye.
But he didn't feel the same. He didn’t care to get to know her. In fact, she couldn’t entice him even if she tried. And oh, was she trying. She grinned as lashes fluttered across her cheeks, seeking an answer he didn’t want to give.
Dream gave it anyway. A chaste peck held no real feelings. Carried no real weight. It was just to placate her — to help her feel wanted. That was all she really saw in him, anyway. A popular guy who could make her the talk of the school if she managed to win his heart. Not Dream. Clay.
Her lipstick was cherry flavored, too. It lingered in his mouth, progressively souring as he waved at her car. He let her down easy the next time, with confident smiles and soothing reassurance that it wasn’t her fault. He just doubted he could give her the time and attention she deserved. A pretty, perfect girl like her should shoot her shot elsewhere.
'Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @drcxmlcss
Ideally, Fundy would be here to guide Dream through the process of getting and accessing George's phone, but they'll have to make do without him for now. They aren't so selfish as to call for him now. While George doesn't exactly get along with Dream, the two of them have danced the tango of rivalry for long enough to understand the synchronicity between them. Maybe their harmonies clash at times, but they can coordinate, with time.
"Literally?--" they repeat in question, cut off by the collision of the door as it is swung open. Dream stands in the doorway, but before they can bring themself to say anything, they find their lips curling upwards, fondly, at the sight of his hands thrown over his eyes. Literally. Try as they might to suppress their amusement, George cannot entirely silence their snickering. It's almost endearing, in a way. They had every reason to believe that Dream would not care to respect their wishes of not being seen, but going to these lengths just to ensure that he doesn't catch a glimpse of them? If he wasn't such a prick, the gesture might even be sweet.
"Oh my goodness," George grins, tilting their head. "You're such an idiot. I mean- I appreciate it, but you're such an idiot."
Guiding him is a little bit more complex, though. Studying the distance between the doorway and the short path it'd take Dream to get to their phone. Furrowing their brows, George exhales and frowns a little, "well, I'll try my best, but since you aren't walking on an eight-by-eight checkered board, it's a little bit more complicated... but yeah. It'll probably be fine."
Before he can give any instructions, Dream is already moving. Striding forwards with a confidence that is all too tempting to snuff out. It'd be funny, if they guided him to walk into a wall head-first, but something keeps them from being so cruel. Wordlessly, they watch as Dream gets closer to the side of their bed. Hesitation is only brief. But it is long enough for George to realise that they did not open their mouth when Dream was mere centimetres away from the bedframe. Something is going to go wrong here, not at all intentionally.
For a moment, they say nothing, before grasping how untrustworthy their silence must be. George nods even if Dream isn't looking, "yes, of course I will. But- let's just make this easier. You're by the bedframe right now."
It's a stupid idea, but they reach out for him. Fingers stiff against splints. They can lean just far enough to brush against Dream's knuckles, though they cannot curl their fingers around his wrist. Even so, they do what they can to guide his hand to the edge of the bed, wincing.
"Just feel around the edge. The table is on the other side of the bed."
’Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @princessnotfound
Idiot? “Like you could’ve come up with anything better,” Dream retorts, though there’s a smile in his voice. Cocky, albeit missing his usual overconfidence. After all… George’s laughter resounds in his ears. It should be like nails on a chalkboard. Should be grating and foul and all things detestable. But it isn’t. It feels rewarding.
He almost considers doing a 180 and stumbling to the door again just for that. Almost. George seems willing to try guiding him, so he continues his bold stride through the room. That remains the case, of course, until spunk depletes and silence sours the air. Uncertainty is not supposed to sink so cruelly into his chest.
“The bedframe?” Dream tries to visualize the space. He can somewhat imagine where the bed is now, based on where he walked to, but which side he’s on… is debatable. He slips one hand over both eyes, letting the other fall to his side as he thinks. That’s enough for George to take the initiative.
The tips of splints press to the back of his knuckles. Instinctively, he turns to reach out and follow the touch. Yeah. Broken hands. Teeth grit, Dream does his best to prevent obvious tension. As George instructs, he finds the edge of the bed, the sensation of sheets familiar.
George shouldn’t have moved. They should’ve just let him bruise his shin on the edge of the bed. He’d figure out what it was from that and could’ve followed it just as easily. Why would they strain themself? Are they worried about him? Distaste coils around his ankles. He moves briskly even still, fighting a mix of emotions he doesn’t dare name.
“You’re the idiot,” he says. There’s a bluntness to the comment that holds some upset. But George must already know this. The stupidity of the gesture is… nauseating for all the wrong reasons. They shouldn’t have put themself in that position, not when flesh and bone struggle enough as is to mend.
He hates that he’s concerned.
Bit by bit, Dream makes his way around to the other side of the bed. His eyes remain covered by his other hand, firm enough that he sees splotches of color despite closed lids. He relaxes ever so slightly, recognizing the lip of a table when his fingers bonk against it.
There’s the bed… and there’s the table… so the wall must, theoretically, be in that direction. Dream turns just enough so George will no longer be in his potential vision. His hand glides across the table until it feels the chill of a screen and takes hold. From, there, he lifts the phone off its charging pad and keeps it by his chest… hesitating before opening his eyes.
“Am I good to look now?” Dream asks, cautious as ever. Already, he’s planning the motions it’ll take to dig his laptop out of his backpack. Five steps ahead — not once glancing back. It’s an easy transfer. Should only take a few minutes once George gives him permission to start.
Curiosity nevertheless stings the back of his neck. It’s a miracle he’s had enough self-restraint for this.
'Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @drcxmlcss
The knocking at the door to their room is what brings them back to consciousness before slumber can fully claim them. Three dull taps just to their left, and they can tell by the voice that the man who they are supposed to loathe has truly decided to visit them; George can’t help but feel awfully conflicted. Company is fleeting because they cannot expect to be watched over all the time, aside from by Fundy, who refuses to let his own life continue while George’s is restrained by fear and broken bones. Any sort of company they can appreciate, but this… This is Dream. And they appreciate the effort he has gone through to make his way here. That is the part that bugs them the most.
Their eyes feel heavy, weighted by their eyelids and the shadows hung beneath them, as they turn their head to look at the door. Hesitation is expected. There is the dilemma of whether Dream will be kind enough to respect their wishes of not being looked at, or if they simply came to mock his condition and fool them into thinking he would ever bother to make something as complex as a chess mod for them. Now that they look into the situation with more depth, George cannot fathom why they are trying to trust him at all. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they have a concussion that they weren’t aware about, too?
It takes them a moment to realise that they have been silent all this time, pondering. While they aren’t sure if Dream is still waiting for their response, they call out anyway, “hey, yeah, I’m awake.”
Eyes drifting to the small bedside table that is positioned to their right, upon which their phone sits charging. It’s inconveniently placed on the opposite side of the entrance, not to mention how close it is to them, and they begin to reconsider this entire visit. If Dream so much as catches a glimpse of them, they aren’t sure how they’ll handle it at all.
“It’s, uh,” they say, brows furrowed, “it’s on a bedside table next to me. You’ll have to walk around the bed.”
Part of them wishes that Fundy was here right now, but it’d be cruel of them to demand his presence when this is one of the few times he is out of the hospital. He limits his own freedom for no apparent reason other than to appease them, but George does not know how else to explain that the appeasement is only temporary. Their heart aches without him, sure. They feel at ease when they hear his voice at their side. But when Fundy falls asleep in the chair pulled up beside the hospital bed, that is when the weight of the guilt makes itself apparent. Branching out over their shoulders until they can barely take it and plead with Fundy to take some time for himself.
It rarely works. They’re glad he is out on his own accord, for once.
If they are met with mockery the instant that their rival enters the room, then so be it. This is a risk that they are willing to take out of desperation and loneliness. Being beneath the limelight for so long has made them afraid of the dark. Attention from Dream is still attention, with or without eye contact.
’Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @princessnotfound
Ah. Of course the phone is inconveniently placed. Dream bites his lip, dissatisfied with the development. Even if he’s careful, there’s a chance he’ll catch a glimpse of George by accident. He doesn’t— That’s not. Hm. George seemed uncomfortable by the notion. Beyond that, Dream promised he wouldn’t stare. That takes precedent. Genuine assurances should be upheld. So…
“Alright.” A pause, contemplative. “Alright,” he continues, “I have an idea.” And then, he opens the door. He doesn’t step through it, though. No. He waits in the hall, letting it swing open enough to allow entry. “This is, uh… It’s going to seem ridiculous. But, I’m covering my eyes. Literally.”
True enough, he presses his palms over his gaze. Vision obscures instantly, but he has enough sense of direction to keep track of where the doorway was. Smoothly, he enters, chin lowered and hands still firmly covering emerald hues.
Maybe the silliness isn’t a bad thing, now that he thinks about it. He probably looks absurd. With any luck, George will get a laugh out of it. If nothing else, an eye-roll.
“Just— Think of it like chess, except this time, you’re directing a living breathing person who would prefer not to stub his toe,” he jokes. “Warn me when I’m getting too close to something, yeah?”
It’s anxiety-inducing. More so than he realized. Bit by bit, nerves ignite, dizzying him without the stability of sight. The plan, however, is simple. Over and over, he reminds himself of it. He’ll move to the bedside table, turn to face the wall, and get to work. George can tell him when it’s safe to look. They’ll be his eyes, ensuring he doesn’t mistakenly peek, and keeping him from smacking into furniture. Hopefully, anyway.
Dream makes it far before he needs guidance. He teeters close by, confident strides turning slow the further along he gets. He’s less sure of himself. A strange thought for him. Being unsure.
At one point, he extends a foot to poke at something in front of him — the bed’s frame. Not knowing what it is, though, brings another bout of confusion. “You’ll tell me when I reach the table and can look, right?” he asks, disoriented. Perhaps this was a terrible idea after all, trusting an enemy. Someone who couldn’t care less about his well-being.
Why did he try, then? Why did he bother to go to such lengths? And why was he too stubborn to say ‘fuck it’ and give up now? Vulnerability is an awkward position to be in, but— It’ll be worth it. It’ll be worth it when he can pester George over chess again. When he can send the victory emotes he always does to their phone, mocking them for their mistakes. When he can, for all intents and purposes…
Until then, he’ll await instructions, ignoring the urge to see with all his might. Control can be postponed.
'Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @drcxmlcss
George is completely and utterly bored out of his mind.
Being bedridden is uneventful enough. Being unable to use his hands makes it all ten times worse; he cannot even scroll mindlessly on social media to keep himself occupied, even if only for a few moments. He'd much rather scan through the meaningless opinions of anonymous nobodies than bare another minute listening to the constant, repetitive beeping of hospital machinery. It feeds into the constant ringing in his ears and nearly compels him to suffocate himself in the awful discomfort of thin white sheets.
Part of him is beginning to miss the company of the pain. At least the dull ache accompanying the filthy browns and purples that now spatter his flesh made him feel something other than exhaustion. Medication eases the excruciating pain he was in previously, sure, but it also pressures him beneath the waves of drowsiness. George's eyelids hang heavy, cupped by dark shadows beneath his bottom lashes, and it takes a lot of willpower just to keep himself functioning. If it weren't for someone intending to visit soon, he would have allowed himself to drift off by now.
It doesn't quite register to him that he is disrupting his much needed rest and recovery time just to appease the presence of his greatest rival. It makes less sense the more he thinks about it, because he does not even have a method of retaliating against Dream, this time. Snarky quips do not fabricate quite so easily when his mind is slowed so severely by the liquid flowing into his veins. He cannot battle back with confident royalty, either, and his hands cannot carry the weight of his armies anymore. Here, George is vulnerable. Entirely so. And he questions why he is allowing Dream to come and visit him at all.
Maybe their competitive matches mean more to him than he would like to admit. Repeated battles among a familiar no-man's land have developed such a deep attachment that he feels lost without it. Just as lost as he feels without the ability to inscribe the ink of his bleeding heart onto pages, just as lost as he feels when he cannot fit thread through a needle. This hindrance has affected him too greatly. His heart aches thoroughly, with or without medication.
George sinks back into the pillow behind him. The lights are off - squinting irritates the bruising ebbing too close to his eye. It's tempting to let himself rest, and as his eyes close, he nearly gives in.
’Til You Forget Your Engravings // thread with @princessnotfound
Dream’s backpack feels heavier than usual. Not because of the content, no. He’s sure he hasn’t stuffed more in there since last time. Just his laptop and a few notebooks lay within the waterproof material, protected and secure. It nevertheless burns against his spine, weighted by more than physical objects. He tries to shrug it off, rolling his shoulders as he enters the hospital, but it only worsens.
Fantastic.
The receptionist gives him a flimsy ‘visitor’ sticker, which he presses against his chest just above his heart. It’s a little lopsided — hastily applied — but that doesn’t matter. He’s not going to be staying here long. He has classwork to do by tomorrow, and it’s already late afternoon. Visiting hours may go for another several hours, yet he’d never take advantage of that.
After all, Dream’s only here to install the mod on George’s phone. Nothing more, nothing less. Around his wrist is a cable bracelet. He normally uses it to charge stuff during lectures. This time, it’d connect George’s phone to his laptop, letting him transfer over the necessary files. He fidgets with it in the elevator, twisting the wire around and around until the doors open.
Even then, Dream hesitates. His steps down the hall are slow, purposeful, and overthought. For the first time in a long while, he doubts his code. Worries it might not pick up George’s voice the way he hopes. Frets over glitches and unexpected faults. Even the most carefully written lines of code aren’t guaranteed perfection. Under his mask, he chews his bottom lip. It’d be embarrassing if he’d have to come back here to sort through bugs or deliver updates.
Why he’s so concerned with it being foolproof, though, is beyond him. He shakes his head, stopping in front of a door. This is the one he was told to go to. George is right in here. His fist hovers over the entrance, hesitating. With a frown, he knocks. Three quick taps with the back of his knuckles resound down the mostly-empty hall. He doesn’t wait for silence to fill with mechanical beeps.
“Hey,” he greets, leaning near the door. “You awake?” If not, he’ll have to text Fundy and ask where George’s phone was left. Or maybe call it and follow the sound of its rings. Looking anywhere else is… Well. He won’t. He’s determined as always to keep to his promise. Once it’s made with genuine intentions, it’s set in stone. And somehow, he can’t fathom turning back on this one. “Just let me know where your phone is, and I’ll be in and out ASAP.”
🌙 * ― 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 ( prompts for the five senses. add [reversed] to reverse the action. feel free to change wording as needed & add details )
𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.
[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders
[ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets
[ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard )
[ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair
[ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair
[ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where )
[ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body
[ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body
[ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand
[ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body
𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.
[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what )
[ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what )
[ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what )
[ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what )
[ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what )
[ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood
[ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill
[ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try
[ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal
[ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ― sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion
𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.
[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver
[ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart
[ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc )
[ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail )
[ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky
[ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze
[ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room
[ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye
[ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc )
[ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life
[ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party
𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.
[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver
[ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what )
[ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc
[ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what )
[ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song
[ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc )
[ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep
[ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc )
[ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place
[ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc )
[ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them
𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.
[ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇 ] ― sender puts a scented bath bomb into receiver’s bath
[ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 ] ― sender lights a scented candle for receiver
[ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender puts perfume / aftershave on receiver’s ( wrist / neck / cheek )
[ 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender inhales receiver’s scent
[ 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 ] ― sender is drawn to the kitchen by receiver’s cooking
[ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 ] ― sender steals an item of receiver’s clothes because it smells like them
[ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender notices receiver smells of their shampoo / shower gel
[ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender gives receiver flowers
[ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender helps clean receiver after a long day / stressful situation
[ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver walk through the sewers to escape capture / avoid detection / chase someone
[ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender massages receiver with a scented oil
[ tilt ] + [ come here ] + [ whisper ] + [ trace ]
except its not canon i GUESS
meme: affectionate gestures
Dream has never seen them like this before. They didn’t tell him to wait before entering. They didn’t even bother to slip on a shirt after he opened the door. Instead, they stand there half-dressed before a mirror, hair still wet, and Dream feels foolish for staring. Foolish for the blush on his cheeks. Foolish for the ache in his lungs.
It’s when George’s eyes drift to the side that Dream takes action. Stepping forward, he gently holds their chin, urging them to look his way. Emeralds scan delicate features, flitting back and forth with a strange mix of emotions. Searching. Longing. Hoping. He guides them closer as if the distance is a trivial matter.
Breaking eye contact only lets him look elsewhere. Fingertips brush over burn scars on their neck. Tentative, aching. And there’s more. Permanently marked flesh seems impossibly pale tonight. He traces it, too, applying warmth with every gesture. Affection blooms and blooms, but it’s… not enough.
It needs to be enough. So he caves. Lips part. “You’re beautiful,” Dream whispers. Every inch of them, no matter how marred or ‘imperfect’, is beautiful. They will never be anything but. He looks at them, and all else sinks to the background. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes again, once more meeting their gaze. “Can you see it?”
He wonders if this time, in the reflection of his dilated eyes, George sees themself the way he sees them. Not in the way they were staring at the mirror, but in the way Dream glows with devotion. In the adoration of his touch. In the fondness of his words. It’s not mindless infatuation or blind love. It’s real, here for them and them alone. Who they are, how they think, what they say… He cherishes them, even with their faults, even with their scars.
As an enemy, he has witnessed all sides of them. He has seen the good, and the bad, and everything in between.
send any of the following emojis for a headcanon about my muse.
please specify a muse if sending to a multimuse blog.
🏳️🌈 ᴴᴬᴾᴾʸ ᴾᴿᴵᴰᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᵀᴴ 🏳️🌈 … ᵖᵉᵗᵃˡˢᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵃᵈᵉ
🤢 — feeling sickly? for a headcanon about my character and food allergies they have, if they have none; a food that makes them feel sick if they eat it.
🦚 — peacocking! a headcanon about something my muse has done/would do to show off or impress others.
🐍 — being a snake? a headcanon about a time my muse has betrayed someone, why they did it, and how they did it.
🍀 — a four leaf clover! for a headcanon about my muse and a time they have had good luck, and whether or not they believe in good luck charms.
🍃 — walking children in nature! a headcanon about my muse and their favourite outdoor activity, as well as a favourite plant, tree or flower.
🥒 — fresh cucumbers! a headcanon about something my muse does to pamper, treat and/or refresh themselves.
🍾 — pop the cork! a headcanon about a grand celebration in my muses life, whether it was their own or one they attended.
🧩 — a little puzzling! for a headcanon about how my muse approaches a challenging obstacle or task, and an example.
♻️ — reduce, reuse and recycle! a headcanon about my muse and how they recycle and/or reuse things, how they stretch their money/resources and how they approach being environmental.
send any of the following emojis a headcanon about my muse.
please specify a muse if sending to a multimuse blog.
🏳️🌈 ᴴᴬᴾᴾʸ ᴾᴿᴵᴰᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᵀᴴ 🏳️🌈 … ᵖᵉᵗᵃˡˢᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵃᵈᵉ
😶 — expressionless! for a headcanon about a time my muse reacted with nothing more than a blank stare, and why that was.
👑 — never let them take your crown! a headcanon about something my muses does that makes them feel good about themselves on a bad day.
🐯 — the eye of the tiger! a headcanon about a song that will instantly get my muse invigorated, and why that song elicits that reaction.
🐝 — to sting or not to sting? a headcanon about a time my muse chose to actively defend themselves in a dangerous and threatening situation.
🌼 — you’re my buttercup! a headcanon about a nickname my muse has had, or has and who gave it to them? why? how does it make them feel?
🌞 — when morning comes! a headcanon about my muse and their morning ritual.
🌙 — lunar interference! for a headcanon about my muse and how, or if, their astrological sign/s apply to them.
✨ — twinkle, twinkle, little star! a headcanon from my muses’ childhood and a story or nursery-rhyme they remember from that time.
🍋 — lemons or lemonade? for how my muse handles a disappointing situation, and what approach they take to being dealt unfortunate circumstances.
🧀 — absolutely cheesy! a headcanon about my muse and flirting in any relevance, eg. are they flirty? how do they respond to being flirted with?
🍯 — sticky sweet fingers! a headcanon about my muse and their favourite sweet treat, and why it is their favourite.
🔑 — a key without a lock! a headcanon about a part of my muse they keep secret from others/most others. additionally if they share this secret, who do/would they share it with and why?
🔐 — under lock and key! a headcanon about something in my muses private area (room, lodgings, etc.) that they keep under lock and key, and why?
send any of the following emojis a headcanon about my muse.
please specify a muse if sending to a multimuse blog.
🏳️🌈 ᴴᴬᴾᴾʸ ᴾᴿᴵᴰᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᵀᴴ 🏳️🌈 … ᵖᵉᵗᵃˡˢᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵃᵈᵉ
🤬 — get loud! a headcanon about my muse and what will elicit a loud or explosive reaction.
🧶 — are you tangled up? a headcanon about a time my muse has felt internally ‘tied up in knots’ with a decision or emotion.
🦊 — a quick orange fox! for a headcanon about a time my muse had to be stealthy or sneaky in their life, and why.
🍁 — foliage changing colours! for a time in my muses life that brought about a natural season of change for them.
🔥 — everything’s all aflame! a headcanon about a time in my muses life that felt incredibly chaotic or out of control around them.
🍑 — you’re a peach! a headcanon specifically about a physical aspect of a person they are attracted to.
🏀 — lets bounce! a headcanon about my muse and recreation sports.
⛺️ — are we going camping? for a headcanon about a time my muse spent a night, or nights, outside in the woods or any applicable outdoors.
🎁 — a season of giving! a headcanon about how my muse shows, or has shown, their affection specifically in a gifting way.
📙 — in the orange book! for a book, poem or piece of literature that my muse really loves, and why.
☢️ — hazardous! a headcanon about my muse and their knowledge or exposure to poison, in any context or relevance.
send any of the following emojis a headcanon about my muse.
please specify a muse if sending to a multimuse blog.
🏳️🌈 ᴴᴬᴾᴾʸ ᴾᴿᴵᴰᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᵀᴴ 🏳️🌈 … ᵖᵉᵗᵃˡˢᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵃᵈᵉ
💄 — smudged lipstick! a headcanon about a time my muse wore makeup or a costume, whether it be cosmetic, theatre, or leisure.
💋 — never been kissed? a headcanon about my muses first kiss, who it was with and how they felt about it.
👅 — taste the rainbow! a headcanon about a favourite and/or least favourite meal.
💃🏼 — dance, dance, revolution! for a headcanon about a time my muse danced; when, why and with whom.
👠 — one step at a time! a headcanon about a time my muse had to learn to take things slowly and with patience.
🎒 — packed a bag! for a headcanon about what my muse carries with them in their bag, or would pack with them on a short trip.
🥀 — the last petal falls! a headcanon about a time my muse has pined or felt unrequited love for another.
🌹 — roses in bloom! for a headcanon about a time my muse gifted or received roses/flowers of some sort, and what that meant to them.
🍎 — an apple a day! a headcanon about a daily ritual of my muse, and why they do that.
🍒 — cherry bomb! a headcanon about a time my muse rebelled against their parents, guardians or others.
🌶 — spice and delight! for a headcanon about an intimate experience in my muses life.
🚨 — warning lights! a headcanon of when my muses has been involved, or witnessed, an emergency or accident.
⏰ — tick tock, tick tock! a headcanon about my muse and time or time management.
🧨 — a long fuse! a headcanon about my muse and their temper, and a time when they lost it.
🩸 — thicker than water? for a headcanon about my muse and their family; whether biological or a found family, and how they feel about family ties.
📕 — a little red book! for a headcanon about a time my muse read aloud to someone, and why.
The ultimate affectionate gestures compilation ( version 3.0, improved and even more extended )
Send one of the following prompts for my muse to reach out affectionately to yours!
Feel free to combine them ( example: send [ brush ] + [ push ] for my muse to brush the loose strand of your muse’s hair our of their face and then push it behind your muse’s ear ), reverse them ( example: send [ reverse + caress ] for your muse to caress my muse’s cheek ) and/or add details.
[ tilt ] - for receiver to tilt sender’s chin gently to prompt them to make eye contact with receiver
[ curl ] - for receiver to curl their fingers under sender's chin while resting a thumb on their cheek, not quite tilting but just... holding
[ cup ] - for receiver to cup sender’s face with their hand/s
[ caress ] - for receiver to caress sender’s cheek
[ place ] - for receiver to place their hand over sender’s hand where it’s placed on receiver’s cheek
[ boop ] - for receiver to boop sender on the nose
[ nose rub ] - for receiver to brush their nose against sender’s nose
[ nose ] - for receiver to kiss sender on the nose
[ palm ] - for receiver to kiss sender on the palm
[ back ] - for receiver to kiss sender on the back of a hand
[ knuckles ] - for receiver to kiss sender’s knuckles
[ shoulder ] - for receiver to place a kiss on sender's shoulder / shoulder blade
[ nape ] - for receiver to place a kiss on the nape of sender's neck
[ jaw ] - for receiver to place leisurely kisses along sender's jaw
[ cheek ] - for receiver to kiss sender on the cheek
[ lips ] - for receiver to kiss sender softly on the lips
[ forehead ] - for receiver to kiss sender on the forehead
[ lean ] - for receiver to lean in and press their forehead against sender’s forehead
[ pepper ] - for receiver to pepper sender’s face with kisses
[ eyes ] - for receiver to kiss sender’s closed eyelids
[ tears ] - for receiver to kiss away sender’s tears
[ wipe ] - for receiver to wipe away sender’s tears
[ gaze ] - for receiver to gaze into sender’s eyes
[ stare ] - for receiver to look affectionately at sender / follow sender's movements with a look full of fondness
[ roll ] - for receiver to roll their eyes affectionately at sender
[ scalp ] - for receiver to massage sender’s head
[ pat ] - for receiver to pat sender’s head
[ brush ] - for receiver to brush the hair out of sender’s face / eyes / forehead
[ push ] - for receiver to push the loose strand of sender’s hair behind your muse’s ear
[ top ] - for receiver to kiss sender on the top of their head and then rest their cheek against it while holding sender close
[ chin ] - for receiver to settle their chin on the top of sender’s head while holding them close
[ hair ] - for receiver to place lots of short, sweet, messy little kisses on the crown of sender’s hair
[ run ] - for receiver to run their fingers through sender’s hair
[ stroke ] - for receiver to stroke sender's hair / head
[ twirl ] - for receiver to twirl a strand of sender’s hair around their finger
[ hand ] - for receiver to place their hand on sender’s shoulder / neck as a way of supporting / comforting / reassuring them that receiver is there for them
[ wrap ] - for receiver to wrap their arm around sender’s shoulders
[ massage ] - for receiver to massage a specified part of sender's body (ex.: hand/s, foot/feet, knee/s etc.)
[ relax ] - for receiver to massage sender’s shoulders and/or neck
[ soothe ] - for receiver to rub sender’s shoulders soothingly
[ rub ] - for receiver to rub sender’s back
[ body ] - for receiver to give sender a full-body massage
[ snuggle ] - for receiver to snuggle to sender’s side
[ waist ] - for receiver to wrap their arm around sender's waist
[ support ] - for receiver to support sender with an arm around their waist / shoulders and/or pull sender's arm across receiver's shoulders to better support their weight
[ catch ] - for receiver to catch sender as they stumble or collapse from exhaustion / sickness / injuries
[ lift ] - for receiver to lift sender up in their arms
[ shield ] - for receiver to shield sender from a threat, be it a person or a force of nature
[ tackle ] - for receiver to tackle sender, playfully or to shield from danger
[ come here ] - for receiver to gently pull sender towards them for a hug or a dance
[ behind ] - for receiver to hug sender from behind
[ rest ] - for receiver to hug sender from behind and rest their cheek against sender’s back / shoulder
[ rock ] - for receiver to hold sender and rock gently from side to side
[ tuck ] - for receiver to tuck sender against their chest, covering them with their jacket / coat fronts, in order to keep them warm / safe from rain
[ head ] - for receiver to rest their head on sender’s shoulder
[ sit ] - for receiver to settle down on sender's lap
[ lap ] - for receiver to place their head upon sender’s lap
[ guide ] - for receiver to guide sender to place their head upon receiver’s lap
[ chest ] - for receiver to hide their face in sender's chest
[ hide ] - for receiver to guide sender to hide their face in receiver’s chest
[ heartbeat ] - for receiver to place their head upon sender’s chest, right over their heart, to listen to its beat
[ listen ] - for receiver to guide sender to rest their head upon receiver's chest, right over their heart, so they can listen to its beat
[ help ] - for receiver to give sender a hand when they’re stepping up or over something
[ touch ] - for receiver to touch the back of their hand to the back of sender’s hand as if inviting to hold hands
[ thumb ] - for receiver to run their thumb over sender’s thumb while holding hands
[ hold ] - for receiver to hold sender’s hand and interlace their fingers
[ squeeze ] - for receiver to squeeze sender’s hand
[ fingers ] - for receiver to play with sender’s fingers absent-mindedly
[ shapes ] - for receiver to trace imaginary shapes on sender’s skin
[ cover ] - for receiver to cover sender with a blanket / jacket / coat as they’re lying down
[ drape ] - for receiver to drape a blanket / jacket / coat around sender’s shoulders
[ comb ] - for receiver to brush sender’s hair
[ braid ] - for receiver to braid sender’s hair
[ nails ] - for receiver to tidy sender’s nails and/or do a manicure
[ makeup ] - for receiver to help sender put on their makeup
[ jewelry ] - for receiver to help sender put on a piece of jewelry
[ tie ] - for receiver to help sender do their tie
[ scarf ] - for receiver to tie a scarf around sender's neck so they won't get cold
[ smooth ] - for receiver to straighten sender’s collar / lapel / brush a hand over sender’s clothes to smooth them out
[ zip ] - for receiver to help sender zip their dress / jacket / button their clothes
[ dress ] - for receiver to help sender put on an item of clothing
[ unbrella ] - for receiver to share their umbrella with sender to save them from rain / scorching sun
[ cook ] - for receiver to cook something for sender
[ treat ] - for receiver to offer new food / receiver's favorite food to sender
[ feed ] - for receiver to feed sender
[ drink ] - for receiver to help sender drink
[ cocktail ] - for receiver to make a cocktail for sender
[ pour ] - for receiver to pour sender a drink
[ bath ] - for receiver to draw a warm bath for sender
[ water ] - for receiver to join sender in the bath
[ wash ] - for receiver to help sender with washing their hair / body
[ blowdryer ] - for receiver to help sender dry their hair with a blow dryer / a towel
[ towel ] - for receiver to dry sender's body / clothes with a towel
[ spread ] - for receiver to spread out a blanket / towel / carpet on the ground so that sender and they can sit on it
[ blanketfort ] - for receiver to build a fort out of blankets, pillows etc. for / with sender
[ picnic ] - for receiver to invite sender to a picnic
[ swim ] - for receiver to invite sender to swim with them
[ hobby ] - for receiver to share their favorite pastime with sender
[ teach ] - for receiver to help sender learn something / how to do something
[ read ] - for receiver to read something aloud to sender
[ trinkets ] - for receiver to show sender and/or tell them about things in their possession / things they love
[ beckon ] - for receiver to beckon sender towards them
[ whisper ] - for receiver to whisper something in sender's ear
[ tickle ] - for receiver to tickle sender
[ cheer ] - for receiver to try to cheer sender up
[ faces ] - for receiver to make funny faces at sender
[ shove ] - for receiver to playfully shove sender
[ pull ] - for receiver to pull sender down to sit on receiver’s lap
[ bed ] - for receiver to push or pull sender back on the bed when they try to get up
[ cloth ] - for receiver to bath sender’s face / neck with a cloth soaked in cool water
[ patch ] - for receiver to patch up sender's wound/s
[ pain ] - for receiver to kiss sender where it hurts to soothe their pain
[ trace ] - for receiver to trace sender’s scar/s with the softest press of their fingertips
[ ask ] - for receiver to ask sender about their scar/s
It isn't their fault that Dream is looking too deep into their intentions. If he chooses to see their makeup as a mark of ownership, that's his own problem. If anything, George finds it oddly amusing. They'd have to be insane to want Dream as their own when they can hardly stand the guy as it is. Smeared lipstick and the blood drawn by ivory bones is nothing more than the simple animalistic desire to whittle down and conquer. Mark the doomed prey as a target board is painted upon. The only things of his that they would care to have in their possession are the winding pathways of his mind, or his insufferable unpredictability; that'd be nice to keep under their thumb.
"Come on now, don't act like it was all me, darling."
They find it within themself to turn back around and face him. While the darkness conceals their own rose-tinted embarrassment, flushed and spreading sick over the bridge of their nose and the firm lines of their cheekbones, they wish they could see his face. Daring enough to extend a hand to their rival's chin and thumb away a little smudge of crimson that they didn't quite get. It comes off easy, though George hopes he will see it consistently in the mirror.
Biting into a polite smile, as if they did not wound him with the same eager teeth a moment ago. Still stained vermillion at the tips. Red is meant to stain ivory. Blood circulates their brittle bones every waking moment -- it isn't wrong of them. Surely.
Instead of pulling back, they lean into the proximity. Pressing down on Dream's bottom lip with their thumb, with a touch so delicate it is almost like they think him fragile, and they laugh at his hipocrisy. With such a reputation to uphold, George has perfected the art of a seraphic front. Innocence is a delicate thread. It takes time to weave something so thin fragile into a vessel. Dream trying to act as though he was not the one setting them off, intentionally pushing them to their breaking point, is considerably amusing.
"Pretending that you weren't moments away from biting me, too, I felt it. It's not like you to pussy out, Dream. What happened?"
They take his chin between their thumb and index finger, tugging him close. A little too close for comfort. Mouth twisting with mirth, "afraid you'd like it a little too much?"
It's only fair that they get to piss him off back. Karma bites hard and they are nothing but right in serving him consequence. Whether it be through the bite of their tongue or their teeth. Wounding him with what they'd dare to say or where they'd dare to make him bleed. George's eyes follow Dream's phone with an air of amusement about them. There was no need for him to record the video on his own phone, when George is the one who needs to submit it. Sue them for jumping to a reasonable conclusion. It's too difficult to stop their lips from curling into a grin, head cocked at an angle.
"Obsessed enough?" they repeat with raised eyebrows. Maybe not enough. But certainly -- apparently -- somewhat. "That wasn't what I was insinuating at all, but since you just confirmed your little obsession without even being prompted… Aw. I'm flattered, really."
Darling. The nerve. Dream couldn’t roll his eyes any harder, teeth grit. A thousand replies circulate his mind, each one begging for an utterance. None of them reach his lips, though. They settle on his tongue, heavy, lingering with the taste of sparks and iron. Instead, he huffs, his smile lazy. Inconsequential. So what if he was? So what if he’d fueled flames? George hadn’t snuffed them out.
George added just as much kindling, in fact. Is still adding it, thumb on his bottom lip, laughter in the air. They must want him to combust. To ignite so rapidly, he’d be unable to turn back. Why, he isn’t sure. They’ve always liked to push his buttons, as if doing so would expose the intricate networks he’s spent ages concealing. He resists. A siren’s song means nothing. Holds no sway, either.
The corner of his mouth quirks up, perpetually at ease. Or, at least, seeming that way. He keeps his thoughts at bay, ignoring the blaring alarms regardless of whether they’re warranted. “Nope,” he says simply. “I was afraid you would. I mean, look at you even now.” He grabs their wrist firmly, long fingers curled tight around skin and bone. Dwarfing George’s own palms, he can’t help but smirk as he pries their touch away. “Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”
He releases to prove his point, to emphasize just how much more self-restraint he has. “So sorry. I have that effect on people.” Emeralds trail back down to his phone. Mindlessly, he responds to some of the messages he’s gotten since the party started. Not much. Most everyone must be here, partying. Their phones are the least of their priority. And as a result, Dream fails to find a good enough distraction. Attention keeps diverting to George, who still stands close. Dangerously close.
When Dream realizes his mistake, it’s too late to correct it. ‘Enough.’ He hadn’t thought about it, but… “Of course you would read into the stupidest of things,” he scoffs. Fingers itch where they hold his phone, urging him to finally reposition his mask. He doesn’t. Caving now would be a show of cowardice. That doesn’t mean he enjoys this, however. The expression he wears betrays no discomfort, but there’s a stiffness in his jaw that won’t quite go away. A blush on the tips of his ears, too.
Flattered, huh? “No, you’re—” A sigh. “You’re tipsy,” he counters, tucking his phone away. It’s a sad excuse, he’s aware, but one they can’t fully deny. He’d tasted the bite of alcohol when he’d kissed them. “You’re grasping at straws, angel.” Teasing bite. He takes one of George’s glowing wings in between his fingers, lifting the material as if to mock its beauty. He could tear claws through shimmering magic if he wanted to. Corrupt perfection, leaving George utterly grounded. Apteral. Vulnerable.
But instead, he trails down to correct one of the straps. Skin briefly brushes skin, alighting nerves. “Go fly somewhere else, yeah? Before you end up ‘fallen’.”
Everything happens all at once. George’s emotions run wild with the same fervent adrenaline as what their body tingles with. They hate too deeply. Mouthing abhorrence against a smile they’d tear off Dream’s face if they could, to let his pride bleed away. But they love too greatly the things that will not appreciate their affections; victory swells their heart enough to keep them sane, at least. Grants them the will to leave Dream unharmed - for the most part - even when they drink in his laughter and sink their teeth into his lip. They hope they leave him to choke on their taste and his own blood to shut him up.
But they don’t expect the retaliation. Breathing a surprised sound into another man’s mouth when they find themself pinned, wide-eyed, trapped between the wall and the figure that they have longed to see at their feet for a while too long. Dream’s element of chaos is present outside of chequered boards, how could they forget? His unpredictability continues to catch them off guard.
Maybe it’s about time they fed into disharmony, too.
George has always wanted to take Dream apart, ever since they first met in battle with drawn swords. Like a clockwork toy, they intended to indulge themself in every piece of him. Rip him open with eager crescent-carved nails and a devilish curiosity. They hung him on the wall of thought. A part of them has always wanted to see him bleed, they needed him split open by the point of a sword -- not by their very own canine teeth. They’ve wanted to crack open his skull and take a look inside, but they are here tugging at his hair instead, as if it’d give them a means of entry.
Their hands meet behind Dream’s neck and George can’t help but feel amused. He kisses them like he has thought about it. Like he has wanted to. Not for a second do they bother to fight back. They grant him access like they want him to prove that he wants more than just victory, when they taste so much sweeter. When their lashes flutter and their head knocks gently against the wall, George wonders if Dream would ever believe that surrender is success, sometimes. They doubt it. Licking through his teeth and drawing him impossibly closer just to see if he’ll eat them alive.
And maybe, just maybe, he will understand, and fall to his own impulsiveness.
Tipsy on both liquor and the taste of triumph (they refuse to even consider that the taste of Dream would dare to linger in his mind any longer), George hums with lidded eyes when they part. Still close enough to breathe his air, hot and stickier than passion’s sweat and tears.
“Getting a little carried away?”
Fortunately, George isn’t nearly so kind as to leave it at that. They find their nails planted into Dream’s jaw, etching moons along the bone. Pushing a thumb to the corner of his lips and dragging down, leaving their lipstick in an ugly smear down to his chin. His mask will easily hide it, but that isn’t the point; it is a mockery directed at Dream and no one else. They don’t care who else sees it. All they want is for him to understand that he is marked with their makeup, pressed so firmly into his skin that it’ll never truly wash out. Nearly as permanent as where their teeth cut him open. It will become a subject of his nightmares and his darkest thoughts, they are sure of it.
But they know they are damned, too, because he lingers in their mouth. The taste of a bad dream’s resolution. The taste of dispersed stars and distant galaxies. Accompanied by the familiar bite of iron -- they hope it’s Dream’s blood in their mouth.
George’s phone vibrates in their pocket and they presume the video got sent across. They raise an eyebrow, though, eyeing Dream’s phone. They need it for the submission, but it’s not like he needs the video for any reason in particular. If they could bear another minute around him, maybe they’d scold him for it.
“You’re keeping it?” they ask and roll their eyes. Fishing their phone out of their pocket to confirm it got sent through. They turn away, hoping to leave as soon as possible, dismissively waving a hand and frowning. “I'm not sure how I feel about you getting off to a video of you kissing me. But I'll just try not to think about it, I guess...”
Lipstick smears down Dream’s chin, staining skin red. He raises his brows at the gesture — at how George lingers in shared proximity — but doesn’t make a move to wipe it off. His gaze does, however, narrow. Irritation covers confusion. What are they doing? That wasn’t part of a kiss. Or a game. At least… not the one he thought they were playing. Not Cupid’s Arrow.
Then again, were they ever playing it? Maybe at first. But here, close enough to breathe each other’s air, things feel different. Weird different. The kind that leaves his own cheeks rosy, dull in the darkness. How long had it been this way? Or, rather: When did he slip? At some point, gears switched through ever-changing rules. He should’ve known better than to assume straightforward victory.
There’s always more at stake when George is involved. Twists, turns; ups, downs. Predictability and strategy only go so far. Not even his own style can carry him through an unlit maze. He strayed from his path, and these are the consequences.
“Could ask the same,” Dream says, caving and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I mean, come on. Possessive much?” Right. Bites and smudged makeup are unnecessary. They’re the one who got carried away. He’s not theirs; what makes them so inclined to leave marks?
…Of course, he knows who truly pushed it. A quick peck would’ve done the trick. But then, he wouldn’t have won anything. George will already get their stupid prize. He deserves the chance to taunt them in exchange. It just didn’t end the way he intended.
They let him. They surrendered. They acted with placating ardor. It’s an outcome he didn’t foresee, and— And that’s why they did it, isn’t it? Yet again, they’re holding something over his head. In giving up, they’ve ticked him off. God, he hates them. They always find a way to stick, to circulate through storms of thoughts with undulating persistence.
It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if he knew he’d done the same. Yeah, he could lie to himself. He could declare compliance a sign of success and move on. But he’s not an idiot. This isn’t true submissiveness. This is a tie. Worse, George did whatever they could to stand taller, and if he keeps overthinking it, he’s going to let them.
Fuck that.
Dream refocuses on his phone. Their voice drags him back, though, as if they refuse to let him go. Keep it? “I— What?” he scoffs. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m not saving it.” Playfully, he rolls his eyes. The video is, in fact, deleted from his camera roll. George isn’t worth wasting storage on. Nonetheless, their concern is funny.
“Where’d you get that idea from, huh?” He reclines against the wall once more, eyes glued to his screen. “First the lipstick… now you think I’m obsessed enough to save a video of you?” Jests run rampant as heat dissipates. He needs to get the last word in. “Seems almost hopeful. Would hate to see where else your mind goes, George, if you misunderstood me trying to piss you off that badly.” Because that’s all the kiss was. Him trying to piss them off.
