~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬~

~𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏~

Bonus scene? Of course. I owe it to you guys for being so behind.

Also, height chart. Yes, I understand lots of these aren't canon. Fresh was the only one who I made accurate to his real height. And obviously you're probably not 5'4". Don't focus on numbers too much, I made this chart for comparison.

Yes, canon Ink is 3'8". Yes, Mario has been speculated to be that height as well. But I know having a character that jarringly short might be off-putting, so as previously stated, TTFTSGW Ink is 5'8".

That's all. 

Happy reading!!

~

With a final huff of relief, Dream clicked his brother's empty suitcase shut. Laying the suitcase flat on the ground, he slid it under the bed with a light shove.

He stretched out his arms, groaning to himself as his back let out a satisfying crack. A vague grin lifted onto his face with satisfaction. Dream fell back onto his own bed, sinking into the mattress as if it were a cloud.

Two starry eyesockets stared at the ceiling, surveying every intricate carving and painted line of blue or gold. A small, golden chandelier lit up the room, basking every dim corner in a radiant glow.

Mind now vacant and opened up to any passing thoughts wanting to pay a visit to his subconscious, he found himself thinking about how abruptly his brother had left to go and follow the princess to wherever it was she was off to.

He had decided to keep an eye on him from a safe distance to make sure Ink wasn't actively making a fool of himself, only for his assumption about his brother's social capabilities to be confirmed.

....And then they had caught him in the act.

Dream felt his shoulders tighten uncomfortably at the memory, head rapidly shaking away the thought.

Though, it did make him wonder where the couple had gone off to. Heck, Ink hadn't returned for quite some time now. Definitely much longer than it should have taken him to make trivial small talk with (Y/N).

If he hadn't learned his lesson from the last time he attempted to snoop around, he would consider hunting him down to make sure he hadn't been brutally murdered on his way back down the hall.

The temptation was admittedly strong. However, if he had suddenly been jumped, someone surely would have noticed by now.

...Yeah. Ink was a grown man. He could take care of himself.

Mostly.

Dream let out a breath, rolling over and planting his face into his champagne-toned satin pillow, skull melting into the over-glorified bag of feathers.

Angling his feet off of the edge of the bed, he kicked off his boots, still not looking up from the bed. When he was done, he shifted them back over onto the mattress, letting himself succumb to the heavenly comfort of the luxurious bedding.

He inhaled, taking in the rich scent of the fresh, soothing lavender the sheets smelled so similar to, his lids growing heavy and hazy.

It was still the middle of the evening, sure. It was just that Dream hadn't slept all too well the night before, having stayed up so late to discuss the prophecy with the royal family.

He didn't allow himself to sleep in. There was still so much left to be finished and taken care of before he even thought about leaving the cottage.