blankweiss-sb
The things I've never said, like existential dread
A SideBlog I literally made to gift art (Ig, writing too) with
21 posts
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That said, random thoughts I want to share might still end up here, or true drabbles aka 100 words snippets. since I will be chilling on my main account most of the time, lol.
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You might have noticed that I have added an -sb to my name here. This is because this is the sideblog.
I have given in and made a proper blog cause I was sick of not being able to send in asks. My new proper blog hasn't a proper theme yet or is set up but I will be migrating gift and dsmp stuff over to there.
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Twitter never fails to remind me how abhorrent people are.
*sighs*
It drags my mood down , I am going to sleep.
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we’re hosting a fic exchange to celebrate dream and george’s birthdays and you are all invited!
— the minimum word count required is 3k, and the deadline will be november 1st! please see the graphics and the google form for more detailed rules/guidelines :]
— signups are open for the next 4 days and will close at midnight est on the 16th!
💌 signup here!
📬 join the server here!
#*stares*#should I? Like this is a sideblog#<--person acting like they didn't just create a discord account for this#I dunno#blank's thoughts
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Birthday drabble
Okay, so this might play in the same verse as the gift drabble I did for @hiding-in-the-vault
CW: blind Dream, blood and torture mention, Pandora's Vault time, un-beta'd
People were blind, they'd always been. Not literally blind, in most cases, but ...metaphorically, metaphysically, definitely emotionally. How could everyone be so wary of him, Bad mused, yet be so totally dismissive?
" Looking forward to curling up underneath a warm blanket." Antfrost yawned, the leather of his gloves stretched and worn but still steady and sturdy. Etched spells lined the seams.
When Antfrost had won a parkour challenge, Dream had gifted him these gloves with a grin and the boious claim of having bought them of one of the villagers in the village the parkour challenge had been held.
However, the gloves consisted of well-treated warhog hide - not pig hide. How the others had ever swallowed that lie Bad would never understand since villagers wouldn't have been able to access the Nether - or treat the warhog hide with diamond dusted sponges. Or enchant it with Admin-specific spells.
"You sure you're ok with taking my shift?"
Bad forced his lips to move, stretch and part, smile but not too brightly. "Yeah, go get some good rest. Only come back when you're properly rested, you silly muffin." When sharp eyes didn't waver away from Bad's face, he let his smile fall, not quite shatter, just shrink a little. "I don't have anyone waiting for me, after all."
Antfrost winced, cringing away, any suspicion hopefully wiped away and redirected. He kept his silence until they stepped in front of the hissing portal.
"Bad...you good with taking half my shift? I could stay here, you know, keep you company. You...don't actually have to be all alone." Antfrost shifted as his ears folded back and his tail wrapped around his armor covered shin.
Well, Bad didn't want that. Now, how to discourage Antfrost...ah.
"Aww, thank you but all's good." He chuckled and mimicked ruffling the top of Antfrost's head, right between his ears. Antfrost ducked away long before Bad's hand would have made contact.
"See if I care about your feelings again." Despite his parting shot, Antfrost waved and skipped through the portal.
Less than a minute later, the portal screeched and shattered at the press of a button. Now the only two inhabitants of the prison were Bad ...and Dream. Just like Bad had planned.
(Sam was ...out. He hadn't told them were he was going and Bad didn't really want to know. It was a good thing. If he didn't see Sam, it was easier to dismiss the mounting urge to rifle through another forgotten but barred with three locks vault. Nobody would benefit from Bad taking up his Scythe and wielding her to her full extent again.)
Turning on his heel, Bad marched towards the center of the prison, past check-ins, levers and iron bars until the sulfur stench of the lava burned his nostrils. His hand paused on the lever to the bridge and Bad prepared himself mentally. His other hand slipped into his pockets, curving around the rind of the Gapple he smuggled in. Its enchantments zing across Bad's palm.
With a firm breath, he pressed down the lever and the bridge groaned inching forward. Bad hurried to the front, hissing as lava droplets sizzled onto his armour when the lava curtain spluttered and stopped.
His breath hitched.
Had Bad been complaining about the sulfur stench? It was roses and daisies compared to the iron tang in Dream's cell air. Not to mention brown and dark red splattered against void black and crying purple was much more nauseating than the ever-shifting red-orange-yellow.
Dream himself had pressed into the corner opposite to his water hole. Or rather, he'd wrenched himself into the gap between the wall and lectern, somehow, muscles tense and shaking. (Not enough food - or not the right one as molding potatoes languished underneath the droppers. Admins needed way more than potatoes, especially molding one. Keeping up a server took energy, being connected to One took even more. Bad didn't believe the latter was in effect at the moment, or Dream wouldn't be here anymore.)
This was painfully familiar - only with less torture and Dream having been much, much younger.
Dropping to the floor, Bad crossed his legs and hummed. At the first note, Dream froze before a small noise vibrated through his mouth. Bad didn't know the words to the songs he was humming. He was merely humming the song back to its creator.
After humming another of Dream's humming songs back to him and a couple of lullabies, Bad smiled as Dream slipped from his hiding spot and settled against the wall. His smile widened into a grin when Dream tilted his head and Bad opened his mouth-
The mask slipped to the side, revealing just a sliver of Dream's face. It was enough. One milky eye, blood-crusted, stared at Bad's collarbones.
Dream's small smile dealt a fatal blow to Bad's heart.
Bad rearranged things in head - he needed a plan, he couldn't, couldn't, how dare they - took a second and a breath. Gulping down any negativity, he almost cooed. "Heya Dream."
"Hullo Bad, how nice of you to visit me."
Hadn't Bad seen the smile or his eyes or heard the almost crumbling of his voice, those words could have been sharp and cutting with their sardonic edge - or at least be taken as such.
"Is today my birthday or what?"
"In fact, it is."
"O-oh." No matter how humorous Dream's little falter was, laughing was the last thing on Bad's mind. Especially when the tension in Dream's body returned. "Going to give me a birthday present?"
It was so painfully clear that Dream was expecting violence. Bad hated it.
"Indeed, I will." Dream flinched when Bad flipped his dagger open and pulled out the Gapple, carefully cutting the enchanted fruit into pieces. The sound of the weapon slicing through its flesh must be scary or traumatic enough for Dream to begin trembling.
If Bad knew the words to whisper to reassure Dream, he would - but he didn't. He didn't and it was his own fault. No matter what Dream had done - and really, thinking about it, had it been any worse than what other members of the Server had done? Or at least, the punishments here didn't fit the severity of the crime, not when every other member of these lands got off scot-free - he didn't deserve this.
"Hey Dream." Bad shifted until his knee was touching Dream's. Dream almost choked on his own tongue as he tried retreating but only hit a wall. (Don't react.) "Open your mouth, dear one, the sun's coming."
For one second only the lava and the crying obsidian talked, in hisses and screeching - then a long-missed sound echoed through the cell.
Dream's wheezing laugh was lovely to hear, without any malice or taunting staining it.
"Bad, what the fuck, I'm not a little, sick kid anymore! You used that then! Like, seriously?!"
"First off, language, secondly..." Bad reached out and squeezed Dream's four spindly fingers before wrapping them around a slice of the Gapple. "Here's your gift. You've got the rest, too, but I kind of need to feed it to you now. I'm gonna look at the lava now, just tap my hand when you want more."
Settling his hand to Dream's knee, Bad turned away. For quite a while, nothing happened. Dream did absolutely nothing, Until muscles contracted underneath Bad's fingers and he listened to the scraping of Dream's mask against obsidians, small bites as teeth crunched down on an apple, the shuddering sobs and sniffles through Dream's nose while he was choking down a thin Gapple slice.
A finger feathered against Bad's knuckles, and Bad pressed another Gapple slice against it, only for it to be snatched away.
He didn't know how long it took - the cell didn't have a clock - but Bad estimated that Dream used an entire hour to eat one Gapple. Bad's resolve solidified when he turned around and carmine skin edged Dream's eyes. Dream's cheeks were still wet with tears.
"Happy Birthday, Dream."
Dream answered with choked laughter and pressed his knee against Bad's. He even patted the spot next to him and Bad didn't hesitate to slide into it. (Despite the dried blood on the wall, floor and Dream himself.) As soon as Bad settled down, Dream turned and buried his head into Bad's collarbones.
Slowly, slowly Dream dozed off. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered, like it was a secret, like no one else was ever supposed to know.
Bad had plans to make.
And a vault with three locks to unlock and rummage through.
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Although, to be honest, I'm way too impatient regarding art, drawing and painting, to do this challenge justice.
I'd stop before I had even the sketch of everything done
I'm thinking of doing the color wheel challenge...just who would I do for each color?
Orange - Tsunayoshi Sawada from Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Yellow - Yogi from Karneval
Green - Dream
Teal - Luka Couffeine from Miraculous Ladybug
Indigo - Adaman from Pokemon Legends Arceus
violet - Skull de Mort from Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pink - Technoblade
Red - Karma Akebane from Assassination Classroom
Yeah, these seem like good picks.
Maybe I'll have little extra charas in chibi-form too....
Orange - Natsu, maybe chibi reborn and a clam
Yellow - chibi Nai and Gareki, as well as Nyanperowna
Green - Obviously Sapnap and George, maybe Bad
Teal - Adrien, Mari, all their three Kwamis
Indigo - Leafeon, Umbreon, Vaporeon
Violet - Motorbike and his octopus
pink - potato, bell, sword, phil
Red - Koro-sensei and Nagisa
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I'm thinking of doing the color wheel challenge...just who would I do for each color?
Orange - Tsunayoshi Sawada from Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Yellow - Yogi from Karneval
Green - Dream
Teal - Luka Couffeine from Miraculous Ladybug
Indigo - Adaman from Pokemon Legends Arceus
violet - Skull de Mort from Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pink - Technoblade
Red - Karma Akebane from Assassination Classroom
Yeah, these seem like good picks.
Maybe I'll have little extra charas in chibi-form too....
Orange - Natsu, maybe chibi reborn and a clam
Yellow - chibi Nai and Gareki, as well as Nyanperowna
Green - Obviously Sapnap and George, maybe Bad
Teal - Adrien, Mari, all their three Kwamis
Indigo - Leafeon, Umbreon, Vaporeon
Violet - Motorbike and his octopus
pink - potato, bell, sword, phil
Red - Koro-sensei and Nagisa
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I'm sort of mad.
I want to finish the drabbles I have started, maybe start on some sequels (I want to write one for the Gift Drabble, which I should really name, from Bad's view so badly), maybe work on things I promised months ago.
I also have bang pieces I desperately need to do (for another fandom, tho)
You know what my fingers want to write?
An angsty, maybe with a sprinkle of smut, DNF fic inspired by this art on twitter.
I HAVE NOTES. ALready. and from those notes, it could be easily 5K if not 10K. This is longer than my required bang pieces *cries*
#Blank's notes#btw I don't have a twitter for this account#so I can't even go ask if it's okay that I write sth based on this
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I wonder if somebody ever did a Dteam or Manhunters Tarot card deck and how hard that would be, organizational wise, to do in a collaborative format...
aka I want a Manhunters (Dream, Sapnap, George, Sam, Bad, Antfrost) Tarot but I don't want to draw uhhh 22 + 14x4 = 78 cards + 1 back card design, so 79 motives XD
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I'm not going to get into any discourse but some people are just unnecessarily stupid.
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@sappymix1
quick sketch
#female dnf#really quick sketch#sorry it's too late for me to pull out my drawing tablet so I hope you're okay with this
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Gift "Drabble"
For @hiding-in-the-vault
TW: Prison Arc + Post Prison, references to torture and eye removal
Summary: Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.
Or
Dream doesn't escape unscathed – mentally or physically.
The red stone pistons fired, the deep grumble distinctive from the ever present hissing of the lava. Dream didn’t dare lift his head or move his cheeks from the grimy, sticky floor of his cell.
Rule number whatever: Either be on your knees head bowed, or you better not have moved from the position Sir left you in.
Was Dream slightly bitter that even thinking Sir immediately called up an image of Quackity and tides of fear and anger? Yes. Would he show that bitterness? No. (Maybe Quackity would think he’d finally broken Dream but he hadn’t. Dream wasn’t quite broken yet, just brittle and fractured. If – when he got out, he’d just pour gold into all those cracks.)
Faintly, Dream heard it – the rustle of small feathers that could be crushed so very easily, the tapping of fingers against the wooden handle of a tool or weapon and a slight hum, the hum of a song Sap had loved. The lava curtains gurgled – please, red stone, fail, a moment of weakness gave itself a voice – before it fizzled out.
Sir bounced into the cell.
“Hullo, Dreamie, how are you? Comfy?”
Dream knew better than to answer. Quackity didn’t care, he just loved the sound of his voice too much. If Dream was lucky, Quackity would gloat, maybe kick Dream a couple of times and leave. That, Dream could endure, he could endure anything, anything but –
Fingertips stroked along the curve of Dream’s face, the one not pressed against crying obsidian and sticky maroon, and it was only the terrors of existence that prevented Dream from flinching. But nothing could have prevented Dream’s throat from releasing a whine when Quackity gently carded through Dream’s hair, almost petting him like a beloved dog.
“Awww, you’re doing good but being greedy, I see.”
Fuck you. Fuck you, Quackity, Dream thought as his head leaned into the comforting touch Sir was offering. It was his body seeking comfort, not Dream. It was his body being pathetic, wanting his torturer to be gentle. It was his body. Not Dream.
“You can be cute. But that’s not why I’m here, not today, puppy!” Don’t call me that. “I’m giving you a gift, look –“
Quackity burst out in little giggles, giggles Sapnap used to gush about. Sapnap had called them more adorable than a baby piglin. Dream had teased him about that, by that time already missing George pressed against his side and joining in on the fun. Teasing his brother had always been one of Dream’s favorite things and George loved to needle Sapnap, too.
A sharp of burst ripped through Dream’s skull as Quackity’s hand grabbed his hair tightly and pulled Dream up until Dream’s scalp was burning. “Listen to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Two, three seconds more and Quackity let Dream’s head fall, huffing.
“And here I was about to clean you up, wash you, but no. You had to be bad. A bad puppy.” Dream flinched and Quackity’s laugh was more than delighted, echoing between obsidian walls. “Anyway, here you go, you’re going to need this.”
Something cold settled on Dream’s face and – comfort washed over Dream as he realized it was the cold porcelain of a mask, a mask Dream knew quite well. Greedily he sucked in some air and through the stale scent of copper coils and bracken water and burnt out embers, he caught a whiff of earthy flowers.
(“Earthy flowers? Are you serious?” Dream had laughed, pressing his shoulders against Sapnap’s. George had already been snoring, his legs hanging over Sapnap’s lap and his head nuzzling Dream’s stomach.
“Man, you asked me how you were smelling. Earthy flowers. Deal with it, it’s sort of disgusting.” But the tips of Sapnap’s ears had been a brilliant red.
“Someone’s lying~ But that’s ok. I like your hearth embers and George’s bark and petrichor, too.”
“Pe – tri – chor,” Sapnap had mocked. Yet he had relaxed into Dream and – they had slept, together and bonds untorn.)
It was Dream’s mask, not a replica, but his own.
Despite this meaning nothing good, Dream sank into old comfort. The safe feeling was soured by Quackity once again running his hands through Dream’s hair. “Things are going to get exciting,” he crowed, no, that’d be an insult to the death goddess and her harbringers, Quackity quacked. “Better to keep a few things mysterious, right? I’ll be generous and let you rest up.”
Dream didn’t know what Quackity meant until the next day when the pistons fired up and someone swaggered over the bridge. The bars slammed down, Techno grunted as he sprung the trap and it clicked in Dream’s mind.
Time passed.
Sir didn’t enter the prison.
How Techno didn’t realize one tiny but largely important fact was beyond Dream but he couldn’t help being grateful.
How Dream managed to escape with Technoblade was also beyond him.
(Sir had managed to shatter Dream – after Technoblade vanished. Sir had not only dug into all the cracks he’d made but also ensured that not even respawning would ever give back Dream’s sight. There had been a slight, incredibly miniscule chance that Dream could have regained his eye sight but… hard to do that without the vital part of eye sight.
Sir had left Dream cold and raw and – there had been moments.
Dream had even hallucinated at one point, must have imagined trembling hands cleaning him up, a lullaby he hadn’t heard since he was ten being sobbed against his ears and a determined vow being seared against his temple. The voice had sounded like Bad, but Bad hated him, guarded him even, offered suggestions like Dream’s loathing of being alone in the dark to Sir. )
“I refuse. You have done more than enough, he can look after himself now.” The coldness in Philza’s screech was more than biting, was cutting when Technoblade didn’t refute his statement.
Once again Dream’s weakness took over and he wasted a minute on hope, begged Technoblade without the right words or gestures but surely, surely Technoblade picked up on it – “See ya later, nerd, stay safe.”
I’m not seeing anything, settled heavy on Dream’s tongue but – Philza was there, feathers scraping against wooden planks. He must be flaring his wings before refolding them. Rinse and repeat.
It wasn’t pride stopping Dream from saying those words. It was Caution. Philza already was irritated with Dream – Dream, objectively, had harmed the man’s family greatly and in various ways. And in an altercation, there was no world in which Technoblade wouldn’t side with Philza.
So Dream bowed, once, the proper Admin way, and darted off into the forest, barely hearing a sudden intake of breath behind him, probably Philza’s. Technoblade wasn’t an Admin, he wouldn’t have known what Dream’s bow had meant.
They didn��t chase after him, anyways.
That first night Dream almost died five times.
The server refused to reconnect to him – a weak Admin was something no World wanted, vulnerability was undesired – and so Dream had to trust his ears and nose, rather than an innate sense of the World.
Twice the rattling of Skeleton bones was barely enough to get ready for the screeching of arrows flying through the air and aiming directly at Dream’s heart. Muscle memory was, thankfully, enough for Dream to land crits against the Skeletons, even though his own frame didn’t differ much from the Skeletons.
Once a zombie almost ripped into Dream’s leg and would have infected him. Dream was already on the ground, having tripped over a root and landing on a patch of ice that sent him careening through the snow. He’d been contemplating just curling up and sleeping when the zombie fell over him. A kick and crit had taken care of the zombie.
Twice, the environment itself, the World – hadn’t that smarted – had turned against him, giving him no warnings as ravines opened up in front of him. Only hearing the echo of stones crumbling and falling, falling, falling before the unbreakable hit the bottom and shattered into a thousand pieces not even gold could glue back together had warned him.
Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.
That first night ended and his first day in freedom dawned – judging from the birdsong sneaking through the tree leaves and into Dream’s cave.
Dream didn’t have the energy to stand up.
More hallucinations haunted his sleep – if it was sleep. His body felt too heavy, his thoughts too hazy for him to be sleeping but – at one point, the hallucination of Bad took root in his mind. Dream heard Bad coo, felt Bad heave him into a bed that Dream certainly hadn’t made, cried while Bad tucked him and drew covers tight around him.
“Sleep tight, good dreams will arrive, cupcake,” the hallucination’s voice quivered as rough, scarred fingers slipped underneath Dream’s mask and tugged it off. The hallucination wanted to card through Dream’s hair and it did, detangling the knots, casting Dream’s drifty mind back to the days of happiness and – “Shh, Clay. I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”
Dream wailed, his throat giving out on him. All the while, the hallucination kept touching him, gently, like Bad loved him, like Bad was here, like Bad cared.
(Love and care were two different shoes. Surely, Sapnap and George still loved Dream but they had shown that they didn’t care for him.)
(Dream was forgetting something. Or someone. Heat was lancing through his brain, pain a deliberating force on everything that was him. How his mind still had enough force to call upon a hallucination with the ability to mimic the sensation of touch he didn’t know. But there was someone else, an agenda, Dream was forgetting.)
(Clay hated getting sick, not only because he couldn’t play with Pandas but because he couldn’t help demanding attention. To be fair, Bad would always give it to him.
“I’m dying,” Clay sobbed, writhing against the covers Bad had forced him under. “It’s too hot, it hurts, I am dying!”
“Shh, you silly, silly cupcake.” Bad chuckled, gently stroking over Clay’s head. Those fingers were so good, they spanned half his head and… Bad was starting to mindlessly but gently tug at all of Clay’s knots, tutting whenever another appeared in the long locks of Clay’s hair. “You’ll be ok, I’m here.”
Whenever Bad acted like this, Clay could pretend that Bad wasn’t only Pandas’ Dad but also his own, and fierce, fierce love wrecked Clay’s body together with the many illnesses he suffered.
One day, one day Clay would create a server for them, for Bad and Pandas and himself and anyone else he loved. He knew he was strong enough, as were his convictions and dreams.)
Energy trickled back into Dream, day by day. The hallucination stayed, far longer than Dream expected it to, offering comfort and safety and the weakness was too strong. Dream, shamefully, gave in.
Until one day the rustle of wings, the wind whistling through feathers just outside his and his hallucination’s cave broke the spell.
“Mate?”
Not Sir, not Sir at all but –
“Get out.” His hallucination growled and the air pulsed with heat and old power – and there was no way that Dream’s stitched together mind could have replicate Bad’s aura when he was pissed and protecting someone. (Someone, not something, an important distinction.)
“Bad Boy Halo, I –“
“Leave before I make you leave. You offered no help, worse, you rejected sanctuary.”
“I didn’t know.”
Bad snorted and responded. Philza said words as well but – Dream had already lost the thread, his mind fuzzy with realizations and too full, too broken to comprehend anything. Until –
“Had I known he was blind and a baby Admin, he wouldn’t have left my house!” Feathers hit the stone walls. Or did feathers scrape along obsidian, crying in sync with the dripping walls? Sir was back, wasn’t he –
Scarred hands cradled Dream’s cheeks and a pair of leathery wings sneaked around and under Dream’s frame. The hands didn’t move. They just held his face and provided an anchor for his mind.
“Bad…” How to say the things he had to say, how to ask questions, how –
Dream’s head is pressed to a dark throat and his breath hitched. Too often Dream had been in this position whenever the world got too big, or he got too big for the world and it bared its fangs at him. Being settled against the thrum of Bad’s heart hadn’t rightened all the wrongs in the world but it had always – always – made them manageable.
“I’m here, Dream. Don’t you worry.”
Dream believed him and let himself fall into trust.
One more time.
#c!dream#c!badboyhalo#c!quackity#c!philza#c!techno#gift#angst#hurt/minimal comfort?#warning author likes c!Dream and cc!Dream so please don't come in with neg#also warning: author's been tipsy or drunk while writing this in one go#divider was made by riftdancing
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:3:
George was 87 percent sure that Quackity’s shirt was outright dripping with blood. If George dared to get closer, he could have checked – copper was a rather distinct scent, after all, one George only knew too well – but that would mean revealing that he was watching Quackity.
Was watching him strut into the prison with a pristine shirt, shoes gleaming, the white of the shirt practically blinding George for real. Was watching Quackity strutting out of the prison with dark stains ruining his shirt and shoes and a self-satisfied smile.
It couldn’t be Sam’s blood. George had seen the shade of Sam’s blood and it wasn’t the shade Quackity was wearing. Which only left one possibility.
Dream.
Quackity was bleeding Dream in some way, with Sam’s full knowledge. (One day George had watched Sam greet Quackity, Quackity’s wings fluttering and Sam’s head tilted with that stupid gas mask hiding half his face. Quackity had thrown an arm around Sam’s shoulders and Sam had allowed it.)
Yet when George had asked for a visit, Sam had claimed that Dream wasn’t allowed any visitors.
---
Quackity did smell of copper, even though his shirt was black this time, black with shiny spots. His wings froze before relaxing and lowering closer to the ground. “Oh hi there George, not sleeping for once?”
Smiles cut into George’s soul, both Quackity’s wide one and the poor mimicry George put out into the world. (The World shivered, George noticed. He hadn’t noticed the World in so long, It hadn’t let George feel It. That It now did must mean It approved.)
“I was bored. Have anything fun?”
“Oh man, do I?” Quackity brightened and skipped past George. “Come on, Gogy, lemme show you my country!” He threw another grin at George over his shoulders and marched forward.
He really shouldn’t have.
George was going to have duck for dinner and really, the duck was making it too easy.
oh my gosh anon this slays but nothing in the world could have prepared me for opening my inbox to this 😭
#drabble#the pain of a sideblog not being able to send asks v.v#I am going to send in more#I just have to write
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Here you go, your words used in this drabble:
Dream has forgotten how much of a pain the World was. Oh, sure, he never wants to give up his connection to It again, never wants to feel the loss that drives thousands of stakes through his brain with every breath, but to be quite honest? The World can go fuck itself.
It has missed him but It’s so needy now, every bee, every drop of rain, every whisp of fog between swamp trees in the morning wants his attention. Every single part of It wants to be acknowledged, crowds his mind with “Am I good? Are you there?” and Dream’s sick of it.
(They say a World mirrors Its Admin and Dream doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about how needy the World is, how much It yearns to please and be praised for Its efforts. Doesn’t want to think about how far Dream would have gone for a kind word, a gentle hug, or a kiss on the forehead by the time Technoblade was lured into the prison.
Had S-Quackity dropped the torture and traded the knives for light touches, well, Dream doesn’t know if he’d be dead now after giving up his last trump card.)
A jungle sapling stretching towards the light and growing less than a finger length thrums its joy through Dream’s ears and demands attention. It’s excited, bouncing around his head and proud of its progress, boasting that it’s going to be the tallest and strongest tree in the jungle, its sap is going to attract the brightest parrots and –
He bites down on his bottom lip until copper is the only thing he can taste. That tree reminds Dream too much of someone out of reach, someone who’s presence he still hungers for. Dream shudders. A mushroom sprouting up next to his feet evokes the same feeling.
Dream allows himself one more second of – feeling (a bird hatches near the mesa, a cactus forces its way to the surface in the Las Nevadas desert quietly hoping, another mushroom crawls over a still body far away – ) and smiles, smiles baring his teeth.
Dream smiles and hopes he can quieten the World just enough.
WAAAA ;-; Dream also wanting to be praised and acknowledged….. if quackity had tried a more manipulative approach… ;’( the world being needy and reflecting Dream- you’re so based, anon. This is awesome!!!!! Ouugghhhh
Thank you for more fic in my inbox!!!!! This is great, I love it :D !!!!
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He breathes out. But more importantly he breathes in again and the loneliness aches within his lungs.
No flowers rustle within his chest, chatting about the players walking by. No winds whisper into his ears, spinning tales based on every intimate moment they witness underneath them. No rivers and oceans flow through his veins, their quiet depths gossiping about every disturbance.
Dream smiles.
It’s not loneliness – though it’s that too – as much as it’s emptiness expanding into every nook of his being.
To anyone other than an Admin this wouldn’t make sense, probably. That emptiness that’s filling him completely. But…
What he has is the sizzle of lava, the screams of crying obsidian, the warning shriek of red stone bridges –
Ah.
The lava stops dripping, the obsidian cries harder and Dream, Dream is looking up into void eyes.
He still smiles, through the pain, through the emptiness, through the loneliness.
SPEAKING OF WHICH.
Anon and crying and throwing things ahshhdhshshsh
Through the loneliness waaaaaaaaaa
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Another:
The thrill of the escape carried Dream farther than he thought it would. He managed to bury the hurt at Techno’s – Technoblade and Philza’s rejection of his presence. He managed to escape Sapnap – barely, stupid betrayal ensnaring Dream’s limbs with invisible ropes – when he tried to retrieve his armor. He even managed to meet up with Punz, the rush of divine loyalty giving him enough second wind to find a safe space.
If by “safe space” Dream meant the middle of enemy territory, anyway. The little hidden bunker underneath the Community House was right smack among everyone who wanted to kill him.
Did Sapnap remember? Did George? That little bunker had been for the three of them and had withstood fire and bombs and – When Dream crawled into the hidden space, dust irritated his eyes – in a different way than the sun did, after so long of lava and no darkness – and a thick layer of it coated the three beds and spare furniture.
By all means, this was a terrible hiding spot, too close to everything. His wounds wouldn’t thank him for dragging his skin along dirt and dust. And, obviously, neither George nor Sapnap would be here with open arms but –
It was safe and small enough that when the adrenaline finally faded and his bonds to the world snapped open again, no one could hear him scream.
Going from zero to everything was – more than jarring. Scorching in its intensity, ripping him apart from the inside with its force while simultaneously knitting him together. A loop of hurt and more hurt and yet again more hurt as his being reconnected to the world and –
The world wasn’t kind, it screeched its reproach without words as it mercilessly forced the essence of everything to slot into Dream’s being.
By the next morning – the sun told Dream it was rising, the dew drops twinkled a symphony inside his head, skeletons sank back into the earth clattering their own songs – Dream’s muscles and nerves wept in agony, his tears washing away the dust from his cheeks.
Dream was breathing – in and out. And the world was taking its breath from inside of him.
MORE FIC IN MY INBOX POGGGGG
I love this. I am holding it and shaking it and rotating it.
Reconnecting back to the world!! It being painful!!?? That’s awesome. Ohhh Dreamie my Dreamie ;v;
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