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ador3him · 1 year

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Would you please do some dad!quackity that would be literally so cuteeee.

pairing: dad!quackity x fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy! and swearing mentions of abortion

requested? yes by anon!!!

word count: unknown (written on phone)

notes: my first oneshot in ages!!! finally finished my skl year (well next week but im barely gonna go lol) so i can write actual lengthed fics instead of headcannons :)) should I make this a series?? bc this is like before dad quackity!!!

y/n was in shock, the 2 blue lines that she dreaded were in front of her. She was scared, terrified. What the fuck was she meant to do? How was she meant to tell Alex? Would he be mad? Try and get her to abort it?

"Mi amor? Did you fall into the toilet?" Quackity's voice was muffled from the closed door.

"Just a second, babe!" She called as she wrapped the little stick in tissue and shoved it into her pocket. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands. "Finally, we are going to be late for dinner," He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as they left their apartment.

The ride to there was good, she almost forgot about the stick that was burning a hole in her pocket. They were laughing and singing along to Quackity's cringy music choices. It was their 1 and a half year anniversary. 1 and a half years, and this happened. Shit.

The food was great, but y/n barely touched hers. She pushed around her chips with her fork, sighing softly. "Mi amor? What's wrong? Do you not like your food? Would you like mine?" Quackity questioned as he lifted her chin up with his finger. Tears welded up in her eyes, lip quivered. "I am sorry, I should've been more careful," She rushed out, tears fell from her eyes. "What? What happened, y/n?" he wiped her tears off her face.

y/n pulled the tissue covered stick and handed it to him. "I'm sorry," she kept whispering to mostly herself. Quackity removed the tissue to reveal it. The positive pregnancy test.

"I am going to be a dad?" he whispered. "I am going to have a fucking kid?" he beamed and looked up to y/n. "We are going to be parents!" he got up from his seat and kissed y/n, people around them looked their way clearly annoyed by the disturbance. Fuck them, Quackitys going to be a father.

#mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fanfic #mcyt angst #mcyt imagine #dsmp x gn reader #mcyt fic #mcyt x reader #dsmp quackity #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #dream mcyt #mcyt headcanons #mcyt #dsmp lore #dsmp tommy #dsmp fic #dsmp imagine #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x reader

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imaginethat0327 · 6 months

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When your beta is actually potentially a Watcher and constantly pushes you to write things angstier and angstier XD -Imagine

#hermitcraft #watcher lore #mcyt fanfiction #writing #beta readers #This is honestly one of the big reasons that Rescue Fire is the way it is #Livie's over my shoulder like this all the time #They actually just did it today when working on chapter 53 #my posts #rescue fire #rescue fire au

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draventhedemon · 2 years

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I'm gonna write 1 quick fluff

CC! Wilbur X y/n

(I promise the dream thing will be out soon it's just I keep on adding more on to it and it's like ten paragraphs long and I'm not even done with it)

If Y/n and Wilbur had a kid together I guarantee that Wilbur would tell the kid as bedtime stories the origin of L'manburg... Y'know because y'all are demented 😂

It would go like this.

"Tommy then said he would trade his two discs, the most IMPORTANT thing to him and Dream. For L'manburgs Independence" and as you walk in and hear him you join in and begin to go into the Pogtopia war.

"Then Your dad left the crowd and went to a hidden room,". Wilbur remembers his line like it was yesterday and you explain your point of view with fighting Technoblade and his two withers.

"then suddenly Philza, your godfather, joined the game and opened up a whole new can of worms but let's just save that for tomorrow." You say as you kiss Wilbur and your kids foreheads and head off to bed.

#dream smp x reader #dream smp #dsmp x y/n #dsmp #dsmp wilbur #dsmp wilbur soot #wilbur fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur #wilbur x reader #mcyt wilbur #wilbur dream smp #wilbur dsmp #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot dream smp #wilbur lore #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fluff

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minecraftbookshelf · 1 year

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I'm writing Life Series Fanfiction now apparently

It's going to be a series of one chapter fics, not a single, multi-chapter.

A collection of stream-of-conciousness ficlets from varying povs, set at the end of each session.

#life series #trafficblr #mcyt #fanfiction #rain rambles #zombiecleo #skizzleman #pearlescentmoon #inthelittlewood #smajor1995 #smallishbeans #watcher grian #lore #the lore hit hard #none can escape the hourglass keeper #hourglass series #limited life smp

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sccoobydoobers · 1 year

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Hyria is so fascinating to me… Like, she's the best friend of THE Lady Irene. As in the original one. She wasn't even reincarnated because really she spent SO. MANY. minutes of her life in the Irene dimension, pleading, begging her best friend to not basically kill herself.

(Most likely one of her last friends left, with Irene leaving there was no hope for her.)

Hyria spent so long in there that when she came back the trees in her sacred forest were hundreds of years old, that everyone she knew was dead. And for what? For a friend who couldn't even change her mind? For friend who instead would be living on in a new form, unaware of all the significance she had to the world.

So she settles, in the maybe 20-30 years she spends out the human world, Hyria gives birth to child along the way. She was there for that child so infrequently, but so often enough for Lucinda to know she had a mother (more importantly, that she could always be found) .

More than that, she would have even had to learn a whole new language of the world to stay there, to live on for Irene's sake.

She had to know and learn enough of a culture that she didn't grow up in, that constantly deifies and overlooks ALL of her friends, so she didn't stick out. so she would have the information she needed to roam the world as she wanted (how little she did).

And then. And then she returns forest. The forest that grew in her absence, who still loves her the same, who's seeds were hand sown by her, thousands of years ago and full of hope. Hyria has enough of a heart to let her daughter find her way in, but never for anyone else to find a way out.

(except for one. one lonely heart who's the brother of the new Esmund, shiny and new as a shadow in the dirt, in that second she saw him, Hyria knew he was the one)

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nefkyo · 1 year

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Writing In The Sand

a c!TNTduo/quackbur fic (and my first official fanfic ever) where c!Wilbur meets c!Quackity before the ending of their S1 lore, but things don't go according to plan. At all.

I don't know how tagging works, but this fic contains:

Spoilers for c!Quackity's an c!Wilbur lore finale, mentions of alcohol, hungover antics, miscommunication?, I don't have it in me to write smut rn but there is pre-marital kissing, fluff but also angst, I'm still not sure if I want a sad or happy ending so don't count on it, a single mention of c!Tommy's lore and overall a lot of flashbacks

Chapter 1 (1/?)

Wilbur stirs awake, head bobbed to the side, horrible weights crushing the sides of his temples. He shifts onto a bed that is too luscious to recognize as his own. The velvet blankets underneath him are too light to be the ones you'd use in a warm house in the middle of the snow.

He didn't go home. He stayed. Fuck.

He sits up on his elbows and pinches his eyebrows, and realizes his glasses are missing. He snaps his head around, feeling the bedsheets in the relative darkness. The only light seems to be coming from curtains that were left a single clumsy ray of light filter in the room. Which was huge. As was the bed. And the window. Fuuuuck.

His fingers wrapped around something new. They were definitely not his glasses. It was something light and nimble, soft but not as much as the stuffing of a pillow, and it seemed to move on its own. Whatever it was attached to also shifted and made an almost human noise that resembled a grumble of discomfort, and Wilbur realized he was holding Quackity's tail. And his other hand was resting clumsily on a wing.

Quackity. Quackity was sleeping next to him.

FFFUUUUUUUCK.

He basically leapt off the bed. His heart and his brain were running two, maybe three marathons at once. What his he doing there? What is he doing here? And what now, should he wake him up? No, he couldn't. Not yet, at least. For some reason, he felt he needed to see him first. Was it out of spite? Out of pride? ...Affection?

Flashes of images from the night before were already seeping in. Sand being strangely cold in his fist. A pile of empty glasses, ice melting slowly inside. Elaborate drinks and straight vodka. Quackity's eyes glinting up at him before both tastes blend in his mouth.

As he staggered towards the drawn curtains, he bumped into his own shoes. He also realized the lower half of his body was still clothed, socks included. He checked his pockets and sure enough, his glasses were tucked in there, miraculously intact. He opened the temple tips and placed them on his head.

He peeked out behind the curtain. He wasn't afraid of heights, his father basically uprooted the fear out of him, but holy shit they were high up. He could see all of Las Nevadas from there. The sky over the sandy hills and still dormant city was grey. It must've been midday already.

From the window, he spots the lavish bar he found Quackity in some ridiculous time at night. He hadn't drank anything yet, just kept picking at a plate of olives with a toothpick. Which he threatened him with as he sat down two seats away from him.

He turned around, hand slowly pulling back the curtain just enough. And he looked out in awe.

Quackity was barely more dressed than him, resting on his side. His right arm was drooped over his head, on which he was shocked not to find the infamous beanie. He spotted it on the floor, right below his flabby left hand. And his wings, oh my god, his wings were splayed out, hanging with some sort of grace over his body. It almost seemed his left wing was shielding him from the light like a veil of protection.

He now remembers the dancing. They were enough drinks and chatter in that Quackity had stopped holding everything like it could double as a weapon, and had decided to take him to the lounges a few steps from the bar, holding a bottle of gin and two glasses in the same hand. The whole place was empty except for the two of them, and they sat on these velvet couches next to a jukebox. "You want to pick something? Go ahead." Quackity asked him, sat on the couch in front of him. "Hm, I dunno." he replied, realizing he'd been staring at it. "It feels kind of weird to look at music discs that hold no meaning for the first time in a while, doesn't it?" he chuckled, and strangely enough, Quackity did as well. He stood up and picked a disc himself. He doesn't remember what the song was, maybe he was more focused on watching Quackity miraculously untense. It was gradual enough you couldn't tell he was very into it at first, but at some point he just let loose. It reminded him of Niki's birthday party, except there was no party to entertain. It was just the two of them. He remembers Quackity pulling him in to dance as well, and the song shifting to something softer that brought his hands to his waist, and Quackity's on his shoulders. It was intimate. It was pretty.

Wilbur snapped out of it, realizing he might've woken up if he kept shining light on him. A thought he hoped his hungover mind would've repressed for just one more minute. "Today is the day." he whispered to himself. He sighed and let go of the curtain.

Guided by what he had memorized of his surroundings he came across his sweater, discarded carelessly on a chair, then his shirt at the foot of the bed. Both reeked of alcohol, but so did he, and it's not like he knew his way around wherever he was enough to find a washing machine. He did, however, find the bathroom.

He squinted his eyes at the flash of the light above, and barely cared to notice how immaculate the whole place was. He held onto the marble bowl of the sink with both hands and looked in the mirror: saying he looked more dead than he already was would've been an understatement. He washed himself up as best as he could and drank so, so much tap water.

As he was about to close the door, he noticed a 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the doorknob. He looked up and noticed a golden plate with the number 801. He was in the hotel! And it was as expensive as it looked from the outside, judging by the tidiness and faint smell of cologne permeating the hall. Wilbur prayed he had any money left in his coat, wherever he'd lost it, and also to find a spare key downstairs when the door ungracefully slipped out of his grip and locked him out. (Quackity definitely had the original somewhere on his person, but the chances of waking him up were too high.)

He took the elevator down to the ground floor ("holy shit, it goes up to 17?!") and reached an immense reception. Initially, he was surprised to see people already awake, until he noticed they were all employees. All smiling, dressed in pristine uniforms, carrying serviette trays, luggage and cleaning products. Not an actual customer in sight. It only came to him as he was reaching the front desk that he was also the only human in sight. Behind the desk was something green and slick, shaped like a man with a wide smile, who immediately met his eyes and greeted him with a half-screamed "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg!", almost giving him a heart attack.

Now he remembers why he was never the one to order anything at the bar. Because the bartender - who looked exactly like the receptionist, by the way - was a tall slimey abomination who only responded to Quackity's requests. When he asked about it, Quackity said something about "an experiment" and being short on staff. And people in Las Nevadas in general. He does remember Quackity drunkenly telling one "And start listening to the customers too, goddamn it! He's been here this whole time and I had to order and do everything for both!"

"Y-Yes, uhm, good afternoon." Wilbur answered, clearing his throat as he glanced up at the huge metal clock. Sure enough, it was 12:39 PM. "Lunch will be served in approximately 21 minutes, Mr. Soot." the receptionist said without even looking at the clock. "N-no... That's not what I was looking for..." "Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Soot?" he responded without missing a beat. Wilbur placed his hands on the mahogany counter, which he could almost see his own reflection in, and tentatively asked "See, I seem to have lost my coat somewhere... It's a brown--" "Ah! Not to worry Mr. Soot, it's right here!" the receptionist exclaimed again. And without ever breaking eye contact, he reached in a compartment underneath the counter and pulled out his jacket, neatly folded inside a plastic wrapping and, even more surprisingly, clean. "You dropped it as you and Quackity from Las Nevadas were making your way up the stairs!"

"We took the stairs?" he asked mindlessly as he discretely checked his coat's pockets (no, not a sign of cash).

"Sure did! As you came in last night, you said you needed to steady your legs because you couldn't feel them, so Mr Quackity from Las Nevadas helped you walk until you reached the 3rd floor, where you shouted 'I am NOT walking up 7 more bloody flights of stairs, Big Q!' and finally took the elevator!"

Wilbur didn't know if he was cringing at the receptionist's horrible impression of a British accent or his retelling of his drunk antics. "...Right, uhm... So, I also came down to ask--" "Would you like some water and aspirins? Still on Mr. Quackity's tab, not to worry!" the man whispered with a ridiculously forced wink, probably an attempt to be friendly. So he's paying for everything and NOTHING, since he owns the place. Wilbur nodded, and as the receptionist finally broke eye contact with him to reach into the mini fridge behind him, he asked "Do you also have, uhm... A spare room key?" and watched in horror as the receptionist completely turned his head to face him like an owl. "Of course! Room 801, was it? I have it right here!"

After the nearly traumatic experience at the reception, Wilbur rushed back to the room and opened the door carefully. More light was seeping into the room by the minute. Quackity was now sleeping on his back, almost completely splayed on the bed. Again, Wilbur had to tell himself to focus. He poured himself a glass of water with an aspirin from the expensive bottle, then placed another with the same fizzling medicine on Quackity's nightstand. He scavenged for the man's missing clothing pieces and folded them as best as he could, sometimes looking back at him. He didn't have much time, but he still decided to leave a note. He consistently cursed himself under his breath as he struggled to write coherent sentences on the back of a hotel visiting card. He settled on the message and put it against the glass.

Alright, time to go.

He glanced down at Quackity. His relaxed face, with his lips slightly ajar. And his hair, a complete mess. He remembers running his hands through it. Very silky.

Start moving. You have to go.

And a vision came to him, of how they helped unbutton each other's shirts and traced lines over the scars and stitches. And how how beautiful it was that someone who had just as much history on his body knew exactly how to touch them, caress them, kiss them. And--

He wouldn't want you to stay anyway.

Someone knocked at the door. Wilbur rushed to open it, and sure enough, it was another one of those slimy things, this time in a ridiculous maid outfit. "Good afternoon, Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg! I am here to clean the room!" the maid announced way too loudly, and Wilbur shushed it. "Mr Quackity is still sleeping. Let him wake up on his own." he whispered, and the maid simply answered "Okay Mr Soot." with a surprisingly soft voice. Wilbur closed the door behind them slowly. Knowing he had no reason to open it again left a bitter taste in his mouth. The maid asked "Where are you going by yourself, Mr Soot?", to which he simply responded "Home" before disappearing down the stairs.

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp lore #c!wilbur lore finale #c!quackity #c!quackbur #c!tntduo #las nevadas finale #it's the first time I write official fanfiction so bare with me #fanfiction #tntduo #tntblr #tntduo fanfic #WITS writing in the sand #nefkyo can write

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klyrra · 1 year

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//dsmp lore

headcanon for artists and writers.

since tubbo is sick, lets headcanon c!Tubbo being sick because he exposed to the radiation from the nukes for too long

#tubbo #tommyinnit #dream smp #ctubbo #dsmp lore #mcyt #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanart #mcyt fanfiction

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imagines-babes · 1 year

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El Tango De Roxanne(Dsmp)

Helloo, how are you doing everyone. Today story started off one way with an idea I had but a TikTok I saw by @_theconfusedraccoon_ . It’s one of the most viewed videos.They had a cool idea so I combined them both. Also should I write like a qsmp story. If I were would you mind being a co-parent with someone or being a single parent? Anyways today song is, ‘El Tango De Roxanne,’ by Jose Feliciano, Ewan McGregor, and Jacek Koman. (Ps the other song that influenced the beginning half was Soy el Unico) I hope you enjoy.

Others Masterlist

**************

It's nice to feel important to someone. Being their go-to. Or their favorite person. Making them feel nice. Knowing every little thing about them. Hanging out with each other. Never leaving their side.

But there is always a one-sided love. Many feel that way. Maybe I am on that side. Maybe I'm on that side of only giving love and never receiving it. I would always have my hopes up but slowly finds out they give their love to one another. His love isn't for me. How he says the word. It's not real. I prayed that it is real. It's not. That is the problem with him and me. I mean it every time. He just says it because that's what I want to hear.

As much as I want to hear it. And hear the truth. He wasn't gonna give it to me.

I tried to brush it off but enough is enough. After dealing with him, Wilbur, Schlatt, Karl, and Sapnap. They were his priority. Even someone as new as Slimecicle. At the prison, I stood inside as I'm one of the guards while Sam was taking a break. Well, more like I put something in his drink for him to sleep. And Bad was with skeppy so he wasn't the main problem. Walking toward his cell. Pulling the lever down to see the lava fall only to see a figure in the cell. Going over to the side of the panel turning off the camera and putting everything in a chest but only bringing pearls. I threw a pearl into the cell as I stared at him. The scars on his body dried blood. His mask with a crack. 'What do you want y/n?'

The alarm was ringing. Saying HE has escaped from prison. Everyone started to rush to the jail. Waiting for his escape but he is nowhere to be seen. Quackity left as soon as we went to Las Nevada to see where was everyone. It was empty. Till the front of the casino was Dream looking at the casino and then at him. 'Quackity,' he only stared, 'it's been a long time hasn't it?' Who am I kidding you were torturing me every day in that jail cell. Now I'm back to get my revenge.' He slowly brought out an axe. 'But we are missing someone don't you think,' giving a smirk and going back to one of the pillars bringing out someone with a bag over their head. 'The lover of yours,' he brought me down to my knees. ‘Quite easy to catch just stood here waiting for you to come home.' dream kneel to me as he put the blade up to my throat. 'Now it's your decision, good old friend,' his head turned back to quackity. 'Choose. That all you have to do is choose.' Quackity eyebrows furrowed, 'Choose what?' Oblivious he was. 'Choose, your lover or this country. Choose one and I will leave. If you this country I will leave this alone but take y/n with me. If you choose y/n, this country will die in vain. Blown up with TNT. Now you have to choose.' All Quackity did was stare between me on my knees and then look around his country. He looked down at the floor then at Dream. 'I want you to leave this place and never come back. Never step foot in my country. Again.' He never looked at me once. Dream brought me up as we both walked. Walked out of his country. I didn't look back at him. Not once.

Once they were out of his vision and in a secret place. Dream and Y/n took off the mask and bag covering their face. To only see Dream holding the bag. Y/n giving him his mask. 'He never truly cared for me,' Y/n stared out a window to see the lights of the sign. 'But you already knew what he would choose Haven't you?' He walks over to their side and nods. 'I needed confirmation if I was true I would rather know he doesn't care than just be hurt in the relationship. Thank you for helping Dream.' He gives a nod, 'Thanks for getting me out but Now it's Revenge for everyone that has tortured me.'

#x y/n #twitchstreamer #fanfic #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #dreamsmp #dreamteam #c!quackity #c!dsmp #c!dream #c!y/n #dsmp dream #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp lore #quackity #dsmp x reader #dsmp au #awesamdude

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genevawren38 · 9 months

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A Drop of Water in an Endless Sea

✨MCYT Fic Fight 2023, Team Phantom👻

✨For whispering_rozy

✨q!Charlie Slimecicle & JuanaFlippa

✨3.9k W.C.

✨q!Charlie Slimecicle-centric

✨QSMP Lore Retell

✨Dust in the Wind by Kansas

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ador3him · 1 year

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reader who loves physical affection (reader x dream) -🌟

pairing: dream x gn!reader

warnings: swearing

requested? yes by 🌟 anon my fav <33

word count: 0.1k

a/n: My cat is sitting with me while I write this, so he says hi!!!

He would love having an affectionate partner!

I feel like he would always have some contact with you.

Whether it is like his hand on your leg, or fully laying on you- it wouldn’t matter.

KISSES

CONSTANT KISSES. On your cheek, lips, nose, knuckles, stomach, neck (not in a nsfw way shame on you)

He loves to just cuddle, like every morning he would wake you up to cuddle him back to sleep. (You aren’t complaining though)

SITTING WITH HIM WHILE HE IS IN HIS OFFICE

You are either on his lap.

Or sitting beside him with your hand on his knee or something.

If hes in the kitchen cooking youd stand behind him and hug him from behind.

CONSTANTLY CUDDLING WHILE WATCHING MOVIES.

George and sapnap HATE IT LOL

They call him cringe for being a simp/j

They are just jealous

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sneefsnorf · 2 years

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i wrote a tntduo fic! oneshot, 1454 words :)

summary: “I-I’m going somewhere, Quackity, somewhere far away,” he continues before Quackity can say anything else. “I’ve made too many mistakes. I need to leave, for everyone’s sake. But I couldn’t do that without… without saying sorry.” One word. Sorry. That single word is like the strike of a pickaxe, plunging directly through every single emotion Quackity has ever felt about this, his rival, his dearest friend, his greatest enemy. --- Quackity is present at Las Nevadas. Wilbur gives his final apology. And then they part ways. Or I wrote tntduo with lots of homoerotic tension just as God intended.

if you like this, please reblog. it's the best way to support me and share my writing.

#tntduo #tntblr #dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmp fanfic #tntduo fanfic #mcyt #mcytblr #dsmp lore #wilbur soot #quackity #quackbur #wilbur soot fanfiction #quackity fanfiction

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xxvextoriumxx · 2 years

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ALL DSMP DUOS (so far) COMPILED ONTO ON G SLIDE

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karlnapity · 2 years

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And That's How I Learned How to Survive

(Read on AO3 here!)

Sapnap likes to think he’s good at handling things. Sure, things maybe haven’t been the best they could be, and maybe he’s lost a good few people, and maybe he’s half sure he’s running on nothing but adrenaline at this point, but that’s alright, and he’s handling it fine.

There’s something in him that knows, he’s sure, that he’s not doing as well as he thinks he is, but he has neither the time nor the energy to confront that for now.

For now, the focus is Kinoko.

He loves it there. He would spend all his time there, if he could. He’s not sure why Karl decided to build it, but it’s just the escape they need from the constant stress of the SMP, a way to run away from everything else.

(He’s never considered himself someone who runs away, but a lot of people have been changing lately.)

Building is distracting, something to keep his focus away from bigger issues. Helping George and Bad and Karl and Foolish place blocks keeps everything in check, keeps him away from chewing his lips raw and biting his nails enough to bleed.

And besides, when he isn’t building he’s helping everyone else. Helping George to stay distracted, helping Foolish with whatever he needs, comforting Karl when he needs it.

(He knows, logically, they can take care of themselves, but he’s already lost one person from lack of care, and he’s not going to let them out of his sight.)

They’re struggling so much more than him. Karl has been forgetful, lately, and Quackity’s been gone for so long, and he can’t pretend to understand what’s happening with either of them, and he tries not to let the anxiety creep up his spine, because the last time he let someone hide something from him it went so, so wrong.

But they won’t hurt him, he knows they wouldn’t ever hurt him, so he shoves it aside and lets them come and go as they please and waits, desperately most nights, for them to come home. He just wishes they’d talk to him.

Quackity’s been gone for months, now, and he doesn’t know where he is. When he walked around, when he asked Sam, all he got was that they were working on a project. And then, when he asked what it was, he got nothing but vacant smiles and changed subjects.

So he heads back to Kinoko Kingdom, where Karl is waiting for him, or so he hopes. When he gets there and heads inside, he’s nowhere to be found, however, and it doesn’t take long for the anxiety start to build, for his palms to get all sweaty, for him to start fidgeting as he wanders the different builds and hopes he sees someone, but there’s no one there, and he starts to panic, for real this time.

He is so fucking tired of being alone.

He sits at the base of a tree, ducks his head, and screams into a closed fist to muffle the sound.

He’s not quite sure when he starts to cry. He might be embarrassed if there was anyone here to see, but then again he can’t quite pretend there isn’t a part of him that wants to be seen, if that’s the price for comfort.

He’s just so damn tired of things going wrong. He just wants his friends back. He just wants his people back. He just wants things to be the way they were, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending they ever will be again.

And that’s a painful thought.

He hates the lights of Kinoko on nights like these. He hates the way they glitter like the people he used to have. It feels like they’re mocking him.

Why did Karl make such a cheerful nation? Was he just playing pretend? Was he wishing?

He wonders if Karl even knows it’s gone so wrong. Maybe he would, if they ever talked at all.

He misses his people.

He wishes there was someone he could blame. He wants to blame each and every one of them, but he knows that’s not fair, or at least not most of the time.

(The only one he doesn’t want to blame is the very one who deserves it. He still wants to pretend it could be salvaged.)

And in a moment of impulse he grabs a string of lights and pulls it down. The glass bulbs shatter on the ground, and it feels right. He snorts. He’s not quite sure why he finds it funny.

And as the light fades, so too does any sense of humor. In the first few months, when he wasn’t quite sure when and where things had gone oh so very wrong, when he still wasn’t sure what to make of his best friend in a jail cell, he was scared of this sort of destruction.

Because if he’d gone so very wrong, what was to say Sapnap wouldn’t be joining him? What if he was just as crooked, himself?

He knows better, now. Whatever went so fucking broken, it’s not anything he shares. Even so, he doesn’t want to destroy shit. There’s no point tempting fate.

He feels a burst of shame, and kicks the string. He stands and glass crunches under his feet as he makes his way up to his room.

There was so much wonder in the beginning of Kinoko. When they were decorating and it felt right, when it felt hopeful, when he was lost in the joy of building instead of the opposite.

When it still felt like things were going up.

He wonders if there’s such a thing as fate. (Dream believed in it, couldn’t be swayed.)

He never did. Now he wonders if he fucked up enough to be cursed forever.

If that’s the case, he hopes it will spare his people. If there’s something he does know, it’s that he messed up before, and he will not again. He will not abandon his people. He will not let them get broken.

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