#“In their cruel and chaotic world being together is the only thing that brings harmony and equilibrium”

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

What Dream Stands For

What’s a character without motivations? Ideals, things they stand for? Things they want?

Dream is one of the most clearly-evil characters in the SMP, no doubt about it, yet his own justifications for his actions are pretty interesting. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while 

(hence why I wrote more ramblings. You know how I like mindless ramblings that may or may not make any sort of sense)

Dream has said in the past that he stands for certain principles: 

“Justice,” “chaos,” and most interestingly, “peace.”

For someone who has so clearly been the villain of the story for how many arcs now? Justice and peace are some surprisingly good-sounding principles to be fighting for.

I find the contrast between Dream and Tommy’s characters so fascinating because they’re pretty much the opposite of each other:

Dream stands for good intentions but is incredibly manipulative and cruel to achieve his goals. He tries to achieve peace in the least pacifistic way.

Tommy, on the other hand, has his whole brand based around scamming people, robbing, starting wars, stabbing his friends and generally being very chaotic with everyone he interacts with, yet his character is so fundamentally good and compassionate that he always turns out to be the good-guy protagonist anyway.

The thing about Dream is, he isn’t kidding when he says he stands for all those ideals. There’s ample evidence to show that he sticks to them.

Chaos is, well, chaos. Dream is chaotic evil, of course he loves chaos. 

He loves mischief and shenanigans, but gets a bit prickly when people try to establish new countries with rules he doesn’t agree with. 

With Justice, Dream very much operates on an “eye for an eye” basis.

George stole Sapnap’s horse? Put on trial and killed. Sapnap killed said horse trying to get it back? Gets executed too. There, both sides have died and should now be satisfied.

The Disc War started because Tommy and Sapnap got into a fight, and Dream didn’t like that they were fighting so he went to kill them to get them to stop fighting anymore (admittedly a bit counter-intuitive there, Dream).

A bunch of British people are trying to rob people of their blaze rods and start a drug empire that non-Europeans are banished from? Well, surely war is the only way to teach them their place! 

Sapnap killed Niki and Fundy’s fox? Dream shows them the pet house and tells them that Skechers is Sapnap’s beloved pet, then walks away to turn a blind eye. A fox for a fox.

And who could forget Dream’s iconic speech? He wanted white flags, white flags outside their base by tomorrow at dawn. 

He wanted them to surrender before the war even started. He rigged their nation with TNT to get them to surrender. Wilbur, for comparison, rigged Manberg with TNT for the sole purpose of destroying it. Wilbur wasn’t looking for surrender - once Schlatt died, he turned the land into smithereens regardless.

That brings us into the third principle: Peace.

Dream doesn’t seem like the type of person who cares greatly for peace, seeing as he’s the villain who kills everyone, destroys their homes, etc. etc. But I think what Dream means when he says he wants peace is that all that destruction, manipulation and cruelty is the means to an end. 

Think back to an era before Tommy, the era of the Community House. That was the most peaceful the server’s ever been, everybody working together, sharing a humble wheat farm, putting all their supplies in open double chests. There were occasional conflicts like the burning of Ponk’s Lemon Tree or the times where they argued and got into little skirmishes, but there was no outright war on the scale that we’ve seen since.

Dream even mentioned Tommy’s first day on that solemn boat trip to Logstedshire on Exile Day. He recalled Tommy’s first day, where Tommy was banished several thousand blocks out in the cold and dark because he stole, killed George, got put on trial and tried to escape the jail cell, etc. And even after he was exiled, Tommy still resisted, killing himself in the water or getting mauled by polar bears or creepers. Those methods won’t work now that the canon deaths rule is in place, but Tommy’s still resisting.

It was from the very beginning that Tommy was the one to go against Dream, resisted peace in favor of excitement, and the two’s rivalry has continued ever since. Dream told Tommy that he was a bug in his room, an annoyance, a little pest who was the only one to never listen to him. 

Tommy is a morally good character at heart, but his intentions have never been for peace. Tommy challenged the status quo, and Dream’s world was never the same after that. Tommy’s an example of a character who is still good despite actively fighting against “peace and harmony.” Dream is an example of a character who is incredibly evil despite claiming to stand for peace and harmony. And all of this mixes together into shades of gray.

The way I see it (and maybe I’m completely bonkers here, I really have absolutely no idea if any of this this actually makes sense):

Chaos is Dream’s actions in the moment, Justice is Dream’s guiding principle in the process to his end goal, and Peace is his end goal. 

Chaos is the means, peace is the ends, and justice is, well, justice.

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was RAPHAEL, an ANGEL loyal to the cause of the ANGELS. He is said to be IMMORTAL and uses HE/HIM pronouns. In this New Testament he serves as a MEMBER of the VIRTUES. Blessed be his name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

They say that he is intoxicating to be around -- enthralling in the way that he approaches all things, his mere presence instilling in those who are enraptured by it something akin to an almost demented sense of beatific awe. When he was anointed the Virtue of Fortitude, though, it seemed that something more was allotted to him; his healing abilities were amplified to the point where he is able to discern what ails a person, whether it be mentally, physically, or emotionally. If he is wrathful, it is said to be amplified ten-fold and those who have borne witness to the unfortunate occurrences often find it too difficult to recount; since that is the case, they seem to miss the curl at the edge of his lips that whispers of something unsettling. However, if he is in a benevolent mood he is said to be able to take the burdens of the pain away -- being bestowed with his presence becomes a reprieve. This innate ability, paired with his gifts for healing, are why he is largely popular with the mortals of the Holy Land. For this brief period of time, at least.

THE HISTORY.

There was something beautiful to be found within suffering -- the way the tip of the nose flushes red, the way that tears clung to lashes like fresh morning dew, the way that the heart seemed to stutter and skip in tandem with the great heaving breaths that were taken when air seemed to forsake their lungs. As Raphael looked on from his lofty view, he couldn’t help but think of the beauty that there was to be found within suffering. Of course, he knew nothing of it; only the hypotheticals, the chemical reactions it evoked within the brain, how some of it was physical, other such variations were emotional and still others were of the mental variety. God had placed His hand upon His son’s shoulder, the two of them watching on in their gilded kingdom -- enraptured by the agony that the mortals placed on themselves. Raphael never thought to question why God, in all His goodness, would allow such things, no, he was far more fascinated by the lengths they would go in order to avoid it -- or inflict it, if they felt so inclined. What a sweet sigh issued forth from him as he thought of the a million and one ways in which he could aid them in the avoidance, and a million more to make them suffer all the more. He wondered if their tears were as decadent as they seemed, if their cheeks were warmed to the touch when slick with tears. Alas, all he could do was look on and wonder.

What excitement charged through his ichor-laden veins once God allowed him to step foot upon the earth -- how eager he was for the cacophony of agony and suffering to ring in his ears, a more beautiful hymn than that which the choir of angels sung. He looked upon the mortal faces, eager to see unfold the great suffering and tragedy that seemed to cling to them closer than their own shoulders; what a disappointment it was to see something far more tedious paint across their faces. The terror at bearing witness to a celestial soul, the beatific awe that would appear on their faces once they realized that from a creature such as he, there was only the salvation of God to follow. It seemed like something of a cruel joke when any notion of suffering was wiped away as soon as he intoned the words of God and placed his hands upon their frail, fleshy frames. Still, though, he held onto the hope that God would demand of him something more stirring than the healings that he was so frequently told to perform. There were those among the heavenly ranks that were harbingers of death, that made for themselves infamy and curried among the mortals terror and fear; they were the cause of the salted tears that fell upon their cheeks, of the moaning, wailing, and grinding of teeth that were so lauded about. What did he offer but farcical acts that were meant to be displays of God’s favor and love? What did he offer but anecdotes of whimsical performances that only served to gild the name of a self-important God?

The centuries began to bleed into one another, an endless torrent of mediocrity and boredom where nothing of import was required of him except to laud the ways of a creator that was far less intriguing than He painted Himself to be. And still, he watched from his lofty place in the gilded kingdom as they murdered one another, as they rent themselves apart in determination to place themselves upon a throne that was far above their reach. It was then that he began to wonder if he might stir his brothers in much the same manner, if they might be fallible enough to do as the mortals as wont to do; if they might tear themselves apart in the hopes of some inane idea of power, righteousness, and glory. They were none the wiser as he placed a few carefully chosen words in their ear, weaving the idea of revolt into their conversations as a snake might weave through the grass -- slickly, subtly. The flames of his brothers’ anger were easy to flame, the embers long ago planted by their Father’s pride and self-important glory they were all forced to bend a knee to. He all but placed the sword in Michael’s hand, all but ripped his Father from the throne himself. What a satisfying thing it was to have God look him in the eyes and know that He had incurred His own ruin. That ruin just so happened to also be called Raphael.

When the world remade itself into something far greater -- far more chaotic, far more vicious -- he could not help but pause to admire his own handiwork; the sun rose and set in the manner that it did because of him, the earth was painted awash in its vibrant away of colors because of him, and the mortals that now fancied themselves as something powerful were only considered gifted because of him and the mechanisms of his enigmatic mind. But he finds that, with the peace that the world sits on the brink of, there is the threat of mundanity lording over him once more. There will still be the tragedy and suffering that he so loves, but it will not be at the scale that it once was. The mortals will no longer be sharpening their knives to claw at the angels, the demons will no longer goad the mortals. There will soon be no bloodshed, no wails of sorrow and cries of agony for him to listen for -- no, there would only be the gentle sigh of a world at rest and the soft laughter of euphoria pouring in through his window. The thought of falling into the mind-numbing harmony that they so long for is a tragedy that he isn’t interested in. It has been quite some time since he has bothered to dip his hands in blood, whether it be celestial or mortal, but he takes no issue in the thought of it. There was something beautiful, after all, about suffering -- and incredibly intoxicating about knowing that he is the one who inflicts it.

THE CONNECTIONS.

MICHAEL & GABRIEL: The Archangels. They were known as the three Archangels in the old world - famed and venerated. A soldier, a messenger, and a healer. They are brothers in every sense of the word: bickering over the smallest of things, needling one another, but loving one another all the same. Though, as of late, Raphael has noted a rift between them, the root of it lies within their differing loyalties -- though Raphael has always made a note to keep his opinions rather close to the chest, instead belaying any need for honesty by offering his considerations of both sides of whatever arguments may occur. Although, in truth, chasm is a more accurate word to describe it than rift. Before, their arguments would end in jest, but now Raphael has observed that each one seems to drive Michael and Gabriel further and further apart. He does not much mind the fact that they seem to be set upon their differing path -- what intrigues him is how the two others might fracture and decimate themselves from within without one another. Perhaps he is curious to see just how volatile their age-old friendship is, what it might take to weave them together and drive them into unforgivable furies. In truth, there is no end to the immeasurable excitement that he thinks this new age might bring. 

ROMILDA ALTIER: Galatea. From her, he is determined to carve the most intricate corruption so that others might behold its beauty. She came to him of her own free will, chin held high, eyes blazing with poorly disguised contempt for him and his celestial nature. But still, she was determined to make something of the Gift that she had been given, was determined to render the powers that were comparable to that of a lioness into something more gentle in nature -- coaxing it into the nature of a lamb. He would indulge her, of course, would let her think that angelic nature was something much more serene in its nature. But beneath the serene waters is something far more terrifying than even could conjure in her nightmares. Slowly -- carefully -- he seeks to see how that light within her might scorch the earth, might raze what creation has wrought. From her, he will bring forth the beauty that stirs within one a primordial fear, from her he will bring forth machinations that the likes of the long-dead God could never have hoped to bear witness to. 

ABADDON: Blight. It is very rare that he leaves himself unguarded -- but it is just so utterly captivating, witnessing utter helplessness. He had seen it once, a particularly wiry little angel had left his flank open and what was Raphael to do with the opportunity but teach him a lesson he might never forget? And so he had done as any seeking to reinforce the strength of another might do and allowed himself to fall into a frenzy that the poor welp might never forget. In doing so, though, he had left himself exposed to the rather underhanded tactics of Abaddon, brutally stealing from him the opportune moment for tutelage. And, as a result, ensured that the other angel would be softened after being aided in such a manner. It seems that every time they encounter one another, a satisfied little smirk besets her face -- how much longer she’ll be able to wear it, he can’t say. Patience is a particularly potent virtue that he has learned to cultivate and refine until it ends up cutting others like a blade. One day soon, he will be able to hold it against her throat like a knife and watch as she bleeds from how deeply he will inflict it. 

SAMAEL: Parasite. The two of them had been created to contrast one another -- one to highlight God’s benevolence, the other to inflict his wrath when the Creator saw fit. They had been irrevocably tied since their very inception, and had been intended to serve as a means of balancing the tenets of the universe. The two were knotted together, tied by a string of fate that Raphael had tantamount to the shackles that had tethered the monsters within Tartarus. He had the pleasure of watching him fall, watching the great Samael who wielded his power about so blatantly and readily that it oozed from him like fumes from a rotten bog, staining all who dared to draw near to his putrid presence. It has been an eon and a half since then, since he has had the pleasure of watching the cursed creature fall, but still the satisfaction he takes in holding the other’s gaze has not abated. He has borne witness to the undoing of Samael once before -- he will allow the demon to crawl ever-higher, just so he might have the singular joy of being there when he is wrenched from his place of power once again. If he is lucky, this time he might set in motion the condemned creature’s fall himself.

Raphael is portrayed by Ricky Whittle and was written by ROSEY. He is currently OPEN.