#dream smp fic

[hellothereimaloser]

veryy choppy first try animation for SIRENNN AAAA ahsash

EDIT: THANK U SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT U GUYS <3

[bugflies00]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, they both get one !, Post-TommyInnit's Exile Arc on the Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), ft. tommyinnit's frequent and personal use of metaphors for any kind of emotional vulnerability, vague flower symbolism Summary:

“The thing is, he was nice sometimes.”

Tommy was still looking resolutely at the window and away from Wilbur.

“It felt like he could’ve been my friend. Like he was my friend. Some days I still think he is.”

Wilbur felt like if he breathed too loudly, he would break something, something fragile. As if Tommy would shrivel up like a poppy flower in October at the slightest prod, disintegrating into dust.

“He had rules. Lots of rules. Told me all about how much better I would be if I followed them, how it was for my own good, because he was my friend.”

Tommy’s nails were digging into his hands. A long time ago, in an overgrown marsh in the summer, under another flag, Wilbur would have gently pulled his hands away to make him stop.

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just another "c!wilbur finds out about exile" fic cause i live on them <3 title from eight by sleeping at last

CHARACTERS NOT CCs

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Hi guysss first official fic....the bugflies00 ao3 arc commences.... Hope you like it yippee 

[tjodity]

A short Fundy and Schlatt fic I made set shortly after the elections.

[painless-innit-colourful]

sometimes researching for dsmp posts/fics is reading 1800s medical journals on treating frostbite and hypothermia and sometimes it's watching old vods to figure out where x building was in comparison to the crater that's there currently and sometimes it's double-checking master oogway is a kung fu panda character.

[residenthesitant]

hey what if i wrote a passover fic

Title: Manna from Heaven Warnings: None Rating: Gen Relationships: Married Tubbo/Ranboo, Tubbo & Everyone Characters: Tubbo, Ranboo, Techno, Michael B, Foolish, assorted others Tags: Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Jewish Holidays, Pesach | Passover, Tubbo-Centric, Found Family Summary: One of the perks of having a rich husband, in Tubbo’s opinion, is getting to send out the fanciest, most over-the-top invitations for what is, essentially, a small dinner for friends and family. The size of the dinner does not matter. The amount of invitations being set out does not matter. The fact that Tubbo can commission a calligrapher to make ten overly-decorated and horrendously fancy cards to invite people to his home is what matters.

You are cordially invited to the Underscore-Beloved’s home on Friday at sundown for Passover. Contact Tubbo or Ranboo to RSVP.

Oh, gods.

Tubbo’s never hosted a seder before.

i wrote the world's most self-indulgent passover fic in the world for @mcyt-passover-event! read it on ao3 <333333

[chrysalizzm]

on killing butterflies (for @lookinghalfacorpse)

x

phil watches, sometimes, fingers laced under his chin and elbows braced on the sill, as dream holds out his hands and laughs through the cloud of colors that smothers him. even though dream doesn’t need the constant surveillance anymore, at least this pair of eyes is one he doesn’t mind showing his back to, even if it’s off-putting at times. techno made his opinion on the butterflies clear; phil’s centuries older than him and has insect-eaters for company. not that dream would begrudge phil’s beloved flock a snack, but the proximity between chats is a little worrying at times. 

“they’re lovely, mate,” phil offers once, shooing a curious crow away from the horde with a searching look.

dream hums. “they are,” he replies, emptying his voice deliberately, because: this isn’t a matter of loveliness, or even of preference. his butterflies carry his messages and watch his server. their beauty is one that predicates survival, blending into thickets and splaying owl-faced among the branches. though he may not have chosen them, they’re his now, and they folded down into his prisoner’s garb, his pools of blood, his oversized netherite chestplate. they melted down sam’s body for him. 

phil’s eyeing him again, feathers rustling against the cold, like he knows what he’s thinking. dream lets a bright green butterfly crawl imperiously all over his face and bolts his mouth against his smile. 

[moondragon618]

Hello everyone I've taken one of my favorite hurt/comfort tropes and made it Fucked Up :)

Summary:

When Dream finally finds Tommy, he's in the very top level of Tubbo's old house, curled up and asleep in the corner of a tiny little hidey-hole of a room he must have made, hardly more than an obsidian box- certainly an interesting choice of material, even if it was most likely just for the extra protection.

He can't help but feel a slight bitterness toward the sight in front of him. It's clear Tommy has chosen to hide here because of the comfort and familiarity it brings, even after his supposed "best friend" has proven time and time again that he doesn't actually care.

Not that it even really matters anyway, because Dream is here, and that useless pawn isn’t. And he hasn’t been, considering Dream has barely even seen him around Tommy since he got out of prison.

If anything, Tommy has been spending more time with Dream than anyone else lately.

Whether he’s aware of it or not. :)

~ :) ~

Or Dream pays Tommy a little late night visit and comforts him after he has a nightmare :)

[smp-live]

"Hey, Wil."

The few candles scattered around the shrine flickered in the breeze, their unsteady light sending shadows dancing across the lapis and gold. Moonlight from the near-full moon almost drowned them out, bright enough to read by and casting the potion bottles resting upon their stands in a silvery sheen.

Tommy stood, head bowed, with his hands stuffed in his jeans' pockets. They'd been shaking, earlier. Now they held still.

"Day, what, fifty-two, now? Something like that. Not like it fucking matters, does it." He kicked at a stray pebble. It scattered away, towards L'Manberg. "I won't be coming back here, anymore. Sorry. For leaving you alone."

"But I guess this was more for me than for you. 'S not like you can hear me, huh? Because you fuckin' left. That was smart of you. To get out while you still could."

"Don't worry. I don't blame you. Not anymore. We'll call it even, 'kay? You left me, and now I'm leaving you." He shuffled closer to the shrine with a weak smile that was quick to die, a light shrouded by a veil.

"I'm dying tomorrow, Wil," he said, and his voice cracked even though he'd already grown used to the thought. "I'm not- Fuck." And he let himself slide down to sit with his back resting against the lapis. It was cool, in the autumn evening air. Soon there would be snow on the ground.

And he wouldn't get to see it.

"It's not fucking fair," Tommy said, suddenly angry. He was still so, so angry. "It's not fucking fair! Why did it have to be us? Why couldn't we have just been normal? Been happy?"

"I just wanted to live, man. To not, I dunno, feel like this all of the time. I was so scared, Wil. I don't- And I'm not, anymore. And I thought that was a good thing, but I don't- I don't know anymore."

He tipped his head up to the sky, trying to soak in all the moonlight he could. This was the last time he would ever see it. The last time he would ever see the stars. Yesterday had been his last sunset, and in a few hours, his last sunrise, and he didn't know if it was worse when you knew it was coming or when it was horribly unexpected.

"At least it'll be over. It'll finally be over."

A pause. Silence, punctuated by soft breaths.

"I'm gonna be dying in the prison again. Not even somewhere new." He huffed out a dry laugh. "That fucking prison."

"And then... I'll be dead. Forever. Tubbo said it'll be like static, dying, so at least it won't hurt like last time, but... The after, Wil, that's what I'm- I'm dreading."

"But Tubbo can't know that. I'm the one who dragged him into this mess, and I... I feel so guilty. He could just be living like normal, taking care of Michael, and instead... he's wrapped up in all this." He buried his head in his arms.

"How did you do it?" It came out as barely a rasp. "How did you not- I think I understand, now, how you felt. In Pogtopia. This would drive me insane too, living with this."

"At least I won't have to. Think on the bright side, right?" A hoarse laugh. "That's what Tubbo wants to do. And it was so... frustrating, Wil, yeah? Because we're fucked. We're absolutely fucked, and he keeps insisting there's another way but I can't think about that, I just can't."

"I don't want to die. And... I know I've been in Limbo before, but fuck, man, I-"

"I miss you."

A sob tore its way out, tears running down his cheeks, and for the second time that day, he let himself cry.

"I miss you so much. It hurts. It was so bad in Limbo the first time and you just fucking- made it worse but I don't wanna be alone there-"

"And I know if you were here you'd tell me it was for the best or some bullshit like that but fuck, man, you'd know what to do. Or at least, you'd be a bossy little bitch and tell us what to do and I wouldn't have to fucking argue with Tubbo about the plan."

"It's the only way. You get that, right? I'm not being- being stupid, or short-sighted, or anything? Because I really wish this was one of those times."

Of course, there was no answer.

"Yeah, no. You're right. I have to do this."

He wiped at his tears with the palms of his hands. "Gods. They're fucking Gods, Wil. TommyInnit, God-killer, that's what they'll call me." He chuckled wetly.

"I lost your book, by the way. And the Discs. I'm sorry about that. I know you got them for me and I really do appreciate it, and I tried to keep them, but..." An inhale. "I couldn't do it."

"At least the Discs saved our lives, though. And- and you got them! You got them for me! So I guess that means you saved us one last time, huh? Thanks for that. Bitch."

"You probably wanna hear how they helped, but I- I shouldn't say that. I shouldn't be here at all, actually." He glanced warily around. "Someone could be listening."

But the only sound was grass in the wind, and howling stone from the caverns deep in the crater below. Even the creatures of the night were quiet, silenced by the oncoming winter and, perhaps, a sense of anticipation for the day to come. Or, if the universe had any sense of justice, in mourning.

"After all, I'm supposed to be in the prison right now. Or that's what they need to think." He picked at the frayed threads of his jeans. "And people talk. You know how it is - you're the one who taught me that."

A sigh. "I just wanted one last night."

He sat in silence for a while. Time enough for the moon to disappear behind a cliff and the constellations to turn their paths in the sky. Just a boy, eighteen in age but feeling much older, and a monument to his long-gone brother.

Eventually, he tapped his knees. "Well, I should get going. Long day tomorrow, and all." And he got to his feet.

He turned to face the shrine but all words died in his throat, so he simply rested his forehead against the cool gemstone the way he'd seen Wilbur do in a small stone room with a button in this very same location, what felt like an eternity ago.

"I- Goodbye, Wil. We said this already, but... I guess I didn't really move on. I kinda have to now, though, I guess." A laugh.

"Thank you for everything. I really, really wish it could've been different." A deep breath. "For what it's worth, it was fun while it lasted."

"I love you."

And then he turned away and stepped into the shadows, not letting himself glance back.

[mcyt-peach]

Hi, Peach~! I would like to request a oneshot/drabble for cc!Schlatt with "one gives the other a kiss on the cheek and the other one suddenly turns their head" prompt with fem!Reader please?

sneaky schlatt

·˚ * summary: a discussion on the chuckle sandwich podcast means schlatt has to test out a prank suggested by his friends

·˚ * pairing: cc!schlatt x fem!reader

·˚ * warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, technically schlatt kisses reader on the lips without asking but reader was ready to kiss him anyway so...

·˚ * word count: 576

·˚ * genre: fluff, romantic

·˚ * note: kaiselin this was adorableeeeeee I love me some fluffy schlatt and this is totally a trick he'd pull so I hope I did your idea justice

The new Chuckle Sandwich episode was being filmed and the three hosts had decided to talk about old movies and childhood nostalgia.

“Do you guys remember that thing where someone would try to get the love interest to kiss them on the cheek, but they’d turn their head at the last second and get a kiss on the lips?” Charlie questions, carrying on the conversation about old romance movies with plots that flew over their heads as children.

“No.” Schlatt scowls at the screen, clearly confused as to what his friend was referring to.

“Dude, it was a super popular trope!” Ted counters. “I remember my parents even doing it sometimes.”

“Yeah, it was like a cute thing people would do all the time.” Charlie agrees. “You’ve definitely seen it before, you probably just don’t remember.”

“No, I’ve never even heard of it. Besides, there’s no way it would work. What, the other person just doesn’t notice their partner’s head swinging around at top speed? They’d have to be blind for that to work.” Schlatt doubles down on his stance, in classic Schlatt fashion.

“What?” Ted has his signature disbelieving smile pasted on his face. “There’s no way THE Jschlatt has never seen it. It’s the oldest trick in the book. How do you not know it? You’re basically our jester!”

“I’m electing to ignore that.” Schlatt fires back at Ted, turning around to watch you tentatively open the door, his lunch in hand and Jambo at your heels. He motions for you to come in and while you cross the office, he swings around in his chair to face the screen again.

“Dude, try it on her.” Charlie proposes, seeing you usher Jambo through the door before you close it. “She’ll totally fall for it!”

“She won’t.” Schlatt still doubts how anything so childish would ever work, but tests it nonetheless, just to prove Ted and Charlie wrong.

As you set the plate of food down on his desk, Schlatt looks at you and taps at his cheek. “Knock me a kiss, sweetheart.”

All too used to his needy bouts, you don’t put up a fight, getting ready to plant a peck on his cheek. But before you can, he swivels his head to catch your lips in his own.

The kiss is short and sweet. Obviously not too explicit for the sake of his two friends watching on screen, but still conveying all the emotions he found hard to express with words.

Separating from him, you feel a bit embarrassed about kissing in front of an audience. Said audience is currently cheering and shouting “I told you so!”, heard even through Schlatt’s headphones.

Neither of you can hide your smiles when you turn away from each other, him muttering a shy “Yeah, whatever” into his mic. You shuffle out of the office and catch your breath in the hallway, wondering if he’ll be doing that more often.

“Can we keep that in or do you want the editors to cut it out?” Ted asks seriously, not wanting to cross either of your boundaries.

“Nah, cut it out. She’s just for me.” Schlatt’s smirk is oh so obvious on screen.

“God, you even sound like an old movie. You sure you weren’t cryogenically frozen in the 90’s and thawed out?” Charlie moves to a new topic, laughing at how easily Schlatt jumps into explaining the conspiracy that Walt Disney’s head was frozen when he died.

[melissart-s]

A spooky art I did for my fic: Broken bond! Go check it out on AO3!

[melissa-s23]

Well, we've reached the end.

The final chapter of my fic, Broken Bond: Something that we'll try to repair, will post its final chapter tomorrow.

After 2 years, 5 months and nearly 100k words, this baby of mine will finally leave its nest and fly high for the rest of the world to appreciate in its entirety.

Thank you everyone who supported me through this. Your comments and feedbacks matter more than you'll ever know.

[gogegg]

heyyy @perhapseighth i was your secret santa for the @mcytblrholidayexchange !! hope you enjoy this short happyduo fic!

featuring:

-egg possession

-chappyduo

-an unnamed fish!

:)

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

uhhh I kinda went crazy with this. might edit it for ao3 in the morrow bc I love it that much. the allium duo joint exile fic

tw: abuse, kidnapping, injuries, suicidal ideation, self hate, manipulation, brainwashing, vomiting, ableism (either unintentional or solely as a manipulation tool), mutilation, starvation, possessive behaviour, obsession, threats

it's raining, when they’re exiled.

ranboo has his suit jacket pulled over his head and when droplets slip through to the tips of his claws he hisses and jitters. sometimes, it looks like he'll almost disappear and reappear, like the endermen he so resembled, but instead he falls to the ground with a pained screech, the calves of his feet burning on impact with the sodden ground where his skirt isn’t long enough to protect.

still gripping painfully onto tommy's arm, dream slowly walks back to where he fell, and hits him with the butt of his axe. the screech of pain is distorted, almost otherworldly, and it’d be terrifying if it wasn’t so fucking sad.

“get up,” he hisses. “or i'll fucking kill you, and then-“

dream doesn’t have to finish his sentence. shakingly, ranboo gets onto their talons, wincing as they try and match the brutal pace dream immediately sets back on.

(he'd tried to save ranboo. he really had. he'd said it was all him, he lied, but ranboo had confessed, trying to get him out of this mess, and now he was in it too.)

(tommy wants to be sick.)

he’s not quite sure when and why things happen. they’re on a boat at one point, cramped and barely afloat. water sinks in and burns the bottom of ranboo's feet. there’s shouting after that. an explosion. a beach. tommy drags a shaking ranboo under a tree to keep the rain from falling on him. more shouting. more explosions. pain.  blood on his collarbone. pain pain pain. blurring vision.

tommy drags himself under the tree and curls up next to ranboo and hopes he'll fucking bleed to death.

——

it rains far too much in logstedshire.

that is what tommy names it, the logs tell him too. they send their messages from the primes. maybe, if he listens, they'll accept him despite his sins.

he doubts it. he doesn’t deserve it.

he dug a den on the first day, for ranboo to hide under, but even the dirt under there grew too damp and after tending to burns all across his face, he'd spent what energy he had left with the aching scars and bruises and gnawing hunger in his gut to hang up a tent. it's only big enough for one of them, but that's okay. tommy doesn’t mind sleeping on the beach.

(it allows him to pretend maybe the tides will come in and he won’t wake up at all).

he pinches himself. dream wouldn’t like him having those thoughts.

honestly, tommy isn't sure what dream likes. it’s not like he and ranboo were stupid enough to break the rules- they’d learnt that painfully over the first week. it just seems like dream always favours the one of them, and who that was switched on a dime. one day, he'd bring ranboo chocolate (watching him like a hawk to prevent him giving any of it to tommy) and hit tommy for daring to look at him. another, he'd spend all day hanging out with tommy and shout at ranboo until he cried when he so much as said a word.

it was easy to resent ranboo, sometimes. when he got hugs and gifts and food and got to spend the day playing around instead of being forced to mine. but tommy remembers the times where dream extended that kindness to him and remembered how awful it made him feel when ranboo was being treated like shit. it was almost worse.

he just tries harder to be good. if he's good maybe he'll be able to get dream to stop. if dream likes them both maybe everything would be okay.

it never is.

——

when ranboo shows tommy his memory book for the first time, he really is sick.

which is annoying, because he'd only had scraps ranboo had hidden today, but fuck. it was bad.

tommy could recognise dream's handwriting from a mile away. even if he couldn’t, the pages blatantly ripped out would give the game away, along with what was in the book.

“my name is ranboo,” the first line read. “my home is logstedshire. my best friend dream keeps me and my friend tommy safe here. l'manberg kicked us out so dream is helping. if we follow dream's rules to protect us everything will be okay…”

ranboo rubs tommy's back, as gently as they can. “are you okay? are you sick? i'll ask dream for a potion.”

tommy shakes his head weakly. “no, it's…”

he can’t fucking break this spell for ranboo, though. his throat dries up when he tries. ranboo was always the happier of the two, excited in a way that was almost funny in each passing day. it was like ranboo had become the loud, excitable one and tommy had grown quieter and more distant.

and this was why. he didn’t have a fucking clue what was wrong, did he? he's happy because he thinks this is safe, thinks this is normal. and maybe it's selfish of tommy but prime he wishes he could live in that fantasy land where he doesn’t know it’s not normal for your best friend to hit you and starve you and never explain why. at least one of them should get to live that life.

“nowt. just hungry.”

ranboo furrows his brow in concern. “i'll be good today, then.”

tommy feels sicker at that. dream had started switching from his weird hot and cold game to being… nice. usually. it was weird, at first, but it was alright. dream was a good friend, even if he wasn’t as cool as ranboo. but the thing was, it was even worse when they actually fucked up.

they wouldn’t be hurt at all. dream wouldn’t change a thing with them. it was always the other who bore the full weight. no food, no privileges, any sort of thing they’d earned the right to keep taken away. if it was more serious, then they’d be hit, or shouted at, and dream still sometimes used the axe. they’d be abandoned to tend to themselves and do the tedious work of survival while the one who actually fucked up would have the guilt eat up at them as dream chatted like everything was normal.

ranboo forgot to make armour to destroy yesterday. a grievous enough sin, apparently, that now tommy's still smarting bruises.

he's not stupid. he knows that isn’t right. he likes dream, it’s better to have him as a friend than a jail or and he was pretty sure he was trying to help, but what dream does to them isn't okay.

but ranboo doesn’t need fo be burdened by that knowledge. they, at least, deserve happiness, even if it is fake.

——

ranboo moans in pain as tommy finishes up bandaging the stumps where his tails once lay.

he can still smell the enchantment on dream's axe, hanging in the air like pollen. it almost drowns out the stench of blood and the ash of the ruins around them. he’s not sure which is worse.

it’s all tommy's fault. it has to be. he tried to pretend like he could own things, and he knew ranboo would bear the brunt of that punishment. dream had just done what he always had done.

“it's okay, big man, it’s okay,” tommy tries to soothe, running fingers through the overgrown mop of hair that almost reached down to ranboo's waist. he just flinches more.

tommy just screwed everything up, didn’t he?

a week. that was what dream had said. he'd visit in a week, to watch them. until then, it was all tommy's responsibility to take care of ranboo, and he wasn’t sure he could. there was just so much blood.

he shudders, thinking about what dream will do to him if ranboo dies on them. being without his best friend was bad enough, but dream could make anything worse.

tommy sobs, trying to keep the tears from landing on ranboo's already scarred and tattered skin the best he can. he fails, and the faint smell of burning flesh joins the horrible mix and ranboo lets out another faint moan.

if dream could see him now. he'd always been there to watch over them, and what if when he came back to watch, there was only one of them left?

“well, watch me now,” tommy mumbles to the air. he was meant to be there to watch them.

watch them. watch them. that sits wrong. he's meant to be their friend, right?

“you were only here to watch us.”

tommy mouths it more than speaking it, but it feels like a proclamation. he was only there to watch them. just watch. he wasn’t their friend. he didn’t care about making them better. what he cares about is watching them.

and then what? would he even care if ranboo died?

would he kill him himself?

“ranboo.” tommy hisses. “can you stand?”

“tommy?” ranboo slurs, eyes half open.

“ranboo! fuckin'- this is important, okay?”

“i- i think so-“

“okay, then this is what you’re going to do, big man. there’s a cabin through the snow that way.” tommy points vaguely in the direction of techno's place. “there’s more bandages there than i have. i want you to run there, as fast as you can, and not look back.”

“but-“

“i don’t know how to do this,” tommy admits. “i've dealt with shit before but never like this. if you have those supplies you'll at least have a chance of surviving. now go, before you die.”

“but dream-“

tommy's throat constricts. “i'll explain. he'll understand. he's our friend, right?”

ranboo nods, before stumbling up to his feet, limping across the ruins towards the vague direction of the tundra. tommy whispers a silent prayer to the primes that he’ll make it. that at least one of them will survive.

ranboo deserves it more than him, at least.

——

dream, unfortunately, did not kill tommy. if only he’d be that merciful.

he pretends it’s mercy. he pretends to be concerned and he treats tommy with condescending kindness until he doesn’t. then, tommy sometimes swears he does die, but when he's better dream is even more smothering and the cycle continues.

he’s not stupid. tommy knows why he does it. he wanted two pawns, and if he lost one he'd do anything to keep the other. nothing personal.

it's easier to see it like that, at least. it's hard, sometimes. but it's easier.

dream does not call the room he’s in a cell, but it is. it’s in a prison, and he's locked in most of the day. the baby-blue wallpaper and fuzzy carpet he'd installed hadn’t changed that, nor had swapping out the sparse furniture for a million blankets and decor more suitable for someone half tommy's age. he almost misses the dark obsidian and lava- at least that didn’t treat him like a child.

because even if sixteen was a child- he could admit to that now, because ranboo was certainly just a child- what tommy had gone through had undoubtedly aged him out of that.

they train, sometimes. on days where dream doesn’t panic when tommy has so much as a paper cut, or on days when he's not beating tommy's head into the wall. sometimes, tommy helps repair dream's endless supply of cloaks. sometimes, he cleans blood off of dream's weapons and tries not to think about how it got there.

(sometimes it’s his, and that’s easier.)

dream, in almost paternal tones, calls tommy his protege. under his breath, tommy calls himself a glorified servant.

every day, his thoughts drift to ranboo. his kind smile, the scars that ran jagged lines over his entire body, how absurd he looked in his half-ripped suit and tiara, trying to keep his hair in an orderly braid and failing miserably. dream would help sometimes, if it was a good day. dream insists on braiding tommy's hair the same way now, and tommy almost wonders if he misses him too before he reminds himself that dream does not care for either of them at all, because the alternative is worse.

(either way, it’s clear tommy would be the favourite. dream says as much, saying how thankful he is that tommy is the one that stayed because he was far more fun and ranboo was boring. tommy reminds himself it’s a lie and it makes him feel less sick.)

maybe ranboo is dead. part of him hopes he is. that way, he was free. the primes would surely guide his way, and he'd be granted the happiness he deserved. fuck, even if they didn’t, there couldn’t be anything worse than this.

could there?

——

tommy doesn’t know how long he spends in the prison before dream decides to take him out on his “first mission.”

which is a meeting. of fucking course it is. because tommy’s mission has always to be a glorified page, hasn’t it.

tommy skims his fingers over the waters edge absently as dream rows. maybe they’re leaving the server. maybe if they didn’t tommy could make his own escape. if he sank to the bottom it’d be deep enough no one could save him in time, if he were to jump. and if dream didn't constantly shift from looking at the ocean to tommy, clearly aware of the same possibility.

dream always got so fucking mad if he tried to die and failed, so it was best to make sure that the opportunity wouldn’t fail.

they stop too quickly to have gone far. idly, tommy wonders how far they must be from-

logstedshire.

the ruins lie there, same as always. tommy hadn’t noticed how bloodstained those ruins are until now, red and green.

the skeletal remains of two tails still lay on the floor, undisrupted.

“what the fuck.” tommy says under his breath. “what the fuck.”

“aww, didn’t you like the surprise?” dream laughs, and tommy immediately prepares for the worst. “chill out, i'm kidding. you act like i'm gonna kill you. we're obviously not here for this, we're going to see techno.”

tommy feels an equal amount of hope and fear bloom in his chest at that. techno's cabin was this way. and if it was, then maybe…

suddenly determined, tommy walks as quickly as he can, trying to match dream's confident strides even with the limp in his leg. he can barely feel the humid awfulness of logstedshire shift into the equally awful ice of the tundra, all caught up in his thoughts.

maybe there would be a grave. or maybe ranboo would open the door, or he'd be in the cabin, because surely techno would take him in. he'd be wearing a cleaner suit, and he'd have cut his hair back to shoulder length. they liked it long, actually, so maybe they’d keep it. they’d be smiling, like always, and they’d greet him with a hug. “tommy, it’s been so long!” they’d say. and, he hoped, they’d add “i realised dream was a fucking bitch” and tell techno to punch his lights out.

or maybe there would be no hints at what happened. but tommy can hope, even if he really shouldn’t.

when they get to the house, techno's already standing outside, waiting. “i dunno why you had'ta keep me waitin’ this-“ he says, cutting himself off once his eyes drift to- “tommy?”

“i told you it was important, right?” dream laughs.

“he's dead.”

“prime, no. he's… he wasn’t well, y’know. not in that place. so i found somewhere better for him, and started helping when i couldn’t before.” dream shrugs. “of course, that’d be illegal even though it was the right thing to do, so i kept it quiet. don’t go telling l’manberg, though, or they’ll have my head for not killing him myself or something.”

liar. liar liar liar. tommy wants to scream the truth to the world, but dream wraps his arm around his shoulders tight and squeezes his bruises, a reminder to stay quiet and be good. so he nods.

techno growls. “i knew they were bad, but…”

“it’s okay. i just thought maybe tommy needed a change of scenery, y’know? he's… he's fragile, after everything. he’s not well, y’know, physically or mentally. so he might say some weird stuff, but i knew you'd be able to handle that.”

techno snorted. “yeah, i got my hands full with ranboo-“

“ranboo? ranboo's here?”

he was alive. he is alive. tommy feels more sick than he ever has in his life and he’s not sure if it’s from excitement or fear.

“oh yeah, you two were in exile together, weren’t you? c'mon, he's in the livin-“

tommy pushes himself free of dream's grasp, excited to finally see his friend, practically his brother, again for the first time in- months, maybe. he could never even be sure. time felt like it dragged too long to tell.

bursting through the door, tommy sees them. he won’t miss them for the world. their hair's different, in a ponytail, and they're dressed in much more casual clothes than they’d normally be caught dead in, but he could recognise that face anywhere.

“ranboo!” tommy scoops ranboo into a warm hug, barely noticing how they remain limp. “oh, prime, i missed you so much-“

“do i know you?” ranboo squeaks, and tommy's heart breaks.

“ranboo, it’s me! we were in exile together, remember-“

“i'm sorry. i'm really sorry. but i- i don’t remember a thing.”

oh. of fucking course. because he didn’t have the memory book, he must have forgotten everything by the time he’d healed enough to really be cognisant again. tommy scans his face for the slightest hint of recognition, but there’s none.

tommy must be a fucking bitch, because he bursts into tears then and there.

“i'm sorry! i'm sorry!” ranboo cries out, desperately trying to find a way to salvage the situation, and tommy keeps sobbing. and sobbing, and sobbing. the floor falls underneath him, and he curls up, shaking, like a fucking pussy.

he didn’t even cry this hard when dream was at his worst. but the idea of ranboo not knowing who he was, his only friend, the only person who ever cared for him no longer being able to… it was stupid, but that must be his breaking point, he guesses. like a fucking idiot, that makes him cry harder.

“i'm so so sorry about this,” tommy vaguely hears dream say, “he's not mentally well, is there a spare room i can help him calm down in?”

“yeah, there’s one upstairs.”

tommy barely registers as he's lifted up like a child, carried away from ranboo, but he does when he hears dream whisper harshly in his ear.

“tommy, if you fuck this up i'm never letting you out again. ever. smile and play nice and act like l'manberg ruined your life, or you'll wish i'd let you die.”

tommy nods, still sobbing.

“and dry your eyes. you’re making me look bad. stop acting like an abused puppy, i practically spoil you.”

tommy tries to stop, but the tears refuse to stop, even as he tries to dry them with his hands desperately. dream's voice softens as he ruffles tommy's hair affectionately. “look, i know it’s tough, but this is for you and ranboo, y’know? if i'm able to make things right, you can be friends again. i'll make sure he remembers you, tommy. i know how to fix it, just let me, okay?”

tommy nods, finally managing to go from hysterical tears to a more reasonable level of crying.

“that’s good enough. just smile and pretend everything’s fine, okay? i'll even let you listen to your discs for a while when we get home if you’re good. and remember it’s for ranboo too.”

it hurts tommy's face to force a grin, hurts his heart to try and think of how to pretend to play along with dream's story and throw his home under the bus. but tommy isn’t stupid. he doesn’t believe dream’s bullshit, but he knows what he’s implying. behave and ranboo won’t get hurt.

that, at least, is a comfortingly familiar game to play.

[residenthesitant]

HAPPY AUFEST EVERYONE

Title: no matter how far i go (i always end up back here) Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: T Characters: Eret, Dream, Foolish, Wilbur Relationships: Eret & Foolish, Eret & Dream, Eret & Wilbur Additional Tags: Fantasy AU, Partial D&D AU, Sailor AU, Masquerade Ball, Implied/Referenced Abusive Relationship, Found Family, Nostalgia, Eret-Centric

Summary: After escaping their going-nowhere apprenticeship in the capitol with celebrity mage Dream, Eret joins the trade ship Red Queen as an alchemist, weaponsmith, and healer in order to improve their craft. It reminds them all too much of how they became Dream’s apprentice, betraying their old troupe - the L’Manberg Players - to join him, but find it far, far more fulfilling.

When the Red Queen returns to the capitol for a masquerade ball, Eret must confront not only the consequences of running away from someone so powerful, but with their past as well. The Merchants’ Gala attracts people from all over, and the crew of the Red Queen isn’t the only traveling band of misfits in attendance.

here's my fic for @mcytblraufest!!! beta read by @starduststudio with art by @virgildraws <3333 thank you both so so so much, this fic has been a blast to write. hope you all enjoy!!! <33

LINK IN REBLOGS

[chrysalizzm]

vine boom. wasteland character expression memes

read the series here.

(more on the characters and also quality details under the cut)

so wasteland, the series currently being updated on ao3, focuses pretty much entirely on the dsmp cast, but behind the scenes the cast of this thing is sprawling, including but not limited to empires, hermitcraft, the life series, mcc participants, smpearth, noxcrew, older guard mcyts like jordan n mitch n jerome n seto n deadlox, speedrunners, tiredtwt, outsiders smp, fable smp, redacted smp, and my personal scrungklies, which are team salad, a korean mcyt group that brings me great joy. this is why there r characters on this expression meme chart that u probably do not recognize if u are a) under the age of 18 b) exclusively know dream smp or c) are not a korean speaker. some fun facts abt the wasteland characters, their powers, or the circumstances in which these expressions take place:

ivory was a sidekick for hermit that was chased into villainy following her coming out as trans. as throne, she is now one of jordan's lieutenants in trinity and has assassinated several government officials.

jimmy, alias firebird, is an empire offices hero. he also happens to be allied with the fates under the alias wildfire. i'm sure this is of no import in the story /lie

i cannot imagine in what circumstance punz would ever make that expression. mans is chill as fuck.

i accidentally anime boyed the hell out of fruit, alias floodbloom under chase co. he has a lot of admirers on tumblr and about two thirst accounts on twitter

shelby's (alias wilder) hero uniform is heavily inspired by princess mononoke. she's signed on under empire offices, like jimmy, and can release poisonous spores from her skin.

tommy's doing the nervous lore laugh in that drawing

velvet is doing the anime lady hohoho pose while covered in blood. if he didn't have painful and complicated emotions about velvet turning to villainy, ant would be swooning

dont worry about why illumina is covered in blood it is absolutely not related to the series whatsoever /suspicious. instead consider how illumina (alias anima) is fruit's hero partner under chase co.

shoutout to @pixelperfunctory for this req. thats the most boomer ass lookin expression in the world

a brooding phil (not to be confused with a broody phil, which is c!phil). techno starts to see this expression more and more as they get older.

not to toot my own horn but foolish came out extraordinarily handsome in this drawing. he has some golden scales and they glimmer brighter when he's happy, which eret is very fond of.

grian, who we know as seraphim from wonderland, is remarkably scrungkly. he has three sets of wings and is a talented flier.

wilbur also came out quite beautiful, blood and tears notwithstanding. the next fic scheduled to be published hopefully either by the end of may or early june might shine some light on his expression here

sapnap, like ivory and shelby, would probably tear someone's throat out with his teeth given the opportunity. in the interim he gets thousands of thirst traps made of him by adoring stans.

i imagine that's the kind of AYO?? expression ponk makes whenever sam short-circuits the entire spark co. headquarters

my boy. he's not lookin too good

mapple (villain name kallisti, also known by other villain orgs as she of the heights) my scrungkly. in wasteland he's the leader of villain org team salad which is not at all what it appears to be. that particular drawing is a rare moment where he's being flustered by his very charming queerplatonic partner parkmo.

oh my love. by the time the silver age ends seto has been dead for six years. in life he was one of chase co.'s senior heroes, alias sigil, and he could control the wind. his friends - mitch and jerome, especially, who are the joint heads of chase co. - loved him very much.

[basilly]

instagram || georgenotfound x reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ summary: what would george post of you on his instagram?

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ includes: posts & stories!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ pronouns: none mentioned but fem presenting

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