Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

– Main Server: Hypixel, 10 Years Prior –

“Hi!” came an all too cheerful voice, disturbing his perfectly good nap. Techno frowned, looking up and finding himself face to face with a smiley face etched on a white mask. He drew back in surprise. The owner of said mask wore a light green turtleneck with jeans and leather boots. Fingerless gloves clad their palms. A mop of untidy blonde hair on their head.

Techno was about to berate the kid for disrupting his sleep when they took of their mask, allowing their hair to fall over their eyes. They secured the mask with its leather straps on the side of their belt. The kid – a boy around his age – giggled sheepishly, brushing his hair away from his freckled face.

The boy started apologizing profusely to him, but Techno stayed silent. The voices were oddly quiet too, except for the occasional crooning about the boy (“He’s cute,” one of them piped up, “Can we keep him? Dadza won’t mind another kid, I’m sure.”) who was now vehemently explained why he was here.

“– they were being mean, and I’ve seen the way you fight, it was so cool! Anyways – uhm, I, uh, was hoping you could teach me your ways so that I can scare them off... Mama doesn’t agree, though. She said I should just ignore them. But I can’t just ignore all the hurtful things they said! But it’s okay if you won’t! I won’t pressure you or anything, just wanted to take my chance since you’re the Technoblade and all but– yeah, anyway.”

The boy flushed when he realized he was rambling. “Sorry, I’m rambling again–”

“You’re getting bullied?” Techno interrupted.

“...Yeah.”

“And you want me to teach you my techniques?”

“Yeah?” The boy tilts his head. “Why not?”

Techno stared at the strange boy, wondering whether he should help him or not. On one hand, he did disturb him sleeping, but on the other, he seemed really eager and genuine in his intentions. It didn’t even feel like he’s using him or anything. The boy even showed him his face.

Techno shrugged, standing up and brushing away dirt from his pants. “I can threaten them for you. If you’d like.”

The boy chewed on his lip, looking rather thoughtful. Then he beamed, bright eyes sparkling with something akin to admiration. “Sure.”

“Let’s go!” the boy hooted, grabbing Techno’s hand and dragging him off despite his protests.

+++

“My name is Dream by the way,” the boy introduced himself, much, much later, when the idiots who were making fun of his acquaintance friend (question mark?) had run off. Techno brought the boy to meet his Dad, who was pleasantly surprised to find his socially withdrawn son coming home with a friend.

“You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” Techno teased, enjoying the way his new friend blushed and looked at the ground.

“Sorry?” Dream offered weakly.

Techno laughs, genuine and free. He liked this one, and the voices seem to agree too (there were still others who called for blood, but he had gotten better at ignoring them). “It’s alright, smiles.”

Wilbur, his older brother by almost three years, stopped and stared at Dream when he got home, almost tripping over the carpet and breaking his precious guitar. Their Dad, Phil, shooed him away with a spatula.

Dream giggled at their antics, but pouted when his mother suddenly sent him a message through his comms, telling him to come home.

“Mama wants me to come home now,” Dream said unhappily, typing out a reply on his communicator.

“You’ll come back, right?” Techno said, trying his best not to sound hopeful. He failed at that apparently, when his father shot him a knowing look.

Dream smiled gently, a yellow rose materializing from his hand (he’s an admin too, like Dad). “Of course, bacon. I had fun today.” He gave him the rose, and turned to his dad. Dream bowed slightly. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Craft! You too, Wilbur!” He shouted to his brother in the kitchen.

“Ah.” Wilbur sounded flustered. Idiot was probably blushing right now “Thank you...?”

“You’re welcomed here anytime, Dream.” His father smiled kindly.

“Thank you again,” Dream said gratefully, he turned to face Techno with a huge smile. “Can’t wait to spar with you, Tech! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Dream,” Techno said. He looked at the rose in his hands, his fingers to stroking its delicate petals.

When Dream was gone, his dad placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “Yellow roses symbolize friendship,” the elder told the younger with a grin. “I’m proud of you, Techno.”

It was Techno’s turn to blush. “...Thanks, Dad.”

I sense a beautiful friendship blooming, one of the more peaceful voices gushed, excited.

Techno would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to this... whatever this is.

 – Minecraft Championship 8, 1 Year Prior –

“Dream– Dream, please, please.” Techno was practically begging at this point, ruby eyes staring intently at the two remaining players in the arena. His best friend notched the arrow, and he aimed at HBomb again, careful and precise. “I will tell everyone on my YouTube channel to subscribe to you–”

Michael McChill cackled from beside him, but Techno could feel that he was nervous too. King Burren said nothing apart from a pained noise that escaped his lips when Dream released the arrow and missed his target.

Shit. Fuck. Fuckity fucking fuck–

Have faith in your bestie, a voice hummed softly. Dream notched another arrow.

E, the others agreed, which made no sense whatsoever.

Is it just Techno, or did the voices become such idiots over the years? What happened to the bloodthirsty little shits he grew up with?

‘Gone, reduced to atoms,’ a voice quoted, causing the others to spam ‘KEKW’.

Dream released the string (oh my gods), and Techno held his breath.

+++

Dream took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. He can faintly hear Michael’s frantic yelling from above, which amused him greatly. He can hear some people cheering for him, others for HBomb, but he paid them no mind.

Focus.

It was all in slow motion. HBomb sprinted to Dream’s right – a huge mistake, for himself or for HBomb, he doesn’t know (it’s now or never), and released the arrow.

It zipped off with a soft whir...

...and shot HBomb right at the chest. He exploded into a puff of pink particles, leaving him the sole player in the arena.

Pink Parrots had won.

“Thank! You! Dream!” he heard Techno shout triumphantly, emphasizing each syllable with a loud clap. Michael cheered alongside the other players and admins. Burren shot him a thumbs up and clapped.

His favorite pesky bird flipped him off from afar, but he too joined in on the celebration.

Dream merely grinned and gave a short, mock-bow to the audience.

(Art belongs to my friend @Sou)

+++

Techno had a relaxed and amused smile on his face as Dream playfully drops the MCC crown on top of his usual crown.

The little shit has the audacity to curtsy with a little mocking, “Your highness.”

“Idiot,” Techno scoffed, though his heart warmed. Even after his reputation from SMP Earth as ‘The Blood God’ (Dream had giggled the entire time), Dream just acted how he always did with him.

Dream wrapped his arms around Techno’s taller frame in a heartfelt embrace, a gesture Techno always returned and appreciated (and looked forward to).

He enjoyed Dream’s hugs (though he would never admit that). They were warm and welcoming and familiar, just like Mumza.

(Sometimes he thinks he can still see her up in the clouds when the sky is dark enough, her loving smile telling him that she’s so, so proud.)

Dream smiles at him, bright and beautiful, oblivious to his morose thoughts. Dream tells him he needs to go find his other friends – a hothead ravenette named Sapnap who was apparently the son of Bad Halo, famed owner of the MunchyMC server, and George, son of the relatively well-known adventurers Henrietta and Alexander Lore.

(“You’ll always be my best friend, bacon,” Dream once reassured his insecure ass.

“Good,” Techno huffed. “’Cause you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

His best friend wheezed, shifting closer beside him as they stared up at the stars.)

Dream runs off with his own MCC crown askew on his head, laughing as a few of the other players chase after him, asking for tips and tricks he could teach them to use in the next competition.

That’s my boy, Techno thought proudly.

– L’Manberg, Dream SMP, 10 Months Prior –

“It is finished,” came the smooth tenor of Dream’s voice as the masked man came to stand beside him. His netherite armor clinking against each other with every little movement, his perfect, porcelain mask clasped firmly on his face, shielding it from prying eyes.

“The end of an era,” Techno agreed. They finished what Wilbur started. It was finally over.

If only Dream had called him to smack some sense into Wilbur (a fucking drug van, what was that idiot even thinking?) then they could’ve finished this much, much earlier.

Unfortunately, Dream had always been so stubbornly independent.

“No more,” Phil declared firmly. His father earned his title well. Wings spread out; one full, one broken and wrapped with bandages. He looked like an angel amidst the destruction. His face lined with determination and, dare he say, regret.

Havoc and devastation bloomed over what once was known as L’Manberg, the numerous craters getting bigger and bigger as TNT kept on falling from the obsidian grids on where they stood together.

– Pandora’s Vault Prison, the Badlands, Dream SMP, 5 Months Prior –

“Prime, it was one time!” Dream cried abruptly, throwing a raw potato into the burning lava. He looked frustrated, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. “If I hadn’t slept with that privileged asshole–” Techno blanched “–I wouldn’t have access to the knowledge of that damn book...”

He trailed off, looking like a kicked puppy with his sad eyes, pouty lips, and mussed up hair. Techno would have been at his side and comforted him instantly if not for the sudden information dump his best friend just blurted out.

Dream told him the Necronomicon came from Schlatt, Wilbur’s mortal enemy, then does that mean...?

No way.

Wilby’s gonna be sooo pressed about this, a voice called out gleefully. Man’s been crushing on our favorite homeless blob for ages!

Stop reminding me about Wilbur’s weird crush on Dream, another begged. Please.

“You slept with Schlatt?!”

“It was one time–!”

Techno stared at him with an incredulous look.

Dream squirmed at the intensity of his stare. Then eventually caved in, averting his gaze from Techno. “It was during Pogtopia,” he admitted, blushing red up to the tips of his ears, “I invited him to one of my bases and we drank. A lot. Two drunk and hormonal young men plus alcohol is never a good thing. One thing led to another and...” Dream shrugged, hiding his face in his knees with a pained whine.

Techno snorted.

“Don’t laugh,” Dream said, huffily.

“I thought you swore off your hoe tendencies!”

“I’m an addict!”

“I can see that,” Techno drawled out, amusement coloring his words. “You are kind of a whore. No offense, nerd.”

Techno could tell Dream was itching to wish for the sweet embrace of Death right then and there, so he decided to lay off his teasing. Just this once.

The warrior muttered a half-hearted apology and sat beside the admin, throwing his cape over the other’s frame. Dream curls up at his oldest and best(est) friend’s side, relishing the now-familiar warmth.

Dream sighed tiredly, closing his eyes.

“Get some sleep, smiles,” he heard Techno murmur as he floated to oblivion.

+++

“When we get out of here,” Techno says to a sleeping Dream, a protective arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “I’m going to take you golfing.”

– Arctic Commune, the Greater SMP, Dream SMP, 2 Months Prior –

“I gave you that book three months ago, Phil!” Techno shouted; ruby red eyes almost crazed. Something was missing from his ensemble although Phil couldn’t quite put a finger on it. “I almost died!”

Phil sputtered. “You said three months!” he protested. He froze, as if realizing something. He took Techno’s Will out of his inner pocket.

“Wait wait wait–”

“I did not say three months–!”

Phil read the passage, eyes widening as he went over the words.

He screwed up. Royally.

“Oh my god, you said three days.”

Techno stared at his father in disbelief.

“Bruuuh...”

+++

“Wait, where’s your cape?”

“The homeless teletubby stole it.”

“Stop being a tsundere, Techno. You gave it to him, didn’t you? Anyway. How is Dream holding up? Is the Warden treating him well?”

“...No. No, Phil. Dad. It was terrible. Quackity... he...”

“Tell me everything.”

+++

“...”

“Yeah...”

“I guess this calls for a Syndicate meeting?”

“Not yet. I have something else to do.”

+++

(-123 98 -247)

The coordinates of the exact block Dream stood on when he invited him up to some random mountain for a little reunion.

The sentimental dork.

(Dream placed a crown of red and yellow roses onto his head. “Missed you,” he admits quietly.

Techno tried to ignore how desolate his tone made him feel.

“You saw me just a month ago, Dream,” Techno pointed out in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

“Twenty-three days,” Dream corrected, and Techno can almost hear the pout in his voice. “And I missed you.”

“...I missed you too, blondie.”)

Don’t worry, Dream, Techno thought, digging up the chest his oldest friend had hidden. I’ll be personally destroying that prison block by block.

The voices stirred.

Blood for the Blood God, they demanded.

– Syndicate Base, Dream SMP, 2 Months Prior –

“I know you guys are probably gonna flame me for this... but,” Techno paused, turning to his father with a look that screamed help me. Phil did nothing but gave him an encouraging nod. Wow. Thanks for the emotional support, Dad.

He figured the best way to break the news is the straightforward way.

“I need your help to get Dream out of prison.”

Ranboo did not take it well. “What?”

Niki looked confused, but also thoughtful. Huh, he half-expected her to react negatively. But Niki was always the reasonable one, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised. “But– can you... can you at least explain, why?”

Alright then.

The fair lady asked, and so she shall receive...

Ranboo was gasping in horror every few seconds, Niki looking more and more appalled the more Techno spoke while Phil had a somber air around him that had the rowdiest of his crows on their best behavior.

One of them cawed sadly, placing a shiny pebble in front of Phil to try and cheer him up. Phil gave a soft smile to the bird, taking the pebble, and patted its head gently.

Phil doesn’t agree with some of the methods Dream used to achieve his “ultimate goal”, but he understands.

The boy always had a “the ends justify the means” mindset even when he was younger, and it will take a while for him to unlearn that toxic mentality.

He’ll get Dream a therapist. One that isn’t anything like Puffy because the last time he heard, that woman disowned her own son. 

Yikes.

“...besides helping the others locking him up in the vault, he and I never really had any proper interaction,” Niki was saying with a shrug. “Besides, you and Phil like him. So surely, he can’t be that bad, right?”

Phil coughed, remembering all the times Dream and Techno almost gave him a heart attack whilst attempting to do their crazy stunts back at Hypixel.

Dream, the little shit, was apparently deathly afraid of spiders and not falling to his death. Go figure.

It did not help that Techno was always there to cheer him on.

“Uh. Yes. Sure. Of course.”

Ranboo didn’t look the least bit convinced at Philza’s words, but he nodded in acquiescence. He trusts them (and their questionable judgement).

“What do you need?”

Chapter Text

– Craft Residence, Hypixel, 9 Years Prior –

Soft music was playing from the jukebox in the living room.

Dream was there to visit them (read: Technoblade) again. Unfortunately for him, his dear brother was away with their father at the blacksmiths to get some new weapons forged.

Dream had been understanding, and offered to get out of his hair as soon as possible. The younger boy was stepping out of their door before Wilbur blurted out that he should stay.

His father raised him to be a well-mannered gentleman, thank you very much.

Although he had a feeling that Techno would love to disagree.

“Do you know how to dance?”

Wilbur immediately wanted to facepalm. Out of all the questions he could’ve asked, he chose that?

Dream shook his head. “I don’t. But I’ve been wanting to for a while now...”

“I’ll teach you,” offered Wilbur immediately.

Dream accepted.

From the few years they’ve known each other, he knows and experienced first-hand how brilliant Dream was. He was a fast learner, as shown at how quickly he implemented his Dad’s swift and graceful fighting style in his own.

It looked like a dance in its own strange, macabre way. How Dream disappears in a blur of green and gold, the slashes of his sword barely visible if it weren’t for the light reflecting off of it. It was all so very enticing.

Now, Wilbur was stood rather awkwardly in front of an expectant Dream, unsure where to touch without making him feel uncomfortable.

Dream scoffed, taking Wilbur’s hand and guiding it to his (small, Wilbur noted in interest) waist. “I’m not fragile, I’m not contagious.”

Wilbur’s heart fluttered. He couldn’t help but grin. Dream was simply too cute. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dream glared – or, well, tried to – the slight smile on his face told Wilbur he wasn’t all that angry at him. “Shut up and dance with me,” he demanded.

“Think you can keep up with me, my dear prince?” Wilbur teased, enjoying the disgruntled look on the younger boy’s face at the pet name.

He was scowling now (and it was adorable). A pretty pink blush painted his cheeks, the color making his freckles stand out even more.

Oh, the urge to count them all.

Wilbur intertwined their fingers together, and swept him away.

Dream did not squeak. He didn’t.

+++

“You’re my dance partner now, Dreamy,” Wilbur declared, in awe how Dream quickly grasped the moves and techniques. The boy ruined any other dance partner for him. “Mine.”

Dream giggled, deciding to humor him. “Yours.”

– Mojang Admin Academy, Hypixel, 8 Years Prior –

“Here we are.” His father scanned the entrance of the school. He checked his pocket watch. “About half an hour early.”

A bit too early, Wilbur believed, but politely kept his thoughts to himself. The campus was bustling with nervous freshmen and various groups of lower and upperclassmen, a couple of professors here and there – one he recognized as Dan Minecart was talking to a group of students, the iconic goggles perched on his head.

“If you’re not early, you’re late,” Dream quipped, giving the elder blond a mischievous grin that made Wilbur’s heart skip a beat.

Phil shook his head fondly with laugh.

“Take care of yourself, you hear me?” Techno demanded.

Dream looked at him in earnest. “I will, Techno.”

Phil hesitated a bit before he said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t convince your mother to come.”

Dream froze, disappointment crossing his features for a brief second before he schooled them in. He offered his father a strained smile. “It’s fine. She’s busy anyway,” Dream muttered, sounding hurt.

Wilbur hated that his father put that expression on Dream’s face, and he hated how Captain Puffy thought it was a good idea to put her voyages as her first and foremost priority rather than her son’s happiness and well-being.

Just the thought of Dream being upset makes his blood boil.

Phil winced, murmuring an apology which Dream waved off; allowing his father to pull him in for a comforting embrace instead.

Dream seemed cheerier when he pulled away, causing Wilbur to calm down and not bust an artery. He’s too young (and beautiful, not to be vain) for that.

Wilbur has to admit that he might have a little problem. And it concerns this lovely blond that never failed to amaze him.

No thoughts, head empty, just sweet dreams of bright eyes, soft and freckled skin, plush lips; so kissable– no, stop.

Okay. Maybe the problem was bigger than he initially thought.

It was clear that his (not so little) crush on Dream wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d like to keep it that way if he valued his manly bits.

He was thankful that Dream, for all his brilliances, was excruciatingly naïve (or perhaps just oblivious?) when it came to the romance aspect in life.

(Though he was sure his family isn’t blind to his affections.)

“Still my dance partner?” Wilbur asked him hopefully, ignoring the questioning look his brother shot him.

“Yours,” Dream affirms with a wink, giving him (is Dream trying to kill him? my gods...) and Techno quick hugs (he really didn’t want to let go) before he grabbed the handle of his trunk. He lifted one side and a pair of wheels allowed it to roll effortlessly. Dream blew a teasing kiss-goodbye (Mumza, I am coming down any moment now) and approached a curly haired ravenette with a deep purple face mask standing by the dormitory’s main entrance.

He must’ve had an ugly look on his face because Techno gently nudges him. “He’s allowed to have other friends, y’know.”

Wilbur bit back a snide reply at his brother’s double standards as his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “I know.”

+++

“Where’s Dad?” Wilbur suddenly asked after a few minutes of looking around, now realizing his father was missing, leaving him and Techno standing awkwardly in the middle the most prestigious admin school’s campus.

Techno did a thousand-yard stare with a sigh. His poor socially awkward brother must be suffering right now. “Away. Gossiping with Captain Sparklez, most likely. They knew each other from before.”

Ah. The better captain.

Wait–

“Gossiping?”

“Like old ladies,” Techno confirmed. “We’re... gonna be here for a while.”

Wilbur snickered. “Let’s just hope they have good food.”

– Greater SMP-L’Manburg Border, Dream SMP, 1 Year Prior –

“The best hands are everyone’s!” Dream finally snapped, taking no bullshit from Wilbur as he stubbornly tried to argue with him once more. “It’s called democracy, you fucking idiot!”

“But L’Manberg isn’t a democracy; I elected myself–”

“Fucking exactly why it’s a problem! Crimes shaped your country, Wilbur! You really think I’d just let you build a country whose main source of income is drug creation?! Think of Tommy, think of Tubbo, Hell, think of your son! What would they think?”

“They think you’re an evil, heartless tyrant,” Wilbur pointed out, a sneer curling on his lip. “You think they’d listen to you?”

Dream drew back, hurt. What happened to you, Wilbur?

Spinning the narrative had been so laughably easy. Children were so gullible sometimes.

(“So, really,” Tommy was saying to his best friend, Tubbo. “We have duo-citizenship to the Greater SMP–”

“There is no duo-citizenship in our nation. Our nation has zero duo-citizenship,” Wilbur said firmly, and Tubbo juts out his lower lip in a pout. Tommy raised an eyebrow at him, before he went back to their conversation.

“Look at me!” he then demanded to the teens, further interrupting their little chitchat. “Do you boys care about the revolution?”

Tommy snapped a playful salute. “Yes!”

Tubbo takes a step forward. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m with you.”

“Look.” Wilbur sighed. “Dream isn’t our enemy – he is our neighbor. But we are seceding from his tyrannical rule.”

“What’s ‘tyrannical’ mean?” Tubbo frowned, confused.

Wilbur scoffed. “Ha. Big words. That’s what we use in war.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo said. Tommy nodded as if it perfectly made sense. 

“Say it, Tubbo.”

“Transanical,” the boy dutifully attempted. Tommy vehemently shook his head at his best friend.

Wilbur claps his hands together. “That’s it, that’s it!” he praised. “Look at you boys. So good. Who needs weapons? Who needs armor?”

“We have sticks,” Tubbo offered.

Tommy chimed in, “We have–”

“Words!” Wilbur declared.)

He moved on years ago.

And during those years, he took a 2b2t refuge, Tommy (and Tubbo, you can never separate those two), under his metaphorical wing, destroyed and made alliances with nations in SMP Earth, met a woman he came to love and married her (even when she found out he sucked at swimming), and Fundy came along soon after.

(He never once mentioned his wife’s divorce, the very incident that sent him spiraling and hungry for some power, some control. He was the Angel of Death’s eldest son, is he not? Then why couldn’t he create something majestic and worth putting into history books like his father? Why couldn’t he be a great warrior like his brother? Besides his physical features, he was nothing like his mother.

Wilbur’s ambition pulled him away from Dream. And that became his downfall.)

No thoughts, head empty, only thinking about his beloved country and his citizens.

He will not think about Dream.

He’s over it.

– Wilbur’s Limbo, 7 Months Prior –

Death... sucks.

Limbo is where souls with lose ends stay. Come, let’s dance the Macabray.

Wilbur wasn’t in his mother’s domain like he initially expected (no doubt she would give him an earful after what he did), but in an abandoned train station which Wilbur guessed was his purgatory or limbo of sorts.

Rich man, poor man, come away. Come to dance the Macabray.

It’s been thirteen years and he. Was. Bored. Bored enough to keep talking about hemorrhoids for five months straight just to keep himself from spiraling down further. He tried to keep count of the trains, hoping that at least one of them would stop for him.

Time to work and time to play. Time to dance the Macabray.

He gave up six years ago.

One and all will hear and stay. Come and dance the Macabray.

He sighed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as yet another train sped past him, leaving Wilbur in the deafening silence.

All must dance the Macabray.

Wilbur was starting to regret begging for his father to end his life.

+++

One day a train screeched to a stop.

Don’t. Wilbur wanted to say. Don’t give me hope.

Doors opened with a sharp hiss, and Wilbur nearly couldn’t resist the urge to fall on his knees right then and there.

“You look like hell,” someone says bluntly, and Wilbur almost cried. The red lights of the train platform flickered, reflecting it across a very familiar porcelain mask.

“Yeah?” Wilbur replies, slightly breathless as he took in the beautiful (wait, what?) sight before him. He takes an unsteady step forward. “Been here for thirteen years.”

Dream extends a welcoming hand as he spoke the next words, “What are you waiting for?”

Wilbur would be a fool if he didn’t willingly accept.

(With a boyish grin, Wilbur offers a hand towards Dream, “What are you waiting for?”

Dream scoffed, taking the older boy’s offered hand. But instead of allowing Wilbur to lead, Dream yanked him in so that they were chest to chest, and pulled their joined hands forward in the beginnings of a tango. “I hope you can keep up, motherfucker.”)

Dream being all hot and badass and saving Wilbur from limbo brought his crush back full force.

‘Got over him,’ my ass.

He imagined the Fates from wherever those three old hags are (probably planning some poor bastard’s demise), laughing at him: LOL NOOB!

+++

“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled, uneven pants escaping his lips as he ran towards his wayward brother figure, coming to a stop at his side. He can see Tubbo and Ranboo catching up in the corner of his eye. Wilbur was stood on L’Manberg’s wreckage, and Tommy was half-afraid, half-expecting that Wilbur would be furious at its state. But he wasn’t, and that confused him.

Instead, Wilbur’s eyes were fixated on the rising sun. He stumbled a bit, pressing a hand to his temples as he grimaced. He breathed in deeply, and Tommy took a step closer, pausing when Wilbur raised a hand in a halt.

Tommy heard his shuddering breath as the older one continued to stare at the horizon. “By the Voids. It’s beautiful.”

He grinned at Tubbo and Ranboo, feeling ecstatic.

His brother was back (what about Ghostbur?), and that was all that mattered.

But if they were too look close enough, they could’ve seen Wilbur stealing a quick glance at the prison. The reds and oranges of the sunrise falling across his handsome face. Dark eyes gleaming with reverence.

Thank you.

– The Greater SMP, Dream SMP, 2 Months Prior –

When the prison alarms started ringing, Wilbur got excited. His savior, his lovely Dream, was finally free.

You could probably imagine the immense disappointment that he felt when the Warden Sam gathered everyone (sans a few others) in the community house to reassure them that it was just a false alarm. That the prisoner was still there. That they were still safe.

They have an arsonist, a mercenary, a pyromaniac and a couple more of concerning individuals still walking free amongst them but... sure. Whatever helps them sleep at night, Wilbur supposed.

Quackity had been suspicious throughout the whole meeting though. Oddly silent, smiles were looking forced, and, no matter how hard Las Nevadas’ president tried, was being very shifty; it might not seem much to the untrained eye, but Wilbur grew up with the Angel of Death as his father. He knows these things.

Did Quackity have something to do with the prison?

Wilbur kept his face carefully blank.

He hoped not, but if the duck did, then... what a shame. What a waste. He genuinely liked Quackity (not like-like, despite what Tommy thinks; Quackity is a charming fellow, but he is not Wilbur’s type). But if he hurt Dream, then, well... what’s one more body?

When Sam finally allowed them to leave, Wilbur only had one thought on his mind.

Time to start planning.

Chapter Text

– Pandora’s Vault Prison, the Badlands, Dream SMP, 1 Month Prior –

“He must be so lonely,” Tina mused to herself, feeling the cold obsidian tile underneath her warm palm fade away as Sapnap whisked her off to see the rest of the sights.

The prison seemed to be hiding something. And whatever it was, it was something terrible.

– The Greater SMP, Dream SMP, a Few Weeks Prior –

“You must be Tina.” A man with lovely pastel purple hair grinned kindly at her. Beside him, her fellow newcomer, Boomer, waved. “I’m Michael. I hear you’re a fellow Dream apologist too, eh?”

Tina blushed, delicate shoulders shrugging as her cat ears twitched shyly. “I dunno. Maybe. It just… feels so morally unjust, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Michael’s eyes went sad, gazing forlornly at Pandora’s Vault. “It does.”

They were silent for a moment, before–

“The warden, Sam, chased me off,” Michael told them abruptly. “When I came to, erm, visit Dream. Warned me that he’ll kill me the next time I pull a stunt like that.”

Tina recoiled.

Boomer looked dismayed. “Sam wouldn’t do that.”

“Unless you know someone else with green hair,” Michael said dryly, leveling the other man with an unreadable look. “It was definitely Sam. He was wearing a gas mask too. You know who else wears gas masks oh so casually? HAZMAT Specialists… and douchebags.”

Michael smirked mischievously at her, and Tina tried to suppress her laughter. Just for Boomer’s sake.

“Why don’t we take this conversation somewhere else?” Boomer suggested, looking distressed at Michael’s claim.

“My temporary house,” Tina volunteered. “There’s lots of space in there.”

The two men agreed, following her towards the main lake, where a beautiful dark oak house stood right next to it.

+++

“Nice place,” Michael commented, looking around.

Tina sat on the couch, gesturing at them to follow. “Thanks. But I’m afraid this isn’t mine. Callahan told me it belonged to a former server member named Alyssa.”

“What happened to her?” Boomer frowned, taking the armchair from across her. Michael flopped inelegantly on the beanbag, blowing strands of hair away from his face. “Did she get banned or something?”

“No,” Tina replied. A sad smile tugged on her lips. “Callahan said that she just… left one day. He never gave me the details. I never asked.”

“Oh.”

Michael shifted awkwardly, attempting to sit up straighter. Boomer politely kept his mouth shut.

“Anyway…” Tina tried to steer the conversation away from the subject, not liking the awkward atmosphere she just caused. “Warden Sam. Prisoner Dream. Pandora’s Vault,” she listed off. “What’s up with all that?”

“People didn’t give me any clear answers at all,” Michael huffs, crossing his arms as he returned to slumping on the beanbag. “It’s all: Dream manipulated everyone, became a tyrant or something, a war over fucking music discs, of all things. And something about a drug empire?”

Boomer looked confused and a bit disbelieving at that last statement, mouthing the words ‘drug empire’ to himself. Tina leaned against the soft cushions, brows knitting as she thought.

“When Callahan and Sapnap gave me a tour,” she began. “Sapnap told me a bit about the server’s history. And the only things he said about Dream was ‘he did bad things’. Nothing about what caused him to do those in the first place.”

“Exactly!” Michael said with a scowl. “I know my Dream, and I just know for a fact that he wouldn’t just do all those things without reason. And no, I am not defending the manipulation, I just found it strange why literally no one asked for his side of the story.”

“Maybe you’re just biased because of your little crush on him,” Boomer muttered, then immediately held his hands up in a placating gesture when Michael glowered at him. Tina raised an eyebrow.

That certainly explained a lot of things.

“Nothing against that; I can see the appeal,” Boomer soothed, and Tina could see him holding back a laugh. “I knew Dream before he invited me too, in case you forgot. But we’ve never really spoken outside of competitions, so forgive me if I don’t know a whole lot about him.”

Michael winced, slumping further in his seat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The white-haired man merely looked amused before sobering up. “So, what’s the plan, boss?”

Michael began to grin, and Tina felt herself freeze.

…is it too late to back out now?

+++

Tina felt hysterical. She couldn’t believe that she would be conspiring with other people she had just met to break the public’s number one enemy out of prison.

Yet here she was.

What even is her life anymore?

She missed the Offline-Thieves Server. She missed her family (Rae, Poki, Toast, Kunno, Lily, Corpse – the very guy who convinced her to give the Dream SMP a chance when the invite got through. She had an inkling that Corpse knew Dream beforehand as well), but then she thought of the new friends she made; sweet and quiet Callahan, over-enthusiastic and stubborn Michael, and mysterious but kind Boomer and decided that... maybe.

Maybe this would be worth it.

She was rudely yanked back to reality when Michael suddenly cheered, standing up to bounce on the balls of his feet, causing his vibrant purple hair to bounce upon his eyes. “We invade at dawn!”

“Now wait a damn minute, Michael,” Boomer began, white irises both amused and horrified. “That wasn’t part of the plan, what the fuck are you–”

Tina smiled at their antics, but her eyes were worried. She could only hope that everything will go according to plan.

+++

Her two new friends left with promises to visit the next day, so Tina decided to tidy up a bit. Ignoring the fact that Callahan, and more recently, she herself would take it upon themselves to take care of Alyssa’s abandoned house.

It’s called stress-cleaning for a reason.

Speaking of Callahan… when she heard the floorboards creak, that’s when she knew.

Tina turned around, coming face to face with a guilty-looking Callahan.

“How long have you been standing there?”

Long enough, Callahan signed. He shoots her an apologetic look. Sorry for eavesdropping.

Tina waved him off. “That’s alright.” She paused, eyeing him apprehensively. “You’re not gonna... you’re not gonna tell on us, are you?” she then asked.

Callahan shook his head. Dream is my friend, he explained. I already lost Alyssa. I will not lose him too.

Callahan takes a carefully folded piece of paper from his innermost jacket pocket and presses it to Tina’s hands.

Good luck, he gestured with a sad smile. I wish I could do more but…

He waved his hands aimlessly, as if helpless, then clasped them behind his back.

“I understand,” Tina said quietly, offering him a smile.

Callahan respectfully inclines his head, and leaves as quietly as he arrived.

Like a man on cat’s feet, she thought. Her tail flicked behind her, as if reminding her that she is a cat hybrid too, you dork.

Tina unfolds the paper to look at its contents.

Her eyes widened.

It was the prison blueprints.

Chapter Text

– Kinoko Kingdom, Dream SMP, a Few Weeks Prior –

“You’re so beautiful,” George murmured in awe, his eyes raking over all of Dream’s exposed features. Cute freckles dusting his cheeks, the slight curl at the ends of his hair, his lightly glossy lips…

Dream removing his mask for long periods of time has become an increasingly rare occurrence, and George wanted to make sure he was there for as long as he could each and every time it happens.

George can’t help the delighted smile blooming on his face.

“Truly?” Dream hummed, smiling at him in a sensual manner. It made George’s whole being ache in longing. Gods, he’s such a mess.

The next words Dream uttered made him hesitate,

“Then tell me you love me.”

George froze…

Though he doesn’t quite understand why. It was such a simple request–three simple words–yet it was so hard for him to deliver.

Why couldn’t he say it?

He could feel the defeat and resignation radiating from Dream the longer he was silent. His chest twisted painfully as the smile melted off Dream’s face.

“I–I’m sorry,” George stammered, taking a step back, ignoring the hurt in the other’s eyes. Prime, he was such a coward. “Dream– Dream, I don’t think I can–”

What is wrong with him?

Dream was quiet.

“It’s alright,” Dream then muttered, resigned. He looked so sad, and George felt like a horrible person. “I can’t expect you to give everything to me, George.”

Why isn’t he angry him? He should be angry! He should be yelling at him; not comforting him!

George felt a soft kiss planted on his forehead as Dream whispered, “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t healthy for you, Georgie.”

I know, George wanted to say. But it was his turn to stay silent. Like the coward he was. And I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you want. What you deserve.

George had so many things to say to him, yet he couldn’t speak a single word.

Dream pulls away, and George had to restrain himself from pulling him back. Back to his arms again. Where he wanted him to be.

+++

George awoke to the sunlight streaming through his window blinds. He blinked rapidly, as if willing the world to be nighttime again, and frowned. Sitting up suddenly, George ignored the sharp sting in his temple.

Gah. Just what he needed today after that dreadful dream. A migraine.

He forced himself out of bed and into the kitchen.

George sighed, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. He was still so tired. But life goes on.

He poured himself a cup of water, and as he did that, he noticed a cluster of small little red (?) and white mushrooms growing on his windowsill.

He stared at the fungi and brought the cup close to his lips, taking a small sip.

The base of the mushrooms reminded him of the little blobs Dream used to doodle on the corners of maps and outside the margins of his numerous journals. Dream always did like to draw... and write.

Dream was a brilliant writer, and George fondly recalled one of his favorite pieces, a particular poem he had etched into his memory. It didn’t have a title though. But it was alright.

It was great either way.

The poem went something like...

---

---

Oh my gods. Dream.

It’s like he predicted his own downfall.

George doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

He finishes his drink, and decides to make breakfast.

It had been a while since he properly ate something. A few weeks since he and Sap had any proper conversation.

A few months since he started visiting.

George takes a cutting board, a bowl, some mushrooms, and a knife.

Ɛksdee was good company, he really was. A bit unorthodox sometimes, but hey, aren’t they all?

George doesn’t know if his opinion on the god was genuine, or that he only liked him because he bore an eerie resemblance to Dream.

Either way, he felt like a terrible person.

Dream. Dream. Dream.

It all comes down to Dream, doesn’t it?

He missed him.

He wonders if Sam is treating Dream well, then scoffed at the stupidity of the question.

Of course, Sam will be fair (and empathetic, hopefully) to him. Sam was like a second father to George, he was kind and gentle and understanding, so he had no doubt of his abilities as Pandora’s Vault’s fair and just warden.

How he managed keep friends like them will forever be a mystery to him.

George would consider himself a naturally closed-off person. His icy demeanor and general apathy always scared off potential allies and friends (much to his parents’ chagrin), up until Dream and Sapnap came along.

Dream was a whirlwind of adventure in George’s life, a rising star in the admin community, a passionate and brilliant boy who chases after his dreams like he chases after terrified opponents in Parkour Tag.

He was everything George wasn’t.

(While Dream and Sapnap enjoyed the thrill of the adrenaline and adventure in the great outdoors, George preferred to stay in and read–novels, journals, textbooks, sometimes even old newspapers–everything his parents brought home for him from their expeditions.)

Maybe that’s why he was so taken in.

He brings the knife down, still lost in his thoughts.

“George,” came a painfully familiar voice, spoken directly in his ear.

George gasped, slamming the blade a little harder than intended. An inch closer and George could’ve sliced his fingers off.

“Careful,” Ɛksdee warns, large hands engulfing his own and guiding him, and George swallowed thickly; the familiarity of his hands made him ache, “not to cut yourself.”

“Leave me alone, Ɛksdee,” George snapped, a little harsh, but it didn’t make the god the least bit deterred.

“Dream wouldn’t want you to be lonely,” Ɛksdee murmured softly.

George closed his eyes. If he imagined hard enough, it would’ve been a different mask. One with a little mocking smile instead of an X and a D.

The grip on his hands tightened momentarily. He sounded sad. “I am not him, George.”

George’s eyes fluttered open, and he caught a glimpse of translucent golden wings in his peripherals: a symbol of Ɛksdee being one of the Divine.

Not human. Not his Dream.

“I know,” George whispered, resigned. “I know.”

(“It’s all just a game to you, George,” Ɛksdee growled, hurt and angry, staring down at the mortal who continued to take advantage of his kindness.

He noticed that everything George did; he did to Dream. His ward, his vessel, his little Daydream.

Dream did everything for his friends and yet they still asked more and more from him, but he still did what they wanted for them anyway and was always there if they needed someone to rely on.

And yet they all turned their backs on him.

With one last scathing look at the mortal, Ɛksdee vanished.

George stared at the space where Ɛksdee once was, his mind spinning.

Maybe Ɛksdee was right.

He has no clue about the harsh world outside of his bubble. Before the argument with Dream, Dream and Sapnap have always protected him from having to see all the cruel stuff out there… and after the fight (“Just say you hate me.”) he just… continued living in his delusional lifestyle, that everything is fine, everyone is friends and that they all can be happy together.

It was like he wasn’t even part of the server anymore.

Maybe Dream was right when he decided to dethrone him. A poor excuse of a king, he was.

All Dream asked of him was to stay neutral, and even then he failed that simple task.  

George looked down at the grass and stones beneath his feet. He kicked one away, feeling lost and helpless.

…It really was just a game to him.)

“George,” Ɛksdee called out, more firmly this time.

With an irritated sigh, George placed the knife on the counter and turned to face the god. “What?”

Ɛksdee had moved away from him, which, good. Personal space.

“Let me cook.”

“What.”

He could feel the god raising an unimpressed eyebrow under his porcelain mask.

“You heard what I said. Let me cook,” Ɛksdee repeated slowly, pushing George away from the counter with unending gentleness (it made him want to cry). “I understand that you are not in the right state of mind right now. Let me do this for you.”

George wanted to decline.

“Please.”

To hell with it.

“Oh, fine.” George groaned, sliding in the nearest seat.

+++

It was rather unnerving, George thought as he eyed Ɛksdee from where he sat across him, merely observing as he ate his mushroom stew.

He shouldn’t complain, not when Ɛksdee literally made him the best food he has ever eaten in his life.

He takes another spoonful.

Who knew gods could cook?

Ɛksdee was still watching him, unmoving, like a perfect porcelain doll. The god waited patiently for him to finish, and George had never felt more awkward in his entire life.

Once he finished, Ɛksdee snapped his fingers, cleaning everything up.

George stared. Huh, that was convenient.

“Come with me,” Ɛksdee said, offering him his hand. “There is something we need to talk about.”

George tried not to grimace. Is he still mad at that incident?

He, despite his fear, takes it.

+++

“Where are we?” George asked, running to catch up to the god’s rather long strides. Why he won’t use his wings, he will never know.

“The Nether,” Ɛksdee said simply, offering no other details.

George bit back an annoyed reply.

“Yeah, I know. But, why?”

“You’ll see,” the god answered.

George, sensing that he won’t get a straight answer, went silent.

+++

They arrived somewhere deep in the middle of a warped forest, in an arena looking ruins with a circular shape.

Someone was in the middle. They were floating, legs crossed as they meditated (at least, that’s what George thought they were doing). Their features were obscured in an obsidian-colored cloak, a halo of blue fire above their head. A golden trident was on the floor below them.

Ɛksdee clamped a hand on George’s shoulder, whispering a quick warning, “Do not anger him.”

George stilled, nodding.

“Hello, Heɪtʃdee,” Ɛksdee greeted to the floating figure.

The figure – “Heɪtʃdee” (what kind of name was that?) – slowly stirred.

Heɪtʃdee raised his head, opened his (glowing) eyes. One was blue, one was a normal brown.

George takes a bewildered step back.

It was… him?

No. He looked different. He looked too perfect.

Heɪtʃdee’s hair was neatly combed in contrast to his messy curls. He was dressed differently in a flowing teal get-up with a darker colored swirl which looked like a G on the front. Wither skulls decorated his ensemble, and an Eye of Ender placed on the center of his belt.

The god (George was 95 percent sure this guy was a god, the bat wings and glowing eyes kinda gave it away) set his legs on the floor, taking the golden trident, and strode towards them with gracefulness and ease that made him green with envy.

“Hello, dear,” Heɪtʃdee drawled, smirking slightly at Ɛksdee before meeting George’s eyes.

“You must be George.” Heɪtʃdee smiled benevolently. “A pleasure to finally meet my vessel.”

Vessel. The word seemed familiar. George could’ve sworn he once read something about that. Yeah, no. He’s not paid enough to do this, which was saying a lot because he doesn’t get paid.

Go with the flow, George, his mind told him with a sneer. Go with the flow because that’s all you’re good for. Always following, never taking the initiative.

A gentle squeeze on George’s shoulder brought him back to reality.

George didn’t know what to say to the god, so in his panic he just gave an awkward wave and a hesitant smile that was more like a grimace and prayed to Prime that it will all go well.

Heɪtʃdee only seemed amused, though. Thankfully. But his bi-colored eyes were gently mocking.

George chose to ignore that.

“Come along,” Heɪtʃdee said. “We have lots to talk about.”

“That we do,” Ɛksdee agreed.

George had no choice but to follow.

+++

“As you know,” Heɪtʃdee began promptly, wings folding behind him as they strolled through the quiet parts of the forest, “the server is deteriorating.”

“I didn’t know that,” George spoke up. “Everything’s working perfectly so far.”

Heɪtʃdee frowned, and plucked a mushroom off of a tree trunk, raising it for him to see.

George watched in horror as the mushroom quickly went rotten, dissolving right in front of his eyes.

“Exactly,” said Heɪtʃdee. “The effects are not immediately visible, but they are there. You just need to look in the right places.”

Ɛksdee nodded sagely.

“With the admin incapacitated, there was only so much Heɪtʃdee and I can do, and Kairos can’t turn back time to undo the glitch. There are laws in place for that.”

“Who’s Kairos?”

“Time god,” Ɛksdee answered. “You know their vessel.”

“Wait–”

“Foolish, while a powerful god, is still a minor deity,” Heɪtʃdee continued, brushing dirt off his sleeves. “He can’t do much in a large scale besides summoning storms and occasionally bringing someone back from the dead.”

Ɛksdee crossed his arms and tilted his head, as if in deep thought. “What do we do…”

George swore he could feel them goading him for an answer.

“You two are literal gods, can’t you just break Dream out of prison and be done with?” George demanded.

Heɪtʃdee looked unimpressed. “You can’t expect everything to be handed to you in a silver platter, George. Dream– he, he made me swear that I will not intervene unless he calls out for me.”

Heɪtʃdee then muttered something about a “self-sacrificing moron”, but that was probably George’s imagination.

“Besides,” Ɛksdee interrupted before the two got in a cat fight. “There are power dampeners and banishing sigils carved in the prison. The Warden–” George didn’t like how he talked about Sam like that, but he’ll stay quiet for now “–took desperate measures in making sure there were no possible ways for Dream to escape. I did manage to wheedle my way in for several minutes.”

“And how did it go?” Heɪtʃdee’s eyes shone with curiosity.

“Technoblade wished for a bell.”

George’s face twisted into something unpleasant. Technoblade was imprisoned?

“And did you give them a bell?”

“…”

“Ɛksdee.”

As the duo watched the god shyly poke his index fingers together, George struggled to reconcile the image of the Almighty End Protector bearing down on him with all the eldritch-esque horrors H.P. Lovecraft could only dream of writing. 

“Yes…”

“You–” Heɪtʃdee seemed to be struggling on whether to laugh or to smack his fellow god across the face for wasting such a precious opportunity. “You idiot!”

“I know!” Ɛksdee admitted. “But listen–”

“Guys!” George shouted, trying to take control of the situation. Oh my Prime, the gap moe of these two is diabolical. “I might have an idea–”

The respective gods of the Nether and the End turned to him expectantly, and George takes a deep breath.

This is it.

A chance to get his Dream back, and maybe… just maybe… George will hold on to this second chance – a gift from the heavens – a little tighter.

George might not be a leader, he might not be much of a fighter, but he is a damn good strategist.

Who else helped Dream plan the attacks on L’Manberg?

DreamXD and GeorgeHD designs by pandemique.

Chapter Text

– Pandora’s Vault Prison, The Badlands, 3 Months Prior –

The Warden eyed him critically, and Bad fidgeted with a bottle of fire resistance potion in one hand as he waited.

It was the 12^th of August, Dream’s 22^nd birthday.

Dream always had a strange fascination with 22^nd birthdays, and Bad thought that it was probably because of that song his favorite singer released back in 2012.

Whatever reason for this fascination aside, Bad thought it would only be appropriate to visit Dream (and by extent, Techno) on his special day.

It’s been a while since he properly visited one of his boys.

The Warden sighed. “You can get in, but remember–”

“Dream is dangerous, and Technoblade is dangerous. I know.” Bad cut him off with a polite but firm smile. “There’s a reason why it took almost all of us to contain Dream, and the only reason why we haven’t with Technoblade is that he has Philza Minecraft on his side and the old man swore not to hold back in matters regarding his sons anymore.”

(The Egg seemed pleased, and its whispers of swaying the powerful admin to their side grows louder.)

The offended expression on the Warden’s face was laughable.

“...Just go.”

Bad did just that, drinking the potion and stepping into the platform.

+++

“Dream, Techno,” Bad called out as he stepped into the confines of Dream’s obsidian cell.

It was scorching; the cell feeling like a furnace as the lava slowly flowed back down behind him. He wasn’t uncomfortable though, having raised a little muffin-head of a pyromaniac as a son so he was sort of used to it, but he worries for them.

The two occupants sat beside one another, with Technoblade’s arms wrapped around Dream’s middle as the pink-haired warrior rested his chin on Dream’s shoulder, watching lazily as Dream wrote (or drew) something in his journal. A red cape was thrown haphazardly over their shoulders.

(Sapnap wrapped his arms around Dream’s waist, snuggling up to him. Dream rolled his eyes, and threw an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. George was resting his head on Dream’s lap, the latter’s fingers buried in his hair, combing through his curls as the brunet fell fast asleep.)

Bad felt himself smile. He was truly glad that they have each other, but he wished he could’ve done more to help the boy he saw as his son.

(He couldn’t risk Sam finding out and removing him from his post, therefore taking away the only support system Dream has inside this horrible prison.)

(The Egg will be very displeased if he had failed his task.)

(Its patience for him had already thinned, seeing as he failed in the Red Banquet.)

Dream looked at him as he approached them, his cracked mask revealing a single, bright green eye. He uttered a soft greeting before tucking away his quill and journal.

If Dream seemed to curl in further to Technoblade’s embrace, none of them said a thing.

“So...” Technoblade began in his usual monotonous drawl, squinting up at him with startling red irises. “What brings you here?”

Bad knelt in front of them, taking a green cupcake from his inventory and handing it over to the baffled blond. “As it is Dream’s 22^nd birthday, I thought he’d appreciate a little something...”

“I...” Dream trailed off, staring at the dessert. The frosting was lime green, his favorite color, and white star-shaped sprinkles splattered all over it. He wonders what the cake’s flavor is...

“Vanilla,” Bad answered to the unasked question, as if reading Dream’s thoughts. “I know how much you like vanilla, so– yeah.”

When Dream stayed silent, Bad began to panic. “It’s alright if you don’t like it, I could always make another one– with your input this time–”

“Bad, calm down.” Dream laughed lightly, the sound easing some of Bad’s nerves. “It’s amazing... thank you.”

Bad smiled sadly. It took so little for Dream to be happy that it honestly hurt.

Techno seemed to realize this too, judging by the sad look he directed at his friend.

It was painfully clear that Dream craved a stable parent-figure in his life, needless to say that Bad was more than happy to fill in that role.

Dream’s mother, Captain Puffy, is a brilliant woman who did not bother warning Dream before leaving the capital on the day after her son’s sixteenth birthday, leaving a freshly sixteen-year-old Dream to fend for himself his entire freshman year in the academy and the years after that, up until Dream finally gave the captain an invite last November.

Bad wasn’t close to the woman – he never really bothered to get to know her even until now that she’s living in her son’s server – but he sorts of hates her; she really couldn’t have made it any clearer to the poor boy that having to raise him always kept her back from the life she actually wanted to live.

Dream has never said this out loud, but Bad can tell there’s a vulnerable spot in his psyche that never really healed from that abandonment.

(And abandoning him for another? Even when she fully knows that Foolish will outlive her? Just so she could pretend to be a successful parent? That’s low, and it only fueled Bad’s resentment towards her.)

“Don’t I get a bite?” Technoblade whined, and Dream vehemently shook his head. He had adjusted his mask to reveal his mouth, which he took a bite from the cupcake. Green frosting stained the corner of his lips, which Dream wiped off with his free hand.

The famed warrior gave up on trying to persuade him. Instead, he signed mournfully. “You’re such an idiot.”

Dream gave a boyish giggle, clutching the cupcake close to his chest. “Ooh, I’m an idiot now?”

“Yes! You’re an idiot– oof!”

Bad watched them bicker with a fond smile. The nostalgia was really pulling on his heartstrings. Dream used to be like that with Sapnap and George up until their fallout... George was going back to old habits again; off to dreamland to escape his problems while Sapnap, blind with bitter anger, refused to see reason.

(His son always did take after his dearest husband. His stubborn boys.)

“I should get going now,” Bad said quietly, rising up to his full height and giving the two a wave which Dream returned. “I wouldn’t want him to catch me slacking off on my shifts.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dream sighed. “Thank you, Bad.”

“It’s the least I could do, kiddo.”

Dream smiled, a little shy and a little sad. He didn’t take off his mask, and Bad could understand.

Technoblade murmured something to Dream as Bad finally turned around to take his leave. “Hey... it’s alright... I’m still here.”

+++

Dream was different now. Even more so now that he was imprisoned. He was closed-off and quiet, and he was showing signs of psychosis – a far cry from the boisterous young man he once knew.

And of course, Bad wasn’t blind to the Warden’s neglect.

Bad – and Ant, on occasion – always delivers Dream some extra rations when the Warden seemed to be in a good mood.

And there were the scars on his arms. He had a feeling that the Warden had something to do with that.

But he doesn’t have any concrete proof though, so as frustrating as it was, he couldn’t say anything without being labeled as a traitor.

Their trust in him had already been strained (and shattered, depends on the others) because of that banquet. Couldn’t they see he was trying to do some good for the server?

But Technoblade was here, and Technoblade would keep Dream safe. And alive.

(Dream is a young and powerful admin, the perfect ally for their cause.

The boy was desperate for something permanent. Something perfect. A big, happy family. Anyone with eyes could see that.)

(Convincing the Blood God and his father would be even trickier, but that’s a problem for another day.)

He was sure that Dream will be very confused as to why Bad was working with the virus that is trying to take over the very thing Dream put his blood, sweat, and tears on.

Dream won’t understand yet, but he will. Bad was certain of that.

With the Eggpire by his side, Dream will finally get the family he always wanted.

(The Egg promised.)

Now where did he put those blueprints...

Chapter Text

– Rosebud Café, Hypixel, 4 Years Prior –

It was 9:30 on a Monday evening, and Punz was just taking out the trash to finish up his shift when he heard light footsteps. He looked up to see a stranger walking rather swiftly down the street, throwing glances over his shoulder every few seconds.

Punz didn’t think he saw him around the café before.

He raised an eyebrow.

The stranger meets Punz’s eyes under the dim lighting and immediately runs over to him, hooking his elbow around his and dragging Punz deeper into the alley with the boy’s back against the wall; giving him a clear view of the moonlit street.

(Art belongs to my friend @Sou. Don’t ask why Dream is shorter, please.)

What the– “You okay?” Punz found himself asking.

“I’m so, so sorry for dragging you into this,” the boy whispered, ignoring his question (ouch). His cheeks were a little flushed. Frantic and calculating eyes flickered over Punz’s shoulder.

The boy was cute and maybe (most definitely, absolutely) Punz’s type. He was wearing a green jacket with a black turtleneck underneath it.

Pretty, Punz thought. This would’ve been romantic (he chose to ignore the fact that a stranger, a very pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless, just dragged him to an alley for some reason), but the backdrop was such a killjoy.

They were right next to garbage bins for fuck’s sake.

Punz strained his ears to listen, his eyes never once leaving the stranger’s pretty face.

Faintly, he can hear people – maybe two or three – and their footsteps click-clacking against the cobblestone streets in the distance.

However, before Punz could get another word out, the boy quickly shushes him.

“I may or may not have pissed someone off,” the boy explained in a hushed tone. He looked sheepish, and it was kind of adorable. “And now they’re chasing me. So, uh… yeah.”

The boy gave a breathy giggle, sounding rather exhausted from the adrenaline. “That was so stupid,” he muttered, looking over Punz’s shoulder. “Heh… fuck.”

His freckles are cute, Punz noted faintly, then silently scolded himself. Stop that.

Somebody yelled something undecipherable from around the corner, their footsteps getting louder and louder by the moment.

Long fingers clutched Punz’s long-sleeved, button-up shirt, pulling him closer, and Punz had to rest a hand next to the boy’s head keep his balance.

“Woah, there…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the boy chanted, moving his hands up to cup Punz’s face. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

Punz felt his face warming up at the boy’s gentle caress, but he still didn’t understand what the other was apologizing for.

Then he felt a pair of soft lips on his and– oh.

(Art belongs to my friend @Sou. Also, please ignore George there, she thought it would be a funny addition and she wasn't wrong.)

All rational thought left Punz’s brain as the boy kissed him firmly. Punz could feel the soft tickle of the boy’s warm breath upon his skin, fingers cradling his face.

It felt… good. He ignored the more sensible part of his brain, yelling at him because why are you kissing a stranger in the middle of the night you dumbfuck–

But of course, all good things must come to an end.

The rushing footsteps went right past them, and the boy pulled away with a sigh of relief, letting his hold on Punz’s face loose.

The boy suddenly looked horrified in what he had done, wringing his hands together anxiously as he took a step away from him.

Punz was most definitely not disappointed.

Stranger danger! his mind screeched.

(He was a mercenary; he had done his fair share of work-related lip-locking. This should not be bothering him.)

The boy shoots him one last apologetic look before turning on his heel and running off.

Punz just stood there, completely frozen, his head spinning.

He tastes like vanilla, Punz thought deliriously. Then, Shit.

+++

Punz stumbled into the café in a daze.

He briefly wondered if he would ever see the boy again.

The owner of the café and his boss, a lovely woman named Rosy, looked at him in concern. “Are you alright, Punz? You look quite flustered. Did something happen?”

Punz shook his head. “Everything’s fine, Rosy. No need to worry about it.”

“Alright then,” Rosy murmured. She sounded skeptical, but Punz paid it no mind.

The feeling of the stranger’s lips against his own lingers, and his cheeks stay pink.

+++

“Good morning!” a voice greeted cheerfully, and Punz suddenly came face to face with the boy from last night.

“I–” Punz faltered, seeing the familiar shade of red the boy wore and the golden insignia stitched on the front pocket of his blazer. “You’re a student?”

The boy nods, fingers tapping along the counter. Punz feels cold horror crawling up his spine as his heart drops to his stomach. “Wait, how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” the boy answered casually, as if he wasn’t currently giving Punz the biggest scare of his life.

With that, Punz breathed a sigh of relief. His heart was palpitating like hell in his chest.

Thank fuck.

He already has a couple of warrants for his arrest in multiple cities (he was a contract killer, for fuck’s sake), and he really doesn’t need another one.

The boy (“Dream,” the boy said with a slight upturn to his lips. “My name is Dream.”) ordered something fairly simple, so Punz had his drink ready in no time.

As Punz slid the beverage towards him, Dream said,

“Hey... so about last night–” Dream fumbled through his words, cringing. “’M sorry–”

“Dream, it’s fine,” Punz insisted. Surprisingly, he found that he meant it. “Seriously, man, don’t worry. I was just glad I could help.”

Dream blushed furiously, muttering a quick thanks before fleeing.

What a strange boy...

(Later that evening, Punz asks a colleague to access the school’s records. Just to confirm that Dream was indeed eighteen.

He released a bigger sigh of relief when he heard the confirmation.)

– Rosebud Café, Hypixel, 3 Years Prior –

It’s been over a year since that incident, and Punz liked to think that he and Dream are pretty good friends (he hoped). Dream goes to the café almost every day now to get his daily dose of iced vanilla latte, and as unhealthy as it was, Punz could relate.

Homework sucks, and with Dream opting for spatial manipulation as his core subject in his specialization years, his academics only doubled.

He had seen the amount of theoretical essays and projects Dream had to do for “hell week” and almost cried, so Punz decided to give him a pass, but not before warning the other to get a decent amount of sleep or Punz would have Rosy kick him out of the establishment because no Dream, just because Einstein slept for three hours a year doesn’t mean you should too–

+++

“Hey, Dream,” Punz greeted his favorite the customer, looking up to reach his eyes. Dream was a tall boy – taller than him even – towering over Punz at six foot three. Dream was wearing a lime green hoodie with a black turtleneck underneath, and some casual jeans.

Dream waved at him, and Punz couldn’t help but smile. He was so cute.

(Punz chose to ignore his growing feelings. Just like the moon, he was content with admiring him from afar.)

The barista’s gaze slid to the other person beside him and promptly forgot about his professionalism. “Hello… other person.”

The other person wore a black tracksuit with white accents, and his ebony hair was swept to the side. Dark eyes twinkled at him in amusement, and Punz raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Drizzle,” the guy began, bumping Dream with his shoulder.

Drizzle. Really? Must be an inside joke.

“Am I really just the other person to you?” the guy continued, ignoring Dream’s hissed warnings. “Is that why you turned me down?”

Punz choked. “Wha–”

“You have so many people tripping over themselves to win your affections, but here you are; rendezvousing with the cute barista.” The guy feigned an air of hurt, pouting. “If you he’s your boyfriend, all you had to do was say so~”

“He’s not my...” Dream started protesting, cheeks aflame, while Punz just crashed like one of the ye olden days comms, all sound fading away as he tried to process what the other guy said.

“I’m sorry?” Like a wildcat to its prey, the guy pounced, grinning as he successfully trapped Dream in a metaphorical cage. “You mean you want to play field with me as well? You dog.”

The guy had a point, in a way. Dream does resemble a cute golden retriever.

“Illumina–” Dream interrupted, choking back a laugh. “That’s enough. Please don’t scare off my friend.”

Illumina pouted. “Oh, alright.”

“Sorry about him,” Dream said awkwardly, kicking his other friend in the shin. “No brain to mouth filter, this idiot...” He shook his head fondly.

“Ah...” Punz managed to pull himself together. “That’s alright. Where are you guys going by the way? If you don’t mind me asking… it’s the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform. I mean– not the first, but you know– never mind.”

Dream huffed at the reminder, his cheeks reddening a little bit, causing Illumina to look at them in equal parts of confusion and fascination. “Lumi and I are trying to speedrun Parkour Paradise.”

“We almost beat the current record,” Illumina said, reaching out and shaking Dream by the shoulders. “But Drizzle slipped and fell in the tundra section.”

Illumina then gave Punz a sly, conspiratorial wink. “I caught him though, so you could say that Dream–”

“Lumi, don’t.”

“–fell for me.”

Dream hid his face in his hands. The poor boy flusters so easily. “Fuck you.”

Punz watched their weird flirting-fighting with a lot of mild jealousy, his smile now strained.

– Punz’s Apartment, Hypixel, 1 Year Prior –

Dream has been making waves in the speedrunning community since last year, famous for the manhunts he played with his close friends, Sapnap Halo and George Lore. When he decided to join MCC, his fame only skyrocketed further.

Punz was proud of him for accomplishing so much at a young age. It was a long time since they last spoke to each other, and Punz understands. Academics takes a lot of your time.

But he honestly didn’t think that his friendship with Dream was strong enough for the newly graduated admin to give him an invite to his very first private server… but here it was.

He stared at the message on his comms. It included a contract for his… mercenary stuff. If he agrees, Dream was going to be his new handler and he was to be paid accordingly – the amount of money increasing steadily each time.

…

Well why not? His life was getting a bit boring anyway.

Time to spice things up a little.

– Dream’s Base, Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 1 Year Prior –

Working for Dream was not what Punz really expected.

First off, he gave fantastic benefits. He got paid weekly and got days off. Not to mention holiday bonuses. Dream was a brilliant employer, and Punz couldn’t be any luckier.

He could come and go as he pleased, as Dream essentially said that his job was to “do whatever the hell you want as long as you irritate Wilbur.”

(There was some bitterness in his words, and it made Punz wonder if they knew each other beforehand.)

Punz couldn’t believe that it had only been four months since he joined the server.

A lot has happened already.

(The chaotic TommyInnit and that bastard Wilbur Soot as a whole, the drug manufacturing that led to the creation of L’Manburg, the revolution, the election, JSchlatt himself, the Manburg rebellion that was currently happening right now…)

He made his way to one of Dream’s bases that were scattered across the server – a simple bunker built into a hill like some sort of modernized hobbit-hole.

Punz pressed a hidden button that was disguised as a stone, causing the pistons to open up the secret entrance and allow him inside.

“Dream?” Punz called out, poking his head into the room. “You here, buddy?”

“Right here, Punz,” Dream said from around the corner. He heard an Ender Chest being slammed shut before Dream walked out to properly greet him, clutching a bottle of concealer in one hand. His sweater was zipped up to his chin, which was an odd thing to do, considering that it was very hot outside.

“What’s the deal with your...?” Punz asked, gesturing to his outfit.

A furious blush took over Dream’s cheeks as he averted his gaze. The younger man chewed on his (delightfully pink) bottom lip, the epitome of embarrassment.

Punz waited patiently.

“I– uh… might’ve gotten drunk last night and… fucked him. Or rather– he fucked me but like– okay. I‘m over-sharing, shit. Sorry.”

Punz’s brain screeched to a halt. Right. They met up for some super-secret meeting last night. A super-secret meeting that led to the two of the faction leaders hooking up apparently.

“What?” he asked weakly.

Dream shook his head, finally gathering enough courage to meet his eyes. “Don’t ask. Please,” he murmured. His voice small. Vulnerable. The mercenary swallowed thickly.

“Okay,” Punz conceded. “I won’t then.”

Dream gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Help me put on make-up?” Dream asked him hopefully, making his way towards his room. “I need to make a public appearance and I don’t want anyone asking questions.”

Helpless as ever when it came to Dream, Punz trailed after him.

+++

Punz dragged the brush along Dream’s jawline. He tried not to stare too long at the dark marks along the admin’s neck, which trailed down underneath his shirt.

Schlatt really did a number on him, huh.

He ignored the jealousy that churned in his gut.

– Punz’s House, The Greater SMP, Dream SMP, 1 Year Prior –

Good friends don’t fantasize about their close friends.

But apparently Punz wasn’t a very good friend.

(The very image of Dream, loose-limbed and bleary-eyed and bruised and flushed and panting, was stuck in his mind and will not be leaving anytime soon.)

(Punz wonders if he would be able to get the same debauched reaction from him; with teasing touches and hot kisses on a warm summer night, he bet that Dream will fucking love it–)

Punz tossed and turned in his bed once again, his eyes screwed shut, pulling the covers to hide his burning face as he groaned in shame and defeat.

I’m going to Hell, aren’t I?

Punz had trouble sleeping that night.

– Dream’s Base, Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 11 Months Prior –       

Dream stared in horror at the little boy who appeared outside his front door.

Who is this kid, and why does he look like a mix of him and Schlatt?

Dream was pretty sure he can’t get pregnant. Mpreg be damned.

His eye caught the owl pendant sitting innocently on the boy’s chest.

...oh fucking hell.

+++

“Dream, bud?” Punz entered to yet another of Dream’s bases. This one was situated deep in a cave, far enough from the mainlands whenever Dream wanted a bit of privacy.

A few lanterns lit up the place, giving it a warm glow. A turquoise carpet, a small bookshelf, a few chests, a loveseat, and a bed were the only things Dream had placed inside.

Dream was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking anxiously as Ɛksdee himself sat on the loveseat holding… something. Whatever it was, it was clad in a deep blue cloth.

Punz made his way towards them. The bundle in Ɛksdee’s lap shifted, revealing the soft features of a young boy around the ages of three and four. The boy looked over to the mercenary curiously, eyes glowing softly in the lantern light.

Punz paused, staring.

“Dream…” Punz began in a faint whisper. “That’s a kid.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Dream hissed, his eyes a little crazed, and Punz feared that the younger man had truly lost it if not for the amused look Ɛksdee directed at his vessel.

“He looks like Schlatt,” Punz noted, his head spinning. “Except for his eyes. He’s got your eyes.”

Punz suddenly whipped his head to his friend and employer. “You didn’t get pregnant, did you? After that… night…?”

“I–” Dream stared at him like he was an idiot. “No.”

“Then how…”

“He’s a–” Dream waved his hands around aimlessly, casting a helpless glance towards the god. “Ɛksdee, you tell him.”

“A homunculus,” Ɛksdee answered promptly, carding a hand through the boy’s hair. The kid looked ready to hit the hay, nodding off every few seconds or so.

“Get some rest little one,” the god murmured. The boy obeyed, passing out immediately. Ɛksdee stood and moved to hand him over to Dream.

Dream panicked, but he took the kid nonetheless, holding him as if he was a fragile piece of glass. Punz took a seat beside him and scooted closer to get a better look.

“He has your freckles too,” Punz observed, missing the knowing look Ɛksdee directed at Dream, who blushed yet again. He looked up. “And homunculi are some sort of synthetic human, right?”

Ɛksdee nodded. “Precisely.”

Punz frowned. “I don’t think Dream practices alchemy.”

“I don’t,” Dream spoke up. “I tried once, and Professor Minci never left me in the labs without supervision ever again.”

“Then who could possible create him? I don’t think Schlatt does alchemy, either. That guy was practically made for the business world, so his interactions with people inevitably focused on getting what he wanted.”

Ɛksdee suddenly looked awkward. It was weird, and it suddenly made him look more humane.

“Walk with me, Punz,” the god commanded, sending Punz to scramble onto his feet. “We’ll be right back, Daydream.”

+++

“You know how Daydream manages to make people infatuated with him with just a glance?” Ɛksdee asked with a long-suffering sigh, his halos giving off a golden glow all throughout the cavernous ceiling. “He does not realize, but he has quite the effect on people. His sister, my companion, and I had fun disposing those with malicious intent.”

Punz shifted anxiously. Is Ɛksdee giving him a shovel talk?

“I’m not… sure what you mean…”

“You know damn well what I am talking about, Punz Wilson,” Ɛksdee said disapprovingly.

Punz cringed, taking a step back.

“He’s beautiful and smart and really, really pretty,” Punz confessed, the words spilling out of him like a broken dam. Damn you Ɛksdee. “And I like him very much.”

Ɛksdee stared at him. “At least you’re honest,” the god said with grudging respect. “But you look at him disrespectfully and I’ll gouge out your eyes. Understand?”

Fuck, it is a shovel talk.

“Yes sir,” Punz said stiffly.

Ɛksdee smiled serenely. “Good.”

“Why are we talking about Dream’s uhm… effect on people?”

“Shush. We’re getting there,” Ɛksdee replied pointedly. “Ah, no use in sugarcoating it. Basically, Lady Wisdom – er… ever heard of the term ‘brainchild’?”

“Yes…?”

“Well that happened,” Ɛksdee bluntly announced.

Punz’s brain had glitched out.

“What.”

…

“So, basically, Lady Wisdom is one of the people who got affected by the ‘Dream effect,’ as his sister oh so eloquently put it, and she melded her mind with Dream’s to create the boy’s consciousness. The ‘purest form of love,’ she says.”

“That’s creepy,” Punz whispered.

“And since Lady Wisdom does not have a physical form – she claimed that she is above such mortal matters – she… took some of Dream’s features and the last person he copulated with and…”

“…to the alchemy table she goes.” Ɛksdee clasped his hands together, then spread them as if to say ‘do you understand?’

“Oh,” Punz said lamely. “So that means, technically, Dream and Schlatt are the kid’s dads.”

Punz was beginning to feel a little light-headed.

“Yes,” Ɛksdee confirmed. “She considers these types of children gifts to the men she favors. And currently, Dream just so happened to be the brunt of her affection.”

“A persistent one, isn’t she?” Was this blasphemy? Punz was pretty sure this was blasphemy.

“Unfortunately,” Ɛksdee murmurs, staring at him intently. “Heɪtʃdee and I will be having a long talk with her.”

…

“Wait,” Punz said suddenly. “Children? You mean this has happened before?”

Ɛksdee inclined his head. “A couple of times.”

Punz threw his arms up in the air. “Fuck this, man. This is not what I signed up for.”

“If Dream asked you to stay, you would.” Ɛksdee’s tone was teasing, that bastard.

“That’s different!”

“You are lucky I like you, Punz Wilson. Not many people get to have that privilege.”

+++

“What are you going to name him?”

“Connor,” Dream said softly. “His name is Connor.”

+++

“Punz?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.” Anything for you.

“Don’t tell anyone about Connor. Nobody must know. I almost lost Techno to the Butcher Army’s clutches, I will not lose my son too.”

…

“I won’t. I promise. And you really don’t have to pay me for this.”

“...Thank you.”

Punz receives a stack of diamonds the next morning, much to his amused chagrin.

+++

“When Ɛksdee said Connor would grow up fast I didn’t think he meant it literally!” Dream cried out in frustration.

Punz ducked as Connor threw something towards him, which exploded in glitter when it impacted the wall. The five-year-old menace grinned at him – an eerie reminiscent of his father when he was younger – then bolted.

“Who gave the little shit a glitter bomb?”

“Language! I don’t know– I don’t own any of those!”

“Guess they were right when they said it took a village to raise a child.”

“Fuck.” Dream groaned; the sound reverberated in Punz’s ears. Punz wants to see him say that in a certain situation, preferably in a bedroom. “Where is Schlatt’s damn ghost? I’m going to exorcise him when I see him. He didn’t even pay for child support. I swear to god.”

Punz didn’t blink as he snatched Connor off the floor, the boy shrieking with gleeful laughter. “Ask Ɛksdee. He might know.”

Dream shot to his feet. “I forgot that was even an option, I have to go get him.”

Punz shooed him away. “Go. I’ll take care of Connor.”

“Where’s Papa going, Uncle Punz?” Connor asked, deep blue eyes shining with curiosity, little hands gripping Punz’s white jacket.

“He’s off to get your Uncle Dee, kiddo,” Punz informed him, pleased at Connor’s honorific for him as ‘uncle’.

(Although deep inside, the mercenary can’t help but crave for the boy to consider him his father too.)

(But alas, that was only a mere pipe dream.)

– Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 10 Months Prior –

“So,” Dream began, turning away from Punz as he clasped his hands behind his back. “You have been one of the only people that had– that had been on my side since... since the server started. And– and every time there’s a conflict, you’re always there to help...”

Punz could only smile softly. Contract or not, Dream will always have him by his side. “Of course, of course.”

“And you’re always there to have my back,” Dream continued, shooting him a grateful look. “And I know that I pay you, but still, you know– It’s a little beyond that, I would think.”

He was stumbling over his words, Punz can’t help but note the obvious. Dream‘s nervous. But for what? 

Punz chuckled, waving the thought away, and moved closer to Dream. “Oh yeah. We’ve definitely grown a strong alliance, I would say.” He placed his hands on Dream’s shoulders, prompting the younger man to look at him. “A strong... friendship.”

Dream stared at him in surprise, a light pink dusting along his cheeks, highlighting his coffee-colored freckles. He flusters so easily; it was such a beautiful sight to see. Punz understands why his younger self was immediately smitten by this boy. “I... yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Punz murmured, unconsciously reaching up to sweep a stray strand of hair away from Dream’s eyes. The younger man stared at him – almost shyly – before taking a step back.

...

“There’s a couple things that we should talk about, but... but one; I think that...”

Punz’s heart pounded in anticipation. Was Dream declaring their contract null and void? He really shouldn’t. Punz enjoyed working for him. It’s the most fun he has had in years–

“You should... not be on my side.”

Oh no. That’s even worse.

They stayed silent for a moment, with the mercenary contemplating what Dream had said.

Punz finally found his words. “Really?”

“Well...” Dream drawled. “You should act like you’re not on my side.”

And Punz was able to breathe a little easier. Oh.

“Because,” Dream continued, unaware of the mental flood he had caused inside Punz’s brain. “If you’re on my side, you’ll be in danger and probably before they take me out, they’ll try and take you out and then I won’t be there to help you and... that would not be good. Sapnap’s already after my head, I can’t have him attacking you too.”

Punz was... genuinely touched. No one has ever cared for him like this before (besides his parents and Rosy on occasion, but that’s not the point). “Dream, I...”

“If you’re not helping me and you’re not on my side, they have no reason to go after you.”

+++

“You can always tell me things and you can keep me updated–”

Sounds good to him. But there was one thing that’s been bugging him...

“So,” Punz said. “We’ll still be friends, though, correct?”

He had to make sure. He doesn’t want to lose whatever they have right now.

“Of course,” Dream said firmly, a tight grip on the mercenary’s shoulders. The admin was holding him like he was afraid he’d leave him too.

Punz would never.

“You’re essentially a spy.”

Punz could feel the tension drain away from his body at those words. A spy, eh?

That... that could work.

– Dream’s Base, Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 10 Months Prior –

“Son of a bitch actually did it, huh?” Schlatt murmured, glancing at his fling’s employee (friend? close friend? boyfriend?).

Punz was unresponsive, staring at the wall. His hands shook as Schlatt handed him a cup of coffee.

How ghost physics work, Schlatt had no idea. He can apparently phase through walls but can also pick up his young son and other objects with no problem at all.

“Tommy killed him,” Punz whispered faintly, his voice a little hoarse. “Tommy killed him twice and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Oh.” Schlatt hovered about awkwardly. The blond looked near tears, and Schlatt didn’t know what to do about it.

Internally, Schlatt wanted to leave him. He was never good at this ‘feelings’ thing. His unintentional apathy is what drove his (ex-)fiancé away after all. And in the business world, you need not to get your personal feelings involved lest you want people to take advantage of you.

Instead, Schlatt sat beside him in hopes of offering the mercenary some semblance of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Schlatt finally said after a beat.

Punz’s hands clutched the mug. He takes a sip.

He says nothing.

– Somewhere in the SMP, Dream SMP, 3 Months Prior –

Ɛksdee doesn’t know when Punz got infected by the Egg, but apparently it was for long enough because the mercenary had already lost sight of his little plan with Dream.

(As the Protector of the End, Ɛksdee rarely had enough time to visit the Overworld, so it was by pure luck that he managed to encounter Punz in the server’s mainlands after he checked up on George – one of Dream’s many requests, something that Ɛksdee was all too happy to fullfil.

And unlike Heɪtʃdee, he actually enjoys visiting the mortals. They were rather amusing sometimes.

His dear companion would blow a gasket when he finds out he had gotten close to the Nether Guardian’s vessel.)

Ɛksdee frowned, eyeing the crimson that thrummed through Punz’s veins with contempt. This would not do.

Punz flinched when the god touched his forehead, eyes wide with fear.

A few minutes passed in silence with Ɛksdee standing still before he moved his hand back.

Pulling a writhing ball of red something with him.

(It reeked of destruction and hatred and corruption and all sorts of wrong, and the virus’ frantic begging for mercy died out immediately when Ɛksdee crushed it with his hand.)

Punz passed out immediately, falling into the grass in a heap. His crimson-colored eyes now reverting back to its original ice-blue color. They stared sightlessly ahead. They were also glazed over, as if he had been crying.

The god sent the unconscious mercenary back to his home with a flick of his wrist.

“Daydream has entrusted you with his life, Punz Wilson,” Ɛksdee rumbled, looking up into the cloudy sky. He had to tell Heɪtʃdee about this.

“You have his heart, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. Please don’t play with it.”

+++

Back home, Punz slept soundly in his bed for the first time in months.

The seed for an escape plan had already been planted by Ɛksdee, now all Punz had to do was to make it grow.

Chapter Text

Hey guys. Luca here. I'm sure you've all heard the news. Technoblade has passed, and I don't know what to do.

I feel empty. I'm sure it will hit me in a few hours but right now I'm just... numb.

Techno has been a huge inspiration to me for over a few years now. Hearing the news of his condition back in August sent me to a panic, but when he posted that video with the rest of the SBI, I calmed down. I assumed he was getting better.

When he reached 10 million subs back in New Year's Eve, I was so happy for him. He finally achieved what he wanted ever since he started his career in YouTube.

I selfishly wish he could've stayed with us longer. The news of his passing was too sudden, and I can't imagine what it was like for his family.

I want to continue this fic in his honour. It's the least I could do for him. Although a part of me is telling me to end it out of respect.

I don't know anymore. Maybe I'll continue it, maybe I won't. I need some time to think.

– L.

Chapter Text

– Karl’s Library, Kinoko Kingdom, a Few Weeks Prior –

The sound of pen scratching on paper filled the room.

Kairos wrote in a hurry. The words of their newest expedition flashing through his mind. Karl’s consciousness was nestled comfortably between the god’s own, idly looking at their shared memories, replaying the scenes they witnessed together again and again. 

You know, Karl drawled, we could totally have this publish and get that bank, so I can finally buy Sappy a proper ring. Gods above know he deserves it.

Kairos merely hummed. As I told you before, I’m afraid we cannot publish this. It’s confidential information that only us, Lady Minerva, and my Overseers are privy to.

The human sighed. 

But I could have someone make a ring befitting of your fiancé, Kairos offered, flicking to the next page to continue a rather long paragraph. Himmel owes me a favor, and the jewelry he wears – as much as I hate to admit it – are rather stunning.

I’ll consider it, Karl audibly beamed. Thank you.

Kairos hummed again, reaching forward to dip their feathered pen in ink before he resumed their writing.

It was an odd feeling, Karl thought, being a god’s mortal vessel. It was like being strapped to a comet. He was the only thing tethering Kairos to the mortal realm – unless they were nature deities like nymphs and such, then they could simply just slink back to their domains to recharge.

Speaking of nature deities... Hey, Kairos?

Yes?

Isn’t Ɛksdee a nature god?

Sort of? I mean, since everything that lives in the End dimension is under his jurisdiction, and the fact that he feels the strongest there, you could classify him as a nature deity. Same with Heɪtʃdee and the Nether.

Who the fuck is Heɪtʃdee and who the fuck named you guys?

Kairos sends the human a flick of irritation. Don’t be rude.

I’m just saying, Karl argued. Not my fault their name is weird.

Kairos’ lips twitched to a smile. You are very insolent for a human.

Thanks, Karl said dryly. I try.

A comfortable silence encased the room. The scratching of pen on paper continues.

This went on for a few minutes.

But seriously, who is Heɪtʃdee?

Heɪtʃdee is Ɛksdee’s eternal companion. His other half, if you will, Kairos answered promptly. He is one of the three gods who signed a contract with Dream when this server was created. Ichor was invited, for Technoblade, but she never RSVP’ed.

Contract like a business contract?

It was a magically-binding contract, Kairos said. All divine beings that step foot in this server was to follow the “no-interference” rule unless given direct permission by the Admin. And since you lot threw the Admin in jail...

Kairos paused. If he listened closely enough, he could almost hear Himmel’s gleeful laughter chiming in the winds at the utter irony of the situation (seriously though, the Admin? The very individual in charge of this world? In prison? Surely you jest–). The God of Songs was a rather childish one, and the most mischievous of them all. He was most rebellious, causing even the unshakable Minerva to contemplate her life decisions.

Karl was silent. Dream made you, a god, to sign a contract?

He was very persuasive.

What. The poor mortal was confused, it was hilarious.

You can’t say no to those puppy eyes.

Is he pretty? Karl asked curiously, confusing the god for a moment. Right. Kairos was reminded that not everyone in the server had seen Dream’s face before. Ɛksdee’s mortal vessel was indeed extremely beautiful. He was something the mortals would call “hot”, and they all have Lustre to blame for that. The irritating love goddess enjoys stirring up conflict in the mortal realm every once in a while, rivaling Ichor’s attempts to instigate a divine civil war.

Kairos swore it was because of those damn light novels. The harem and isekai tropes have been getting quite popular recently, and the former may have had a hand in influencing her latest drama.

It was a sad way to go, in Kairos’ opinion. One of Lustre’s love arrows right in your heart, her mocking laughter ringing in your ears as you plummet down into the intoxicating feeling of love and lust.

You have a fiancé, Kairos reminded him sharply.

Doesn’t mean I can’t look, Karl half-heartedly protested. Nothing much to do while you’re in the saddle anyway.

Kairos was about to lecture him further when the library doors opened behind them, and a tired, familiar voice called out, “Karl?”

Your turn, Kairos said cheerfully, pushing Karl back to the front seat. I just about finished anyway.

Karl winced at the sudden, terrible headache he got when he regained control of his own body. One of the downsides of being a god’s mortal vessel. His lungs expanded, and he flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes, just to make sure all was well. Satisfied, he turned to his sleepy fiancé.

“Yeah, Sap?”

Sapnap frowned adorably, rubbing his dark eyes. “You’re still awake? It’s past midnight.”

Karl sighed. He felt bad for not giving his boy enough attention for the past few months, but Kairos... “I’m sorry, baby, but I got a little busy tonight.” 

Sapnap frowned again, and Karl felt his heart twist painfully.

As much as Karl was honored to help Kairos though, fuck them for taking him away from his fiancé for so long.

Karl stood to hug his fiancé, both young men unwilling to let go.

+++

My apologies, the god said once Sapnap left after a bit of coaxing from Karl, I wasn’t aware how much this would affect you and your lovers.

Just “lover” now, Karl thought grimly, putting away his writing materials. After knowing what Quackity did... He didn’t think he would ever forgive him.

He wasn’t the man Karl fell in love with anymore.

The god was silent.

+++

Karl laid down next to his lover. He pulled the blankets back up to cover them both, before moving to embrace Sapnap’s warm body.

Sapnap shifted. Deep blue eyes blinked at him in recognition. “Karl?”

“Hi, honey,” Karl murmured, pressing a kiss to Sapnap’s forehead.

Sapnap clutched at his multicoloured sweater.

“I miss him,” Sapnap admitted, his voice small. “I miss Dream. Gods, Karl, I miss him every day. Why is life so cruel?”

Karl was careful to choose his next words, knowing how fragile Sapnap could be after a confession as deep as this. “What brought this on, Sap?”

Sapnap shifted to wipe his eyes. Karl didn’t even realize he was crying. “I shouldn’t have told Dream I’d kill him if he ever escapes.”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean it,” Sapnap whispered, frantic, pulling away from him in distress. “Karl, I saw the state he was in–”

Karl reached out and gently cupped Sapnap's face, his expression filled with understanding and compassion. “Hey, listen to me,” he said, his voice soothing. “You were angry, hurt. It’s natural to say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment. Dream knows that, too.”

Sapnap sniffled, his eyes still wet with tears. “But what if he doesn’t understand? What if he thinks I hate him? What if he thinks I actually wanted to kill him?”

Karl’s thumb brushed across Sapnap’s cheek, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “You grew up together. Dream knows you better than anyone. He knows how much you care about him. And I promise you, Sap, he would want you to forgive yourself and find peace.”

“We’re not the same people years ago, Karl.”

“No,” Karl agreed softly. Ten years ago, Sapnap hated his blaze heritage. Ten years ago, Quackity still smiled freely. Ten years ago, Karl wasn’t hosting a god in his body. “We’re not. But you can at least try.”

Sapnap sniffled once more. “I’ll try. For him.” His voice steeled with resolve. “This Christmas, I’ll go visit.”

We might not make it till Christmas, Karl wanted to say, but didn’t.

Karl kissed his nose, trying to lighten up his mood. “You’re cute.”

Sapnap scrunched up his face. Bingo. “Really?”

“Yes,” Karl giggled, tangling their legs together. He holds him close. “Goodnight, Sap.”

“’Night.”

– Kinoko Kingdom, One Week Prior –

“Who’s there?” Kairos demanded, taking control once they sensed a foreign presence within the area. The aura of authority and power surrounded them as they prepared to confront the unknown presence in Kinoko Kingdom. This realm was meant to be a safe haven, and any intrusion was met with swift and decisive action.

Footsteps sounded, and the figure that emerged from the treeline, however, took them by surprise.

It was George. But there was something off about him… something… more. Not-George appeared lost, his gaze fixed upon his own hands as if they were unfamiliar to him.

Kairos, their curiosity piqued, cautiously approached their vessel’s elusive friend. As they drew closer, the realization hit them like a bolt of lightning. The blue-brown eyes that stared back at them held a familiar spark of timelessness that they haven’t seen in five centuries.

“Heɪtʃdee?” Kairos whispered, disbelief coloring their voice.

Heɪtʃdee looked up, and smiled. The expression looked strange on George's face, it was as if the god residing within him was unused to the many muscles of the human body.

Although humankind, Kairos thought, was far superior to the bambiraptor.

“Hello,” Heɪtʃdee said. His words were light, airy. 

Kairos couldn’t help but smile back. Their paths had diverged ever since they left Minerva’s council millennia ago, each taking on their respective roles as guardians, protecting their realms. Kairos for The Inbetween, and Heɪtʃdee with the Nether.

It was nice to see him again.

Of course, Ɛksdee had to ruin their moment by announcing his arrival in his trademark flash of golden light. Kairos squinted. Human eyes are stupidly sensitive.

Kairos then frowned at the offending individual. “A simple ‘hello’ would suffice.”

“Yes, yes. Hello, Kairos,” Ɛksdee waved them off impatiently. Rude. “How long do we have left?”

Straight to the point, as always. Where had all the propriety gone?

They supposed they couldn’t really blame him, his vessel’s life was on the line after all. Ɛksdee was notorious for staying with his vessels until the very end, even if it hurt him. Cornelius was one such example.

…And Karl, by Kairos instructions, led him to his own death.

“A few days,” Kairos answered. “The Eggpire is on the move right now. If they successfully get him before us…”

“It will be disastrous,” Heɪtʃdee said grimly. “The server would have to be shut down.”

“It would destroy him,” Ɛksdee stressed. Though the other two gods could not see through the enchanted XD mask, the agitated fluttering of his wings spoke volumes of the god’s worry. “I cannot bear to see that happen. Not again.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Heɪtʃdee soothed.

“There are wards on the prison, Heɪtʃdee!” Ɛksdee said angrily. “Sam is actively suppressing Daydream’s abilities. He should’ve stopped at one, but apparently he placed a sigil on every nook and cranny of that damn prison.”

Kairos scratched their head, a habit they picked up from Karl. Karl had such soft hair. “One wouldn’t be a problem for us, but for there to be so many in one place…”

“It’s like a piranha,” Ɛksdee described. “Easy to deal with if they’re alone, but near-impossible if many. I only managed to squeeze into his cell for ten minutes before it banished me.”

Kairos could feel Ɛksdee frowning.

“How do we do this then?” Heɪtʃdee spoke up. “I do not think Kinoko Kingdom has the resources to orchestrate an escape.”

“We won’t,” Ɛksdee said simply, his halos brightening a bit. He gave a mischievous little smile. “We’ll have someone do it for us. We will simply be following them. We’re technically not interfering.”

Kairos lifted their eyebrows. “What?”

“You see,” Ɛksdee began. “On the twenty-ninth of November–”

Heɪtʃdee’s eye twitched.

“November twenty-nine?” Kairos mused. “Why this date specifically?”

Kairos knew, of course. They aren’t the God of Moments and Memories for nothing. But they wanted to see what sort of excuse Ɛksdee cooked up with.

“Ɛksdee is bored and he wanted some entertainment,” Heɪtʃdee interjected, glaring at his eternal companion. Kairos tried not to smile.

“No I don’t,” Ɛksdee insisted, sounding much like a child who got caught with their hand stuck in a cookie jar.

“He enjoys watching Dream’s life like some sort of soap opera,” continued Heɪtʃdee, taking the chance to embarrass his companion. 

Ɛksdee fumed silently. You give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. You give him an opportunity to touch grass, and he makes fun of your perfectly flawless plan.

Kairos told themselves it would be inappropriate to laugh.

“It’s a great opportunity for all of my Daydream’s potential suitors to meet,” Ɛksdee defended himself, sounding miffed. “But that’s besides the point. The Syndicate, Technoblade specifically, has plans. We would be fools to not take the opportunity. Philza would surely recognize us.”

Heɪtʃdee sounded done. “Does it involve explosives?”

“Uhm. I am unsure. But I saw him returning with a stack of wither skulls the other day.”

“Gods above, why.”

“I saw Wilbur Soot crafting explosives in that clearing,” Ɛksdee offered, “if you want explosions.”

Heɪtʃdee made a face. “I do not like Wilbur.”

“I am quite partial to the mercenary boy myself,” Ɛksdee admitted, shamelessly.

“No comment,” Kairos rushed when the two looked at him for his opinion. 

My money’s on George! Karl says gleefully from their mind. He had been strangely quiet ever since the two arrived.

And he speaks, Kairos thought dryly.

Sorry, sorry.

“I have to go,” suddenly said Ɛksdee. His visage flickered, and Kairos understood. “It’s tiring to keep myself in the overworld for long periods of time without a host. I am glad you found yours, Heɪtʃdee, Kairos. Goodbye for now.”

“Alright,” Heɪtʃdee said. “Stay safe.”

Ɛksdee bowed slightly. “I will.”

And with those parting words, Ɛksdee disappeared in a golden flash.

“Show me around?” Heɪtʃdee asked after a moment of silence, turning to Kairos. “George requested to be asleep whenever I took control, so he cannot assist me much, most unfortunately.”

Kairos beamed, a bit of Karl’s mannerisms bleeding through. They took his hand. “Of course!”

It was the calm before the storm, Kairos thought. They hoped their plans go smoothly.

For the server’s sake.

Chapter Text

– Dream’s Base, Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 1 Year Prior –

“Do you want to keep going?” Schlatt asked carefully, letting his fingers pet soothingly over Dream’s face. His lips were slick with spit, the little minx.

Schlatt took great pleasure in kissing Dream’s lips until they turned red, relishing the strangled whimper the admin gave when he pushed closer, demanding.

Dream seemed shy, vulnerable even – a stark contrast from the normally cocky admin who radiated confidence wherever he goes.

Schlatt thought that either the alcohol lowered all his inhibitions or the talk of that made him all cute and flustered. A pink blush was all across the admin’s cheeks, up until the tips of his ears, and Schlatt idly imagined himself nipping at them before firmly pushing the thought away for later.

“Yes, please.” The answer was quiet, a near-silent whisper, but Schlatt had heard it loud and clear. He smiled, he had never seen Dream so pliant and polite before.

To see Dream act like this and still be considered as one of the most powerful and feared people in the server... was admirable, honestly.

Schlatt wasn’t an idiot. There was no way he’d pass up on the opportunity to spend a night with the prettiest person he’s ever seen.

And besides, since Dream asked so nicely, who was he to deny him?

+++

“When did you become such a pushover?”

Dream stilled. “Careful there, Schlatt,” he said tersely, a warning in his voice. “Just because you fucked me nice and hard last night–”

“Just sayin’.” The ram-hybrid shrugged nonchalantly. “Ever since the kid came along and brought his friends, you weren’t acting really admin-like, y’know? You gotta stop being such a people-pleaser once in a while.”

“I’m not,” Dream says immediately, offended. He doesn’t go out of his way to please people… does he? 

Schlatt raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Sure.” The president scoffs. “You’re more in denial than Soot was back in the day, jeez.”

“You knew Wilbur?”

“We were… friends. I guess.” Schlatt frowns at himself, thinking. “Back when we were kids, at least.”

Oh. “I see,” Dream says dumbly. He never mentioned you, he wanted to say.

“Well, I gotta go,” Schlatt said, wrapping a light blue scarf Dream insisted he’d take around his neck. “Before your little assassin gets here and castrates me.”

“Punz is harmless,” Dream argued.

“To you, maybe,” Schlatt agreed, smoothing down his pristine black suit as he stood up. “But to everyone else? Prime help them.” The ram-hybrid gives him a long, appraising look. “You’re lucky to have him.”

The expression on the his face cracked for a moment to show envy and hurt beneath.

Dream was confused for a bit, before he remembered that Quackity broke up with Schlatt just recently. They were gonna get married, if he recalled correctly, but then the duck called it quits for whatever reason so that he could run off with Wilbur fucking Soot.

Dream pushes down the memories of him . Better to lock it and throw away the key than face the bitter reality of life. He’s beginning to sound delulu, dear god.

“Keep him close, you hear me?”

And with those parting words, the president leaves, not awaiting a reply, leaving Dream alone with his thoughts, the Revival Book in his hand.

– Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 11 Months Prior –

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” The face of the one and only Dream fucking O’Malley was the first thing Schlatt saw when he slowly regained consciousness.

He was in limbo, Schlatt remembered, playing tong-its with the Mexican gentleman who sounded like his ex-fiancé and resembled his fling.

Said fling who revived him for some reason.

Shit.

He’s definitely in trouble.

His legs, particularly his thighs, felt a bit heavy, but Schlatt ignored what was causing that, and tried to focus on Dream’s face instead. What business does he have, pulling Schlatt away from his sweet death like this?

Dream clapped his hands together, looking far too delighted for comfort. “Now let’s talk child support.”

“What the fuck.”

Schlatt realized a little too late that the warm weight on his legs was Dream sitting on his lap. 

Double shit.

+++

Schlatt stared.

The child stared back.

“That’s not mine,” he denied. Nope, absolutely not, no siree Bob. “I’ll give you my bank account details, my black card, whatever, but that is not mine.”

“He is,” Dream hissed.

“That kid is five years old. Five. That night was just two months ago, and last I checked, we’re both men.”

The kid looked like him, Schlatt thought, feeling faint. How that was possible, Schlatt doesn’t know. The kid could almost be a carbon copy of him if it weren’t for the faint scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose and, his eyes.

Oddly enough, the kid had very distinctive blue eyes.

Schlatt stared questioningly at the mercenary standing behind Dream, who immediately went to explain himself.

Punz vehemently denied any relation to the child, claiming it was a complicated story.

Dream swatted at him. “The blue eyes are from me, you idiot. Mama’s eyes are the same. Ever passed a biology quiz?”

“To be fair, I’ve never met your mother before–”

“And you shouldn’t,” Dream agreed. “It would bring about the end of times. Now go say ‘hi’ to our son.”

“Let me go back to limbo, please.”

Dream just laughed at him. Cruel man.

+++

Connor won him over, of course. Very quickly as well. He is his father’s son after all.

Now Dream won’t have to feel guilty for getting Punz to babysit anymore – despite the mercenary protesting that he could handle the boy, and doesn’t mind spending time with him.

(Those words squeezed Dream’s heart in a good way.)

Just because Schlatt thought it’s okay to wham, bam, and thank you, ma’am doesn’t mean Dream does.

Being left alone to raise their son did not sit right with him, and Dream refused to let Connor grow up the way he did, so he just did what any good parent would do.

Schlatt’s reaction when Ɛksdee told him about Connor’s origins were hilarious.

“I thought your kind weren’t supposed to meddle,” Schlatt accused. 

“We aren’t,” argued Ɛksdee. Schlatt stared him down, unaffected by the god’s snippy tone. “But what am I supposed to do? I left the council millennia ago, I’ve no right to tell Minerva what to do. I can argue with her, yes, but that would be hypocritical of me. None of us are meant to interfere with mortals, and yet that’s all we ever do.”

“Of course,” Schlatt said dryly. He counts his fingers. “The Red Masterpiece, the Fall of Dayea Assembly–”

“All of which aren’t my fault.”

“Still.”

Doja was right, Dream sighed as he watched his guardian and co-parent argue, men ain’t shit.

Poor Punz was already dozing off in an uncomfortable position on the loveseat, thoroughly tired of their bickering. Connor was sleeping soundly in his room, last Dream checked. His boy was growing more and more every day, and Dream feared for his safety if the secret got out – not that Dream wanted to keep him locked up here, no.

His son had always been a curious little thing. He was bound to ask questions eventually. Dream and Schlatt might not be able to stop Connor from venturing out on his own when he’s old enough.

But, Dream considered, with the boy’s penchant for explosives, he supposed Connor can handle himself. Just not now, not when it’s been barely two months since his creation. His son was five for Ɛksdee’s sake.

Connor would understand when he’s older.

+++

“I will throw salt at you if you don’t shut up,” Dream hissed. Schlatt was being irritating, and Dream wanted nothing more than to hit his stupid, smug, translucent ghost face.

“Temper, temper, sweetheart,” Schlatt crooned, holding a sleeping Connor close to his chest – the boy tires very easily. “And do mind your language around our little boy, would you?”

Dream fumed.

+++

Domestic life with Dream and Connor (and Punz too, though Schlatt loathed to admit it) was… okay, surprisingly. It was a nice change in scenery, especially if you were surrounded by conflicts 24/7.

He accepted it long ago that he wasn’t just meant to be around kids. Case in point: the disaster with Tubbo during the festival.

He was a former alcoholic business man with severe attachment issues for fuck’s sake.

But the past few weeks were... enlightening to say the least.

The talk with Dream and Ɛksdee set a few things straight. Not that he had much of a choice, but he certainly wasn’t complaining about where that got him.

Punz gave him an appraising look one day, when he rummaged through the kitchen to surprise Connor with his favorite meal, when he noticed all the alcohol – even the ones reserved for celebrations – was completely gone.

“You stopped drinking?”

Schlatt smiled, genuinely, looking at Connor with fond eyes. “Well I do have a child now.”

It wasn’t an easy habit to break, but the threat of exorcism worked wonders. He still avoided the god whenever possible, though.

Another thing Schlatt liked about being Dream’s trophy not-husband, was the fact that he was able to evoke such envy on his little mercenary’s face.

It was his main source of entertainment most days.

…Yeah, Schlatt needs to get a hobby.

It was the Sunday before Christmas, and Dream looked exhausted after dealing with TommyInnit the whole day. Poor thing.

Good to see that Dream finally slipped away from all the conflict though, he really needs to relax once in a while.

So, like any great person, Schlatt resorted to teasing him, to help unwind some of the stress.

They bantered back and forth, with Punz’s occasional biting through an apple and the crickets outside serving as white noise for their little flyting session. Connor was asleep already, having eaten an hour prior to their arrival.

When you put two sarcastic assholes together in one room… interesting conversations are bound to happen.

“Don’t think you’re so special, Schlatt.” Dream gave him the stink eye. “You’re definitely not my first rodeo.”

Schlatt lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? Then who?” 

Dream shrugged, nonchalant, taking a sip from his rabbit stew. “Farfadox.”

There was a sound of choking. Then coughing. Both men turned to stare at Punz, who became as red as the fresh apples on the table. “El Diablo?!”

“I’m joking! I’m joking. We never went past the talking stage,” Dream said quickly, trying to soothe the coughing mercenary. Schlatt got the feeling he was lying though. “Er… I’ll go fetch one of your spare hoodies. You got this one wet.”

“Wait–”

Dream shushed him, and went to the guest room where the mercenary kept all his things.

Punz’s head landed on the dinner table with a thunk.

“How am I supposed to compete when he has standards as tall as El Diablo?” Punz wailed.

Schlatt can’t help it. He laughed.

+++

“Merry Christmas,” Dream spoke quietly.

“Merry Christmas,” Schlatt echoed.

Dream wouldn’t meet his eyes. He laced his fingers together in his lap.

“Thanks for, uh, being here. For Connor, and for me, I guess. I never knew my father, and, like, I’m glad Connor gets to grow up with one.”

Yikes. That’s deeper than he wanted to delve into. But Schlatt will try not to be an asshole for now.

“Even if I wasn’t, he’ll still have you,” Schlatt said softly.

“Yeah,” Dream murmured, sounding a bit self-conscious. “You’re right, but you know. Thanks.”

Schlatt smiled at him, just a small upturn of his lips, his golden gaze warm with an emotion Dream couldn’t quite decipher.

Dream wasn’t quite sure what to do, but he smiled in return, feeling strangely giddy all of the sudden.

Connor slept soundly in his room, unaware of what had transpired between his fathers.

– Dream’s Base, Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 10 Months Prior –

“You’re insane,” Schlatt hissed, stalking away from a hurt-looking Dream. Too bad. He’s had enough of his “for the greater good” bullshit. He thought Doomsday was the final shebang.

Apparently not.

“Jay, if you would just listen–!”

“No!” Schlatt threw his hands up. He points accusingly at the admin. “You are not locking yourself up in the vault. Think of Connor. Our son.”

“I am thinking of Connor,” Dream insisted, the look in his eyes was crazed and desperate. “Don’t you see? With a common enemy, the server will be united, no more wars, no more fighting – Connor will grow up with none of that – and I’ll finally have a family again.”

That… that hurt. Schlatt didn’t think it could get any worse than this. Wasn’t this family enough?

“No way Punz or Ɛksdee would let you do something as stupid as that,” Schlatt muttered angrily.

Dream was silent.

“Dream.”

…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Punz I can understand, he’s just as crazy as you are. But Ɛksdee?!”

“I’ll be fine!” Dream snapped.

Schlatt wanted to shake him. Dream can be so stupid sometimes.

“Have it your way then,” huffed Schlatt. “Connor will be asking questions, and I will not be holding back with my answers.”

“You wouldn’t,” Dream muttered disbelievingly.

Schlatt scowled at him. “He deserves to know that his papa is getting locked up for god knows how long.”

“It would only be for a few months, besides, I trust Sam. I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, huh?

Of course, Schlatt wouldn’t know about the injustices committed inside the prison, not until much later.

In the end, Schlatt didn’t tell Connor what actually happened to his papa. He couldn’t break his heart like that. Instead, he told him that his papa had an important meeting with the Admin Society and will be gone for a few months.

The boy’s confusion at his sudden departure was like twisting a knife deeper in Schlatt’s heart.

Months later, Ɛksdee’s visits got scarcer and scarcer, while Punz stopped visiting completely. 

Just what was going on in the mainlands?!

One day, Connor looked at his dad with wide blue eyes. “Was it something I did?” the boy asked, a tremble in his voice. “Is that why Uncle Punz and Uncle Ɛksdee won’t visit anymore? Did Papa leave because of me?”

Schlatt swore. Dream’s gonna get it when he gets out of that stupid box. Otherwise Schlatt would have to drag the idiot admin home by the ear himself.

“Oh, Connor…”

+++

Dad was hiding something, Connor knew it. Why didn’t he trust him? Connor can keep secrets too!

The boy sulked and turned in his bed. His hands clutched at the owl necklace his other parent gave him when he was created. Connor didn’t know much about her, just that she was a god and nothing else.

To be honest, Connor doesn’t really care about his third parent. He had his dads and his cool uncles, and that was enough.

…He missed his papa. Connor hopes he’s okay, wherever he is.

The moonlight streamed through the blinds of his window, and Connor could hear the crickets and the occasional chirp of a bird outside.

Connor knew the surrounding woods well enough by now; his papa insisted he explore and make friends with the animals to “hone his abilities,” or whatever that meant. It was the best. Connor liked playing with the foxes the most. They were cute.

He wants to go out. He needs a “breather,” as Uncle Punz would say. The boy glances at his clock.

11:26 p.m. it said.

Dad should be asleep by now.

Connor grabs his favorite blue jacket, and quietly creeps out of the house. He’ll be back before his dad notices.

+++

The air was cold, and Connor regretted not bringing a lamp.

The moonbeams barely reached down the forest floor. He could barely see.

His hand bumps into something prickly as he felt his way around the trees. Ow. He squinted, trying to make out the shape.

Roses, Connor thought, papa’s favorite.

Carefully, he takes one out of the bush. The petals were soft, and red, if Connor was correct. He held it up, inspecting it using the faint light. It was pretty.

He puts it in his inventory to keep it fresh, just like his father taught him.

Connor moves forward.

Wait. That cave wasn’t there before.

A figure emerges from the mouth of the cavern. They were tall, and covered head to toe in a hooded cloak. In one hand was a shimmering purple pickaxe, the other held a giant sack filled with different metals, mainly gold.

The stranger tilts their head, searching.

Connor stills as curious yet kind eyes landed on him.

“This place is not safe for a little boy like you,” the stranger says, concerned. Familiar green eyes glowed softly through the darkness of their– his hood. 

Connor took a deep breath, lifted up his chin, and stared him down – just like he saw his dad doing whenever someone says something he doesn’t agree with, usually Uncle Punz.

“It’s okay, mister,” Connor said politely, just like his papa taught him. “I know my way around.”

“Oh really, little blue riding hood?” The stranger chuckled, not unkindly. Connor thought the nickname was stupid. “Alright then.”

The stranger effortlessly hauls the sack over a shoulder. He must be really strong!

“I’m going home now. You should too. Goodbye, kiddo.”

“Bye, mister,” Connor said. The stranger turns and leaves.

Connor watches him, until his silhouette fades away from the fog.

Connor definitely wouldn’t tell dad about what he did. The man would freak out.

+++

Seeing a little child in the server was strange, Foolish thought, especially when said child had no previous records of existing in the server logs.

Her symbol was on the boy though, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised. 

But those eyes…

Nah, that was probably just a coincidence.

Still, it’d be nice to have a nephew – even if they’re one of hers.

– Dream’s Base, Undisclosed Location, Dream SMP, 1 Month Prior –

Schlatt woke up to incessant knocking at the front door. His first thought was fucking finally.

Dream’s not gonna escape the earful Schlatt prepared for him. Not if he could help it. Weaponizing Connor’s puppy eyes was the best thing he ever did.

He threw the door open.

And slammed it shut almost immediately.

“Hey!” a female voice snapped from the other side of the door, irritated. “Open the door, you old goat!”

Schlatt’s fumed. He is a sheep for gods’ sake! Despite his instincts yelling otherwise, he opened the door.

The face that greeted him was decidedly not Dream. Instead, a teenage girl around Tommy’s age glared at him, unimpressed.

“Who the hell are you?” Schlatt demanded.

The teen looked at him like he was an idiot. “Take a guess.”

Schlatt looked at the eye-sore shade of her hoodie, then at the smiling mask secured on the side of her head. Is this…?

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Dream’s sister disagreed. She side-stepped him and entered the house. “Where is my nephew?”

“Sleeping,” Schlatt said, a bit annoyed. “He likes to sleep in.”

“Okay.” Dream’s sister sat on the couch. Schlatt hurried after her to make sure she didn’t break anything. “Good to meet you, not-brother-in-law.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Dream’s sister frowned. “Didn’t you guys literally–”

“How did you know about that.”

“...Nevermind. Anyway.” She twirled a fork in one hand. Where did she get a fork? “Does Dream talk about me?”

“He only mentioned you in passing,” Schlatt offered. The teen almost looked offended.

“Ouch, bro,” she muttered to herself, petulant. “Ugh. Tommy calls me Drista, if you’re wondering.”

The mention of Tommy made his eye twitch. “You’re not gonna tell me your real name?”

The smile she gave him was all teeth. “If I tell you, you’d laugh.”

Schlatt rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “What are you here for, Drista?”

“Ɛksdee brought me up to speed,” Drista whispered conspiratorially. “And your plan of dragging Dream back by the ear? I wanna see it. Plus, I wanna go bird hunting with Techno. Maybe build a creeper farm. And there’s this other thing I wanna do. Gotta need a shovel for it though.”

Schlatt blinked. How does the last three pieces of information correlate with the first?

He decided to ignore it for the sake of his sanity.

“Bird hunting?” he asked dubiously.

Drista raised her fork, grinning. Yeah, he could see Dream in her face – from the features right down to their personalities.

“Bird hunting,” she confirmed. “Do you mind if I stay? I wanna meet Connor. Oh, one more thing – the kiddo can come if he wants.”

“You are not bringing my son into a high-security prison.”

Chapter Text

So... it's been a while, huh?

Hi guys 😭😭 I've been actually planning to finish this, like, last year, but you know, I got really busy with academics, and when I finally got time to relax I either play Genshin and Star Rail or write about something else. Then shit happened, if ykyk 💔

This fic will be discontinued. If anyone wants to continue it, you're free to do so. Honestly, I just stayed in the DSMP fandom mainly for the Dream Team, so the mirrored fic I will most likely continue when I get the motivation (I am still very much a 📚 stan). The Brighton Crew annoyed the shit out of me before, they still annoy the shit out of me now, and I really have no interest in writing about any CCs aside from DTeam (and Munchy) anymore and I will not force myself to. I am not ashamed of my DSMP roots, and you shouldn't be too. I genuinely had fun during that time, it was one of the few things keeping me sane during the pandemic.

Anyway, as you can see, I've been writing some fics for Honkai: Star Rail and Genshin Impact, so if you're into those fandoms, I hope you guys find them as interesting as my DSMP fics. I have a lot of ideas for my JingHeng series, and I want to write Venti-centered fic soon and finish the c!Dream gets isekai'd into Teyvat and HSR serieses. I've also been getting into Love and Deepspace, so I'll probably write something about Sylus and Rafayel sooner or later.

That's all, I suppose. Glad you guys stuck around o7 and I hope some of my newest fics would interest you as well.