do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe
aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting
tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D
“I didn’t know you knew sign.”
Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.
Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.
Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.
The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?
We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.
Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.
DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.
You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.
Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.
Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?
Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.
By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.
“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”
“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.
Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.
He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?
“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”
Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.
Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.
“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-
“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.
And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.
He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.
For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”
Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.
or a short fic about the banter between c!techno and c!dream revealing something unintended that i wrote for @alterdnbweek
The eggnog was deceptively strong. It was rich and creamy, the cinnamon and nutmeg almost masking the taste of the brandy. Techno thought it was the best eggnog he’d made but it had made his head fuzzy and he’d only had one admittedly large mug of the stuff. Dream was on his second mug, hands wrapped around the blue ceramic, his missing fingers letting some of the floral pattern peek through. The flush on his cheeks told Techno that it was likely the brandy was hitting him harder.
It’s a good thing he’s already on the floor, thought Techno and then giggled so hard the sip of eggnog he had just taken went down the wrong way. He coughed and sputtered.
Dream looked at him and asked, “W-what’s wrong with you?”
Judging by the glassy look of concern on his face, it was meant as a genuine question but the wording set Techno off again though this time there was nothing to choke on. He cleared his throat and thumped his chest with his fist before speaking.
“Nothin’, Dream. I choked but thanks for askin’.”
Dream blinked slowly and glanced down at his mug.
“You choked? On—On liquid?”
“Listen, Dream—”
Techno paused and drained the last of his eggnog then debated about getting up for another cup. It was late and something warm and sweet would be nice before bed.
“Techno!” On floor, Dream was staring at him expectantly. He had sat up a little, the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders slipping off. “What?”
The chair creaked as Techno rocked back in it. With the fire and soft light of the lanterns and the even softer pillow behind his head, it would’ve been easy for him to drift off.
“I’m gonna be honest, man, I have no idea what I was gonna say,” he admitted.
Dream rolled his eyes and stretched his good leg out. The room of the cabin was small enough that he was just able to kick Techno’s hoof with his fur-covered foot.
“Oh my god.” The words were broken up by a silent hiccup. He kicked Techno again but there was no force behind it. A lopsided grin was on his face. “You’re so annoying.”
Nudging Dream’s foot with his hoof, Techno laughed. He knew Dream meant it – he was annoying him – but it was the same kind of annoying as eating sour candy. It might make your mouth pucker but you still liked it. He watched Dream empty his mug and set it aside, shoving it half under the bookshelf. Techno snorted.
“Says you,” said Techno, drawing out the last word with heavy emphasis.
The offended look on Dream’s face was completely predictable and he kicked Techno one more time, stretching out as far as he could and slipping a little in the process. His cheeks turned even pinker. Techno had the passing thought that it was a good look on him.
“Yeah, well, I’m—I’m not even that annoying. You’re the one who choked on a drink like an idiot.”
It was a fair assessment and at any other time Techno might have said as much. He would’ve agreed and Dream would’ve fluffed up, believing that he had won the argument even though they both knew that Techno was giving him an out. But the warm, fuzzy feeling that had settled on Techno’s thoughts had moved to his chest and being flustered really was a good look on Dream. He reached behind him, grabbed the pillow he was resting on, and tossed it at Dream. It hit him square in the chest.
“Bruh. This guy is gonna leave his dirty dishes all over and say he’s not annoyin’.”
Dream looked over at the mug. He pushed it further under the bookshelf before picking up the pillow and throwing it back at Techno. The eggnog had dulled Techno’s senses and while he technically caught the pillow, it still smacked him in the face.
“You’re literally the worst and—You snore, like, all time, Techno,” he said, face twitching as he desperately tried not to smile.
Techno spun the pillow between his hands, one eyebrow raised, before throwing the pillow at Dream again. He half-heartedly tried to block it with one arm.
“And how d’you know I snore, Dream? Hm? Is it because I’ve so graciously let you stay with me and sleep in my bed even though I know you wipe your nose on the blanket?”
Dream’s ears flattened and his nose twitched furiously. He buried his face into the pillow for a moment.
“Oh my god! What is wrong with you, Technoblade! I—I hate you.”
He said Techno’s name in a specific, lilting way that finally made Techno blush and his stomach go all fluttery. Techno laughed. The pretending to be annoyed had been abandoned by Dream and he was smiling without holding back. The flames from the fireplace were reflected in his eyes.
“Nah,” said Techno, “you love me.”
The smile on Dream’s face lessened, became more serious, and he was quiet for a moment as he stared at Techno. It seemed like he didn’t realize he was staring. Techno almost said something but Dream blinked and spoke first.
“I do.”
Once the quiet words were out of his mouth, Dream looked surprised he had said anything. It could have been the eggnog talking. It was the eggnog talking because Techno knew Dream well enough to know he wouldn’t have said anything sober, knew him well enough to know it wasn’t a joke even if the suddenly sad and embarrassed look on his face didn’t give him away. Dream looked away. His eyes were wet and Techno also knew it wasn’t from the alcohol.
The moment Techno tried to stand, the brandy went to his head and he almost pitched forward. He managed to right himself at the last second. He took one step forward then dropped to the floor ungracefully next to Dream, one leg tucked awkwardly underneath him. It startled Dream and he jumped slightly as he turned to look at Techno, mouth partly open. He was going to say something. That was another thing Techno knew. The blush had faded until his cheeks were a soft pink dotted with freckles.
“Y’know what, Dream?”
Dream closed his mouth and waited. It would be too much to kiss him even if Techno badly wanted to kiss him. If he kissed him now, they could write it off as too much eggnog on a winter night. He put his hand on the back of Dream’s head, fingers threaded through his hair, and pulled him close until their foreheads were touching.
“What?” asked Dream, tense.
His breath smelled like cinnamon. It was hot on Techno’s face.
“Same.”
It took Dream a moment. This close, Techno could feel the exact moment Dream fully processed what he was saying: it was a small hitch of his chest and a gentle exhale. Dream put a hand on Techno’s knee, fingers clinging to the fabric of his pants.
“Oh my god,” Dream said again but it was soft, giggly. “You’re—You’re so lame.”
Techno grinned. He pressed his snout against the side of Dream’s head.
“Maybe, maybe, but what does that say about you?”
Blindly, Dream grabbed the pillow with his other hand and smacked Techno right in the side of the head with it. This close and with the awkward angle, it hit him as well but he didn’t seem to care. He was laughing. The hit wasn’t forceful – it couldn’t be – but Techno made an exaggerated ‘oof’ noise and let himself fall to the side, taking Dream with him, arms wrapped around him.
They were both laughing.
ICE raids are starting on Tuesday in Chicago.
Yell “ICE” and “LA MIGRA” to disrupt them. Notify people and use your privilege as a citizen to make ICE’s job as difficult as possible.
Fascism has been here. It’s just loud now. Time to be loud too.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TALK ABOUT YOUR IDEAS I WANNA HEAR THEM I DONT EVEN NEED ART FOR IT
Wuwww, I will cry. Thank you for your enthusiasm!
Ok, ok, I will have to gather my thoughts, soooo I am thinking, the syndicate = supernatural investigation agency and they are all supernatures. So it is just like those kind of investigation stories where you follow them through one case to the next.
You have em duo who lead the syndicate;
- Techno = immortal blood god
- Phil = deliverer of death / angel of death
- Niki = siren
- Ranboo = enderfolk
And so I have the thought that they caught wind of a museum that hold supernatural artefacts. Not the fake kind, but genuine, functioning artefacts and that is a curious case in itself right? Imagine like totem? Elytra? Maybe even a sculk? But they are just coexisting? In this museum? Heck, there may even be world connecting artefact, like nether portal, just chilling somewhere in this museum that mortal can just come and visit. And it is suspicious.
A coincidence though, when the syndicate receive a letter requesting the agency to send help, as bodyguard or to investigate a recent break in. Curiosity drives them (not because they are poor, definitely, nooo) to accept the request and they are able to meet the guide / scholar in charge for the museum; Cornelius and it is much later when they met the owner of the museum, who is actually a supernatural as well; Karl, the gummy time traveller who just happened to like collecting artefacts during his travel.
I am still thinking about how to plan the actual mystery but stay tune. *finger crossed*
But a point I want to keep is that Cornelius has no idea about the supernatural and is just an expert when it comes to maintaining / suppressing the artefacts, so Techno and co are just tiptoeing around him as they try to solve this very supernatural caused mystery. However, they will soon realise that Cornelius is harbouring his own secret, though he himself might not know about it!
Also, I can’t leave you without an art soooo
I know most people don't care about anything unless it has to do with the U.S. but can we please start talking about the Canadian election.
Please don't vote for Poilievre. He's basically the Canadian Trump and plans to put in place laws that harm trans youth, and lots of other shit.
Please vote istg this is the only way anything will get better. Poilievre has been kissing millionaires and billionaires asses. He'll make life even harder, and he loves Trump.
Reblogs are appreciated, especially if you aren't Canadian.
Okay okay so Killerbunnies gets to live in my jead rent free I love the sibling dynamic one of the funniest fucking things I like to imagine is killerbunnies siblings ergo Clown is *also* a rabbit. He's hiding Something in that jingly ass hat of his and it's fucking rabbit ears. Kaboodle and Branzy know this. Nobody else.
.
Writing prompt: Techno absentmindedly touches Dreams hair (commenting on the length or something). And poor touch-starved Dream makes a noise and when Techno realizes what happened he offers more. Dream ends up falling asleep, getting the first good sleep he's gotten in a long time.
TW: everything pandora's box related, torture tw, amputation of sheep horn tw, crying, touch starving,
Techno had been surprised by the sound which escaped Dream's mouth. Both their eyes had been closed and it had been a silent day in their shared cell. Not many words had been uttered but both men had been okay with it.
~~~~~~
A few moment after Techno had entered the cell and the first few tensions had left, he offered Dream his cloak, after seeing the other man trembling without any signs of stopping. Dream's shaking didn't really stop, especially not in his hands but since he could bury his hands into the soft fur of the cloak now, they had something to keep themselves busy with.
Techno had taken in Dream's appearence and a cold shudder ran through his body even though it was unbearably hot inside the cell, even for a piglin hybrid. The first thing he had noticed was the shoulder long white hair, which Techno had definitely been blond before, not white. Between the hair were horns which had different length. He only noticed then that one of the horns had been broken off violently, leaving sharp and ragged edges behind. Techno hadn't known about Dream's sheep hybrid status, he doubted anyone had. Sheep hybrids were stereotypically quite and docile beings, more calm and submissive in their actions. Often not taken seriously by humans and other hybrids. It made sense that Dream had tried to hide his hybrid side behind the hood of his.
Dream always had a thin frame, especially compared to his own bulky piglin brute frame which always towered over people, making them seem small in comparison. But Dream had never seemed small when standing next to Technoblade. He had always held his head high, an aura of confidence whirling around him. Untouchable. Undefeatable. Dream now was... differently. Slouched posture, even more than Tommy. But Dream's bad posture was definitely of different nature than Tommy's. Dream slouched because he was afraid of someone raising a hand against him, flinching at the smallest sound, trying to make himself as small as possible, leaving only a small surface which could be attacked behind.
Dream's clothes were ripped and Techno guessed that for the entire 5 months he had been imprisoned, he never had the chance to change clothes. From the smell which came from the sheep hyrid, he probably never had the opportunity to take a bath or wash himself too. Scarily enough, most of the smell was coming from Dream's wounds, clearly infected and baldy, or not at all, treated. It seemed like bandages were covering every inch of Dream's body, only leaving out some part, but even those weren't free from scars or open wounds. Dream just wasn't allowed any more bandages.
~~~~~~
The whine which had left Dream's mouth started Technoblade. Both were leaning against the hot obsidian wall, Dream curled up in Techno's coat, and against the body of the piglin hybrid. Technoblade had mindlessly scatched the scalp of Dream gently mumbling something under his breath.
"If you keep this up, your hair will be as long as mine." He had commented and the second his fingers touched Dream's skin, the whine espcaped his mouth.
Techno's hand stilled and Dream ripped his eyes open, breathing stopped. Even beneath the bandages, Technoblade could see the redness creeping up Dream's neck. Techno chuckled and his hand returned its previous motion. He could feel how Dream tried to fight with his body on what to do.
Technoblade wondered when Dream had ever got some touches without having to fear of them being negative. He didn't need to have telepatic powers to know what had happened inside of the prison. Wounds like the ones on Dream's body didn't just come from a person sitting in solitary confinement. Someone had inflicted those wounds onto Dream and Techno didn't have to guess long to find out. It had been one of the first names Dream had yelled at him once he arrived.
Quackity.
Technoblade had never quite liked Quackity, for obvious reasons but not even he had guessed that the duck hybrid had been capable of something like that. He was probably also proud of himself for breaking the big bad villain Dream.
The big bad villain Dream, who was leaning aginst him, curled up in his cape to stop his trembling form. The big bad villain Dream, who couldn't stand up for longer than a minute because the pain of his broken legs was just too big for him to handle. The big bad villain Dream, who flinched at every movement, spiralling deep into his mind, seeing enemies which weren't there, begging invisible bodies to leave him alone, that he is sorry, that he will be good. The big bad villain Dream, who accidentally called Technoblade "sir" and freaked out afterwards, scared of punishment for not calling him "sir" sooner.
Techno could see through all of the titles Dream voluntarily or involuntarily carried. Moster, villain, freak, tyrant, dictator, ...
Person.
Because after all this time, Dream was still a person. A living being, more complex than any title his enemies could give him. There were sides of Dream no one had ever seen and Techno knew that Dream hadn't been a good person, hell, Techno hadn't been a good person. No one on this server had been a good person in a long, long time.
But laying next to him, was Dream.
Not the tyrant. Not the monster. Not the villain.
Just Dream.
Dream who whined at a simple nice touch, too touched starved to say anything.
It was just Dream, who had sobbed into his hands, seconds after he started writing the book for him, because his hands wouldn't stop trembling, leaving his handwriting illegible.
Just Dream who fell asleep cuddling Technoblade, who had scratched his head for a few minutes.
Just Dream. And just Technoblade.
Immortal Techza who decide to pass on and reincarnate so they can meet each other for the first time again and fall in love once more (because Techno, the romantic he is, has a theory that they would find each other on every life that he really wants to test) and they write all their memories and secrets in a bunch of diaries and manuscripts that they hide all over the world so they can find them and have a fun little treasure hunt their next life
They tell no one of the diaries, except their one immortal friend Dream, who is also a romantic so he loves the idea, but immediately sees the flaw that languages can go extinct and paper is very fragile, so he dedicates his next idk how many thousand years to finding the maps and hunting down every single book and carefully archiving all of them and writing academic papers on every artifact and the language so Techno and Phil can actually read their stupid 1000 year old love poems and not just have an untranslatable piece of ripped up paper
On that note, there's a lot of angst in Phil's attempts of reviving Wilbur, specially if he ever confronts Dream about it.
Dream has Wilbur's soul. He can feel it leaning against his heart. (It feels weird please stop doing it). He will not let go of it, not until Wilbur starts scratching to get out. Wilbur has chosen this, this faith this life and this after life, and Dream will not let Phil take his choices away from him, even in his death.
Please forgive me for spamming you with likes, I just really enjoy reading blogs
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