@nekioe

Ranboo couldn't breathe. He had fallen into a spiral for seemingly no reason, and now he couldn't get any oxygen in, no matter how hard he tired to follow the square breathing technique Techno had shown him.

Ranboo

"No no no please I can't I cant-"

The walls were closing around him, obsidian burying him alive-

Ranboo listen

Old wounds opening once more, all alone but it felt like he was back in New Lmanburg, screaming and accusations of things he doesn't remember doing-

"I swear I tried so hard I didn't mean it please-"

RANBOO

The next gasping breath he took felt like it was ripped out of him, tears of relief as his form was changed against his will, the shift enough to snap him out of the spiral, like shoving your hands in ice.

Ranboo slumped into the floor, his new wings covering him, soft and fluffy and grounding.

Ranboo

No nevermind, back to panic time. Because that was Dream's voice and Dream was supposed to be in prison and no one was supposed to know about the panic room-

But the room was empty.

"Dream?"

Ranboo called out, his voice rough, cracking embarrassingly

Yes?

"I- Where are you?"

He leaned against a wall,pushing himself up into shaky legs

I'm right here

Dream's voice cooed back, sounding completely directionless. There was something about it that made Ranboo's shoulders loosen, and he feels a bit guilty about it. Dream might be their God, but he's also Dream.

"Here where? Y-You're supposed to be in prison."

Ranboo turned around, covering himself with his wings as he searched the small room. There isn't much to it, there shouldn't be anywhere for Dream to hide in, yet he can't find him. He doesn't even have a couch in here!

I am in prison.

"What? Then. Oh void I have actually gone insane"

A chuckle sounded on his head, and Ranboo felt like something had nudged his mind, a pyscic equivalent of a cat bumping it's head against his forehead.

No, I'm in your head. Don't have another panic attack.

"Wha- How? Why?"

He keeps spinning around, scouring the room. Somehow he would be more relieved if he found Dream now.

You were praying

Dream starts, pausing awkwardly for a moment

Very very loudly

"No I wasn't! I was-"

Panicking. How do you think animals pray to me Ranboo?

"Oh."

Yeah

They fall into silence and Ranboo sits down again, still shaky and unsteady.

It does feel better to not be alone tho. To have the quiet reassurance of someone else with him, even if it's Dream and even if he's not really here.

So... what happen?

"It was... nothing."

It didn't feel like nothing. Ranboo you have no clue how loud you were.

Ranboo squeezed his eyes closed, hiding his face in his hands. Void, this was his personal hell.

"I guess," he hesitated, fluffing up his wings and curling up further under them as he hid his face in his knees, "I've been overwhelmed lately I think? Which is stupid because all the wars are over because- uh."

Because I'm in prison?

"Yes! Or at least they were supposed to be. But everyone is so tense and there's all these politics and ugh! It's supposed to be better now! But it's so scary all the time"

That sucks buddy

Dream's voice had a tilt of dry humor and bitterness that Ranboo didn't really get

I don't know, go take a swim about it? Get away from all this shit?

"I can't swim Dream, I'm an enderman hybrid!"

Of course you can, just-

And then Ranboo was falling over, barely catching himself before he face planted the cold obsidian as his wings and legs dissappear, being replaced with a tail.

"...I'm a seal."

Laughter rang in his head once more, and Dream let go of his form, the tail staying just a few seconds more before splitting back into his normal legs

You're a seal

"And I can just. Do that. And jump into the ocean. And get no burns"

Yes, why would you?

"Well, because I'm an enderman-"

You are. Until you're a seal. And then you're not.

"Oh."

All the response Ranboo got was a small wave of fondness and the mental equivalent of an eye roll. He stood once more, leaning against a wall as he made his way out of the panic room.

From there he walked straight to the ocean, feeling a sticky mix of terror and wonder as he reached the shore.

Dream had left him when he left the panic room, but he once more reached for the god, shaking as he reached the waves bobbing gently against the ice.

With a leap of faith Ranboo jumped in, squeezing his eyes shut as he sank.

Swim

And Ranboo did, opening his eyes and sliding across the water, kept warm by the fur scattered across him. His skin did not burn.

Hi, it just stuck in my head

Dream is a fledgling, so he is dependent on Phil's blood.

Feeding is a little ritual where they get nice and cozy in the nest (THEIR nest), Dream usually sits really close, wanting to be held and pulled into Phil's lap (Phil does this, his fledgling needs to be kept safe and hidden from the world). Dream is covered with dark wings, and feels like he is melting into safety.

Dream feeds from Phil's shoulder/neck, which is a bit unusual for relationship sir/fledgling, usually fledgling feeds from the wrist, which is still intimate but not THAT provocative. (Phil is just old, okay? He feeds the fledgling in an old tradition that many don't remember anymore. So stop looking at him weirdly, respect your elders).

Techno stands near the door, facing the nest and windows. He is protective of his cute chosen mates, he likes to watch them get close. (Also possessive Philza is hot, and Dream's cloudy eyes that periodically flicker through the dark feathers awaken instincts in him that scream at him to take care of his mates, go into the nest and hug them.)

I blame you for getting into my brain with the vampire au. And I really love all your works

Ps: Eh, I'm still using the translator, so forgive me if some of the words are weird or sound wrong.

You're in my head & making things even better

i have two very strong mental images for the vampire au:

dream feeding from philza. i did imagine dream feeding from phil's neck, and the idea that that's unusually intimate for their relationship is SO GOOD. i imagine dream so desperate and hungry and phil so willing to provide for him. talking gently to him, relaxed and unbothered as though the feeding doesn't hurt a bit. his hands gentle yet possessive on dream's back, helping him through the waves of raw need, shushing him if he goes too quickly. reminding him that he can take his time-- phil isn't going anywhere. dream whines and writhes. (i read "a long time dead" recently, where vampires would sometimes orgasm during a feed, especially if they aren't used to being so excited for a meal. just... completely untouched. take that as you will.)

philza finding a half-dead dream, in desperate need of blood. phil cradles him and basically impales his neck on dream's fangs while the boy is too weak to properly bite him. he prays that dream's instincts will kick in and that at least some of his blood will make it down dream's throat.

play fight

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.

Rivals Duo Prompt Week

Day 4 : Thawing Out / Beginning

Have a brainrot that has been stuck with me for a while now, since it is soon to be February and you know I can only stay away from creating new AUs for so long:

Please Consider, cupid!Dream that is very dedicated to his job of matchmaking and the best at hitting all the KPIs, maybe he even gotten the best worker of the year award but he is oblivious to anyone’s love for him.

Like…

Dream: your strategy of showing love by giving matching gifts is really helping with my most recent match! Thank you!

Techno who has given at least a few matching rings/accessories: …you are welcome…

.

Dream: truly, the road to true love is via one stomach!

Farfadox who has been making food for Dream: …

.

Dream: from friends to lovers! The most natural progression!

Sapnap: … I am right here

sanctuary

living on the edge of the frontier, techno is used to many things wandering onto his land. that includes dream, an outlaw who is looking for some help and a place to hide.

rating: teen & up characters: technoblade, dream tags: western au, tending to injury, blood, alcohol

written for @nekioe for the @rivalsduogiftexchange! i hope you enjoy! <3 <3

The horse’s head hung low to the ground, sniffing the ground but making no move to nibble on the grass that poked out stubbornly from the dirt in sparse clumps. It was a white horse, grey on the nose and lower legs, and it wasn’t Techno’s horse. He stood in the doorway with his tin mug of coffee in hand, staring at the horse. Even at a distance, he could see the foamy sweat around the straps of the saddle if he squinted a bit. He didn’t need to squint to see the drops of blood in the dirt or the splash of red on the saddle blanket.

“Huh,” he said and took a sip of coffee before turning back inside. He set the mug down on the table. His gun and holster hung of the back of the chair and he picked it up. The leather was well worn and supple and buckling around his waist it was second nature. Through the greased paper window, Techno could see the horse, still in the same spot, just as blurry as when he had seen it the first time.

Outside, the sun was coming over the ridge and Techno squinted as he approached the horse from the front. It lifted its head but made no attempt to move away even as he patted its neck. Sweat covered its neck, chest, and flank. The horse had been ridden right to the edge of exhaustion, the sign of either a reckless or desperate rider. Judging by the blood, Techno thought desperate. The blood left a clear trail to his barn but he took the time remove the saddle and bridle from the horse.

“You just stay right here,” said Techno, giving the horse one last pat before following the trail of blood left on the dusty ground.

The barn door had been pulled closed. Blood was smeared on it, a partial hand print that the owner had attempted to wipe away. That struck Techno as odd. They had made no other attempt to hide their presence so why try to clean up the blood on his barn? He put one hand on the hilt of his gun and pulled the door open, letting light pour inside.

A gun was pointed right at Techno’s head.

The hand holding the gun was bloody and shaky and attached to a man, propped up against a bale of hay. His other hand was pressed against his side, holding a rag that likely used to be another color but was now reddish-brown. The lower half of his face was covered by a black bandana with a curved white line embroidered onto it, like a strange smile.

“Seriously, Bawaajigan?” Techno let go of his gun. “You’re gonna break into my barn then point a gun at me?”

An annoyed snort followed by a low wince of pain left the man. He lowered the gun.

“I—I told you, stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, man, I dunno what to tell you,” Techno said with a grin. He crossed the distance between him and the man in three large steps. He knelt. “Did ya go and get yourself shot again?”

Above the black bandana, the man rolled green eyes. His forehead was shiny with sweat, blond hair sticking to his skin.

“What, sad it wasn’t you? Again?”

“You’re the one who wanted that duel, Dream.”

“Heh. Yeah—Yeah, that’s fair.”

Techno shook his head, grin softening into a knowing smile. The moment he saw the horse, he had thought his day would go something like this.

“Lemme see how bad it is.”

Dream slipped his gun into the holster that was strapped to his leg and finally pulled the black bandana down. Techno could count the number of times he had seen the whole of Dream’s face on one hand. He frowned a little as Dream pulled his hand away from his side. Dark, almost black blood slowly oozed from the tear in his skin.

“It didn’t get anything important,” said Dream.

One of Techno’s eyebrows shot upwards as he pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket.

“You sure about that?” he asked, pressing the handkerchief as gently as he could to the bullet hole. Dream drew in a sharp breath, air whistling between his clenched teeth.

“Well, I mean… No, but I don’t think it did.”

The words sounded uncertain and tight. Techno clicked his tongue. He wanted to ask what had happened, who had shot him this time and who was going to come looking for him. It was unlikely that anyone would come here; the last time he had been spotted in public with Dream, he had been twenty paces away. Techno’s hand felt around Dream’s side, looking for the exit wound. There was none.

“Good news,” Techno said as he leaned back on his heels, “you’re right – for once – and it didn’t hit anything important.”

The corner of Dream’s mouth twitched.

“Go to hell,” he said. And then, with the air of someone who already knew the answer, “What’s the bad news?”

“I’m gonna have to dig that bullet out.”

Dream closed his eyes for a moment. The blood had slowed to trickle, his body doing its job to keep him from bleeding to death. It wouldn’t matter if the bullet was left in to shift or break apart and seep lead into his blood.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

His eyes were still closed and Techno took this moment to look him over more closely. Blood had soaked his shirt and the waist of his pants but also near the hem of the opposite side. His knuckles were scrapped and his cheek was puffy and yellow, the sign of a newly forming bruise. 

“Alright. Well, I don’t want to go diggin’ it out in my barn so how about I help you inside?”

“Yeah, sure.”

With a deep sigh, Dream finally opened his eyes and began to push himself upright. His hand slipped a little on the loose straw covering the floor of the barn. Techno grabbed his shoulder to steady him before unceremoniously shoving his hands beneath Dream’s armpits and pulling him to his feet. A string of curses were muttered but Techno ignored them, wrapping an arm around Dream and letting him lean against him. The first couple steps, Dream was stubborn, trying to walk without assistance but by the time they had left the barn, he was fully leaning on Techno. He squinted in the sunlight.

“I left—Spirit should be out here, somewhere,” he said.

The horse had wandered a few feet, closer to pasture where Techno’s horses were, and was grazing. He would have to be put up but for now, exhaustion and the fact the other horses had wandered over to the fence to graze closer to the newcomer was working in their favor.

“He’s right there,” said Techno, nodding his head towards the fence. “He’ll be fine. I’m gonna stop you from dyin’ on my land and then I’ll go put him up, alright?”

Dream nodded. His jaw was clenched and his fingers dug into Techno’s arm hard enough to hurt as they climbed the stairs up to the porch. Techno almost made a joke about how he wasn’t going to drop Dream, if that’s what he was worried about, but decided against it.

“Your house sucks,” Dream said as he stepped onto the porch, breathing heavily.

Techno snorted.

“At least I have a house, Dream.”

He used his shoulder to push the door open. The bedroom was straight ahead, the door already open, and Techno steered Dream in that direction. It would mean a change of blankets but he needed a relatively flat surface.  

“You’re such a bastard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Lay down,” Techno said.

Dream did what he was told without argument, though he tried to prop himself up on his elbows to watch Techno dig his leather medical bag out of his trunk and only fully laid down when Techno returned and pushed him back down. He grumbled a little then but it seemed to be all he had the energy for. Techno sat on the bed and the mattress creaked.

“Pull your shirt up a little.”

“You better not mess this up,” said Dream, pulling his torn and blood stained shirt up.

The buckle on the leather bag had long since broken and Techno pulled out a few items – clean rags torn into strips, a pair of thin metal tongs, and a bottle of whiskey – and set them on the crate serving as a night stand.

“Pfft, I’ll remind you that you came to me, man.” He uncorked the whiskey. Dream eyed the bottle warily. Carefully, Techno poured some over the wound then wiped away the blood with one of the rags. He glanced up at Dream, face beaded with sweat, and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

Lifting his hand, Dream wrapped his fingers around Techno’s wrist, his pale skin in stark contrast to Techno’s brown skin, and squeezed.

“I—I believe you.”

It was earnest and Techno inclined his head towards Dream before picking up the metal tongs. Dream let go of his wrist in favor of balling his fists into the wool blanket as Techno began his work. He found one large chunk of the bullet fairly quickly and discarded it to the side. The other two pieces were harder to find and Techno paused a few times when Dream made a pained sound, reaching out to place his hand over Dream’s for a moment. When he had finally gotten the final fragment out with a bit of twisting and pulling, Techno poured more whiskey over the wound. Dream hissed out a quiet ‘god damn’.

“Anything else I oughta take a look at?” asked Techno, glancing down at the blood on Dream’s leg.

Dream shook his head.

“N-no, I’m fine.” Techno paused in the middle of rinsing his hands off in the basin and cocked an eyebrow. Dream huffed. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, okay? I’m fine.”

Drying his hands off on his pants, Techno pulled out another strip of the makeshift bandage. He slipped a hand behind Dream’s shoulder and guided him up. A pained wince was bit back as Dream glanced at Techno sheepishly.

“I believe you, alright, I believe you,” he said. Without being told, Dream lifted his arms up so that Techno could wrap the bandage around his abdomen a few times, pulling it taut enough to help stop the bleeding but not too tight to be uncomfortable. “D’you want to tell me what happened now?”

The expression on Dream’s face was serious, hurt, and he looked away. There had only been a handful times that Techno had seen Dream’s face but the times he had, the other man had been grinning. The change was disconcerting.

“It was an ambush. I—They’re probably going to come looking for me. I figured, you know, I figured that they wouldn’t look here.”

Techno pat Dream on the knee and then handed him the bottle of whiskey. Now he grinned as he took a swig, face scrunching up as the alcohol burned his nose.

“Well, I’ve never been one to kick an injured and homeless man to the curb,” Techno said, nudging Dream a little with his knee. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

“What—You’re a son of a bitch, Techno.”

Techno’s smile stretched wider.

“That sure is a funny way of sayin’ ‘thank you’, Dream.”

A long, resigned sigh was pulled from Dream.

“Thank you.”

thinking about how passionate? dedicated? unhinged? dream is and was. what do you mean you played mc monday on a macbook after fudging his viewer number and lying to keem. also, asking techno to team with him and telling him that he's really good, so he'd make a great teammate for him.

important talk?

I almost said from Techno's POV since he is taller, but I fear that he might lose his ankle if he made fun of that >.<

Snippet:

Wilbur noticing more and more similarities between dream and Phil

And/or

Techno doing the same

Wilbur wished his father didn't stash the most interesting parts of his life away in the basement. If Wilbur had thousands of years worth of antiques, he'd display it proudly around his house (in beautiful arrangements with perfect feng shui, he would add), not stuff it all in boxes and pretend it didn't exist.

When the world felt overwhelming, Wilbur would go to his father's house and sort through some of it, and he'd walk away with an armful of ancient books about philosophy and warfare, and Philza would frown at his selection. He'd say he doesn't need those books anymore, and that Wilbur could take them.

Half-ripped, covered in dust, and tucked between some history books, was a painting.

It depicted a young man with long blonde hair tied loosely at the base of his neck. His skin, though pale, was sun-kissed and freckled at the peak of his nose and cheeks. He wore white lace at his neck and an elegant brooch that held dark green robes at his shoulders. He looked dainty yet powerful, with an intelligence in his eyes.

It was Dream.

"Phil!" Wilbur called as he carried the painting upstairs, his boots heavy on the floor. He did his best not to trip on the untied laces. "Phil, you've got some explaining to do, old man."

"Mm?"

"Imagine my surprise when I'm sorting through dusty old history books and I find this," Wilbur said, dramatically displaying the painting to where his father was reclining on the couch. He watched as Phil went through a series of expressions-- first, squinting in confusion, then his head tilted as he searched his memory, then finally recognition sparked.

"Ah," Phil said. "Those were very different times, eh?"

"Different times?" Times when his father kept elegant paintings of the enemy?

"I'd never commission a painting of myself like that anymore," Phil said, "Cringe. To use Techno's words."

The whiplash hit like a punch to the chest. This man was his father? This wasn't Dream?

Dream looks more like Philza than his own son does?

"This is you?"

"That's me, mate. From a time I'd like to forget." Phil stood and headed to the kitchen, and as he walked, he turned the painting away from himself, "You're welcome to keep it, but I'd rather it just stay in a box somewhere. I don't want it."

---

Dream's hair grew out in the Vault, and he tied it loosely at the base of his neck. His eyes took on a half-feral and wild sort of light, like green flame. When he regained some muscle it sat on him tightly, as it would on a wild cat, and his ribcage always looked a bit corpselike. As something of a corpse himself, Wilbur was unbothered by that. What threw him off was the image of his own father, now abused and torn apart by his long-time rival. A man who flinched away from his own image.