C!Dream In The Arctic

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.

me writing cc!Dream: he’s broad-shouldered and tall, with fluffy hair and warm, mossy green eyes

me writing c!Dream: he’s a pathetic drowned cat of a man who’d be taken out by a gentle breeze

🐍

It had been a habit during Manberg and New Lmanburg. For all his faults, Dream was reliable when Tubbo needed him to show up

So when an emergency appeared, like a sinkhole opening by their crop patches or a sudden flood licking at the floors of the city, Tubbo would set up a spell by his shrine and pray.

It was a simple thing, not much more then a circle of salt and a candle, but Dream would be there in five minutes no matter what. Even after Tubbo called him over a few times to help practice his speeches.

Those times almost feel like a past life now. But still, after Tubbo had talked himself in circles for hours trying to think of a response to Jack's many needless complaints, when it was time to leave a new bowl of fish jerky on the shrine he found himself looking for a candle.

There's something almost embarrassing as he stops in the middle of the hallway, a box of matches already in his hands. Dream had been a comfort, sure, but he was also Dream. Yes, he was the God Tubbo prayed to, whatever, but him being Dream was always more important.

More then that, would he even come? It had been a month since the prison break, and no one had seen even a trace of him.

On the darkest nights, the one where Tubbo would not let Tommy walk out the door, he admitted that he was expecting Dream to abandon them. To sink back in the wild and snap the threads connecting them to him and to leave them fully human as they were born, yet somehow less who they were.

Tubbo sighed, hopping and switching his weight from one hoof to another before finally deciding to say fuck it.

Ranboo was staying in the arctic commune today, and Michael had been asleeo in bed for hours already. When would there be any chance as perfect as this to do something stupid?

He put the plate on the small shrine by the window, placing the candle on the floor in front of it and making a circle of salt around it.

He lit the candle, giving a prayer that was too well done for how much time it had been, and sighed as the candle goes out by itself as he finished the words. Dream probably was not going to-

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

Tubbo screamed, his limbs locking in place and barely allowing him to see his front door slammed open, Dream standing there with wide eyes, completly nude except for the fur thrown over his shoulders and dripping water onto his floorboards.

"wha-"

"WHY DID YOU OF ALL PEOPLE CALL ME ARE YOU FUCKING DYING??"

Happy new year!!! From me who has finally returned from outstation! I rushed this just in time for the new year in my timezone haha!

To all who celebrate, I hope you guys have a great time! Rest well and may your year be fruitful. To another year, be it good or bad, I am glad we are here.

Dream as a mythological figure is so underutilized in fanfic actually. Like just describing "man who is being eternally hunted" already sounds like classic fucked myth.

You wanna do a fantasy Bamf Tommy fic and need a mentor? Bam! He trained with The Eternal Prey and his immortal hounds when he was a kid.

Techno injured injured you need a deus ex machina for a final battle? Throw in the immortal hunters!

Just want a cool little tidbit, prayer or curseword that implies a wider world? "May you be as clever as The Dreamer" "The winds are howling tonight's, the hunt must be passing by" "Lock the damn door, at this rate The Prey will think you're inviting him in to eat"

What is his point in the world? Maybe he tends to dying magic in a never-ending circle. Maybe he's responsible for the seasons, running back to kill whatever causes winter so spring can bloom again and he can be reborn. Maybe he's responsible for catching lost and stay souls. Maybe he got cursed to this. Maybe he's so old that the only people who know are him and his hunters and none of them know how to explain it outside of their archaic language. Maybe he's so young that other gods don't quite get his purpose, like he was born to fix/deal with something new in the world they don't quite understand.

The world is your oyster!!! Have fun!!!!!

For doomsday trio prompts- dream passing out in weird places. He hasn’t slept in two days, and could go for more, really, but it’s really warm and feels safer than anything has for a long time.

combining this with @3nderm1te's prompt shared via discord where dream gets this treatment from philza. related somewhat to this drabble.

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Techno didn't snitch when Dream fell asleep for a few minutes by the fireplace. Philza had some errands to run before they could head off to the nether, and although Dream's face was covered (as always), his head lulled softly against the cushion of his chair while they sat waiting. It was early in the morning, and Dream just traveled from who-knows-where to get to the cabin, and young men get tired sometimes. Techno raised an eyebrow, but he just turned his attention back to his book, and he didn't snitch.

Techno also didn't snitch when Dream fell asleep by the enchantment table. Dream's knee-guards were missing Thorns, which bothered Techno very much, and while he was working to fix the problem he saw the same gentle, fast fall into sleep as before. When the job was completed, he said, "There we go," at his normal volume, and Dream sprung awake and continued as though nothing happened. Techno turned his head to hide his smirk, and he didn't snitch.

This time, Dream fell asleep while sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back leaning against Steve.

There was very little left to do. It was the night before the battle, and they just completed one final inventory of all the items they needed. Phil and Techno broke into a brief conversation of which dogs were fit for fighting and which should be left behind, and sometime during that conversation, Dream drifted off. Techno barely blamed him-- only the fireplace lit the space, the conversation was quite warm, and Steve is quite comfortable. With his face obscured, he looked like he was simply lounging against the polar bear.

"Unless-- Dream, do you want any dogs up on the grid with you?" Phil said, "Might be nice to have some extra eyes up there."

There was no answer, of course. Techno kept his mouth shut, determined not to snitch.

"Dream," Philza tried. As soon as it didn't work, he continued, "Oh my god, he's asleep, isn't he?"

"Yup," Techno snitched. "Has been for a few minutes."

"Christ, I swear-- Alright, alright." Phil knelt in front of their slumbering guest. "Dream."

That one worked. Dream woke with a jump, quickly composing himself. Techno imagined an expression of shocked embarrassment behind the mask.

"That's it," Phil said, "You're going to bed."

"You're right, you're-- " Dream stammered, "You're right. I should probably head out--" He turned towards the direction of the kitchen, where he normally kept his stuff.

"No, look at me, look at me. Look at me." When the white porcelain of Dream's mask turned fully at Philza, Phil said, "You're sleeping in the guest room. Don't argue with me this time. It's the night before the battle, you need all the rest you can get, and we can start earlier if we aren't waiting for you in the morning. You'll be safer here, anyway."

Dream stared silently at him for a moment. Behind the mask, his eyes darted to Techno, who was watching with non-judgmental indifference.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

-------------

Dream closed the guest room door behind him. It was a quaint little space; the mattress was quite large and comfortable, and sported a quilt. A few aged painting decorated the wall, though they were hard to see by candlelight. The window faced in the direction of Techno's cabin, and he pulled the blinds over it.

He dropped his hood from his head. He unclipped his mask and set it on the nightstand. He has never felt so vulnerable and exposed within four walls. He has never felt so safe.

my humble contribution to ...rivalsblr? rivalstwt?

u get the idea

Okay so I've been insane about this for A While now, but I rly wanna talk about it now. Like, the parallels between cQ & cSam and cPhil & cTechno in regards to cDream. Like with how one in each pair is a mostly humanoid bird hybrid(the duck hybrid!Q hc) who's smaller than cDream and the other a giant mob hybrid. The way one of those pairs made cDream a wreck(okay he was a wreck before that but yk what I mean) and the other pair is helping him heal from being a wreck. But then it's like, you look at both pairs and how they are with cDream, or literally just in general. And they couldn't be anymore differant. Like the initial parallels between the pairs could make sth feel too familiar in a bad sense, but then realizing, that it's just cTechno and cPhil, he'll calm down. In itwall, you even mentioned the parallells between cQ and cPhil and like how cDream could mistake them for each other and stuff.

Hope this makes sense and that I got the point of my little ramble across lol

YES this is big-brained. i can't believe i've implied this so many times yet never said anything outright about it.

techno and sam, both giant mob hybrids, serve as guardians. these are the people dream is most physically comfortable with, and who he trusts most. techno moreso guards dream himself while sam guards "the prisoner," if that makes sense, and techno encourages freedom while sam denies it. in ttdtn, techno jokes a bit about their roles being reversed ("think of it as a visitation system"). i like the idea of techno being the tallest on the server and sam being the second tallest; the competition between them is palpable.

phil and quackity, both bird hybrids and both shorter than dream, are more active agents of change. quackity was more, uh, "hands on" with dream in the cell, and i wrote philza as being the more knowledgable and active healer in itwall. these are the ones who create either pain or comfort, and unfortunately for dream, they're easy to mistake for each other. dream struggles with things like that. i particularly like designs where phil has massive wings (that are broken) and q has small, useless wings.