#DSMP God AU

[cielcreations]

Godly Powers - Prologue [DSMP God AU]

A long time ago, three gods ruled over everything. There was the God of the End, the God of the Overworld, and the God of the Nether. All three of them were extremely close, so close they were lovers. They helped one another out, helped one another create their worlds, helped one another make their realms more lively with plants, creatures, and even used their power to make portals  for the creatures to pass through.

However, with more creatures came more work. The gods had to make sure the creatures had enough free will and intelligence so they wouldn't just be some zombie like creature, but they couldn't have too much that they tried to overthrow them.

"Why don't we make our own gods that were below us!"   The God of the End suggested.

"What? I don't think-"

"That's a great idea!" The God of the Overworld exclaimed, "We're all both so tired all the time, having other people help us would ease the load! We'll even have more time, just the three two of us!"

"I really don't want-"

"We will all both still be together, that will never change. However, with extra hands around, it will be more lively!"

"Nothing bad will come of this I promise!"

"...O-Okay..."

"Great! Let's get to work!"

And so, the three gods began to make more. At first, the God of the End and the God of the Overworld were the only two to make multiple gods. Meanwhile, the God of the Nether only made one. The system worked for awhile, until the God of the Nether noticed something.

An affair.

The God of Nether never, never, ever, EVER, agreed to this. He, of course, confronted them.

"I don't like how close you both are getting with your gods! I-"

"You're overreacting." The God of the End reassured.

"It's all just platonic!" The God of the Overworld chuckled.

"B-But I saw you both-"

"It's okay, we're still together, it's not a big deal!"

"We promise, my firefly, it's okay!"

Is it okay? The God of the Nether thought. However, he just sighed.

The God of the Nether just smiled sadly, "Okay... I trust you." He didn't, but he couldn't say that.

The God of the Nether made more Gods, just like the other two. However, while the other two were extremely happy, having fun, having an affair and cheating, and making gods that were stable and happy... the God of the Nether couldn't. He was upset, he was hurt, and he was angry. The gods he started to make were a bit unstable, they had a temper, they reflected his emotions and what was in his heart. While the God of the Overworld and God of the End had fun, while they smiled, and continued their "secret" relationships, the God of the Nether suffered remained silent.

His heart was breaking everyday, seeing the way his boyfriends acted. While he remained loyal, they didn't. He grew to hate their gods, to the point he would make their gods cry and not feel any remorse. He secretly hopes and prayed they would come back. That they would hug him and love him again.

But that never happened.

One day, the God of the End proposed an idea.

"We should have an open relationship!"

"......Huh?"

"Ooooh, good idea!" The God of the Overworld agreed, "We can all still be together, but be able to go out and explore!"

"...What...?"

"Exactly! What do you say, S-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" The God of the Nether screamed.

"F-Firefly-"

"YOU BOTH CHEAT ON ME FOR HUNDRED, MAYBE THOUSANDS, OF YEARS AND NOW PROPOSE AND OPEN RELATIONSHIP?! NOW?! AFTER ALREADY CHEATING?!"

"W-We didn't-"

The God of the Nether nearly ripped out his hair, "ALL THIS TIME! ALL! THIS! FUCKING! TIME! I WAS WAITING, HOPING, PRAYING FOR YOU BOTH TO COME BACK TO ME WHILE I WATHCED YOU KISS AND GRIND, HEAR YOU MOAN AND FUCK ALL YOUR PATHETIC GODS! INSTEAD, YOU PROPOSE AN OPEN RELATIONSHIP?! WHY?! TO HIDE YOUR GUILT?!"

The God of the End reached out to him, "F-Firefly-"

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT!" The God of the Nether pulled his hand away. He turned around and began to stomp away, fire erupting from where he stepped, "You both are going to pay for the torture you put me through."

The God of the Nether didn't take it well.

He started a war. With the Goddess of Death, God of Blood, God of War, God of Time, and many other powerful gods on his side, the God of the Nether should have won. The war between them lasted for two weeks, the God of the End and the God of the Overworld teaming up. The God of the Nether and his gods were backed into a corner and, caring about them more than his own health, he used his power to retreat them to safety.

The God of the Nether screamed as the God of the End stabbed him. The god coughed up golden blood and fell to his knees.

"S-Step back!" The God of the Overworld separated them.

The God of the Nether just looked down, staring at his own blood.

"...Firefly, you're too unstable."

I just want you both to come back to me... The God of the Nether thought.

"We don't have a choice." The God of the Overworld said.

The God of the Nether looked up and watched the two hold their hands up. His eyes widened and he reached out to stop them, but it was too late. With heavy hearts, they used almost all their power to lock the other deep into the Nether, his realm. Netherite chains wrapped around his wrist and ankles as he was taken deep into the realm, hidden under lava, under the endless Netherack, unable to be accessed by anyone but them.

The minor gods who fell under the God of the Nether were ordered to choose who they now wished to follow. All of them refused to follow the God of the Overworld or the God of the End, demanding their true ruler back. Both of them simply said it was impossible. Everyone was forbidden to speak of the God of the Nether, no one was to utter his name.

He was unstable.

He was a problem.

But you don't really believe that.... do you? After all, you can see the text they tried to hide. So tell me, young godling, if you want to figure out who you're connected to... you know where to look, don't you?

Who am I?

There's no need to rush things. After all, you have a story to read.

Flip the page and, when the time is right, you will know who I am.

[invisiblesketches]

Au where god of the sun theseus disappears one night along with God of the moon Ranboo. The gods spend the next century searching for them while deity of starlight aimsey takes care of the moon, God of eclipses Purpled cares for the sun Somewhere down on earth, 17 year old TommyInnit lives with his friends Tubbo and Ranboo, until some things get discovered about them

[calmthefuckdownalright]

"Godsend" I: Young Gods

(A/N: I'm using Roman Numerals for these chapter parts just fyi)

Summary: The gods are bored so as a game they each choose a champion, the god of death being left out of the game chooses his own without the others knowing. But no one expected the turn out of their actions to be that of a fairytale.

Warnings: carnage, death, violence, war, immortality, crush panic

Next |

°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•

"Eight cries of children born. Wails of the purest forms known to man. Untouched by the world's cruelty and merciless sword. Two could end humanity with a mere wish of their minds. Three were capable to enact more destruction than the world could ever see. And the final three would be the buffers for that destruction. By the end of it all only two would be without a half and only one would survive this loneliness."

As decreed in the Songs of Men.

Philza Watson was raised on these songs. These poems. Even from an early childhood he knew he was part of it, the prophecy. How though? No one had any idea about how to find these eight children with immense power.

Philza knew though. He knew by the curve of his fledgling obsidian wings. By the pounding in his head that matched the heartbeat of the one closest to him. By the uncanny knowing of when his parents would die and how.

Philza knew. And he hadn't told anyone. Not even his mother knew of the heartbeats. Of the wings on his back. Philza's father wasn't around much. There was a war in their kingdom. One with the Mountain Peoples to the North, that was what Philza knew of it anyway. His mother had refused to tell him much of anything about it.

So the way his mother kept that secret, he kept his. His wings. They would be an abomination to the village of small farms and firstly children. So Death taught him to hide them.

Death...Philza's true father in his own mind. Though Death never said if they were a man or a woman, nor did it seem like they were either, Philza saw them as a Father. They taught him everything he knew. How to hide the downy wings and resist the urge to speak in a language no one knew.

Death gave Philza books and taught him how to fight. Death taught Philza everything. How to cheat and how to spot it. How to lose and how to triumph. Death was Philza's father most days. Others he was his teacher. His enemy in sparring. His enemy today.

"You're too slow in your reaction," Death's hollow voice echoed off the cave walls. Mountains surrounded the farmer village and everyday Philza commuted out to this cave to train.

"You aren't telling me how to get faster!" Philza growled and got up off his knee. A thin trickle of blood oozed from his quick healing skin. Death had sliced his arm and a mere scratch appeared with the blade had cut. A sign Philza's immortal invincibility was kicking in at last. Used to he'd come home with moss piled on top his wounds and his tunic stained red. His mother never quite asked where'd he been or what happened. She was occupied in waiting for his father to return with a new flesh wound and darker look in his eyes. Or not at all as Philza knew would inevitably happen deep in his boyhood heart.

"I thought you were smarter Philza," Death drawled on and kicked the long sword back to their pupil.

"I thought you were kinder." Philza grunted and adjusted their grip and stance. Death had never gone this hard at Philza before. He was only 14...how was he expected to compete on this level with a god?!

"Death is not kind." Death huffed and began the motions again, each swing parried or dodged by Philza even as the speed grew.

"Now you're referring in the 3rd person. How sad." Philza smiled smugly and twisted out of the reach of Death's sword. He wasnt fast enough to swing his sword to block the next blow. Instead he stumbled back and hit the wall of the cave. Death's sword became a scythe and Philza felt his heart flutter in fear. Death had never summoned their true weapon in their sparring before.

Philza wasnt even concerned on landing a blow of his own, he was greater afraid of not surviving this session. Death's eyes were a cold white under the deep black hood shadowing their face. A cowl. A cloth the color of the deepest grave stretched over where Death's mouth would be and swung down to only end in tatters at their chest.

"Death stop! Please!" Philza begged and ducked under the quick blade of the scythe only to feel the butt of it crash into his chest with such a force he fell to his back and lost his breath.

"Mercy is not an option." Death growled and set their foot on Philza's surely bruised chest, and pressed down. Philza felt a pain so sharp it was like an arrow point slicing his finger as a child, before the invincibility took root.

He gasped as Death pressed harder till Philza was sure his chest would crumble under the boot of his teacher. He'd never felt such fear, such desperation.

'This is what you get for being smug you bastard.' He thought to himself and pushed back on Death's boot. A feeble attempt as Death replied with more pressure.

Philza cried out as tears pricked at his eyes. Adrenaline shot up his arms and a new strength pulsed in his veins. Philza screamed in his boyhood as he felt Death's foot budge. An inch then another till he could finally breathe again.

With just enough distance put between Death and Philza's chest he rolled. Philza unset Death's balance and watched as his opponent stumbled for a mere moment. A moment long enough for Philza to retrieve a dagger stashed on his belt and throw it. The blade caught Death's cloak and drug their immortal body to the stone wall, pinning them there. Philza was on them in an instant with his sword retrieved and set on Death's pale throat.

"Well done," Death rumbled and Philza thought he saw a smile twitch under the cloth covering Death's face. "Well done indeed. Do you see yourself, my Champion? Look at what you are." Death was smiling. A rotten smile made of bones and a skinless jaw.

Philza looked into Death's eyes and saw someone he didn't recognize. He saw a man in place of a boy. This man's wings were three times the size of Philza's. His hair down to his shoulders and covered by a green and white striped hat. This man wore a black cloak like Death but a green kimono underneath. This man looked vengeful. Exhausted from years of battle. This man was scarred physically and mentally.

This man was what Philza knew he would be one day, whether he saw it physically or not in Death's eye. He knew, and now he had the evidence to know it truly.

💚60 Years Later💚

Philza had begged once. In that spar session with Death he had truly thought he would die and wished it not so. Now he was 74 in place of that scared 14 year old. He was almost the man he saw in Death's eyes. Even after 60 years he was not yet the man he was to be.

He had the scruff and tired bags under his sapphire eyes. The scars from many battles won. And his wings were things of legend. He didn't wear a green kimono but he did enjoy the color. Philza's hair stretched down his neck but not quite the shoulders as Death's eyes revealed.

Philza Watson was an elder in a young man's body. He'd witnessed the rise and fall of empires. Destroyed armies with the swing of his sword. He'd founded nations and tore them down. The Angel of Death was a legend, and now he wandered into a pub called the Hoglin. The only known place with a portal to another realm.

The Nether.

Supposedly it was founded by a native of the place. A whole family of Pigmen built if before tragedy struck. The oldest of the founder's children became possessed and slaughtered the whole family in the night.

When questioned, the killer claimed he didn't remember it. The King that pressed charges against the convicted, Technoblade Philza believed the killer's name to be, led his kingdom to war and lost horribly. According to legend, Technoblade offered his assistance and won them the war in exchange for his freedom. With that freedom he befell the kingdom and destroyed the government in a matter of hours.

Technoblade was a legend beside Philza, and now he was finally able to meet him. Least to say he was kind of hard to miss.

The bar was crowded with drunken males flaunting their stories and fantastical tales of war. Philza heard their heartbeats. One, no two, would be dead by morning due to drinking. They had too much ale or bourbon or whisky and it would kill them. He could see through the eyes of another he would kill someone tonight as well. A young woman? Through what Philza could see of the kill it would be mutual. Through her last actions she would kill the man and they would die together. A tragic tale.

'How pathetic.' Philza scoffed and lowered the green and white hat atop his head as he squeezed past several other people, careful to keep his wings tight under the cloak covering his frame.

Philza spotted the man he searched for in the back of the pub. A river of cherry pink covered and ran down his head and onto his broad shoulders. A cape the color of blood rested there. It looked Royal, perhaps the cape of the King he killed in the stories.

Technoblade's face was covered by what appeared to be a mask but as Philza got closer he realized it to be his real features. The face of a pig rested easily on Technoblade from the nose up. From his mouth and below he was human. Philza caught himself staring at her another peculiar piece of his fellow legend. He wore a crown. And not just any crown, a CROWN. It wasnt rounded like the posh ones the rulers wear on their coronation, this one was as intricate as the one that sat upon the King's head today.

Gold danced around the spikes and spears etched into its surface with jewels of every color popping out of the metal. From the way Technoblade was so relaxed in a bar with drunken men and thieves, Philza assumed that thing was either cursed or heavily protected by its wearer.

"Angelus Mortis." A gruff voice came from the pigman. A dark scarlet iris floated lonely in Technoblade's eye as he addressed the man in green.

'Angel of Death. He speaks Latin?' Philza stood stiff as he analyzed what he could possibly say in return. He'd never known another to speak the language of the dead.

"Iuvenis Deus." Philza finally thought out and sat across the table from the man with a calm heartbeat and beautiful crown.

"Young god? Is that what you think I am?" Technoblade chuckled and sat back in his chair. It creaked from the broad movement.

"That is what I am." Philza stated. "I can smell the death from you. You're a killer who shouldn't be able to kill anymore yet you look not hardly a day older than myself."

"I've spent the last 60 years fighting for my beliefs if that is what you mean by such slaughterous words." Technoblade scoffed. He was obviously not very trusting to the man across the table.

"Yet we do not have gray hair." Philza pointed out. Having never met each other there was a kind of draw between them. A cord of some kind taking them down the dame rabbit hole.

"Who are you?" Technoblade growled a little in his words.

"Philza Watson. Pleased to make your acquaintance Blood God." Phil stood up and let his wings stretch out under his cloak, casting a shadow over the pub. Technoblade's eyes widened, shrinking that crimson iris to a pinprick. The screaming began and bottles smashed. Philza kept us hand outstretched to the pigman.

"It really is you." Technoblade breathed and Philza let a small snicker escape him.

"In the flesh. 74 years old and still kicking like a flegeling." He smiled snd Technoblade took his hand as he stood. "Now let's blow this place to Hell."

And they did....

They did it to many places. Starting in small shops and pubs run by greedy men serving even greedier kings and reaching up to the nobles and monarchs of the realm.

Within a few months the world knew their names and now the prophecy had two of the unnamed eight children on the gods found.

Kingdom after Kingdom fell at their hands and soon very few were left, but one stood tall over the masses. A place called Crowseye ruled by the Halo family and the Crimson Egg Battalion defending their borders.

"Rumor has it the real Halo family is kind and hang the Crimson Egg is some kind of curse type thing. Possessed them basically." Technoblade drug a rock over the broad sword resting on his leg. A sharp sound reverberating along the burrow walls.

"Rumors have it we already have a revolution gathering for us. Led by some Lord William and his niece. Kristal or something." Philza smiled at his friend. "Says she's our age as well. 'parently her Uncle wished her youth or some bullshit when she was born. He wanted a female heir according to legend. Poor man's nearly a century old and his only relative is his niece."

"How wonderful. Perhaps we can place another King on a throne then topple him as well to only have a Queen take his place." Technoblade scoffed and examined his blade carefully. Monarchy was his least favorite form of government. Kings or Queens.

"Yeah sure." Philza hesitated on the idea. Taking down the corrupt ideas of government was fun, and totally on his boat of missions, but something felt...dead inside him. Like he was simply going through the motions. In all of the years he'd been fighting he never knew he'd feel this empty of his purpose.

Philza and Technoblade were made to kill. Death and Blood side by side, slaughtering their way through their enemies with minimal efforts. It was the fate of the world for them to kill. So why did Philza feel so off?

"I'm gonna go for a fly. Be back in a bit." Philza finally decided and walked out the burrow without so much a word coming from either men as one departed.

Philza didn't waste time in flying to the Revolution's camp. It wasnt far away at all and easy to spot in the valleys and plains outstretched beyond him. A sturdy gathering of tents and campfires. He flew high, casting a shadow along the land below in the dusk light. Philza lowered himself several yards from the camp just as to not warrant a panic and arrows shot at him. It'd be a shame if the people they were trying to help tried killing him.

"Halt intruder." A demanding voice halted Philza's steps as he turned to face the owner of the voice.

Sat atop a speckled gray horse was a woman. A beautiful woman with long black hair and a wide set frame that silhouetted gorgeously against the evening sun. Philza stood dumbstruck as the steed angled itself according to its rider and Philza caught the woman's eye in his own. A doe brown rimmed by what seemed like a hazy violet that Philza thought would take him his entire mortal life to describe in words worthy enough.

"State your name and business." She commanded and Philza felt his face flush as she drew a sword from its sheath with unprecedented skill.

"I-I'm Philza Watson, Angel of Death, and I have come to offer my assistance in your fight for freedom." Philza stuttered in the start and held up his hands in surrender as the woman dismounted easily.

"The Angel of Death?" The woman scoffed and Philza suddenly thought perhaps she wasn't as great as her appearance seemed. Yet her heart didn't quicken at his title or the shift of his wings.

"Am I the butt of a joke I don't know about?" Philza let a small smile creep up his face as the lady sheathed her sword and planted her hands on her hips, relaxed.

"No not at all, its just..." She let out a snicker. "You're so formal. The stories tell you as a man of pure vengeance. No mercy or surrender under any circumstances. Kill first, ask questions never sort of thing." The woman ranted on.

"I-I'm sorry who are you?" Philza dropped his hands and narrowed his eyes as the woman outstretched her hand.

"Kristen. My Uncle is Lord William." Kristen smiled sweetly and Philza felt his heart drop.

Oh how the mighty shall fall...

°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•

Did you like it? I liked it...I'm very excited and I wish I could draw so I could show you all my exact vision but I cannot so you'll have to do for my poorly written descriptions of a fictional character's eyes or mannerisms.

Anyways, goodnight my loves.

[cyani07]

dinner in las nevadas

[sunlit-mess]

What's the piece you're most proud of (that you've drawn?)

nothing beats these two.

[viorawd]

damn. oh how much I loved dsmp gods lore

my pookies😔

These character designs are not mine!

[cosmicasteroids]

Tommy: do you think we are friends in every universe?

Tubbo: I’d think so-

A entry for a clingy duo dtiys on Instagram.

[nomsfaultau]

out of context plot points in Mandatory Family Reunion

Most of these are from gags from my fic. But others are horrific events completely reframed. Good luck guessing which is which !

A Dr. Pepper ruins Techno’s life

Tommy gets grounded for trying to shoot Philza

Techno has an AA meeting with his kidnappers

“Fun life advice with Techno: Turns out it’s not hard to fake cry when you’re constantly trying not to sob! Neat. Probably super applicable for normal people too.”

A black ops raid is sent to deliver Christmas presents

Tommy carries onions in his pockets so he can fake cry on command. This is funny until it isn't

On the other hand, that isn't modeling clay in Wilbur's pockets

Techno’s parents always have his back!

“It’s just the anxiety. I feel like I would’ve seen the achievement pop up if I got PTSD.”

Philza gets a rabies shot because of Techno

“But if [Philza's] years of running a criminal empire have taught him anything, all it takes is a can-do attitude and unfathomable wealth.”

Officer Jenny commits police brutality

It's always a bad sign when you can hear your parents giving you advice

Philza straight up drinks poison but is alright (unlike Skeppy)

Squidkid loses hide and seek with Wilbur bc he’s a dirty cheater

Techno’s hair is burnt off but, like, it’s not a big deal

If you can't replace your son's abusive parents yourself, store bought is fine. (Philza actively gets more scared when it works)

It's not a coma if you're in enough denial about it!

“[Tommy] hands over a real security ID. Sure enough, the middle name actually is Danger. Sam has very interesting parents, and a long and fascinating backstory that will never be mentioned again.”

Quackity implies Edgeworth x Wright is cannon

Techno hits rock bottom in an elevator. actually 3 people in the fic have elevator trauma. Maybe the real Mandatory Family Reunion was the elevator trauma we made along the way.

“Skeppy, I think the dog has ulterior motives.”

GPS failure nearly costs a court case

Techno helps run a criminal empire for like 2 weeks. But not that criminal empire.

“They were like a family to me” and “I love you” and “For you? The world, Phil” are the most devestating lines techno says

Yes. This story is definitely pure crack. No angst here no siree! It's all jokes and japes galore. Ignore the sobbing.

[idkwatthehec]

Me, watching a God of War playthrough:

Man the dynamic between Kratos and Atreus is pretty familiar.

(Kratos, very big, physically strong man, stoic and feared by most others. Afraid of his own rage but quietly loves his son. A literal god.)

Huh yeah wait it’s really familiar

(Atreus, his son, also kinda has anger issues, but tries to see the good in everything until his ego gets a massive boost, Kratos is the one to knock him down a peg)

Wait…is this…bedrock br-

*gets dragged away screaming*

[zorishy]

Silly doodle of tntduo in the morning. (And new signature)

Headcanon that Rowan has to take a weakness potion and a golden apple every morning to keep his skin from rotting.

[the-final-sif]

c!Dream is off on a mission, to a location he does not know, for a purpose he does not know, but it’s probably not dangerous, and he also brought snacks so it should work out in the end. Honestly, given his poor map reading skills, the lack of direction isn’t that different from normal.

When Dream started his mission to… somewhere, he hadn’t been expecting it to feel so different.

Unlike his usual adventures, full of sidetracks and distractions, he found his feet pulled forward. His body almost moved as if it had a mind of his own as something called for him. Faintly but desperately. Like a ghost screaming and clawing at his skin, but only coming across as a gust of wind.

He couldn’t say how long he walked for. Time faded away, the light stopped mattering, the sights and sounds blended together until-

Until he reached it.

The entrance to a cave, made of rock he’d never seen before. It was perfectly smooth, like river rocks, but it shimmered like crystals. Every time he looked, it was a different color. Refracting and reflecting light until you lost yourself looking at it.

It was huge. It was narrow. It was more than big enough to fit him. It felt like it might consume him.

The call was coming from the cave, but equally just looking at the cave felt like he was doing something wrong. Like he wasn’t really supposed to be here, even though he’d been called.

Taking a deep breath, Dream strode forward. Holding his head high and hoping his mask would keep him safe, like XD had promised it would.

Inside the cave, there was no air. Inside the cave, Dream didn’t need to breathe. He forgot how to.

The only thing he could remember was how to put one foot in front of the other.

There was no sound, not even his own footsteps. There was no light. He could see just fine. He could not understand what he was seeing.

Whatever was under his feet was no longer rock. Maybe it never had been. He still didn’t know what color it was.

Deeper and deeper into the cave he went, nothing changing but the feeling in his chest of something approaching. Something watching him. Something was waiting for him. He didn’t know if he wanted it to find him.

Dream was pretty sure he didn’t have a choice.

Finally, he stopped. Unable to walk any further. He was here.

In front of him was…

Well it looked like a pond. But it wasn’t full of water.

It was full of void, deadly still and frozen.

Without thinking, he knelt at its shore.

The room felt stagnant, empty, neglected.

And then..

He felt- not one but two somethings join him in the room. No- they had been there the entire time.

Is this it? The one we’ve been waiting for.

Yes. It feels strange, but it is the one.

It does not feel like the ones that came before. Something’s different.

It is meant to be this way. It is the one. It is meant to be different. It would not survive if it were the same.

This one has survived. It has come to us at last. We’ve been waiting a very long time for it.

I told you it would come, eventually.

I know. The waiting was still long. But it has come. It is here now. It’s time to begin again.

It can hear us. Let’s not make it wait. It has not yet won. It has so much to do.

I know. I wish it were easier. It has already come so far.

It has come far, and we will watch where it goes. We cannot make it easier, but we will be there to witness its story unfold.

“Um, my name is Dream.”

Dream wasn’t quite how he managed to speak, but he did. He could feel- surprise? shock? delight? Silence from the voices reverberating through his skull. Only for a moment though.

Our apologies, little Dream. You’ve come very far. You have much farther to go.

“I know. XD told me. He said this was the first step. Can I ask a question?”

You seem to be able to. Although our answers may not satisfy you. We must speak carefully. We are not here to shape you.

Never. We are here to watch, we are here to witness. So that you know the universe is with you.

“Okay, well, I know I was supposed to come here. I assume there’s something I’m supposed to do, like a task or something? But uh, before that, you guys seem to know a lot. Like about everything.”

We are everything. Everything you see, everything you feel, everything reaching out and holding you close.

We have been here a very long time. We will be here for a very long tmie, here to witness you, little Dream.

“Okay, well if you know a lot about everything, do you have any ideas about what I could get XD for Christmas? I really wanted to try to get him something, but he seems to be able to conjure anything. There has to be something that he wants though! Any ideas?”

There was a long pause, Dream almost thought the voices were gone, and then he felt something like laughter, like a breeze ruffling his hair, like a baby bird’s first awkward attempt at flight. Not cruel, soft, but chaotic.

We could-

Shush, Dream can still hear us. Speak with care.

I know. But he has asked. Can we not share this much?

XD would love any gift you brought him, he loves you. He can create any material, but only you give him something that communicates your love.

If he’d been able to, Dream would’ve rolled his eyes.

“I know, but I want it to actually be special. There has to be something that I could get that he can’t get on his own. I know it must exist!”

The voices paused again, only for a moment this time.

There is something you could get him, little Dream. But it is a very difficult task. It is very dangerous.

He is still small. The challenge is great.

That is not our choice to make.

“Wait, what is it? I can handle it! XD has been training me for years! Also I'm not that small! I'm a whole foot taller than Sapnap!”

If we tell him, we have made his choice.

What about a story then?

We could try a story. They are safer. Not entirely safe, nothing can be entirely safe. But safer.

Yes, let’s try.

The story starts with a boy. Young, small, but very brave. He was made of love, of new ideas. Dangerous new ideas.

The boy set out on a quest, dreams had haunted him at night, driving him forward until he found a dying world.

The world was dying because it was being poisoned by a monster. A great beast that had lost itself, that was in pain, that had already told its story but hadn’t yet been freed. It wasn’t allowed to wake up, to start a new dream.

The boy was very small, but very brave. Full of love for the world. Made of that love. He couldn’t stand to see the world hurt. So he set out to free the monster.

He used a weapon made of teeth, found deep in a strange place outside of the universe most people know. Given to him when he started his quest. Teeth and bone from the emptiness that stretches from one universe to the next. The maw of the nothing that binds everything. The only thing that could wake up the monster.

It was a long and hard fight. The monster was hurt, it was lashing out, it was too lost to understand that the boy was doing what it needed. But the boy managed to strike a final blow, sunk the teeth of the nothing in between everything into the monster and set it free. So it’s dream could start anew.

This was not the boy’s final quest, it was his first. It changed him. He was still made of love, but a new kind of love. Changed, as all things are by their experiences. He was something new.

The boy completed his quests, and each changed him more. At the end, he came out victorious, a brave monsterslayer. Feared and revered for his skill. He had everything he could ever want.

Almost.

Almost, you see, he was full of love, surrounded by others, but he felt alone. Nobody else could slay a monster like he had. His accomplishment isolated him. He wanted very badly to find someone else that could slay monsters like him. That could do what he could do. Someone else who was full of love and dangerous new ideas.

The universe felt sad for him, but it could not take his sadness. It could only witness the boy in his loneliness.

“What was his name?” Dream asked, trying to puzzle out the story he was being told. He thought he might understand, but he wanted to be sure.

You would need to ask him.

It is not our place to name others. Only to know their name. Only to witness them.

“Did the boy find someone else? Someone else who could slay monsters?”

That is your choice, little Dream. The story isn’t over yet.

We are almost out of time.

“Will I meet you again?”

We are the universe, and you are part of it. You will never be apart from us.

We might speak again, one day. But for now, it’s time for you to return to your story.

Wake up, little Dream.

[missmrvee]

*gays your gods*

[arts-and-drafts]

Wherever You May Go (Hermit!Tommy AU)

Summary; Continuation of ‘Minecraft Championships’, in which TFC discovers a stowaway in his strip mine.

(Title from ‘Follow You’ by Imagine Dragons! I highly recommend reading ‘Minecraft Championships’ first to understand what’s going on! This one has been in the drafts for a WHILE and I had just recently finished it. This won’t be the last iteration of this little storyline! Enjoy!)

((And don’t worry, Come Morning Light is still in progress!))

CWs; Mentions of death, mentions of violence, slight body horror

-

Tubbo didn’t know what he was thinking when he ran through that portal.

He considered himself to be a smart man. He always tried to think rationally, to let logic decide his best move, and let it back up his choices when he did rarely make an emotional decision. Very seldom was he moved by his heart and his heart alone.

That all flew out the window when he heard Tommy scream.

His best friend, who he thought dead, cried out for help. And like the gods themselves puppeted him, Tubbo ran to his aid.

He didn’t bother squashing down the terrible hope rising in his throat, that he was actually hearing his dead best friend’s voice instead of him finally having lost it from stress. Tubbo ran, hope and fear blindingly bright in his chest, shoving any Player in his way aside with little care.

Please. Please. Please.

Tubbo pushed through the last people in his way, and froze.

Tommy.

Tommy was wrapped in the arms of three other players, all comforting him with words Tubbo couldn’t hear. All he could do was stare as his dead best friend smiled, shakily, tears streaming down his face as he answered back.

He barely took into account that the portal back to the Dream SMP was gone. His attention was all on the boy that made up Tubbo’s other half, alive, alive, alive.

The Players surrounding Tommy helped him off the floor, the avian among them draping his great gray wings over the backs of the entire party, shielding their faces from view.

Tubbo made an aborted cry in the back of his throat, jerking forward like his bones and muscles had been replaced with decrepit redstone machines, barely clinging to function.

The group containing Tommy didn’t notice, and seamlessly passed through the portal back to the place Tommy must have been since he die—went missing, the place Tubbo had no idea how to reach to try talk to Tommy again and beg for his forgiveness.

But now the gateway to his best friend was right in front of him.

Tubbo broke into a desperate sprint, throwing himself at the pure-white portal with the desperation of a dying man.

His vision went white, all encompassed by the void between worlds, where he simultaneously existed and didn’t all at once.

And then Tubbo tripped, landing hard on the ground that materialized right under him.

He groaned, his head spinning from the transition of being and not-being and back again.

Tubbo tried to raise a hand to his head, and his entire body lanced through with wrongness that he swiftly recognized to be the work of whitelist magic.

Panic reared its head in Tubbo’s mind, but he shoved it down, his meticulously logical side rising to his aid. With eyes that were becoming increasingly hard to keep open, Tubbo scanned through the lines of code in his communicator screen.

A Player with limited knowledge of how the world operated would not see the code behind the comms, but Tubbo had delved into the magic that made up the fabric of existence since he was small.

Tubbo knew he was on a time crunch. Even the worst-maintained whitelist could discorporate a Player in time, and based on the fact that Tubbo could already feel his atoms destabilizing, this whitelist was very maintained.

Still, he willed himself not to panic, drowning out the instinct roaring in his ears to fight for his life. It would not help him here; there was nothing tangible to fight against.

Tubbo located the string of magic in the code that was tearing him apart, a very powerful enchantment that attacked his being like a white blood cell destroying a virus. It was too powerful to cancel out, so Tubbo didn’t even try; instead, he attempted something he had never done before.

Tubbo mentally reached out to the magic, and embraced it, tangling the data in his veins with the enchantment that was attacking him, knotting them together so tightly that they were indistinguishable.

It was messy, and imprecise, but Tubbo kept a calm mind through the entire process, even as he felt his consciousness beginning to slip into nothingness. He continued to wind himself into the code of this server’s existence, knitting himself into the fabric of reality stitch by excruciating stitch.

Then, all of the sudden, with a SNAP that echoed through Tubbo’s very being, the magic of the whitelist pulled taut, unknotting itself, and Tubbo felt the data in his soul smooth out with it.

Tubbo let out a ragged gasp, his eyes flying open as feeling returned into his limbs. He coughed roughly, scrabbling at the earth underneath him to pull himself off the ground onto his shaking hands and knees. He choked and gasped for breath, willing himself to recover faster from being nearly disintegrated.

He took a minute to just exist, shivering and shaking as he tried to calm his body into functioning again.

Eventually his senses returned to him, and Tubbo raised his eyes.

He looked out to a great ocean, surrounding him on all sides. He was laid upon a cheerfully sunny sandy beach, with a chest to his left and a simple farm of carrots beside it.

There was a handwritten sign beside the chest, displaying the words ‘Take what you need!’ in curly handwriting that made Tubbo’s dyslexia flare up.

Tubbo shakily rose to his feet, and made his way to the chest, opening it to see loaves of bread and a few oak-wood boats inside.

He took a breath, raising his head to glance around at the empty ocean.

This must be the server’s spawn. Tommy nor the other Players he was with were here—which made sense, though it set a deep itch of urgency in Tubbo’s bones. They probably spawned back in their beds after coming through the portal.

Leaving Tubbo stranded alone, with no idea where to go from here.

He inhaled sharply, willing his despair to ebb away into the back of his mind. He summoned his compass from his inventory, glancing down at it before he psyched himself out too much to look.

The needle was still. After spinning uselessly in the SMP for an entire year, it was finally pointing straight and true, towards the boy Tubbo thought dead by cause of his own actions.

Tommy was alive.

Tubbo let out a breath that was between a laugh and a cry.

It wasn’t a dream, a hallucination or a snap of the psyche. Tommy was alive.

Tubbo pushed the bangs out of his eyes, looking up at the direction the needle pointed.

Tommy was just beyond the horizon. He was here all along, wherever ‘here’ was, and now Tubbo was too.

Tubbo grabbed a boat from the chest, and as much bread as he could carry, throwing the wooden item against the water and jumping in as soon as it expanded to size.

I’m coming, Tom.

-

TFC knew his mines like the back of his hand.

They were just as rough and aged as his hand too, but still, he had memorized each one of them. Strip mines that had long been given up on, once the dwarf had run out of torches or ran out of durability on his pickaxes. He had no reason to venture down once he was comfortable with resources, but still, he walked the lengths of his underground tunnels often.

He felt most at home with rock over his head, and he traveled his handmade mines so much that he could recount the route of them all with his eyes closed.

It was how he knew someone had disturbed them, and done so recently.

Now, he was no stranger to the other hermits accidentally breaking into his mines during digging out room for their own projects. The matter was always dealt with amicably, with the offending hermit patching up the tunnels like they were never disturbed and redirecting their dig site out of the way.

However, they never failed to mention it to TFC, even if he wasn’t around at the time of the incident.

So when the dwarf noticed perfectly smooth stone innocuously laid among the walls of one of his strip mines, he knew he was dealing with someone else entirely.

To even the most careful eye, there was no hint of disruption along the mine wall. But that was precisely why TFC noticed it.

Being one arm short, he wasn’t the most graceful with his pickaxe. He carved the rock rough and uneven, making sure there was enough room for him and the torches, but leaving the edges of the tunnel untidy, because it was work to make it look all pretty and he didn’t mind it how it was.

Whoever had squirreled away in his mine, though, thought otherwise. Or perhaps they didn’t even notice the rougher stone, too focused on covering their tracks to care.

TFC hummed to himself as he hobbled down the tunnels, his rough tune echoing off the stone and carrying his voice far into the mine.

He leisurely came to a stop where the stone smoothed out, where he’d been hearing quiet footsteps up until he halted. The owner of said footsteps didn’t make another noise as soon as they registered TFC wasn’t either, a smart move to ensuring they stayed hidden.

Unfortunately, they didn’t account for the sharp hearing of a dwarf, nor said dwarf’s attention to detail.

TFC let the quiet linger for a moment, only sighing when there was no movement to be heard for several minutes.

“Alright,” TFC finally said, keeping his tone light of any accusation. “Who’s down here?”

The someone in the walls, predictably, didn’t reply. TFC cleared his throat.

“C’mon, now. I’m not gonna be mad. Just wanna know who I’m dealing with.” TFC tried again.

The silence continued on. TFC was debating fully sitting against the wall and waiting out the Player, infinitely patient as he was, but then a quiet voice spoke up through the rock.

“You first.” A young voice demanded in clearly false bravado, and TFC chuckled.

“Sure, if that’ll help.” He agreed, making sure his tone wasn’t too rough. “I’m Tinfoil Chef. Everyone calls me TFC.”

The young voice was quiet for a beat.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” They spoke again, that same brave streak hiding their trepidation. TFC raised an eyebrow.

“Tellin’ the truth about my name, or that I ain’t gonna hurt ya?” He countered. The kid in the walls made an aborted noise.

“Cuz the answer is the same for both.” TFC continued, sparing the confusion for the kid. “It’s the truth. I just wanna know who’s in my mines.”

The voice was quiet for a few moments. TFC wondered if he’d have to speak again to keep the conversation going, to assure the kid further that he wasn’t going to do anything to them, but then they finally replied.

“Tubbo.” The kid said quietly, almost incoherent. “I’m Tubbo.”

TFC nodded. “Well, Tubbo, nice to meet ya.” He said. “What’re you doing down here in the walls?”

Tubbo was quiet.

TFC waited.

“I’m hiding.” Tubbo finally answered, sounding a bit sheepish. TFC hummed thoughtfully.

“I see.” He said slowly, thinking through his options. He truthfully wasn’t one to get into other people’s business; he tended to stay out of the server-wide shenanigans, and interacted with the other hermits very rarely. He would be perfectly content to leave his and Tubbo’s conversation there, after he’d gotten the answers he needed.

He had a feeling, though, that this kid shouldn’t be by themself.

“Well,” TFC spoke again, shifting his weight to his good leg. “You don’t have to hide all the way down here.”

“People rarely come around my place.” He continued. “You can hide and be comfortable too, at least.”

Tubbo was quiet, though TFC could practically hear the gears turning in their head.

“Why would you help me?” They asked, a bit abrasively, and TFC was reminded starkly of Tommy.

Huh. If he had a diamond for every kid that unexplainably showed up one day on Hermitcraft, he’d now be two diamonds richer.

“Just…seems like the right thing to do.” TFC answered honestly, shrugging. “I know it ain’t comfortable down here for most other than me.”

There was silence from the kid again.

Then, the stone wall broke, and the tip of an iron sword pointed warningly into the hall, held by a small goat hybrid with lapis-blue eyes.

TFC blinked.

“What are ya planning to do with that, exactly?” TFC asked neutrally, keeping his hands at his sides. The kid’s brows furrowed.

“It’s just insurance,” They said, their young voice firm. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

TFC blinked again, and then let out a laugh.

The kid’s face twisted to shock and uncertainty, obviously caught off guard by the dwarf’s reaction.

“You can point that thing at me if it’ll make you feel better, kid.” TFC amended. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. You can believe me if you want to.”

And with that, he turned and started walking back down the mine the way he came, his gate just as unhurried. He heard the kid behind him pause and then climb out of the hole in the wall, keeping a steady pace a few blocks behind.

Tubbo paused entirely when they made it to the ladder leading back up to TFC’s house. The dwarf turned back to them and gestured to the ladder.

“It takes me a good year or two to get up there.” TFC joked. “You first.”

Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “Not a chance.” He replied firmly. TFC shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” He answered, and promptly turned his back to the kid again to begin the process of arduously climbing the ladder with only one functioning arm and leg.

After he climbed a few blocks up, he finally heard the ladder creak behind him as the kid started his ascent, and he smiled to himself. Maybe Tubbo would be more inclined to trust him after the agonizing few minutes he’d be stuck behind TFC’s slow-moving butt.

TFC finally pulled himself through the hatch in his house floor, slowly rising to his feet and moving away from the hatch to his chests. He heard Tubbo emerge from the trapdoor soon after, the kid getting to his feet much quicker than the old dwarf and notably keeping his distance.

TFC grabbed some wool and wood from his chests, meandering to his crafting table. Tubbo shifted behind him.

“Where…are we, exactly?” The kid asked, his brave act lowering slightly.

“My very humble abode.” TFC answered, arranging the wool and wood methodically on his crafting table. Tubbo made a noise in his throat.

“No, I mean—what server?” He tried again. TFC collected the bed he constructed and turned back to the kid, holding it out to them with a slight smile.

“Hermitcraft.”

[calamari-minecraft-corner]

These two will be the death of me

[nomsfaultau]

EVERYPNE SHUT UP AND READ THIS FIC RIFHT NOW

instantly my favorite dsmp fic of all time. Amazing world building w humans as space orcs/fey that post near total genocide have come back as the galaxy’s rats and dogs and ravens, keeping their heads down and living in the shadows or risk becoming ‘a credit to their kind’. Fully uses a massive ensemble cast to explore human culture, religion, trauma, and the unfolding war. Mixture of tragedy and sweetness. Screaming begging crying you need to read it.

[bobobingy]

More of the evil

There's lore but I feel stupid saying anything help 😭😭 I based foolish a little off of houseki no kuni (or land of the lustrous) in that when he loses parts of himself, his memories are also lost with those bits. Dream is dream so he takes advantage of that.

End of the story, the world floods.

Enjoy doodle of dream tying his long ears back