#c!dream/neg

[zenoisnotkarma]

RECENT DSMP LORE SPOILERS FOR TOMMY AND TUBBO'S STREAMS.

These are old but god it would be so cool to see c!Ranboo on c!Dream's side.

Also a great way to bring Ranboo back since Tommy and Tubbo want to destroy the revive book.

[sunsetcdiscs]

Posting to tumblr as well because its genuinely just sooo. Ugh

[kuuyooo]

A reminder that all it took was just some random annoying British child for c!dream to start crashing and tweaking out like it was the end of the world :3

[err0r-t4ken]

Tried to pretend to burn the revive book...

It. It went well, The Warden put me back into my proper place. He is definitely not standing over me with an axe to my I'm so grateful to have such a good influence here with me in the prison.

Someone who knows how to keep me in line and knows when to stop, knows when it's enough. I can always trust him and Si Quackity to keep me focused on what really matters.

I'd also like to send an apology to anyone who is concerned with my treatment in the prison. I am not being tortured. It was just a harmless prank

I am not in danger.

I am getting what I deserve.

They are right.

Do not look into the prison system.

Do not ask questions.

I am safe.

[aro-throughyourchest]

brother pause c!wilbur just looked at tommy newly dead and went lmao want to play cards and then never gave a fuck about him afterward until tommy had something better going on and then he was like 'no wait but don't you love me tommy we're like brothers basically'

c!wilbur was just a string of idgaf a fuck about you let's do something I find fun and c!tommy is like. why are you like this. I'm just trying to be loved and protected why are you like this and why do you treat me like this.

i'm so mad.

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile arc where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. 

During exile week, Tommy’s abuser takes advantage of the fact, acting nice and doing traditional avian parental behaviors like cooing or wing grooming. They’re way too intimate and make Tommy uncomfortable but as time goes on and he’s starving for affection (and doesn’t want to get punished) Tommy doesn’t resist like he used to. It’s relaxing, or is until the fingers combing through his feathers stop and he remembers to shudder.

During one grooming session, his abuser asks to keep some of his feathers to wear. In avian culture that’s a very intimate familial practice, a mixture between a claim to signify a close bond as well as a promise to carry the person as safely as their own two wings. Tommy’s gut rolls at the thought of his abuser wearing his feathers, and he can’t tell if it’s excitement or dread. But he’s learned not to say no by then, and tries not to flinch as his long pretty primaries are cut. 

An impulsive little stab of happiness shoots through his chest every time he sees his feathers fanning out of his abuser’s mask. He automatically feels a little safer when he sees the feathers, which the rest of Tommy is kind of freaked about. He’s starting to lose his grip on what’s him and what’s his instincts, even if his abuser keeps assuring him to trust his gut since listening to his stupid ideas is what got him in this mess in the first place. The negging is still happening of course, Tommy being weak and too fragile and useless to be able to fly. A chick like him isn’t safe on his own. Tommy doesn’t leave because something inside him is terrified of abandoning the ‘nest’ even though his real home is in L’Manburg.

After putting his stuff in a pit, Tommy accidentally stands too close. The blast catches him. Not the first time, one caught him a day or two ago and he rounded upon his abuser, cursing him out rather stupidly. But now Tommy drops to the ground, feathers fluffed up and pupils dilated as he freezes on the spot. The only movement he can manage is to reach for the man who hurt him in the first place. His distressed chirping noises are only capable of ceasing once he’s in his abuser’s arms. Or rather, his guardian’s embrace. Afterward, Tommy follows him everywhere, until he’s scolded at the nether portal, forced to wait until he comes back. It’s hours before Tommy realizes what he’s doing. The separation is agonizing.

He’s finally imprinted. Took the brat long enough. But Tommy is finally, finally in the palm of his hand, instincts ensnared in a chokehold.

Next>

[sumwan]

I rewrote c!Dream's wiki page last year, since it essentially had no sources for most text and it was also lacking a lot of information. But some may remember that back in 2021, that page was actually in a way worse state than when I started editing it (it was still in a bad state before I rewrote it, to be clear). I looked through the page's edit history a few times and always found some of the most biased and infuriating misinformation and dehumanization. There was just so much wrong that it would actually be funny, if this wasn't on a wiki page at some point that new viewers were using to get information on c!Dream.

For anyone who's curious, I've included screenshots below the cut of some of the misinformation that used to be on c!Dream's page.

This one stands out as one of the worst:

These are just some of the more notable things I've found. Keep in mind that none of this is on his page anymore, and (I hope) it's much better now after I rewrote it.

[hoglinz]

exile selfie ! !

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

oh my god. oh my god guys i figured it out.

you know how c!dream was writing fanfiction in jail?

the dsmp finale is his fanfic.

[barzfrommarz]

I saw this tweet bc w*lbur was trending (I wanted to know why) and I genuinely want to know why ppl think this. Why do you prefer a bland version of an interesting character who was carried by fanon infantilizing him and sanding out all of his actually interesting traits/characteristics? Like im sorry if hes ur fave or u like him better that fine obviously! But this is my honest opinion I genuinely think ghostbur is a worse version of alivebur and ppl only like him bc he was easy to infantilize and didnt hurt their faves (c!tommy cough cough).

[cdroloisms]

if you're still taking hot takes: a large portion of "dsmp" fanfics (sbi fics in particular) are actually just rpf fanfics about the ccs in alternate universes that claim to be about characters because that part of the fanbase views rpf as inherently immoral and thus feel the need to justify their rpf fics by slapping a /rp label on it

oh my goddd this one fr like "c!sbi is an established unit and then they adopt c!tommy into their family" is the premise of so many fics and THAT IS CC!SBI FANFIC. C!SBI DIDNT EXIST ??????? STRAIGHT UP DIDN'T EXIST . WHAT. "techno, wilbur, and philza made up the joint unit of sleepy boys inc and they adopted tommy within their ranks" is literally what happened with the streamers in real life like my god people . and when did that happen in the canon server lore ... ? LITERALLY NEVER ??

oftentimes fanfic in this fandom just borrows whatever dynamics they want from either the rpf or rp side like. "c!sbi versus c!dream" where the entire Point of it being "characters" is so that they can use their c!dream caricature evil dude (who coincidentally behaves literally nothing like c!dream)--like i'm sorry but i was here in 2020 and know what sleepytwt was like at the time, yall aint subtle (even if you're just carrying on the legacy of fandom members before you and dont actually even know the history you're writing lmao.)

[nekole-doodles]

Does anyone else think about the similarities between Lapis's and Jasper's relationship from Steven Universe and C! Disc Duo(Tommy and Dream)?

Because like- in Steven Universe, Lapis knew that Jasper is awful and is just using her, but admits that a part of her still misses Jasper. Then look at C! Disc Duo, where Tommy admits that Dream simultaneously makes Tommy like feel he has to be friends with Dream while also like he just wants to kill Dream. Also, I'm not completely sure if this was mentioned in the canon lore, but I think Tommy also said that a part of him still misses Dream despite being terrified of him.

It's so agdksnjs to me because AHHHHHH

Isn't the lore of Steven Universe and DSMP just the best and makes you want to scream?

[moondancer2303]

The Warden is looking after his prisoner.

[hopalongfairywren]

ngl i'm starting to get really irritated by all the eggpire tommy fics that once again, bastardize everyone else for c!tommy comfort (and the egg is apparently a good thing?)

[sioster]

Close ups & characters grouped up down below. Translations in image descriptions.

Only fandoms tagged are going to be dsmp and tfm cuz I ain't tagging 6 communities in one post.

Mad duo <3 babygirls. If the handwriting is bad, the song is "Be nice to me" by The Front Bottoms.

A bunch of osmpburs, [redacted] with little guys as stand ins for phil, bbh and foosh. Random cats & mice along with DST spider and Verdant skin Wilson.

Rivals <3 drat and d.. dcat? dritten i think. They look awful compared to this pretty Tech. The priettiest little piggy ever.

Armageddon's toll! Wilbur being a cute little bartender mouse :) Elisah the goddes of Transformice waa she's the pretty angel mouse we love her.

Every single possible thing in one place: Dream blobs, my Transformice oc, weird cats, Friend (I think), Pyro TF2 and Moon FNaF. I'm crying. This is how my brain looks like inside.

Random Tfm & Tfm Adventures mice and little Sun FNaF with blobs.

Individual crop for Mousefur since she got cut off </3 look at this absolute Queen.

I'm thrroiwng upp why does Wilson look so bad here please someone kill him, put him out of his misery. Webber DST my precious child, random kitty, obligatory Pogbur, DST Crawling Horror and some kind of Chica. No idea what version this is supposed to be.

Webber napping on Gloomer awwe. Zia-zia my favourite creature. Also little blobs :)

[blankweiss-sb]

Gift "Drabble"

For @hiding-in-the-vault

TW: Prison Arc + Post Prison, references to torture and eye removal

Summary: Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.

Or

Dream doesn't escape unscathed – mentally or physically.

The red stone pistons fired, the deep grumble distinctive from the ever present hissing of the lava. Dream didn’t dare lift his head or move his cheeks from the grimy, sticky floor of his cell.

Rule number whatever: Either be on your knees head bowed, or you better not have moved from the position Sir left you in.

Was Dream slightly bitter that even thinking Sir immediately called up an image of Quackity and tides of fear and anger? Yes. Would he show that bitterness? No. (Maybe Quackity would think he’d finally broken Dream but he hadn’t. Dream wasn’t quite broken yet, just brittle and fractured. If – when he got out, he’d just pour gold into all those cracks.)

Faintly, Dream heard it – the rustle of small feathers that could be crushed so very easily, the tapping of fingers against the wooden handle of a tool or weapon and a slight hum, the hum of a song Sap had loved. The lava curtains gurgled – please, red stone, fail, a moment of weakness gave itself a voice – before it fizzled out.

Sir bounced into the cell.

“Hullo, Dreamie, how are you? Comfy?”

Dream knew better than to answer. Quackity didn’t care, he just loved the sound of his voice too much. If Dream was lucky, Quackity would gloat, maybe kick Dream a couple of times and leave. That, Dream could endure, he could endure anything, anything but –

Fingertips stroked along the curve of Dream’s face, the one not pressed against crying obsidian and sticky maroon, and it was only the terrors of existence that prevented Dream from flinching. But nothing could have prevented Dream’s throat from releasing a whine when Quackity gently carded through Dream’s hair, almost petting him like a beloved dog.

“Awww, you’re doing good but being greedy, I see.”

Fuck you. Fuck you, Quackity, Dream thought as his head leaned into the comforting touch Sir was offering. It was his body seeking comfort, not Dream. It was his body being pathetic, wanting his torturer to be gentle. It was his body. Not Dream.

“You can be cute. But that’s not why I’m here, not today, puppy!” Don’t call me that. “I’m giving you a gift, look –“

Quackity burst out in little giggles, giggles Sapnap used to gush about. Sapnap had called them more adorable than a baby piglin. Dream had teased him about that, by that time already missing George pressed against his side and joining in on the fun. Teasing his brother had always been one of Dream’s favorite things and George loved to needle Sapnap, too.

A sharp of burst ripped through Dream’s skull as Quackity’s hand grabbed his hair tightly and pulled Dream up until Dream’s scalp was burning. “Listen to me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Two, three seconds more and Quackity let Dream’s head fall, huffing.

“And here I was about to clean you up, wash you, but no. You had to be bad. A bad puppy.” Dream flinched and Quackity’s laugh was more than delighted, echoing between obsidian walls. “Anyway, here you go, you’re going to need this.”

Something cold settled on Dream’s face and – comfort washed over Dream as he realized it was the cold porcelain of a mask, a mask Dream knew quite well. Greedily he sucked in some air and through the stale scent of copper coils and bracken water and burnt out embers, he caught a whiff of earthy flowers.

(“Earthy flowers? Are you serious?” Dream had laughed, pressing his shoulders against Sapnap’s. George had already been snoring, his legs hanging over Sapnap’s lap and his head nuzzling Dream’s stomach.

“Man, you asked me how you were smelling. Earthy flowers. Deal with it, it’s sort of disgusting.” But the tips of Sapnap’s ears had been a brilliant red.

“Someone’s lying~ But that’s ok. I like your hearth embers and George’s bark and petrichor, too.”

“Pe – tri – chor,” Sapnap had mocked. Yet he had relaxed into Dream and – they had slept, together and bonds untorn.)

It was Dream’s mask, not a replica, but his own.

Despite this meaning nothing good, Dream sank into old comfort. The safe feeling was soured by Quackity once again running his hands through Dream’s hair. “Things are going to get exciting,” he crowed, no, that’d be an insult to the death goddess and her harbringers, Quackity quacked. “Better to keep a few things mysterious, right? I’ll be generous and let you rest up.”

Dream didn’t know what Quackity meant until the next day when the pistons fired up and someone swaggered over the bridge. The bars slammed down, Techno grunted as he sprung the trap and it clicked in Dream’s mind.

Time passed.

Sir didn’t enter the prison.

How Techno didn’t realize one tiny but largely important fact was beyond Dream but he couldn’t help being grateful.

How Dream managed to escape with Technoblade was also beyond him.

(Sir had managed to shatter Dream – after Technoblade vanished. Sir had not only dug into all the cracks he’d made but also ensured that not even respawning would ever give back Dream’s sight. There had been a slight, incredibly miniscule chance that Dream could have regained his eye sight but… hard to do that without the vital part of eye sight.

Sir had left Dream cold and raw and – there had been moments.

Dream had even hallucinated at one point, must have imagined trembling hands cleaning him up, a lullaby he hadn’t heard since he was ten being sobbed against his ears and a determined vow being seared against his temple. The voice had sounded like Bad, but Bad hated him, guarded him even, offered suggestions like Dream’s loathing of being alone in the dark to Sir. )

“I refuse. You have done more than enough, he can look after himself now.” The coldness in Philza’s screech was more than biting, was cutting when Technoblade didn’t refute his statement.

Once again Dream’s weakness took over and he wasted a minute on hope, begged Technoblade without the right words or gestures but surely, surely Technoblade picked up on it – “See ya later, nerd, stay safe.”

I’m not seeing anything, settled heavy on Dream’s tongue but – Philza was there, feathers scraping against wooden planks. He must be flaring his wings before refolding them. Rinse and repeat.

It wasn’t pride stopping Dream from saying those words. It was Caution. Philza already was irritated with Dream – Dream, objectively, had harmed the man’s family greatly and in various ways. And in an altercation, there was no world in which Technoblade wouldn’t side with Philza.

So Dream bowed, once, the proper Admin way, and darted off into the forest, barely hearing a sudden intake of breath behind him, probably Philza’s. Technoblade wasn’t an Admin, he wouldn’t have known what Dream’s bow had meant.

They didn’t chase after him, anyways.

That first night Dream almost died five times.

The server refused to reconnect to him – a weak Admin was something no World wanted, vulnerability was undesired – and so Dream had to trust his ears and nose, rather than an innate sense of the World.

Twice the rattling of Skeleton bones was barely enough to get ready for the screeching of arrows flying through the air and aiming directly at Dream’s heart. Muscle memory was, thankfully, enough for Dream to land crits against the Skeletons, even though his own frame didn’t differ much from the Skeletons.

Once a zombie almost ripped into Dream’s leg and would have infected him. Dream was already on the ground, having tripped over a root and landing on a patch of ice that sent him careening through the snow. He’d been contemplating just curling up and sleeping when the zombie fell over him. A kick and crit had taken care of the zombie.

Twice, the environment itself, the World – hadn’t that smarted – had turned against him, giving him no warnings as ravines opened up in front of him. Only hearing the echo of stones crumbling and falling, falling, falling before the unbreakable hit the bottom and shattered into a thousand pieces not even gold could glue back together had warned him.

Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.

That first night ended and his first day in freedom dawned – judging from the birdsong sneaking through the tree leaves and into Dream’s cave.

Dream didn’t have the energy to stand up.

More hallucinations haunted his sleep – if it was sleep. His body felt too heavy, his thoughts too hazy for him to be sleeping but – at one point, the hallucination of Bad took root in his mind. Dream heard Bad coo, felt Bad heave him into a bed that Dream certainly hadn’t made, cried while Bad tucked him and drew covers tight around him.

“Sleep tight, good dreams will arrive, cupcake,” the hallucination’s voice quivered as rough, scarred fingers slipped underneath Dream’s mask and tugged it off. The hallucination wanted to card through Dream’s hair and it did, detangling the knots, casting Dream’s drifty mind back to the days of happiness and – “Shh, Clay. I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

Dream wailed, his throat giving out on him. All the while, the hallucination kept touching him, gently, like Bad loved him, like Bad was here, like Bad cared.

(Love and care were two different shoes. Surely, Sapnap and George still loved Dream but they had shown that they didn’t care for him.)

(Dream was forgetting something. Or someone. Heat was lancing through his brain, pain a deliberating force on everything that was him. How his mind still had enough force to call upon a hallucination with the ability to mimic the sensation of touch he didn’t know. But there was someone else, an agenda, Dream was forgetting.)

(Clay hated getting sick, not only because he couldn’t play with Pandas but because he couldn’t help demanding attention. To be fair, Bad would always give it to him.

“I’m dying,” Clay sobbed, writhing against the covers Bad had forced him under. “It’s too hot, it hurts, I am dying!”

“Shh, you silly, silly cupcake.” Bad chuckled, gently stroking over Clay’s head. Those fingers were so good, they spanned half his head and… Bad was starting to mindlessly but gently tug at all of Clay’s knots, tutting whenever another appeared in the long locks of Clay’s hair. “You’ll be ok, I’m here.”

Whenever Bad acted like this, Clay could pretend that Bad wasn’t only Pandas’ Dad but also his own, and fierce, fierce love wrecked Clay’s body together with the many illnesses he suffered.

One day, one day Clay would create a server for them, for Bad and Pandas and himself and anyone else he loved. He knew he was strong enough, as were his convictions and dreams.)

Energy trickled back into Dream, day by day. The hallucination stayed, far longer than Dream expected it to, offering comfort and safety and the weakness was too strong. Dream, shamefully, gave in.

Until one day the rustle of wings, the wind whistling through feathers just outside his and his hallucination’s cave broke the spell.

“Mate?”

Not Sir, not Sir at all but –

“Get out.” His hallucination growled and the air pulsed with heat and old power – and there was no way that Dream’s stitched together mind could have replicate Bad’s aura when he was pissed and protecting someone. (Someone, not something, an important distinction.)

“Bad Boy Halo, I –“

“Leave before I make you leave. You offered no help, worse, you rejected sanctuary.”

“I didn’t know.”

Bad snorted and responded. Philza said words as well but – Dream had already lost the thread, his mind fuzzy with realizations and too full, too broken to comprehend anything. Until –

“Had I known he was blind and a baby Admin, he wouldn’t have left my house!” Feathers hit the stone walls. Or did feathers scrape along obsidian, crying in sync with the dripping walls? Sir was back, wasn’t he –

Scarred hands cradled Dream’s cheeks and a pair of leathery wings sneaked around and under Dream’s frame. The hands didn’t move. They just held his face and provided an anchor for his mind.

“Bad…” How to say the things he had to say, how to ask questions, how –

Dream’s head is pressed to a dark throat and his breath hitched. Too often Dream had been in this position whenever the world got too big, or he got too big for the world and it bared its fangs at him. Being settled against the thrum of Bad’s heart hadn’t rightened all the wrongs in the world but it had always – always – made them manageable.

“I’m here, Dream. Don’t you worry.”

Dream believed him and let himself fall into trust.

One more time.