#drea my beloved thank you

[dunkzillla]

Please tell me all the things about cruise AU! (If that's stumping you at the moment, I would also love any thoughts you have about shelterverse - because I'm stumped!)

drea my beloved I will give u some of both bc I love u!

cruise ship au, oh I have so many of this if only I could get it out

— no matter what on board management say, yuta and danny definitely don’t sleep with the guests. okay, they do, but not that many, okay, and it’s only because those month long cruises can get lonely, and you should under no circumstances, sleep with your coworkers.

— they have to be on their best behaviour on this particular trip, though, because brother in law to the owner of the cruise line, mr regal, is making the trip with his associates, mox, bryan and claudio, and any bad behaviour that gets back to the owner would be sure to get them fired.

— yuta and danny try their hardest, honestly, to be on their best behaviour. but regal is a flirt who keeps requesting yuta when he requires assistance, and bryan thinks danny should know more about yoga if he’s going to be the one to lead the yoga classes.

— before long, yuta and danny have found themselves, quite literally, in bed with the most important guests on the ship and trying to be very discreet about it. it doesn’t help that their bosses are being extra vigilant of their movements because of their track record — queue lots of awkward hiding in tiny cruise ship closets and rapid speed dressing when their boss is hot on their heels whenever they’re around their important guests.

shelterverse because I still have so much love for this

— bryan is totally over nigel. he really is. he doesn’t get any feelings whatsoever when they have to team up to take on a difficult rescue. it’s not like nigel looks good in his utility pants and polo shirt, on his hands and knees trying to coax a kitten out from under an abandon building.

— the rest of their respective crews have a bet going as to when they’ll end up fucking. well, mox thinks they’ll fuck, sami thinks they’ve fall back in love and kevin really just wants some peace and quiet so he can finish balancing the books

— a potential adopter has a bunch of cats, and bryan is hesitant to send a dog to a home with so many cats, so nigel goes along to help bryan assess the situation and whether the home is suitable. road trip fun! bickering, hashing out old arguments, and maybe a kiss and heavy petting happens.

[lanafofana]

put a fanfic trope in my inbox and I will tell you:

how likely I am to write it

what character(s) or pairing I’d most likely write it for.

How about betrayal fic, crack fic, or crossover? 💕

Hello and thankyou for the ask!! 😘💖

There's a lot to cover so let’s fucking goooooo

Betrayal!

Friend, I have never before thought about writing betrayal (outside of the misunderstanding trope) before but ooh this ask has my gears turning!

I think if I was going to tackle this it would be in one of these types of scenarios:

Astarion x Durge - What if at the end of BG3 Durge attempts to pull his massive betrayal BUT is unsuccessful and now Astarion has to move on from that point. Falling in love with someone and trusting them so much all to find it was for naught? Holy angst batman 🤤

Tav x Durge- you know me and my TavxDurge brain rot, but what if instead of Durge (arguably the one with higher likelihood of pulling a sudden Judas) doing the betrayal it’s Tav? Ooh and what if it pushed him into a more unstable state where he’s even more on the cusp of embracing those dark urges? Yeeeee

Crack

I am 10000% likely to write crack. Crack is some of my favorite stuff to write. There's a lot of freedom in just writing whatever unhinged nonsense flits across the brain and I enjoy imagining dialogue that just goes completely off the rails. And crack treated seriously? Yes yes yes yes. Give me absurd situations to put my blorbos in. Let them say the most hilariously off the wall stuff but in context, still make sense.

As for characters/pairings? Probably almost all of them. No one is safe from me.

Crossover my beloved!!!!

A Lana crossover original? It's more likely than you think!

Guess who has been quietly writing a Baldurs Gate Three/Dragon Age Inquisition crossover? Is it crack? Yes.

Because when I started playing DAI I kept thinking how fucking funny it would be for Shadowheart to lose the Sharran Wound only to end up in Thedas and immediately get the Mark of “Andraste.” Like???? My girl cannot catch a fucking break 🤣 And for pairing? I’m still working that out.

Aside from that, I love a good crossover. I also played around with the idea of someone from Thedas dropped into Faerûn which, as a concept, I fucking love. But I have not had the time to really pursue it much (yet).

Possible pairings thoughts?

Dorian x Gale. Do I even need to explain this hello

Tav x Varric. LET ME LOVE THE DWARF BIOWARE YOU COWARDS

Inquisitor x Wyll. Because that's what heroes do (each other).

Sera x Lae'zel. No shut up, I'm right. No, I will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you.

Solas x Halsin. Because why wouldn't Halsin want to fuck the drea(I am forcibly removed from the podium)

[cdroloisms]

take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic

MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)

The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED

title obviously from win it all by derivakat

---

Michael loves MCC.

But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.

tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes

(16k words !! :D long boi) 

Michael loves MCC.

Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete. 

Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now. 

Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news. 

The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright. 

Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now. 

Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-

Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots. 

There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine. 

(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?) 

---

Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all. 

It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen. 

Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?

It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it. 

You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?

Quackity whispers to you: yes

Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs. 

“Michael!” 

He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air. 

“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”

“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”

Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!” 

Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves. 

“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”

Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands. 

“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly. 

“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?” 

“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.” 

“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”

“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”

“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”

Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”

“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”

Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice. 

And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices. 

“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”

“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”

“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return. 

---

There’s no real easy answer.

Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest. 

Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all? 

Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands. 

He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team. 

Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs. 

They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!” 

In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation. 

“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return. 

“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”

He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.

“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”

“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”

Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”

Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak. 

“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?” 

Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time. 

---

Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.

“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”

“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?” 

Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?” 

The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in. 

“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?” 

Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud. 

“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.” 

“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.” 

Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”

His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter. 

“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.” 

A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream. 

“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for. 

---

They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena. 

He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.

Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops. 

“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again. 

“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!” 

It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up. 

“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge. 

“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.

“LEFT!”

Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway. 

“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.” 

“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.” 

The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.

“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.

Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out. 

---

Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best. 

He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail. 

It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-

“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”

Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”

Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly. 

“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”

“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.” 

After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions- 

“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”

“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”

“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?” 

It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut. 

There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps. 

---

Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well. 

Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to. 

Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before. 

“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Like you did that much.” 

Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye. 

“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs. 

“Fair.” 

A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow. 

The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future. 

His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever. 

They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team. 

That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits. 

Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.

Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”

“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”

“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”

“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?” 

Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they? 

Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body. 

Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well? 

---

They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further. 

“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”

Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”

They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him. 

“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”

“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own. 

“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”

“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”

“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?” 

Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”

“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”

“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words. 

“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?” 

“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.” 

“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?” 

Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s  worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red. 

“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?” 

A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome. 

He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break. 

“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain. 

“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” 

---

Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own. 

“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”

Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake. 

“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”

“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”

Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”

“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”

Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point. 

“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”

“No.” 

Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.” 

There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time. 

Keep your head down. 

“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.” 

---

Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race. 

“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!” 

“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.” 

Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again. 

“Thanks, guys.” 

They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings. 

“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?” 

“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.” 

“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”

Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs. 

“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?” 

“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”

“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”

Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back. 

“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.

---

“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”

“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?” 

Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.

“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!” 

This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.

Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition. 

It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down. 

“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it. 

With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap. 

The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter. 

“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder. 

“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own. 

“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it. 

Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off. 

Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-

Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off. 

Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak. 

“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod. 

“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”

Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams,  watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team - 

Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering  into the sky.

---

Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena. 

“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?” 

He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners. 

“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route. 

Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out. 

He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused. 

“Gottem.” 

“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”

Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting. 

With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them. 

Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby. 

“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?” 

The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.

It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective. 

Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second - 

“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!” 

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own. 

Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue. 

They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay. 

The smile slips off his face. 

They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-

Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on. 

Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what? 

He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply. 

---

“Shit-”

Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.

Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it. 

An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.

A sudden shock of clarity. 

He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all. 

Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow. 

With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

Keep your head down. 

Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.

Not this time.

Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red. 

---

“What the hell was that?” 

Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence. 

“I- I-”

“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“Back the hell off, Quackity.”

Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look  above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-” 

“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?” 

The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter. 

“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-” 

“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”

“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?” 

Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.

“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”

Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”

Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?” 

“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”

“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features. 

“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“...liar.” 

“What?”

Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down. 

“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”

Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-

-a second passes, and he throws himself forward. 

“Quackity!” 

Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-

“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-” 

The world explodes into white.

When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops. 

“LET’S GO!” 

(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows. 

“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”

“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”

“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time. 

He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself- 

“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)

“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.” 

“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?” 

Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze. 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.” 

“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”

“...I don’t feel so good.”

Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.

“Dream-”

There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder. 

“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp. 

---

When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention. 

Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.

“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.” 

Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..” 

“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.” 

“Thanks for everything, Scott.” 

Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.” 

He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.

Well. Here goes nothing. 

He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.

“Michael?” 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?” 

“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.” 

“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him. 

“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.” 

“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached. 

“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”

“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.” 

Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”

Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.” 

“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure. 

“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?” 

Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head. 

“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.” 

“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly. 

“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”

Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.

“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.” 

“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.” 

Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.

“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life. 

“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.” 

Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow. 

“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?” 

[kiuda]

Hello kiuda my beloved I have some fluffy hcs.

//rp

Some time after techno got imprisoned, he woke up one day to see dream gone and replaced by a little white blob.

He immediately made the connection because the little guy looked roughed up and had similar injuries to dream.

Techno immediately put him him in a pocket of his blanket, so he can sleep and relax in there but still close to him, so he doesn't feel alone.

Once they escaped, dream was hesistant to return back to his old form. While he was worried the synadicate was going to be angry, they accepted him no matter what form he was in.

The safer dream felt, the more often he turned back into his human form but when he was scared, tired, or didnt want to talk to anyone, he turns into a blob.

Bonus:

They make small things for blob dream. A small sweater, a small scarf, a little pillow for the bed, techno also made an extra pocket for blob dream in his cloak, so he can be higher and see more when Technoblade carries him around

Peppsta my beloved thank you <3

Blob Dream is one of my favourite Dreams I will hold him gently and hope he is always happy and warm and comfortable and safe 💚💚

And here are some blob Drea doodles <3

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Miss drea hi I finally made time and sit down and read vampy and I am literally rolling on the floor like a soccer ball climbing the walls buzzing like a bug pushing my hair off my head screaming crying throwing up I’m literally feeling like a piñata the story is so good like SO GOOD IM HSXISUSHSBSKBONK!/!-$:8/&

BUZZING LIKE A BUGKEMFMSKD IM FUCKING HOLLERIGNMRMGKRMFMFK IM SO FUCKING GLAD YOU LIKE IT BESTIE, HE’S LEYLA AND I’S BELOVED CHILD 🥹🥹🥹🥹 THANK YOU SM FOR READING AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY WHATS TO COME FOR THE REST OF THE STORY

[iridescentides]

15-20? :-)

thank you so so much for sending this mer!

15: Talk about some of your favorite creators: what do you love most about their creations?

okay well first off MER you blow me away with all your complex layouts on your gifsets!

CHAR my beloved @rockyblue literally invented the colors blue and purple and she also gifs for multiple fandoms i love

drea @thankunnext's gifs are always so full n rich n vibrant in coloring

16: List some creators that always inspire you with their creations and talent!

two people who constantly inspire me are vega @favoriteliar and neve @aleksandr-morozova bc they both have such diverse skillsets and endless creativity and are always pushing to do more and more cool stuff with their gifs

17: Do you enjoy working with gifs?

i LOVE gifs and i think i prefer them over everything else at this point just bc ive gotten so comfortable n skilled with them

18: Do you enjoy creating graphics?

not my favorite (mostly bc i hate cutting out shapes by hand (its why i dont change my icon super often)) but i love seeing what other people can make! i feel like graphics can be so creative

19: Do you like mixing up your style and trying new stuff, or do you prefer to have a more consistent style?

i change up my style a lot! im pretty consistent about vibrant coloring, but as far as layouts and effects and stuff, im always trying new stuff. its the best way to grow!

20: A creator you look up to!

today was becca @inejz-ghafa's spotlight day on my blog and i look up to her so much! she literally takes the source material and makes completely new art out of it, like idk how she does it but every gifset is so precise n perfect n creative

[andieperrie18]

Night at the Opera (R.Taylor x Opera singer reader) (prt.1)

PROMPT: Freddie's has twin who is an opera singer. And she meets her brother's band on her surprise arrival.

Freddie has a sister, a twin to be exact that they have been supportive of each other since they were kids. Y/n Bulsara loved her brother dearly and Freddie in vice versa. They are the first fan of each other when they achieve their dreams.

Freddie and Y/n both have the same dream and that is to sing and they are total fan of operas when their family first took to one in London. The male loved the idea of singing one day in a stage but he didn't want to be stuck in one genre but for Y/n she wanted the spotlight, singing a note higher that her own voice, the orchestra singing to her very voice and the crowd astounded by her voice that will send them to the heavens.

"All the shines of the thousand spotlights~

All the stars we steal from the night sky will---"

A knock from her room door woke her from her focus as she founds Freddie walking to the side of her bed, plopping to her left as he places an arm around her.

"Hows your lyrics coming up?"

"It's coming up pretty well, for me I guess." Her voiced slowly dropped to a whisper at the end.

"Come on now darling sister, you can't be thinking negatively at the moment. Mum, Dad and I we'll be there at your audition, if it makes you feel better, I'll be the first to applaud you." The male encouraged as she stared at him, her heart clenching from the huge amount of emotions the gesture is generating within her.

"You really think I could do this?" She tries to reassure.

Another wide smile glowed upon her brother's face before he placed a loving kiss on her forehead.

"Y/n buttercup, you will be the English Nightingale of London."

And the title was now forever etched to her heart. Y/n got her big break when she sang her first piece she had written for her brother in her first live audition opera where contestants like her will already have the biggest audience in the industry of music. And with her song, she sang to the world how her brother always been the best and the most hardworking person in the world despite his dislike to his own race. She sang, and sang that even her parents didn't even know that she could reach. She sung and sung her heart out that every lyrics hits Freddie to tears that had him screaming "WE LOVE YOU BUTTERCUP!! SO PROUD OF YOU" after the performance. And he kept his promise to be the first one to applaud followed by her parents then the whole audience, asking for an encore along the way. Although the whole performance is pure acappella with a few brilliant insertions of the conductor, she succeeds. Y/n landed a lot of projects and signing the week after. At first she didn't like it as she would be driven away from her home, her family's comfort but with another pep talk from her twin and her supported parents and other siblings, she went on her career.

As the year pass, the girl with a big drea, grew up to be a woman of vision. Every year the bigger her crowd grew, either the twice or thrice than her first one. Along her maturity, her creativity grew as well. Creating song after song that never fails to hit the very hearts of her audience. Her secret, she writes about her family.

"Y/n dearie, beta would be very happy to see you come home early! Oh he also said that he will bring friends as well!!" Your mother chirped through the phone as you could only smie in delight, you have been on tour from all around Europe for five years.

Y/n M/n Bulsara became Y/n Night, the English Nightingale of London.

Though Y/n told your handler that she'd rather prefer her real name, she just went along but always introduce herself in her real in parties. Her open mindedness and quick maturity from a girl to a woman didn't allow any bad critiques, comments and backstab to stain her good nature.

She always remember her father's word as it kept her standing on the top till the day.

"Good Words. Good Thoughts. Good Deeds." She would mumble to herself at all time when she comes to a party or before she comes to the stage to do her thing.

"I miss him so much mom, I miss you, dad and Kash. I can finally see your faces again." Y/n whimpers, as she thought of the long years of longing for the people she loved. How alone she felt.

"We all do buttercup. We all do and now your coming home! And I am so thankful Mr. Groban for allowing you to rest for a year!"

The call ended with her father switching with her mother, him crying through the call of how much he missed his darling buttercup. Y/n cried in so much joy that night, that she was getting antsy to leave her hotel room and hop in to her flight to London.

Now, she actually has one last show before her break begins and that is in London which was a perfect moment to have her family watch how much she has grown as an operatic singer. Cyrus Groban her handler and the conductor who had discovered her had always been kind and the old man would gladly and humble accept any request from her as he already saw her as his own child.

Roger Taylor sat beside Kashmira in the dining table with an attempt of flirting here. The table littered with conversations, Mary's father eyeing Freddie across him ever since he witness his mouth say quite informal words toward her daughter. It went for quite awhile until Freddie's mother began about their origin, about Freddie being born in Zanzibar. She began to distributing the photo album that contain all memoirs of the Bulsaras. Freddie left the table as he isn't really talking about his origin. Roger could tell that as he watched the said man from across the room trying to drown the conversation as he sings.

"Mrs. Bulsara, I was wondering but I kept seeing this girl with Freddie every once in a while in each pictures? Who is she?" Mary said, attempting to fix the rather awkward situation even the male across them had immediately smiled at the topic that was about unfold. To her luck, the mood did lift when Freddie's young sister Kash spoke in a rather lively tone.

"OH-oh! That's Y/n!! Our eldest sister and his twin. They were really inseparable back when we were kids!!"

Roger finally had a turn to photo album, he did notice the constant appearance of the girl y/n in each picture that has Freddie on it. The two would either had an arm on each other, or hugging. He found it quite adorable how the girl would have Freddie lock in her arms.

"She's hugger isn't she. You're looking rather choke up here mate." The drummer cracked earning a few laughs from the company.

"Y/n always had the best hugs." Kash muttered, looking rather sad at the end. Freddie walked behind her sister, placing hands on her shoulder for comfort as Kash held his hand in return from the gesture.

"I remember we would sing together while playing piano. She would always hit the highest note like it was nothing." Freddie told them while rubbing her sister's shoulder.

"She sings?" Brian smiled, his heart warmed with the way the siblings speak of their other sibling.

"In an Opera, she's really great. I am one day hoping I get to see her sing again on a stage."

Mary stared at her man as she marvel's the sparkle in his eyes as she he speaks of her twin sister like she was the best person in the world.

Roger, Deacy and Brian had never seen their lead vocalist be so compasionate about a person unless its Mary. The way he tells them about how he would bond with her sent smiles to their lips.

"Where is she?" Roger asked as he eyed a photo of Y/n where she is standing on a stage, singing with a smile.

"She's touring around Europe."

"WOW! She's a big time singer."

"You could say that." Kash answered. "She probably call us tonight.

Bomi and Jer left the table to get more photos, the table was drowning on and on about the child hood the Bulsara twins had.

" You all must really miss her." John muffled in his palm, staring at Freddie mainly. "We do."

Roger smiled at him as he was now rather intrigued with the existence of this second sibling.

"Ahh, I'd give anything to see buttercup again. I'd give her the biggest bear hug!!!"

**"Why don't you give it to me now then?" **

A female voice made everyone sitting by the table turn to its owner, except for Freddie who was stunned at the sudden familiar voice.

They eyed the female from the far entrance of the dining room. She had long (h/c) hair that cascaded down her shoulders with grace. Wearing a bohemian dress under white fur coat, her body perfectly shaped through the fabric and lastly a pair of beige open toe stilletos. Roger was eyeing her, not even bothering to blink at the moment. This person wasn't a girl like the ones in the photo anymore, this is a woman. Her chin up, as if she was some royalty.

Kash, was the first to react, removing herself from Roger's side and tackling the woman in a hug.

"Y/N!!!"

Freddie slowly spun to meet the gaze of his beloved sister. And ten strides across him stood his twin, his blurred like water as she stared at the beautiful woman across him.

"Hello Freddie." She smiled.

Waiting not a moment longer, the Parsini male strided towards his twin within seconds. His arms enveloping her waist and hers around her shoulders.

"You're home!! YOU'RE ACTUALLY HOME FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!"

Roger had his eyes on Y/n the whole time, barely even allowing himself to look anywhere. It seems that her arrival lifted the spirits of the people in that celebration, that it had completely tampered mood of their parents.

Mary, oh how the girl fell in love with her personality the moment she saw her speaking to her father, in complete sign language. She could see the sparkle in her father's eyes as he conversed with this woman and seeing the delight in her face made Freddie smile.

"When did you learn to sign language, Y/n? You seem a bit awfully good with it?" Brian opened as he had answered everyone's question in their minds.

"Oh I learned it when I was ten. I practically father to get me into classes as it always intrigued me on how people do it in the telly." Y/n answered, her voice flow like silk in the blonde males head from across her. Roger loved it, he can only imagine how his name would sound like in her voice.

"I have a reason to believe that one's a lie." Freddie pour a glass of water on Y/n's glass as she sent him a face.

"It's true!"

"Well yes darling, thats the second reason. But mum knew the real reason you did it. Don't you mother?"

Jer smiled at the question, her eyes lingering to her daughter.

"I went to her school one day to fetch her, I was waiting for her to come outside until her teacher came towards me and asked if I was her mother and if I could come with her."

Every ears and eyes around the room were trained on the mother.

"They led me to the school library where I found buttercup 'talking' to two kids about her age in the moving language. The teacher we quite curious to how she learned sign language just a few weeks after the foreign exchange students who had speaking disorder just came in. They told me that she's been attempting to talk to them since day one but because of their problem, they can't converse rather well."

Y/n smiled at the memory of her childhood as her father caressed her hand in pure delight. Kash rested beside her with her arm around her figure.

"You learned it for your friends? Wow, thats a very great thing to do." Deacy complimented earning a thankful nod from the female.

"Yeah, I did. Jean and Pedro have been my friends for quite awhile now and we still do. They finally got their disorder cured as they were to speak again after we graduated at uni. The two are working with me now."

"Your sister says you are an Opera singer. How's that career going for you?" Roger finally had the chance to speak, he almost jolted when she met his eyes, the way they glowed made his do aswell.

"Yes, yes I do. Oh! Which reminds me about my last tour. I would like to invite all off you to my last Opera performance for the year."

Freddie's face curled with the term last. Y/n saw this, she took his hand and smiled wider and brighter.

"Last, because I'll be on a year and half break." This returned him to his positive state but twice higher.

@mercurycrowley

[welcometophu]

Into the Split: Reinforcements 2

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Reinforcements 2

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Dinner is an ongoing affair. The big room at the center of the house reminds Nikolai starkly of the same room in Havenhill, and it’s easy to understand how Alaric would have been off-balance there. Food is set up along the outer edges, and tables have been placed in the center. People take what they want and drift from place to place, either standing and talking, or settling in at a table for a time.

It’s easy to get lost, or overwhelmed.

Every time Nikolai blinks, it seems as if someone new arrives. Rory introduces him to his mother and fathers and later to his grandparents as well. Alaric is in the middle of introducing several Clan from other communities when one loud girl arrives and brashly interrupts to pounce on the back of one the girls with Alaric. When most of the Clan group leaves, Dayton carries Stormy on her back, a small parade of others following behind.

At the sound of a shriek, Nikolai looks to the door and spots a small child—the youngest he’s seen at the gather tonight—barreling across the room. She throws her arms around Alaric’s legs, then lifts her arms high and demands to be picked up. He does so, fitting her on her hip and spinning around so that her brightly colored knit cape swings out.

Across the room, Val stands with a skinny teen. She smiles fondly as she watches.

Nikolai grasps for Seth to hold on to. “Alaric,” he says quietly, waiting until he stops spinning. “I thought you didn’t know Val.”

“Hm?” Alaric’s gaze follows where Nikolai points.

The small girl in his arms waves wildly. “Mama! Elijah! Come meet Alaric! He’s a dog!”

She slips down slightly as Alaric’s hold loosens, his fingers momentarily slack. He grabs on, hoisting her up again. “Only sometimes, Miranda,” he says, hand steady on her back.

“Only sometimes,” she agrees. “You’ve never met my Mama.”

“I haven’t.” Alaric slowly lowers Miranda to the ground, making sure she’s settled. His expression is closed and tight. “You’re right. I should.”

“Maybe they’re both bedrock,” Nikolai murmurs. Maybe this is a turning point when Val and Alia meet on this world. Maybe them not being together is how their worlds diverged, and he can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. In many ways, Havenhill is far ahead of where the Haverhill community is now. But his world overall is in far more dire straights.

Val approaches, her hand out and a steady smile in her expression. “You’re Alaric. My name is Valentine, and this is Miranda’s older brother, Elijah. I’m glad we finally got to meet. When I heard that Susan, Allison, and David were planning to come, I asked if my family could join your Gather. Miranda was excited to come to your home.”

Alaric takes her hand, shakes it without letting go after. “Do you know my mother?” he asks, a soft growl under his words.

“I—” Valentine tugs her hand free, takes a step back. “I don’t know. It’s possible we crossed paths in the past. Did she attend PHU like you do?”

“Most of us do.”

Her smile is thinner, stretched a little too wide. “Then it’s a possibility. You’ll have to introduce us when you get a chance. All I know so far is that her son is excellent with fiber work, and good with small children. She obviously raised you well.”

Miranda tugs at Alaric, and he picks her up again while half-distracted. His skin is pale, and it’s a moment before he replies, “I’ll take you to her. And thank you.”

Seth tugs at Nikolai. “This would be a really good time for us to step out,” he murmurs.

Alaric turns around, and Nikolai remembers then that he has excellent hearing. “You can go anywhere in the community that you’d like, although I don’t recommend driving. Not everywhere has roads,” Alaric says quietly. “Just don’t get into anything someone might consider personal.”

“The house where we stayed in Havenhill?” Seth asks.

Alaric expression twists into distaste. “If you want. It’s worse here than there. No one considers it habitable. And there’s only the one. Ignore the mess. My father wrecked part of it when he lost his mind briefly.”

That statement makes Nikolai curious, but Alaric is already turning away, Miranda in his arms as he stiffly heads for Alia with Valentine and Elijah in his wake.

Seth squeezes Nikolai’s fingers, and Nikolai nods. Yes. It’s time to go. There are far too many people here.

Nikolai can breathe more easily when they emerge from the house. More cars are parked in front than he remembers being in the parking lot of the store where they got clothes after they first arrived in this world. He reads the license plates: New York, of course, but also Ohio, Massachusetts, Maine, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Maryland, Pennsylvania… there are representatives from all over the northeast and beyond.

“I take it we’re not the only ones getting claustrophobic?” Nate’s voice is cheery as he waves from where he crouches off to one side, lacing up his sneakers. “Dax is heading that way. We’re going to go do something he doesn’t want to do, if you want to come along.”

Nikolai looks around, expecting someone else. “Where’s Cass?”

“Inside with the rest of the SigPsiE contingent. I think Drea’s claimed sisterly rights or something in order to introduce them all to all of her friends. Besides, she’s… getting better about not being attached to Dax every second of the day.” Nate straightens up slowly, arching his back as he stretches. “I’d thought about getting Dax to go on a run, but we can walk if you want to go with us.”

“What are you going to go do?” Seth asks. “We were going to head out to the place where we stayed in our world’s community.” His gaze shifts to where Dax stands. It looks like he’s heading toward the house, or somewhere along the way. Even Nikolai can see that he’s stiff, before Seth comments, “He’s definitely apprehensive.”

“We’re going to talk to a ghost.” Nate gestures, and they follow, catching up to Dax. “We’ve got company.”

“I’m sure Orson will be thrilled,” Dax mutters. “Running?” He has on sneakers as well, bounces on his toes. He’s graceful for someone so broad and tall, whereas Nate looks a little more like an antelope, all arms and legs.

“Unless something’s chasing us, I’d rather not,” Seth replies.

Dax shrugs and starts walking down the path. Nikolai remembers this way between the Benford house and the big house in Havenhill. It had been clearer there, with more small houses and outbuildings leading off the path. This road is open for a ways, then it closes down to a narrow path between the trees, definitely walking only, as if it’s traveled only rarely.

Nikolai doesn’t remember there being a cemetery in Havenhill, but there is definitely one here, off the path a long ways, much farther of a hike than he’d expected to take. He can’t see it in the distance when they start out, but Dax leads them there with ease. They pause at the edge marked by the first graves. There are footsteps in the mud outside, and paths worn through the grass above the graves. Some are marked by flowers or plants, others plain aside from the headstone. Dax hesitates, eyes closed and hands clenched.

“We are not going to talk to a ghost,” he says slowly. “I am. And I’m going to do my best to just talk to the one ghost. Which hasn’t been difficult in the past, but something’s riled up the spirits here. They’re much chattier than before. Would’ve been nice for Alex to warn me.”

“Do Alex’s warnings actually make sense?” Nate asks.

Dax huffs. “You have a point. C’mon. Orson’s right over here.”

The grave is newer than the others, the grass still new and sparse, fresh growth in the spring. It is well kept, however, with ivy climbing the stone and hostas around the base. The stone is bright and still sharp from the fresh cutting only months before.

Orson Herne. Beloved Son and Brother.

He was only twenty-two when he died.

Dax crouches on the fresh grass, his fingers just skimming the tops of the tiny blades. “Hey,” he says quietly, looking at the stone. “Long walk to get here, but you know that. Like Alaric said, this place wasn’t built for people like us. Everyone else can run on four legs, or fly.”

He smiles slightly. “You have a point. It’s tough on the lizards and bugs.”

The smile falls away, his brow furrowing. “Slow down. Please.”

Seth takes a step closer to Nikolai.

Nate moves to stand behind Dax, his hand hovering over Dax’s shoulder. “Do you—”

Dax cuts him off by bringing one hand up. Then he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I get it,” he mutters. “You said that. I’m trying to protect him. I’m trying to finish this. Why the hell is everyone else so angry about it now? Is it because of the Mages—” He stops abruptly, hands falling from his face as his mouth opens slowly. “Oh.”

Dax pushes back, brushing against Nate briefly before he pulls away. He opens his mouth, draws in a breath and for a moment he looks as if he’s about to launch into a speech, the words hanging heavy in the air, waiting. Then he simply says, “Okay.” He takes a step back and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Nate asks.

Dax shakes his head, exhales roughly. “Not really, not me, but they—it will be. I need to get out of here and put some distance between me and this place. You said we’re going... where?”

“The old Benford—”

“Berman,” Seth corrects him.

“The Berman house,” Nikolai says. “If we’d just kept going down that one path through the trees, we would’ve gotten there. It’s where we stayed, in our own world. Or similar. And I’ve heard it’s where Mattie came back from being just a Shadow.”

“Sometimes it’s weird being the one non-Talented person hanging out with you guys,” Nate muses. “You all have all this going on, and all I can do is tag along for moral support.”

Seth nudges his glasses up his nose. “Never underestimate the value of moral support. I’m an Empath. That’s pretty much what we do.”

Dax turns and heads for the edge of the cemetery again, back the way they came. Nate falls into step beside him, while Nikolai catches up when Seth follows.

Nate glances back at them. “Yeah, but your moral support is more like,” he lifts his fingers and wiggles them at Dax. “Mine’s a lot more being there and talking.”

“He talks a lot,” Dax agrees.

“Some people might find that a more comforting method of providing empathy than the Talented version,” Seth argues. He’s the shortest of all of them, walking swiftly to keep up. Nikolai doesn’t worry about them moving too fast for Seth, though. They walked all over New York; he’s sure he can manage this distance. “Some people don’t like Talent. There’s a reason Humans fear us.”

“Plus Shadows,” Nikolai reminds him.

“There’s that.”

Nikolai reaches out to catch Seth’s hand, and they slow down slightly, letting Dax and Nate move on ahead. He doesn’t have a reason for it, just that maybe they don’t have to rush right now. There’s no reason to hurry, they aren’t running from anything.

He sees Nate’s hands lift and move as he speaks, but Dax and he are far enough ahead that Nikolai can’t quite overhear them now. The distance stretches as they move along the narrow path.

“They’re going somewhere. We’re out for a relaxing stroll,” Nikolai observes.

Seth’s gaze is narrowed watching the others. “Mm,” he agrees, as Nate reaches out and grabs Dax’s shoulder and points at something off in the distance. “We just happen to be going in the same direction.”

The distance between them steadies eventually, which is good, since Nikolai’s hard-pressed to see the difference between the small path they follow through the trees, and the turn-off to head toward the Berman place. Roads have been left behind, and these are places where wolves run and birds fly. The need for human pathways just isn’t there.

He can feel the place before they arrive. It pricks at his senses even more than the Benford house did, tingling across his skin. Nikolai pauses as the house comes into view. “You feel that?”

Seth nods. “I feel something. Not sure if it’s the same thing you feel, but this is worse than home. This place has a very active stay out kind of feel to it. It’s uncomfortable getting closer to it. I’m not sure how they just walked up so easily.”

Nate waves and motions for them to come forward. He’s waiting at the base of the steps, but Dax already has the door open and is looking in. The door looks like it’s been ripped apart by something with claws, and hangs awkwardly on the hinges.

“There aren’t any ghosts here,” Dax calls over his shoulder. “It feels dead, but there’s no one here waiting to talk to me.”

“That’s because Mattie’s already gone,” Nate suggests. “I wonder if you would’ve been able to talk to her before she was pulled out?” He crosses his arms, shudders theatrically. “This place even gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can’t imagine what it feels like to you.”

“It feels like the Dreamscape is already here,” Nikolai replies. He has one hand up, staring at his fingers as they move through the air. He’s looking for that moment when he slips, when the Dreaming comes out into the real world. It doesn’t happen, but it feels like it could, if he even breathes wrong. Like it’s waiting for him to cross over. “This place could be dangerous.”

“It was.” The door is pulled out of Dax’s hand, and Mattie stands there, Chelsea a column of darkness behind her. “I Emerged here, and my family died. This place ate my soul.”

“Feels like it could do it again,” Seth says dryly.

“Probably,” Mattie agrees. She pulls what’s left of the door open wide. “Why don’t you come in?”

Dax walks past her, circling around Chelsea. They stare at each other as the rest move in, and Chelsea slides forward, one hand out and reaching for Dax’s face.

“Not for eating,” Mattie says.

Chelsea pulls back, shadowed hand falling. “I wasn’t going to. He feels… different. I just wanted to see.”

“It’s okay.” Dax closes the distance between them, reaching for Chelsea’s hands and wrapping his fingers around shadowed wrists. He lifts them both, offering his face for her to touch.

“Are you sure you should—”

“I’ve been thrown across rooms by ghosts.” Dax interrupts Nate, holding still while Chelsea’s fingers spread tendrils of darkness across his skin. “She doesn’t feel anything like that.”

“She also drinks souls,” Seth reminds him. “Nikolai woke up one morning to find her feeding on us.”

Nikolai can’t see her features clearly, but he feels certain that the look Chelsea throws is both hurt and indignant.

“I apologized,” she says. “And I’m not doing that now. I’m not hungry. Much.” Her attention refocuses on Dax, the darkness almost hiding his face as she leans in close. Her hands curl around the nape of his neck, and he stands there quietly. “What are you?”

“Descendent of The Oracle of Delphi and an Empathic line, and I talk to ghosts,” Dax says easily.

“You aren’t like the skinny one, but you are still brimming. Your energy is not for me.” Chelsea slips backwards, light spilling into the space around Dax as she goes. “You carry the weight of others.”

“Hundreds of ghosts over the years,” Dax agrees. He shudders, seeming to shake something off. “Just one active one, currently.”

Nikolai tunes them out. He wants to see more of this place, and lets the tingling on his skin draw him through the living room and into the kitchen. The floor is covered in dirt, left alone over the ages. Windows are broken, wind whistling through. Old pans lie on the stove and dishes on the table, as if it was immortalized in a moment after someone disappeared.

The kitchen is where the sensation is strongest, as if he could step from reality into the Dreaming right here. He draws in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, centering himself. He feels Seth’s calm from the other room; even from a distance, his anchor is stable.

“There,” Mattie whispers.

Nikolai turns, startled. “I didn’t hear you following me.”

She moves past him, touching the stool that stands by the stove. “I was right here,” she says. “You can feel it, can’t you? How thin the barrier is still. I wonder if there are other places like this in the world, if every time a Shadow Emerges it leaves a rift behind. I wonder if that is how other Shadows slip into the world, if that gives them access. It didn’t feel this thin in Havenhill, did it?”

Nikolai shakes his head. “Not really, no.” He presses his hand next to hers on the stool, and for a moment the kitchen is in color, macaroni and cheese bubbling on the stove, the scent rich in his nose. He steps back quickly, and everything returns to darkness, dust, and dirt. “Is this where you were were trapped?”

Mattie crosses her arms, sinks to sit on the stool with her back to the stove. She nods. “I was waiting, I think. I never went far.”

“Do you think it’ll be the same for Chelsea?” Nikolai has an idea how it worked with Mattie now even if he’s not sure of the actual mechanics. He has a feeling there will be a lot of faith involved, but from Carolyn’s description, he can see how they slipped into the Dreaming and found Mattie there to bring her back. “Do we need to go where she Emerged? Do you think she’ll be waiting there?”

Mattie presses her lips together, shakes her head slowly. “I don’t think it will be the same. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Chelsea’s linked to Pawel. She keeps drifting back to him.”

Nikolai’s gaze goes slowly to the doorway. Seth, Nate, Dax, and Chelsea are all still talking, voices slipping over each other, Chelsea’s more sibilant than the others but no less strong. “So you think that if she’s waiting anywhere, it’s near Pawel,” he says quietly. “You think that’s where to find her.”

“If she’s anywhere, I think it could be there,” Mattie agrees. “Are you going to restore her soul to her before the ritual? Whatever they are planning might kill her. I know they want to stop the Shadows.”

Where stop might mean kill, or lock out, or any number of things that means Chelsea isn’t here anymore. Which could also mean Nikolai and Seth have no way of getting home.

He doesn’t want to think about that part.

“She’ll be around after whatever we do,” he says, as if it’s actually that simple. “She needs to help us get home, since you can’t.”

“I can’t,” Mattie confirms. “I can’t get into the Split now, not easily. It feels as if I should be able to, but I think something’s changed there. Something that makes it only for those without souls, only for those who hunger and have needs that go beyond sanity. Perhaps after the ritual, that will change.” A small, wistful sound before she smiles. “I’d like to travel.”

“I think we need to figure out what’s happening with the ritual, first, and getting me and Seth home after that.” Nikolai doesn’t want to lose sight of the goal, but he understands the idea of looking ahead. He wants to know what comes next, too.

He closes his eyes and relaxes for a moment, lets the sensation of the Dreamscape wash over him without letting it slip out. It’s so close that he could mold it here, bring it into being. He has a feeling that’s important, so he accustoms himself to the sensation and does his best to keep it under control. He’ll save this for later.

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[sleepyfan-blog]

Bad Dreams

Discord request from @anxiety-is-married-to-depression

Fandom: undertale, Dreamtale

Pairing: Dreammare

Characters: Dream, Nightmare

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,320

Summary: Dream wakes up from a nightmare and is soothed by his beloved, Nightmare.

Dream yawned a little and stretched, before snuggling into the source of the familiar and warm magic of someone who he deeply trusted. A feeling of safety and security filled the guardian of positivity in ways that he hadn't experienced since... A bit of a frown appeared on his face as he started to wake up a little bit more. There was... There was no possible way that he should feel this happy and safe. Especially since he... Since he was laying next to Nightmare. His eye lights flashed on and he froze up in shock and confusion as he stared at the sight a couple of inches from his face.

Nightmare was in the bed next to him, an arm wrapped around his waist, the other's breathing indicating that he was sleeping, a small smile on the guardian of negativity's face. The other was in his original, non-corrupted form, and as Dream shifted a little in his other half's hold, they were... They were in his original room. The one in Dreamtale - before everything had gone so horribly wrong, after Nightmare had silently suffered from the villagers' abuse and cruelty for uncounted decades... Unable to take it and snapping, while he had been naively oblivious to the suffering of the one being in the entirety of their home timeline that he should have been most focused on.

The other shifted a little and woke up, violet (not cyan! which meant that the other was uncorrupted, rather than having shape-shifted into this form for whatever reason) eye lights focusing him, a worried frown appearing on the other's face as he asked "Dream, what's wrong? I can sense that you're really unsettled about something."

"I... I... Nighty you... Y-you're here. We... This is... I don't.... I don't understand how this could have happened..." Dream responded, desperately trying to remember what he'd been doing before he had woken up in bed with Nightmare as he should be, and not the dark shadow that he'd become. Tears coursed down his face as he shifted forwards and hugged the other tightly, feeling himself shaking a little.

"Woah! Hey! Of course I'm here, where else would I be? You begged me to sleep with you in your room like... Three hours ago? What... did... Did you have a nightmare? I-I'm sorry, I hadn't realized that I.. My powers could affect you while we slept... They haven't before... Wh-why are you crying? Hey... It's okay... I'm right here, starlight..." Nightmare soothed, sounding and feeling a little bit panicky as the other started to rock him back and forth a little.

"I... I..." Was everything he remembered nothing more than a bad dream? The destruction of The Tree and Nightmare's fall? Desperately fighting and fleeing from Nightmare until he had somehow stumbled into an alternate universe, drawn to Ink, desperate for help and his instincts guiding him to a being who had the power and ability to do so. Fighting and growing by Ink's side against Error, against Nightmare until... Until... But there seemed to be a strange... Fuzziness to those memories. Drea felt terribly disoriented and confused as he tried to piece together what was going on, unless it had all been one very realistic bad dream?  "I... I did have a really bad dream... I don't want to talk about it. I just want to hold you and you to hug me. I didn't mean to upset you Nightmare. I love you very much and I always will, no matter what."

Nightmare put his hands on Dream's shoulders, pushing him away a little before grabbing his chin with one of his hands, making the positive guardian look him directly in the eyes as he spoke, voice quiet and full of genuine love, his aura reflecting the genuine as well  "Thank you, Dream. I will always love you as well. Do you want to talk about your bad dream, or do you just want to cuddle? I know that you're really unsettled."

"I... I-I just want to cuddle with you. I don't want to think about it." Dream responded with a decisive nod, flashing the other a bright grin that he did not at all feel like, but knowing that he needed to pull himself together - as he had worried Nightmare far too much as it was.

"Alright, I like cuddling you - even if the bed's a bit small for the both of us together like this." Nightmare responded, a loving smile appearing on his face as he laid back down on the bed, gently pulling Dream down with him, snuggling into the other and asking quietly "Is there something else that I can do to help you calm down?"

Dream thought about that for a couple of moments before shaking his head and turning off his eye lights, answering after a moment "Just... Please don't leave me. I-I know that you like to get up a bit earlier than I do sometimes, but I... part of the bad dream was because I... I couldn't reach you and if..." Dream stopped talking for a couple of moments before hiding his face into Nightmare's sleeping shirt "... Sorry. I just realized how childish and clingy I sound."

"You're not being childish. I know that you've been having bad dreams every night for a week... And you still won't tell me about them..." Nightmare responded, a worried frown appearing on his face as he pulled Dream in closer, pressing a couple of gentle kisses to the other's cheeks. One of his hands came up to gently wipe away the positive guardian's tears "I know that those bad dreams have been really bothering you. I hope that you'll tell me what's upset you so much, but I promised that I won't push you and I intend to keep that promise."

"I... I just... I don't want to worry you." Dream responded earnestly. He knew that Nightmare struggled to shake off some of the insults that the villagers called him... And to voice the fact that he'd been having bad dreams where the other had turned into the horrifying demon that the villagers had accused him to be would really upset the other. Besides, it's not as if any of that had actually happened, right? "They're just bad dreams. I'm sure that they'll pass sooner or later!"

"I.. Okay. As long as nothing's causing them? Like... Like when there was that... Stranger following you around the village and watching the house about a decade back? You were jumpy and getting bad dreams then, too..." Nightmare prodded, still looking so worried and caring.

So different than the corrupted creature that had masqueraded as his beloved in his bad dreams for the past week - which he was starting to remember bits and pieces of, now that he was starting to wake up a little bit more. "No. There's no one bothering or watching me like that in the village again, I promised that I'd speak up if I was worried about that happening again sooner, because things had started to go... really far before you made me talk to you about it..." Dream promised earnestly, a genuine smile appearing on his face - it was much shakier than the fake expression, but he was feeling much calmer now.

Nightmare visibly relaxed at that, giving Dream a small smile in response "Okay... Do you want to try to stay awake for a little bit, or do you think that you'll be able to sleep peacefully if we settle down to sleep again?"

"No... I-I don't think that the bad dream is waiting for me again. Talking to you always chases them away, Nighty." Dream responded, as he snuggled into the other, allowing himself to relax. The other's steady thrum of magic and rising and falling of his chest helped to lull him off to sleep, the other's arms warm as they were wrapped around him.

[saturatedsinset]

hiii have some symbol asks <3 could i get ☾ ☽ and ☼ for hungry and hollow? and throw in a ★ for whatever strikes your fancy. actually also ☄ for face reinvention pls

oh! thank u beloved!

hungry & hollow:

☾: how i thought people would respond to the fic

uhhh. i thought like. you and drea would care. i write for an audience of approx five and i didn't expect anyone to care or read it otherwise it's SUCH a niche concept

☽: how people actually responded

people really liked it! i got comments from people who hadn't read any of my other fic, i got some really positive feedback about fair folk bucks specifically which was very nice because i do love them. they're so. horrid. i love them

☼: how i came up with the idea

bestie. you Know this. we were being insane in the dms as usual <3 i could not have written it without you <3

i think whatever strikes my fancy is the evening splits in half

★: something i'm proud to have accomplished

it's the first fic i posted in like a year! i have been having a bad productivity time lately (read: since christmas 2021) so it was really nice to write something in like. four days. also i think the atmosphere in it is Really intense in a good way, i went back and reread it yesterday and i was like Ah. i see why people have had to take a day or two to process this one

face reinvention

☄: what the writing process was like

god. it was tough! i think it took me about two months to write the whole thing? which is unusual for me, if i'm actively working on something it's usually done in like, a week. but it was also super fun, all i knew about the shield was what i'd read in fic, so i only actually watched the betrayal in the editing process before i posted it. was super fun to like. hyperfixate on shield content for a little while. it did drive me insane but what doesn't. ALSO the sex scene in particular took me SO long to write because i kept having to text people and be like "what do tops even get out of kink" fdfsdfs

[calistapledger]

The Thrill of First Love

A/N: This actually takes place before the reaction fic but it was still a work in progress when I posted the reaction. I’ll post a masterlist of all the pics in chronological order tomorrow. Props to anyone who can guess which fave book character inspired Cal to become an inventor (hint: the character is from a beloved children’s book series that became Netflix series recently). Tagging @isabellafaulkner, @ariciaeast, @debbieker and @evadne-leventhorpe beause I know they loveee reading about Calystair.

I settled in college perfectly well. The workload was rather intensive but I knew what I was signing up for when I sent in my application. The experience was made even better when I was given the most helpful professors who were willing to go over the lesson again after the class in case I missed anything. I had easy going acquaintances but never anyone to truly open up to until Eurus showed up. Yes, Eurus Ledger, my annoying little brother or best friend since birth. It really depends on my mood.

I had finished a successful term and I was all ready for my second term. I breathed in the fresh air of the college campus as I made my way to my Creative Writing class. Engineering was my major but it didn't hurt to deepen my love for my hobby. I was minding my own business when I heard a loud thud slump next to me.

“Hey sis.” Came his sultry voice. Did he really have to use the flirty tone with me? I jumped in my seat before turning to his direction. “What are you doing here?” Wasn't he off parading as a model? He came close enough to show off his grin and I pursed my lips in a tight smile. “Mom and dad said that if I was gonna be a model I’d have to get a formal education for after my looks fade.” He fainted dramatically on my lap. What a baby. I rolled my eyes before pulling him up.

“Okay...that doesn't explain why you're here.”

“Oh please, you aren't the only one who got Mom’s brains. Besides Angeles Uni is near where I work, Cal.” He scoffed. I raised an eyebrow. “Where exactly do you work?” “We aren't called the Angeles Angels for fun, sis.” Have I been so caught up with my life here that I've completely shut out my brothers? He must have caught the guilty expression I wore and chuckled.

“I forgive you, sis. Let's get together for lunch to catch up. Now pay attention, class’s starting.” New friends can be nice but there’s nothing like reconciling with your best friend.

Lunch had another surprise awaiting me. Eurus and I walked laughing over Zephy starting a food fight in school. Father had turned red as a fire truck when the school called him up. Seems like Zeph is going a rebel phrase. I was laughing and the next thing I know I'm in Aly’s arms. His aftershave was always too prominent for me to ignore. He kisses me and I hear Eurus making a gagging noise. Real mature, E. In retaliation, I stuck out my tongue in his direction. I smooth over Aly's shirt and grin up at my boyfriend.

“This is the best surprise. How did you manage to get off work?”

“There's only a few girls left in the competition so security isn't as tight as it used to be. I managed to get Emory to cover for me.” Trusty Emory, he was Aly’s second in command and always reliable. “I also realised it's due time that we went out on a real date.” 

I gasped, I’d been so busy with college that I didn't realise Aly and I hadn't gone on a real date. Before I could excitedly agree, Eurus cleared his throat behind me. I internally groaned. I did promise him that we'd catch up during lunch. I turned to smile at him before going back to my boyfriend.

“I promised Eurus we'd have lunch. Aly, this is my kid brother and best friend, Eurus. E, this is Aly, my -” “The guy who ruined your chances of becoming Queen.” My brother sneered. “Excuse me?” I was completely caught off guard. I didn't know E cared so much about the Selection. “You could have had a better life, Cal.” I have never heard my brother be this upset before, it was unnerving to see him so. I could tell Aly was too stunned to say anything, his breathing was all messed up.

“I am having a better life! Dominic would have probably stuck me in that cage in a prison of a dress, playing shadow to his rule! Here I'm with the man I love and going to Uni, something I never thought possible without Aly and my friends suggesting it. So don't you dare talk to him like that, E.” I was seething. It was not fair to Aly to be yelled at just because Dominic was a douche and I didn't like him. Eurus could only scoff bitterly.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like this one.” “His name is Alystair and you will treat him like a person but I understand. I owe you lunch so I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.” I waited for him to be out of earshot before turning to Aly.

“I’m so sorry he did that, it completely blindsided me.” I giggled softly at the pun, “Pun intended. I’ll meet you after lunch, alright?” I kissed him goodbye and headed off to find my brother. Lucky for me, E caught me as soon as I made a pass for the cafeteria. I loved being independant and all, navigating the campus on my own but sometimes it was nice having someone to guide me around.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not upset with you. That was completely uncalled for, I thought you thought the Selection was a joke?” Was the first thing I said to him when we sat down. I knew he was rolling his eyes. “We all saw how happy you were at the Palace. And to throw it all away for that guard, was a waste.” I narrowed my eyes at him when he spat out the word ‘guard’.

“Being a guard is not beneath you, Eurus. In fact, they are a caste above you, you will do well to remember that. I did not throw it away for a guard, why can’t you believe that I’m truly happy? You know what, I thought I could do this without being furious with you but I am. I need to cool off. Let’s take a raincheck on this lunch.” With that, I stormed out of the dining hall. The nerve my brother had to act this way. I exited the campus, and always there when I needed him was Aly, waiting for me.

“I knew you couldn’t talk to him while you were still upset. Are you okay to go on a real date?” He pulled me closer to his side, comfortingly. I leaned in gratefully and nodded. I just needed to be whisked away and pampered today. I knew I could trust Aly to do just that. We got into the car and next thing I know, I hear waves crashing against the sand. I have never heard a more lovely sound at the moment. The sea breeze hit my face as soon as I stepped out of the car. I inhaled deeply, taking it all in.

“Now I know you can’t see how lovely the water looks but I know how much you love the sound of waves crashing and the smell of the sea. So I thought the beach would be a perfect place for our first date.” I practically tackled him with my hug. I thanked him over and over before kissing him all over. We giggled as we clumsily made our way to a table he had someone set up for us. I felt extremely fancy, and couldn’t stop grinning.

“Hello, I’m Jeeves and I’ll be your personal waiter for the day.” A personal waiter! He really shouldn’t have. Once Jeeves was away, collecting our drink selection, I pounced on Aly.

“You shouldn’t have spent so much on me!” He slipped his hand on top of mine, sneakily. “I wanted to so don’t protest. Just enjoy it.” I huffed before giving in. Jeeves brought us our drink selection; I opted for cider while Aly settled for red wine. Then came out a full course meal, I could barely keep up. They were hard to keep track of so I just focused on the most important thing: My date.

“How do we go about this? This isn’t exactly a proper first date, we know so much about each other.” I asked, I didn’t want to royally screw this up like I did my last first date. He reached out and rubbed my shoulder, comfortingly.

“Hey, relax. It’s just me. And you know I’ll definitely be more interactive than your last date.” We laughed at that. I wondered how my friends were faring, being in the Elite. Half of us managed to get in and I was so proud of them, I just hope Dominic wouldn’t break their hearts. I thought about what Aly and I could talk about when it hit me.

“You just lit up, what brilliant idea do you have now?” I heard the smile in his voice. “I realised you only know so much about me is because of all the media exposure I’ve gotten from the Selection. We’ve never really talked about your life before the palace. I only know you were a Five and you played the violin. I’ll be honest, I pegged you to be a pianist.”

“A pianist? With these hands?” He snorted as he splayed out his fingers towards me. I took them in my own hands and fiddled with them “I happen to like these hands, thank you very much.” I stuck my tongue at him before continuing, “Well, tell me more! I want to know all about your life.”

He was quiet for a moment and I could hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably putting it all together in his head coherently.

“Where do I even begin?”

I can tell you firsthand, Alystair Ajax Costas has had an interesting life. His Grandfather is the Royal General and his Mother was Major Anya Costas, next in line to be General after the General retires. Before that could happen, Anya fell in love with Aly’s father, Ajax. Of course General Costas didn’t approve of the match, seeing that she was a Two and his father was a painter, a Five. Anya didn’t care for her father’s opinion and ran off with her lover. She became a Five and soon had Aly, Alice and later Ambrose. I didn’t even know he had a brother until now. He simply chuckled when I relayed this to him.

He was raised in a loving household full of art and music - his mother picked up the piano soon after marrying Ajax. So I was right about him having pianist fingers, it was literally in his blood. At some point in his youth, he became fascinated with the Royal Guards and his mother eventually revealed to him that he came from a long line of Royal Generals, Majors and Captains. Immediately, he was taken to living up to that dream and begged his mother to take him to see his Grandfather. Long story short, his Grandfather was too happy to see his grandson and offered him a position right away. The General never really forgave Anya for her life choices but they were civil now.

“Within the next five years, I’m looking to be Major Costas.” That was a wonderful life story and I was completely enticed.

“Oh, that was a treat! I want to know more! How did you decide that you wanted to play the violin instead of going into arts?” “How did you know you wanted to be an inventor?” He countered, teasingly, “It was a gut feeling, although I always knew I was meant for something bigger.”

“You’re wrong, it wasn’t a gut feeling for me. A favourite book character inspired my want to be an inventor and with Uncle Ro, it all fell into place.” I finished the last of my dessert and propped my elbows up on the table, resting my face on my fists.

“Now tell me more about Ambrose! I can’t believe you never told me about him.” “He never came up.” “You could have just been, ‘Hey, this is Alice, we have little Ambrose back at the mansion.’” I dropped my voice really low to mimic him but failed miserably.

“I do not sound like that!” He grinned goofily, I could tell, his voice lightened up but then continued to tell me more about his brother. Ambrose dabbled in both music and art. He was a painter and photographer; he usually melded the two mediums together, and played all sorts of instruments beautifully.

“He’s gay as well so we can set him up with Eurus, if that would earn me brownie points.” I froze momentarily at that statement. Aly seemed to notice and froze with me. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to offend you.” “What are you going on about, you nutter? I’m pansexual, remember? I’m completely fine with gay people, it just never occurred to me that Eurus could be gay.”

“Ah.” With that one word, I could tell how relieved my boyfriend was.

“It makes sense.” I shrugged and we moved on. Eventually we were done with our meal and getting to know one another for the day. We decided to call it a day. We stood up and I sincerely thanked him for a wonderful date. He kissed my hand like a perfect gentleman in response. I simply rolled my eyes and pulled him to me.

When we kissed, it felt like the very first time. My chest was exploding with fireworks and I felt completely at home. He smelled like the sea breeze that had washed over him during the last few hours we spent at the beach. He tasted of chocolates and I couldn’t get enough.

“Now, that was a proper thank you.” He laughed when we pulled away. “Take me out more often. There’s more where that came from.” I winked at him.

[missdreawrites]

I was tagged by @theteamoth, thanks, doll! <3 Rules: Tag 20 people (I never tag people lmaoo)

Well, here goes something, mates.

Your last:

1. Drink: Mango Pineapple juice!

2. Phone Call: Phone call.... My parents, I think, yesterday.

3. Text message: My beloved sister, @caithes-blossom

4. Song you listened to: I Don’t Want to Set the World On Fire - the Ink Spots

5. Time you cried: Long enough ago that I don’t recall.

Have You:

6. Dated someone twice: Twice like... gone on two dates? ‘Cause yes. Dated someone like, dated them for a while, broke up and then got back together? Nope.

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Not really.

8. Been cheated on: Twice!

9. Lost someone special: Yes.

10. Been depressed: The year 2013 was a very rough year for me.

11: Gotten drunk and thrown up: I have never thrown up because of alcohol, ever.

List 3 Favorite Colors:

12. Dark Green

13. Black

14: Silver

In the last year, have you…

15. Made new friends: Yes! So many new friends this year.

16. Fallen out of love: Yes. Thankfully.

17. Laughed until you cried: Couple of times. Then I tend to start making these high pitched squeaky noises as my lungs give up.

18. Found out someone was talking about you: Couple of times.

19. Met someone who changed you: Yes.

20. Found out who your friends are: Moving states tends to do that, yes.

21. Kissed someone on your FB list: Yeah, I’m friends with most of the people I’ve kissed or been with. I won’t go near people unless we’re already friends. 

GENERAL:

22. How many Facebook friends do you know in real life: All of them? Who tf friends people they don’t know???

23. Do you have any pets: I have two cats, and they are adorable.

24. Do you want to change your name: Not really.

25. What did you do for your last birthday: @wittyusernamed came to visit me!

26. What time did you wake up: I had a car appointment this morning so I got up at 6:20am.

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Wrapping up D&D.

28. Name something you can’t wait for: All those new games to come out from E3.

29. When was the last time you saw your Mom: Uh.... last month some time?

30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: My trashcan health.

31. What are you listening to right now: Some “Steam Powered Giraffe”

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yes. Not in a long time though, our friendship dissolved.

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: People at work not coming in on time, or getting super disrespectful about the rules of work. OR people being entitled assholes at work over said rules that I just mentioned. Yesterday was not a great day.

34. Most visited website:  AO3

35. Mole/s: I have freckles!

36. Mark/s: Two tattoos, both on my shoulders (no, they aren’t wings), and about a billion scars. Seven bite scars from old clients, long white line across my fingers and knuckles from playing with a butterfly knife, cat scratches. 

37. Childhood dream: I used to dream about getting lost a lot.

38. Hair color: Blonde/red/ginger

39. Long or short hair: Looooong and curly because short hair makes me look like Shirley Temple.

40. Do you have a crush on someone? Not really, unless you’re counting the long term relationship I’m in lmao

41. What do you like about yourself: My eyes, and my writing ability.

42. Piercings: Just my ears. I’m allergic to everything so I never got anything else.

43. Blood type: O+.

44: Nicknames: Drea, m13

45. Relationship status: In a Relationship. 

46. Zodiac: Taurus/Year of the Rabbit

47. Pronouns: She/Her

48. Favorite TV show(s):Uh... Stargate SG-1? If I had to pick a favorite show.

49. Tattoos: Two! The Guild of Writers on my left shoulder and the Guild of Maintainers on my right!

50. Right or left hand: Ambidextrous 

51. Surgery: I had a number of lung biopsies, and I got my wisdom teeth surgically removed. 

52. Hair dyed a different color:  Like, a million times.

53. Sports: Yoga, when I can. I used to play Hockey.

54. Vacation: My convention which happens yearly.

55. Shoes: Fuck shoes.

56. Eating: Um, obviously?

57. Drinking: Like, water? Duh.

58. I’m about to: Make pancakes for my boyfriend and I.

59. Waiting for: My skillet to heat up.

60. Want: To potentially finish my writing ideas and start looking into publishing.

61. Get married: Someday!

62. Career: I’m currently a social worker, but I’d love to write novels.

WHICH IS BETTER:

63. Hugs or kisses: Hugs, but only if I know you well.

64. Lips or eyes: Eyes.

65. Shorter or taller: I’m pretty tall for a lady, but I’d prefer not to be the tallest. So taller.

66. Older or younger: Depends.

67. Nice arms or nice stomach: Arms.

68. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive. Loud is bad.

69. Hook up or relationship: Relationship. 

70. Troublemaker or hesitant: An even mix.

HAVE YOU EVER:

71. Kissed a stranger: Never.

72. Drank hard liquor: All the time.

73. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I once lost my glasses in a pond. They’re still in there somewhere.

74. Turned someone down: Yes.

75. Sex on first date: LORD NO.

76. Broken someone’s heart: Once. But it was for the best.

77. Had your heart broken: Only once, really.

78. Been arrested: Nope.

79. Cried when someone died: Sometimes.

80. Fallen for a friend: Yes. It ended amicably, at least.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

81. Yourself: Depends on what portion of my personality I’m trying to believe in.

82. Miracles: Sure, why not?

83. Love at first sight: I think connections can happen instantly - just knowing that this person was meant to be one of your People. But love? I think that comes with time.

84. Santa Claus: For 30 years, someone try and prove me wrong.

85. Kiss on the first date: On the cheek?

OTHER:

86. Current best friend: I have a lot of best friends because they’re all the best for me in different ways.

87. Eye color: Very green.

88. Favorite movie: ..... Jurassic Park. SHUT UP DON’T JUDGE ME.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

“aND THE CONVO ABOUT HOW TOBEY SHOOTS THE WEBSEKDJEJDJD” I was laughing SO HARD and then i was like, bro this feels like something drea would write (affectionate) "this is the worst thing they’ve done to him yet" - YES saw ppl saying that it was necessary for him to grow as a hero but this was so cruel, oh and when strange said “>we< that love you wont remember who you are” i sobbed so hard it was so unfair, after all the snappy doc throughout the movie, he said that he loved him i hate marvel

WOW THATS SUCH A HUGE COMPLIMENT THANK YOU SDNNSNNWN THEY WERE ALL SO FUNNY TOGETHERJEJDEJEJ THE BACK CRACKING THING???? AND THE AVENGERS CONVO

“I don’t mean to brag, but I will: I was in the Avengers.”

“You’re part of the Avengers?! That’s great!…What are the Avengers?”

“Is it a band? Are you in a band?!”

IDIOTS MY BELOVED

And omg when Strange said “we”…..I thought he was gonna take it back but he didn’t I was so happy 😭😭😭😭😭 IM TIRED OF HIM GOING THROUGH A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT SIMPLY FOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, JUST LET HIM BE HAPPY

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

drea my beloved ❤️ i thought of you today so here are some kissies 😘😘😘😘😘

Omg Nora my love 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 THANK YOU SM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 SENDING KISSIES RIGHT BACK, I LUV YEWWWWW 😚😚😚😚🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

WAIt a MINUTO DAME UN SEGUNDO!! FUE TU CUMPLEAÑOS Y NO SUPE NADAAA?? OMG BWSTIE HBD TO YOUUU HBD FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS!! OMG BESTIEE! I hope you had a wonderful and amazing celebration with all your loved ones and especially, with a lot of hugs and gifts!! You are a wonderful and beautiful person drea, keep that pretty energy with you every single time, I love you so so much. Thank you for being the best person and bestie here! Hopefully one day we could talk about many things, especially Harry lmaoooon! Te amo amigaaaaa

HASIBI MY BELOVED 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK MWAH 😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚 THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING SO KIND AND LOVING TO ME, I ADORE YOU AND I FIND SO MUCH COMFORT IN KNOWING THAT I FINALLY HAVE ANOTHER HISPANIC HARRIE TO HAVE SOME SOLIDARITY WITH SO I DONT FEEL LONELY SKDNNWSNSNNS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

hales looks 15 drea it isn't even worth the fight (coming from a friend that has seen her)

OH?? HALES YOU HAVE A TRAITOR IN YOUR MIDST

thank you, my beloved 😌 I will hold it against her forever