#heeueuuughhhh

[autisticlalna]

Shatter

YEP ITS ANOTHER DREAMOUT FIC i actually posted this on ao3 earlier but didnt want to put it on tumblr yet because i hate having to reformat everything for tumblr. hellsite.

techno and dream have a fun duel where nothing bad happens! or, well, permanently bad. consequences are a myth. inspired by SAD-ist’s incredible animation and @/iskall-ium’s incredible fanart!

i recommend you read the ao3 version because it has a fun formatting thing i cant do on tumblr. at least scroll through it or smth.

[ ao3 link ]

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    Right. Okay. Dream inhaled, exhaled, looked over his tools. Shield. Axe. Crossbow. Fishing rod. Diamond armor fastened over his hoodie and sweatpants. Across the way, he knew Technoblade was doing the same thing. If he looked nervous, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell; as usual, his porcelain mask obscured every fraction of emotion he could be displaying, and he kept his body language loose and casual as if this was just a friendly spar between buddies.

    Which, okay, it was. It just also happened to have a huge reward on the line. No big.

    We can do this, the mask’s wearer thought. Come on, we’re unstoppable! Unbeatable! What can Technoblade do that we can’t?

    The pointed silence from the mask was filled with the enthusiastic announcer listing off Techno’s various accomplishments as he hyped up the crowd. Dream grimaced.

    Okay. Well. …My bad.

    It was too late to reconsider, anyway. There was no way he could turn this offer down, and they’d both already came all this way. He just needed to be at the top of his game, even if he wasn’t entirely in his element. All he needed to do was knock Techno down before Techno could knock him down.

    It was hard. The two of them were evenly matched, sword and axe clashing, crowd cheering; Dream was getting winded, and he could only push himself so far for so long before it caught up to him. But… this was it. He’d never felt more alive. Both sides of him were working in unison to feint and swing and dodge; his axe felt like an extension of himself in his hands, his reflexes as razor-sharp as the weapon itself. The crowd screaming for him, for his victory, gave him the energy he needed to keep going.

    First to six, the rules were. Best of ten. Dream just needed to take Techno down six times total, and that was game. Nevermind the nervous energy buzzing through him. The finals were closing in; he’d fought hard, but so had his opponent. Two more rounds, that’s all he needed. Two more rounds of surviving Techno and beating him down. He could do that. He’d been doing plenty of that, their back and forth tug-of-war only just starting to slip in Techno’s favour. He’d tied the score once already, he could keep up. Even if they tied again, he was still certain he could get the upper hand in a tiebreaker. He just needed to keep going.

    Hurts, was the complaint before the start of Round 9. Dream pulled his hood up and tried to not think about it. It was true, though— he was getting worn down, and the healing wounds from the previous eight rounds still lingered. The organizers of the duel were kind enough to provide medical assistance after each bout, and these aches and pains wouldn’t stay for long, but it still tallied up. For a moment he wondered how Techno was faring, but a quick glance at the scoreboard reminded him that despite the five rounds’ worth of fading injuries he was still lugging around, he’d only taken Techno down a total of three.

    Well, he was about to make it four.

    One last check. Dream adjusted the straps on his armor, then after a moment made sure his mask was on tight too— he couldn’t afford it slipping off mid-battle. Axe was sharp, shield was at the ready, both of them comforting in his hands. “We can do this,” he said, even though there was a groan of protest underlying his words. Hm. Since when had they switched opinions on this? He cracked a grin at the comedy of it.

    No time to think about it. The gate separating him from his opponent lowered block by block— three, two, one— and then Dream could see Techno standing on the other side of the arena. The two met each other’s gazes (as much as they could with one of them wearing a mask, anyway), exchanged a nod that said more than any words could, and then Dream’s axe was at the ready and Techno had his sword and the two of them flung into battle.

    Parry, step, back up— Dream’s fought Techno enough times now to see his movements coming. The diamond sword swung wide, but any distance Dream put between them Techno closed. The first few moves were always the most stressful; either of them could get the upper hand, and the pig was pressing his attack and giving Dream no room to try anything

    An opening— Techno jabbed forward. His blade didn’t cut into Dream’s side like he’d hoped, though, as the mask in a hoodie blocked it with his shield last-second. That mistake was all Dream needed. His ferocious grin was visible under his mask as he tilted his head back, and Techno flung himself away as the axe came down hard enough to crack the arena’s flooring. A miss! Well, at least they’d both made a mistake, and Techno’s sword was still firmly embedded in his shield—

    Techno lunged forward. Dream raised his shield again on instinct, and his eyes widened behind the mask as Techno’s leg snapped up in a powerful kick that sent the sword spinning into the air. Dream barely had time to take that in before Techno swung around and drove that same foot into his gut. His startled wheeze was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as Techno swept his legs out from under him; he couldn’t make out the words the crowd was chanting, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was something directed at Techno.

    Uh oh! Techno catching his sword was visually impressive, but also horrible news. Dream grabbed his shield and sprang out of the way as the sequence of sword-swipes got uncomfortably close. He needed some distance. His health was getting worryingly low, and he wasn’t above playing the defensive game until he regenerated enough to dive back into the fray.

    FISHING LINE! Techno whipped out his fishing rod and cast his line in a fluid motion. For a glorious moment, Dream thought he’d missed, but a quick glance dashed his hopes as he saw the hook catch on the baggy material of his hoodie. I told you the hoodie was a bad idea!

    No room to shout back about it being his brand. Dream spun to try and dislodge the hook, but the fishing line coiled around him and he was helpless as Techno swung him up into the air. His shield clattered to the ground far below, and he stared at his empty hand in dismay before sparing a glance at the scene awaiting his landing.

    Techno had him right where he wanted him. Dream fell as gravity caught up to him, and the pig charged to meet him with sword ready. With how ensnared he was, there was no way for Dream to escape his rapidly approaching fate. He just needs one more win! We’re done for!

    No we’re not! He had one arm free, and that’s all he needed to whip out his axe and slice through his bonds. Gravity was working in his favour, now, as Dream was poised to bring his axe down with all his strength. The sight of Techno’s unshakable deadpan expression shifting just the slightest to show concern caused him to grin painfully wide, and even his opponent bracing himself behind Dream’s abandoned shield didn’t slow him down.

    The shield cracked as Dream’s axe cut through it and into Techno’s leg. The pig grunted in pain, but wasn’t fast enough with his sword as Dream brought his axe down again. The crowd erupted into a mix of booming cheers and devastated yelling; the scoreboard ticked over to show 5 - 4, with Techno only one point in the lead now. Dream picked up his shield from where it had fallen and watched as it mended itself now that the round was over. Convenient. 

    Techno would be fine. Dream closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was back in the prep room. People were waiting for him with questions and encouragement, and Dream deftly dodged them as he rummaged around for the medical supplies. Across the way, he knew Technoblade was doing the same thing. 

    He didn’t have long to recover. I’m tired. He was just gonna have to deal with that. All he had to do was outlast Technoblade. He’d been hyped up as the best, and he was going to prove it. If Techno got one more win, then it was over, so all Dream needed to do was make sure he did not get that win.

    His hand still trembled as he bandaged it. Dream stared down at it, impassive, as he willed his body to keep working just a little longer. He was pushing the limits, he knew, he couldn’t ignore it, but if he could hold out just a little longer… He clenched his fist. “What was it you said, earlier? We can do this? We’re unbeatable?”

    I want to sleep for a week.

    Time’s up. He’s got his shield, he’s got his axe, and Dream’s out the door striding with purpose. One foot in front of the other. He picked up the pace, his walk turning into a run, and then Techno lunged at him and he was back in the fray.

    He’d adjusted his loadout before the match, and the look of shock on Technoblade’s face was immensely satisfying as the axe he’d been brandishing was exchanged for a loaded crossbow. The arrow just barely nicked Techno, but it’d done its job of throwing him off his rhythm; the game had changed, and the tactics both of them had used last round weren’t going to work again. Dream ducked and weaved away from the flashing blade of Techno’s diamond sword; Techno was pushing him back again, but this time the masked combatant was able to put distance between them as he reloaded his crossbow. A risky move, sure, but he was gaining confidence.

    Maybe too much confidence. Techno nocked an arrow and drew it back, and Dream had enough time to realize oh, crap, he has a bow too before blocking the arrow in the nick of time with his shield. What, had Techno forgotten he had it or something? Time to punish him for that mistake. He gripped the handle of his axe tight and swung; Techno’s sword lashed out to meet him.

    The two weapons slipped past each other.

Dream’s mask split

                                                                               down the middle

and Techno saw a pair of red eyes staring at him in fear and alarm from behind blonde bangs.

    The two halves of the porcelain mask clattered to the arena ground. Techno’s crown followed right after. The crowd exploded in an uproar, and the man in the green hoodie stumbled woozily before raising a hand to press it against his face. His… bare face. His eyes widened in panic; there was a stinging line across his nose from where the tip of Techno’s blade had nicked him, but that wasn’t what he was focusing on right now.

    What he was focusing on, Techno couldn’t tell. It clearly wasn’t the fight.

    The maskless man’s eyes darted around from Techno to the shattered mask on the ground, to the axe in his hand, to the scoreboard, to the crowd. Oh, god, he was screwed. He wasn’t a fighter, he was a builder! What was he doing here?! What was he going to do?! He needed to end this fast. End the fight, and then figure out what to do next. Figure out what to do now that Dream— 

    Techno swung. The blonde launched himself back in an impressive flip; his muscles were screaming from strain, but the adrenaline kept him moving even as his consciousness wavered. His knees buckled as he landed, but somehow he stayed upright and floundered for a plan. Dream’s crossbow was still loaded. Hand-to-hand wasn’t his forte, but he could aim. Techno made an undignified yelp as he shot the sword out of his hand; the weapon landed point-first in the ground, and before Techno could even think of retrieving it he’d already pulled out Dream’s axe and was moving in for the swing.

    It cracked into the ground. A miss! Techno had seen him move, had expected it, and before he could try again the pig had lasso’d the handle of the axe with his fishing line. With clean ease he flicked it up out of reach; red eyes tracked it arc through the air, and then Techno’s foot slammed into his gut with enough force to crack a rib and knock him prone.

    Techno looked down at him. He looked up as the pig caught Dream’s axe— casual, collected, unaffected— and then swung.

    The axe stopped millimeters from his neck. Techno cocked his head to one side as if surveying him. Anything either of them thought to say was drowned out by the score ticking up 6-4 and the explosion of sound from the crowd and announcers deafening them both; Techno’s smile was equal parts relieved and exhausted, and he mirrored the expression. Oh, yeah, he could definitely sleep for a week.

    He grabbed the hand offered to him and let Techno haul him to his feet. There was yelling and cheering and questions, and he leaned on Techno and shielded his face the best he could with his arm. Thankfully the spotlight was on Techno, and so he was able to pull his hood down further and hide as much as possible before anyone started asking questions about the man behind the mask.

    Speaking of. Techno tapped him on the arm, and he peered at the pig in a mix of curiosity and unease. In his hand was the mask— intact, mended from its break down the middle by whatever had been mending their weapons and armor, although the marker on it was a bit smudged. He took it and gave the other a grateful look, and that was the last anybody glimpsed of Brick’s face before he put Dream’s mask back on.

    Oh, god, his head hurt. Every piece of him from head to toe felt sore and strained, and Dream struggled to settle in to a body that was completely and utterly done with what he’d just put it through. Okay, crowd’s cheering, though, that’s good. Did we win? He grabbed Techno’s wrist and held both their arms up, looked up at the fireworks bursting overhead in a shower of colourful sparks. No, seriously, what happened?

    We lost, actually, Brick responded in a morose tone. Dream stopped. Can we go home?

    Dream sputtered in shock. Sure enough, the scoreboard verified Brick’s claim. The crowd was cheering Techno’s name, and “quoting” Sun Tzu (Dream was pretty sure Sun Tzu had never said any of that), and all the noise was making his headache worse. Techno gave him a sideglance and Dream waved him off. What do you mean, we lost?! We— Urrggh— I can’t believe this—  

    Techno observed Dream grab his head, then groan in drawn-out agony as the adrenaline finally wore off and everything caught up to him. “You look like you need rest,” he said in a blunt tone. “You don’t look so good.”

    Dream looked up at Techno and channeled as much incredulity into his body language as he could before his body— Brick’s body— finally decided it had enough and he collapsed. Techno looked down at the green heap of clothing, armor, and banged-up human at his feet, shrugged, and slung Dream over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before making his way to the exit.

    With everything else that happened that day, Dream’s shattering ended up being just a footnote they all soon forgot.