#i like it that c!punz hate c!techno but in the end c!dream still can't hate c!techno

[lazy30]

Fun fact about my c!dream white hair: he got it from stress but not from torture that he endured almost a year in the prison, but c!dream hair turned white when c!techno leave him...

C!dream doesn't know about c!techno plans, he doesn't know why c!techno is gone all of sudden despite his promise earlier about never leave c!dream rot in here, he doesn't know why he give him his red cloak, he doesn't know why c!techno say that he was his friend then disappear just like that...

C!techno is lying then...? In the end he was alone...? He's really not have family even a friend in his own server...? He never escape from this prison then...?

C!dream laugh hysterical for hours when he realized about this, even his loud laughing still can't make c!sam flinch

When c!quackity burn c!techno red cloak in front of c!dream, he just doesn't feel anything

[the-final-sif]

In Dreamon AU previous post, you said that Dream would purposely spend time with Quackity to prove he's not traumatized and I can't help but wonder how Quackity react to that or how other people react, because how do you react to that aside from disturbed horror, I mean, I can see Sapnap trying to get him to stop doing that but then what. Not to mention the whole 'a skeleton clips him with an arrow and he walks into the community house not noticing that there’s blood covering his whole shoulder'

Here's a very fun list of things:

The person who actually brings up the fact that c!Dream was tortured is c!Techno when everyone realizes what a poor state his body is in. He names c!Quackity as the one who did it, although he's not aware of the extent.

Dream literally would not have told anyone else about it either. When he wakes up and is finally questioned about the situation, he's quick to defend Quackity. He's firm that it was the Dreamon's influence and not Quackity's fault.

He needs it to be the Dreamon's influence. He needs it to not be something Quackity would really do. He needs it to be the Dreamon because he killed the Dreamon. He needs it to be over now.

Quackity... At first he's really not sure. There's part of him that wants to believe it was just the Dreamon. Certainly, he can now tell in reflection that his mind wasn't entirely his own. But there's a part of him that knows that he didn't fight it. He wasn't under the Dreamon's influence when he came up with the idea. He knows better then to excuse himself like that.

It's not until c!Schlatt is revived that it really hits Quackity. Because Schlatt was worse off than almost anyone else, maybe c!Wilbur had him beat. Maybe. And now that he's back and clear minded, it's easy to see that the Dreamon was influencing him. But Quackity can't help but still be fearful. Some part of Schlatt was still okay with doing what he did.

Prior to this realization, Dream had still been... not exactly hanging out with Quackity, but obviously forcing himself to interact/be in the same space as if he's trying to prove he's not afraid of him. Even though Quackity can catch him flinching out of the corner of his eye.

Quackity goes to c!Bad for help in the end, because Bad understands both sides of this. Bad encourages him to give Dream space, but talk to him eventually. Just not right now, when Dream is still such a wreck that one wrong shove might shatter him.

Also. Yeah. Dream has like, a new insane pain tolerance that's 50% the torture and 50% the longterm disconnect with his own body. The problem is his body is very fragile, so he can get seriously hurt, not notice, and then collapse without warning. It's terrifying for everyone but him. He's just... used to it. He's accepted this. At least that's what he tells himself.

One time it's walking into the community house with his entire left sleeve soaked in blood. c!Sapnap had a fucking heart attack, and Dream... he was upset that he had to wash his hoodie again.

The next time it's a baby zombie biting into his leg three or four times before c!Punz notices and kills it for him. Dream was busy with his admin work and never noticed it.

The time after that, it's him coming down with a 'strange aliment' where he's dizzy, cold, and his body gets weak to the point he can't stand. Dream insists he isn't sick. It takes nearly five hours of tests for c!Ponk to finally think to ask when the last time Dream ate was. Turns out his alarms were getting annoying so he paused them. It's been days since he last ate.

Dream tries to laugh it off. Tries to convince everyone else he's fine. He refuses to admit it might be a problem.

Until one day he has a close call with a creeper. Sure, he realized he got blown up, but he didn't know how bad the damage was to his back. There's nobody around, and before he thinks to ask for help, he's lost too much blood.

When he wakes up (someone found him, they found him and they moved him and he hates that he's somewhere new how did he get here-) c!Ranboo is there and he's been crying. Seeing Ranboo, who only had him for so long, who still has trouble opening up around others, crying because he almost lost Dream- It opens his eyes to at least part of the problem.

Dream is more careful after that.

[carpedzem]

since the staged finale confirmation I've been seeing some people discussing it there and there and most popular conclusions from people who don't like it are: they just don't like it (I can't relate but valid), it created more plot holes (it has been discussed) and it doesn't answer the question why?.

and for what I've seen, a lot of people have this mindset "it doesn't make sense if you connect all the dots about c!dream" and what I want people to understand that we can't connect the dots. there's still too many elements missing. this is how c!dream lore is written. we found out about revived book by the end of season 2. we found out about finale being staged by the end of the season 3. like dreblr or hate dreblr but we, too, spend a lot of our time trying to understand why. the only two things we can say for almost 100% is that the main abstract goal is "big happy family" (said by c!dream) and "server being normal again" (said by c!punz) and also that c!dream has a "any means to an end" mindset. that's it. it's too little to understand what c!dream goal is. here's some biggest mysteries we still are waiting the answer for:

what's the plan

what's c!dream and c!ranboo relation

is c!punz also the antagonist on the server

what is inside the 4 books c!dream gave to c!techno

how and why c!dream is connected with dreamxd

why c!dream put himself into prison

why prison was so inhumane

how does the revive book even work

why did c!boomer's hat suggest that c!dream has some kind of powers

what about his attachments, why did he want his armour back

are dreamons hunters still canon and if so, what's with that

disliking the stages finale is fine, it's subjective feeling, but if you try to look at c!dream and see all the answers you will be disappointed

[cdroloisms]

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell. 

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic. 

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad. 

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

[the-final-sif]

Yooo your aus are so cool and so interesting I am brain rotting so hard over the image of Dream halfway trying to survive himself while also taking care of a child and growing unwillingly kinda attached to him it's so cool

And I wanna ask if Punz has got any special or specific response to dream and everything he went through after he's escaped and more stable on the convict childcare au

My strat for dealing with brainrot is that I just infect everyone else with it so I'm not alone. I'm also very attached to c!Dream whose not a good person and not trying to be one, but whose in terrible circumstances and still fundamentally unable to stop himself from loving. And then after so long in isolation, there's a toddler in his arms who needs him. Who has nobody else, whose just as stuck as he is, and who he can't help but try for. Because someone has to. He can't help it, only hate it.

As for c!Punz, I can't believe I haven't brought him up yet! Basically, after c!Sam flees with Dream + Michael, Punz realizes something has gone wrong in the plan. He wants to help rescue Dream, but he doesn't know how. Ultimately, he ends up aiding the Syndicate, specifically going to c!Techno. He doesn't reveal everything, just tells them that he regrets betraying Dream and is on their side. Techno and Punz in this AU are sort of,,,, rivals isn't the right word, but like. Working on the same side but bitter towards one another. Punz blames Techno for not getting Dream out of prison quickly like he was supposed to, and Techno heavily mistrusts Punz because he believes that Punz betrayed Dream for money and only regretted it later. Still, they put their differences aside for the sake of the rescue, and once Dream is back to mediate, it goes pretty smoothly.

As for Punz' role, he plays a double agent role; working against the rest of the server to help the Syndicate reach Sam/Dream first. It's mostly shadows work, and he can't be there during the actual rescues but as soon as Dream's well enough to have guests, Punz manages to get out there to hug him, call him an idiot and apologize for not acting sooner. Michael takes to Punz relative quickly, both on account of Dream being very comfortable with Punz, and Punz being good with kids.