#sircantus asks

[sircantus]

Something something Technoblade hair dye something something PIGMENt

HaHA!!

[bunfloras]

Bun bunfloras

mars sircantus

[plasma-studios]

two bleeding birds (ao3: x)

AU where Ink and Error are old gods and Dream and Nightmare Avians kidnapped from their nest at birth.

Their abductors lock them away from the outside world and bind their wings. They abductors focus on Nightmare, leaving Dream to pass the time alone with daydreams and wistful dying hopes.

They make an unwilling weapon out of Nightmare.

Though Nightmare was sent out on countless assassination missions, Dream has never seen the sky since the day they were abducted, and how he longs for it.

When Nightmare gets injured severely and is unable to take on the next mission, Dream gets a chance to see the outside world again. He crosses paths with Ink and Error, who notice his condition, and... do not take kindly to it. Word count: 5.8k.

(also, yes i know the footnote numbers are linked to ao3. I am not going through the formatting again just to remove every link. so. the text of the footnotes are at the bottom, if you want to read them sure, if not, it's fine. tw/cw: implicit abuse, neglect, implied past dissociation, past abduction, fires, injuries, conflicting animal instinct vs logic, imprinting) inspired by Flight Risk (or not) by @sircantus.

Dream had spent a minute just staring at the sky, hand outstretched, feeling the weight and warmth of the light on his fingers. Just feeling the light almost made him forget the weight of bound wings on his back.

He had not been meant for this mission, in truth. It had been Nightmare’s, but he had returned from his previous one with several broken bones and a head injury.

Dream had felt himself jolt before realising it was fine. This was normal. Nightmare always returned with injuries. That was why Dream was needed. Dream was their healer. It was why he was useful. It was good that he was useful. 

He had been reminded of that several times over by them.

It was good to be useful. He had to be useful. 

He never mentioned this to Nightmare, though. The few times he had, Nightmare had went silent immediately and started glowering at his half-empty cup of water. It made the little time they had together very sour, so he learnt to stop bringing it up.

So he healed Nightmare’s bone fractures in silence, the green healing magic mingling with his gold magic as the wounds mended themselves. Once that was done, he shifted him so his skull was in Dream’s lap, and placed both hands on the injury and let the green mingle with the gold again. 

A wince leaving Nightmare was his cue to check on the injury. He removed his hands to wipe away the blood and found there was still a little left to heal, though it was all done in a matter of seconds. Dream sat there and waited for him to regain consciousness.

There was a time outside, wasn’t there? A time and place beyond this. A garden, flowers, grass and sky.  

Did he have a mother? A father? Or did he and Nightmare sprout from the skies like falling stars and grew wings because of it? That sounded like a story he’d heard before.

The sky and stars. Beautiful, even in stories and even in dreams.

Dream liked to daydream. It made passing the time easier. There were no major settlements for miles, anyway. Just roads and towns here and there, and even fewer within radius of them now. 

Nightmare begrudgingly confirmed it when he asked. Nightmare did not seem to like the world, so Dream did not ask much of it from him. Learning the world from books and stories was enough.

Speaking of.

It took a few minutes, but soon purple eyelights were blinking back at him. 

Nightmare winced as he got up, a hand flying to his head, but his gaze found Dream soon enough and he let out quiet sighs into the still silence that had settled between them, though it was not an uncomfortable quiet at all.

Nightmare stretched his fingers, his knuckles cracking. He bit back a laugh, and the knowing warmth in Nightmare’s eyes did nothing to help Dream quell it.

The laugh died down in his throat once he realised Nightmare was still wincing as he got up. That wasn’t good. Had Dream missed an injury? Had he—

The door slammed open. Nightmare’s gaze lost what warmth it had had. 

It was them. They stormed in, thundering against the wooden planks and— 

Dream hadn’t realised he’d edged closer to Nightmare, but the latter didn’t protest it. 

It was two of them this time. Dream recognised the first, though not the second.1 The former had thin-rimmed glasses and white fur with black spots near their neck and legs. They were the one who told Nightmare his missions, so he had to have recognised them too.

Dream missed the gleam of dark delight in his brother’s gaze. 

“You got your wings hurt?!” The voice of the one he did not recognise echoed through the room. “You—”

“Relax, Azre.” The one he did recognised rolled their eyes. “Healer’ll heal it.” They (both of them, both them and Azre apparently) found his gaze and Dream flinched.  “Won’t you?” The same person repeated. It wasn’t a question, but Dream nodded. Of course he would. Even if they hadn’t told him to, he would’ve done it. 

Wait. Nightmare’s wings were injured?

He hadn’t noticed Nightmare’s cyan wings dragging against the floor.

He turned quickly—

“You didn’t tell me you knew how to heal wing injuries.”

Nightmare wasn’t asking a question, and he wasn’t asking it to Dream either. He was still looking at the pair in the doorway, speaking in monotone even as his own brother went stock still. 

Dream’s stomach had dropped. It was as if someone had punched a hole in it.

He didn’t know how to heal wing injuries. 

He hadn’t even seen his own wings in years. 

“You don’t?” Azre cut in. 

Dream hesitated. He— he could learn. He could try. He could still be useful—

“No.” The other cut in. “Wing injuries are too risky. He’s never healed any other wing before, and if he messes it up…” He fought not to flinch when their cold gaze landed on him. “Assassin is worth more than Healer. We’re not risking Assassin’s ability—”

“Don’t call me that,” Nightmare hissed. 

“You would rather us call you a nightmare? And Healer, believe me, you’re far from a dream.” They snorted, before turning back to Azre. “My point stands. It’s just too risky.”

The silence hung between them like a venomous tension.

“What a shame,” Nightmare sighed with sudden contriteness.2 “I guess won’t be able to complete the next mission… it’s in, what, two days?”

They bit a scowl back, but it showed for a split second. “Tomorrow.”

Azre swore.

Nightmare’s defiant delight wasn’t missed this time.

Oh. Nightmare had done it on purpose. When he caught his eye, he shrugged with exaggerated innocence and Dream had to choke back his laugh this time.

A snort left him in its place and it immediately drew Azre’s ire. 

“You think you’re safe, Healer? Locked up in your little birdcage? We could always take something back. A finger, perhaps? You don’t need all ten to heal—”

“Wait.” The other interrupted their rant with no small note of annoyance. “Healer isn’t entirely useless here. Couldn’t we just send him?”

A startled noise fell from his mouth. Nightmare’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Him?” Azre echoed them with no small amount of incredulity. “He’s never—”

The light, the wind, the sun, the sky, freedom, flight—

“He’s still an Avian, like Assassin; his instincts shouldn’t be underestimated. He knows enough magic to send a bone attack. Even then, it doesn’t matter if he fails,” They said bluntly. “They won’t have any guards, so it’s safe enough. It’s not far, and it’s not like we’re being paid much for this mission. We could always demand more gold if Healer fails to get them this time.”

Dream felt a breath in his throat as if it was a stone.

“If he fails, there won’t be a next time,” Azre muttered, but his resistance wasn’t with much fire. 

He found—

He found he didn’t entirely hate the idea.

Nightmare moved forward. “I’m fine, I can go—”

“I want to go.” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could think it through. 

Nightmare flinched. “I can go. My injury isn’t very severe—”

An impatient sigh came from them as they strode in and tore what little cloth obscured the wing injury away with surprising speed. 

The stone breath fell back into his throat in an instant.

The cyan was stark, so bright it was blinding. Or it would’ve been, if it weren’t for the tear in the cyan, ripping through the very root of the feathers and leaving a trail o withered feathers. it was a long tear. From just the look of it, it would take much, much more than a day to heal.

Nightmare swallowed his protest. “Dream hasn’t gone on any missions before, he might not be able to manage—”

“He’s an Avian.” Their reply was curt. “He’ll be fine.”

“He’ll get hurt.”

“He’s a healer, isn’t he?” Azre responded cruelly, but Dream found it was a truth. He was a healer, wasn’t he? He could heal himself if he got hurt on the mission. It wasn’t an issue.

“He’ll— he’ll—” Nightmare looked to him for support but Dream had nothing to say.

Nightmare stared at him.

—flight, fall, freedom, light, life

Dream looked back.

light, sunlight, the clouds, the sky—

“Do you want me to stay?” He hesitantly asked.

Nightmare’s face fell further.

“I—”

His gaze turned hollow. 

“You can go if you want to.”

A pang of guilt hit Dream, but— 

sun, flight, free, free— 

No. He squashed it down. Not free. Never free. 

(The thought of sky seemed to sing to him.)

“Come with us, Healer. We’ll brief you.”

He left Nightmare in the room alone, feeling oddly empty as he stepped over the threshold. ***

Dream had forgotten how the heat of the sunlight weighed. The weight on his back was hardly any weight at all as he stumbled along the dirt road with Azre. His breaths kept catching in his throat, as if unsure whether or not to breathe this new air.

“You remember the plan?”

“Yes.” Dream did. He’d been running through it in his head all night. 

“I’ll go through it again.” He sighed irritated. “I’ll drop you off along the road. Hide well, but make sure you have a good enough view to shoot. The target should pass you an hour or two in a carriage after I leave you.”

“Okay,” Dream said simply, hands shifting. 

“What do you do if you succeed?”

“Follow the dirt road back.”

“What do you do if you fail?”

“Hide and wait.”

Azre gave a stiff nod. “And we’ll come bring you back if you fail.” He stopped and turned. “This is a good spot. Hide and wait for them to come.”

Dream didn’t look back as Azre left. He shifted into position and hid in the bushes like how he’d been taught before they had turned all their attention to Nightmare, though the sky was calling to him endlessly. His fingers kept twitching every time he caught sight of the sky above him, and every time he forced them to lay still he felt the wings on his back grow heavier. 

What colour were his wings again? Were they gold? That would make sense, since his magic was gold. 

Nightmare’s magic was purple, and his wings were cyan.

Perhaps his wings weren’t gold. His fingers twitched.

Dream hadn’t thought much about the target until he realised he would be sending a bone attack into their carriage in an hour or so..

It was fine. He didn’t have to hurt them. He could send it into the door to minimise contact with them since the seats would be at the sides. He could just give them a nasty shock. They said it was okay to fail the mission, anyway.

He had an hour or so, so he had time to think, but all these thoughts were reminding him of the time he asked why Nightmare was allowed to have his wings out when he went on missions. I thought we weren’t allowed to have our wings out, he had asked. 

They hadn’t laughed, but he’d seen the amusement bloom in their face.

Because he’d have to leave you behind to fly away, they’d replied.

Dream had said nothing about it after. 

The sky was a beautiful blue. The clouds were a beautiful mist, a pearly white. It really was beautiful. The weight of the sunlight clung on his fingertips like rings.

(How would the sun feel on his wings?) ***

The rumble of wheels on dirt caught his attention. He stilled. There was the carriage, wheels rolling on the road, getting closer and closer.

He noticed the strange air around them. That made sense. There was no coachman, so it was probably being manipulated by magic.

It was getting closer.

His fingers stiffened. He watched the turning wheels, then when it got too risky to stare out his gaze fell to the ground and watched the shadows instead. The carriage was getting closer. Closer.

Dream swallowed.

Golden light crackled between his fingers, a spark fell to the ground.

The bone tore through the door of the carriage.

The wheels stopped turning. Dream let out a breath. 

The door tore open. The bone broke, one half stuck in the ground and the other embed in the broken door. Dream stopped breathing. 

The door and half-bone was tossed to the ground and was promptly trampled upon by a glitched Monster barging out. 

Dream’s chest seized. Oh no.

“Who the fuck was it, huh?! When I get my hands on you—”

“Calm down.” A voice called out from the carriage. “You’ll encourage them to shoot again.”

A second Monster strode out behind him, giving a face to the second voice. He strode to the bone rising out of the ground. “Interesting.” He stuck two fingers out, trapping the bone attack between them. “Gold like the sunlight. It’s rather beautiful, actually.” “Is flattery your plan to subdue the assassin?”

“I’m holding hope that it wasn’t an assassin. Hello! I know you can hear me. If you’re not an assassin and that was just an accident, I hope you’ll show yourself now. For your own sake, friend.”

Dream didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.

It wasn’t that he was an assassin. No, that was Nightmare’s job. It was more of an instinct not to draw the ire or attention of either the man who’s magic had torn through wood as if it were flesh in seconds, or that of the man who was able to subdue the former with mere words.

“Alright, then, probably an assassin,” They said, popping the ‘p’. “Friend, if you come out right now, I’ll pay you triple what you’ve been promised you for my head.” 

After a few seconds, he frowned at the clear lack of response.

“Clever of them.” The glitched Monster turned to the other. “We both know they wouldn’t live if they came out anyway.”

“I was just trying to give them a chance.” He sighed and turned back.

Something quieter and smaller than an exhale escaped him. Yet the glitched Monster’s gaze didn’t leave the area, scanning over the foliage with no small amount of amusement. 

Something was odd. Every fibre in his body screamed at him to stay still, to not even breath.

He kept very still. He had failed, so he was supposed to hide.

And they wouldn’t leave just like that.

Dream kept very—

Something tugged at his feet.

Everything went silent.

His gaze was torn downwards. It was… a black mass? It shifted over the grass, reaching and twisting around his feet—

“Gotcha.”

Something in him snapped and he yanked his foot away. Dream broke into a run. 

“Hello, friend! You can call me—” Something tore at his neck. “Ink.” He turned to catch a glimpse of the slit along his shoulder, around the edge of his neck. The cheerful smile of his pursuer made something in him shiver. “Though I suppose friend’s a little misleading, considering you just tried to kill me.”

It wasn’t the glitched Monster, yet— yet this was worse. A dull terror struck him as he realised he hadn’t shaken all the black mass off and that it was pulling his feet to the ground with every step even as he fought to keep running away. 

Strings tore into his bones and a tiny scream fell to the ground from between his teeth. They hurt. They hurt so badly. They felt like the little needles they’d struck him with when he’d tried to run away that first night. 

He tried to tear the strings away but that only made him hurt more.

He remembered that soft, unyielding oblivion as he was pulled under by the drugs.

No. No no no—

Blue bones glitched into existence around him.

“That’s the end of the chase, I’m afraid.”

(The strings did not feel as bad as dull needles.)

The black mass lunged and pulled him to the ground.

What good was that? No amount of magic would get him out the ring with two obviously powerful Monsters waiting on him on high alert (except maybe teleportation, but he had never been taught that, they said it would’ve let him leave too easily) so what good was that little comfort when—

“Ahh. There’s our little assassin.” The other leaned over the ring of bones. He frowned. “You’re small.”

“Hypocrite.” The glitched monster spoke dryly, but Dream saw the glacial fury in their mismatched eyelights. 

The fury was aimed at him. 

Well, Dream thought. Fuck.

Huh. He hadn’t thought fuck in years. He’d only ever heard Nightmare say it once.

A hand landed on his shoulder. It wasn’t the glitched Monster, it was the other. “You must be surprised. I wasn’t the one meant to make this delivery, you know.” His grip tightened on his shoulder and it felt nothing like Nightmare. “Last minute change. Favour for a friend.”

“Our friend,” The glitched Monster did not smile. “And they happen to be a very kind person. I have to wonder what sort of person would want CORE Frisk dead.”3

“A very foolish one,” The other continued. “Because it would’ve hurt CORE4, but not kill them. Yet the fool here can be killed. I’m curious, little one.” The other gently tilted his chin back, but the dark curiosity in his eyes did not stop the wound in his shoulder/neck from aching. “Hm, I caught you in the neck. What made you think you would succeed?” He didn’t.

He thought he would.

He thought it didn’t matter.

“Probably hubris. Wouldn’t be the first.” Something (the strings, he acknowledged vaguely) tugged him away to the glitched Monster. “I have a better question. Who and what sent you?”

Dream shook his head. His skull slid to the side, desperately looking for something—

“That won’t do. You have to answer our questions, or Error here will just kill you off, right now.” The other nodded at the glitched Monster… Error, apparently. Fitting name. Whatever humour that was there was lost as Dream shuddered. 

“Well?” The nameless one asked again. “Answer.”

Answer. He had to answer.

But he didn’t know the answer. 

“I don’t know,” He said truthfully. He really didn’t.

A gasp left him as the strings around him tightened. 

“You don’t know?” Error repeated incredulously. The nameless one held a hand up. “He might be telling the truth. He’s small, after all.”

The two exchanged looks. 

The strings were loose, Dream tried picking them off his bones— 

“Don’t even think about it.” He bit back a sigh. The strings had tightened right back.

Then strings laxed. Error’s eyebrows creased. “How old are you?”

He swallowed the fear in his throat. 

“I— I don’t know—”5

That was the wrong thing to say, because it made Error’s gaze turn from distantly curious to glacial. Dream froze. 

“Ah.” That was the extent of Error’s response, because then the strings completely fell off him. He stared at the blue strands on the ground, uncomprehending. 

“Do you know your name?” The other asked, more softly than before. 

A spark of indignation sprouted in him at that. Of course he knew what his name was.

“Of course I do.”

Error snorted, but the other didn’t back down. “What’s your name?” 

He didn’t want to tell them his name. Ink’s gaze turned purple to blue, the mischievous glint fading to an aching coldness in a instant. Something in him lurched.

“Healer.”

Blue into green. “Well, I know there’s a trend of roles becoming names, but I find it so off-putting. It feels wrong to refer to people by their purpose. No other name?”

Dream shook his head. 

“Here, little one. I’ll give you my name in exchange, alright? It’s Ink.”

“He could just not have a name. Or maybe he does and forgot it. You would’ve.” Ink broke eye contact to shoot Error an annoyed look. “Most people know me as the Destroyer, not as Error.” 

Something cold curdled in Dream’s stomach.

“That’s because most don’t live long enough to learn your name.” Ink straightened up. 

His name was Ink. He shivered. Wasn’t that a familiar name? 

The black mass, curling around his feet with the quiet promise of manacles if he tried to escape. Ink’s ink. 

Ink.

A God that lived amongst the living. The sole survivor of bloody battles. The Justiciar. The Protector, but only of the wrongfully hurt and wrongfully broken. A fatalistic force of nature. 

Of Creation.

Everyone knew him. Even Dream knew him, from the rare books of Myths and Legends he got to pass the time in those four walls. 

“You’re a God,” He breathed. 

Ink blinked.

“Oh, that was quick. But no,  I wouldn’t call myself a God.” He broke off with a laugh, but Dream’s gaze was already on… Error.

Those blue strings. The very trademark of the Destroyer.

He wanted to throw up.

Error. The Destroyer. The God that brought destruction to the living, the face of catastrophic wars and battles. Not the Justiciar, but the Punishment. The axe and executioner of the sinners and sinned. 

Error seemed to have read his face. “You don’t need to be scared of me.”

Error, of Destruction.

And they were both peeking at him over the ring of blue bones.

Dream sank back into the ground face-first. He barely even registered the ink leaving his feet. 

“Don’t do that,” He vaguely heard one of them say. “You’ll get dirt on your face.” 

The strings reattached themselves, tangling with his waist and arms before pulling his torso back up. Dream tried tearing them off again, albeit half-hearted, but they yanked him—

—white hot, searing.

He saw white.

pain painpain—

He choked back blood (why was he tasting blood?) as he reached for— what?— (something, someone, anyone, peace home safety freedo—)6

His magic found him, blooming bright into a thousand golden sparks—

And the sound of ripped fabric.

The tension bled out of him. Dream blinked the white out of his eyes, burning warmth spilling down his eyesockets like nothing at all. 

“— Healer!”

He blinked again and shook it off. “I— I don’t—”

He was breathing. He was breathing differently. Something was different. 

“Ink.” 7

“Can you hear me?” He looked up to find Ink face to face with him. He flinched—

He didn’t flinch. 

(home, together, embrace, warmth—)8

Huh? 

“Ink. You really have to see this.”

“Hold on. Can you hear me, Healer?”

“Dream.” The name slipped out before he could force it back. Huh?9 “My real name’s Dream.”

“Okay, Dream, breathe with—”

“Ink!”

“I know,” Ink turned to hiss. “ I did see his magic, but he’s in the midst of a panic attack—”

Dream pressed against his throat, confused why his voice had suddenly betrayed him and given his name. 

“It wasn’t a panic attack.” Error’s voice began with an exasperated growl, but it tapered off into just exasperation. “Just— just look.”

“Fine—” Ink went silent. 

The silence made him look back up. Ink was staring at something behind him. A terribly cold fear hit him. What was it this time?

Almost unwittingly, Dream followed his line of sight. A horrible hollowness followed.

He first saw the taut strings, and realised they were propping him up. Beneath the blue, there was unmistakable white.

Oh. He breathed what seemed like his first breath in years and it was not a sweet breath. That explained the pain earlier. He must’ve overestimated Error’s pull and launched himself backwards.

The strings had torn through his wing bindings. 

The crumpled, mangled mass of feathers certainly did not seem able to hold his weight at all.

No wonder it hurt so much.

“Oh.” Ink echoed his thought. “He’s an Avian.”

Something dawned on him and made his chest seize again. A terrible glimmer of emotion blinked through the haze of cold numbness and it was of fear. 

Fear, of them. 

They would be furious if They learnt his wings had been unbound. They would be so angry. He wasn’t allowed to have his wings unbound. He wasn’t allowed. He had broken their rules.

He was going to get in trouble.

Dream was shuddering.

“Dream.” His head whipped up. Error looked furious. “Did you bind your wings… yourself?"

No, of course he didn’t. They did. But Error looked so angry. Would he get angrier if Dream said no?

He steadied himself. No, he shouldn’t lie. He’d get himself in even more trouble, so he shook his head. 

“Who did?” Ink’s voice was so quiet he barely heard it. “Was it… was it the same people who sent you?”

He was suddenly grateful and he didn’t know why. He nodded.

Ink cursed. It felt odd to hear such a quiet voice curse. 

“He has to come with us.” The voice was so quiet, Dream almost thought it was Ink speaking. “He isn’t going back to them.” Error spat out the last word like it was dirt. Dream did not hear Error’s footsteps as he stepped behind him.

(Though he was glowering, Dream had the oddest feeling of being safe under it.)

“No,” Ink replied, just as softly. “Of course not.” 

When Ink’s gaze hit him, Dream shrunk back.

“It’s alright, little one.” Ink said softly. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

He shrunk—

(safe, home, together)

—huh?

He couldn’t move. Ink reached for him; he was smiling but it was with teeth and it didn’t match his eyes either. 

All the fear drained out of Dream and left nothing but an aching tiredness. 

Dream didn’t take his hand, so Ink instead wiped the dirt from the ground off the former’s face with the outstretched hand. The contact didn’t even make Dream shudder. He was that exhausted, it seemed.

(Something in him made a happy little noise. It was the joyful chirp of a little fledgling.)

“Dream?” He felt someone, probably Error, tap his shoulder. “There’s still some cloth tangled with… your wings. I’m going to remove what I can with my strings. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

No. The word formed immediately, but just thinking it made him wince. Yet the dull fear that thudded through him seemed to grow sharper every passing second. He cast a look back. It was ugly; a mangled mess of feathers and cloth, but it was evidence of some struggle, at least. 

He could get away with a few scratches if he said it had been removed against his will, but if he agreed now, he’d be complicit. 

And that would make them even more angry. 

He forced the no out, but it was soft, so soft that he didn’t think they heard it.

“It’s for the best, little one.” Ink bent down and held his hands in his. He still shook his head. “Are you saying no because you’re scared it’ll hurt?”

For some reason, when he made eye contact, his throat squeezed with the odd urge to cry. Then his head betrayed him by bringing up the image of Azre’s face and the terrible lump in his throat melted into something that tasted oddly like blood.

He shook his head again. No, he wasn’t scared of his wings hurting. He wasn’t scared of that hurt.

“You think you’re safe, Healer? Locked up in your little birdcage? We could always take something back. A finger, perhaps? You don’t need all ten to heal—”

But Azre would hurt him if he let them take the cloth off. Maybe he wouldn’t even take a finger. Maybe he’d take his wings. For good.10

“Is there another reason why you’re saying no?” Ink asked so gently. 

Azre was furious when Nightmare had returned with injured wings. What if—

Dream went still.

(not safe, danger, help me—)

Azre had called him useless. He wasn’t useless, but Nightmare was certainly more useful to them. Healers were less rare than Avians. Dream wasn’t irreplaceable to them. 

So what if—

He’d threatened to take a finger because Dream laughed. 

What if this time, Azre took—

“They’ll kill me,” He whispered. “If you take my bindings off.”

—his life?

The silence hung between them like the gap between life and death. Ink’s eyelights had disappeared completely.

(Something inside him whimpered.)

“Error, take it off.”11

A gasp throttled through Dream as the sound of torn fabric echoed in his head. He felt arms around him, holding him still as the strings tore through—

(soft, embrace, home)

“Done. ” 

Dream wanted to cry out as someone pulled at the torn feathers. The hand stopped and he was able to breathe again. He couldn’t move in the firm embrace, but he was able to turn his head back ever so slightly.

He could see some yellow feathers in the white, now.

The strings had destroyed the cloth entirely. No scraps were left. None.

The Destroyer’s wrath is terrifying not for its bloodshed, but because it is utter destruction. It has no room for mercy. It refuses even the release of death.

Slowly, he made eye contact with Error. 

“All done, kid.” 

Ink released him, but Dream still felt as if he was being suffocated.

“Dream, they’re not going to leave even a finger on you. I swear it on my life.”

“You’re immortal,” He muttered, but Ink still caught it and broke into a grin. 

“That I am! So you don’t need to worry about them hurting you again. You will be safe with us.”

(Safe. The word echoed inside him.)

It weighed on his tongue and suddenly he didn’t want to say anything at all.

Dream took a breath, another, and lost the thread of fear. He thought vaguely, I want to sleep now.

Ink caught his chin before it could fall.

And he was gone, out like a light. ***

“Well, that solves that problem.”

Ink sighed. He bent down and shifted Dream into a supporting embrace so he wouldn’t wake up with a killer headache, 

“Stars.” He said it like a swear. “Error, I think he might have imprinted on us.”

“Stars?” He repeated, then paused. “Ah. Crap.”

“Yes, stars, he’s a ch— fledgling. I’m not swearing in front of him. And yes, ‘crap’ is right.”

“It’s fine, he’s asleep, but— isn’t that good? That means he hasn’t imprinted much on the fuckers that took him.”

“Well— that, yes.” His gaze went cold, before melting into the warmth of concern. “But that means he’ll be dealing with his Avian instincts. You know what imprinting on someone means for them, right?”

Error’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Vaguely?”

He smiled bitterly.

“I have a hunch he doesn’t what imprinting means. It doesn’t seem like they bothered to educate him much on his own heritage.” 

Error’s gaze grew dark. The strings around them twitched. Ink shook his head. 

The strings went still again. 

“I’m guessing he’s dealing with new instincts because he imprinted. Probably much more different than the instincts he’s used to. More… familial.” Ink shifted his grip so he wouldn’t put much pressure on Dream’s wings. Carefully, he stroked Dream’s wings, stopping at a single yellow feather. 

“It’s all atrophied, and look at this. He has so few yellow feathers. He hasn’t used his magic in ages.”

Error hummed his agreement. “Magic use affects wing colours. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to use magic much.” 

“Yes,” Ink said softly. “He must’ve been born with white. Maybe the yellow feathers here were just from that burst of magic earlier."

"I’ll check.”

A single blue string drifted into view, slowly and so much slower than the previous strings.. It looped around Dream’s soul, gentle even then.

Then there was an odd pressure that made him stir slightly, and a golden light.

“Careful.” 

“I know.” The string wrapped around the gold glow. The quiet of contemplation weaved its way into their silent anticipation. 

“....That’s peculiar.”

Ink turned. “What is?”

“He’s… already imprinted on someone else.”

A coldness washed over him. “Who?”

Error was silent momentarily. Then—

“Nightmare. Twin of Dream. Fellow Avian,” He read aloud. “And you and me, obviously.”

The two exchanged looks. 

“He has a twin?” Ink’s horror was quickly understood by Error. The sheer idea of another soul in the same hellhole made something in him want blood. 

Especially someone like a fledgling Avian.

The two went silent. 

The God of Creation held the sleeping Dream in his arms, and the God of Destruction watched them. 

Dream did not know it, but he had never been safer. ***

Later, Dream would awake beneath blankets and dim lights that reminded him of stars. He would blink the tears of a nightmare away and watch as they soaked his pillow. 

Nest, a part of him would coo. 

There would come a time where he would not fight it. 

Then, one day, Ink would ask him where they were.

There was only ever one ‘they’.

Down the dirt road, he would say. 

And Ink would understand.

Once they found Nightmare, wings splayed out and bitter tear tracks as if carved into his very cheeks, there was no mercy left to be found.  

Nightmare was left outside, and he watched with the skies as the wrath of the Gods was realised. Soon the screams of those who took what never should have been theirs echoed into the skies, and the skies would not care for them for they had taken two of their own.

Nightmare watched their destruction with little reaction. One by one, the floors collapsed into dust and then nothing. He folded his wings as the screams gave out one by one. 

He saw a tuff of white landing on a windowframe a floor above, fading into black at the corner. 

Fur from a Monster who had had white fur spotted with black.12

He snapped his fingers and it burst into flames13. Mercy was sleeping in a pile of blankets and pillows. 

And the wrath of the Gods left nothing but utter destruction in its wake. 

Nightmare reached up and felt his cheek, felt the exhaustion, desperation and fear. He remembered the utter terror that had reached him when he realised something had gone wrong, and Dream would not return.

But Dream was safe, and Nightmare was finally going to leave this place. 

He and Dream were free of it. 

The fires cast shadows over him, and he closed his eyes. 

It felt cleansing.

The God of Destruction serves not as the Justiciar, but as the final Punishment. His wrath is terrifying not for its bloodshed, but because it is utter destruction. It has no room for mercy. It refuses even the release of death.

Though the God of Creation is the Justicar, the Protector, he is feared as much as he is revered for the Protector’s justice is not mere bloodshed either. It is worse. It is quiet, it is unyielding, and it is true punishment.

Far away, a little gold bird slept with preened wings, waiting for his brother to join him in his nest.

When a little cyan bird dipped into it, though his mind was muddled with sleep, some part of him heard him and cooed, family.

Then, quietly; home.

Footnotes:

the birbs. *nods approvingly* 1. Dream did not recognise Azre, which is why his inner monologue focused on the other Monster. 2. I believe it's obvious, but Nightmare did not find it a shame at all. 3. CORE Frisk had other matters to attend to, so unfortunately they couldn't make the delivery and asked their old friends Ink and Error to do it on their behalf. CORE Frisk was the target of the mission, not Ink and Error. 4. CORE Frisk happened to be immortal like Ink and Error, but not quite invincible. 5. Both Ink and Error had seen youthful souls capable of both foolishness and cruelty, so the Dream's young appearance did not seem cause for much concern, albeit perhaps a sign that Dream was merely acting on somebody, perhaps someone older,'s orders. However, learning Dream did not know his own age was cause for concern, because it was a possible indication of Dream's lack of autonomy over his own life. Dream, however, did not notice any of this, and only saw Error's physical reaction, not thought process. 

6. Birb instinct. And repressed trauma. 7. Error had noticed something neither Ink nor Dream (well, consciously) had noticed.  8. I'm not SAYING this was when Dream imprinted on them. But. His birb brain does seem to be going a bit haywire, huh? (Expect most of the lowercase words in brackets to be birb brain too.)  9. Birb brain: family asks me something I know. trust them. must not lie. Dream: ?????? 10. Avian wings were nowhere as pricey as Avians themselves, but Dream knows he's nowhere as useful an Avian as Nightmare is to their abductors, so he's on much thinner ice; Avian wings are still very valuable in a normal context. Though he doesn't internally refer to them as abductors. That would mean antagonizing them, and he doesn't want to speed his death up. 11. Error and Ink had unanimously made a decision. 12. Sounds familiar? 13. For any confused readers, he was using magic.

[sohrleas]

Flower boi - MCYT

AM SUCKER FOR ART PLEASE PLEASE

Yay!! Yeah of course, thank you for asking!!

It's still in the sketchy-line art stage, where a lot can be adjusted. It's based off of "(The things) that you have won" by Sircantus because I'm weak for bedrock bros.

...I also get to practice drawing flowers, so that's a bonus!

[grungiiuvu]

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love 🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧸 🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? 🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character sorry if these are a bunch of questions lol i'm just curiousssss :)

NEVER APOLOGISE!! I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF <3

🌵 ⇢ https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7n1l75dYwZyEHcDIsMvsZa?si=1598dc802c9542ae (this is an OC playlist, but I love my girls :)) if anyone asks me about them, i start sobbing fr)

🥤 ⇢ there's sircantus, who's from the mcyt fandom, pearl from the haikyuu fandom, who is just the SWEETEST, and then my favourite fengqing fic of all time

🍄 ⇢ contrary to semi-popular belief, Mu Qing's love language is NOT acts of service, it's quality time. Feng Xin's love language is acts of service, tho, so Mu Qing does his best to try demonstrate that he loves him through attempting to do things.

🧸 ⇢ just keep talking/engaging with me tbh lol, i latch onto conversations very quickly. that and catch me early when i move into new fandoms haha

🍬 ⇢ ...yue qingyuan was kinda just... a bit shitty? I dont really like him and fail to understand the hype. I understand that he loved Shen Jiu but he ruined everything for himself by not telling the truth. But, tbf, i am never a fan of 'bleeding heart' characters, so that's personal bias.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

humbly asking for your current favourite techno-centric sbi fics? mine are Chosen by the stars by sircantus, To Be Truly Free by CleanLenins, White Flags Across My Back by floristkills, and of course pretty much all of your ongoing fics

(if you don't mind sharing of course)

Ongoing fic specifically, I'm assuming? In the Dark SBI range, since that's what you're opening with, I concur that 'To Be Truly Free' by CleanLenins and 'White Flags Across My Back' by floristkills are absolute bangers. I'm also EXTREMELY excited for where 'In the Caring Hold of the Abyss' by Firelord_Lia & KublaiKhan is headed. And while there's only one chapter, 'Feverish Dog Days' by DemonInTheGutter is looking to shape up pretty interesting.

In the not Dark SBI range, just other Techno fanfics I've been following, there's 'Technoblade's Withering Cringe Compilation' by Firelord_Lia that stands out to me. I'm also eager to see if 'You Take The Sky, I'll Take The Ground; That Way We'll Both Be Free' by TheArcanneVoid ever gets updated. I really like the premise.

I can also recommend ALL other fics by floristkills in general, they never miss ('Suffer All the Children' is my current obsession) and anything written by my beloved friend miss_universe (especially soft bunny, hard world' and 'but who looks after you?')

[mcyt-fic-library]

Hi, I have a bit of a weird question and I'm asking around to see if anyone has answers

I really liked both sircantus' "I was a kid in the village doing alright, then i became a prince overnight" and hedgehoggeryyy's "no cause for concern". I was wondering if anyone knows any good books with similar tropes or scenarios?

Hey Anon!

So these fics don't actually have a lot in common with each other, (the only tag they share is 'Found Family'), so here are three fics that are sorta similar to both, but also pretty different. Sorry this isn't super helpful

only the blind can see by merikai

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti)

[bonesandthebees]

Ider if i told u but i got my wisdom teeth removed today and that shit was the worst experience of my life ohmygod

The actual procedure went okay, though like i took an anti anxiety med that was supposed to knock me out but i was Fully Conscious LMFAO AND SO I ASKED THEM TO GIVE ME THE OTHER ONE BUT THEY WERE LIKE "naur bro ur fine" BC I WSNT FREAKING OUT A TON DJFKGKF WHICH I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR (tho it turned out to be a good thing bc those meds ended up making me . Hashtag emetophobia tw ifykwim)

BUT YEAH THE RECOVERY PROCESS WAS SHITTTT THEY TOLD ME I COULD TAKE OUT THE GAUZE IN 2 HRS AND SLEEP BC I WAS VERY TIRED BUT NOOOO IT WOUKDNT HEALLL FOR A WHOLE SIX ASS HOURS

Ahem sorry for yelling i was just very . Upset bc i wanted to sleep or even just drink fucking water man

BUT I DIDDD EVENTUALLY I DIDD WE REJOICEEE i think there was still a little bit of blood but i couldnt taste it anymore and i was really thirsty so shfkfkf and food (literally just broth lmao) made me feel a lot better so that's good

But yeah . -1100000 experience i would literally never recommend it (unless u have to, also from who I've talked to almost everyone else has had a better experience than me so if u are scared, do not worry king it won't be that bad. And even if it is like me, im here!! And alive!! And the nausea wasnt that bad, it kinda just came and went. Much better than migraines bro fr, migraines suck BALLS)

Like everyone kept telling me to watch a movie but that was stressing me out so what i ended up doing wss putting on a podfic (passerine podcast on yt woot woot, i listened to change fate by sircantus) and man it's actually wild how much it helped me. It helped calm my anxiety AND distract me from the pain. Once i did that existing felt less like suffering and more like an annoyance ahahah

OUGH I DIDNT EVEN GET ANY SILLY GOOFY MOMENTS EITHER BC I WASNT LOOPY AT ALL JUST TIRED DHFJFK

Anyways ty for letting me get that out of my system LMAOO

oh man this sounds literally horrible I'm so sorry icy 😭 that sucks that you weren't able to knock out even a little bit but at least the procedure itself wasn't horrible

god that sounds terrible though just sitting there for 6 hours waiting to be able to take the gauze out. that's so strange that it took so long. but at least you were able to listen to passerine podcast that's nice!!

everyone I know whose gotten their wisdom teeth removed had a better experience than this I am so sorry you got so unlucky.

I'm very grateful that I'm never gonna have to get my wisdom teeth removed. I had soooo much horribly painful dental work done to my mouth throughout my entire teen years that I now genuinely get bad anxiety anytime I'm in a dentist office even if I'm not there for myself, I straight up was getting anxious when I took my grandma there for a cleaning the other day 😭 and I keep putting off a recommended (minor) procedure bc of this anxiety it's badddd

I hope you're feeling better now though!!

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Past The Yellow Flowers

by sircantus

“And your name?” The fae asks, a hand held out, his voice so kind and sweet that Tommy nearly forgets himself, forgets the warnings he’s been given.

He opens his mouth to answer, then shuts it just as quickly.

“Uh.” Tommy says, like a fool. Now that was close. Too close.

(Or, a story in which Tommy has always been too curious for his own good.)

Words: 2415, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot, Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fae, Fae & Fairies, Family Dynamics, Found Family, In which Tommy is told "dont talk to the fae", and in usual Tommy fashion, he talks to the fae, and what happens when you talk to the fae?, Surprise Adoption, love to see it, Author Is Going To Explode Spontaneously From Sheer Joy Over This Fic, Slightly dark sbi, They're not evil but like, they are magical beings who smite humans so

[grey-rambles]

Hey Grey,

You got any really angsty sbi preferably bad dad Phil/ shitty family fanfics or just any Tommy angst.

I love reading about that kid getting destroyed and put back together.

(but mostly the destruction) Yes I became immune to Ranboo streams so I turned to fanfiction to bring me tears.

Oof, I'm not the best person to ask for this since I'm a fluff and happy ending lover, but here's what I could come up with

Caveat: I haven't actually read most of these, but they're by authors who's other works I like, so I trust that they're good

that's it it's split (it won't recover) by frosted_nudibranch; Tommy becomes addicted to dying and being revived. This one is heart wrenching!

Cherry Wine by SilverWing15; Dark SBI vampire AU with lots of trauma and manipulation. Haven't read this one, but I love their other work!

Evermore by rabiddog; Tommy is the neglected youngest son of the Royal Family. Hanahaki AU

ring ring ring banana phone by sircantus; short psychological horror piece with mind manipulation and gaslighting. I did read this one, and poor Tommy is sooo traumatized and confused throughout this one

Humpty Dumpty by ChocolatesLovechild; this one has a happy ending, but it starts with Tommy going around saying his good byes before killing himself.

A Voice from the Stars by SilverWing15; seems like a kidnapping fic, with Phil as Tommy's very absent father. Haven't read this one either, sorry for bad summary....

I hope something in here strikes your fancy!!

[bedrock-to-buildheight]

okay this is going to be so out of context and out of left field altogether but i built a tower to the height limit and it waw done in your name for some reason. it took me 32 stacks of sand (im sorry i cant get bedrock) and ive dubbed it the fuck tower

on a better note i love your work a lot and i really enjoy reading about your world building thank you for making all this (and thanks for introducing me to snapshots in lavender i love it and your piece for it)

Hey look how hard I can cry ;;;;;;;;;w;;;;;;;;; thank you, there is still so much world building to do and I can't wait to release them upon the unsuspecting public

May fuck tower rides eternal (or get destroyed in a wholly stupid fashion)

[sircantus]

Hey, I found these old doodles from 'change fate' on my phone and I don't know if I've showed you it :D

:O AWWWWW I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

[bellfort3]

SBI Fanfics of the Week (week 65)

When it's strange to take a walk downstairs by justsummr

23/43

Phil couldn’t turn away, not when the chances of both of the boys being sent to a bad home was so high. He couldn’t look at this eleven year old boy, the one with the fiery blue eyes, and take him from his brother. How could he look at Wilbur who was sixteen and he did best in history and music and turn him down? He couldn’t send either of them away, let alone separate them.

They weren’t just two kids in the system anymore. They weren’t just names in the pile of thousands. Phil had seen them. He’d seen their faces, the homes they'd been too, the people they were. He’d seen them and he knew so much about them. It wasn't just an idea anymore, these boys were real.

or: phil adopts two brothers, wilbur and tommy. and maybe he bit off more than he could chew

title from Helena Beat by Foster the People

Stay underneath my wing by sircantus

23/?

"Wilby says that- that if a stranger ever tries to grab me, I can bite them." Tommy nods, giving a little glare towards Techno and his bitten hand.

"Okay." Technoblade says slowly. "But don't bite me."

"No, I'm gonna bite you."

SBI Zombie apocalypse AU, in which Tommy is a little kid who's been separated from Wilbur. While Wilbur is on a desperate search for his little brother with Phil, Tommy stumbles across Technoblade, who is the definition of 'no chill' in the zombie apocalypse.

Techno accidentally gains a new little brother.

i can't lose hope (what's left of my heart's still made of gold) by blladnna

18/20

This kid was so small.

That was Phil’s first thought upon opening his front door—that the kid on his front porch was so small. Too small for the warnings heaped upon Phil by the state, warnings of wild magic and dangerous words, of the treachery and trickery that came hand in hand with the legends of the fae. Phil had known many fae over the course of his lifetime, both kind and cruel. The kid on the front porch just looked like a kid.

He just looked scared.

Or: Phil signs up to be a foster parent and ends up just stacking broken kids in his house.

blanket me in snow by Drhair76, plantform

1/1

He straightens, prepared for them to talk about his programs and jumps and achievements. Prepared for them to make him even more of a myth. To put him up higher on the pedestal that he was chained to. "Yes. I am- Tommy the olympic figure skater."

"Tommy the figure skater who tried teaching Schlatt and made him fall on his ass?" Minx asks, eyes widening. "That Tommy?"

Tommy pauses, then- "Um-"

or, slowly, Tommy learns how to be more than just the gold medal winner that he was made to be

[seyenna]

Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

  "Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

  Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

  "Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

  "Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

   ~~

   The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:        

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

   A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

   (Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

   He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

  Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

   He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

  Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

   “You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

   “He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

   “He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

   “Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

   ---

   Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

   Phil has a different plan.

   (In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   manifestation: (n.)

1.     an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2.     a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3.     an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4.     the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

   There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

 ---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

--

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

 ---

(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

[stellocchia]

It's Sunday baby! You guys know what that means!

Ongoing:

Fool's Gold by MollyPollyKinz

Chapters: 2/?

Sort of a magical girl AU that has strong Miraculous Ladybug vibes. Either way, it's a Crimeboys focused AU where they're not related, and we have Awesamdad, so, you know, that's definitely a win

His Deafening Silence by tiredauthor

Chapters: 4/?

Dystopian AU. It starts off with Someone in Manburg's government taking an interest in Tommy's ability. Because of this he is taken from his family and assumed dead. Because of this Phil, Wilbur, and Techno form a rebellion, and, years later, Tubbo is part of it and he meets a peculiar avian hybrid

And In The Darkness, I Say "Fuck!" by Maerit

Chapters: 3/?

Phil, Techno, and Wilbur recently moved to a creepy cabin in the woods. Wilbur is convinced that there's something supernatural going on and he manages to convince his brother to help him get proof of it on tape

I Asked for a Monster and You Gave Me a Fairytale by Anonymous

Chapters: 11/?

Cryptid AU. Tommy has been suffering from hanahaki all his life. Getting adopted by Dream considerably worsened that and he doesn't have too long to live. He decides that he doesn't want to die from suffocation but would much rather get some of the dangerous cryptids in the forest to adopt him. He gets adopted instead

Stay underneath my wing by sircantus

Chapters: 15/?

Zombie apocalypse AU. Tommy and Wilbur are brothers but they got split up. Both find help on their way back to each other. Tommy finds help in a grumpy hermit that has taken a whole town to himself, and Wilbur in a kind-hearted adventurer that can and will shoot you if you're being a d*ck

Completed:

An Eternity To Love You by FractalFiction

Chapters: 1/1

Fluffy crimeboys Vampire AU

live wire by vsendy

Chapters: 11/11

Band AU that focuses on the rivalry between sbi and Dream Team. Also, if you enjoy your good old Techno and Wilbur content this is your fic, they're actually the main focus

The Witch's Tower by SilverWing15

Chapters: 9/9

Tommy is Dream's familiar. Or, well, was, before the man went off the deep end with his obsession for dark magic. Thankfully Wilbur comes along and Tommy has a second shot at being a witch's familiar

on a cliff by the sea by sunphroggy

Chapters: 4/4

There's just. So much going on this one. It's apparently inspired by Ponyo, but I've never watched that, so. Either way, Kristen and Phil were together a long time ago and they had two kids together, Kristen then was forced to go back to her domain to do her work as the Goddess of Death. She adopts a little sun drop that fell from the sky, but she never forgets the rest of her family. In an attempt to make his mother Happy Tommy goes to search for Phil, and things get hectic from there

I don't want familiarity with your mind by plantform

Chapters: 1/1

Honestly, I highly recommend the whole series this work belongs to. They're all great! As for this one: it's set in the Dream smp, Tommy pisses off a witch and gets cursed to reading people's minds. That's a lot less fun than it might sound

[tommyinnit-fic-recs]

Fae AUs

Under These Darkened Trees We Awaited; Then You Came by hydrangea_moobloom [Rated T, 1504 words, complete]

Tommy was warned to never go into the forest.

It was dangerous there. He’d heard the stories as young as he could crawl. Whispers of monsters that could tear through the strongest armor; strange plants and trees that shifted around until you were hopelessly lost; and perhaps worst of all: meeting something not quite human.

In which, Tommy wanders too far and attracts the notice of some Fae.

wildflower by sailingthenightsea [Rated T, 2520 words, complete]

All the stories warn against going into the woods, warn about creatures hiding there. They say there are lilting voices singing from the shadows, promising glittering daydreams with sharp teeth. They say the creatures there will take you far away to never be seen again.

There was a boy, the village whisperers, safely in the circle of light, glancing over their shoulders at the trees beyond it. There was a boy who strayed too far.

They say you can still hear his laughter as it’s carried on a breeze, bright and wild, like youth frozen in amber, like ghosts falling delicate from the branches.

(Strange things happen to boys who linger too long beyond the veil. Magic infects like a disease, like rot, eating away everything human that lingers, until his eyes are an unbroken summer sky blue and there are flowers in his hair and he sings with a voice that haunts the shadows.)

(Here is our story: A boy goes home.)

amethyst and flowers on the table (is it real or a fable?) by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) [Rated T, 19415 words, complete]

The fae was tall. Much taller than Tommy, and probably anyone else in the village for that matter. Hair the color of dark oak spilled over his forehead in tumbling curls. Flecks of gold dotted his cheeks like freckles, sitting underneath a pair of knowing eyes that seemed to flash between shades of earth and honey. His tall frame was draped in the most expensive-looking clothes Tommy had ever seen—flowing fabric in shades of snow and sunlight billowed in the light breeze. And there was so much jewelry. Gold bands decorated his arms, dangling gems decorated his pointed ears, and a shimmering gold circlet rested on his forehead.

Past the beauty though, there was danger. His nails were pointed, his teeth too sharp. When Tommy tried to look him in the eyes, his head grew fuzzy, as if perceiving the fae directly wasn’t something he was supposed to attempt.

He was smiling as he looked over Tommy.

“Are you lost?” He asked in that same lyrical voice.

or, Tommy gets adopted by the fae

Past the yellow flowers by sircantus [Rated T, 9455 words, incomplete, last updated November 2021]

“And your name?” The fae asks, a hand held out, his voice so kind and sweet that Tommy nearly forgets himself, forgets the warnings he’s been given. He says it so simply, with that same smile as before, beautiful, unknown, and dangerous.

Tommy opens his mouth to answer, then shuts it just as quickly.

“Uh.” He responds, like a fool. Now that was close. Too close.

Throughout the Seasons by Poker [Series, Rated G/T, 123,148 words, incomplete, last updated November 2021]

When Tubbo’s friend Tommy is stolen away by the Winter Court, he refuses to let him go without a fight. Armed with his wits and a compass, he agrees to a dangerous wager: gather a charm from each Faerie court and bring them back before the winter solstice.

Everyone expects Tubbo to lose, to disappear into the clutches of another Court. But Tubbo plans to win, and bring his friend home.