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cloudberriess · 6 months ago

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DSMP Fics

(that I recommend)

(I have not actually finished all of these so if you see smth nasty I promise I don't know about it- Though do tell me so I can remove it from the list, thanks :D)

ROYAL AU 🜲

Butterfly Reign: By SilentTeyz

The royal family of Antarctic empire isn’t exactly close. Emperor Philza is always occupied; Tommy hasn’t seen Techno in months, and even if Wilbur is here, their relationship can be described to be strained at best. The royal family doesn’t need to be close, however, it only needs to be balanced, like the pillars holding the country above their heads – as long as they are strong and steady, the Empire will be too. It’s the principle that held Tommy’s back straight and his shoulders broad through the years of hardships and trials of errors; through yet another formal meeting where his father’s gaze would look past him and where his brother’s words would be filled with poison that makes the deepest parts of his soul ache. At that time, Tommy couldn't know that his family would find a replacement for him in the face of a commoner boy named Ranboo. Tommy's family has replaced him. It's only fair that he gets to do the same.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 39/50

https://archiveofourown.org

I was a kid in a village, doing alright, then I became a prince overnight: By sircantus

(Yes the title is from sofia the first, yes I'm laughing at it, I find it funny-) In which Phil has created the Antarctic Empire from the ground up and takes in Techno and Wilbur along the way, and raises them while also ruling his kingdom. Tommy, sixteen, lives with Tubbo in an orphanage, the two of them running around in the cold streets of their town. After a hectic day of getting separated from Tubbo, getting into a few fights, and ending up in an entirely new town, he comes across Phil, and saves him from an assassination attempt by smashing a plate over someone's head. So then both Techno and Wilbur decide to see who this kid is, and Tommy sure is endearing, in the way that the first time they spy on him, he starts a fight in an alleyway over a bag of cookies.

(and then Tommy basically gets kidnapped into the royal family, but like, legally, y’know?)

Status: Finished

Chapters: 28

https://archiveofourown.org

Who the Ever-Loving F*** made me a prince?: By sherashalala

Tommy wakes up in a book he's read once before, now casted as an infant prince named Theseus-- that would have been fine if this infant isn't destined to die at the age of fifteen by the hands of his own royal brother. Tommy as Theseus will not have that. He'll be changing a few things in here. For one, he will not be called Theseus. That's such a gaudy name. Who the hell chose that-? Oh right. The brother who is going to execute him. ---

OR The SBI Who Made Me A Princess AU we all needed. OR OR Tommy gets stuck inside a book and he has to use childish charm to change fate.

Status: Unfinished/Discontinued

Chapters: 27

https://archiveofourown.org

the curious tale of a not so lost runaway prince: By xMultiFandomsx

Tommy is the youngest prince of the Antarctic Empire who's fed up with being ignored by his family so he takes matters into his own hands. He begins to sneak out from the palace into the city nearby in hopes to catch someone's attention. It's there he begins to form a new sort of family. He experiences life like never before: discovering friendship, running from criminals, and (most importantly) eating wonderful foods.

-or- Prince Tommy was sick of his family forgetting about him and tries to get their attention which ends up leading him right into the arms of a whole new one. Will Tommy's royal life get in the way of his new city life? Will the royal family finally notice their youngest prince? There's only one way to find out.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 18

https://archiveofourown.org

TANGLED AU 𖤓

The Golden Phoenix: By emiartse

In his dreams, there had always been a voice. A soft melodic voice that sang their mother's lullaby. A more monotonous, but just as loving voice that promised he'd teach him to fight one day, once he was old enough of course. The doting voice of a mother laughs with a toddler as she gently tries to fix a small crown onto the boy's brow. And then there was the gentle voice of a father, that promised to always keep him safe from those who'd do them harm. And in the morning when the boy would awake, he'd wonder who exactly he needed to be protected from. "Tommy?" A voice called out from the doorway and Tommy grinned gleefully at the sight of his older brother. "Dream!" He yelled, stumbling out of bed and into his arms, hugging the man tight. His brother returned the hug in kind, his hands pressing warmly into the spot on his back where his wings would ignite from for the first time in a few days, fully grown. Surely Dream was all the protection Tommy would ever need in this world, right? A knot of doubt coiled tightly in his chest. -------------------------------------

AKA The DSMP Tangled AU nobody asked for.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 35/37

https://archiveofourown.org

The Ballad of Theseus: By Bumblebeeii

News said the Queen and her unborn child were sick. Rumours said the Kings guard were looking for a magic flower to quell all sickness, a flower that could pull someone back even from the brink of death. To the people of the Antarctic empire and greater lands beyond, the flower was nothing but a legend, forged many millennia ago. The story had quickly became one of myth, and was lost to the ever moving sands of time… —————————————————— When Tommy and Tubbo cross paths, an unforeseen pact is forged. Will their alliance rewrite destiny's design? ——————————————————

AKA a Tangled AU featuring Tommy, SBI, Tubbo, Dream and everyone else.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 15/22

https://archiveofourown.org

healing (in more ways than one): By orphan_account

For his entire life, Tommy dreamed of seeing the floating lights in person. His brother Dream, however, won't even let him leave his cottage, let alone go off into the world. With the help of Tubbo, a thief who breaks into his home while hiding from the kingdom, he just might be able to. Tubbo just wants to sell the lost prince's crown in exchange for a healing potion for Ranboo, who is gravely injured. However, when he meets Tommy, a loud teen with healing abilities, he might not have to. After all, he only needs to take the guy to see the lanterns. Easy, right? Princes Wilbur and Technoblade have been trying to track down Tubbo, but they lost him soon after he stole their missing brother's crown. Tubbo and Ranboo have been stealing from the castle for quite some time, but never anything this valuable. And even though they have yet to catch their criminal frenemies in all the years they've known each other, they're determined to get back the crown. -------

or the dream smp tangled au that literally no one asked for but i decided to write anyway

Status: Finished

Chapters: 21

https://archiveofourown.org

Gleam and Glow: By beepers

Long time ago, an ex-deity found a magical flower that made him younger and stronger if you sang to it. Centuries later, the flower is taken away from him to heal the pregnant Queen of L'Manberg. Luckily, she lives and gives birth to third son of King Philza, Tommy. Unfortuantely, Dream cannot live without his precious flower. He steals the golden-haired prince and hides him away from everyone, so no one can take away his youth again. Years later, a boy called Tubbo accidentally discovers a small house hidden in the mountains as he runs from Technoblade and his hounds. A great life-changing adventure has just began.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 27

Extra: You can only read this if you have an Ao3 account

https://archiveofourown.org

Little Flower: By Canadiantardis

The floating lights only came up the night of his birthday, Tubbo had learned. Hundreds upon hundreds of lights floating up the sky, just within view of the opening of the grotto’s opening. While Father had forbidden him from leaving the grotto, there had been a time, on his seventh birthday where he couldn’t sleep and snuck out to watch the sky, to see the moon, when he had seen the floating lights for the first time. Instantly, he had been entranced, and he had watched until he was close to passing out before he hauled himself back to his room, knowing Father would be furious if he found him by the entrance.

Tangled x Platonic Soulmates AU

Status: Finished

Chapters: 15

https://archiveofourown.org

AVIAN AU 𓅪

Avians (The Gods Have Spoken): By Your_Local_Valentine

Techno blade was nobody special. Really, he wasn’t. He was just some homeless rat in the streets, with no purpose in life. He’d been on his own since before he could remember, being raised by any other homeless person on the streets. He was not anyone important. He wasn’t supposed to be important. Until he woke up one day with wings. - Every god has chosen someone to be their angel. The god of Time, Chaos, even Death. They have all chosen their angel to represent them on earth, to protect the mortal plane. People who already had power in the realm- people of royalty. The only one who has never chosen an angel is the God of Blood. They never have. It was speculated that they were evil- that they hated angels and wanted to kill the gods and everyone else. Until that fateful night.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 8/?

https://archiveofourown.org

I'm Not Tired (Please Let Me Sleep): By Nissified

The blonde sighed and closed his eyes, the familiar ringing starting up in his ears again as he started to count backwards from thirty. At twenty, glass shattered and contorted voices screamed in his ears, leaving him almost deaf. He ignored them to the best abilities. At fifteen, he felt the sensation of someone punching him in the face, the pain almost enough to make him open his eyes again. At eight, something stung on his cheek, followed by the sensation of something dribbling down the skin. Something thick and warm. At three, the screeching became unbearable. At two, something snapped his wrist, the dull pain almost enough to pull him out. Almost. At one, he felt the blade of a knife digging into the skin of his throat, the pain would follow soon after. Zero.

or: Tommy is just some random dude who keeps getting attacked in his dreams by a particular bloodthirsty green Teletubby. Unfortunately, this leads to him not sleeping much and passing out on the Syndicate. They're more than just flabbergasted upon finding out he's got no clue who they are

Status: Finished

Chapters: 21

https://archiveofourown.org

Imprinted: By Euripides406BCE

Prompt by @corpseyreads on Twitter: SBI superhero au- where civilian tommy, with newly grown wings, dares to leave his apartment for the first time since manifesting them He doesn't mean to end up in the midst of a hostage situation with the syndicate

Some SBI supervillain madness with some fun Origins shit thrown in!

Status: Finished

Chapters: 40

Extra: You can only read this if you have an Ao3 account

https://archiveofourown.org

Every Flight (Begins With A Fall): By SilentTeyz

The crows continue to surround him. Maybe they know he isn't a real crow, sense the impostor. Tommy would have laughed if it wasn't for the hundred fucking crows watching him like a walking bag of food. He is about to get ejected. He is about to fucking die.

OR Tommy dies in the prison and respawns in the body of a crow. Phil and Techno are clueless that this angry injured fledgling is actually Tommy.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 11

https://archiveofourown.org

VILLAIN AU ☯

the world forgetting by the world forgot: By bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti)

“Something has been stolen from us,” Thanatos said, his wings puffing up as he spoke. “Something that is very important to us. And we are fairly certain that the person who stole this thing of ours is in this very crowd.” Dream tensed beside Tommy as the crowd broke out into murmurs. Eyes were darting towards the different heroes in the crowd, the benefactors no doubt assuming that the culprit had to be a hero. “Like we said, we haven’t crashed your party to cause trouble. But we want this thing returned to us, and we won’t hesitate to take extreme measures to get what we want.”

or, Tommy was a lot of things: a newly debuted hero sidekick, an amnesiac, and a former kidnapping victim of the Syndicate. Tommy didn't actually remember that last one though. That was just what Dream told him. Only weeks after his hero debut, the Syndicate announces they are searching for something, and Tommy knows it has to be him. The scariest part? If they find him, Tommy will have no clue what to expect, because the Syndicate might know him, but he has no memories of them. So he can't let them find him. No matter what. Of course they end up finding him anyway.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 21

https://archiveofourown.org

tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains: By bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti)

“W-What do you- I mean can I- are you here to rob us?” The person managed to stammer out. Siren snorted. “No. I’m just here to order some food.” “Wh-What about him?” The cashier asked, glancing at Tommy. “Did you- did you kidnap him?” “I mean… yeah, let’s go with that in case this ends up on the news,” Siren shrugged, looking back at Tommy. “I kidnapped you, right?” “Yeah, sure,” Tommy agreed, knowing that if they said he was kidnapped, it would keep people from getting suspicious of why he was seen in public with Siren. “Anyway, can I get the chicken nuggets happy meal, with a coke?”

or, how Tommy—who is not a hero, or a villain, or even a vigilante—saves the life of one of L'Manberg's most feared supervillains, and accidentally ends up becoming the resident doctor for every supervillain in town (and maybe gets a family along the way too).

Status: Finished

Chapters: 26

https://archiveofourown.org

Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain: By SeriouslyCalamitous

“Be my apprentice,” Icarus blurted. Tommy blinked. Gradually, the corners of his mouth dropped into the deepest frown he’d ever made. “What the fuck? Why?” “Why?” Icarus froze and Tommy raised a judgemental eyebrow. “It’s because of your powers.” “My powers,” he echoed. “I never told you whether or not I had powers.” “I can… sense them,” Icarus bullshitted. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. What are they, then,” he retorted. “Uh… super… powers,” the villain answered, sounding more unsure of himself by the second. Tommy wanted to bash his head against a wall. “Really? That’s the best you could do?” ------ Tommy isn’t sure why handing someone their keys is such a big deal, but now he’s left with a huge problem: Every supervillain in the city wants him to be their apprentice!

- or - Tommy’s lame superpower turns out to be a game-changer.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 39/42

https://archiveofourown.org

Tommyinnit’s Guide To Familyfying The Syndicate On Accident: By Six6

He turns to look back and… Is that fire in his apartment? Wait, no - Is that… IS THAT FIRE ON HIS COUCH?!?! Oh, the tragedy. It hurts, it hurts in more ways than one. That couch was Tommy’s whole life, his dreams, his love, his family. And that stupid, motherfucking hero that’s getting beat up in his apartment set it aflame. This is Tommy’s villain arc now. He’s a villain. He’s gonna take down the hero organization and dominate the world. This is his turning point; it’s set. No going back now. Whoever that fucking hero that’s getting beaten up in his apartment deserves what he’s getting right now for what he did to his beloved couch. He deserves worse, actually. Fuck that fiery hero. If he remembers correctly, that fiery hero that’s getting beat up is Hero Flame from the Dream Team, actually. And the one beating him up the way he deserves is… The Blade…? Great. They just broke the floor and fell another story down. The fuckers set the whole apartment aflame, and is that screaming he’s hearing? ~~~~~~~

Or Tommy somehow manages to keep getting himself into very fucked situations and familfys a group of anarchist villians called Syndicate. Did I say familfy? I mean friendify.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 11/?

https://archiveofourown

A Mockingbird In The Crows Nest: By LilBitO_Sunny

“It seems like someone set off multiple bombs at the News Tower. Looks like Pyro’s work- but we can’t be sure. The entire building is on fire, but Soulfire is across the city-” “I’m on it.” He said instantly, cutting her off. “Call Charon and Peleus, too. There might be people trapped on the higher floors and we’ll need to get them out.” Tommy’s excitement screeched to a halt at that. “Get Warden, too. We need someone who can breathe smoke to get in there and help us look.” Erebus continued, but Tommy wasn’t really paying attention. People? What did he mean by people? There weren’t any people in the tower- it was nearly 2 am. Why would there be people at a news station at 2 in the morning?? The Villain League would never intentionally hurt innocent people. Then his ears popped, and he heard the screams. Oh god.. What has he done?

Or: Tommy's a supervillain tasked with going undercover at the Hero's Tower. His job is to gather information, sabotage what he can, get their identities, and get out..But he doesn't expect for people to actually like him. He doesn't expect the enemy to treat him kinder than his own family.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 37

https://archiveofourown.org

run boy, run: By 212rime

Tommy was many things: feared, free, powerful… but he wasn’t proud. He wasn’t proud of the title he had or the name they’d called him, honestly he didn’t think he deserved it. Tommy never had an evil plan, or a secret lair, or any of the cool things villains had. All he had was a shitty apartment and the clothes on his back, and a desire for more. He couldn’t be a civilian, and he certainly wouldn’t be a hero, so he did what he had to do. At fifteen years old, Red Death killed the top heroes in L’Manburg, and Tommy became a villain.

Or: Two years ago, the top heroes of L'Manberg were killed by Red Death. Now, ex-villain Tommy tries to juggle the fallout while also forging new relationships, some of which may be more complicated than they seem.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 23

https://archiveofourown.org

Everything Will Be Okay: By erynestel

So, Tommy was pretty sure he was in a video game. How he came to that conclusion, you might ask? Oh, well, you know, he just went to sleep one night in the bedroom he shared with the two other kids at his latest foster home, clutching Henry to his chest and trying to ignore the snores from the bed across the room – and then woke up somewhere else. In an alley. A fucking dirty alley overflowing with trash, he might add. He was pretty sure he’d even heard rats scattering around somewhere. It also had been winter, the morning air cold and quickly seeping through his thin pyjama. The only other thing he’d had with him were Henry and his blanket, laying on the ground. You know, just your typical Tuesday.

OR Tommy wakes up in a world where the new video game everyone is talking about is *very* real. That includes the three main villains, heads of an organization called ‘The Syndicate’. But it’s totally fine! He just has to make sure he never meets them – he’s got a feeling they won’t be pleased about another crow hybrid in an otherwise hybrid-less world.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 2

Extra: I usually wouldn't add in ones this short but this is like in my top three DSMP fanfics

https://archiveofourown.org

One Man's Trash: By SilverWing15

The kid is glaring down at him and eating a partially moldy apple like he’s daring Wilbur to come fight him for it. “What the fuck?” Wilbur says. The kid takes a huge chunk out of the apple and definitely doesn't chew it enough before he swallows. “You got a fucking problem, asshole?” “I mean...kind of?” Wilbur says. “There’s a child eating literal garbage in front of me so I feel like that’s a bit concerning.” “Shouldn’t you be robbing a bank or getting your ass kicked by superheroes?” “Shouldn’t you be in school?” The kid snarls wordlessly and chucks an empty carton from some chinese place at him. “Fuck off man. Forget this dump.” “What, you know a better one to eat from?” “I know one that doesn’t have a fucking weirdo supervillain in it!” The kid slams the lid of the dumpster down. Rude.

Or: It was only a matter of time before I did a superhero AU

Status: Finished

Chapters: 17

Extra: You can only read this if you have an Ao3 account

https://archiveofourown.org

FANTASY AU ✧

bones in the ocean: By bunflower

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?” —

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 19

https://archiveofourown.org

Only at the Ocean Floor: By Kokichis_Panta

Tommy has never been one to get too close to the surface. He's been above it a few times just for a couple of seconds, but he never saw anything interesting. Though after he started to keep an eye on the surface more, he'd sometimes spot a large shadow trail past him. It would usually drop down ropes weaved together that would pick up fish and bring them back up to the surface. He had to admit that he grew jealous with how easily it picked up a hundred fish and had tried to craft his own out of seaweed. It didn't work. He supposed it wasn't that much of a loss. After all, siren claws were sharper than mermaids, he could hunt better than Niki anyway, he didn't need a fish catching contraption. Though when he told the girl about his discoveries, she quickly forbade him from ever nearing the shadows again, especially the weaved ropes they dropped into the water. Fine. He could just look at them from a distance. Until, he got too curious. So curious that he peaked his head above the water just for a second. It was an interesting sight to say the least. That shadow wasn't exactly just a shadow, and for some reason there were some strange creatures on it. Ones with two flesh sticks for a tail.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 4/?

https://archiveofourown.org

Few Mercies For Fools: By MathanLin

“Bullshit. That’s the dumbest thing you could do.” “And why would that be?” Too many responses to count flashed through Tommy’s mind. This man was going to kill him, there was no denying that. No denying that Tommy had been stupid. That mantra had gotten him through the night, sure, but it wasn’t true, and now he was going to die. In the forest, he didn't know what was coming to kill him. Now, though, he knew it would be this man, with his soft cloak and softer eyes, Tommy wasn’t so afraid. Might as well encourage him to make it quick. “Because I know where you live, you rebel fuck,” he spat. “I know exactly where we are.” ///

Or, the SBI coven adopts a foul-mouthed child soldier with trust issues.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 30

https://archiveofourown.org

MODERN AU ⾕

there's something about the soots: By No_one_you_know

It’s common knowledge that you’re supposed to avoid the Soots. Sure, the father, Phil, is nice, but his three sons are most definitely crazy The oldest- Techno, talks to himself, and there are rumors that he killed someone once. Wilbur is an actual psychopath- he was the one that burnt down the barn all those years ago. And Tommy? He’s just… Weird. Tubbo is new to town, having just moved in with his cousins, Fundy and Niki. He doesn’t know the rules. Which is why he approaches Tommy one day, and his whole world is changed.

Tubbo and the Sleepy Boys Inc. There's kind of a light magic system involved but it's not convoluted i swear

Status: Finished

Chapters: 26

https://archiveofourown.org

Build This Unsteady Bridge: By odymcbea

Wilbur was exhausted. It was raining and his throat hurt and with every step, Tommy was getting heavier in his arms. But he’d already made the kid walk so far today and in all honesty, Wilbur would rather deal with sore arms than a six year old’s tears of exhaustion. Finally, Wilbur stumbled onto the street they tentatively— and illegally— called home. It was lined with identical townhouses, one of which was currently empty. They’d been squatting in it for nearly a month now. It wasn’t the safest place they’d ever slept, but when it came to insulating them from the winter chill, Wilbur would give it five stars on any hotel website. Unfortunately, the window he climbed through was not the one they'd been using these past few weeks. This window belonged to the most terrifying man Wilbur had ever laid eyes on.

Or, while on the run, Wilbur and Tommy accidentally break into the wrong house. Technoblade finds them asleep in his living room. Family ensues. Eventually.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 10

https://archiveofourown.org

Home Is Where Your Heart Is: By arcticjaybird

It’s quiet. Tommy doesn’t like it when it’s quiet.

Tommy was loud. Tommy was combative and hostile and defensive and aggressive. Tommy was destructive. He knows he’s a problem child, constantly getting into trouble and wrecking any semblance of a family he might have left. But he doesn’t stop- he prefers the disgusted looks and constant new faces to the heartbreak that comes with caring. Tommy’s been bounced from home to home for most of his adolescence. This place is supposed to be a new start with people who care, but Tommy can’t bring himself to open up. He knows it’ll only end in pain and bitterness. He has his friends and support system, and he tells himself it’s all he needs. “We’re here.” He was told. “Try not to fuck this one up.”

Status: Finished

Chapters: 18

https://archiveofourown.org

Theater Major: By Annex

Tommy hasn't seen or spoken to his brothers in almost seven years. And it was supposed to stay that way. In fact Tommy wasn't ever supposed to see or speak to his brother until they apologized to him. Or at least that's what he thought. Now in his senior year in the most prestigious school in the country due to a very strange set of circumstances, Tommy is shocked to find his out his brothers are coming home a semester early and are going to be staying at home with him again. With his whole world shaken and his perfectly crafted world crumbled by this news, Tommy figure out how to manage his knew home life with his current school life. Not to mention he's also part of the school theatre program that is much more demanding than anything he's ever done before. Tommy has to make it through his last semester of high school, last show with the school that has done so much for him and now his entire schedule and life has been thrown to the wind by his family. And why are they acting like nothings wrong? ----

Or Tommy's a theater kid who now has to deal with fact that his brothers are disrupting the life he had ever so perfectly created in the massive wake they left behind.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 23

https://archiveofourown.org

If I Lie, Maybe I'll Believe It: By weepingvirtue

At sixteen years old, Tommy knew so many things. He knew that people were predictable and selfish. He knew not to trust, not to take, and not to get comfortable for too long. He knew that the concept of family was as fake as the highlights in his last foster mother's hair. Tommy had known for years that life was painful and had no extra love for some ratty foster kid like him. He knew that it was him and his copy of The Odyssey against the whole world. He knew that he only had to survive long enough to make it to his eighteenth birthday before he could escape. But when Tommy ends up fostered in the Watson household completely by chance, he finds that maybe he never knew anything in the first place. //

or, the one in which Tommy Innit has never really experienced love, family, or belonging, and is suddenly surrounded by it all at once.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 30

https://archiveofourown.org

His Curse of Binding: by orphan_account

Tommy had lived and died as Theseus, Icarus, Orpheus and Sisyphus. But all he wanted to be was free. In which Tommy Soot, originally born in 1509, is cursed to be reborn, to never reach adulthood unless he figured out the Greek myth of his lifetime. He had one rule of not allowing himself to get attached to people but he would have never guessed that a foster family of the creator of Minecraft, an anime stan and a Soundcloud musician would break that rule.

~ SBI Foster AU but with Greek mythology.

Status: Completed

Chapters: 30

https://archiveofourown.org

VIGILANTE TOMMY AU ✩

This is Not an Act of Spite: By ellis (ellabellachicketychella)

Could the universe be kind enough, so that Tommy could get a damn break from the mess that is his life? Please? Just for one day. --- Okay, so maybe coming to the interview with a few broken ribs was a bad idea, but what choice did he have? Just not come and keep on being unemployed? Several bad things could happen during his interview, given the circumstances. There was an AI in the building designed by Vulcan which not only kept unwanted people from getting in, it scanned people for any unauthorized weapons or injuries. There was also the problem with his illegal documents since he wasn't an actual adult. But the biggest risk is that the job is at a hero organization. And he's a vigilante. Which are highly illegal. ---

or, yet another vigilante tommy au... except this time, there is at least one brain cell (you can figure out who has it)

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 45/56

https://archiveofourown.org

TommyInnit's unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death: By eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.” Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen? “Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or, in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or, a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 30

https://archiveofourown.org

No Cause for Concern: By hedgehoggeryyy

So maybe applying for a job at the heroes' base of operations when he could be arrested any moment for being an illegal vigilante wasn't Tommy's smartest move. But he gets to work with his idols — Ghostbur, the Blade, and Philza Minecraft, Angel of Death himself, just to name a few — how could he turn down that opportunity, honestly? And keeping his two identities separate can't be that difficult, really. It'll all be a piece of cake. ---

or, tommyinnit just wanted to pay the rent and save people at the same time. things can't go his way for just once, can they?

Status: Unfinished/Discontinued

Chapters: 35

https://archiveofourown.org

harness your hopes: By thanotaphobia (blue000jay)

“Well,” Phil says, letting go of the blond’s mouth and wiping his hand on his pants with a grimace. “There’s my unethical deed of the day.” “You committed tax fraud this morning.” “I did no such thing.”

(or, the ethically dubious vigilante!tommy fic, where SBI are crimelords and Tommy just wants his best friend back, man.)

Status: Finished

Chapters: 9

https://archiveofourown.org

Into the Night: By Interjection

“Don’t touch me,” Tommy hisses, leaning against the railing. “I will - I will-” They’re a hundred stories up. Wind lashes against Phil’s face. Next to him, Sam makes choked noise. “But why?” Tommy looks up to meet Phil’s eyes, terror struck so deep in those pale blue irises Phil thinks they must hold all the world’s fears within them. “You’ll die,” he whispers. “And then I’ll die. But I’ll come back.” “And I don’t want to come back.” Others have the freedom to live. Tommy doesn’t even have the freedom to die. But maybe they can teach him that living doesn’t have to be so bad. ---

(Superpowers AU where whenever someone touches Tommy, they both die. But Tommy will always come back to life eventually. He just wants it to end - but instead, he’s on the run, terrified of how his power will be exploited if he’s caught. A few people reluctantly team up to save him.)

Status: Finished

Chapters: 8

Extra: You can only read this if you have an Ao3 account

https://archiveofourown.org

Tommyinnit a Vigilante? Never.: By greenpinkroe

Tommyinnit leads one of the worst double lives in history. After his parents death Tommy was quick to take care of himself, and soon his close friend as well. He became a vigilante because he was never able to have the same opportunities considering his financial condition. So as a remedy he gets a grant based internship with a highly respected corporation. The very corporation that helps with any legal work that heroes face, meaning Tommy is surrounded by the people trying to catch him for the better part of most days. His biggest issue now is for them to never find out, and to do the occasional coffee run.

Or, I read a Hero fic with Tommy as a vigilante and fell in love with the idea.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 30

https://archiveofourown.org

Rogue: By milk_tea24

Tommy ran. He ran as fast as he could. He needed to leave. To be safe. And he thought he finally was. He made it out. Away from the monster who raised him. Tommy found friends and got a job. But he screwed everything up like he always does. Now what can he do but what he does best. Go Rogue. ______________________________

Or, Tommy escapes Dream, after being locked away by him for years and becomes a vigilante.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 33

https://archiveofourown.org

OTHER ☻

Stay underneath my wing: By sircantus

"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.

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 33/?

https://archiveofourown.org

mayday, mayday, mayday: By always_an_anxious_mess

“Mayday mayday mayday, this is Ship 268454, CCS Clara, does anyone copy?” After an accident that he isn’t even sure how occurred, Junior Crewmember Tommy Innit is stuck out in the dead zone of space with a dead crew and on a damaged ship. No nearby inhabited planets. No nearby stations. Nothing. He’s billions of kilometers away from any hope of rescue, and has to figure out a way to safety. Not only that, for the first time in his life, he’s completely alone.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 30

https://archiveofourown.org

The Children's Rebellion: By Aria_Cinabun

His name was Tommy Innes, and he was born to touch the stars. Of course, touching the stars was going to have to wait, because he'd lost that dream the moment his parents had died when he was ten years old—the moment he had watched that starship explosion and felt a bit of his heart die with them. He'd lost that dream when he was transported to prison and then to a place called Pogtopia. He'd lost that dream when he watched hundreds of children starve on the streets of Pogtopia. When he and two friends become the lone survivors of the Red Planet's Genocide. When they were rescued, and he was captured again. But maybe—maybe one day, he would regain that dream. Maybe he would hunt down the mass murderer that had executed his friends and gain his revenge—but that day was not now, and now he sat in a prison and stared at the faraway stars. Perhaps there would be people that he could call family again. People he would see again—people whom he had lost years ago. One day. Because he was an Avian, born to be forever alone amongst broken stars. And Avians did not fall unless they wanted to.

or a science fiction fic about rebellion

Status: Finished

Chapters: 58

https://archiveofourown.org

Just One Mistake (is all it will take): By Bluestrasa

Whisper blinked, dumbfounded. “Nix what—” “Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?” She scooped up the body and Whisper finally got a decent look at him. He was young, too young to be passed out alone in a rainy alley. His blonde hair was darkened by water and streaks that must have been blood if his batter face was anything to go by. His skin was pale and his body trembled slightly, even in unconsciousness. Whisper moved side by side with his partner, pulling out first aid supplies and searching for major injuries. “You know this kid?” he asked.

--- or --- What do you get when one of the city's most famous vigilantes is actually a sixteen-year-old with the opposite of flashy powers and severe trust issues? A tragedy in the making, that's what.

Status: Finished

Chapters: 38

https://archiveofourown.org

TommyInnit's Maladjusted Magic School Experience: By MikiIsDying

Tommy was bullied for being a late-bloomer in the magical world he was born in. Tommy dreams of being on the magic battle field, but he lacks magical abilities. Disregarding the fact he lacks all qualifications, he applies to go to the most prestigious magic combat training school in the country. By going there, Tommy hopes to be like the famous witches he idolizes. Tommy waits in excruciating anxiety for his acceptance letter to arrive. -

or The writer has nothing better to do in their free time so why not make a terribly written rendition of mcyts but as witches. -

Basically this story is mainly the Dream SMP characters in a fantasy school setting :) Tommy centric + mainly SBI & BenchTrio moments

Status: Unfinished

Chapters: 45/?

https://archiveofourown.org

The Last Heist: By crystalSkiez

In Manburg there's no mercy for criminals. Getting caught by the guards is an immediate death sentence. Tommy has managed to avoid them for 9 years now--by day, as an arrogant pickpocket with a mouth almost as fast as his hands, and by night as the renowned Underground thief known only as Theseus. Things are going well, all things considered. And then he gets a message from the infamous Antarctic gang and everything goes to shit. Now Tommy has to handle pulling off the heist of his life, all while hiding his true identity from both the tyrannical government and his new associates in the most feared gang in the city.

or I wanted a sci-fi found family AU with the SBI gang

Status: Unfinished/Discontinued

Chapters: 34

https://archiveofourown.org

If you're new to DSMP fanfiction I recommend starting with 'tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains' and 'Butterfly Reign' as those two are big parts of the fandom. If you get into fanfiction, you're bound to hear about those and you might be confused if you haven't read them. Another popular one is called 'passerine' but I personally am too much of a wimp to read it cause it's full of angst and will for sure make me depressed. That one might be the most popular by far though, even I know basically the whole plot and I haven't touched it.

If you have an recs for me I'd be happy to see!

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apricitywinterswrites · 4 days ago

Text

I Didn't Want Trouble, I'm the Boy in the Bubble (But Then Came Trouble) - Feveruary D01

I Didn't Want Trouble, I'm the Boy in the Bubble (But Then Came Trouble)

Chapters: 1/2

Word Count: 1,976

Summary

Tommy winced, a pain slowly spreading across his back as he waited almost anxiously for Dream's arrival. It wasn't usual for Dream to be late. Even less usual for one of Dream's visits to be in the afternoon after near months of it always being first thing in the morning. He wasn't sure how, or why, but he felt like it was going to be a bad visit when he did arrive, which only made Tommy all the more anxious. The knowledge that his 'feelings' were always correct, in some form or another, only made him feel worse, and not with anxiety. He felt sick to his stomach. Even at just the brief reminder of everything he'd predicted as a child, Tommy felt sick to his stomach. He almost felt like crying, but there was always the possibility that Dream could show up while Tommy was crying. Dream never liked it when Tommy cried.

Or, or, the one where Tommy grows wings while in exile and Philza and Technoblade just also happen to be planning and staging a rescue. Neither expected, nor planned, for an appearance of wings... or Tommy latched onto the closest person for comfort. Title from | Boy in the Bubble | by | Alec Benjamin | This fic was inspired by "An intervention from the rulers of the Antarctic Empire" by Sircantus on Ao3!

Day 1 of Feveruary2025 (@feveruary) || "How did you end up like this?"

You can also read | I Didn't Want Trouble, I'm the Boy in the Bubble (But Then Came Trouble) | on Ao3!

Warnings Include: Heavy Hurt/Comfort, One Scene is Graphic for Pain and a tadbit of Injury, Mentioned/Implied Abuse, Mentioned/Implied Child Abuse, Mentioned/Implied Psychological Abuse, Mentioned/Implied Manipulation, Tad bit of Kidnapping, Brief Panic Attack(s)

……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ……… ………

Tommy was fine that morning. He woke up feeling fine, he'd gotten ready for the day feeling fine, he'd even made it through Dream's visit feeling fine. But then he saw a feather laying at the entrance of his tent. A single black feather.

A single black crow feather.

It had felt like there was just a tidal wave of memories rushing through his mind. All the times he'd cooed at crows that always hung around where he lived as a small child. All the small feathers he collected and kept safe. Or the ones that he'd sacrificed after… conversing with them some.

It had reminded him on cold nights when one of his mentors from school would bring him home with them because Tommy wasn't safe at home. It reminded him of dark wings that would wrap around him after a nightmare, something so unpreventable that Tommy was surprised that his mentor's dad would still try. Every time that Tommy was over for the night, Philza had tried to soothe away Tommy's nightmares.

Tommy hadn't seen a crow, or even their feathers, since Philza had joined the server.

Seeing one laying so innocently in front of his tent after so long almost… scared Tommy. He'd definitely felt like a bucket of ice water had been dropped down overtop of him. Afterwards, it had felt like Tommy had just begun to slowly feel worse and worse.

He'd rushed to pick the feather up, holding it so carefully in his hands with wide eyes and a racing heart. He was quick to shove the feather into his inventory, turning and sitting on the sandy beach with his knees pulled up to his chest as he began to cry.

He'd ignored the caw of a crow that sounded so different yet so familiar.

He wasn't sure how, or why, but he felt like it was going to be a bad visit when he did arrive, which only made Tommy all the more anxious. The knowledge that his 'feelings' were always correct, in some form or another, only made him feel worse, and not with anxiety. He felt sick to his stomach.

Even at just the brief reminder of everything he'd predicted as a child, Tommy felt sick to his stomach. He almost felt like crying, but there was always the possibility that Dream could show up while Tommy was crying. Dream never liked it when Tommy cried.

Tommy swallowed as he started pacing, a feeling of restlessness filling him the longer he waited by the Nether Portal that Dream used to visit him most days. He never came by boat. He used to, though. Back during the first month that Tommy had been exiled.

He would use that over Tommy's head all the time, his hands having gotten hurt too many times by the old boat ores and the splinters. The only reason he probably still didn't come by boat was because the ores had snapped and the boat had sprung a leak somewhere that Dream couldn't find to fix.

Tommy sighed, looking up at the sun to see if he could figure out what time of day it was. He'd never been the best at telling the time with the positioning of the sun, that had always been more of Wilbur's thing… He looked away as a feeling of frustration began to rise up in Tommy… Before it was quickly wiped out by a deep seated guilt.

Dream took time out of his day, out of his very busy schedule, to visit Tommy. Those visits could always be stopped, even without warning… Without warning.

Tommy felt a jolt of realization before a wave of pain rushed through him. Both literal pain and the emotional kind that always annoyed his friend. Tommy stumbled away from the Nether Portal, tears welling up in his eyes against all of Tommy's best interests.

During Dream's last visit, Tommy must have done something to upset or annoy Dream enough for him to stop visiting. That's why there was no visit today. The answer seemed so obvious, now that Tommy had remembered some of Dream's hurtful jabs. No, that was a mean thought.

Dream had never meant to be hurtful, and it wasn't fair to think of any of his actions as such. Dream had only been trying to help Tommy. He'd been trying to help Tommy learn and understand. And Tommy had failed.

A quiet sob escaped Tommy as he dropped just outside of his tent. His back felt like it was on fire and it was starting to scare him. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. And Tommy wanted it to stop and it wasn't stopping.

Tommy flinched as something landed next to him. He forced his eyes, which had squeezed shut at some point from his knees touching the ground and then, to open. He turned his head and found that there was a crow staring at him with a look akin to curiosity in its eyes.

Tommy flinched, less than before, as the crow hopped just a tad bit closer.

"Hello," Tommy greeted. His voice was shaky, which wasn't that surprising. It always was when he was hurt, or hurting he supposed. He swallowed as the crow came close enough to bump its head against his cheek. "It's been a long while since one of you has been near." The crow tilted its head curiously.

Another wave of pain washed over Tommy. He yelped, turning his head so that he was looking down at the sand that he was currently kneeling on top of. He could faintly feel the crow bumping its head against Tommy's cheek, crooning softly.

Tommy was panting lightly when the wave of pain ended. He was panting slightly, which he only noticed when the crow trilled lightly. There was a seemingly slow pattern that the crow was mimicking. A mix of trills and chirps that didn't take Tommy barely any time to realize was the crow walking him through a breathing exercise.

He could remember hiding in the forests, crying and panicking because he was hurt and lost. He'd run out there when his father had gotten mad at him and hadn't intended on getting lost. Nothing usually went how Tommy wanted it to. He could also remember how the crows around his home had learned how to communicate with Tommy, at least in a sense. When he was to panicked to listen, they would make patterns.

Patterns that usually followed breathing patterns.

Tommy took a breath in at the start of the next trill, breathing in until it ended and then holding as the crow chirped. The next trill had him releasing the breath. Then the two of them repeated the pattern. Over and over and over again. And then for some more time after that, just to make sure that Tommy wasn't going to start hyperventilating at quick movements from his little friend.

By the time Tommy had calmed down, he'd felt too exhausted to move. Well, too exhausted to move past turned and falling onto his eyes, his eyes opening briefly to stare at the crow who was trilling curiously, trilling in concern.

"Thank you, little friend." Tommy uttered quietly. The pain was, surprisingly, gone. At least, for the most part. Tommy wasn't sure that the pain would ever leave him again but he found that was okay… so long as he was uninjured. Tommy wasn't sure how he would fare if Dream thought he needed to be taught another lesson.

He felt a jolt of hurt at the thought of Dream. He was quick to stop the line of thinking before he worked himself up again.

The tiny crow made a purring sound before taking off into the air. Tommy didn't have the time to feel sadness at his 'little friend' leaving before the crow was back, landing on his chest now that Tommy was mostly on his back. Tommy smiled at the warbles of comfort as the two of them settled.

Prime was Tommy tired, he noted as he yawned suddenly. He hoped that the tiny crow wouldn't mind if Tommy fell asleep. Tommy wasn't going to be able to fight off sleep, even if he tried. And Tommy didn't have the energy to try.

He fell asleep to the soothing warbles and gentle waves.

He woke up screaming as a burning sensation came from his back. His back felt like it was burning, on fire, and like he was being stabbed all at the same time. It was tight, and tense, and Tommy couldn't pull his shirt off fast enough with the fear that his shirt had somehow caught on fire. It didn't.

A sob broke from Tommy's throat, eyes widening in surprise and shock before he was squeezing them shut, another scream coming from him as he twisted onto his stomach. The sand hadn't been the nicest to fall asleep on, and it definitely hadn't helped his back when the pain had come back.

Tommy struggled putting his arms up by his head so that he wasn't getting a mouth full of sand every time he screamed, he had a feeling this was going to be going on for a while and he wanted the reassurance he wasn't going to eat sand.

He didn't know when this was going to end. He wished he did.

A feeling of helplessness washed through Tommy, making him only feel worse as he got a sickening feeling of something in his back moving. He gagged, choking on a sob as he tried to open his eyes so that he could at least see his surroundings. The only thing he knew for certain was that it was dark out.

And the dark meant mobs. Mobs that would want to kill Tommy. Especially while he was down and weak and hurt. Tommy couldn't move though.

He was in too much pain to move.

Tommy sobbed freely into his arm as the pain continued to run through his body. It had spread throughout his body at some point after Tommy had moved onto his stomach.

Another sharp pain, different from the others, ran through his body and Tommy screamed before his teeth bit down into his arm.

He choked on the taste of iron in his mouth but it was like he couldn't get his jaw to listen to him. His teeth were locked in place.

Tommy was sobbing and choking slightly on the little blood that was in his mouth. His back was on fire and Tommy screamed.

"Oh Toms, how did you end up like this?" Tommy groaned lightly, eyes fluttering and looking around him in pain filled confusion. It felt like there was a haze over his mind, like a blanket had wrapped around his senses and was dulling everything. He groaned again as he spotted someone kneeling over him. "Oh Tommy, what happened? What did I miss?"

Tommy noticed that there was a lot of green and black, which initially made him think of Dream, but Dream didn't wear black. Ever. And with how dizzy Tommy felt, he couldn't possibly think of who it was kneeling over him.

"We have to go if we want to get out of here without a fight." Another voice spoke. Tommy looked over, his head lagging behind his command, and found a lot of pink. Tommy groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as arms slipped underneath him in an odd way and lifted him up.

He cried out in pain before everything around him faded out.

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plasma-studios · 1 year ago

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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.

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ao3feed-crimeboys · 2 years ago

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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

#ao3feed #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #crime boys #crimebois #crime bois #mcyt #This is an automated process #If you see any fic that breaks boundaries #or the fic is yours and you don't want it shared send an ask #it will be looked at and removed if need be

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theweirdspacejellyfish · 3 months ago

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Dream smp long fic recs

Dirty crime boys by AdorableAxolotl - 122,353 words and 30 chapters/incompelte

I was a kid in a village, doing alright, then I became a prince overnight by sircantus- 118,445 words and 28 chapters/complete

What makes family by Mysticband - 92,164 words and 27 chapters/complete - dark

A sky underground by fishstixx - 92,460 words and 40 chapters/incompelte

Few mercies for fools by MathanLin - 115,996 words and 30 chapters/complete

Who left this dog here by roboot- 61,118 words and 19 chapters/compelte - dark

The entitlement of trust by orphan_account - 18,805 words and 14 chapters/incomplete

Demon AU by SilverWing15 - 38,206 words and 13 chapters/complete - dark

On temporzing by LuckyMagicBelle - 247,848 words and 47 chapters/incomeplte

Tomorrow is another day by Houxe - 272,065 words and 26 chapters/incomplete - dark

#dream smp fics #I know Wilbur is weird now but I still love this works #love the works not the person their based on #…. I sound like an asshole now #i’m sorry #I’ve been up for like 3 days

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thekittymuffin · 2 years ago

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List of fics I'm currently in love with

I will continue to update this as I find more fics I like! If you see a theme no you don't lol

#muffinfav

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liam-cadmus · 4 years ago

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Itachi stares at the black steel kunai in his palm, the moon shining through the window as he tilts the weapon, the metal glinting. He brings his own black irises back to the mirror, mouth pursed as he ponders if he should do this. A pair of eyes stare back at him, the color dull but so very familiar, the same shade of inky obsidian that his brother also possesses, dark and deep, as expected of Izuna’s line. The slender fingers of his other hand finds the tie holding his ponytail, pulling it off, the strands falling gracefully, his silky hair falling straight, flowing like a curtain. He already did countless hairstyles before; messy bun, complicated braids, half-up half-down, space buns like the girl in the weapons shop, ponytails. The heavy weight on his shoulders and palm ground him to making this position, his other hand fiddling with the current length. It’s fine, right? It’s my hair. He thinks, absentmindedly untangling the knots, not that there’s much of it. Besides, it’s so boring. He’s gotten tired of the repetitive hairstyles, and worrying over his hair getting stuck in branches, only dragging him down in his missions. He’s internally laughing hysterically at himself, because, what the fuck, he’s never been this impulsive. He should be separated from the sharp edge of this kunai, because he’s gonna ruin the hair he meticulously grown, over a decade’s worth of progress. Not really, he’s always trimmed it, but no higher than his ribcage, the length always dropping until the back of his waist. His other hand encircles his whole hair, the not at all blunt edge of the kunai slicing through, strands separating like butter, cold air hitting the exposed skin of his nape. Oh fuck. I did it. Oh kami. He thought it would look bad, but honestly, he likes it, considering he did this with a kunai. He trims some strands, making his hair layered, instead of the short bob cut, the hair just tickling under his ear. He lets his mouth turn up, hand ruffling the hair messier, feeling light and free. He leaves the hair he cut off, organized beside the kunai he used. — Itachi lets his breathing calm, as he tugs on his bangs, the fluffy tuft of hair now present on his head a new but accepted change in his wardrobe, although he worries how the others would react, considering he didn’t even hint or warn them somewhat. He prays to kami that everything will go smooth. —

Fuck that, everything is not going smooth, and thrown out of the window, the moment he stepped in the confines of their dining room. He expected surprise or disappointment, not whatever Shisui is doing, his ears are pulsing because of how loud Shisui is complaining, his movements erratic and panicked and proud and grieving at the loss of his hair. His mother just choked at the sight of it, but reassured that it did look good, and that she wasn’t expecting it at all. His father woke up fully from where he was blinking slowly, staring at him intently, before passing out on folded arms, deeming it fine. Shisui, however, is a different story. He barged in the door, enthusiastic in greeting, before stopping on his tracks, brows drawed in confusion, with a mumble of “Did you have visitors Mikoto-san? And where is Itachi?” Mikoto just sipped at her tea, offering him a tired smile, with no words included. Before he went through five stages of grief, and denying, that no, that isn’t Itachi-kun. He only rolled his eyes at Shisui’s very dramatic complaining, the other Uchiha wiping a stray tear, and murmuring solemnly, “I need to take a seat, or I might faint,” which is an overestimation of his feelings, but what’s Itachi to judge, he only wanted a hair cut, for fuck’s sake. “THAT’S NOT A HAIRCUT, YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE GONE BALD.” “Shut the fuck up Shisui, now hurry, we need to go to Kakashi and Obito, and I need to buy some dango.” for stress, he wants to add, before looking up to a pale faced Shisui, realization dawning on him. “YOU’RE GONNA WALK OUT OF THE DISTRICT WITH THAT HAIR?” Shisui wails, he actually wails, the sound echoing through the main house, heard from miles away, the flocks of crows resting on the lines cawing and flying away. — Kakashi is leaning heavily on Obito, questioning his life when he saw Itachi, while the Uchiha stares blankly at the road, mouthing nonsense as they walk, Shisui hiding his face in his hands as Itachi whistles, civilians and shinobi alike staring at them like they’re corpses. — Sasuke is tired, and the fact that everyone seems to be malfunctioning is not helping whatsoever. He’s standing with no sleep, soldier pills and sheer amounts of spite as he lands in the Hokage Office, dropping his report in front of his uncle, Minato, who’s going through his paperwork mechanically, eyes dazed. He waves his hand in front of the man, only getting a quiet, “You can go home now Sasuke-kun, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He accepts that, shrugging in confusion before jumping out the window, disappearing out of sight. He nurses the cup of coffee in his hand, stifling a yawn as he walks around the market, buying a few mochi for his mother, and dorayaki for his father. He knows Itachi eats dango at least once every two days so he doesn’t bother with that. He continues on, shoulders slouched and exhaustion creeping on him, drowsily pushing his bangs out of the way, before stopping in front of team pyro, Kakashi murmuring to Obito’s ear as Shisui looks around quietly, which is so very uncharacteristic, since he knows they should be clingy. He stares at the man in front of him, looking at the familiar features of his brother, eyes trailing the fluffy hair, making his hair look so soft, but he’s so unfamiliar, that the shock made him freeze in his tracks. He deserves a raise, he murmurs tiredly to his coffee, offering no words of greeting to his team, only standing in the middle of the street with dirt-ridden clothes, flak jacket frayed and the edges of his pants torn. “Sasuke, are you okay?” Kakashi hesitantly questions, which he responds with a confused tilt of his head, only to be answered by Obito. “....you’re crying kid.” Oh, he’s crying. That only seemed to make it worse, as a sob tumbles out of his mouth, making Shisui panicked, his hands fluttering, wanting to help, but he doesn’t know how. Itachi questions his life, wondering if his brother is actually upset by something, or that his hair is so jarring that he brought a fully-grown man, a jōnin to tears, his brother nonetheless. He lets out a noise of worry, stumbling forward to catch his sniffling younger brother, the boy latching on to him with a tight grip, bawling on his shoulder. He can only rub his brother’s back, feeling a thousand eyes boring into him, feeling glares for making his younger brother cry, which he wholeheartedly agrees with because what the fuck, he just made his younger brother cry. — “At least it’s gonna grow.” Shisui comforts himself, before Sasuke intervenes, the youngest already fiddling with Itachi’s hair, “That’s if he doesn’t cut it again.” Shisui’s cry echoes again for the second time, the crows frenzied at the shrill voice. inspired by this fic : The day where Wilbur hid all the scissors in the house by @sircantus if you decide to check it out, it’s a sbi fic, and i really recommend you check all their other content. credits to them!! i just thought of this happening to itachi.

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imorphemi · 3 years ago

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Part 1 -> ?

Would you look at that, is that me attempting to comic again?

Uh yes. I’m very hopeful for this one. I’m trying to not be too ambitious with this but uh anyways it’s gonna be based off of Ring ring ring banana phone by @sircantus (has swearing btw as you can tell). I really liked this fic it was super unsettling and creepy. Very cool. Gave me Tanetane island vibes all the way through. I also thought it was really interesting for the SBI to be in like a different role than they usually would be. Very cool

Wish me luck in completing this lmao I’m hopeful

EDIT: 'screaming ensues' I forgot a crucial word bubble adklfjhadskjfalsdf this has been fixed not sure if it'll show up across reblogs but ANYWAYS

#my art #arts #mcyt #sbi #tommyinnit #rrrbp #rrrbp comic #hehe no lineart go brr #also ranboo has no reason to be there i just needed background characters #he has nothing to do with the fic lol #gosh im dumb lmao #the next few pages are already done with first sketches #and im doing second sketches for i think the third page now #or was it fourth i cant count

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bellfort3 · 3 years ago

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SBI Fanfics of the Week (week 67)

If I Lie (Maybe I'll Believe It) by weepingvirtue

8/?

At sixteen years old, Tommy knew so many things.

He knew that people were predictable and selfish. He knew not to trust, not to take, and not to get comfortable for too long. He knew that the concept of family was as fake as the highlights in his foster mother's hair.

Tommy had known for years that life was painful and had no extra love for some ratty foster kid like him. He knew that it was him and his copy of The Odyssey against the whole world. He knew that he only had to survive long enough to make it to his eighteenth birthday before he could escape.

But when Tommy ends up fostered in the Watson household completely by chance, he finds that maybe he never knew anything in the first place.

or, the one in which Tommy Innit has never really experienced love, family, or belonging, and is suddenly surrounded by it all at once.

grant me a daffodil (here's a white tulip). by sunsetsomewhere

1/1

Technoblade 12/23/2020

good job today theseus

tommy 12/23/2020

oh, techno your words of encouragement are the only thing keeping me going

lets become roommates irl technoblade how about that???

Technoblade 12/23/2020

big day tomorrow kid rest up

tommy 12/23/2020

hello???? techno my QUESTION u dickhead

Looking back on it, Tommy realizes he hadn't considered that Techno wasn't answering the question as a joke. He wasn't answering the question because he was uncomfortable of even seeing Tommy in real life. Of course.

Tommy clicks off of his old messages, embarrassed.

Tommy thinks Techno doesn't want to meet up in-person. He couldn't be more wrong.

how important every friend is that makes you wanna live. By sunsetsomewhere

1/1

"Tommy?" he calls gently. "Are you alright?"

He isn't. He knows that, and he knows Wilbur knows, too. "I just–" He takes a deep breath. "What if the Prozac doesn't fix me?"

Wilbur's eyes furrow, hand coming up to rest his chin on. "What?"

Tommy winces. "What if I stay like this," he gestures vaguely to himself, to his tired eyes, unwashed clothes, and messy apartment, "forever."

Or, a collection of Crimeboys drabbles where Wilbur is a good older brother and Tommy is trying his best.

Stay underneath my wing by sircantus

24/?

"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."

Techno accidentally gains a new little brother.

Getting The Most Extensive Grounding Of Your Life The Day Of The Full Moon Is Not A Good Idea by WistfulWriter

3/?

Tommy Danger Careful Kraken Innit -ok, well, maybe that wasn't his legal name, but he didn't remember his birth family, and there was no way he was going to accept that Simons was the latter half of his legal name. No, no, he was much too cool for that.- had always considered himself to be a careful boy. I mean, he had been in the system since he could remember, and seeing as none of the homes he'd ever been in had discovered his secret, he felt he'd earned the title.

But back to the main point. Tommy Innit considered himself a very careful boy. Considered. Right now, he really. fucking. didn't. Because he fucked it up. So now, here he was, everyone scared fucking shitless, as he pressed himself as hard as he could into the recently shit-ily painted frosted emerald walls -the paint that he could still clearly see in Wilbur's hair no matter how many times he told him there was still more- with his tail tucked between his legs, ears pinned back, and going between whining in fear and discomfort, and growling and snapping at his- his fucking pack for the same fucking reasons.

So to anyone still confused, getting the most extensive grounding of your life the day of the full moon is not a good idea.

making up problems that don't exist by eelsinspace

1/1

Tommy finds himself making his way through the cutlery section when he sees it— horribly yellow with its old person patterns, that, in the distance, makes the mug look made out of wet sand. There’s a mismatch of fonts at the front of it. It reads ‘Don’t talk to me I will cry’.

And— and, Tommy can’t just not take it.

Or, five times Wilbur makes him feel loved and the one time he repays the favour.

A month (or three) in the life of Tom Simons by Drhair76

3/?

"Come over," Wilbur says.

"Brighton nightlife is out on the prowl, Wilbur," Tommy points out. "They're gonna scoop me up and spit me out."

or, this is Tommy's life now - he, for one, adores it.

you were gone for a moment and i missed you by plantform

1/1

Wilbur takes a deep breath. “What time is it.”

“Three.”

“I mean…obviously.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Wilbur’s eyes open to stare blankly at the sheepishly smiling boy. “And it will be a slow and painful death.”

“Hear me out!” Tommy gets over his meekness, and shoves until there’s enough room for him to jump onto the bed and sit next to him. “I had this really weird fucking dream, Wil!”

“Scratch that, I’m going to torture you, and make it long and horrible and then I’ll kill you.”

Or: Tommy keeps showing up at Wilbur's apartment unannounced.(Or, or: they're best friends and they love each other.)

(Or, or: they're best friends and they love each other.)

#Sbi fanfics of the week week 67 #Sbi fanfics of the week #week 67 #bellfort recs #bellfort recs authors #bellfort recs fics #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #mcyt #dreamsmp #techno #sbi #sleepy bois inc #sleepyblr #Sbi fanfics

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mollypollykinz · 11 months ago

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Alright well I love being a prophet /neg

Same policy goes. The characters in my stories are Characters and not their ccs. I will be adding statements to all my fics, but as sircantus so aptly put it, I'm not going to let someone's terrible actions undermine years of effort (and over a million words of fanfic). This has definitely solidified that I'm never writing for the MCYT again, but the fics will stay up.

Believe victims guys.

Okay here's the deal. I have no idea if you're going to get an email saying a bunch of my old good!dream works have been posted or revealed or whatever. I know I've talked about it on the blog a bit before, but I originally had these works hidden because of the allegations against Dream.

HOWEVER, I've been giving it thought for a while now, and if Wilbur Soot were to be accused of being a terrible person tomorrow I would probably still keep all my fics up. With that logic, it feels unfair to keep hiding some of my more popular/beloved works. I'm trusting everyone to be mature readers who don't associate characters with their respective CCs. Think critically, do your own research.

#i dont know what to tag #but i did have to put something out there

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sircantus · 5 months ago

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My little brothers is somewhat mature for his age and he tries to be oh so cool and grown but i sprayed him with a water bottle this morning when he tried to kick me out of the bathroom and he screamed at a pitch only perceivable by dogs so point is; he will always be seven years old to me, silly, small, and trying to make me laugh

#sircantus words

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sbi-fic-recs · 3 years ago

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Stay underneath my wing by sircantus

Official Summary:

"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."

---

Techno accidentally gains a new little brother.

Status: Ongoing, as of December 2021

Word Count: 79k, 19 chapters

Pigeon’s Opinion: i could not stop smiling all of the techno and tommy interactions are absolute gold- they’re so CUTE - wilbur and phil bond and it’s very sweet - i love this fic with my whole soul :D

one thing about this fic tho- it has little to no content warnings, even in the tags, so i’ll do that right now:

It takes place during a zombie apocalypse. there is a lot of fluff in this fic, yes, but there’s also blood, fighting, use of guns, axes, and killing both people and zombies. i would highly recommend this fic, but if it could be potentially triggering for you then please proceed with caution!!

#mod pigeon #multichapter #other au #zombie apocalypse au #fluff #sbi as a family #found family #blood #angst #fluff and angst #sbi fic rec #sbi fic recs #sbi fanfiction

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plasma-studios · 1 year ago

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princes in a pauper grave (ao3: x)

Two Princes, vying for the throne. There's always been a rivalry between them, really; Nightmare with his words and books, and Error with his sword. It should come to no surprise that they've committed to a fight to the death for the crown.

But they are not just Princes. They are brothers too.

OR: Prince!Nightmare and Prince!Error run away, rather than duel each other. Word count: 3.8k

cw/tw: major character death, minor character death, war as a plot device, implied revolution/coup, kingdom setting, mention of stillbirth

Inspired by My sworn enemy, brother mine by sircantus

“I don't want to die.” Nightmare couldn’t say anything after that. Error stared at him. He saw his reflection in his eyes. ----- Prince Error was conceived on an autumn night. It would be one of the colder autumns, with the winter chill beginning long before its season. Yet the news of a Prince-to be brought new warmth and life into the Palace grounds like its own spring. But he was born, and he was strange. Not so strange as to have mysteriously disappeared after birth or apparently passed on in a miscarriage, but strange enough that it was noticed.

He was born with strange, mismatched eyes, but not so strange that it was unheard of. His voice was strange, so nearly unintelligible, but not quite. He did not do well with touch. He was often hostile.

For the mistake of his nature, he was named Error. But his name also served as a reminder that he could be corrected, that he was not a lost cause.

He was not what a good Prince should be. But he was the only Prince, and that was its own blessing for many Kingdoms and Empires had fallen to the simple issue of succession conflict. He was not a good Prince, but he was a decent one, and as the years went on he learnt to channel his aggression into combat.

He excelled at combat. He was better than the sons of Generals.

Then the Queen conceived again. This time it was a long labour, and soon they discovered why: the Queen had bourn twins. Or should’ve, for one of them was still-born. Just one twin remained, and he was named Nightmare for the agony that was his birth and the pain of the tragedy that it was.

This wouldn’t have been an issue had Nightmare not been simply exceptional. As he grew older, it grew apparent. He was— almost, everything a good Prince should be. The opposite of his older brother. He had weaknesses, yes: he couldn’t wield a sword for his life and a shield even less. But he was good with words. He was polite, possibly diplomatic in the right circumstance. He was observant, clever. He would be a good ruler.

But he was not the eldest. Error was older than him by years, not even months, and for as long as he remained alive he would be the one to take the throne once he came of age. Nightmare could challenge him, but he would need to wait years to come of age too, and by then the Kingdom’s decision might well be made and set on Error.

Nightmare was not a fool. If he wanted to be King, he would need public approval too. He had half of it now: the crowds did speak of his wit, his intellect. But they also spoke of his brother’s fight, his strength. Some canary in the crowd sings. Or pleads. Or begs. There will be war soon, they whisper. War is coming. War is coming.

Nightmare knew this, of course. He had watched his father sign the declaration through a crack in the door. It should be a bad thing. It would prioritize Error’s strengths. He knew it to be a bad thing. He could feel it from the sickening squeeze in his stomach and thickening saliva in his throat. He did not know why, however, he snuck out of his room and quietly tiptoed to Error’s. He did not know why he waited there. He did not know why he quietly whispered, “I need to talk to you.”

Silence. That he could understand.

But he did not understand why the door opened a crack, Error’s yellow pupil looking through the gap; “What do you want, Nightmare?” He had always been good with words. So why did they fail him this time? Error’s yellow pupil seemed luminous in the empty hallway. Then, quickly—

“Quiet.” And the door opened just enough for him to enter. Past him, Error’s eyes flickered back to the hallway. It was thankfully still empty, so the door closed without a sound.

Error’s room was dark. Nightmare’s vision took some time to adjust; he was used to the candlelight of which he wrote by at night or even the dim moonlight spilling through the window when his candles burnt out. There was no candle lit in Error’s room.

“What do you want?” The voice was harsh, but it was still a question. Nightmare didn’t know how to answer. What did he want? “There’s a war coming.” It slipped out like water through a crack. “Dad signed on it. It’s coming.” Error looked at his younger brother. There was a pause. “I know.”

Something stuck in Nightmare’s throat. “Oh.”

Then, quite strangely, Nightmare’s eyes moved off to the side. Away from Error. They landed on racks of daggers, stands for swords, armour—

Nightmare, suddenly, felt the threat of danger lodged in his throat blocking his voice from reaching his teeth. Error watched him, silent. “He talked to the Generals before. That’s why I know.” And he looked at him strangely, as if saying how do you know? and Nightmare could say nothing in his defense. Had he thought his dad’s decision to be on a whim? Surely not.

“Error.” “What, Nightmare?” Nightmare didn’t know what.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Then he turned and stepped to the door. Quietly, “Don’t get caught.” The door opened. The I won’t stuck in Nightmare’s throat. Then he was gone.

Error’s gaze was on that door for a long time. Then he looked away and went back to sleep. ----- Error was waiting.

The knock came past midnight, and he had been awake waiting.

He got to the door and opened it. He hadn’t locked it tonight. His brother was on the other side. “Error,” He said softly. “Error.”

“Night.” Error did not beckon him in, but he might as well have.

That was the day the King died. Less than a month after the announcement of war. That would be the last night Error would be sleeping in the furnished rooms of the Palace, for without the King to lead them, the armies needed the next best thing. His son.

Especially one as excellent in warfare as Error.

By the day after tomorrow, Nightmare would have no family left at home. But that night, Error held him, and those arms felt warmer than the hearth. ----- But it could not last. ----- Nightmare’s oldest memory was being held. Maybe it was memories, not memory. In all of them, in it , the haze of delayed realisation, of transition between dinners and luncheons, his head was buried in someone’s chest. Sometimes he would be crying, but not always. The day the Queen died, he had crawled into Error’s bed and wept. That was a long time ago. Long before Error was sent to the borders for the war. Even longer from before he snuck to Error’s room to tell him about the upcoming war. He had been, what? Four years old? Five? Error had been so much older. ----- The days before the King’s death, the brothers had taken to eating meals together. Error had a sweet tooth. Such a sweet tooth. Nightmare wanted to gag everytime he smelled Error’s sweetened, too-sugared tea. Error, in response, said Nightmare was a food masochist. Why insist on spices if you can’t handle them? Perhaps you should start bringing a goblet of milk to each meal.

It was a farce of familial conversation. But it still felt like family.

“I’m sure one of us will be dead by adulthood,” Error had remarked one day over lobster bisque. There was no lie in it. It was a possibility. The same garish, dry humour Error delighted in, his substitute for hostile remarks. Nightmare did not forget. ----- Nightmare filled the role of ruler well. He had not come of age yet, so he was ruling in everything but name. His politeness had indeed developed into diplomacy, though using it against his own advisors would’ve been unseemly if he hadn’t done it well. He was a good Regent, a good to be-ruler, a good Prince. He was incredibly favoured by public approval, and less than half of it was pity for his orphanhood.

It was quietly known that he would be the next King. It was mere days to his turning of age.

In the years of his, much of the public forgot about his brother. When they spoke of the war, it was with hushed cursing and distressed worrying. Of if they would need to ration food soon, of if they needed to worry about their livelihoods. It was not about the Prince-turned-General.

At least, not till Error returned with the war won. ----- Two Princes, both of age, with different claims to the throne. A rivalry long forgotten by the public thrown back into public debate and gossip. The older Prince, heir by birthright, yet strange. Undiplomatic, blunt; strange eyes, strange voice. A good warrior, though; but a King is not a warrior first.

Then the younger Prince. Younger by years, yet more intelligent. Clear voice, good face, and oh so good with words. A good ruler, too, as one could see from his unofficial reign. Yet he wasn’t the oldest, and the sword was his weakness.

(And, some whispered, the older Prince did win the war. Wasn’t that proof of his ability?) After all, they were a weakened Kingdom recovering from war. There was always the chance of the neighbouring Kingdoms taking it as an opportunity and launching war once more. It was possible.

In such a scenario Error was most definitely the better choice. A King could be a warrior, but only a warrior could win wars.

But nonetheless it should’ve been Error crowned once he returned from the front lines. Shouldn’t it? He was older after all.

The Princes had different claims to the throne, but each could only have been made King upon the previous ruler’s decision. Claims equal in legitimacy, because the previous King never declared either one of them heir before his untimely death.

So, what did the rules dictate?

It was a primitive tradition, from primitive times so long ago.

In the event there was no ruler to appoint the heir apparent, they would have to battle it out for the throne. True battle, with blood and weapons and everything that ever came of them.

And at this, how the people talked. It distracted them— focusing on the conflicts of the elite, and perhaps the heat of conflict would distract them from the coldness in their homes; winter was coming.

Both brothers were of age, and a date was set for the battle. ----- Error had forgotten Nightmare’s face, but it was so easy to remember when he saw him again. He hadn’t changed at all.

Error happened to see Nightmare on his second night back. Happened to meet in the hallways, eyes stuck to each other like moths to flame. As if nothing had changed and everything had in those years apart. Because really, hadn’t the change been when Error returned? Nightmare, because he was better with his words, spoke first.

“I don’t want to die.” Nightmare couldn’t say anything after that. Error looked at him. He saw his reflection in his eyes.

Error said nothing and turned to walk away. Nightmare did not follow him. ----- “I don’t want to die.”

Just because Error didn’t want the throne did not mean he wanted to die. Nobody wanted that. Nightmare certainly didn’t, so why handicap himself? Error was not a noble person. Nightmare would make a better King. Error knew it to be true.

But tradition had put a damper on Nightmare’s chances of survival and increased his. Nightmare would not make a good King if he was never crowned, and he could not be crowned if he was already dead.

Tradition, tradition. He silently thought it primitive, to have them fight to the death for a measly reward that should’ve been their birthright anyway. Was the crown worth the blood? The betrayal? There should have been no betrayal. They should’ve never been family. Nothing to betray but the shared blood in their veins that meant nothing now.

He did not want to kill Nightmare, but he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want the throne either.

He would much rather be— forgotten. Be left alone. Be left in peace. But he was born as a Prince.

Error knew if it came to it, he would have to kill Nightmare. ----- They did not continue sharing meals. Nor sharing company. ----- Nightmare began training two weeks before the day. Since the day he got back, Error never picked up a sword. ----- Error missed Nightmare more than he could say. No one else would indulge his dry humour. All the soldiers that got the humour (they were always the good soldiers) had died in the war. The homesickness that should’ve come for him during the war instead came to him now, in the form of lonely dinners. ----- Nightmare did not let Error in when he found him outside his door. The anger-grief-pain had long smoothed out at the edges, so he didn’t say anything. He merely waited. “Do you know how the King died?” Error spoke quietly. The words dug into Nightmare, searching for anything to hook on but they were nothing to him. He still said nothing. “He died of his allergies.” There was a hint of sardonicism in his words. “Nut allergy, if you would believe that.”

Nightmare looked at Error. Something in Error smoothed over. Something in Error broke. Something in Error shifted.

“Can I come in?” If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said his voice sounded hoarse.

Nightmare didn’t know how his dad died. Now that he thought about it, it was really strange. Why had none of his advisors mentioned it to him, if only as a reminder to be cautious? Even if he’d blocked out his father’s death, why would they have allowed it? “Go away.” The words came before he realised they were in his throat.

Error blinked. Then, he smiled slowly. A slow, sad smile. “Nightmare.” “Error,” He said dryly.

Something in Error broke. Something in Error broke. Something in Error broke. “Night,” He said again. Pleadingly, almost. “Let's pretend? Till the sun rises?” “Why haven’t you been training?” The question slipped out before he could clack his teeth shut. “Are you that sure? That confident that you’ll kill me and win?”

Error looked at him strangely. “I don’t want to kill you, Nightmare,” He said honestly. “But you will.” It should’ve been an accusation. It was a truth.

“On the day, yes,” He said— softly? Quietly? Painfully? Regretfully? On the day. There would only ever be one day, and that was that. But it would come to pass soon. There was a terrible joy at that. Perhaps it was not joy at all. ----- Nightmare made mistakes in his training. So many mistakes. Approaching his death felt like a slow death in itself. He trained, still; as if preparing an act. As if preparing for the spectacle that that day would become.

He knew the people, in all their whispers and rumours, were growing unruly. Growing frustrated.

He wondered if it was a coincidence the King died so soon after declaring war. He wondered how many of his advisors he could actually trust. He was not stupid. Undoubtedly the neighbouring kingdoms had a hand in stirring dissent in theirs. Was he really a good ruler? Or was he just a good pawn?

But, in his despondency, he found he could not muster the ability to care. ----- Error did not want to kill Nightmare.

But now, Error did not think he could kill Nightmare.

Not even as Nightmare snuck into his room, quiet but to Error far too loud to go unnoticed. And he has a knife in hand.

“Hello, brother.”

The words stayed in the air for a long, long time. Nightmare did not flinch. He held the knife like it was a flower.

“Error,” He said softly. Quietly. Painfully. “Error, I need to tell you something.”

“Well,” Error said slowly, as if gauging the risk. “Have you come to kill me?”

Nightmare dropped the knife. He stared at it as it fell. He stared at the knife against the floor before dragging his eyes back to his brother.

“No. I need to tell you something. I— It’s okay, if you kill me.” The words came far too easy, slipping through like breath. “I just don’t want to die in the duel. I don’t want to die being watched by, what? Tens? Hundreds? I want to die alone, or if I can’t, die with you.”

Error let out a breath.

“Nightmare."

“It’s the truth,” He retorted. “I want out of this. I want out. I don’t care anymore. This Kingdom is going down and I’m ready to jump ship and drown. Kill me and fake my suicide.”

Error’s fingers tightened into a half-fist, then he let out a soft chuckle. A painful chuckle. An angry chuckle.

“You’re an idiot. Everyone will suspect me. A knife? Why don’t we use the sword I used in the war? Might as well not waste their time,” he spat, the words escaping through clenched teeth. Childhood hostility returning; no, it had never really left. “Error, please.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Error, kill me.”

"Fuck off.”

“Error—”

“For fucks sake, if you’re too scared to fight then run away!” Error hissed. A silence.

“What?” Nightmare was actually bewildered. Error was actually pissed. “For fucks sake, just go! Sure they’ll blame me, but what can they do? If you don’t want to fight, then leave!” Nightmare’s mouth was open. “I can do that?”

“Yes?!”

“But I wouldn’t know where to go. I don’t know anything beyond the walls of this Palace. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t know anyone. And—” His face stiffened. “There’s a coup coming.”

Error stiffened. “What?”

“There’s a coup coming and the King’ll be dead in less than a year anyway. I— I thought you knew.”

Suddenly they were back in Nightmare’s room years and years ago when he’d tried to warn Error of the war.

Suddenly they were brothers again.

“Error.” His voice quivered like he was a child again. “What will we do?”

Error’s biting laughter (oh so bitter) cut through the air. “Either way, we’re fucked.”

“We could run away,” Nightmare murmured. “Or— abdicate?”

“We’ll be killed anyway. The people,” He paused. “ Our people, they are angry. I didn’t think there would be enough people high up to constitute a coup, but our people? They want revenge. If we abdicate the throne, there will always be eyes on us. We’ll still be a threat, just powerless. We’ll die the same way father did.”

Nightmare knew, then. Their father did not die of illness. He had been assassinated. It was a stupid thing. Obvious. Nut allergy that got him in the end? It was so— stupid. “So, Nightmare.” Error had a strange look in his eyes. “What do you want?” Nightmare thought, and thought.

He remembers, then. A long, long, long time ago, they had snuck bites out of their mother’s pastry. It had been a fun game then, seeing how much they could eat without her noticing. The night had ended in feverish heat and bitter medicine.

They had almost died that night, the two of them. It was a bitter night. He had not wanted to remember it, but he remembered all the same now. The pastry had been made with nuts. Just like the birthright of a claim to the throne, they had inherited the deadly allergy from their father. There, his answer. “To be free,” He said, oh so softly. “Even if just for a time before they catch us.”

“Maybe they won’t catch us,” Error said carefully. “If we plan.” He was contradicting his own words from earlier. Yet he was so sure in it.

Nightmare guessed what he was thinking. Perhaps he was right, perhaps not. And yet, he did not care. ----- There would be no duel, because the Princes would go missing the night before.

They would not realise till the morning of. And the brothers would have been long gone. ----- There were stalls along the narrow, winding streets. Nightmare nearly tripped over his feet to make it to one that sold paintings; his gaze was fixed on one in particular, a painting of a yellow bird on a branch of the Hesperides Tree. The vendor noticed him and chuckled. “Can I help you?” Nightmare flinched and looked up. “Uh— um, no, it’s fine. I’m just— looking.” “Took a liking to that one?” He prompted. He was not that much older than Nightmare, really; perhaps the same age as Error, who was cautiously watching a few steps back. “It was one of my favourites to paint, you know. All that fancy imagery, you know?”

“Oh, you— painted this?” Nightmare blinked, surprised.

“Mhm! You can see my name in the corner,” He nudged in its direction. “But in case you can’t make out my handwriting, it says Ink. ”

“Ah, I see it. Fitting name.” Nightmare let out a small laugh. It was so small, yet it felt— real.

Error stepped in and started to pull him away from the stall.

“Ah, goodbye then, friend!” Even as they left, Error did not glance back at Ink. “People are looking, ” He whispered. Nightmare did not have to nod, they both knew it. They both noticed it. The lingering gazes, the whispers, the second glances; they know they were going to be recognised soon. That they didn’t have much time left.

They still had one stall left to patronize, though. They had barely brought any gold with them; just over enough to purchase a few pastries. ----- It’s a local dessert, made of nuts. ----- Nightmare realises he’s crying.

Error holds him to his chest the way he did when they were kids. “Quickly now,” Error whispered, softly, as if he was holding a dead thing. Soon he would be.

What if he’s lying? What if he doesn’t eat it too ? It was the way Nightmare was taught, to suspect everyone and everything, his only family left most of all.

He, however, found that he did not care. Let Error take the throne, then. He was aware, though. Both of them. The next King would die not too long after. The people wanted blood for the blood spilled. An exchange. A justice.

Tomorrow or in many tomorrows, the townsfolk would find two bodies under the bridge, already decaying. If they were lucky, they would be dragged out, or perhaps even carried, to their very own pauper’s grave.

Perhaps that artist, Ink, was it? Would be the one to bury them.

If they were not lucky, they wouldn’t be buried at all and perhaps found by the King’s Guard. But even when the Monarchy fell, even when revolution was brought to the Palace doorstep, there would be nothing that could be done to the two brothers. For they would be long dead.

#utmv #ink sans #error sans #nightmare sans #utmv au #utmv fanfic #utmv fanfiction #prince au #fanfiction #royalty au #kingdom au #mortals au #tragedy #in a way #major character death #character death #prince nightmare sans #prince error sans

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