#sixteenth-day-event

[drmslastmorning]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream breaks Technoblade's trust in prison

A lesson on trust.

Characters: Dream, Technoblade

Words: 5.2k (one-shot)

Warnings: panic attacks, canon typical violence. nothing big.

During Technoblades stay in the prison, Dream gets a little desperate to prove that he is not to be trusted.

Being with Technoblade has lifted Dream’s spirits. It's lifted them a bit much for his taste, honestly. Considering everything the other has done has been quite simple: Exist, take up already sparse food, talk far too much bullshit and annoy the hell out of him. He's not a fan of how easily the piglin hybrid can read him.

Technoblade’s involvement itself is calculated: it's within the plan, it's accounted for. He hasn't accounted for the way he'd make him smile, and distract him from the hell that is the prison.

That shouldn't be a problem in and of itself, Dream measures. He can stay focused regardless.

He doesn't know if the company is within the plan. Of course, Technoblade would've been involved eventually: For the exchange of a favor. But he's been here for a few weeks now. At least, that's what Dream presumes from what little sense of time he's gotten left. He couldn't know for sure and the realization that he couldn't tell leaves his tail swaying nervously. It's somehow easier to sit with your thoughts on your own. Correction: it's easier to ignore them on your own. It's easier to dissociate when someone isn't constantly chatting or snoring your ear off.

Dream doesn't sleep. Technoblade does it far too much. He guesses it's how the other planned on passing the time, and it's not really a bad bet. It's not like there is much else to do. It gives Dream something to do: Study everything there is about Technoblade. Not really intentionally, of course. He's not intending to stare, but could you blame him, when he's the only positive interaction he's had in so long?

The piglin hybrid sleeps messily. Loudly . He eats a lot, and he knows just how to get on his nerves. Though, he guesses he was already well aware of the last two. They've shared a few meals and more arguments.

Dream's passed out only very few times in the time Technoblade has been here, to the point the latter is unsure he's seen it at all. He prefers it that way.

"What are you, anyways?" Rings the question and Dream knows the other didn't miss the way he flinches at the sudden sound. "W-what's that supposed to mean." He says it like a dismissive statement, much less like a question. It's clear he understood exactly what Technoblade means, but doesn't intend to respond unless further clarified. He knows he doesn't pry. "Y'know." Pink hair messily falls over his shoulder. He undid the braid a while ago, and redid it at least 20 times since then.

Dream does know. The pen slips out of his fingers and he curses under his breath as it draws a messy line across the paper, him desperately reaching for it not helping.

"I don't," he lies, "you're distracting me."

Technoblade raises an eyebrow, toys with a potato that he's sure is going to start growing mold within the next 24 hours. "Species-wise, of course." While Dream's gotten a very good look of the other, the piglin hybrid has been kept very.. in the dark, to say the least. Dream makes sure to hide his face, and Techno hasn't attempted to catch a glance whenever he was distracted enough. He'd feel like he's intruding, if he did. Surely there's a reason he always wore that mask, after all. It's rude, he's concluded. "You haven't really let me catch a glance."

"What's it matter to you?" He mumbles, retrieving the pen and annoyedly smudging at the ink that's now splotched all over the paper. Smudging it more isn't really helping, weirdly enough.

"It's something to talk about, Dream." 

"I don't feel like talking."

"I know. You never do. It's kinda your thing." He snorts.

"That's-- that's not true. You know that's not true. I just- You already made me ruin this whole page."

"Put that thing down for 5 minutes, Dream. I'm pretty sure we've got plenty of time for you to finish that."

It looks like he's right, but somehow, sometimes Dream fears, he might blink, and Technoblade might disappear into thin air. 

"Fine." Dream hisses through gritted teeth, closing the book to set it aside. He leaves the pen amidst the pages to keep note of where he was. "Your tail reminds me of Ranboo’s." Techno remarks, and as if on command, it whips against cold obsidian and then curls up to hide behind his back. "What- are you just going to- analyze things about me?"

"Well, you're not telling me."

"That's still, like, weird." Dream argues, shaking his head. Something about it makes him really uncomfortable. Something about it is something he didn't account for and it makes him nervous.

"Man, you've been eyeing me up and down the entire time and I can't even catch a quick glance." He snickers at the immediate physical rise he gets out of Dream. 

" WHAT?? " Oh, that blush is obvious. "I've- You're an idiot, I've literally-" Dream stumbles over his words, messy locks not disguising enough of his face to hide his expression. 

"You're- You're stupid. You're just- you're just saying things. That's not even true!" 

"I don't know bro, for an innocent man you're getting real defensive."

"I'm not-- That's not-- I literally have not been doing that." Defeatedly, Dream taps his foot against the obsidian, knees dragged to his chest.

"Uh-huh." Technoblade nods, beginning to redo his braid for the third time that day. 

"Fuck yourself, seriously, Techno. I don't even know where- where you got that from."

"Maybe from the guy who's been eyeing me up and down."

" I HAVE NOT??? " (Dream’s heart beats in his ears and it tastes bitter and it's uncalculated and it makes no sense and he has to remind himself to breathe.) And it beats. And it beats. And it beats.

"So, what are you?"

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?" Dream responds, annoyed. "I'm curious and bored." Technoblade answers, too honestly. Too honestly for Dream’s taste. Dream hasn't planned for this. Dream doesn't like the way he sees through him. "The answer- the answer is going to disappoint you, then." He gnaws on his lip for a moment. "Because I don't- I don't actually know ."

Techno raises an eyebrow curiously. He snorts. "You seriously don't, huh?"

"Yeah- uh- why the hell- why would I lie about that?"

"Uh, I mean, you've got the same tail as Ranboo." Techno deduces. "And he's an Enderman. I think?" He shakes his head. "But you're also not really letting me see anything else."

"You're being weird." Dream pushes, hiding his face in his knees.

"Not any weirder than you."

"Can I see your face?" Techno asks, and is surprised by his own question.

"What???" Dream returns, almost instinctively letting more hair fall into his face. 

"Your face." He presses, shifting with his coat. "I wanna see your face. It's been so long since I last did."

"Why?"

"Curiosity." Technoblade shrugs, feigning disinterest. Maybe he's just curious. Maybe there's more to it. Dream hates the way he can't tell and he hates the way it makes his heart beat and he hates the way he squirms uncomfortably and he hates the way the proposed intimacy makes him feel and he hates it.

Dream catches his heart in his throat and chokes it with both of his hands.

"No." He responds, met by a dejected, "awwwh", from the piglin hybrid. "Just a quick glance."

"No." He repeats, with more tone in his voice.

"Just a quick one."

"I said no." Dream cringes, crossing his arms. "It's not like I've never seen it before." Techno shrugs.

"Be satisfied with that, then."

"What's the big deal?"

"We're not friends, Techno." His tone of voice seems insincere, but he wants it to be true. They aren't friends. This is purely transactional. Technoblade is here to rescue him on account of a favor. Something is going wrong with whatever he's got planned and now he's trapped here for the time being. It doesn't mean anything. 

"Ow." Technoblade shuffles, moves as if something stabbed him. It's dramatics, Dream reminds himself. He's being dramatic. "First off, that hurts." It doesn't, Dream reminds himself. It's theatrics. It's to pass the time, it's to make him feel secure, it's to fool him, it's to- he doesn't know. Make him forget the plan?

"Second off, it's rude. I thought we've been having a real bonding moment here." Technoblade doesn't mean that, Dream reminds himself. "Well- boohoo." He fiddles with his fingers, with the book in his hands. "We're not friends." He has to emphasize that. (lest he forgets. lest he forgets that that too, is part of the plan.)

"I thought we were." Techno reiterates. "I mean, you've been watching me sleep. Would be real weird if we weren't friends."

"Oh my God, Technoblade. I have not-" He cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. He gives up. It's obvious he's just trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't understand the point. It's distracting. It's going off the plan. It defies everything Dream did this for. He feels dizzy.

"C'mon Dream, I know you're still grumpy I keep calling you homeless, but I'd say we're friends."

"I'm not- I'm not homeless." (you're the one who kept not believing me I've got a big house filled with Redstone.) The thought makes him laugh bitterly.

Techno raises an eyebrow at the clear silent conversation Dream just had in his head. Some voices tell him something, but they sound drowned. The lack of food is beginning to mess with him bad, Techno eats a lot normally, so while he's not opposed to the potato diet itself, he's really been trying to cut down. If not only to not take away the little food Dream has.

Techno really doesn't like the way Sam clearly doesn't mind feeding him as much - considering he literally even gave him cooked potatoes when he asked for it. (it's all to starve Dream.)

"I know, I know. We're roommates right now, remember?" He snorts, which leads into an amused grunt, then translates into him holding out a baked potato in Dreams direction. "You want some?"

"... What."

"It's baked. Should be better than uh, y’know, the ones you've been chowing down." He gestures at Dream’s stack, which is honestly beginning to show mold.

"Why- how is it- where did you-" Dream stumbles and he looks so extremely bewildered Techno can't help but sneak a little fond smile. (Dream doesn't recognize it as such. His gasping heart categorizes it as him making fun of him.)

"I asked and Sam gave them to me. Under the condition I don't give you any."

Dream frowns. Deeply. He shakes his head. "Under the condition you don't give me any." He repeats, in a tone that makes Techno sick. Wipes the smile off his face and replaces it with a frown. "Hey man, it's not like Sam's gonna know."

"He'll know ." Dream reiterates, shaking his head. He feels sick. Sick. Sick. Resisting everything in himself to not knock it out of Techno’s hand.

"I mean, I'm not telling him. Are you?"

"If- if he asks , if I-if." He stutters over his words, he despises the frown on Techno’s lips. He's not disobeying Sam for some stupid- some potatoes. He could handle himself. The clear favoritism gets to his head, and he needs to turn away so he doesn't just grab the potato and throw it into the lava. Or better yet, he's throwing himself in it next.

Techno sighs. "Alright, man. Just thought I'd offer." He rolls his shoulders, then wordlessly eats it. He's honestly worried Dream might just starve to death one of these days. He certainly doesn't look good.

Dream’s heart beats in his ears. He wishes he could bang his head against the wall until he made a big enough hole for it to escape. Wishes he could reach through his own mouth and pull it up by its bits and pieces and squeeze it until there is finally no feeling left.

In the end he does none of that. In the end he frowns at Techno and doesn't say anything else. In the end he reaches his hands into his hair and tugs until he feels a few strands coming loose. 

"You're- driving me crazy." He hisses. And it's unreasonable. And it's a weird mood swing from the Dream who was just confused then horrified and is now- maybe jealous isn't the right word, but he doesn't find any better ones to describe what he is feeling. Speaking of feeling, he hates the way his heart jumps in his mouth when Techno looks at him with that stupid snort. That stupid big nose ring, and those stupid big ears, and those stupid big tusks that hang upwards out of his mouth and-

Breathe. Breathe. "Man, I'm just being friendly." Techno says and it snaps a cord. "You're not! Friendly. You're A- annoying , you're, you're taking up already sparse food, you're, you're clearly being favorited by- mi- by the wa- by Sam -" He tugs and he tugs and he tugs and maybe this way he can get rid of this stupid long hair. "All this has achieved is- you're just stuck here now, too . Why the hell didn't you realize it was a trap? I didn't want you to get involved! You have- you- aaaaah!" He groans, frustrated, tired, exhausted, hungry, and for the first time in the while he's been stuck here he seriously wishes he had died already.

It's stupid. It's such a stupid thing to want to give up over. (was any of it even worth it? was any of it even worth it? was any of it even worth it? was any of it even worth it.) He thinks he hears Techno say something but it's dampened by the dread that's surrounding him. Maybe he's having a panic attack. Maybe he's having two. Maybe three. four five six seven eight-- he's been doing so well holding himself together but now he's crashing he's falling apart he's grasping at the pieces of a knocked over 3D puzzle and it does little to put it back together.

He's been doing so well smiling and talking with Technoblade whenever Quackity wasn't here he's been doing so well and he's been doing too well and it's exactly why he's tripping all over himself and falling and falling and falling --

It's a harrowing realization. That scaling any mountain is going to involve so much tripping and falling in the future. And it's more harrowing to him that he's decided to do it all alone. It's better that way, he tells himself, but for a moment, Dream would rather be dead than alone.

Maybe, if he gave up, while Technoblade, while Quackity- while it's- while he's not- while- while there's someone there- while he's not alone- while- if he gave up now, at least someone would be by his side while he did-

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. In, and out, and Dream hears a voice, guiding him, and he's breathing.

Breathe. Breathe. He closes his eyes. It's dark, and it's orange from the light of the lava and he's just barely catching himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, he can breathe again. He sees pink strands and his first instinct is to--

He reaches out and tugs on Technoblade’s already messy enough braid. "Ow! Is that the thanks I get????? Ow- ow- Dream that hurts-" And he tugs and he tugs and he tugs and it's enough Technoblade has to stop awkwardly hovering his big hands around Dream's and instead grab onto them, halting the other’s out-of-nowhere violence. " Good ." Dream hisses, and it's venomous, it's almost- uncharacteristic. Techno pulls his eyebrows together and frowns. "You good? You had a little- panic attack there. And now you're attacking me! Scandalous."

Momentarily, Dream is taken aback by the piglin hybrid’s antics. Only momentarily, because as soon as he manages to wipe the way his expression cringes at his own actions off his face, he's back to pulling his hands out of Technoblade’s, taking one, two, three, too many steps towards the lava and almost falling backwards into it. He stumbles, and has to catch himself on the side of the wall. The lava is sizzling so closely behind him he's unsure if some of his hair, or his clothes might already be catching fire. He nudges just a little bit away from it, although he really wishes he could just let himself fall backwards. 

He could, he reckons. No better time than now. No better time than when he's not alone with Sam and Quackity with the warden and sir with the violence and torture and-

His head spins. Technoblade says something again but hovers awkwardly out of his reach. Good. Good. This is better. That's how it's supposed to be. Transactional. As soon as they're out of here Technoblade will abandon him. That's how this was intended. He'll make himself heavy enough of a burden that even Techno will hesitate to dare put that strain on his back. That hesitation will be enough, he hopes. He is sure it will be enough. He closes his eyes, breathing. He should breathe, Technoblade is right. He opens his eyes again and his eyes search for Technoblade, who's looking at him with such a stupid expression of pity (and concern and worry and so many things Dream isn't sure he's identifying right and so many things that Dream hopes he is wrong about.).

Dream prays he is wrong about these things. Because God strike him down if he is right. God if he has to face that possibility.

He isn't sure how much time passes. He isn't sure how long they're just staring at each other. 

--

"You better now?", Technoblade says after a long silence, attempting to approach him. Very slowly. As if he's afraid Dream might just stumble backwards into the lava if he startles him like a scared deer. Bitterly, Dream laughs. "Yeah", he catches himself, "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. You have the strength of a toddler."

" WHAT??? " That gets to Dream’s head worse than Technoblade probably intends it to, when Dream stumbles over himself and almost catches fire on the lava. Techno snorts, lifting a hand to move it in a manner that's supposed to make him calm down but is only irritating him more. "You're- you're fucking insufferable, Technoblade ." Dream draws a breath through barely parted lips and for a moment he wants to cry. 

The piglin sighs. "You know, I've been really patient, but you're making me curious. What happened? Since when are you so-- dead set on pushing everyone away? I mean, I heard Punz betrayed you, which must've sucked- but, Dream, I clearly don't mean you any ha-"

"Fuck off, Technoblade."

"Eh?"

"Fuck off." He reiterates, and he is so, so close to ending it all he needs to remind himself that part of the plan is that he stays alive. Part of the plan is that his heart keeps beating. Maybe he can respawn at least though. It's bitter. He threw himself in that lava a lot when there was nothing to do and the pain of burning alive was, funnily enough, the only thing keeping him sane. "We're not friends. We're not roomies. We're not- You weren't supposed to be here. You're so fucking- stupid- walking into that obvious trap."

Technoblade's vision swims, before it refocuses on Dream and he raises an eyebrow. "Dream- You do know I knew that, right?"

"Right. Right. And that's why you haven't gotten out. That's why you're still stuck here with me annoying me and trying to get under my skin all the goddamn time-"

"Well, I mean, some things went wrong. I'll be out here in no time, though."

(I, I, I, I, I)

I, I, I, I, I

It echoes in Dream’s head. He stares. " We ?" He whispers, it's hopeful, it's meek, and it's such a sudden change from the way he was just yelling.

"Uh, yeah. We. You're getting out of here, Dream."

They exchange looks. Stares. He's too busy reading every pore on Technoblade’s face to be distracted by the fact that he's doing the same to him. He stares at Technoblade’s pink eyes as if they have the answer to every question he's ever had. He hears his heart beat again and has such a visceral reaction to it; he bites down on his lip, balling his fists.

"I don't believe that. I don't trust you for a second."

The piglin hybrid sighs, toying with his coat to his braid, undoing it, since Dream messed it up anyways. "Right. I'm really beginning to believe that." 

Dream thinks he hears sarcasm in that tone but he's not sure. He's not sure of any emotion he reads on Technoblade and it horrifies him. Quackity is so much easier to read: and Sam isn't too difficult to read too, he'd say. They're pretty similar, he'd concluded a while ago. 

Quackity wears his heart on his sleeve. Observing him is like you're reading a picture book. Whereas with Technoblade he isn't quite sure he's got a heart in the first place. He isn't sure what he thinks of that conclusion. He isn't sure it's logical. Maybe it makes no sense to interpret it that way, he can't justify dehumanizing Technoblade to himself, but neither can he the way he got addicted to burning in the lava.

"What exactly am I supposed to do to make you-- ' trust ' me?" The Blade speaks up and Dream continues watching him for another roughly 20 seconds, not breaking eye contact. He's finally noticed that he's also eyeing him over and it makes something akin to horror crawl down his back. It settles on his spine and whispers to him. He can't make out exactly what it's saying but he knows it's gripping at the edges of his heart. It's digging its nails in and the only reason it's yet to bleed is that they are still in. Like a stab wound, it'll bleed so much more once removed. But it's bleeding either way.

Either way leads to death.

"Want me to prove I trust you? Do a little trust-fall?"

Dream’s face cringes at the way Technoblade snorts. "I- what - no way- I don't trust you and even if you trusted me, there's no way I can- catch you- in my current state."

"I'm going to be honest, Dream, I don't think you would've been very capable of it previously, either."

"You're----- You're really trying to make me hate you." Dream mumbles, kicking the floor, in a similar fashion as to he would before, and Technoblade takes it as a positive sign. He smiles fondly and it irritates Dream to no end.

The piglin hybrid shrugs. "Eh, sure. I'm not sure I can convince you otherwise, anyways." 

Something stings but Dream can't identify it. Briefly, he wonders if the other feels something like that, too. Then he crosses that thought out, because he knows that the Blade doesn't own a heart that feels. 

His brain rationalizes the dehumanization in a desperate attempt to drown his own feelings. It's not rational and he knows this, but he's horrified that if he looks at Technoblade like he's a person for too long he might forget the plan.

He wants to choke himself out for going down this path alone. But it's the only way to keep them safe. (dehumanizing Technoblade isn't keeping him safe. it's the very thing that's ended him up in this position. the very reason he can't just sit in his cabin and rest. The very reason he's right here and associated with Dream is because they're the same, the same, the same .) 

Dream can't read Technoblade. But maybe he just doesn't want to. Maybe the other is written in a foreign language that Dream couldn't possibly have knowledge of in his young and naive years.

The admin sighs tiredly. 

"You can't. I don't trust you and it's not like you truly trust me either." Dream huffs a laugh. "You trust me to keep you alive. For my own gain." He gestures at the lava, then at Technoblade. "Since I'm not going anywhere without you. But maybe you will just leave without me."

Techno frowns. Even to Dream it's obvious this conversation is getting tiring. Maybe he's beginning to regret getting under his skin, maybe he's regretting constantly running his mouth, maybe he's considering just going to sleep for the rest of his stay here. Dream doesn't know because maybe after all this time, he's finally forgotten how to read. He isn't even sure he can read himself anymore. 

"I mean, yeah, maybe I will. You're not really making it enticing to take you along." Techno exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I'd say you should know I wouldn't actually do any of that, but maybe I misread you."

None of that sounds like anything Technoblade would say. Good, Dream thinks, he's listening. He's not completely dense. He's not completely naive. Of course, the plan is still for the other to take him along. "W-well, you've got a favor to pay back. Technoblade pays back favors."

"Uh-huh."

"And that's all this is."

"Right."

Dream can't decode the bitter way Techno nods. He doesn't understand the way his throat slowly closes up and he feels like he's choking. He concludes it's been plugged by his heart again and he hates the very way the Blade puts even his organs in a disarray. It's irregular. Makes no sense.

"R-right." He repeats Technoblade’s word, glancing away. 

"Hey, you let me see your face."

"No I didn't."

"You did." 

"I didn't fucking allow you to." Dream crosses his arms, frowns. Techno shrugs, looking at Dream again. The other doesn't look away. "Yeah, but you're still letting me look."

It's not fair. It's not. It's not fair. He can't even rebuke that one. He's tired.

"You've got a lot of freckles." Techno muses, with such a stupid, stupid fond smile. (this isn't part of the plan. Isn't part of the plan.) "Your cheeks are- fuzzy." He snorts and Dream wants to deck him in the face. ( shut up. Shut up. Shut up .) "And your eyes rat you out."

Don't get him involved. Don't get him involved. Stick to the plan. Don't do that to him. Stick to the plan.

It's not worth it. If he changes the plan now- he can't. The plan has to be the way it is. Punz is bad enough. This is bad enough. Dream suddenly feels so powerless that it's crushing.

"And what stupid things do you think they're saying?"

"I don't know." Techno shrugs now, taking a step towards Dream. Cautiously, as if he fears he might startle him and send him into the lava. "Maybe they're desperate." He guesses, stops just out of Dream’s reach. Dream bites his lip bloody.

"Yeah. Desperate to get you to shut up. Get things under control and get us out of here." He grumbles, fists balling. (for a moment, he imagines himself reaching his hand into the lava, cupping it, and then throwing it at Technoblade. He wonders if his hand would last enough for that, or if the lava would burn through quicker. He wonders if that could kill him.)

He wonders how much of it would hit Techno, or if he'd dodge. If he'd call him insane, or if he'd be worried. If he'd be worried for his own safety, or Dream's, or both.

"I'm at it! I'm at it. Someone's really impatient." Techno lifts his hands defensively. "You're the one who designed this thing so- inescapable." Dream licks the blood off his lips, tail flicking behind him. "It'd kind of defeat the purpose if it wasn't." 

The piglin hybrid only nods. Dream only returns a nod. They're silent, observing each other as if they are reading a book.

Dream decides he needs to rip his pages out of Techno’s book. He takes a deep breath, looks directly at the other’s face. 

"Come over here." He croaks out, embarrassed, clears his throat after. "Come here." He repeats, clearer now.

For a moment, Dream hoped he'd see hesitation in Technos gaze. He sees something, Techno does need a second to listen, but he doesn't see hesitation. He doesn't know what he's seeing. (Worry? Care? Concern?) Concern, for his own or Dream’s or both of their safety.

Technoblade listens and everything in Dream’s body was hoping he wouldn't. He'd hoped he wouldn't. But now he's standing in front of him, left of him lava bubbles. It's hot and unbearable to him, but Dream knows it's like second nature to the piglin hybrid. 

"Do you trust me?" Dream asks, it's flat. The croak in his voice disappeared, it's just cold now. He can't read the expression on Technoblade’s face. He doesn't like the way he frowns. He doesn't like the way he has to break his neck to look him in the face when they are so close together. 

"What's this?"

"No, shut up, answer the question." Dream shakes his head when Techno tries to gain knowledge on his intent. That won't work. That won't work. He made a plan and he's sticking by it.

Techno sighs. Rolls his shoulders. Then nods. Smiles. "Yeah, well, I do."

(I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do. It repeats in Dream’s ears until it turns to venom until it takes over every part of his brain until he can't hear anything else until it tastes bitter and bile and he wishes he could throw up.)

Everything in Dream hoped he'd say no. Everything in Dream hoped he'd say no.

He doesn't breathe for a good minute. Then he holds out his hand. His hand, small, burned, injured. There's little cuts and scars everywhere. He still has all of his fingers, but he is afraid he won't soon enough. "Okay. If you take my hand and close your eyes, do you trust me to not hurt you?" He continues, and his heart deflates when Technoblade listens. He hoped he wouldn't.

He hoped he'd make a snarky comment and refuse. But he doesn't even give him a snarky comment. The piglin hybrid's hand almost completely engulfs his own and Dream feels so small and helpless and weak, all of a sudden. It's like Technoblade is unknowingly pulling the carpet out from under his feet. It's like the obsidian beneath him disappeared. (The hand-holding is weirdly comforting and suddenly Dream wants to abandon everything he thought of, everything he planned. if he could just fall forward and-)

He grips Technoblade’s hand. Harsh. He's not sure where he draws the strength from, considering he hasn't even eaten one potato today. And he isn't even sure he ate one yesterday. He squeezes it, and for a moment, it may come across comforting, or comfortable, or-

Then he violently tugs on the other’s hand. Then he draws both of them towards the lava. Then, suddenly, both of their hands are touching lava. (Dream's barely is. Technoblade’s hand engulfs his almost completely, but he's probably more fire resistant than he is. He braces himself, grits his teeth, burn, burn, burn, burn, everything in himself is screaming to take it all back, to reverse time, to-)

"Let this be a lesson not to, in the future."

[the-final-sif]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream and Ponk discuss their experiences with Sam

@sixteenth-day-event "What happened to your arm?"

The question came out of nowhere. It was an impulse. A stupid one. Dream wasn't really expecting a response.

Surprisingly, Ponk's eyes blinked open. They weren't red anymore (thank god), but they were fuzzy and unfocused still. Several seconds ticked by before Ponk managed to rasp out a response.

"Sam."

It was just one word, but it was the most that Dream had gotten out of him so far. He would dismiss it as a quirk of timing, but from Punz's recounting, talking about shit had helped ground him and pull him back from the Egg. Alright. So Dream just needed to keep this going.

"Weren't you two dating?" He could swear he remembered that. Ponk huffed a dry laugh.

"Were. Broke up af'er he cut m' fuckin' arm 'ff."

"That uh- makes sense." Great. A+ conversation. God fucking dammit. Okay, refocus here.

"Was there like, a reason? Or did he just get bored?" That sounded harsher than he meant for it to, but too late now.

Ponk's gaze went hazy for a moment, too far maybe? Before he managed to shake his head, bringing himself back down.

"Stole the prison keys. Wasn't eve' tryin' to do much. He'd been ignorin' me. Thought it was funny. Thought I might go visit you or somethin'. He freaked out. Never thought- Never thought he'd do something like this." As he finished speaking, Ponk managed to lift his good hand just barely and gesture at his stump.

Ah. Dream wasn't sure how he felt about that. Was it better? That it hadn't been just him. Who thought Sam could be trusted and was wrong? Or was it worse? That it all came back to Dream himself in the end. Something corrupting, corroding, ruining everything he came into contact with?

A question for another time maybe.

"That sucks." Okay, he winced at that one. "Sorry- uh, I didn't. I didn't think he'd do something like that either. Before."

It said a little more than he wanted to say. Ponk, of course, had recovered enough to catch on. Eyes now focusing in on him. Taking him in and judging. Dream clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the weight of an old friend's gaze. Tried to change the subject.

"You feel up for some water?"

Thankfully, Ponk let the topic drop in favor of nodding. Probably parched by now. Dream pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the spill proof bottle that Punz had left. They were ready for this.

He held it out carefully, trying his best to control the shaking in his own hands. From how Ponk's eyes narrowed, he didn't quite manage it.

The light in here was soft, and Dream had been hoping that would hide his scarred hands. Not from Ponk's eyes though, as the other carefully took the water bottle, drinking from it in long gulps.

By the time it was finished, Dream had returned to his spot on the far side of the room, right by the door so he could get out if he needed to. Not that he would need to. Ponk wasn't infected anymore, the guy could hardly lift a bottle.

The silence stretched out between them, until finally, Ponk spoke again, eyes watching Dream's hands far too closely.

"Is it fucked up if I'm glad it wasn't just me? That he- It was him. I mean, I knew he was the one that fucked up. He cut my fucking arm off over some fucking keycards. But- I mean- He kept trying to act like it wasn't a big deal. Like I should just ignore what he did to me. Like it was all my fault. I didn't buy it- but- I mean- God, I'm not sure what I mean."

Something inside Dream wanted to break. Wanted to shatter apart. Wanted to scream and cry and-

"It's okay." Dream replied, his voice far more shaky than he would've liked. "I get it." That might be a lie. Both statements might be lies.

"I'm glad it wasn't just me either." Dream said, because it was what he needed to say.

Maybe one day he'd be able to figure out if he meant it.

[zethsnex]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Technoblade & Ghostbur - Cobblestone

@sixteenth-day-event

Mining with ghost ur can be fun

[mistythedritten]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream eats lunch on the Doomsday grid

This is a squeal chapter to what I posted yesterday, could probably stand on its own.

also pasted below!

Dream hums as he walks with Techno, keeping an eye out for Tommy. Punz could dissuade everyone else from bothering them, but Tommy was the definition of a wild card. He could decide that they were too strong together and stay away or he could try to puff himself up to prove… something. Dream doesn’t really understand Tommy. 

They are making an ‘impulsive, irrational decision that is going to get them killed’ according to Philza, but they’ve fought off the server just the two of them before, and that was without withers! They can use withers here.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year already. It feels like just last week we were gearing up for Doomsday,” Dream says, fiddling with his ring. 

“I know, yet here we are, celebrating our first anniversary!” Techno grins, flipping his braid over his shoulder. “I’m glad we are doing this instead of the stupid prison plan you came up with.”

“OKAY, I get it! Throwing myself in prison would have been a terrible idea, bla bla bla, you were right,” Dream rolls his eyes, not that Techno can see it. 

They both have gotten better with public affection that isn’t spurred on by adrenaline, but Dream hasn’t been comfortable with his face being out for most of his life. 

Dream thinks it’s an Admin thing. Techno thinks it’s a safety blanket. Phil thinks it’s a trauma response. 

Punz thinks that it’s a result of Autism, which both he and Techno didn’t even know existed until Punz had brought them a book on mental disorders and disabilities, with certain pages bookmarked.

It had explained a lot, actually. 

“Okay, here we are!” Techno throws a pearl, Dream following behind. They land on top of the grid. 

“Phil did a good job prettying this place up. I like the waterfall,” Dream comments as he walks along the obsidian. 

“Yeah, I still can’t believe this much Redstone has survived,” Techno looks around. “Where was that ledge again?” 

“Over here,” Dream starts to walk to the place where he had set up the control system and Techno had proposed. 

They brush off some redstone and moss, before laying their blanket down. Techno pulls out a meat and cheese tray and Dream pours them both some lemonade. 

“I love you,” Dream cuddles up to Techno, handing him his drink. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you too,” Techno rumbles, plopping his head on Dream’s. “Thank you for staying by my side all this time.” 

They spend the rest of their anniversary lunch talking about nothing in particular, enjoying the view and each other’s company.

[these-secondhand-wings]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream and Purpled plan their attack on Las Nevadas

RAUGH I know very little about Purpled so I got all my info from a very reliable source ( @10piecechickenmcnugget ) (sorry for tag!)

Dream design is based on my own personal design with some fictive's features sprinkled in bc he wanted to help. Purpled is loosely based on Sage's RP design with the fluffy moth-like features because I really liked those, as well as just staring at the sketch and adding whatever felt right. We need more aliens and silly space people in general in Minecraft. Starborne propaganda not for Purpled but for me /j

I'm not great with background composition yet so I apologize for that mess (and the Las Nevada's sign because I am notoriously terrible at drawing my own scene backgrounds) but I did like the challenge with the hands and separate body perspectives :D

Purpled in general is really fun to design <3 space peopleeeeeeee

@sixteenth-day-event

[hopalongfairywren]

I wrote a fic for the @sixteenth-day-event lol check it out https://archiveofourown.org/works/53093737

[reinventingaxel]

I Wanna Know How You See You

Prompt: Fundy writes down his true feelings about Wilbur.

Summary:

Fundy woke up in a cold sweat for the 3rd time this week. He had a nightmare about Wilbur again. His dear Dad. The man who left him alone to fend for himself. The man who lied to everyone. Even his own son.

AKA Fundy writes down his feelings about Wilbur, never expecting him to find out.

This work was specifically made for the @sixteenth-day-event on Tumblr! Check out their blog for other works from this event. Thank you so much to the organizers <3

[dwtdog]

i'm a new author so i'm trying to join all the events jajajajajaj bummed i missed the announcement for the summer exchange

oh yeah i know that feeling :3

[cinnamoncraft]

trying to finish a fic for the first time in over three years. why do I have the heart rate of an animal being hunted for sport.

[concidineart]

“So, Phil.”

“Hm?”

“Did you notice the enderman outside?”

“Mmhm.”

“It's like a small one. Kinda nervous. Weird eyes?”

“Oh, you mean Ranboo.”

“Why are they here, Phil?”

“Mate, I invited him.”

@sixteenth-day-event

Patreon

[icara-mack]

happy @sixteenth-day-event everyone! hi doomsday enjoyers accept me please Went with: the past repeated. L’manburg’s about to go boom (sorry)

[drmslastmorning]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Forgiveness & Loneliness

Phantom pain / the rupture

Characters: Dream, Tommyinnit

Words: 2.2k (one-shot)

Warnings: nothing for once! maybe past mentions of abuse, torture. the usual prison talk.

Dream's been staying with Technoblade for a bit. Tommy gets talked into entertaining the idea of a conversation between them.

Dream places down a rock next to a few others. He looks like a child collecting rocks, surely even Techno would send mocking laughter his way if he saw him right now. The loneliness he feels without the other feels misplaced, but it's almost like he's homesick. Well, he guesses this cabin is his home, so he shouldn't be, but when he's alone, it just feels like that, a cabin. He doesn't feel at home. Tommy wants to make fun of him, but the comment gets stuck in his throat. 

"You look like shit," Tommy utters instead and he feels it's the most neutral thing he could've said. He doesn't have many positive words for the man across the room, nor does he plan on developing any. He's not quite sure why he's entertaining the thought of even talking to each other: as if that'd make a difference to the past. (It could make a difference for your future!), he recounts Phil's words in his head and massages his forehead with a sigh. He wonders if it's worth the hassle and he supposes it has to be, he's already here now. No backing out.

"Thanks." Dream swallows flatly and if he could disappear into the wall he's suddenly leaning against, he would. The room's illuminated by the fireplace and 2 gently lit lanterns, which Dream is still getting used to. He's not quite sure he'll ever be truly comfortable with the crackling of fire and the way it illuminates the room, but it's what makes Techno the most comfortable, so he supposes he'll put up with it. (He hasn't mentioned his discomfort, doesn't plan to.)

"So," Dream takes the lead, even though his throat dries up instantly. "Techno said to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"That makes two of us." He mimics Tommy's sigh and it makes the other narrow his eyes at him.

"You're full of shit. I don't think you'd tell me a single truthful word." His voice drips with venom and it's increasingly clear that little will be achieved this way. He's unsure why Techno and Phil thought it would be a great idea to leave them alone like this. Hopefully Techno would be back soon.

Dream nods. "Let it out," he says in a manner that could be mistaken to be mocking, but he's mimicking again- This time the way Techno lets him go out on his cynical monologues. It does weirdly help when you're not being taken seriously whatsoever, as frustrating as it feels when you are monologuing.

"Don't make it sound like you care for what I have to say to you, shithead," Tommy curses, crossing his arms, sinking into the couch he's sitting on. Dream standing and him sitting gives him a weird feeling of power dynamic, but standing up would be admitting such and for once he's aware that he is simply imagining the notion. It's not mutual and if he acknowledges it it'll only give Dream an advantage - whatever that may mean in a situation such as this.

"This is pointless."

"I have to agree," Dream nods again, shaky fingers reaching out for one of the bigger rocks. They're cold, even though the room temperature feels like it's only getting warmer. It's probably not, but he feels like the heat is closing in on him. Every inch of his body hurts, it's phantom pains, Techno described it as. No shit, Dream had responded to that, he's not stupid.

"Do you want to leave?"

"I do," Tommy whispers, but shakes his head. "But I fucking- I guess I want peace too? You're- I don't ever feel at peace when you're there. But neither do I when- When you're not there." He just wants to feel alright. He wants to be capable of sitting here without feeling hands on his shoulder and hearing Dreams voice as if it was right by his ear and feeling like every inch of his body is owned by someone other than him.

"Right." Dream thought that's what it is and he can't blame him for the paranoia, considering he's the very source of it. "I don't have any motive to hurt you," he says, carefully.

Weirdly enough, the rocks do provide a source of comfort. Cold helps him ground himself, it helps him remember that he's not surrounded by obsidian and cut off from the world by a lava stream. But that's about as much as they do and he can't help but feel a little childish standing in the corner, holding rocks in between fingers and prosthetics Phil crafted for him. He's really good at making those and Dream's never asked why. He wonders, though.

"That's- that's the exact opposite of comforting. What the hell would you do if you did, huh?"

"Maybe I would hurt you then, yeah."

"Right. Fuckin'- Of course you didn't learn shit. I know you haven't changed a bit." Tommy feels a little ridiculous saying this to the pitiful mess cowering against the wall, but after years of paranoia it feels a little like instinct. He barks because he doesn't really have enough of a bite. But he's too scared to shut his stupid mouth. He'd bite, but Phil told him not to and for once in his life Tommy feels he should mature a little and listen. He knows, such a shocker.

"Eh, I'd say I've changed," the taller(or is he? Dream doesn't really know anymore.) hybrid rolls the rock between his shaking fingers, leaning his head against the wall. He feels dizzy, but there's nowhere nearby to sit down. His balance hasn't been the same, he still looks so much smaller than he did before. Tommy is really thin, but he feels even he's got more meat on his bones right now.

"Maybe not for the better like you seem to have- hoped. Sorry about that." His words feel mocking even to Dream himself, but he doesn't have the energy to put any empathy in his words. It wouldn't be true anyways, because he doesn't truly feel sorry. When he sees Tommy like that, he feels nothing but his usual sadistic streak biting at the back of his throat, he wants to fall back into every habit he learned in the past years. (Changing means the prison meant nothing. Getting better means the prison meant nothing. Regaining friendships and forgiveness and gentleness and kindness means the prison meant fucking nothing and he endured what he did for fucking nothing. The thought sends him spiraling.) His whole body aches. Changing means the prison means nothing. Changing means all of his trauma was for nothing. Being all buddy-buddy with Techno means distancing himself from everyone was for nothing. 

But he feels lonely. It's so laughable. He went through so much and now he feels like it was easier to deal with when he was rotting in prison. Now it just hurts and he has to confront it.

"Right-- Right you fucking are," Tommy hisses, finally getting off from the couch he's sitting on. He can't bear the perceived oppression any longer and he hates the way Dream winces into the wall when he does. He hates the way he can't take his eyes off him and he hates the pitiful way he's looking at him. "God damn, Dream. You look really damn pitiful right now, do you know that?" He hates it. His tail whips against the couch behind him, almost in a painful manner. 

Dream closes his eyes with a nod. "Mhm."

"I don't accept your apology, by the way."

"That's okay. I didn't mean it anyways," Dream admits, opening his eyes again. He's disoriented for a moment, before he finds Tommy again. He seems to have wandered around the room, closer to the fireplace. An intrusive thought itches him to push him into the flames, but he doesn't. He doesn't think he'd succeed anyways, and he's not sure if the fact that it seems impossible is the only thing stopping him. If it is, he must be closer to the Dream Tommy is seeing than even he thought he was. The pain didn't make him a better person. Unsurprising to the both of them. Pain didn't make either of them any better.

"Techno's really betting on the fact that you've changed," Tommy comments, finally having managed to tear his gaze from the other.

"I never promised him anything." It comes out a lot more defensively than he means it to.

"Well, I guess you haven't killed me. You've got that going for you," he exclaims sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to lower your guard."

"I could just kill you, too," the blonde says, looking back at Dream. They exchange stares.

"You could." Dream nods, breathing out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "But I don't think Techno would forgive you for that one."

"Hah. He doesn't care about me anyways. Why else do you think he's putting me in the same four walls as you?" Tommy grits his fists and he really wants to punch Dream. Maybe he could take that last life of his the same way he did his.

"I don't know. Certainly not for me. I barely even think about you anymore." That statement feels like a sting to his fucking chest and it snaps something inside of him. He stomps over to Dream and when he's standing in front of him, he suddenly feels taller. That wasn't the way he expected to feel so close to someone he fears so much more when he isn't even there. He hates that he isn't even scared of him.

"Are you going to punch me?" Dream looks at Tommy, and he does feel smaller. He's not sure if he actually is, it's been a while since they've been friendly enough to compare heights and last time he stood in front of him he was wearing platforms. He doesn't have the balance for those anymore.

"I was going to." Tommy is trembling. "I was fucking going to, Dream."

"Well, I'm not stopping you." Not that he could, anyways. He thinks about Techno, and he wonders how Techno would react if he returned to him dead on the floor. He's almost tempted to find out. He guesses he wouldn't see it, if he did die.

"Your pitiful act's working really well," Tommy curses under his breath and Dream wants to respond that it's not an act, but when he opens his mouth no sound comes out. Really proving the pitiful part of what Tommy said. Tommy can't do it. He wants to and he balls his fist and he feels like a fucking puppet on a string but he just can't do it.

"I'm not-- Yeah, you know what? I'm better than that. I'm not going to punch you. You're a fucking parasite, but I'm not going to fucking punch you."

Dream doesn't know how to argue against that. He doesn't know if it makes Tommy much better if he won't punch him. He'd almost argue he'd be doing them all a favor.

"It's not going to bring me fucking peace if I do. Your fucking- You're going to be a parasite regardless of if I kill you. It won't get you out of my head."

"Sorry about that," Dream says again, and it makes Tommy grit his teeth.

"Do you mean that?"

"I don't know."

"That's what I fucking thought. Your empty apologies mean fucking nothing to me." Tommy shakes his head, then steps away from him again. "I don't forgive you. I'm never going to." He feels so fucking lonely in Dreams presence. But it's almost worse when he's completely alone. He finds himself wondering if he should just run away. It's not worth it to wait for Techno to return. This is pointless.

Dream bites his lip. "Are you going to tell Sam?"

"Tell Sam what, bitch?"

Dream doesn't respond. He's not quite sure why he asked about Sam. Instinct, perhaps. He still sees him in everything. He still fears him too much.

"He knows you're here. He's the one who keeps warning me about you. The way he talks about you fucking weirds me out, actually." Tommy grabs a log and tosses it into the dying fire and for a moment he wonders how it'd feel to throw himself into the flames. He doesn't. It's a suicidal thought he hasn't had in a while. Maybe being around Dream is actually just making him worse again.

"So I haven't really- been talking to him. What am I going to tell him? Oh, Dream tried apologizing to me. Techno wanted me to fucking forgive him, by the way. Yeah, they've been fucking." Tommy snorts, falling onto the rug with a sigh, crossing his legs.

Dreams breath feels too short. His breathing is really shallow. "We haven't-"

"Whatever, man. Until you realize the fucking- Damage you did to me nothing is going to change."

A swallow. "I do. But I can't really force myself to feel bad for you."

Tommy laughs dryly. "Well, at least you're honest. I'll give you that, Dream."

"Thanks?"

"Let's wait for Techno in silence?," Tommy offers, having given up on the banter.

Dream laughs, a bit more genuine. "Yeah, sure."

[vpofcookies]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Philza has a vision of a future life

>Takin' over the world?

>Being friends

[novaursa]

The Queen Who Was Not

- Summary: After Aegon broke his promise to you, he leaves you broken. You decided to take your fate into your own hands. But fate is a fickle beast.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This is an alternative version of The Broken Crown, with another set of events. This story was another suggestion made by @renasd , with slight changes in the plot.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

You had loved Aegon since you were a child, when the world seemed small and the stars could be plucked from the sky with a word from your brother. He was the sun around which you orbited, his every word, every glance, every promise etched into your heart. When he promised you marriage, a union of love unlike any the realm had seen, you believed him with the fervor of a child who thinks dragons will live forever.

The bond between you and Aegon was forged in those early years, as strong as dragonsteel. You would watch him with wide, admiring eyes as he trained with Blackfyre in hand, his strength and determination unmatched. In turn, he would watch you with a quiet, almost protective affection, promising that one day you would stand beside him not just as a sister, but as a queen.

You thought that day would come when you turned sixteen. It was the age when a Targaryen girl came into her own, her blood singing with fire, ready to join with another to strengthen the family line. Your heart was aflame with anticipation, the promise of his words fueling the fire of your hope. Aegon was the Conqueror now, a king with two queens, but in your mind, you were always meant to be his third, his heart.

But then came the wedding of Visenya, the elder sister whose stern beauty and fierce loyalty had always been a shadow over you. You understood his duty to her, the need to cement the ancient bloodline with a union of strength. It was a bond of necessity, you told yourself, a marriage of fire and steel. And then, before you could even catch your breath, he took Rhaenys as well.

Rhaenys, the sister of the dawn, laughter always on her lips, her beauty a shining beacon that drew the eyes of the realm. She was the beloved, the one whom Aegon desired with a passion that left you cold. You saw it in the way he looked at her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the softening of his gaze that you had once thought was reserved for you alone.

The realization was a blade between your ribs, twisting deeper with each smile they shared, each touch that should have been yours. Aegon had taken Visenya out of duty, but Rhaenys he had chosen for desire. And what were you, then? A childhood promise, a girl left behind in the shadow of queens more radiant than the sun.

On the eve of your sixteenth name day, when the moon hung heavy and the sea whispered of forgotten hopes, you found yourself standing before Aegon. Your voice trembled as you spoke, asking him when it would be your turn, when he would fulfill the vow made beneath the stars of your childhood.

His answer shattered the last remnants of your hope. He wanted to marry you out of love, he said, and not out of duty or desire. He wanted to make you his queen, not because it was expected, but because he cherished you beyond all others. But not yet. Not now, when the realm was still fragile, when his conquests were still incomplete.

Your heart, already broken, turned to ash. Love. He spoke of love while he stood between his two queens, the weight of their presence suffocating you. He wanted you to wait, to be patient, to be his beloved someday, when the world was ready. But you had waited long enough. You could not be a shadow, a mere promise in the distance while he shared his bed, his throne, his life with others.

That night, you made your choice. Dressed in the colors of your house, your silver hair braided with blood-red ribbons, you climbed upon Tesaerix’s back. Your dragon felt your turmoil, your pain. She roared into the night sky, the sound echoing across Dragonstone, a cry of fury and sorrow that would not be contained.

You flew to Driftmark, the sea wind biting at your skin, tears freezing upon your cheeks. There, in the hall of High Tide, you found Aethan Velaryon, his eyes widening in surprise at your arrival. You barely knew him, this sea lord with salt in his veins and ambition in his heart, but that did not matter.

“I would marry you,” you said, your voice strong, unwavering. “I would marry you and be free of this cage.”

He looked at you, seeing the dragon fire in your eyes, the determination that could not be quenched. And he agreed. You were wed under the stars, the salt waves lapping at your feet, the cries of seagulls mingling with the distant roar of your dragon.

You were no longer the little sister left behind. You were a Velaryon now, a bride of the sea and sky, and Aegon’s hold on your heart was no more. As you stood there, your hand clasped in Aethan’s, you felt the first stirrings of something new—freedom, independence, the taste of a life that was your own.

And when Tesaerix took to the skies once more, her wings cutting through the night air, you knew there was no going back. You would never be his third queen, the last to be chosen. You were a dragon, and you would forge your own path in a world that had tried to bind you in chains.

The news reached Aegon like a dagger to the heart. You, his cherished sister, his beloved, had wed Aethan Velaryon. The words were barely whispered before he was in the air, his dragon’s wings beating furiously against the sky. He had never known fear like this, not when facing the flames of battle or the uncertainty of conquest. But now, it gripped him like an iron fist.

As he descended upon Driftmark, the sun barely cresting the horizon, he saw Tesaerix circling above the Velaryon castle, her gold-cream scales gleaming in the early light. Her roar was a warning, a challenge that cut through the air like a blade. He knew she sensed his turmoil, but he had to see you, had to make you understand.

You were in the courtyard when he landed, your stance regal, your eyes cold. Aethan stood beside you, a protective hand on your arm, his presence a barrier between you and the king. Aegon dismounted swiftly, his eyes locked on yours, desperation etched across his face.

“Y/N, what have you done?” His voice was strained, the words tearing from his lips. “Why would you do this?”

You lifted your chin, the hurt buried deep beneath a mask of resolve. “I did what you would not allow me to do, Aegon. I took my fate into my own hands.”

His hands clenched at his sides, his frustration barely contained. “I wanted to marry you, Y/N. I wanted to wait until the realm was secure, until I could give you everything you deserved, without the shadow of duty or desire hanging over us.”

“You speak of love,” you said, your voice icy, “but you made me wait while you took Visenya and Rhaenys. You left me to watch, to wonder when my turn would come. I am not some prize to be claimed at your convenience, Aegon.”

He stepped forward, his eyes pleading. “You are not a prize, Y/N. You are my heart. I thought you would understand. I needed to take Rhaenys—”

“Needed?” You laughed, the sound bitter. “You needed her because you wanted her. And Visenya, because it was your duty. What am I, then? A symbol of your love? A trinket you can set aside until you are ready?”

Aethan’s grip on your arm tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched Aegon. “She is my wife now, Aegon. You cannot undo what has been done.”

Aegon’s gaze flickered to Aethan, anger flaring in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Velaryon. You have stolen something precious from me.”

“I have taken nothing that was not freely given,” Aethan replied, his voice steady, though his hand shook ever so slightly.

You stepped forward, placing yourself between the two men, your expression resolute. “I made this choice, Aegon. I am no longer yours to command.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, his composure shattered. “Please, Y/N, come back with me. We can make this right.”

“No,” you said, the finality in your tone cutting through him like a sword. “You had your chance, Aegon. I will not be your afterthought.”

He stood there, the wind whipping around him, his fists trembling with suppressed rage and grief. He looked at you, his eyes searching, pleading, but you did not waver. Finally, with a choked growl, he turned away, climbing back onto his dragon.

As he flew back to Dragonstone, his heart was a storm of emotions—rage, despair, regret. He had lost you, the one he had always thought would be by his side. The bitter taste of his failure burned in his throat, and he knew that this wound would not heal easily.

Days passed, the silence between you and Aethan slowly thawing as you adjusted to your new life. He was kind, considerate, his presence a balm to the scars Aegon had left behind. Though your marriage had not yet been consummated, there was a growing warmth between you, a tentative affection that could have blossomed into something more given time.

But time was not on your side.

It happened one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sea in shades of crimson and gold. Aethan was found in his chambers, lifeless, his face twisted in pain. There were no marks, no wounds, nothing to suggest foul play, but you knew. In your heart, you knew.

Aegon.

The realization hit you like a blow, your knees buckling as you stumbled away from Aethan’s still form. The air seemed to close in around you, thick and suffocating, as if the walls themselves were pressing down. You fled to the sea cliffs, the roar of the waves below a distant echo to the storm raging within you.

Tesaerix found you there, her massive form looming behind you, a soft rumble in her throat. She could sense your anguish, your fury. You pressed your forehead against her warm scales, your tears mingling with the salt spray of the sea.

“He did this,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He took him from me.”

Your dragon growled low, her eyes flashing crimson in the fading light. You knew she would burn the world at your command, that her wrath would mirror your own. But what good would that do now? Aethan was gone, his life snuffed out before it had truly begun, and you were left adrift, your heart shattered anew.

The days that followed were a blur of mourning, the Velaryons gathering to pay their respects, their faces shadowed with suspicion. They whispered of poison, of dark magic, of the king’s wrath descending upon them in secret. But there was no proof, nothing but the aching certainty in your heart.

And Aegon... Aegon was silent. No message, no word from Dragonstone. But you knew he was watching, waiting, his presence a looming shadow you could not shake.

As you stood before Aethan’s sarcophagus which his family lowered into the sea, you made a vow. You would not be broken, not by Aegon or anyone else. He had taken too much from you already, but he would not take your spirit. You were a Targaryen, a rider of dragons, a daughter of fire and blood.

And if Aegon thought he could bind you to his will, he would soon learn just how fierce a dragon’s wrath could be.

The months of mourning were a blur of quiet pain, the weight of grief settling like a mantle across your shoulders. Driftmark’s salt-soaked shores had been both refuge and prison, the sea wind a constant reminder of the life that had been stolen from you. But as time passed, sorrow hardened into resolve, and your thoughts turned to vengeance. Aethan’s death would not go unavenged, and the one who had wronged you would pay dearly.

You returned to Dragonstone in the dead of night, Tesaerix’s wings cutting through the dark sky like a blade. The castle loomed before you, a silhouette of ancient stone and flickering torches. It had been your home once, a place of childhood dreams and broken promises. Now, it would be the stage for your retribution.

Your father, Aerion Targaryen, the stern and unyielding Lord of Dragonstone, greeted you with a wary gaze. His hair, a crown of silver, seemed to catch the light as he watched you approach, your steps echoing in the great hall. There was no warmth in his eyes, only the cold calculation of a man who had seen too many battles, too much bloodshed.

“Why have you come, daughter?” His voice was gruff, suspicion lacing his words.

You met his gaze unflinchingly, your chin held high. “To make amends for my folly and to serve our house.”

His brows knitted together, curiosity mingling with doubt. “And how do you intend to do that?”

“By wedding Rhaegel,” you said, each word measured, deliberate. “It is time I returned to my family, to my duty. A union with my brother will strengthen the bloodline, bind our house tighter.”

Your father’s silence was heavy, the air between you charged with tension. You knew he would see the logic in your words. The union would solidify the family, secure the power of House Targaryen, and—most importantly—draw a line that Aegon would not be able to cross without dire consequences.

“Rhaegel is a gentle soul,” he finally said, his tone thoughtful. “He would not refuse you, and such a match would indeed serve our house well.”

The words were a victory, though they tasted bitter on your tongue. Rhaegel was a quiet, kind brother, one who had never sought power or conflict. But he would be your husband, and through him, you would strike back at the man who had shattered your world.

The wedding was held in the shadow of Dragonstone’s volcanic peak, the sky above churning with clouds that threatened rain. The hall was filled with the banners of your house, the air thick with the scent of burning incense and dragonsteel. Rhaegel stood beside you, his eyes soft, his hand trembling slightly as he took yours. He had not questioned your intentions, had not hesitated to join his fate with yours. He was a lamb led to slaughter, and you were the wolf at his side.

When you spoke your vows, your voice was steady, unyielding. Each word was a vow not only to Rhaegel, but to yourself, a promise that Aegon would never hold you again, never bend you to his will. The ceremony passed in a blur, the faces around you fading into insignificance as you sealed your fate.

And then, the news reached King’s Landing.

The ravens carried the message to Aegonfort, their wings a dark omen against the pale sky. Aegon’s rage, when he learned of your marriage, was a storm that shook the very foundations of the newly built keep. He was a dragon unleashed, his fury visible even from afar. The courtiers whispered of his madness, of the destruction that followed in his wake as he stormed through the halls, his voice a roar that sent servants scurrying for cover.

He tore through the council chamber, Blackfyre drawn, the gleaming blade slashing through the air. His advisors cowered, their faces ashen with fear as he raged, his words incoherent, his eyes blazing with a fire that seemed to burn from within. He cursed your name, cursed your defiance, the betrayal he felt like poison in his veins.

“How dare she!” His voice echoed through the stone halls, a thunderous bellow that seemed to shake the very walls. “She belongs to me, and she weds again another under my very nose!”

The destruction was swift, catastrophic. He smashed the great table that had been carved in the shape of Westeros, his wrath reducing it to splinters. Tapestries burned, the flames licking hungrily at the stone, and the Aegonfort quaked beneath the weight of his fury. The court trembled, for never before had they seen their king so unhinged, so consumed by rage.

From Dragonstone, you heard of the chaos, the whispers carried on the wind. Each word was a balm to the wounds he had inflicted, each report of his anger a testament to your victory. He would not have you, not now, not ever. Your marriage to Rhaegel was a shield, an unbreakable barrier between you and the man who had tried to claim you.

Rhaegel, sweet and oblivious, took no notice of the storm he had unwittingly become part of. He treated you with gentle kindness, his shy smiles and soft words a stark contrast to the tempest you had unleashed. He did not ask why you had chosen him, did not pry into the reasons behind your sudden return. Perhaps he was content to simply have you by his side, a sister and now a wife, his world made brighter by your presence.

But beneath the calm exterior, your heart was a roiling sea. You had won a victory, yes, but the cost was high. You had bound yourself to Rhaegel, a man who could never be more than a shield against Aegon’s wrath. The knowledge was a cold, sharp blade, but you wielded it with purpose, with a determination that burned hotter than dragonfire.

You would not be owned, not by Aegon or any man. Your life was yours to command, your choices your own to make. And if Aegon thought he could bend you, could break you with his fury, he would soon learn that a dragon does not bow to anyone.

In the halls of Dragonstone, you walked with your head held high, the whispers of the courtiers following in your wake. They spoke of your defiance, your strength, your unyielding will. You were a force to be reckoned with, a storm in human form, and you would not be swayed.

Aegon could rage and destroy, could tear down kingdoms and burn cities to ash. But he could not touch you, not now. You were beyond his reach, a dragon in flight, your wings spread wide against the sky. And you would soar, higher and farther than he could ever imagine, leaving him behind in the ruin of his own making.

The birth was a struggle from the very beginning. As the night waned and the dawn crept over the horizon, the air in Dragonstone was thick with tension. The cries from your chambers echoed through the stone halls, a haunting symphony of pain and desperation. The maesters and midwives worked frantically, their faces drawn and pale, their hands slick with blood and sweat.

When the infant’s wail finally pierced the silence, it was not the sound of triumph. The child, small and frail, struggled to draw breath, its cries weak and fluttering like the wings of a dying bird. And you, spent and broken, lay still upon the birthing bed, your skin ashen, your breath shallow. The life that had burned so brightly in your eyes was now a dim flicker, barely holding on.

Rhaegel sat at your bedside, his hands clutching yours, tears streaming down his cheeks. He called your name, his voice breaking, but you were already slipping away, your spirit drifting like smoke on the wind. As the sun rose, you drew your last breath, the light fading from your eyes as the shadows claimed you.

Grief settled over Dragonstone like a dark cloud. Rhaegel, the gentle brother who had loved you with a quiet devotion, was inconsolable. He held the child—a daughter, her silver hair fine as silk, her tiny chest struggling with each shallow breath—and he wept for the life that was already slipping away. She survived only a day, a brief flicker of existence that faded into darkness before she could even know the world.

The news reached Aegon in King’s Landing, carried by a raven whose dark wings seemed an ill omen. He read the message once, twice, his mind struggling to grasp the words. You were gone. His fierce, defiant sister, the one he had always thought would stand beside him, had been taken by death’s cruel hand. And the child—his niece, his blood—was gone as well.

The rage that gripped him was like nothing he had ever known, a tempest that tore through his heart and mind. He mounted Balerion without a word, the Black Dread’s wings spreading wide as they soared into the sky. The flight to Dragonstone was swift and furious, the great dragon’s roar echoing across the Narrow Sea as if the heavens themselves were protesting Aegon’s wrath.

He arrived on the day of your pyre, the castle’s courtyards filled with the somber faces of those gathered to pay their respects. As he dismounted, his eyes blazed with fury, his expression dark and terrifying. He stormed through the crowd, his presence a force of nature that parted those before him like a wave crashing against the shore.

Rhaegel stood beside the pyre, his face hollow, his eyes red from weeping. He looked up as Aegon approached, his grief turning to fear at the sight of his brother’s wrath. Aegon’s hand shot out, gripping Rhaegel by the front of his robes, dragging him close until their faces were inches apart.

“What did you do to her?” Aegon’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, each word trembling with barely restrained violence. “She was never yours to take.”

Rhaegel’s hands clutched at Aegon’s wrists, his voice shaking as he tried to answer. “I—she was my wife, Aegon. I loved her, I would never—”

“Your wife?” Aegon spat, his grip tightening, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to burn hotter than the flames that would soon consume your body. “She was mine! She was always mine, and you took her, you stole her from me! You killed her!”

The accusation hung in the air, raw and brutal, and those gathered around the pyre fell silent, their eyes wide with shock and fear. Rhaegel’s breath came in ragged gasps, his face paling as Aegon’s words struck like blows.

“Aegon, please,” he choked out, his voice desperate. “I did nothing to harm her. I tried to love her, to make her happy—”

“You are a fool,” Aegon snarled, shoving Rhaegel away so violently that he stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. “A weak, pathetic fool who let her die, who couldn’t protect her! She was too strong for you, too fierce, and you crushed her spirit with your weakness!”

Rhaegel fell to his knees, his shoulders shaking as he wept, his cries soft and broken. “I tried, Aegon. I tried to save her.”

Aegon’s laughter was a bitter, hollow sound. “Save her? You were never strong enough to save her. You should have let her be, let her come back to me. I would have protected her, would have given her everything. But now—” His voice broke, and for a moment, the fury in his eyes was eclipsed by a grief so deep it seemed to tear him apart from within. “Now she’s gone, and it’s your fault.”

Their father, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward, his face lined with sorrow and weariness. “Aegon, enough. This is not the time—”

“Not the time?” Aegon rounded on him, his rage flaring anew. “You let this happen! You let her marry him, let her throw herself away on someone too weak to protect her. You were supposed to be our father, supposed to keep us safe, and you failed.”

The old man’s shoulders slumped, the weight of Aegon’s words bearing down on him like a crushing tide. “I did what I thought was best. She made her choice, Aegon. She chose her path.”

Aegon’s face twisted with pain and anger, his voice a roar that echoed off the castle walls. “Her path should have been beside me! You should have made her mine, should have stopped her!”

The silence that followed was deafening, the air thick with the tension of words that could not be unsaid. Aegon’s chest heaved with the force of his emotions, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes, wild and haunted, turned back to the pyre where your body lay, wrapped in the white shroud of death.

He took a step forward, his gaze fixed on your still form, and the rage seemed to drain from him, leaving only a hollow emptiness. “You were mine,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You were always supposed to be mine.”

And then, with a choked sound that was part sob, part growl, he turned and stormed away, the crowd parting before him in silence. He climbed back onto Balerion, the great dragon’s wings unfurling as they took to the sky. The wind whipped around him as they flew, the cold air biting at his skin, but he felt nothing but the gaping void where you had once been.

In the days that followed, the fire of Aegon’s wrath spread across the realm, his fury a wildfire that consumed everything in its path. He was a king unchained, his grief and anger a deadly combination that none dared challenge. The Aegonfort, now a place of ashes and ruin, stood as a testament to his pain, the once-proud symbol of his reign now crumbling beneath the weight of his loss.

And through it all, the memory of you lingered, a ghost that haunted his every step, a reminder of what he had lost, of what he had destroyed with his own hands. The realm would remember this day, the day a dragon’s heart broke, and the world trembled beneath the shadow of its rage.

[hiding-in-the-vault]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Quackity remembers Dream

Based on this concept I'm obsessed with for c!Q, where after exposing himself to constant violence, he can't get it out of his mind even while doing mundane things- or especially then

[plaguethewaters]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Technoblade remembers the arctic commune

techno remembers (to pack) the commune

aka, emduo is moving to a new place after canon, but techno has as much autism as i will him to and does Not like separating from his past