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Part 1 of Dream's Prison Escape
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2022-01-27
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2022-08-01
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The Revival of a Young Sun

Summary:

Dream wants to see George. DreamXD wants George to be happy. Quackity wants the Revival Book from Dream. George... doesn't really know what he wants? Together, a series of deals are made surrounding the Revival Book and one thing leads to another—George visits Dream in prison to obtain the Revival Book. Lots of things happen in between, but hey, it's bound to happen.

Or, the DreamXD prison visit except it goes slightly different and I take the idea and run with it. AKA *laughs maniacally* if I had my evil little hands on the DSMP lore...

EDIT: dude literally just orphaning this fic. i remember really enjoying this fic when i wrote it and it helped me get out of writer's block so i appreciate it enough to not delete it. but fuck wilbur fr. so yeah. tw cause his dsmp character is in here but also tbf his character acts like a piece of shit in here too

Notes:

Hello!! If you're here from my tiktok, welcome! This has been in the works for a long time because I didn't want to post anything without having a significant amount written. This fic is based on the tiktok I have pinned, a short comic that featured Dream, Technoblade, and DreamXD, drawn about a month and a half after Techno's prison lore stream was created. Yeah, I've been fleshing out this idea since the beginning of August 2021. With that in mind, that means that most of the lore released after August isn't real in this fic.

If the posting of chapters gets stagnant, please bear with me! I'm a full-time college student and I decided to start posting right before the semester started (ahaha why did I do this to myself??).

Also, I'm hoping this will be the first fic I'll be able to finish (I have a long history of not finishing any stories I write, aside from short stories), so wish me luck! I have 11 chapters planned out + a deleted scenes doc, 8 chapters fully written, and more than half of chapter 9 written. Hopefully, this gets done in a timely manner lol.

Sorry for the long notes sections, here's The Revival of a Young Sun!

Chapter 1: George POV

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“George…”

Colors swirled around in the sky above the community house. George wasn’t sure what colors exactly, but he knew it wasn’t blue. He stepped up to the door and pushed it open slowly, wincing at the loud creaking sound it made. A few chests and furnaces lined the wall and there was one bed in the corner. That wasn’t right. There are supposed to be more beds for the whole dream team.

“George…”

He spun around, but there was no one behind George. He could’ve sworn he heard Dream. A water droplet fell from the ceiling and hit George’s nose. As he looked up, another fell and landed on his goggles. George wiped the lens with his hand, but it came back as a rusty brown, meaning it must’ve been red. Blood.

George’s stomach churned. “What the hell?”

It was coming from the aquarium upstairs. George rested his hand against the pillar in the center of the staircase, slowly closing his hand into a fist, ultimately making the decision to investigate. And then, he wished he never did. The water was the same rusty brown that was dripping from the floor. The color of the water filtered the light around him, shifting as the water moved. A headband, a pair of goggles, and a beanie floated in the water. George walked up the last step, hearing a crunch. He moved his foot aside and saw a mask, now with a crack down the center, splitting through the familiar smile.

A rush of terror-filled George, telling him to run away as far as he could. Run away from the house that he built with his friends who were now dead in the water. He didn’t know who killed them, but he knew he was next. His heart pounded against his chest as he clutched his shirt.

“George.”

“Dream?”

“Wake up.”

George awoke in a sweat, realizing he was pulling on his bedsheets as hard as he was on his shirt in his dream. No, scratch that, in his nightmare. Whatever was happening, he knew it was a nightmare.

They kept happening more frequently, and George wasn’t sure how to stop it. Sometimes he could be mid-conversation and he would start to sway on his feet, struggle to keep his eyes open, and hope he could make it to a bed before he collapsed on the spot. It all started as a coping mechanism when people began joining, but it quickly got out of hand. He couldn’t control it, even if he was doing something important.

He was outside the cat-shaped cat cafe that replaced his old house. The land didn’t have many good memories, since it got vandalized multiple times, but he couldn’t bear to leave it behind. The community house was even worse; he didn’t need his nightmare to tell him about all the horrors that the house held. In the beginning, it brought everyone together and gave the SMP a sense of, well, community. Now, it was the final thing that pried Dream away from George and Sapnap. The thing that put Dream in prison.

“George.”

Ugh, he was still dreaming. He pinched his arm, but he could definitely feel that. George shifted in his bed to sit up, and was met face to face with—

“Dream?” As George’s eyes adjusted to the light, he realized he was mistaken.

The golden rings and ender eyes shifted around the god’s head as he tilted it to the side. DreamXD looked too much like the real Dream, the main difference being the carving of “XD” in the mask instead of a smile. “Who’s Dream?”

“Nevermind,” George mumbled, sliding off of his bed.

George brushed a few dandelions and patches of grass off his shirt; that always happened when he fell asleep for long periods. Plants tended to grow on him quickly, even if he was only asleep for a few days. And if he fell asleep in Kinoko Kingdom, mushrooms would grow on him instead. That was worse since it gave him the feeling that he was being eaten alive. He picked up his satchel off the ground and put it on his shoulder, then grabbed his clout goggles from inside.

“Why do you always wear those goggles?” DreamXD asked, following George as he headed towards the tree farm.

George gritted his teeth as he almost tripped over a tree root. “I don’t know, I like them?” He steadied himself on an oak tree, looking at the community house. His eyes were unfocused.

What did it mean? George had never been sure if his dreams served as prophecies, memories from his past, or if it was just a form of torment that his mind was putting himself through. There was one dream where it allowed him to remember his parents, but then again, he also had one where Quackity was a cow. He was pretty sure that Quackity hadn’t turned into a cow, but he hadn’t seen him in a while.

The water in the aquarium was the right color this time. Of course it was; George didn’t know why he thought it would be anything else. He needed to tell himself that it was just a dream. That’s all they are. Sapnap and Karl were in Kinoko Kingdom. Quackity was working on his secret project. And Dream was… in prison.

George found himself compelled to pass through the community house, walking down the wooden pathway. Every step of the way, DreamXD followed behind, killing creepers leftover from the night and various animals. Somehow, George had attracted the attention of the god and now he was obsessed with gaining George’s friendship and protecting him. In a way, it was nice because he never had to worry about fighting anything or collecting items, but he couldn’t handle the fits of anger DreamXD went into sometimes. And he would never admit it, but George was comforted by the resemblance he had to Dream and how their voices were the same.

George stopped just before the entrance to BadBoyHalo and Skeppy’s land. The prison towered above everything in the water, terrifying as ever.

“Are you interested in visiting the prison, George?” DreamXD swung around in front of him, his arms held behind him and his floating hands held together in front.

George looked away from DreamXD. He couldn’t do this now. Dream has been in prison for months, yet he hasn’t gone to visit, not even when Sapnap asked him to. He was afraid that his image of Dream would be ruined and he wouldn’t be able to comfort himself with the memories he had from before all the wars and chaos. Before Dream started to change.

“Not today,” George said, swaying on his feet. “I think I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“You don’t want to play with me?” DreamXD leaned closer.

“No,” George stuttered.

“I thought we were friends, George.”

That was the last thing he heard as his eyelids grew heavy and his legs could no longer support his weight. DreamXD would take care of things, right?

Notes:

You gotta imagine my shock at my slow writing and planning pace as the DSMP lore progressed. Especially when Techno broke out of prison by an ender pearl stasis chamber and I looked at my story like :0 it's ok we're ignoring canon. Also, I'd like to say, my horror of watching gnf's stream where Quackity was actually coded to be a cow, after I decided to write about the time he used a cow skin during a lore stream... things are crazy.

Btw this is the shortest chapter, so expect much longer ones.

For those curious, you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (my art acc) or omg_imademigod (my pjo fan acc). My tiktok is weaktoadtinysea (no underscore this time lol), and you can see the pinned video that started this whole story, as well as the sequel comics I drew (or look at my other videos because I do spend time on them *presses fingertips together*)

If anyone is interested in beta reading, the best way to reach me is by dm on my art acc on instagram, but either of the other methods work too.

Chapter 2: Dream POV

Summary:

Dream meets DreamXD and makes a deal

Notes:

Hi, immediately posting chapter 2 because chapter 1 was so short. Don't mind me.

This chapter features the two scenes that I originally drew, so enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dream stared at his reflection in the water of the sink. His hair had gotten too long after being in prison for months, not only that, but he was starting to grow quite a beard on his chin. His prison jumper was dirty and bloodstained. And then there was his mask. He never got a new one after Tommy cracked it in their fight over the discs. He gripped the sides of the sink. If he ever got out of prison—

 

Technoblade sat in the corner of the cell, scratching away in a book. It was so loud it was almost obnoxious. 

 

“What are you doing?” Dream asked, annoyed.

 

“Drawing.”

 

Dream pried his hands off of the sink and made his way over to Technoblade. “What could you possibly be drawing?”

 

Technoblade held up the notebook and snickered. He had drawn a crude and particularly emo-looking drawing of Dream looking into the sink. “I’m quite the artist if you didn’t know—heh?!”

 

Dream snatched the book from him and tossed it into the wall of lava that enclosed them in the cell. The book sizzled and popped as it burned.

 

“Well, there goes another one of our books. Dream, you can’t keep burnin’ everything in this cell.”

 

“Watch me.” He threw a few potatoes into the lava next, laughing as Technoblade slammed his fist on the floor.

 

“That’s our only source of food!”

 

Life in prison was pretty terrible. It got worse after Tommy left and Quackity started “visiting” every day. Then it got a little better once Technoblade came. Of course, he was mad that Technoblade was dumb enough to fall into Quackity and Sam’s trap, but he finally had someone to talk to, even if he got on Dream’s nerves.

 

Dream looked down at the remaining potatoes on the floor, debated kicking one more in, but ultimately decided against it. He needed to be a little more careful about messing with Technoblade; he was a lot stronger than Tommy was. In his prime time, Dream probably could have beat Technoblade, but now? Not in the state he was in. There wasn’t much room to stay active in prison and potatoes weren’t the best source of nutrition to build muscle. Dream was a shell of his former self.

 

With that sudden thought, Dream dropped down into a sitting position on the floor and sighed.

 

“Why don’t you try doing something useful,” Technoblade said. “Like breakin’ us out of here.”

 

“That’s supposed to be your job.” Dream tucked his knees into his chest.

 

“Oh, I see, you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Okay.”

 

“Shut up, Techno.”

 

“Show me how to revive people. You can do that, right? I heard you’ve done it twice now.”

 

“I am not showing you how to revive people.”

 

“Right. Because you don’t know how.”

 

“You’re not going to trick me into doing it.”

 

“Then… try it on me.”

 

Dream whipped his head up to look at Technoblade with a disgusted look but then realized that he wouldn’t be able to tell. “What is wrong with you?”

 

Technoblade shrugged. “I’m bored. The voices in my head are bored and they want entertainment.”

 

Dream pulled up his upper lip and stared at him. This wasn’t the first time Technoblade brought up the “voices” in his head, but it still caught him off guard. He thought they usually prompted Technoblade to be violent, or as he explained, “blood for the blood god.” 

 

“There’s no benefit in me doing that.” Dream started to adjust the strap of his mask, but then stopped midway. He just got an idea.

 

Dream stood up and walked over to the chest of books, grabbed one, and then quickly wrote down everything he remembered. It was hard to memorize at first, I mean, he was trying to learn an entirely new language for it, but now he could probably do it in his sleep. The strange swirls and jutted characters were burned into his eyelids.

 

Technoblade stood up and hurried over to Dream. “Wait, wait, wait, is that the revival book?”

 

“Not the one, but it’s my memorized version,” Dream said, pushing Technoblade back. He wouldn’t be able to memorize it from one glance, but Dream didn’t want to take any chances.

 

Since the text was so long, Dream had been thinking of ways to write it faster, but he was never sure it would work. The first time Dream used the revival book, when he revived Tommy, it took him three whole days of nonstop writing to get it. It was just luck that Dream had a near-completed version when he revived Wilbur. Writing so much would be a hassle if he needed to use it quickly, so he spent weeks devising a shorter book. Now he could test it. Well, kind of. Dream wasn’t going to kill Technoblade

 

 After shutting the book, Dream made his way towards the lava wall. “I want to see what happens if I just throw the book in without the intention of reviving someone.”

 

“I have a feelin’ it’s not gonna do anything, but hopefully—” he gasps. “Techno-clone! Hopefully it clones me. Techno-clone let’s go!”

 

Dream tossed the book in and shrugged his shoulders. They waited a few seconds. Nothing happened. Dream didn’t really know what to expect, but he at least expected something.

 

Then, just as Technoblade said, “That was anticlimactic,” a flash went off behind them. They both turned to see… Dream? No, something wasn’t right. The man looked exactly like Dream used to, with his hair cut shorter and much blonder. However, he wore a green cloak, had golden rings and eyes of ender surrounding his head, and his mask had an “XD” cut through it. After taking in these details, Dream decided that “man” was probably the wrong word to describe the being in front of them.

 

What ?” Dream almost stepped forward for a better look but restrained himself. This thing somehow got into the prison and he shouldn’t mess with it. If this was what a shortened version of the revival book could do, then… what could Dream even use it for?

 

“I’ve actually seen this guy before. He broke my table,” Technoblade said.

 

Dream glanced over at Technoblade, again, forgetting that he couldn’t see Dream’s expression, no matter how deeply he frowned.

 

Technoblade approached the being, drawing out a long “Yo! Yo, what’s up!” Then, turning to face Dream, “It’s okay, he fixed my table afterward; it’s a long story. He’s some sort of god?”

 

“What?” Dream repeated. He couldn’t think of anything to say. A god? He knew he founded a religion once with Tommy, Tubbo, and Quackity, but that was long before everything went sour. Besides, Dream didn’t really believe in gods back then, he did it to get more power. 

 

“Yeah, I think he’s a god,” Technoblade confirmed.

 

The god watched them in silence, motionless, staring only at Dream. It was unsettling, the way he felt like he was being examined. His skin began to crawl as all of his thoughts turned into the same word: Run . And then the god turned to face Technoblade.

 

“Dream, you cloned yourself! You cloned the wrong person, you fool, look at him!”

 

“That’s not funny Techno.”

 

“Y’know, that’s actually something I’ve been meanin’ to ask you; how come god looks like you?”

 

“I…” Dream trailed off, stepping toward the god. He reached his hand up, covered in scars, and almost touched him, but Dream’s hand was shaking. 

 

“That feels like a question that should’ve occurred to me earlier.”

 

Dream backed up again, next to Technoblade, and then behind him. It was pathetic that he was hiding behind him, but that’s the only thing Dream could do to give himself time to think. At least from here, the god wouldn’t look at him; Technoblade was slightly taller than Dream. 

 

But before Dream could ask Technoblade, “What do we do?” the god spoke.

 

“It was George’s inner desire for me to appear this way.” His voice rang out clear and young-sounding, and much like Dream. Except it was more commanding as if it hid something terrible beneath it.

 

Shivers trailed down Dream’s spine, and he knew that underneath his prison jumper, the hair on his arms was standing up. Dream didn’t like hearing his own voice, but he caught onto one thing. “Wait—George? Have you seen him? Is he okay?”

 

The one thing he wanted to know about life outside of prison, above anything else, was about George. He didn’t even try to ask Technoblade about him because he knew that George didn’t associate himself with many people, and certainly not with a war-crazed anarchist. He knew because George stopped hanging out with Dream when he started creating wars. 

 

Sapnap was supposed to forward Dream’s message to get George to visit the prison, but he didn’t know if he went through with it. Sapnap was an honest guy, always stuck to his word, so he probably did. But George hadn’t come. He probably hated Dream. His chest got heavier with each thought, and Dream clutched at his jumper as if that was the thing weighing him down.

 

“George?” The god questioned. “Is that who you would like to see?”

 

Dream swallowed and looked down, ashamed at his feelings. Prison was lonely. Technoblade wasn’t enough, to be truthful. “I’d do anything to see him.”

 

“Anything?”

 

And George was there. Sweet, wonderful George. He was just like Dream remembered, with his blue shirt with a red box and his dark blue joggers. George loved blue. It was one of the few colors he could see the same as everyone else. His hair was the same dark brown, with his bangs swooping into his eyes behind his clout goggles. Dream wanted to walk forward and brush it away, pull off George’s goggles and become lost in his eyes.

 

“George!” Hope filled Dream’s voice as he felt himself smile for the first time in a long time. Giddiness bubbled up in his chest, pushing through all the worry and shame. George was here. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t care.

 

“Dream, that’s not George,” Technoblade said, suddenly serious. He wasn’t like this before. He was nonchalant and somehow familiar with the god, but now his guard was up. He grabbed Dream’s shoulder and pulled him back.

 

“What?” Dream pried his eyes away from George to look at Technoblade. “George is here, what do you mean?”

 

“I saw him transform into—what did you say his name was?—George.”

 

Dream looked back at George. It had to be him. Dream had so many mornings that he woke up in the community house next to George and Sapnap, he knew what they looked like, like the back of his hand, scars and everything. He knew that George liked to sleep on his back because the one time he slept on his side, Dream teased him in the morning when they woke up face to face. Dream had spent a few minutes before George woke up, just studying his face. The way that his eyelashes curled, and a little bit of scruff grew on his chin. And, of course, the peaceful look in his eyes when he woke up, that quickly turned into panic when Dream had said, “Morning, baby,” as a joke.

 

 He knew that sometimes George accidentally left his goggles on when he slept, leaving red imprints on his nose. He knew that George would spend a few minutes fixing his bedhead, only to have Sapnap come over and mess it up again by ruffling his hair. He knew that George would scream at him, frantically smoothing it over.

 

Dream knew almost everything about George. That’s why he knew that he had to believe Technoblade when he said it wasn’t George. No matter how much Dream wanted it to be. He could see clearly now that the god’s mock shirt had two letters threaded into the red stripe: XD. 

 

“It was difficult getting his form the way you wanted to see him.” Only the god’s mouth moved when he spoke, using George’s voice. But it wasn’t right. It was missing George’s inflection, his wild expressions. Everything that made George, George . “He’s very different now, plagued by nightmares, forced to sleep his life away. Your vision of him is… old.”

 

Dream’s heart stuttered out of place, causing him to visibly flinch. What did that mean? Dream knew that he had been in prison for a long time, but George couldn’t change—Dream didn’t want him to change. He was already perfect. He clenched his teeth and tried to hold back the anger that was reaching the surface.

 

“Shut up! You don’t know anything about George; you’re a monster!” Dream lashed out. 

 

“I had to wrench this George out of your cold shriveled heart.” The god’s voice was low and threatening, twisting George’s voice in ways that made Dream’s skin crawl. This level of malice didn’t belong to George. “All of your desires are rivaled by your hunger for power, a fire that can’t be put out. A fire that threatens to burn everything. If I am a monster, you are something worse.”

 

Dream’s nose began to burn. He knew that the tears were coming. He couldn’t handle the words coming from George. He knew it wasn’t him. He knew a lot of things, and one of those things was that the god spoke the truth. But Dream was afraid that George would say the same thing, given the chance.

 

Instead of letting sadness take over, Dream fueled his anger. That was something he was good at. He pointed a finger at the god as he stepped forward. “Listen, XD,” —that was what he decided to call the god— “if you keep on doing this, I’ll—”

 

Technoblade stepped in again after watching from the background for so long. He grabbed Dream’s wrist, spinning him around. “Dream, you’re talkin’ to a god, you don’t wanna do that.”

 

Dream yanked his arm away. “I don’t give a fuck!”

 

Technoblade drew his eyebrows in and frowned. He was trying to help—Dream knew that—but he was too angry to take advice. Technoblade opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted.

 

“Is this not satisfying to you?”

 

The two men froze in their side argument. The god’s head was tilted to the side as if he had reset, the previous malice forgotten. He was starting to tick Dream off.

 

“You’re no substitute for the real George, believe me,” Dream said. 

 

“Would you like to speak to the real George?”

 

Dream’s eyes softened. He wanted to bite back at the god again, but there wouldn’t be much use. Besides, he was lost in thought about seeing the real George. Lost in thought about laughing and joking with him again. Just hearing his laugh…

 

“I would love to.” Dream looked away, towards the lava wall. “But he won’t visit me. Sapnap hasn’t even come again.”

 

This time Dream saw it; there was a flash of light as the god transformed again, back into the version that resembled Dream. “I know of a way.” He steepled his fingers in front of his chest as another pair of hands—these ones floating—were splayed on both sides of his head. “But only if you’re willing to make a deal.”

 

Technoblade leaned over to Dream and spoke in a “quiet” voice. “Be careful, Dream. Remember how I said he broke my table and I couldn’t even move it?”

 

Dream swatted him away and turned his attention back to the god. “What kind of deal?”

 

The god stepped forward and reached for Dream’s face, pulling him close. His hand was abnormally cold as if there was no life in them. And his whispers were like sharp icicles, stabbing into his soul. 

 

Dream swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. “But George will come visit me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

DreamXD held out his floating hand, and Dream grabbed it.

 

“Deal.”

Notes:

Some parts of the dialogue were directly quoted from Techno's lore stream, with some of my own little touches. The quotes start around when DreamXD shows up, but it's only a few lines. Otherwise, I loved writing Techno's bits; he's such an interesting character.

I'm not sure when I'm updating it again so if anyone wants to give suggestions, I'll ponder them. Also, I forgot to mention this is my first time posting on ao3, so sorry if something ends up wonky.

Once again, you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (art acc), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 3: George POV

Summary:

Quackity asks George a favor.

Notes:

Whenever I have a finished product of something, I always struggle to not share it the moment it's done (which usually leads to me noticing mistakes afterwards lol). So like, right after I posted the first two chapters, I was planning to post this one on Wednesday (a week from the first two). Ha.

Listen, yesterday I got too absorbed in grinding out my pokedex on the new pokemon game (dumb, because I haven't even left the first area yet). And then when I remembered I wanted to post the third chapter it was already midnight and I had six hours of classes today.

Anyway, here's the third chapter. Enjoy :D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Kiss me, George!”

 

George gritted his teeth as he pushed Sapnap away, continuously swatting away the arms that tried to grab him. “Get off me, Sapnap!”

 

They stood in the center of Kinoko Kingdom, the kingdom of mushrooms, next to the yin and yang pond. Around them towered the giant mushroom buildings, gorgeous and grand. This was technically George’s home, but it felt like he was staying in Karl and Sapnap’s home instead. 

 

“C’mere, George!” Sapnap crushed George into a hug.

 

George smashed his hand into Sapnap's face, squeezing his eyes shut. “Go away!”

 

And then George opened his eyes. Sapnap was gone. He looked around the immediate area, but Sapnap was nowhere to be found. And then he checked in the pond. In the reflection, George could see mushrooms growing on his shoulders, his arms, his chest. The yin side of the pond, represented by the red mushrooms, grew over the yang side. The water became a glowing blood-red as the day rapidly turned into night.

 

“No, no, no, no,” George whispered. “Stop it. Stop it!” He backed away from the pond, ripping the mushrooms off his arms, but they kept growing back. The heel of his foot hooked onto a rock, knocking him off balance, and he fell through the earth.

 

George sat straight up in bed, heaving in gulps of air. With a slight screech, he brushed a few mushrooms off his blankets and untangled himself from the vines as he got out of bed. This time, he was really in Kinoko Kingdom. He recognized the room he slept in if he was visiting, one that led out to a balcony that overlooked the entire kingdom. He remembered that Foolish built it especially for Karl, but he preferred to stay in the library, so George was given the room instead.

 

The last thing he remembered was passing out near the prison, leaving DreamXD to put him somewhere safe. Usually, that left him in random places in the wild, but every once and a while he was in front of his old house or in Kinoko Kingdom.

 

Then, almost as if he thought him into existence, DreamXD appeared in front of him in a flash of light. “George!”

 

Sometimes, it was moments like these when George was hit with a pang of longing. He sounded just like Dream, and that only made him miss his friend more.

 

“Good… morning?” George hoped it was morning; he didn’t want to deal with monsters. He followed his morning ritual of grabbing his bag and putting on his goggles.

 

“It’s the middle of the day!” DreamXD seemed to be in a good mood today as he floated a few inches off the ground, following George to the balcony.

 

George just had to check. Kinoko Kingdom was beautiful with all of the mushroom-themed buildings and cherry blossom trees. But most importantly, the calm blue water in the yin and yang pond was consistent with the rest of his memories. He always felt the need to reassure himself since his dreams felt too real. George heard one time that dreams supposedly lasted around three to five minutes right before you woke up, but he swore that his dreams were hours long and hyper-realistic. 

 

“Do you think we should build something today, DreamXD?” George turned to the god, resting his hands on his hips.

 

This seemed to excite him, causing his golden rings and mask to spin around a few times. DreamXD was weird when expressing emotions, especially since he didn’t understand them well. Luckily, George had been around him enough to understand the basic ones. “A monument to me!”

 

“Or—consider this—a monument to me .” George grinned and held his fists in front of his chest.

 

DreamXD stopped for a moment to think about it, tapping the fingers of his floating hands on his mask.  “What materials do you need?”

 

“Well, let’s find a spot to build it first,” George said. He watched the god fly out the balcony to the land below as he turned around to walk down the ladder. “Jeez, just show off, why don’t you.”

 

“I can show off,” the god called back to him.

 

Suddenly, George was no longer on the ladder inside his house, but standing next to DreamXD. A disorienting feeling swirled in his stomach, causing him to lean on the tree next to him. “Dream!”

 

“DreamXD,” the god corrected.

 

“Right…” George turned around and started walking to the clearing next to Kinoko Kingdom. He needed to find a good area to build that wouldn’t end with Karl or Sapnap yelling at him for messing up the landscape. “Can you get me some stone bricks?”

 

Almost immediately, DreamXD was spawning in a few stacks of bricks, placing them in a chest once they approached the clearing. George spent a few minutes debating on how to build it, whether he wanted it to be a replica of himself or something that gave off “George energy.” As he thought, he pulled up flowers and weeds from the surrounding area, saving the flowers to plant later.

 

Meanwhile, DreamXD watched George do most of the work, every few minutes supplying George with materials when he thought of them. They talked about various topics, like things they would want to do, questioning the god about what he does when George sleeps (that one received no response), and suggesting meals George should make some time. And things were going well, even when the conversation lulled and fizzled out into a comfortable silence when George started to build a base for the monument.

 

“Have you thought of visiting the prison recently?”

 

A brick slipped from George’s hand, pinching his finger between the ones he had already laid down. He hissed and pulled his hand into his chest, then checked for blood. A drop beaded on the tip of his finger as he squeezed it then glared at DreamXD.

 

“Why are you bringing that up now?” he asked. 

 

The god floated over, pulling a potion from his cloak, then grabbed George’s hand. “I think it would be a good idea.”

 

George raised an eyebrow at him, then bit back another hiss when DreamXD poured the potion on his finger. “What about that is good?” 

 

The cut on George’s finger slowly closed and he went right back to the building. He finished the platform before DreamXD spoke again.

 

“I have to leave.”

 

George drew his eyebrows together and opened his mouth to speak, but the god had already teleported away. He suddenly didn’t feel like building anymore. Feeling the call of sleep pang in the back of his mind, he started to walk back to his house. Hopefully, he could get there before he passed out. He couldn’t count on DreamXD this time; something stamped out his good mood today.

 

Just as he made it to the front door, after practically dragging himself along the outside walls, his communicator started buzzing in his bag. Everyone who lived in the SMP carried one with them, but George barely used his. He thought it was broken, but apparently not. He grabbed it from his bag and saw a few messages from—wait, Quackity? When was the last time they spoke?

 

The surprise message from Quackity filled him with a little energy, allowing him to stand up straighter.

 

Can we talk? In person?

 

George tightened his hold on his communicator. He could just ignore it, pretend that he had already fallen asleep. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he thought of a response, then typed out Sure . Where do you want to meet?

 

How does the community house sound?

 

He took a deep breath. Okay .

 

 

When George arrived at the community house, Quackity was leaning against the door, looking at his communicator. He no longer wore his usual blue tracksuit, or even just his boxers as he often did for jokes. Instead, he wore a suit without the jacket; probably to make him look more like a man of the people, but still a businessman and a politician. A scar cut through his left eye to his top lip, showing off a gold tooth. 

 

“Did you fall asleep or something on your way over?”Quackity put his communicator in his pocket and met George halfway across the bridge. “What took you so long?”

 

George rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes. “I was actually about to go to sleep when you messaged me. It took me a while to fully wake up again.”

 

“So, how have you been? Doing anything other than sleeping lately?” Quackity asked.

 

George laughed lightly, hoping it didn’t come out as awkward. The two of them used to be close, but he knew this was Quackity’s professional tone. He was only making conversation to butter him up about whatever he was going to ask him. George missed the days he and Quackity would joke around and hang up funny pictures around the SMP. Now Quackity was all business.

 

Their friendship had been ruined after one of George’s sleeping spells passed over him, causing him to miss the election. Well, George didn’t really want to be vice president of L’Manbgerg, anyway. But it sent a streak of hate to Quackity. George idly wondered if he was to blame for the beginning of Quackity’s change in ideals— his colder disposition. He wondered if Quackity even still cared about him.

 

“Uh… I still do a lot of sleeping. I started a building project recently, though.”

 

“Oh, really? What are you building?”

 

“A monument… to a god,” George lied. He didn’t want to seem too full of himself. Then, trying to move away from that subject, “What have you been doing?”

 

“To a god?”

 

George winced. He just had to hook onto that.

 

“You know, I used to be in the religious business a while back,” Quackity said. “I helped build the foundations of the church with… a few people. Listen, you better be careful with that stuff, George. Wouldn’t want you getting mixed up with the wrong people.”

 

George shifted on his feet. He didn’t think he should tell Quackity that a god already got attached to him. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

 

“Right. I’ve got a lot of projects I’m working on. I don’t know if you’d be interested, though.” He pulled his communicator out of his pocket as it buzzed a few times. “I’m really sorry, George, I need to take this call.”

 

Quackity walked into the community house, hearing him jubilantly answer the call before the door shut behind him.

 

A headache panged in the back of George’s head as he waited. He couldn’t remember the last time he was awake for this long and it was really putting a toll on him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he yawned, tears pricking his eyes. Hopefully, he could stay awake long enough to finish his conversation with Quackity. Or he could let sleep take him away and he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

 

Then, at that moment, Quackity walked out of the community house. “Once again, sorry, George. Important business matters.”

 

“Yeah?” George dug the tip of his shoe in the splintering bridge. 

 

“Actually, you can have a part in those matters, if you’d hear me out.”

 

There it was. 

 

“I was just talking with Sam,” he continued, “and he was the last moving piece I was waiting for, aside from you. George, I need you to help me get the revival book information from Dream.” He grabbed George’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly.

 

George stepped back, pushing Quackity off of him. “What?”

 

“Did Dream ever tell you about the revival book before he was imprisoned?”

 

“No,” George stuttered. “We stopped talking long before then. I think the last time we had a proper conversation was when he took my kingship away and we tried to instate El Rapids as a country.”

 

A look of disgust rippled through Quackity’s face, his scar shifting the split on his lip, but then it was gone, back to his act. “Of course. Right. Well, that’s okay because I got permission from Sam to allow you in the prison. So you can talk to Dream.”

 

“You want me to ask him about the revival book?” George pulled his eyebrows together and frowned. “What makes you think he’ll tell me?”

 

Quackity splayed his hands, palms open. “You two used to be closer than anyone. He won’t listen to me or my methods. But you, George—” He grinned almost maliciously. “You can be the key!”

 

“I don’t know…” George looked down at the bridge again, this time breaking off a piece of wood. 

 

“You don’t have to decide right now, I’ll give you time to think—”

 

“Why do you need it?” George interrupted. “The revival book, I mean.” He looked into Quackity’s eyes, looking for a crack in his facade. Quackity was hard to read, especially since he was blind in one eye now, shown by the milky whiteness. There was no emotion in his eyes.

 

“Isn’t it obvious, George? Why should Dream keep that power to himself?” Quackity stepped closer, making George walk backward again. “What if someone out here lost their final life? What if Karl or Sapnap died? We wouldn’t be able to help them. I’m trying to look out for everyone—for you.”

 

George chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Give me time to think about it.” 

 

“I’ve already offered you time, as much as you need, but I encourage you to get back to me soon.” He lifted his hand in a wave and began to leave, passing through the community house.

 

George lifted his hand weakly, his hand slowly curling. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Dream, even if it would help a lot of people. The thought of it made him sway on his feet, reaching out to the fence post behind him for support. He couldn’t pass out here, not now. The sun was setting and there was no one around (most importantly, not DreamXD) and he was sure Quackity wasn’t going to turn around. George would have to go to him.

 

He made it to the community house door and struggled to open it. The walk through the house was even harder, leaning against the staircase and pausing there for a few seconds as he passed it. And once he made it across and used his body to push through the door, he could see Quackity on the bridge to Eret’s castle.

 

“Quackity, wait!” George called out with all he could muster.

 

Luckily, he turned around, shock passing through his face as he saw the state George was in. As far as George knew, everyone thought that his sleepiness was his choice, that he could actually stop it from happening. That was true, to an extent, but it would only work for so long. And when did it happen? He definitely couldn’t do anything after that. But he was just a joke to everyone.

 

“Quackity—” His hand slipped from the door as he slumped to the ground.

 

The last thing he registered was Quackity’s footsteps coming closer and closer as he called out George’s name.

 

 

Something cold slapped against George’s face.

 

“Just a little goop! That should fix him!”

 

“Wha— that’s literally not going to do anything, Slime. We need actual medication, I think he’s sick.”

 

“What’s more medication than goop? That always helps me.”

 

“That’s because he’s human, he needs a healing potion. Where’s Sam?”

 

“Sam from the Prison?”

 

“Yes, the man with the creeper face—he’s supposed to bring in a shipment.”

 

“No idea.”

 

The same cold sensation touched George’s face again and he groaned, this time more aware.

 

“Stop touching him,” Quackity said. 

 

George reached up to his face, feeling something slimy on his face. Goop…? Is that what the one voice said? “Quackity?” His voice was raspy from sleep, his mind moved like molasses.

 

“George! You’re awake!” 

 

As George slowly opened his eyes, he saw Quackity right up in his face, causing him to flinch. Quackity smiled, but his eyebrows were still drawn with concern. He wasn’t wearing his tie anymore and his suspenders were hanging down at his thighs.

 

“George from the Beginning! You’re okay!” 

 

“George from the beginning…?” George looked at the person (?) to whom the voice belonged. He was completely green and covered in (or made out of?) slime. He guessed the slime on his face was from him. “Who are you?”

 

“Definitely human!” He grinned and held out his hand. “Definitely meat!”

 

George reached out to shake his hand, feeling it mold slightly into his own. “Uh… sure.” He looked over to Quackity to give him a quizzical expression.

 

Quackity shrugged at him, but said, “He’s human.”

 

As the effects of sleep slowly ebbed away, George took in his surroundings. He was in a bed, surrounded by chests that lined the walls, a few furnaces, and on the far wall, a doorway that led to a staircase. He didn’t recognize this, but he guessed it was Quackity’s home. 

 

Clutching at the covers, George looked around for his bag. He wasn’t wearing his goggles and he felt naked without him. Open for people to read his emotions. He wasn’t sure how to act, either, since Quackity had momentarily dropped his facade. So there was a bit of care left in him.

 

“Where am I? Where’s my bag? How long have I been asleep?” George sat up, grabbing Quackity’s arm to help pull himself up.

 

Quackity put his hand on top of George's. “Hold on, give yourself some time to really wake up. I’m pretty sure you’re sick or something.”

 

George pulled his hand away. “...Or something. Yeah. Can you answer me now? I’m fine.”

 

This time, the green human guy cut in (George wasn’t sure how he was supposed to address him). “You’re in Las Nevadas, Quackity’s country.”

 

George swung his head over to look at Quackity again, pulling his hand away. “You have a country too? Was that your big project?”

 

“Surprise.” Quackity stood up, no longer kneeling at his bedside. “This is my storage room, below the needle. And, uh, here’s your bag.” He held up the brown satchel.

 

After putting his goggles on, George asked “And how long have I been asleep?”

 

“About five days. Look, George, there’s something seriously wrong with you, I don’t think I can let you visit the prison in good conscious—”

 

“Would you shut up about that?” He pulled the covers off and stood up, putting his bag on. 

 

George didn’t mean to put so much bite into his voice, but he was starting to get irritated. He should’ve felt relieved that he didn’t have a nightmare or any sort of weird dream, but he had them so constantly that he felt empty without one. Like he was missing some sort of important information. Really, he should’ve felt relieved that he wasn’t asleep for that long, but it just didn’t make sense.

 

Everything had a pattern, a standard that was met time and time again. That was what happened when George was stuck in his sleep spells. He could expect it. But when things changed, he was losing the little bit of information he had. George was used to knowing very little about the events happening around him. He wasn’t used to knowing absolutely nothing, especially when it came to himself.

 

He looked over at Quackity and the green man. The latter seemed to be pulling pieces of slime off of him, tossing it into the air, and then letting it land back into place. The former stood with his arms crossed, a frown etched into his face.

 

“I’ll visit Dream for you.” It was the only way he felt like he could grab his fate by the reins. 

Notes:

Hey!! How about that! omg c!dnf meet up soon?? lmao we're about to reach that nice thick plot. Also, just want to let you guys know that I will delve a little bit into the story about other characters, despite this fic mainly being Dream and George centric. I just can't help myself.

I'll probably post the next chapter in about a week, maybe on Wednesday this time.

Once again, you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (art acc), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 4: George POV

Summary:

George visits Dream in prison

Notes:

Hello!! Happy Wednesday (or whatever day you're reading this on)! I edited this while watching one of Tina's vods so hopefully I didn't miss any mistakes O_o (goes into my bbh arc).

Anyway, enjoy :D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The prison was a menacing force and nightmare material. Made out of the darkest and most formidable resources, plus all of the high-level security meant that no one could get in or out without Sam’s permission. And George had gotten just that. 

 

Just the thought of seeing Dream again caused waves of emotion to crash and mix within him. On one hand, he wanted to see Dream so badly that he would probably take the opportunity to pull him into a crushing hug and rub his face into Dream’s shoulder. He missed his friend so dearly. But on the other hand, he was completely and utterly terrified. George wasn’t sure if the man he was about to see in there was remotely close to the one he used to know. 

 

George passed through the doorway, running his hand along the side. The portal wasn’t lit, leaving the room dark. He walked slowly toward the button on the wall next to the portal frame, ready to press it, but his communicator buzzed in his pocket. He hadn’t used it this much since the beginning of their community, back when Sam first built them. And speaking of Sam, he was the one who was sending him messages. 

 

Are you at the prison entrance yet? Press the button next to the portal when you’re ready.

 

George chewed on his bottom lip. This was his last chance to back down. His last chance to continue sleeping away his problems. He rested his hand on the stone button, cold to the touch. Maybe the prison would be just as cold inside. Just as cold as Dream himself. 

 

He shook his head. George couldn’t let himself think about that if he was going to go through with it. He was going through with it. The button clicked as he pressed it into the wall. 

 

Within moments, the portal lit, casting a blue glow against the walls. George knew it was actually purple, remembering the time that Sapnap and Dream teased him about calling it blue. Maybe if things worked out… they would let Dream out of the prison. And he’d let the two of them tease him all they wanted. Maybe…

 

George needed to stop thinking about these things and just do what he was here to do. 

 

As George went through the portal, he felt like his whole body became slush. It was the same feeling when DreamXD teleported him around and he did not like it. He didn’t know how everyone could use the portals all the time for travel without vomiting after a few goes. 

 

Heat pressed against George as he moved away from the portal, a clear sign he was in the Nether now. His communicator buzzed again with a new message from Sam. 

 

Go through the portal again. It’ll connect you to the prison now. 

 

George wiped off the beginnings of sweat beading on his forehead as he stepped into the portal. Here we go again. 

 

Feeling a little disoriented, George leaned on the wall as he exited the portal. He pulled a bag of herbs out of his satchel and contemplated them for a second. After he scoured Karl’s library for a few hours, he learned they were supposed to help him stay awake if he smelled them. Though they had some side effects—

 

“George?” Sam stood behind the lectern, pulling some papers into a stack. “Are you okay?”

 

George curled his hand that was on the wall into a fist. It was now or never. He unzipped the bag and held it up to his nose. The sharp smell hit him instantly, causing tears to form in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, but ultimately felt more awake. Hopefully, this would stop him from passing out while in the maximum-security cell. 

 

There was a shuffling sound, which George guessed was Sam making his way over. He didn’t want Sam to know he was taking some sort of drug. That probably wouldn’t put him in good favor with the warden. 

 

Quickly wiping the tears from his eyes, George turned to face Sam. “I’m good, I’m good. It’s just traveling by portal.”

 

For a moment Sam had a soft look on his face, one of worry. That was probably reminiscent of the time they lived together. But soon, his face became stone. His eyebrows leveled out and the care left his eyes. The gas mask on his mouth covered the lower half of his face, but George assumed that his mouth was set straight. That was a new addition Sam had made to his outfit since George last saw him. It made him look intimidating. 

 

“Right. I remember.” Sam hefted his trident to his side and gestured to the lectern. “There are a few books I need you to sign.”

 

George stuffed the herbs back in his satchel and then went through all the procedures at the front desk, including locking his items away. Well, aside from his bag that now only held an empty book and quill. Soon after, George was following Sam through the intricate prison, admiring all the mechanics it took to operate. He almost couldn’t believe Sam built it all by himself. 

 

As they made it to the final stretch, Sam did one final body search. 

 

“Sam… I’m kind of nervous,” George admitted. “I haven’t seen Dream in a long time.”

 

“I’ll be right outside the cell if you need help,” Sam said, patting down George’s legs. 

 

“That’s not what I mean. Well, that is reassuring in case he…” hurts me. Tries to kill me. Is much more evil than I thought . George tried to shake away those thoughts. “What’s making me nervous is that I don’t know how to have a conversation with him. Not anymore.”

 

“That’s okay. You’re not here for conversing, you’re here to get the revival book.”

 

George worried his bottom lip. Maybe that wasn’t his only goal. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore, but hopefully, at least one visit would bring him some clarity. 

 

They walked into the last room, now only a wall of lava separated George and Dream. A simple flick of a lever, and they’d see each other. He was so close. George swallowed thickly, rubbing his palms on his jeans. 

 

“I need you to step on the stone bricks.”

 

George glanced over at Sam, glad to be wearing his clout goggles because they hid the fear in his eyes. The bubbling feeling in his stomach could only be attributed to fear; there wasn’t anything to be excited about. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the lava to fall. 

 

As a last attempt, George tried to bring up the memories he had of Dream. Late nights on the roof of the community house. Taking day trips to fish out in the middle of the ocean. Swimming in the lake around the house. Caring for Beckerson. He winced at the last memory, remembering how Sapnap said Dream wanted Beckerson for control. 

 

He shook his head. Remember. Remember Dream. Your Dream, he thought. His hair shone golden in the sunlight, his green sweatshirt that was hard to distinguish from yellow. His lean body from hours of running through the forests surrounding the community house. Hours he spent with George and Sapnap. 

 

Remember his face. His face—

 

George snapped his eyes open. He didn’t remember Dream’s face. 

 

The lava began to lower. The top of the obsidian cell was now visible. 

 

George grabbed at his own face. The memory of Dream showing his face to George, where they sat in Dream’s room one night. The memory—it was gone. 

 

Dream turned to face the room George and Sam stood in, his cracked smile mask staring back at them. 

 

George caught his breath. He stumbled as the platform began to move toward the cell, his mouth opening almost to plead for Sam to stop it. He wasn’t as ready as he thought he was. 

 

But now the platform was over the lava, heat rising as bubbles formed and popped, sending droplets of lava upwards. And Dream was just staring at him as the light from the lava glinted off his mask. George never really thought Dream’s mask was scary. Not until now. 

 

The platform slammed into the edge of the cell, tossing George forward slightly. He grabbed onto the netherite wall to steady himself. Behind him, he heard the platform return to its original position across the lava pit. 

 

“So that’s why they moved Techno out this morning. I was feeling a little jealous.”

 

Dream. That was Dream’s voice, but not exactly. Something was missing. The regular joyful cadence was absent, instead replaced with a deeper tone, rough around the edges with something hidden within. At this point, George couldn’t tell what. 

 

George looked up at Dream, taking his new appearance in, damaging his old memories further. Dream’s hair was longer now, just above his shoulder. It had gotten darker, too, whether it was dirtier or lost its shine from lack of sun. Cracks littered the edge of his mask; one long one reached out toward the middle like a gnarly old branch of a tree. His hands were covered in scars, and as far as George could tell, they probably trailed up his arms. He wore an orange jumpsuit with a patch on his left breast: 001. 

 

“Although, I’m not jealous now that I get to see you,” Dream said, stepping closer to George. 

 

The netherite wall lowered as if making way for Dream. He walked around George like he was his prey, looking him up and down. 

 

“You’re different.”

 

“I’m different?” George clutched at the strap to his bag as he tried to follow Dream. “You’re a completely different person!” He bit his lip at his outburst; he hadn’t meant to do that. 

 

Dream stopped and stood up straight, now taller than George. “George.”

 

“What?” He stepped backward, wary of the lava pit behind him. 

 

“George.”

 

“Dream?” He stuttered out. 

 

The aforementioned pulled George into a hug, squeezing him around his middle and tucking his head over George’s shoulder. 

 

George froze, one arm out to the side as his other was pinned to his chest. “What are you—what are you doing?”

 

Dream pulled away and breathed out, “You finally came. I missed you.”

 

His face grew hot, but surely that was just because of the lava around them. “I—yes, Dream, I’m here.”

 

Turning to face the back of the prison cell, Dream threw his arms in the air like some sort of victory. He looped around, stopping to rest his hands on the sink. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

 

An “Oh,” was all George could manage. He rubbed the back of his neck and walked further into the cell. Dream almost seemed like himself. It was like George got hit with whiplash. He expected Dream to be depressed or resentful—some evil culmination that would leave blinking red arrows at a sign that told George to never come here again. 

 

“I have so much to tell you.” Dream looked back up at him again. “Listen, about everything—“

 

“I’m here to get the revival book from you.”

 

Dream stumbled backward and everything was reversed. Dream was pale and thin, lacking his usual sunkissed tone. His shoulders were hunched and tense, bearing the weight of all his sins. He clutched at his mask, nails making a scratching sound that made George wince. George could feel his analytical eyes search his body again. 

 

“You brought a bag with you. What’s inside?” The last sentence was delivered more like an order, rather than a question. George was going to tell him. There was no other outcome to this. 

 

He scrambled to undo the latches to his bag, pulling out the leather-bound book. “Look, this is just to take notes, maybe to write down the details to the revival book.” George’s voice came out shakier than he wanted. 

 

George caught a sign of relief flow through Dream as his shoulders relaxed. “Did Quackity put you up to this?”

 

“How did you…?” 

 

Dream mumbled something too quiet for George to hear. Then, he spoke louder, “I’m not going to give you the revival book. If I do, you’ll just leave and be done with me. That’s your plan, isn’t it?”

 

Truth be told, that was part of George’s plan, but that was only if things didn’t go well and Dream was as evil as everyone pointed him out to be.

 

Heart pounding in his chest, George tried to speak clearly and smoothly. “No, Dream, and I thought of something already. We can do a page a day. Or even less. Whatever you’re willing to do as long as I get all of the information in the end.” 

 

George hoped it would be at least a page. He didn’t think he would have it in him to visit Dream so much. Dream was starting to scare George, and he was feeling less and less in control. In the past, when the two hung out more often, Dream would often win their sparring matches. Even though he was weaker now, George was sure that Dream could still overpower him, especially with his… violent tendencies.

 

Dream froze. He probably wasn’t expecting this offer, and that was just what George wanted. The less time that Dream had to think about it, the better. 

 

“Dream, I need you to answer me now or I really won’t come back.”

 

He took in a sharp breath and walked toward George. “I need some time to think—”

 

“Now.” George set his jaw. He didn’t want to be cold with Dream. Everything his memories told him said that they were friends and every interaction was supposed to be filled with warmth. Even if it wasn’t, there was comfort and forgiveness that was bound to follow. But George couldn’t let there be room for manipulation. 

 

Dream grabbed the book in George’s hand and opened it, looking at the blank pages. “I’ll… write something if you talk to me. A real conversation.”

 

This is what George was afraid of, but he nodded anyway. He was going to figure out what was happening to him. He knew Dream was a part of the solution or at least a means to the end. 

 

“All of this—“ Dream gestured with his arms spread wide, still holding the book— “was for you.” 

 

“The prison was for me?” George raised his top lip and drew his eyebrows in. If George was meant to be the main prisoner, this really wasn’t boding well for Dream.

 

“No, not the prison. I mean, I was trying to bring harmony back to the Greater SMP! So we could be one big happy family!”

 

George vaguely remembers saying that once, but it became twisted in a game of wars and power. They were a family once, sure, but it’s diluted now. Too many people were added, George could agree with that. However, that didn’t mean that the others needed to be removed from the picture or controlled until they fit. Dream didn’t understand that. But maybe he could learn.

 

“Dream, I didn’t ask for this.” He pulled the quill and ink from his bag, holding it out to Dream. 

 

Setting down the book and grabbing the items from George, Dream said, “But you wanted it.”

 

“I wanted us!” George’s face burned at the statement. “I wanted me, you, and Sapnap, and Sam, and Ponk, and Callahan, and Bad… we’re a family. We were a family.” He whispered the last sentence. “Then when we tried to add new people, you tore yourself out of the picture.”

 

Dream tightened his hold on the quill and ink, bunching the strands of the feather together. “Tommy just-“

 

“I don’t care what Tommy did.” George pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Why do you care so much about his every move? Why don’t you care about me?”

 

“I do .”

 

“Then show it.”

 

Dream turned away from George. He could hear a few scratching sounds of quill on paper. Dream was writing something. When he tried to peek at the paper, Dream faced him again, extending the book to him. 

 

“Page one.” The eyes of his smile mask bore into George, the mouth seeming to taunt him. 

 

George’s mouth hung open slightly. The thing that Quackity has had trouble with getting for the past five months, George got in a day. Well, a part of it, at least. 

 

“They might try to hurt you if you don’t get results,” Dream said. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”

 

 

After recounting a few details of the visit to Sam, George made it out. He breathed in deeply and let his posture slouch. There were going to be more visits. George wasn’t sure if he could handle it all. He pulled out the bag of herbs again and stared at it. He needed to find more. 

 

Just as he put the herbs away, George’s communicator buzzed in his pocket. It was Sapnap. 

 

Hey, man, can you come to Kinoko Kingdom? I need to talk to you. 

 

George bit the inside of his cheek. The herbs were wearing off and he didn’t know if he could make it in time. He typed out his response, Actually, can you come to where I am?

 

Sure, where?

 

The prison. 

 

A minute went by before Sapnap responded. A whole minute where George wished he didn’t say anything. Sapnap had always been pushing him to visit Dream and now he had. What was Sapnap thinking about it?

 

I’ll be there soon. 

 

George padded his way over to the shore, careful to not slip on the sand. Some time ago, someone decorated the beach, so he figured he should put it to some use. It was a shame it didn’t have the best view, though. He sat down on one of the beach chairs and set his bag in the sand. Maybe he could nap for a few minutes. If he’s not too tired, someone should be able to wake him up.

 

Just as he closed his eyes, he heard Sapnap screaming at him. “GEORGE!”

 

He lifted his head and turned to see Sapnap running across the beach. His white bandana whipped in the wind as he ran, wearing a tank top and shorts. Waving his hand in the air wildly, he continued screaming George’s name. Sapnap must’ve left in a hurry to get here this fast.

 

Why did he keep screaming his name? He could obviously see he was there. George stood up and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Honestly, he was uneasy about talking to Sapnap right now. Despite being a few years younger than him, Sapnap had this uncanny ability to read emotions but also ignore them at the same time. AKA, he was blunt with his observations, whether that was for better or for worse.

 

As soon as Sapnap got to George, he leaned on his knees, and in between breaths, he said, “George, it’s been— huff —too long.” He stood up straight and smiled.

 

George wrapped Sapnap into a hug and rested his head on his shoulder. A second hug today, but this time it was out of comfort. The younger man smelled like wood smoke and sweat, which was a usual thing for him, but also helped George calm down even though Sapnap stank.

 

“Woah, okay, a hug.” Sapnap accepted the hug and supported George’s weight. He patted the top of George’s head a few times. “I’m fine with that, but you’re not usually a touchy person. Was… visiting Dream that bad?”

 

“It’s like I don’t even know him anymore, Sapnap,” George said, squeezing his eyes shut. He told the story again, a summarized version, this time for Sapnap. 

 

Sapnap’s face was mainly void of emotion as George spoke, only occasionally lowering his brows. Whatever Sapnap was thinking, he was surely conflicted.

 

“At some moments, he seemed like himself. But there’s something else there,” George finished.

 

“I know. I’m sorry I kept pushing you to visit him.” Sapnap leaned away a bit, trying to look at George. “He seems different from when I visited him a few months ago. Even then, he didn’t actually speak.”

 

George rubbed his eyes and was surprised he hadn’t started crying at this point, but his eyes were too tired to do anything. “It wasn’t really you who pushed me. Quackity asked me to go. That’s why I was getting the revival book.”

 

Sapnap tensed and slipped his arms away from George. “You’ve been talking to Quackity?”

 

“Only in regards to visiting Dream. Why?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

It wasn’t really nothing. George knew about the situation Sapnap and Karl had with Quackity, but he guessed that Sapnap was trying to keep his attention on George. 

 

“Anyway, why did you want to talk to me before?” If Sapnap wasn’t going to take the chance to change the subject, George would.

 

Sapnap’s eyes widened like he had forgotten. “There’s a god waiting for you in Kinoko Kingdom.”

 

“DreamXD.”

 

 

Sapnap helped George go back to Kinoko Kingdom, but after that, he promptly left. George was afraid that DreamXD had gone back to his threatening tactics. 

 

The god sat on the dragon statue in Kinoko Kingdom, one leg crossed over the other. He was almost like a statue himself as George made his way over. His cloak shifted as the wind passed through it, his hood uncharacteristically up. DreamXD didn’t usually wear it that way; it made him look less like Dream. 

 

“George.”

 

The aforementioned man fiddled with the strap to his satchel. Now that he had heard Dream’s voice recently, the world felt like it was tilted on its side. 

 

“Dream…XD. Did you want to see me?” He swallowed hard. 

 

“I missed you.”

 

“You missed me…” George trailed off, looking out to Kinoko Kingdom. “That’s it?”

 

“Do I need a reason?”

 

George bit his tongue, trying to hold back the bile rising in his throat, trying to ignore the steadily growing darkness in the corners of his vision. “DreamXD… what do you look like under your mask?”

 

The god titled his head to the side but didn’t say anything. 

 

George wanted to know so bad. It was always an itch in the back of his mind he could never scratch. It only got worse after seeing Dream. The memory was just gone, and he didn’t even realize it until he was about to face Dream. And if DreamXD sounded like him… looked like him… they should have the same face. 

 

He reached up to DreamXD’s face and pulled down his hood. Yes, there was the familiarity. The old shine that Dream’s hair used to have, cut short and trimmed neatly. Then George rested his hands on the strap to the mask behind the god’s head, the cool metal of the latch sent ice through George’s veins. He lifted the clasp and grabbed the XD mask from the god’s face. 

 

Underneath the mask was a gaping hole. A dark pit in the exact shape of the mask. The sight made George stumble back, dropping DreamXD’s mask on the ground. His feet reached the edge of the pedestal to the dragon statue, threatening to send him off the edge. 

 

The effects of the herbs were wearing off. He couldn’t stop himself from tumbling off the platform, only to feel arms beneath him. The black void of DreamXD’s face was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness. 

Notes:

Do you ever just write something and your own writing gives you chills?? Yeah, that was me when I wrote the ending of this chapter. The idea that DreamXD doesn't have a face beneath his mask sort of came from an art piece that I saw of Dream back in May (idk if you want to look for it, it's by areksucks on insta) but slightly changed and also for DreamXD. In XD's case, it's more so because George doesn't remember Dream's face, and George is the source of DreamXD's appearance in this fic.

Anyway, socials: you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (art acc), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 5: Dream POV

Summary:

George continues to visit Dream in prison.

Notes:

Hi, I'm posting this without editing it again (I already edited it a few days ago, but usually I check again before posting (I might end up going back and editing this if there's anything wrong with it)). Anyway, this chapter is a lot. Like, I think it's the longest chapter so far (not sure, haven't checked). Some of it was annoying to edit so hopefully it flows well enough towards the end.

Also, thank you for reading this far and I hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dream stared at the lava wall, watching as it slowly fell into the pool below it. He was starting to regret it being built. It was meant for Tommy. It was meant for Tommy. It was meant for Tommy. He tangled his fingers through his unkempt hair. Dream wanted to rip his hair out. 

 

“You good, bro?” Technoblade looks back up from his book, reading one of the many things Dream has written in his time here. “You don’t look so hot.”

 

“How could I not be hot? We’re encased in a box surrounded by lava on all sides.”

 

“Haha,” he deadpanned. 

 

Dream started to tap his nails on the ceramic exterior of his mask, letting his fingers catch on the cracks. No, he deserved this. The way that George had looked at him was eating away his insides. And he didn’t have much left in him to be eaten up. 

 

George was Dream’s one real weakness. Sure, he couldn’t really handle it if Tommy was gone… but the two were different. George wasn’t really someone to play with. They had a life before. One filled with joy, trust, and honesty; they were equals. And every time George had said Dream’s name, it felt like a warm wave washed over him. Dream would do anything for him. 

 

That’s why he knew he had to do whatever it took to change George back to his old self. That was it. Everything was better before.

 

A piece of Dream’s mask crumbled off after playing with it for a while. He stared at the small crumb on his finger for a few seconds, rolling it around and then flinging it into the lava. 

 

He needed to see George again. Dream stood up and made his way over to the chest in the corner, digging through until he found the old picture at the bottom. One of the few things he had kept was a picture of him, George, and Sapnap from the beginning of the SMP. Dream stood in the middle with his arms around George and Sapnap, all of them were smiling. Well, at least you could see Dream smiling if he hadn’t scratched out his own face a few months ago.

 

This particular picture was one of Dream without his mask. When he was collecting everyone’s possessions, he found the picture in one of George’s old chests. It wasn’t long until he went into a manic episode and scratched out his own face, though. It was for the same reason he hadn’t taken off his mask in a while: he didn’t want to see his old face. These versions of Dream were not the same.

 

Dream fiddled with the edges of the picture, folding the corner back and forth. Would George like to see this? Or would he hate it, not being able to overlook what Dream’s done to it?

 

“You’re freakin’ me out, Dream.”

 

He looked at Technoblade, trying to convey his emotions through pure vibes. “You’re annoying me.”

 

Technoblade closed his book and made his way over to Dream, standing right next to him. “What about George’s visit suddenly made you like this? You’re actin’ like he brought you a metal filer in a cake for you to break out.”

 

“That wouldn’t even be of use here.” He shoved the picture back in the chest and crossed his arms. 

 

“See, look, you’re participatin’ in my banter! Usually, you just toss the nearest thing at me!” 

 

“That’s still an option.”

 

“I missed so much when I was in the courtyard.”

 

Dream ground his teeth. He remembered how Sam had built that against Dream’s insistence. But now that he was a prisoner here, he didn’t even get to go there. He was going to get out of here, one way or another. 

 

“So, when are we breakin’ out?”

 

Dream’s mouth dropped open, almost afraid that Technoblade had somehow read his mind. Then, after gaining composure, he said, “George didn’t say anything like that.”

 

“Bummer.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Dream walked to the back of the cell. Unfortunately, he was starting to view Technoblade as a friend, whether he wanted to or not. Everything he taught himself before—to not get attached to anyone to maximize his power—was losing its hold on him now that he’s literally been stripped of his possessions and power. He missed getting attached to people and things. George reminded him that. 

 

And now Technoblade was starting to inch into that category. How dreadful. 

 

Suddenly, the two heard clicking sounds from outside their cell as the lava began to lower. At the opposite side, Sam stood at the lever, holding it down. Quackity was on the platform with a sword and axe strapped to his back. 

 

Dream’s body jumped into action, scrambling to pull himself as close to the lectern in the corner as possible. He tucked his legs into his chest, hoping he could hide. The hair on his arms stood up on their ends, tangled through the scars that cut through his skin. The scars that Quackity gave him. 

 

Why the hell was he here? Dream thought that George was supposed to be visiting now. 

 

The platform shuffled over the pit of lava, Quackity smiling as devilishly as ever. Many people had brought up that Dream’s smile mask was unsettling to them, that they could never look at the emoticon the same way again. For Dream, that was Quackity’s signature smile—a bracketed smile. 

 

He remembered when they used to joke sometimes, about Quackity being “Mexican Dream.” He would draw a smiley face similar to Dream’s mask on a sticky note and plaster it in his face. The only difference was that he never drew the mouth in a curve.

 

Now, Dream could attribute that same smile to Quackity’s real one. 

 

As Quackity exited the platform, he stuck his thumbs into his front pockets. “Good morning, gentlemen!”

 

“It’s morning?” Technoblade questioned. He still stood at the front of the cell, still not afraid of Quackity, unlike Dream. “Weird. I think we should have a clock.”

 

Quackity smiled, showing off his gold tooth that replaced his canine. “Dream already made that decision for you two; criminals don’t deserve to know the time of day.”

 

“You literally just told us the time.”

 

“Techno, I don’t think you know how this works yet,” Quackity said, stepping into his personal bubble. It was a strange sight, considering he was so much shorter than Technoblade. It was almost like a chihuahua trying to be intimidating to a wolf. All bark and no bite. But Quackity had quite the bite and a big appetite; Technoblade just chose to ignore it. 

 

One of the main points of intimidation he had for himself, apart from his blatant confidence and social intelligence, was his scar. Dream was sure that it worked on most people (hell, it worked on Dream), but Technoblade was the one who gave it to him. Not only that but the two were probably matched in confidence, and that was all Technoblade needed. 

 

“Yeah, probably not.”

 

Dream’s breath caught in his throat at Technoblade’s nonchalance. He tried his best to tuck himself closer to the wall, flinching at the sound the lectern made when he accidentally bumped into it. 

 

Quackity snapped his attention away from Technoblade, over to Dream. “Now you’re the one I wanted to speak to.” He levels his eyes at him—one a dark soulless brown, the other a milky white with a scar crossing through it. 

 

“Quackity,” Dream stuttered out. “What’re you—what’re you doing here?”

 

“I just wanted to have a little chat.” As he made his way closer to Dream, Quackity folded his arms behind his back, tapping his fingers a few times against his sheathed sword. “I heard you opened up to George, gave him a page of the revival book.”

 

“And?” 

 

“I wanted to know why George is so special. Why did you listen to him and not me?” Quackity’s shadow rested on Dream as he blocked the only source of light. 

 

Dream swallowed, finding his mouth dry. Because George isn’t a piece of shit? At least, that was what he’d say if he had the confidence, but Quackity was standing above him with two very sharp and deadly weapons. He wedged his knees under the lectern, hoping that it could somewhat shield him if Quackity decided to get violent. 

 

And like the predictable man he was, Quackity unsheathed his sword. “How do I even know you’re looking at me? Why do you wear this mask?” He reached out to Dream with his non-dominant hand, his fingers hooking under the ceramic face. 

 

Before Quackity could lift it, Dream shot out his hand, grabbing Quackity’s wrist. Dream could’ve sworn he saw fear ripple across Quackity’s face in a split second; his mouth opened slightly, his eyes widened as if his life was flashing before him. But then it was gone. 

 

“Dream?” He said through a laugh. 

 

No one had seen Dream’s face in a long time, not even himself. The last time… was probably Tommy, when he took two of his canon lives. That was about five months ago. Before then, Dream hadn’t seen his face since probably the second destruction of L’Manberg. Maybe it had something to do with not being able to look at himself when he did such terrible things, but he didn’t really want to think about it. 

 

Quackity pulled his arm away, wiping his wrist on his shirt like Dream was filthy. “I just wanted to make sure that you’d continue to talk to George. Give him the information we need.”

 

Dream cast his eyes to the floor, watching as the purple substance flowed through the cracked obsidian. 

 

Quackity faced Technoblade and said, “You’re coming with me. You can stay in the courtyard until Dream is done.”

 

“Pog.”

 

After that, the two of them left on the platform, leaving Dream all alone, sitting on the floor of the cell. He stretched his legs out in front of him. Quackity was threatening him without hurting him now. George probably doesn’t know the details of the prison, the way that Dream is treated. And if he did, there was a chance he would stop coming because he wouldn’t want to help Quackity anymore. But in the end, that means he would stop visiting Dream. He had to make sure that George didn’t find out, or else he’d earn double the pain.

 

The platform shuffled to life again, this time carrying George. He smiled weakly at Dream as he clutched the bag on his shoulder.

 

Dream was going to keep seeing George, even if it meant that he had to do things he didn’t want to do.

 

 

“And you remember when you thought I had turned into a chicken?” The feather in Dream’s hand hovered above the page after he punctuated another sentence in the revival book. “I was just hiding in the wall of my bedroom, but there was a chick on my bed.”

 

George frowned. He was sitting on the chest full of books, leaning his back on the wall. “I was just humoring you. I didn’t actually think you had turned into a chicken.”

 

“But it was funny.” Dream shook his head and then turned his attention back to the book. “Plus, I know you would’ve hated it if I was actually gone.”

 

Dream’s statement hung in the air like a noose. He didn’t mean to bring it up like that, but if George responded to that, it would show how much he cared about Dream. Then he knew that he had a chance to maybe get out of prison if George was resourceful enough. They could talk plans and Dream could direct George on how to prepare—Dream’s writing hand froze, halfway through writing a sentence. He couldn’t do that. This was George, not some person to use. Besides, he was here to get the revival book.

 

That was why George was here, after all. It had been around three weeks since George’s first visit, and Dream had already written a few pages to the revival book. At first, George and Dream barely talked. The first day had really dampened the mood, and Dream was sure that George was afraid of him. But slowly, things started to seem normal. Well, normal for being in prison.

 

George only visited a few days a week, the other days he was probably sleeping. Dream vaguely remembered what XD had said, “forced to sleep his life away.” Every time George left for the day, guilt stewed in Dream’s stomach like rotting garbage. If for some reason George ended up using the revival book, he would never forgive himself. DreamXD’s deal echoed in his head every time he thought of it.

 

“You know,” George began, “I was dreading visiting you.”

 

Dream froze, bending the hairs of the feather in his grip. “What?”

 

“No, no, I mean-” George slid to the edge of the chest, his shoes scraping the floor. “I was afraid of speaking to you after so long of us being… apart.”

 

“And I did terrible things.”

 

“Yeah, that too,” George said, adjusting his goggles.

 

“And I was terrible to you.”

 

Dream watched as George’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He knew he was making George uncomfortable, but Dream was really letting the regret get to him.

 

“Would you ever be able to trust me again?” Dream asked, setting the book to the side.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Those three words sent an ice spike through Dream’s chest. He knew he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, but he could hope. And even though the words were full of uncertainty, it wasn’t a definite no. 

 

Dream went back to writing in the book, trying to ignore the uncomfortable situation he created. He ruined everything he touched; if he wasn’t careful, he was going to ruin George. For some reason, he didn’t want to be careful, though.

 

“Could you try?” Dream looked at George, watching for any sign of indication in case he stayed silent again.

 

George tensed, his nails digging into the lid of the chest. “I think you’ve done enough writing for today.”

 

 

“Dream, let go of me.”

 

Dreams fingers tightened on George’s thin wrist as he struggled to pull away. Dream hadn’t even finished a page of the revival book today and George said he was leaving, too tired to continue.

 

“Please don’t go, George, I can still write more!” He insisted, reaching for George’s bag. “You can take a nap in here while I write more.”

 

George tried to pry Dream off with his other hand, grunting when he found that Dream wouldn’t budge. “I don’t care about that, just let me leave!”

 

“Okay, so you don’t care about the book right now,” Dream pulled George closer. “Let’s just forget about it entirely!”

 

“What?” George’s eyebrows lowered behind his goggles.

 

“We can talk about breaking me out instead! And we’ll destroy anything you want.” Dream smiled beneath his mask as he grabbed George’s other wrist. “We can start with Tommy’s house, maybe Eret’s castle, Snowchester—or Kinoko; you’ll be free of its ties! And everything will be back to what it used to be.”

 

George screwed up his face, and Dream knew his eyes were devoid of kindness at that moment. “Dream, I have to go!” He tried to turn and face across the lava pit. “Sam!”

 

“Wait, wait, George, please-”

 

“Sam!”

 

Images of Tommy flashed through his mind. Tommy on the ground, barely able to hold himself up as Dream bashed his head in with a potato. The blood got everywhere. The walls, the floor, his hands, his clothes. And then Tommy’s lifeless body, growing colder by the second. Dream stained the pages of the revival book with blood as he wrote. For a moment, Dream had regretted it. Only until power surged through him as he revived Tommy.

 

He could do the same with George here.

 

The thought made Dream fling himself away from George, scrambling as far away from him as possible. “Leave, George.”

 

He would give anything to see George’s eyes right now. Dream needed to know if they were fear-filled. He needed to know what George looked like when he thought Dream was a monster.

 

And seconds later, the platform was retreating back to the main prison. 

 

What was he thinking? What was he thinking? What was he thinking? Dream clawed at his mask, letting his nails catch in the cracks.

 

Dream didn’t even notice Quackity had walked into the cell until he was standing right in front of him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

 

Dream’s chest heaved with his breaths, pounded with the beats of his heart like his body was begging to be torn apart. He shot up and grabbed Quackity’s collar. He was able to get in two good punches before Quackity knocked Dream’s head against the wall. Dream’s teeth clamped down on his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

 

“You think you can do anything against me?” Quackity wiped his mouth and pulled the shears from his belt. “You. Are. Powerless.”

 

Dream thinks he deserved this. 

 

 

The cuts on Dream’s arms are stinging again. He tries his best to keep his movements slow and minimal, tries his best to only move his hand as he writes. Any extra movement could reopen his wounds that were finally starting to scab.

 

George stood on the other side of the cell, no longer sitting near Dream. All because of last time. George probably hated him. 

 

Dream remembered Quackity’s words as he had torn a particularly deep cut through his shoulder, “Maybe I’ll get George to help me next time. Press a blade against your throat.” He had held the dagger against his throat, though not enough to break the skin. The blood already on the blade smeared on his neck. “Can you imagine George laughing as he got to slit your throat?”

 

Dream’s hand began to cramp, and just as he shifted slightly, his sleeve caught on one of the cuts. He hissed in pain as he got it unstuck, but it continued to hurt. 

 

At that moment, George glanced at him, the lava glinting off his goggles. And then he jumped. “Dream?”

 

He blinked a few times and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” He looked back down at the book, but then saw that a red splotch was starting to form on his sleeve. “Oh.” 

 

“Are you okay?” George stuttered, hesitantly walking over. He held out a hand, almost touching Dream. 

 

Dream bit his bottom lip, trying to not burst out all of his secrets. He flinched as George moved a little closer, fingers brushing his sleeve. Just that movement caused Dream to release his bottom lip in favor of a sharp breath. 

 

“Can I…” George looked to where Dream’s eyes would be, but of course, he’s only met with his mask. However, from this proximity, he could see George’s eyes. His shaded brown eyes, furrowed eyebrows, lips turned into a frown. Dream took it all in. 

 

Looking away, Dream nodded slowly. Quackity’s voice was in his head again, “You caused him so much pain, I think he’d enjoy returning the favor.”

 

George pulled up his sleeve, careful to make sure it didn’t catch on each cut. He sucked in a breath at the damage. Dream’s arms were littered with scars. “I was afraid of this. When I first saw the scars on your hands, I thought they might go further up. Dream, how far does it go?”

 

Dream shrugged. He wasn’t exactly lying, just not giving him all the information. Usually, after Quackity visited, Dream would get a new set of prison clothes because the others would become torn and stained. George didn’t need to know that. 

 

“This looks fresh; they can’t be old ones from before prison.”

 

Great observation, George. Dream might have laughed if the situation wasn’t grim. 

 

“Did you do this to yourself?” George wouldn’t stop looking at him with those eyes. Dream was starting to wish that he didn’t get this close to him, even though he had been wanting him here. 

 

“No.”

 

“Then… Techno? I thought you said you two were friends—“

 

“It was Quackity.” Dream ripped his arm out of George’s hand, then dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut. That hurt too much; emotionally and physically. 

 

“No,” George laughed out. “That can’t be right. Quackity—Quackity never said anything about hurting you—“

 

“He does it all the fucking time, George!” Dream curled his hands into the fists. “He only stopped doing it recently because I was cooperating with you. And then the last time you came…”

 

Quackity was going to kill him this time. Dream was dead for sure. Or at least he would wish he was. It was an unspoken thing that Dream was supposed to keep hidden from George; George wasn’t supposed to know it was Quackity, at least. Everything was going to crash and burn.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“George, it wasn’t you. It was my fault, I misbehaved. Besides, you didn’t know.”

 

“But I should’ve!” His voice broke at the end, something that would’ve made the old Dream laugh. But this was George. And Dream has changed across the months in prison, stewing with his regret, burning with his scars. 

 

Dream looked up at George as he was wiping tears away, his palms pushing up his goggles. His hands missed one tear and it trailed down his cheek, rolling beneath his chin. 

 

This situation was messed up. George was crying because Dream was hurt, and he didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dream was supposed to have all the answers, be the strongest, know exactly how to solve every problem. This was too much. 

 

No, he needed to calm down. He had to believe that Quackity was just trying to get under his skin. George wasn’t out to hurt him.

 

“George.” He reached out and grabbed George’s wrist. “Let’s… focus on the smaller things first, okay?”

 

“Like fixing your arms?” George sniffled. 

 

Dream smiled weakly, matching his mask. “I don’t know how much we can do about them.”

 

“Um, right.” He looked around the cell for anything that might work. “Well, we can wash off the cut first. How clean is the water?”

 

Dream shrugged. 

 

“Let’s try it anyway. Here.” George stood, holding his hands on Dream’s waist to help him up. 

 

The two of them walked over to the sink and George began to cup water and pour it on Dream’s arm. Every drop was agonizing, causing Dream to push his head into his own shoulder. His mask dug in uncomfortably, but he was hoping it would balance out the pain. 

 

“Oh, uh, we don’t have anything to dry it with.” George glanced at him before looking back at Dream’s arm, the blood starting to resurface. “Maybe I should get Sam?”

 

“He’s in on it, too.” 

 

Dream remembers when he learned that when he first called Sam for help. He remembered his own screaming reminding him of Tommy. But Quackity was welcomed into the prison with his weapons. Welcomed to torture Dream as long as he wasn’t killed. 

 

“But I know Sam, he would at least help with this. Just… let me try?”

 

Dream swallowed thickly but nodded anyway. They had to build up trust again somehow. 

 

So he watched as George left on the platform again, holding his bag snugly to his chest. They exchanged small waves, but George would be right back. He’d be back with supplies. Maybe some alcohol and bandages. 

 

A few moments later, Dream watched as Sam came over on the platform, holding a first-aid kit. He was alone. 

 

 

No matter what, Dream couldn’t get that day out of his head. George was so kind and gentle that day. He was so worried about Dream. And then he didn’t come back until a few days later like everything that happened didn’t . It was like a sick twist of fate that kept widening the wound in Dream’s heart. 

 

How was Dream supposed to trust George again?

 

George only reserved two looks for Dream now: a closed expression that Dream knew was purposeful, with thin lips that were sometimes pulled into his teeth as his eyebrows fell beneath his goggles; and then there were the moments that George thought Dream wasn’t looking, where pity rested on his face and George’s posture sagged, his hands clasped together in his lap. 

 

Dream wanted the George who laughed loudly and teased people. Now he was getting the other half of George who acted like he didn’t care but really did, except he lacked the usual enthusiasm, his joking tone. This reminded Dream of XD’s version of George and it made him sick.

 

Running his finger up and down the strands of the quill, Dream found himself opening his mouth to speak. “George, can you stop looking at me like that?”

 

“What?”

 

Dream gestured with his hand, the bandages on his arm crinkling. “You’re secretly pitying me.” 

 

He could almost imagine George’s voice saying, “I’m not,” but George stayed silent instead. So, that was really what was happening.

 

“Why? If I’m such a terrible person, then why are you pitying me?”

 

“We’re friends, Dream! What else do you want me to do?” George threw his arms out to the side as he walked across the cell. He stopped, facing away from Dream, and crossed his arms. “Besides, you’re not the only person who’s done terrible things.”

 

Dream’s jaw tightened. What did he mean by that? Did George mean that he himself did, or everyone in the SMP in general?

 

“You and Technoblade are the only people in the prison and I know worse things have happened,” George continued. “You don’t think that’s suspicious at all?”

 

“You’re just now realizing that?”

 

George’s shoulders flinched, but he ultimately relaxed as he turned back to face Dream. “I’m not the most informed, give me some credit. Besides, hasn’t Technoblade told you what Bad did? He was going to kill all of us.” His fingers dug into his arms.

 

“Even so, no one else has come close to what I’ve done.” Dream looked back down at the book in his lap.

 

“There’s always room for growth, Dream.”

 

 

“You have so many books in here,” George said, shifting through the chest. “How have you written so much?”

 

Dream extended his leg, kicking George’s foot. “Stop looking through the small amount of possessions I have. Anyways, what else am I supposed to do in prison?”

 

“Fair enough.” Despite what Dream said, George continued digging. “What? This one’s written by Tommy.”

 

Dream didn’t really mind George looking at all the books; it wasn’t like he wrote down all his deepest darkest thoughts. Technoblade also used the books, so he wouldn’t be able to hide anything. Besides that, Dream would let George see everything about him if it meant they would trust each other more.

 

Trying to ignore all the noise George was making, Dream continued to write. He flicked the quill into a curve and punctuated another sentence. “Return flesh and blood, return the transparent to corporeal. Let their faces be seen,” the text read. As Dream prepared to write the next sentence, George spoke up.

 

“Hey, Dream… what’s this?”

 

Dream glanced at him, then did a double-take. George had the photo of the Dream Team in his hand. George’s eyebrows had disappeared behind his goggles, his lips pulled tightly together.

 

“That…” Dream couldn’t find the right words to say. Hey, I stole that from your house a long time ago and then scratched out my own face because I can’t stand to look at it! No, that wouldn’t do.

 

George looked at the picture again, flipping it away from Dream. His fingers ghosted over the dark scratch marks that crossed out Dream. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “We took this after we finished the aquarium in the community house.”

 

Dream swallowed. 

 

“Where did you get this?” George continued.

 

“It was in your underground house, left in one of the chests.” Dream held his breath. 

 

How was George going to react to that? Should he have lied? What could he have even said to make it sound better? If that was something George wanted, he could have it back. Dream was done stealing what people held most dear to them. At least, he could never do that to George.

 

“Did someone else cross out your face?”

 

“No. I did.”

 

A pause. Dream watched as George’s grip on the photo tightened, edges folding.

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t deserve to be shown standing next to you and Sapnap. I hate looking at myself. I’m sure Sapnap hated it when he visited me, too. He hates me.” The ghost of words laid empty in the air, You hate me .

 

“Sapnap doesn’t hate you.” George’s eyes didn’t leave the picture.

 

“He said he’d kill me himself if I ever left prison. He said I belonged here.”

 

George’s jaw tensed. Did he agree or not? Could he just give Dream a sign of how he felt?

 

No, no he couldn’t. Because that’s how George was. He never let anyone see his important emotions, his deepest thoughts. He used to let Dream see them, but those times have long passed.

 

George walked over to Dream and picked up the notebook. “I think I should leave for today.”

 

 

There they were again, George sitting on the chest, watching as Dream filled out the last information needed for the revival book. Part of his attention was on writing, the other part was thinking up a plan on how to get George to continue to visit. But every avenue led to a dead end. Nothing would work out. 

 

Sometimes, he was sure that George wouldn’t leave him behind, but George could be so unpredictable. During these moments, Dream found himself in a pit of doubt, letting his anxieties eat away at him.

 

Dream tried to control his breathing as he finished the last letter, a character that looked like something dripping from a ceiling and wrote in punctuation. The last word was death. “Let these words reverse death.” Or, at least that’s what it roughly translated to. Old languages were hard. 

 

The book was finished. Dream’s deal with George was over. The deal…

 

Dream ducked his head and held the book out to George. As George grabbed it, they were momentarily linked by the book. And then it slipped out of Dream’s grasp. George opened it, flipping through the pages. He sighed and stood up to leave. 

 

George paused at the edge of the cell, not saying anything. He didn’t call for Sam, didn’t say goodbye to Dream. His back was rigid, his hand gripped his bag tightly. If Dream had to guess, George was trying to find a way to cut things off now. A way to never see him again.

 

“Is that all you needed me for?” Dream asked, trying his best to not let his desperation seep through his words. “The revival book?”

 

“No, Dream I would never—!” George turned to face Dream. He tilted his head to the side as he amended, “Well, sort of, but not—“

 

“But what now? I did what you wanted; what Quackity wanted. That’s it?” Dream splayed his fingers on his chest. He didn’t want George to just toss him to the side now that he didn’t need him anymore. 

 

George rubbed the back of his neck. Dream could tell the heat was getting to him, both from the lava behind them and the heat of the situation. Sweat beaded on his face. “Let me finish, Dream! I’ll visit you again—“

 

“You’re lying!” Dream gripped his mask, pulling it from his face. The leather was so worn on the strap that it didn’t take much for it to come off anymore. He needed to let George see his face. He needed George to see him. “I’m the source of all your problems. Don’t pretend you want to be here.”

 

As Dream clutched his mask to his chest, he could feel George’s eyes all over him. Dream’s bangs fell into his eyes, where his mask had apparently held it back, but he didn’t try to fix it. 

 

“What’s your plan for me, huh?” Dream didn’t know what he was thinking anymore. He was too afraid to listen to rationale. “Are you going to take my final life?”

 

George flinched at his words, stepping back slightly. 

 

“Are you going to torture me, like Quackity?” Dream continued, closing the distance between the two of them. And then his worst fear crossed his mind: “Are you going to leave me alone? Never visit me again?” 

 

“No—“

 

Dream didn’t want to listen to him speak. Everything was going to happen just as Dream imagined it, even if it was everything he hated. He dropped his mask and grabbed a fistful of George’s shirt, slamming him into the wall. The force of it caused George’s goggles to fall off his face, clattering to the floor. 

 

Dream couldn’t even let himself look at George. He looked at his own hand twisted in George’s shirt as he said, “Don’t ever use the revival book, George.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean—“ George stuttered out, trying to gain purchase on Dream’s grip. 

 

“I’m serious.” He clenched his teeth as he let go, casting his eyes to the floor. 

 

George shuffled over to his goggles, where it had landed right next to Dream’s mask. Both of their possessions were cracked. A few pieces of the lens had crumbled out, leaving a hole in the center of one of them. Dream watched as George’s pale hand picked them up gingerly. 

 

“Dream…” George’s voice was uncertain. Of course he didn’t know what to say. Dream was a monster. 

 

Dream took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to play games anymore, George.”

 

“I thought you changed, Dream.” There he was again, George was using Dream’s name to wiggle into his feelings. Just the use of his name was enough for Dream to lift his head. 

 

“When you cared more about having power than our friendship. When you took away my kingship. When you planned on taking the things that people loved just so you could control us… it hurt. It hurt me.” George drew in his eyebrows, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “And then I saw you getting better. What is this? It’s not that hard to be good. You can change.”

 

Dream felt something inside him snap. The strings of his heart were pulled so carelessly taught, plucked and played with like they meant nothing. He didn’t like having all these extra feelings towards people, especially when it wasn’t reciprocated and he got hurt. Why did George keep doing this to him?

 

At that moment, he knew what he was going to do. Dream had made two deals these past two months. One with George, and one with DreamXD. Dream was going to show George exactly what that was. If George thought Dream was a monster, he was going to be a monster. 

 

As per the god’s deal, the revival book could no longer be used unless there was an exchange of life. If there wasn’t a designated person’s name written in the book for the exchange, the user would lose one life instead. 

 

As far as Dream knew, George still had all three. Dream only had one. 

 

“It’s easy for you to say.” Dream wrapped his arms around himself, his last ounce of care trying to hold him back from what he was about to do. “When you change, you can change for the better. When I change, I only become worse.” Dream ground his foot into his mask, causing it to crack into smaller pieces. 

 

George helped Dream blow up L’Manberg the first time and slept during an election that destroyed it the second time. Yet people don’t see him as a villain. He changed and helped people. Of course, George was perfect. People loved him.

 

He stormed over to George, letting everything out. George wanted to know everything, he was going to get it. After all, if Dream continued his plan, his consequences would never come. 

 

“I used to be just not good enough! Not for Tommy, not for Sam, not for Sapnap—! Just not good enough for you!” Dream pointed his finger into George’s chest. “You stopped coming around, never hung out with me. Do you know what that did to me?” 

 

George’s eyes were wide with fear. This must’ve been what he looked like before. Every time Dream had ever scared him, this is what he looked like. Dream drank it all in. 

 

“But now-“ Dream grabbed the shoulder strap to George’s bag. “ Now , I’m not good at all!” He ripped the bag from George, and the latter fell to the ground from the force. 

 

And now Dream had the book again. He pulled it from the bag and looked at it for a few seconds. “The Revival Book” was written in George’s neat handwriting, but the pages were filled with Dream’s messy handwriting. George was perfect, down to every detail. 

 

And now Dream was going to kill him, take every life away until he was completely dead. And then he’d bring him back to life. Dream would let that power surge through him a final time, and that power would take his last life in return.  

Notes:

So how about that cliffhanger, huh? So nice. I wonder what's gonna happen. Just kidding, I know exactly what happens because I already wrote that entire chapter, I'm just wondering if I should post it sooner than next week... hmm. And considering the next chapter is the shortest out of all of them (barely above 1k words) I could post it sooner, like Friday or Saturday. Or, I could post two chapters on Wednesday next week. We'll see lmao.

Btw some of these scenes were inspired by Spinel quotes from the Steven Universe movie (since I originally drew them with a sound clip on tiktok). It's just in the last section of the chapter though.

Once again, you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (art acc), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 6: George POV

Summary:

George leaves the prison with a warning.

Notes:

Hello hello hello everyone! I'm here early with a short chapter (about 1200 words) since I left the last one off with a cliffhanger.

My class was canceled today, so I've been spending it writing and watching Philza stream botw (lovely game, I just love all the zelda games (although skyward sword is my favorite)). It just makes me want to draw Link because wow he is gender envy. Anyway. That's not what you guys are here for. Right, chapter 6, enjoy!

EDIT: hi I'm reposting this chapter because I'm an idiot and forgot to paste the chapter into the rich text box and instead pasted it into the HTML one. My italics. They. They were gone. FU-
It's fixed now lmao

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

George’s elbows dug into the obsidian floor, the purple substance burning into his skin. He hadn’t known what to say through Dream’s entire monologue, fear freezing him in place. He couldn’t even stop Dream from throwing him around the cell as he pleased. Where was Sam?

 

Now Dream stood above him, holding the revival book above the lava. Dream had told him all that was needed to use it was to burn it. But that would mean…

George mentally shook his head. Dream couldn’t kill him. Well… no, he wouldn’t.

 

Dream was a terrifying sight, though. Now that his mask was gone, George could see exactly how rough of a state he was in. His bangs were so long that they covered his eyes, but a bruise was visible beneath his left eye. His chin was covered in a short beard with a large scar cutting through it. The scar traveled across his face like a strike of lightning, matching the way his mask was cracked before. It was probably from his fight with Tommy.

 

Just as George was taking it all in, Dream started to laugh.

 

“Huh?” George wasn’t expecting that.

 

“This is funny, right?”

 

No, Dream, this is literally terrifying. Or, he would say that if he was in a joking mood and wasn’t frozen in place.

 

“We used to spar all the time, and you’d end up on the ground, just like this. At least back then, you cared about me. You actually used to like me… didn’t you? We were friends.” Dream’s voice broke as his hand began to shake, the weight of the book pulling it down.

 

George sat up, thinking of anything to say. He’d always care about Dream. Even when he acted like this… he didn’t want him to die. Sure, he deserved to feel some of this regret, to feel the consequences of his actions, but there was a limit to that.

 

Dream swiped at his eyes with his free hand. “What am I doing? Why do I want to hurt you?” A tear made it past his hand and disappeared into his beard.

 

“I’m supposed to be your friend. I just want to be your friend again.” Dream dropped to the floor by George, letting the book slip from his hand.

 

That broke George out of his stupor. He slid closer to Dream, placing a hand on top of his. “Dream… I’m going to give you space. I can’t be here while you’re like… this.”

 

“I know.” Another tear rolled down his cheek.

 

“I’m going to come back, I promise.” He slowly reached for the revival book and pulled it into his lap.

 

“Don’t come back, George. If you do, I’ll kill you.”

 

“Dream—“

 

“I’m only warning you this once.”

 

 

George decided to not tell Sam about the interaction with Dream. He only said that the revival book was finished. But when Sam offered to bring it to Quackity, George refused and said he would do it himself. But the truth? George wasn’t ready to let go of the book yet.

 

There was something off about it all. George pulled the book out of his bag as he walked away from the prison. Dream told him to not use it like there was something wrong with it. It’s not like George could figure it out, though; he couldn’t read whatever language it was written in. He put it away again.

 

Right then, George was walking around aimlessly. He just felt lost. Dream poured out his feelings to him, only to tell him to never visit again. And honestly? That just made George confused.

 

That was more emotion he had seen out of Dream ever and it didn’t really make sense to George. He must’ve thought that something really bad was going to happen, and it was honestly terrifying. What did he know that George didn’t?

 

As he was passing through the tree farm, DreamXD floated out from behind a tree.

 

“Surprise!” The god held out all his hands as his mask spun around like a wheel. When George just grumbled, he said, “Did I do it right? Why are you not happy?”

 

“I’m lost.”

 

“You are at the tree farm.”

 

“I’m lost emotionally, DreamXD.” He stumbled on the god’s name, instantly thinking of Dream again.

 

The god followed George over to the cat café, holding his hands together like he was worried. “You were at the prison today. Did everything go okay?”

 

“I don’t know.” George pushes open the door to the café. Maybe he could find some leftover sweets. With no one manning it, he could just take what he wanted. He opened a few cabinets, but it was all basically empty except for a bag of sugar and some eggs that were probably rotten.

 

“Is this about Dream? The one you keep mistaking me for?”

 

George sighed. That should be enough for the god to get an answer.

 

“He is not the most charming,” DreamXD offered. “He is a monster, after all.”

 

George whipped his head up at that. “Well, you’re not the most charming yourself, XD,” he snapped. “And Dream isn’t a monster, he’s just been through a lot.”

 

“He hurt a lot of people.” The god floated over to George, cupping his face with careful hands. “He hurt you.”

 

George rested his hand atop DreamXD’s. A part of him imagined it was Dream’s hand, but he quickly ignored that thought. “I need to give him a chance, though. We’re friends.”

 

The god moved his hands to George’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. “We are friends, George! How much terror can someone reign before ‘being through a lot’ is not a worthy excuse?”

 

George tensed his jaw. He didn’t know. But this was Dream they were talking about; he couldn’t toss him aside like that.

 

“I’m going to visit him again, XD. And I’m breaking him out.” George left the café and passed the tree farm before the god caught up with him.

 

“I am afraid I cannot let you do that.” DreamXD reached out and pressed his thumb against George’s forehead, and George collapsed as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

 

It was such a strange sensation, like millions of electric shocks running beneath his skin, starting from the point on his forehead. It was so powerful, he felt like he should’ve been able to see light dance across his vision. But everything was pitch black.

 

George took a few steps, but nothing registered through his body. Sure, he could see his feet moving (across what, he had no idea), but he couldn’t feel it.

 

“DreamXD?” He called out into the void.

 

“Consider this your punishment.”

 

George spun around a few times, but the god was nowhere to be seen. Of course. Why would he be? “For what? What did I do?”

 

“You are to stay away from the prison from now on. If you return, terrible things will happen.”

 

George huffed, then ran in a random direction. He had to be able to find something. “That’s incredibly vague. Give more details and I might actually consider it.”

 

“Sweet dreams, George.”

 

When George tried provoking the god to speak more, he was left with no answer. George was alone.

Notes:

woah wa wee woo is DreamXD responsible for George's terrible sleeping habits?? And why doesn't XD want George going to the prison again??? So mysterious lmao.

Anyway, next chapter will be on Wednesday, so look out for that :)

Once again, you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (art acc), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 7: Syndicate/George POV

Summary:

George gets a little assistance with breaking Dream out of prison.

Notes:

Hi! Welcome to the Wednesday update! Today's chapter is split into two POVs: the first one being a small section that's third-person omniscient of the Syndicate members (you'll be able to know the thoughts and feelings of Philza, Niki, Ranboo, and Wilbur) and the second section is George's POV. I had a lot of fun writing Wilbur's actions and dialogue (he's so theatrical lmao) so hopefully, you enjoy that.

It was also awesome when I finally finished this chapter because it was one of the big ones that I planned out when I first got the idea for this fic and it turned into something much better than the original plan.

Also, I'd just like to thank everyone for reading and leaving kudos and comments, it makes me feel very fuzzy inside :]
Without further ado, chapter seven!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Philza pressed the button to summon all the Syndicate members. All except Technoblade. Unfortunately, Philza hadn’t thought of building stasis chambers in the meeting room until after Technoblade left to visit the prison. If only he had thought of it sooner; by now, he could’ve just teleported Technoblade out and left the prison guards living in fear. 

 

Anyway, the Syndicate members appeared instantly in their seats. Ranboo, also known as Lethe, landed in his seat roughly, a sword still in his hand. He looked around frazzled. He was probably adventuring. Niki, also known as Nemesis, shot forward in her seat, gripping the table. She was the first to speak. 

 

“Phi—I mean, Zephyrus, what’s going on? I was in the middle of sleeping.” Her face tints a light shade of pink at that statement. 

 

“Is this about Protesilaus?” Ranboo looked between Philza and Niki as he sheathed his sword. Since Ranboo lived in their snow village, he must’ve noticed Technoblade’s absence. 

 

Philza’s face darkened. “I should’ve gathered you two sooner. Three months ago, Protesilaus was approached by Quackity with a proposition. He visited the prison, but never left.”

 

“So we need to go rescue him!” Niki pounded her fist on the table. She had past problems with Quackity, something that had never been fully solved. Even though Quackity later switched sides in the Manberg war, that wasn’t enough for her. “We can’t just let him be locked up forever!”

 

Ranboo nodded his head. “We need to come up with a plan—”

 

Philza held up a hand, folding his wings calmly behind him. “I already have one, and I finished it today. I only need your approval and if you’ll be coming with me.”

 

The two other Syndicate members looked between each other, having a silent conversation. There wasn’t much debate to be held on the matter; this was their friend they were talking about. 

 

“I’m in,” Niki said. “Anything to help Protesilaus.”

 

“I’m—” Ranboo started, before being interrupted. 

 

“Enough with the code names! Just say Technoblade!”

 

“Wilbur!” Philza scolded. “How did you even get in here?”

 

The man strolled into the room like he owned it. That was how Wilbur often acted after his revival. Now that he had been to the other side, he claimed that he knew much more about the world than anybody did. Even more than his hero, Dream. He pulled off his overcoat and draped it over Technoblade’s seat before sitting in it. 

 

“That doesn’t belong to you!” Niki said. 

 

Wilbur rolled his eyes and slipped off his glasses next. “The man who owns it is in prison. I don’t think he needs it right now.”

 

“Wilbur, um, I don’t think…” Ranboo trailed off into silence as he stuttered. He didn’t think his worlds would collide like this. His boss at the burger van was now sitting in the SECRET meeting room of his SECRET organization. How did he even find this place?

 

“Relax, Ranboo, you’re off the clock.” He smiled as he started to light a cigarette. 

 

By this point, Philza was fuming. He had offered his son a place to stay in his house, not in the Syndicate’s meeting room. Of course, Wilbur wasn’t a part of the L’Manberg that treated him badly, but Wilbur had a rich history of government participation. Hence why he was never invited to join the Syndicate. 

 

“Wilbur, what are you doing here?” Philza asked as he stood and walked over to him. He snatched the cigarette out of Wilbur’s mouth and dropped it on the floor, stamping it out. 

 

He frowned. “I want to help break out Technoblade.”

 

“Why would you even care?” Philza pinched the bridge of his nose. “Last time I checked, he denounced your nation.”

 

“Well, there’s another man I would like to break out of prison.”

 

Ranboo stilled in his chair, then struggled to say, “What?” If it was possible, the white half of his body was starting to look paler. 

 

“You know, Dream?” Wilbur’s face broke into a smile. 

 

Tension filled the group as if just saying his name darkened the room. While they were all anarchists, they knew that there was a line that could be crossed. For Niki, she didn’t want to hurt people, and Dream had hurt many people., including Niki herself. For Ranboo, well, only he knew this, but Dream had been manipulating him from inside the prison. However, Philza didn’t mind him all that much. 

 

“Why would you want to break him out?” Niki asked. If anything, she liked Wilbur even less than Dream, but she would at least hear him out. 

 

“He saved me from death,” Wilbur explained. “He’s my hero.”

 

Ranboo looked like he was having an existential crisis. He stared at the table as he spoke. “He killed Tommy.”

 

“And brought him back,” Wilbur pointed out. “Listen, there’s nothing you can say that will deter me from my goal. Niki, you’ve been holed up in your little underground city, upset over one little tree that you burned.”

 

Niki sputtered at that, but Wilbur continued.

 

“Ranboo, you fled from L’Manberg as it was blown up for the final time, and watched from the sidelines as the world fell apart around you.”

 

Ranboo’s eyes shifted away but didn’t protest.

 

“And Phil, I know you think you’re so wise,” Wilbur said, smiling as he held up a finger. “Hundreds of years roaming this world, dancing with death, creating life—but you’ve never been between that thin line, never spent time with the ghosts that are stuck on the train, never spoken to the conductor. And believe me, I have. I have, and Dream has the power to control the train.”

 

Philza drew his eyebrows in. “So, you pick a fight with each of us and expect we’ll help you? What is this supposed to mean, Wilbur?”

 

Wilbur leaned back as he let out a breathy chuckle. “You’ll need Dream. Whether it’s today, tomorrow… a year from now—it doesn’t matter. And to get him, you need me. It’s simply how things work.”

 

The room went silent again. The unfortunate thing was that Philza knew they would have a much better chance at freeing Technoblade if they had an extra hand. Not only that, but Wilbur was an expert with explosives, whether that was for better or for worse. 

 

“I don’t know if I can help you with that, Wilbur.” Ranboo curled his hands into fists in his lap. His bottom lip trembled as he tried to avoid everyone’s eyes. “I don’t think I could go at all.”

 

Philza reached out a reassuring hand. “That’s okay, the whole point of the Syndicate is that you get to pick your battles and-”

 

“That’s fucked up,” Wilbur cuts in. “You think people deserve to be in prison? I have some of Ghostbur’s memories from when he visited; it’s a nasty place. Plus, I’m probably the only person here that’s technically been in there.”

 

Ranboo shifted uncomfortably in his seat but stayed silent. 

 

“I’ll still go,” Niki said, tilting her head. “But I won’t help you, Wilbur.”

 

Wilbur leaned back in his seat and shrugged. “As long as you guys get me in the prison, you don’t have to help me unless you want to.”

 

“Then it’s settled. Niki, Wilbur, and I will go to the prison to break out Technoblade and Dream.” He folded his hands inside his sleeves and spread his wings, getting ready to leave. “Ranboo, you can man the stasis chambers just in case. That said, everyone refill your chambers.”

 

They stood from their chairs and threw an ender pearl in their corresponding status chambers, all apart from Wilbur, who still sat in his borrowed chair. His bangs fell into his eyes as he looked from person to person, then fixed his gaze on Ranboo.

 

“Now hold on,” Wilbur said, standing. “Ranboo, are you really not going to come?”

 

“I—no, I can’t.” He tightened his jaw.

 

“Come on,” Wilbur dragged out.

 

“N-no.”

 

“Ranboo.”

 

“Wilbur?”

 

“Help us break into the prison.”

 

“Ugh, fine.” Ranboo shifted his supplies on his back, checking through his bag. “I’ll need some more supplies, though.”

 

 

For some reason, everything was pink. Which was weird, because George couldn’t even see pink. The only way he could tell was because of all the pigs that were walking around, which was also weird. Most of the time, George couldn’t tell when he was dreaming, but he knew for sure this time.

 

There were only two problems here: one, George needed to wake up, but he didn’t know how to. And two, he couldn’t remember why he was so pressed to wake up. Because of that, he spent most of his time marveling at the strange dream world. At least it was peaceful.

 

George walked around for a little longer until he found no purpose for it, choosing to sit down on the steps in front of the nether portal. There were a lot more pigs in this area, too. One looked directly at George with his derpy little eyes and oinked loudly.

 

“What’s your problem?” George said to the pig.

 

He wasn’t really expecting it to respond, but the pig spoke English. Or maybe he suddenly understood pig. “George?”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“Why is he just laying there?” Another pig said, trotting over.

 

“Actually, I’m sitting, but-” George was cut off by another pig.

 

“I can try and wake him up by pouring milk on him.”

 

The first pig spoke again, “It wouldn’t hurt to try. As long as he’s not lactose intolerant.”

 

“No, let me just-”

 

George was rudely awakened by someone shaking him. When he opened his eyes, he almost thought he was still in the dream world because the girl shaking him awake had pink hair. Surrounding him were four people: Niki, Wilbur, Ranboo, and Philza. That was an odd bunch to see. Most of them he hadn’t seen since the Manburg war, aside from Ranboo, when he participated in the burning of George’s house, and Niki, who was terrorized by DreamXD once. Although, that could’ve been a dream. It was difficult to remember sometimes.

 

“You guys aren’t pigs,” George said intelligently. What a way to wake up.

 

“Um, no, we aren’t,” Philza agreed.

 

“Gogy!” Wilbur surged forward and pulled George into a hug, which George instantly pushed against.

 

“Weren’t we political opponents a while back?” That should’ve meant that they didn’t get along well, but whatever was happening with Wilbur suggested otherwise.

 

Wilbur, thankfully, let go of George. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re incredibly handsome. Besides, you were barely in the race.”

 

George cleared his throat awkwardly and then turned to address the rest of the group. “What’re you guys doing here?”

 

“We’re going to break into the prison.” Philza folded his wings behind him and slotted his sleeves together so his hands were hidden. “No one deserves to be in that prison except the tyrannous dictators.”

 

“You’re going to free Dream?”

 

“That’s the plan, baby.” Wilbur threw an arm around George, efficiently hooking his neck. “Dream’s my hero.”

 

Once again, George pushed Wilbur off. “Well, that’s perfect because I was just on my way to do that.”

 

Wilbur’s shoulders drooped as he began to sulk in the back of the group. Was he always this unprofessional?

 

“By yourself?” Niki asked. 

 

George looked down at the ground. To be truthful, that was about the only thing he had planned. He didn’t know many people who would willingly help him break Dream out of prison; the main friends he had were hellbent on keeping Dream in there. Even Sapnap, who had been a part of the original “Dream Team,” before everything went sour, said he would personally hunt down Dream if he ever escaped. Then, there was Quackity, who was torturing Dream. George wasn’t sure if Karl remembered who Dream was.

 

But now, a whole group of people had stumbled upon him, all who would probably help get Dream out of prison.

 

“Not anymore,” George said, standing. “I can come with you guys, right?”

 

The group exchanged looks, some of them nodding, and Ranboo, in particular, looking hesitant. Well, he was a hesitant dude.

 

“Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed,” Philza said, resting his hand on George’s shoulder, then letting it fall off.

 

“I can do that.”

 

The walk to the prison wasn’t that bad. It was mostly silent, but not bad. Most of the time, George was watching Philza fly ahead. As soon as they got near Skeppy and BadBoyHalo’s mansion, Philza landed and held up a hand to the rest of the group.

 

“Everyone knows what they’re doing?” Philza asked.

 

George watched as everyone nodded, some of them readying their supplies. George did a double-take when he saw Wilbur holding a few sticks of dynamite. What the hell was he supposed to do with that when most of the prison was fortified with obsidian?

 

George stepped forward slightly to get Philza’s attention. “Uh, I don’t know what I should do.”

 

Philza nodded. “Our main problem was that we originally needed someone to distract Sam. Niki was going to do that with withers… but she’ll do a much better job distributing potions and backing up others as they fight. You’ll be perfect as a distraction.”

 

George slammed his fist into his palm. “Of course! I can do that; I’ve been visiting the prison recently, anyway. But… how are you guys going to get in?”

 

Philza glanced at Wilbur as he nodded. “Wilbur has said that Tommy snuck in once with Ghostbur, using an invisibility potion. Of course, we’re going to take that a step above and I’ll carry the rest of them as I fly. Well, all except Ranboo.”

 

“I’m not going inside,” Ranboo explained, splaying out his hands. “I’m going to be ready out here with a few things and I’ll run to the… uh, place to deploy some stasis chambers if things get hairy.” He folded his hands together and then looked at the ground.

 

Well, that was a little awkward, wasn’t it? If the plan went wrong, everyone but George would be able to get out of there safely as long as Ranboo got to their stasis chambers in time. George would be lucky if Sam went easy on him. Something told George that that wouldn’t happen, though; Sam took his job too seriously.

 

Then, Niki pulled off her backpack, shifting through until she found bottles that looked empty. Of course, George just knew that meant they were invisibility potions. She handed one each to Wilbur and Philza and kept one for herself.

 

“Just go do what you usually do, George.” Philza uncorked his bottle and tipped his head back like he was taking a shot. Wilbur and Niki followed suit. 

 

And just like that, the three of them were gone. Ranboo held up his communicator as a wave and awkwardly shuffled away. 

 

George took a deep breath and walked over to the entrance building to the prison, pulling out his communicator to message Sam as a heads up.

 

Hey, I realized that I’m missing some info for the revival book, can I come in the prison? George reread it over and over, much more than he would’ve if it wasn’t an act. He shook his head and sent it anyway. He needed to make sure the group’s invisibility potions didn’t wear off prematurely.

 

Sam replied immediately. Of course. Let’s make this quick, though, it’s getting late.

 

George almost had the instinct to wave around his arm to check if the group was following him, but he held himself back. He had never actually checked if there was some sort of surveillance system in the exterior part of the prison. Hopefully, they were following him into the portal.

 

After a few seconds, he passed back through. Sam, as always, stood at his podium, ready for George to sign his book. 

 

“As I said, I’d like to make this quick.” Sam walked out from behind the podium, grabbing the signed book. “You don’t need to drop off your bag as long as you let me check it first.”

 

George gave his satchel to Sam, his breath catching when he watched Sam’s hand pass over the revival book. Apparently, everything seemed fine to take. Sam trusted him. And now George was going to feel bad when he broke that trust.

 

As Sam gave George his satchel back, he said, “Let’s take the guard’s way. It’s faster.”

 

Things were too good to be true; it was almost like everything was falling into place, or the mechanics of actually breaking through the prison would be annoying for the author to plan and write out, so they didn’t. George blinked. Where did that thought come from? 

 

“Why are you in such a hurry? If you don’t mind me asking.” George followed Sam as he opened different sections of the walls, leading him down a maze of corridors. 

 

Sam used another key card and looked back at George with a soft expression. When Sam was on the job, he took everything seriously and he was stone-cold. But now, everything had fallen away when he took in that question. “I have a date with Ponk. It’s really important that I get this right.”

 

George’s stomach churned. He was about to ruin Sam and Ponk’s date night. George gripped the strap to his satchel tightly, his knuckles turning whiter than white. Philza, Wilbur, and Niki better be following him. If the plan was ruined, no one would be happy. More likely, a lot of them would be dead.

 

After one final doorway, they were facing the lava wall. George took a deep breath.

 

“Relax, George. This will be your last visit.” Sam was probably trying to give George a reassuring smile since his eyes were squinted a little, but his mask covered his mouth.

 

Little did Sam know, George wanted this to be the last time because Dream wouldn’t be in prison after this. But Sam didn’t need to know that just yet.

 

“Hopefully.”

 

“Let me deliver Techno to the courtyard first, and then I’ll send you in with Dream.” Sam operated the levers and then stepped onto the platform as the lava began to fall.

 

Inside the cell, Technoblade and Dream looked up. Dream wasn’t wearing his mask, likely because it got crushed last time, but he hadn’t gotten a replacement. Guess they don’t hand those out in prison. But because of that, George could see Dream’s frown. Last time, Dream said he’d kill George if he came back. It was time to see if that was true.

 

Sam went across and came back with Technoblade. The whole time George watched, he felt ansty. When was it going to happen? When were they going to grab Technoblade? Were the three of them even here? George mentally shook his head. He needed to focus on Dream.

 

As Technoblade passed him, George decided to give him a wide smile. Things were about to change for him. Technoblade raised an eyebrow at George, but let Sam lead him away. Hopefully, Sam didn’t think the exchange was strange.

 

The two of them left around the corner to go to the courtyard. And then someone dropped a hand on George’s shoulder, causing him to jump.

 

“What the fu-”

 

“Calm down, George,” Wilbur whispered in his ear.

 

George spun around and backed away from where Wilbur’s voice was, wide-eyed, trying to look for him even though he was invisible. “Don’t tell me to calm down and then whisper in my ear.” George tried to not be loud, but he was startled.

 

“Sorry,” Wilbur said. “Let’s get across the lava pit.”

 

“How?” George whispered back. “You can’t operate the levers without a keycard.”

 

“I don’t need one.”

 

George heard the strike of a match and saw a floating flame. Huh. And then he heard the hissing of TNT as Wilbur tackled him to the ground away from the explosion. George was pinned to the floor, unable to move because Wilbur was so heavy.

 

“Get off of me!” George struggled. He didn’t care if he was yelling now; if Sam heard him screaming, that meant he definitely heard the explosion, and at this point, it wouldn’t matter.

 

At that moment, Wilbur’s invisibility potion wore off. He smiled smugly as he held himself above George. “Never thought we’d be here, George.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“George?!” Dream yelled from across the lava pit. He was standing at the edge of the cell now, probably confused as hell.

 

Wilbur quickly rolled away from George and stood up, picking up all the debris from the explosion. Just as George had thought, everything was reinforced with obsidian, but everything that wasn’t obsidian was now at their disposal. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Wilbur to make a small bridge across the lava.

 

The two of them hurried across to get Dream, who was sputtering a bunch of nonsense now. 

 

“Dream, relax, buddy.” Wilbur did the thing where he hooked his arm around Dream’s neck, which was easy for him because Wilbur was slightly taller. “We’re busting you out of this sad place!”

 

Dream looked back and forth between Wilbur and George, his mouth open but nothing coming out. George nodded slightly. Guess Dream wasn’t going to kill him. That was good to know.

 

“George.” Dream stepped towards him, almost reaching out, but not quite knowing what to do with his hands. “I told you not to come back here.”

 

George smiled wryly. “I won’t come back after today, promise.”

 

“Enough with the soft emotions,” Wilbur said, stepping in between them. “We don’t have time for this. Come on.”

 

The three of them crossed over the bridge, making their way down the stairs. After a few steps, Dream began to stumble and George grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Their eyes connected for a moment before George glanced down at Dream’s hand, deciding to help pull him along by his hand. He couldn’t let Dream get left behind.

 

Things come to a halt when they face the lava hallway.

 

“How are we supposed to get past?” George looks over at Wilbur, who was shuffling through his coat pockets.

 

“Everyone huddle close.” Wilbur raised a bottle in his hand, then threw it down to the floor. The glass shattered, skittering across the floor as the contents splashed across the three of them.

 

George instantly felt his skin start to cool down as orange bubbles rose from his arms. 

 

Wilbur waded into the lava first, tossing his head back to say, “Good thing Niki gave me some potions before we split up.”

 

Realizing that their hands were still linked, George hesitated to go through the lava. He wasn’t sure if it would make it harder or easier for them to pass through it. “Will you be fine going through on your own, or should I…?”

 

Dream looked down at their hands. George’s hand was so pale and smooth compared to Dream’s, which were scar-covered. “I think I can make it, but just in case?” 

 

They make their way through the lava, George leading the way. Once he reached the other side, he climbed up over the edge and pulled Dream up after. Wilbur waited on the other side, tapping his foot on the ground.

 

Biting the nail of his thumb, Wilbur said, “We have to meet up with Phil and Niki and get out of here ASAP.”

 

Once again, they were traveling down the hall. George was starting to worry that Sam overpowered Philza, Niki, and Technoblade, but he had to focus on making sure he and Dream didn’t trip over each other’s feet. Besides, Sam was only one guy; three versus one wasn’t good odds for him. Sure, there were other guards, but they were rarely on the job. The other three would be fine.

 

Once they made it to a closed door, the prison alarms began to sound. George winced, pulling his hand away from Dream’s to cover his ears. A headache panged in George’s head, threatening to split his skull open. He could not fall asleep here. 

 

Just as George pulled the bag of herbs from his satchel, Wilbur was striking another match to blow up the door in front of them. Then everything slowed down. George’s fingers were heavy as he tried to pry open the bag, slow to lift it to his face, slow to react when Wilbur bumped into him as he backed away from the explosion.

 

Slow to realize that the bag slipped from his hands, spilling on the floor as Wilbur was distantly yelling to keep running. Shit, shit, shit, shit . That was the only bag he had with him. George knew everything was going too smoothly.

 

Of course, that was the moment that things took a turn for the worse.

 

George tried to follow Wilbur and Dream down the halls, but the noise was getting to him. The constant wailing of the alarm, the explosions, Wilbur’s orders; it was too much. His foot slipped, sending him down a few steps ahead of Wilbur and Dream. 

 

And then Dream was in front of him again. Wow, that was a good few seconds that he missed. 

 

Dream gripped his shoulder, looking at George through his bangs. “George, are you okay?”

 

“‘M fine.” George brushed his hand away and tried to stand up straight. “And I will be fine as long as we make it out of here.” 

 

“Come on, love birds,” Wilbur said, pushing through them to get to the bottom of the steps. “We need to meet up with—”

 

Philza, Niki, and Technoblade burst through one of the doorways. Philza flew above, holding one of Niki’s hands while her other was free, holding a crossbow. Technoblade was now holding an axe, courtesy of Philza. He had a wild look in his eyes as his gaze swept across the room, then back in the direction they came from.

 

The two groups met in the middle of the room, briefly exchanging situations. Turns out Sam was scrambling with keycards a few rooms back, but he would catch up any minute. Niki was injured after taking a blow to her left leg (probably why Philza was flying her through), and Technoblade took an arrow to the shoulder (which he promptly broke off, leaving the arrowhead in his shoulder. George tried not to shudder at the thought).

 

“You’re just in time, Phil,” Wilbur said, pointing to the next door. “I can blast us through, but there’s a long room there with no floor.”

 

Philza nodded. This was something they had planned before. Philza would have to fly them across, two at a time. The plan was simpler before when it was only Wilbur, Niki, Technoblade, and Dream who would have to be carried across. But now there was George, making it an odd number and one extra trip. 

 

“Alright, who’s first?” Philza looked around the group. “I suggest Niki and Techno first. Niki is injured and this mission is for Techno.”

 

“Wait, Phil, I can stay over here and fight just in case—” Techno splayed out his hands but was cut off before he could finish.

 

“We can’t risk you.” Philza’s eyes softened, the corners crinkling. 

 

No one else objected.

 

George watched as Wilbur blew up a hole in the large door, letting Philza make the first trip through. As Wilbur stood waiting by the doorway, Dream grabbed his wrist. George glanced down, opening his mouth to say something, but Dream beat him to it.

 

“I need to talk to you for a second.” Dream tugged him over to the wall, ducking his head to begin to whisper. “I need you to go across next.”

 

The sentence sent a jolt through George’s senses. He was starting to get sleepy again, but that brought him a moment of clarity. “Huh? Dream, what do you mean?”

 

He glanced back at Wilbur, then to George, his Adam’s apple bobbing with uncertainty. “You should’ve been on that first trip; I know there’s something wrong with you.”

 

George clenched his jaw. Dream was always too perceptive to let George get away with anything. His heart pounded in his chest. “I told you, I’m fine.” 

 

Dream’s hand slid up from George’s wrist to his shoulder. “You don’t have to keep putting up an act, George.” And then, a tentative hand on George’s cheek.

 

George instinctively leans into his hand, rough but warm against his cheek. His eyes flutter shut for just a moment, the feeling of sleepiness returning. “Dream, I…” As his eyes opened again, they widened. “Dream, look out!”

 

An arrow whizzed past as George pulled Dream to the ground. Dream grunted as his knees folded into his chest, George’s hand pressed into his hair. Sam stood at the top of the steps, the vantage point of the room. 

 

Philza made it back to the room again, quickly scooping up Wilbur into one of his arms. “Both of you, come over here!”

 

George scrambled to get up, pulling Dream with him. Only one of them could go across. One of them had to stay behind, and whether that was temporarily, or forever, George wasn’t going to let that be Dream.

 

As far back as he could remember, George knew that Dream always did everything for him. Kept him safe, got him the things he wanted, did everything a friend did, and more. Dream always humored George, too. A particular moment comes to mind, and his heart softens.

 

When Dream was first building the path that would come to connect all the buildings in the SMP, George had hidden around in the trees pretending he wasn’t there. He had watched as Dream lifted the long planks of wood, muscles flexing and relaxing as he laid them in the dirt. Every once in a while, Dream’s eyes would scan the tree line before hammering the nails into the wood.

 

Dream obviously knew he was there, and he had tried to get George to come out and admit it, but George wanted to surprise him. So when he thought that Dream was least expecting it, he made a loud noise, hoping to startle him. Of course, it didn’t work, but Dream had thought it was funny. 

 

Dream had smiled and laughed. George wanted him to be able to do that all the time.

 

George shoved Dream in the direction of Philza’s waiting hand. “Go. Sam will kill you if you stay behind here.”

 

“George—”

 

“Just fucking fly him across, Phil!” It was no use trying to reason with Dream anymore.

 

Philza listened, grabbing onto Dream before he could struggle any. They flew across, leaving George with Sam.

 

Heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs, stopping only when Sam faced George. His hair was disheveled from his fight with Philza, Niki, and Technoblade. He also had a gash below his left eye, just above his mask. But other than that, he looked relatively unscathed. George should’ve known; Sam was powerful.

 

“George, what are you doing?” His voice was strained with pain. The underlying words rang out like the alarms above them. I trusted you .

 

George’s gut twisted. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam stepped closer, his trident and bow at the ready. “You signed the papers, you know the consequences. You read them to me every visit.”

 

“This is for Dream! It’s always been for Dream!” The words were tumbling out of George’s mouth before he could stop them. 

 

Dream is a monster ! You can’t seriously be doing this!” Sam threw his free hand out to the side. “He’s done so many things, hurt so many people, yet you’re choosing to break him out of prison so he can continue doing that? Do you even know the extent of what he’s done?”

 

George scrunched up his face. He’s already thought all of it through, but he didn’t want to dwell on the details. He just wanted to be Dream’s friend again.

 

“You know, he killed Tommy, after he tortured and hunted him,” he continued, “Tried to control everyone by stealing what they loved and valued. And I think he’s been hurting Ranboo somehow; one time he came to the prison and he looked so terrified—”

 

“Just stop.” George bit down on his bottom lip. He had to believe that the old Dream was still in there somewhere. He looked behind him, hoping to see Philza flying back. He was about halfway across the long room.

 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” George said again because he really didn’t know what to say. “Take a break from the prison. Go on your date with Ponk. Don’t come looking for us.”

 

“You know I can’t do that, George.”

 

Philza grabbed onto George’s hand, lifting him off the ground. Sam held up his bow, but there wasn’t even an arrow knocked. There was no way that Sam could hurt George.

 

 

After the close encounter with Sam, they made it through the prison fairly quickly. Ranboo waited outside with an abundance of milk buckets, passing them around to get rid of the mining fatigue. 

 

Before leaving the area, Niki planted a few withers to stop Sam from following. George watched with drowsy eyes as the skulls stained her fingers with black chalk. They didn’t stay long after that.

 

As they traveled to the snow biome Technoblade and his friends lived in, George and Dream leaned on each other. There had been a bit of debating, but ultimately, Wilbur had made the case to bring the two with them. After all, Sam would at least be looking for Dream. George also didn’t think he would be lucky a second time. 

 

The trudge through the Nether was literal hell, the gaseous air stinging any scrapes on George’s skin. Besides a close call with a Piglin—which Ranboo easily slew—and the crumbling of one of the paths that almost sent Wilbur into the lava, everything went smoothly. And before they knew it, they were in the cluster of houses that made up Technoblade’s land.

 

Begrudgingly, Technoblade brought everyone into the secret hideout of the Syndicate. Yeah, apparently there had been a secret organization of anarchists this whole time. Who knew, right? Certainly not George, who slept most of the time.

 

The group stepped into the meeting room, hurriedly pulling out supplies and pushing chairs together to allow people to lay down. Surprisingly, Dream and George hadn’t gotten hurt. Everyone else, aside from Ranboo who didn’t go into the prison, was injured. 

 

George stood off to the side, watching as Phil laid Niki down over two chairs, propping up her leg. A dark crimson stained through the leg of her pants, dripping down to her ankle. The cloth was torn right below her knee, where the offending wound was. Technoblade sat down in the chair labeled “Protesilaus,” as he cradled his shoulder. His hand was covered in blood, even as he pressed a hasty bandage over it. Philza had minor injuries, but George knew he was probably exhausted. 

 

And Dream… Dream was sitting on the floor in the corner, pressing his face into his knees. He was doing anything and everything to hide his face. Ever since they had left the prison, Dream kept his bangs in his eyes and looked away from everyone when he could. He spent his time scouring their surroundings, checking if anyone was following. George didn’t know what he was supposed to do. 

 

So he sat on the floor next to Dream, tucking his knees into his chest like Dream. He turned his head to the side so his cheek was pressed against his knee. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m not injured.” Dream’s voice was muffled. 

 

George pursed his lips. “Don’t act like that. You know what I mean.”

 

They fell silent for a few minutes, listening as Philza asked Ranboo about gathering materials for healing potions. If Dream wasn’t going to talk, George was going to try and help Philza and Ranboo. He couldn’t stand sitting there and being useless. 

 

Standing up, George made his way over to Philza, who was currently trying to pull the arrowhead out of Technoblade’s shoulder. Technoblade winced at the shift in his skin, the jagged edges of the head catching before any significant progress could be made. He hissed and then moved Philza’s hand away.

 

“Is there any better way to do this, Phil?” Technoblade drew his eyebrows down, making eye contact with Philza. 

 

Philza frowned and looked at all the tools at his disposal. “I don’t know, mate. I’ve never done this before.”

 

George stepped a little closer and almost went pale at the sight of Technoblade’s wound. Though they were constantly wiping the excess blood that came from his wound, his usual pink complexion was an angry red as the skin tore. There was a possibility that that hadn’t been a regular arrow.

 

“Why don’t you try breaking the arrowhead into smaller pieces? Or like in half?”

 

Both of them turned to face George, surprised that he had spoken. The whole walk back, George barely said anything, and most of it was to Dream, but now he was offering his help. Well, that was the least he could do, George thought. They helped save Dream and did most of the actual fighting.

 

“We don’t have something to break it with, not anything that wouldn’t hurt Techno.” Philza pressed a cloth back over Technoblade’s wound as he spoke.

 

Just then, Ranboo walked back into the room, carrying a few bottles of various potions in his arms. As he set them down next to Niki, she waved him off and poured one on her leg.

 

“Ranboo!” Philza called him over.

 

Ranboo always seemed weird to George. Sure, the dude was half Enderman, half who knows what, but he acted strange even for that. For one, Ranboo was a total pushover. George knew that the only reason Ranboo participated in burning down George’s house was that he was pressured by Tommy. And two, Ranboo never looked in anyone’s eyes. Maybe that was an Enderman thing, but it was awkward when an eight-foot-ish man stared right past your face instead of at it. Ranboo should’ve been strong and anything but shy, but he was a big baby.

 

“What’s up?” Ranboo glanced at George just to acknowledge him, but other than that, his eyes were trained on the wall behind them.

 

“Can you and George go look through the chests in the houses for something we can use to break this arrowhead?” Philza gestured to Technoblade’s shoulder.

 

He nodded enthusiastically and motioned for George to follow him out of the meeting room.

 

For the most part, George was trying to pay attention to the layout of the halls as they walked to the exit. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Otherwise, the two didn’t speak much. Ranboo seemed too nervous, anyway.

 

As they stepped outside, the biting cold hit George, making him shiver. He was much more suited to the warmer weather of the Greater SMP and Kinoko Kingdom, so being in an area filled with snow wasn’t his cup of tea. He was still wearing his usual t-shirt and jeans, too, and that didn’t help as the hairs on his arms rose. Not only that, but he swore that the material of the jeans just made his legs colder. 

 

George was glad when they stepped inside Technoblade’s house first since it was already warmer there. He hurried over to the fireplace, striking flint and steel over the wood. In no time, the fire flicked over the logs, crackling and popping as any moisture evaporated in the smoke.

 

“So… Ranbo,” George started.

 

Ranboo whipped his head up, already halfway down the ladder to the ground-level floor. “It’s, uh, Ranboo.”

 

George laughed nervously. It would have been better if Ranboo had a different reaction to that, but it’s okay. This is okay. He’s just a tough audience. “I’m just messing with you. Let’s get looking for useful things.”

 

“Right.”

 

George followed him down the ladder and started to search through the chests. The first thought that George had: Technoblade had too many things. George rarely had any belongings anymore; just enough that he could carry and the few valuables and sentimental items he kept in his enderchest. 

 

One chest was full of turtle shells, causing George to raise an eyebrow at it. Why is this the only thing in here? He glanced down at the label, the word “SCUTE” carved into the side of the chest in jagged letters. Well. That was probably why. But it was one of the few labeled chests that was also organized. 

 

George sat on the floor, instead of resting in a crouch, and sighed. “Ranboo, I don’t know if there’s anything that’ll work in here.”

 

“There’s still a few chests to check.”

 

He sighed again and then scooted over to the next chest. Heh, scoot. Like scute. “You just do everything people tell you to do, don’t you?”

 

When George glanced back at Ranboo, he stopped shifting things through the chest. “What do you—I don’t—what do you mean?” 

 

“Relax,” he dragged out. “I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.”

 

“No, I’m my own person. I just do what I think is right.” Ranboo shook his head and continued what he was doing.

 

“Okay.”

 

George really didn’t mean that as a challenge; he said it with as little emotion possible. He was tired, anyway. But for some reason, Ranboo kept going. “Seriously, even if I’m pushed to do something, I always make it right in the end. I make it right in the end.”

 

“Ranboo.” An itch started to bother George in the back of his head, something that Sam had said earlier.

 

“W-what?”

 

“Have you ever talked with Dream before?” He waited with bated breath.

 

“Not really… I mean, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still looking at the contents of the chest. “Not enough to know much about him. I only know who he is from what other people have said.”

 

“And? What do you think?”

 

“Well, for starters, he killed Tommy and Ghostbur. He tried to kill Tubbo.” Ranboo paused for a moment. “He tried to control everyone.”

 

“Those are the things he’s done, yes.” George slid over to the next chest, resting his hand on top but not opening it. “But do you think he can change?”

 

“I don’t know, George. He’s always been the big villain, the one that everyone mutually hates. We’re supposed to not like him.”

 

George dug his teeth into his cheek. That’s right. Even if somehow Dream was able to change for the better, if he somehow made the effort, no one would trust him. They were lucky that Wilbur made a case for letting them stay with the Syndicate. They would continue to be lucky if one of them didn’t slip poison into Dream’s food or something.

 

“Can you go tell Phil we’re having trouble looking for something in Techno’s house?” Ranboo asked, quickly changing the subject. “We should ask him before we go searching through his belongings, too.”

 

George nodded, standing up to leave. His stomach twisted and turned as he left through the side doors.

Notes:

One of the things I'm very proud of in my chapter is a small little reference I made to Tales of the SMP. You see, Tales is one of my most absolute favorite stories on the DSMP, and I can't help but make a tiny nod to cc!Ranboo's butler character by making c!Ranboo carry all the milk buckets needed for the prison break. It's a small detail, but believe me, that was in my original raw outline that he would do that lmao.

Anyway, look forward to next week's chapter because I have a little surprise that some of you might want to hear if you like Ranboo's character :)

Chapter 8: Dream POV

Summary:

Dream and George have a little talk.

Notes:

Hello! Hopefully, there aren't many mistakes in this chapter because I was editing while watching tubbo's tubbathon (that poor boy, he accidentally trapped himself in a subathon hell).

Aside from that, I hope you enjoy today's chapter :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dream noticed the cold as soon as George left his side. The arctic was already cold enough, but George had been kind enough to stick as close as possible the entire time. But Dream blew it. He must’ve been the king of fuck ups because now he was sitting on the floor alone, with his head tucked into his knees, listening as Technoblade grumbled about the arrow in his shoulder.

 

So it was almost like prison. 

 

For some reason, Dream was feeling completely vulnerable. Sure, he was missing his mask, but come on . Dream used to take his mask off in the early stages of the SMP all the time; he’d let it hang on the side of his face, take it off during meals, and even leave it on the edge of the water when he went swimming. But now it was gone, shattered when he fought with George, and he felt the need to have something shield his face.

 

Dream tightened his fingers around the cloth of his pants, rubbing his thumb and index finger back and forth. He just needed something to direct his nervous energy. It didn’t help that he had nothing to his name beside a dirty orange jumpsuit. 

 

“You good, man?”

 

Wilbur’s voice. Dream didn’t feel like lifting his head to speak, so it came out muffled. “What do you want?”

 

There were shifting sounds beside him; Wilbur must have either sat down or rested into a crouch. “I want to know if you’re okay. You’ve got your head all tucked into your knees and shit.”

 

Dream made a “hmph” sound but didn’t try to further the conversation. If Dream really wanted to speak to someone right now, he would’ve gone to look for George. How was anything about Dream’s position a welcome opportunity to speak to him?

 

Wilbur sighed. “What’s happened to you? Before, you were acting like you were a god. Where’s that energy? The passion?! ” His voice got more intense as he spoke, enough for Dream to imagine Wilbur holding his fist up in the air.

 

“You’ve been alive for, what, about four months?” Dream continued to fiddle with the cloth of his pants. “How do you feel about it all?”

 

“Oh, sure, just dodge my questions, why don’t you.”

 

“I was in prison for what felt like forever, being tortured by Quackity, what do you expect?”

 

“Quackity? Mr. Big Q himself?”

 

That seemed to have piqued Wilbur’s interest, but Dream didn’t want to get into the details. He felt bad enough already and reliving it would only make things worse. “Yeah, so I lost my passion for things, I guess. Now answer my question.”

 

“Well, since you were such a gentleman,” Wilbur drew out. “I feel amazing! Sometimes, at least. Other times…”

 

“What?” Dream lifted his head, trying to make sense of the situation. He needed to know this. It was the itch that was never scratched since he revived Tommy. 

 

Wilbur pulled his lips into a thin smile, then showed his teeth. “Other times, I feel like I’m reliving every death I’ve had. The sword that Punz wrought through me in the Final Control Room, the arrow that pierced my back as I fled from Manberg, and the final one when I asked my own father to run his blade through my stomach.” Wilbur placed a hand on his stomach as if the wound was still there. “Sometimes, I feel Ghostbur’s death, too. I feel the same fear from those moments, along with all the other terrible emotions that came along with it.”

 

“Even Ghostbur’s death… interesting.” The last word caught in Dream’s throat. He hadn’t meant to say that, it just happened. What was going on with him right now?

 

“Of course,” Wilbur continued, “I feel infinitely wiser. I spent about thirteen years in the limbo of a train station, and I learned so much. I’d like to compare notes with you sometime, Dream.”

 

Dream felt bile rise in his throat, watching as a manic flame flashed in Wilbur’s eyes. He was just now getting the chance to take in Wilbur’s appearance; the white streak in his hair, the stray blood (which might have not even been his) on his cheek, his dirty coat, the singed edges of his clothing—he was a mess. But for some reason, he gave the same aura as Dream did. That was terrifying.

 

“Wil!”

 

Both Dream and Wilbur turned to face Philza, who was holding a roll of gauze tape in one hand and scissors in the other. He frowned, glancing from Technoblade’s shoulder to Wilbur.

 

“Where have you been?” Philza set down the scissors, walking over to them. He grabbed Wilbur by the shoulder of his coat, pulling him into a stand. “I told you to come see me after you took a walk outside. Your wounds need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

 

“Jeez, cool it, gramps,” Wilbur joked.

 

Philza huffed as he dragged Wilbur away. “You’re always getting yourself hurt because you forget that you feel pain now.”

 

Wilbur threw his hands up in a shrug. “What can I say, even though being a ghost was pathetic and eternal limbo was full of emptiness, it had its perks.”

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“A lot of things.”

 

Dream clenched his teeth, watching as the two bantered. A lot of things. There were a lot of things wrong with Dream, too.

 

 

After about half an hour, George finally came back with Ranboo in tow. Earlier, Dream heard George talking to Philza about looking for something, he couldn’t remember what, but both of them were empty-handed. Ranboo seemed to be apologizing now, but his voice fell to the background as Dream kept his focus on George.

 

George looked tired. No, maybe that wasn’t the right word for it. Tired was too generous for the way his shoulders sagged, how his body seemed to sway, and when every few minutes he held up his hand to stifle another yawn. If Dream had to guess, George’s eyes were lidded behind his dark goggles. In addition to that, he was letting Ranboo do all the talking. George usually took the initiative for things like that, especially with Ranboo’s lack of social experience.

 

Exhaustion poured off of George like he was standing in a waterfall. Once again, XD’s words echoed in Dream’s head. There was something wrong with George, but Dream had no idea how to help him.

 

After speaking with Philza, George stood in front of Dream. When Dream stared up at him, he knew his eyes were peaking through his bangs. But this was George. He had to keep reminding himself. George, George, George. 

 

“Come on, we’re going to go to a separate room to give them some space,” George said. “We’re just getting in the way here.”

 

“Can we talk, too?” Dream asked as he stood, soon standing taller than George.

 

“Of course.”

 

Dream walked on shaky legs, following George down the hallway. They didn’t go far, just a few rooms away from the meeting room. Inside were a couple of beds and chests, but after quickly checking, they were all empty. 

 

George sat on one of the beds, smoothing out the already perfect covers. Dream followed suit, sitting on the bed directly across from his. For a few moments, they sat in silence.

 

A few rooms down, they could hear a distant yell from, presumably, Wilbur. Dream shifted on the bed, causing the springs to creak. He didn’t really know what to say. Everything had become increasingly uncomfortable for Dream now that he was out of prison, even though it was everything he wanted. It was just that… before George visited, he imagined it drastically different. 

 

Dream imagined returning to the Greater SMP, raising hell once he regained the tools to do so. He would find Tommy and Tubbo, get his revenge, and have Tommy all to himself. And he would have continued his plan to get control. But George changed that, and Dream still can’t figure out if that was for the best.

 

Wilbur was definitely disappointed with how Dream was now. He thought that Dream needed his old motivations and to act like a god. George was probably disappointed, too, but for different reasons. He wanted Dream to go back to the beginning, back to being friends with everyone.

 

Dropping his face into his hands, Dream groaned. He wanted that, too, but didn’t know how to make it happen. Not only that, but it was so much more difficult. 

 

“Are you okay, Dream?”

 

He was asking again. Dream didn’t answer the first time earlier because he was too consumed in his thoughts. He wasn’t okay then.

 

“I don’t know,” Dream said, his face still in his hands.

 

Suddenly George’s hand was on Dream’s wrist, pulling his hand from his face. George smiled nervously as Dream lowered his other hand. Yet, George struggled to look Dream in the eyes. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking? Maybe I can help.”

 

Dream clenched his teeth. Even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if his mouth would let him. The words might get caught in his throat, his tongue might go numb, his jaw might stay too tense to speak. Dream didn’t trust himself to say the right things.

 

But he had to try if he wanted George to trust him.

 

“How do you know how to do the right thing?” His voice shook as he spoke.

 

George breathed in sharply, letting go of Dream. “I don’t.”

 

“Then what—”

 

“I just try not to hurt others.”

 

“That’s not enough direction.” Dream curled his hands into fists, his unkempt nails dug into his palms. It’s always easier to use force, to bend people to your will than to listen to their words. Easier than to build a relationship. Anxiety bubbled in Dream’s stomach as he tried to reassure himself that being with George again was the right thing.

 

“How is that not enough direction? It’s not that hard to be kind.” George’s words were borderline joking as if he didn’t think that Dream was being serious.

 

Dream knew that George didn’t mean it to be antagonizing. He knew. George wasn’t trying to rile up Dream, but that didn’t stop the edge from seeping into Dream’s words. “That’s not true and you know it.”

 

How was this happening? George had offered his help, and now Dream could feel the conversation taking a shift. 

 

“Oh, yeah?” George stood and stepped directly in front of Dream so he would have to look up. There was definitely something that George was holding back, and now he was setting it free. What an awful time to do that, though.

 

They were moving into dangerous territory again. It’s easier to fight. Easier than to find the right words to soothe George’s rightful anger. “Kindness takes effort and work.”

 

“Then do the work!” 

 

Dream whipped up his head. George’s hands were balled into fists at his sides, his arms tense held straight down. There were a few scorch marks on George’s shirt from the events of the prison, but his skin was free of marks. His lips were pulled into a tight frown. And from this angle, he could see George’s eyes squeezed shut from behind his goggles. Even in a fit of anger, George was perfect.

 

“George…”

 

“Don’t even try to say my name like that right now!”

 

“Just look at me, please—” Dream didn’t want anyone to see him, but George had to be the one. George was the first person to see his face after wearing his mask for so long. He was supposed to be the one to always see him, as he truly was. Even Dream himself had lost sight of that. He needed George.

 

“No, Dream, I can’t!” George turned away when Dream stood up, trying to reach for his arms. “Every person I’ve spoken to only has terrible things to say about you. When my only source of information is other people, I don’t know what to think. I’m just stuck falling asleep, in this endless loop where my head feels like it’s constantly floating. It’s sickening.”

 

“But you’re the only one who actually sees me; you said I could change.” Dream wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with his hands. Should he try to turn George around? Rest a hand on his shoulder? Would George hate that?

 

“Dream… I don’t even know anymore.”

 

There it was, the tug at his heart every time George said his name. That warm wave that washed over him was scorching when he said it like that. “I think I love you.”

 

Dream was playing with fire, letting everything fall out of his mouth that might make George understand him. He wasn’t sure if it was working.

 

George’s shoulders tensed. “No, you don’t.”

 

“I have for a while, actually.”

 

“Those were jokes, Dream, you know they were.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

George turned to face him now. He was crying. Dream couldn’t even tell, he wasn’t making a sound. “Because then you would’ve thought about me before you decided to ruin everyone’s lives. You’re bringing this up out of nowhere because you think it’ll redeem you.”

 

“I don’t want my past to define me anymore. I want it to be my future.” Dream tried to cup George’s face with his hand, trying to wipe away the tears, but George pushed his hand away.

 

“You’d have to do something with what you’ve done, then. You can’t just toss it aside and act like nothing happened! Do you need me to remind you what you’ve done? I have people tell me all the time.”

 

“George—”

 

George started pacing away from him, moving further into the room. The few steps he took were uneven, his body slumped as he reached to support himself on the wall. “One, you killed Tommy, tried to kill Tubbo.” Stop. “Two, you’ve obviously done something to Ranboo.” Stop it. “Three, you tried to control everyone.” Please, stop. “Four, Sapnap helped put you in prison, after you kicked the two of us aside.” Please, please, please. “Five, you blew up the community house.” 

 

Dream couldn’t keep listening to this. As he made his way over to George, George’s knees buckled. Dream reached out as fast as his arms would let him, wincing in pain when George’s weight brought Dream to his knees.

 

As George’s eyes slipped shut, he whispered his final words before he lost consciousness. “We built that together, Dream. How could you just destroy it?”

 

“George?” Dream brushed George’s bangs to the side, pulled off his goggles. “George, please say something.” He cupped his cheek, brushing his thumb underneath his eye. George was still breathing, he was just asleep. Dream had to keep that thought running circles around his mind otherwise he might lose it.

 

And in the way that things tend to go wrong, someone knocked on the door as they opened it. Ranboo stepped through, holding a loaf of bread and two bottles of water in one arm, his other pushing the door open. “I, uh, brought you guys something to eat before…”

 

Ranboo’s eyes—one red, one green—shifted across the room until they rested on George’s limp body lying in Dream’s arms. It took him a moment to process it all. The bread and water slipped from his arm, landing with three thunks, and then the water bottles rolled away. His newly free hand clutched the door frame as he stumbled back.

 

“Dream?” He stuttered. “Did you—!”

 

Dream lowered George’s head onto his lap, freeing an arm to hold up. “No, Ranboo, it’s not what it looks like!” He laughed nervously. Great job, Dream. Make yourself look more like a freak.

 

“I’m going—I’m going to get Phil and he’s going to sort this out. He’s going to sort this out and everything will be fine—”

 

“Ranboo shut up!” Dream yelled. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but it did the trick.

 

Ranboo lowered his head, staying in place. Something must have clicked, something that stays connected between Ranboo’s two states. George was right about what he said before; he had done something to Ranboo. But from where George learned that, Dream wasn’t sure. Ranboo was too cowardly to tell anyone.

 

Just like anyone else, Ranboo had was a puppet to Dream. At least, he was before. One of Dream’s earlier plans to break out of prison used Ranboo as a pawn, to collect materials that could be used to destroy the prison and then supply Dream with tools. However, that plan was scrapped once Ranboo stopped showing up. 

 

“Fucking listen to me for a minute. You were always more useful when you were in your other state.” Dream threw his head to the side and clenched his teeth. He needed to stop lashing out. He was just upset right now. “George is stuck in this sort of sleeping spell, and something keeps triggering it.”

 

“So… he’s not dead?”

 

“No, he’s not dead. You think I’d kill George?”

 

Ranboo opened his mouth, but Dream held up a hand.

 

“Don’t answer that. Obviously, I wouldn’t. He’s my best friend.” George was more than that, of course. The words he spoke minutes before were still fresh in the air, but he didn’t want to share them with anyone other than George. “I need…” He stopped there.

 

“What?” Ranboo knelt down, picking up the bread. 

 

“I need—” Dream’s fingers brushed against his neck as he looked down at George. He looked too peaceful to have been yelling at Dream not that long ago. Spit it out . “I need help. For George. He needs help.” There. That was easier. George needed help.

 

Ranboo placed the loaf of bread on a table near the door and then hesitantly knelt down next to Dream. His hand shook as he reached out towards George. Dream almost wondered why he was afraid, but then felt the need to hit Ranboo even as he touched two fingers to the vein right below George’s chin. Ranboo wasn’t trying to hurt him.

 

“Let’s move him to one of the beds.” He stood up again, moving to the same bed that George had sat on earlier. He pulled back the covers and then turned to Dream. “Can you carry him yourself or do you need help?”

 

“I need help.”

Notes:

No one:
Literally no one:
Me, with every chapter: I think this could use some angst

I'm sorry, I just can't help myself, I know nothing but hurt characters /j. Anyway, the next chapter will have some fluff and a lot less angst, I promise. I just gotta finish writing it in time lmao. I haven't been able to write much lately because I'm a full-time college student and also a little shit sometimes when it comes to having a good writing schedule.

Also, last week I said I had a little surprise and that's another fic I'm writing! It takes place directly after this chapter and it's centered around Ranboo! I'll be posting the first chapter of that fic either next week or the week after (depending on if I get stuck writing on chap 9 or 10).

Once again, you can find me on instagram as weaktoad_tinysea (art acc), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 9: George POV

Summary:

George wakes up.

Notes:

I finished the chapter in time! I almost forgot to post it! *nervous laughter* fuk

Please enjoy ! or something
Thank you to everyone reading and commenting and kudo-ing ing. I'm very tired and I still have to do a pre-lab assignment for my chem class and my spanish hw

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

George’s hands passed down the rungs of the ladder, careful to not catch on a splinter. Dream’s woodwork was never the best; he always rushed sanding the wood because he got impatient so the wood wasn’t smooth. That was kinda like how Dream’s basement room was, anyway. Things were rushed and definitely not expertly made. It was mostly bare, but the two had worked on it together (even though Dream was mad at George for not giving him “love and care.” He eventually forgave him, of course. Dream could never stay mad at George). That made it feel a little homier.

 

As his feet reached the floor, George fixed his gaze on Dream, who was sitting on his bed, reading a book. Dream was wearing his usual green sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes (very ugly ones, but charming in the sense that they were Dream’s). He glanced up at George when he reached the edge of the bed. Dream rested his book in his lap, tucking in his finger to save his page.

 

“What’s up?” Dream asked.

 

George shrugged. “I’m bored.”

 

Dream lifted his book back up and continued reading. “Well, I’m not.”

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, George sighed dramatically. When Dream didn’t react to that, George flopped onto his back and rolled to face Dream, almost hitting his feet. Still no response. George sighed again. 

 

This time, Dream flexed his ankle so his foot hit George’s forehead. 

 

“Hey—!”

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Dream lowered his book slightly. “Like gathering netherite with Sapnap?”

 

“He keeps on joking that he’s going to push me into lava.”

 

“Aw, you poor thing.” He lifted his book back up and turned the page. 

 

‘Aw, you poor thing,’ ” George mocked in falsetto. “Come spar with me so I can beat up Sapnap. Or, better yet, beat him up for me.”

 

“I’m busy.”

 

George took off his goggles and rubbed his eyes. “Dream,” he said, dragging out the vowel sound. He grabbed the top of Dream’s book, lowering it slightly, then pouted and batted his eyelashes jokingly.

 

“What, George?” Dream sounded a little annoyed, but George knew he could push him a little more. If he imagined it hard enough, he could picture Dream’s eyebrows drawing in as he struggled to hold back a smile. At least, that’s what Dream sounded like he was doing.

 

“Give me… attention.”

 

“No.”

 

George huffed and sat up. “How can you even read with your mask on? Does it not get in the way or something?”

 

“Okay, fine, George. What do you want to do?” Dream set his book off to the side after folding the corner of his page. He pulled in his legs and sat cross-legged.

 

“No, answer my question.”

 

“You already know the eyes of the mask are made of a thinner mesh material—”

 

George leaned forward, pressing the palms of his hands into the bed. “But wouldn’t it be easier to just take it off?”

 

“You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing my face.” He fiddled with the bottom of his mask as if he was debating on taking it off. His wrist was bandaged from a burn he got from the nether, it was bound to become many.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re too ugly,” George said, smiling.

 

“Oh, come on, you know it’s because I’m too handsome. ” 

 

“Then prove it.” George crossed his arms as he closed his eyes and turned away. There was no way Dream was going along with this, but George was allowed to have his fun. When he tried to peek, Dream was right in his face, his mask almost touching George’s nose.

 

Before George could fall backward off the bed from being startled, Dream grabbed his arm. “Whoa, careful, George.” His hand slid down to hold George’s wrist as he pulled him forward. Dream rubbed small circles in George’s skin.

 

George’s cheeks warmed. There were always moments like these when the jokes died down. Sure, Dream was always paying closer attention to George, sometimes being a “simp,” as Sapnap would say, but there were times that George felt like there was something more to Dream’s actions and words. It was dangerous territory, but they were treading in it now. George could feel the water lapping at his ankles, slowly rising.

 

“Do you want to see?” Dream’s thumb slid to the palm of George’s hand.

 

“What?” George stuttered. The water was almost at his knees.

 

Dream lifted George’s hand until it was brushing the back of his head, nail combing through his hair. It was a little longer than usual, they were both due for haircuts, but George would be lying if he said he didn’t like Dream’s hair like this. It made his hair fluffy and wavy. 

 

“Do you want to see my face?”

 

George’s heart pounded against his chest. The water was at his waist. “You’d trust me with that?”

 

George’s fingers made contact with the warm metal latch of Dream’s mask. One flick of his thumb and Dream’s mask would fall. 

 

“I’d trust you with anything, George.”

 

The wave of water lapped over his face, settling around his chest when George’s name passed through Dream’s lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and unclasped the mask. 

 

“George.” 

 

The water was up to George’s chin. He opened his eyes, instantly making contact with Dream’s. His first thought was that Dream’s eyes were very yellow, but he remembered Dream talking about how they’re green. But despite that, the golden color was nice. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks, folding into the creases of his eyes. There was a faint scar across the bridge of his nose and through one of his eyebrows, probably from rough-housing with Sapnap. His lips were pulled into a smile, slowly moving to form words.

 

“So… what do you think?”

 

George was drowning and it was hard to breathe. And maybe even if it was difficult, George kind of liked the way oxygen struggled to enter his lungs. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. Now that his mask was off his face, Dream’s bangs were also visible. With one hand still in Dream’s, he used his other to brush his bangs aside.

 

“Am I too handsome for you to speak?” Dream tilted his head to the side, leaning into his and George’s clasped hands.

 

“You’re…” George cleared his throat, glancing back and forth from Dream’s face to their hands. “You’re okay.”

 

Dream wheezed and leaned forward until his head touched George’s shoulder. Warmth bloomed in George’s chest, his free hand thrown to the side as Dream’s nose pressed against him.

 

“Does that mean ‘you’re handsome’ in George language? Because then I think you’re pretty okay, too.”

 

“Dream—” George stuttered. He tried to shake off the nervous energy of seeing Dream’s face for the first time. “I’m glad you showed me your face. It really means a lot to me.”

 

They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, George running his fingers through Dream’s hair as his breathing evened out. Things were getting more comfortable, and George wanted to stay that way, with Dream leaning on him, forever. It made him feel warm inside. Feelings that usually laid dormant built up in his chest, but he welcomed it. 

 

“Sometimes I forget what I look like,” Dream admitted, looking up at George. “Promise me you won’t forget.”

 

George closed his eyes and said, “Committed to memory.”

 

When he opened his eyes, Dream was gone. In fact, George wasn’t even sitting on the bed anymore; that was gone, too. Everything about Dream’s room changed, and most notably, there was a sewer system running through it.

 

“Dream?” George stepped down the hall of the sewers, running a hand along the stone wall to keep himself steady on the wet floor. “Dream?!”

 

No one answered his calls except his own echoes. How far did the sewer system go, anyway? He walked for a few minutes as the water in the sewers began to gradually rise, passing his ankles, his knees, his hips—it wasn’t long before he was swimming. But he couldn’t stop. Dream had to be here somewhere.

 

George’s head pressed against the ceiling of the sewers and used his last breath to call out Dream’s name a final time.

 

And then he felt his body jolt forward when his eyes opened. George wasn’t in the sewers anymore. He might have thought he was still dreaming if the place wasn’t so unrecognizable; George learned once that most places and people you see in your dreams are what you’ve seen in real life. As an extra measure, he pinched his arm, wincing at the instant pain.

 

From what George could tell, he was laying in a bed, tucked under the covers. To his left, there was a nightstand with a bottle of water and his goggles. As he glanced to his right, he had to do a double-take; someone was sitting in a chair next to his bed, but he instantly felt the lingering effects from his dream fade away when he realized it wasn’t Dream. Instead, Niki was asleep in the chair, her head angled slightly downwards and her arms crossed. 

 

That would’ve been too cliché, wouldn’t it? That George could have woken up with Dream there, watching over him, waiting for him to wake up. And then Dream would smile at him, tell him how much he missed him while he was asleep. Maybe brush his hand against George’s cheek, as gentle as he was in his memory. 

 

George shifted in the bed, reaching for the bottle of water. When he sat up and uncorked the bottle of water, Niki started to open her eyes. 

 

She lazily looked over at George, eyes widening when she saw he was awake. “Shit, I fell asleep! I was supposed to be watching!” She scooted her chair closer to the bed and grabbed his hand. “How are you feeling?”

 

Her urgency started to make George feel uncomfortable. He never had anyone caring about him when he fell asleep before, aside from the one time Quackity helped him. So much had changed since then. What happened? He tried to think about the last time he was awake.

 

“Thirsty.” Even with just one word, his voice was incredibly hoarse as it scratched against his vocal cords. That usually only happened when he was asleep for a long time. He took a sip of water and stared at the bottle. “ How long have I been asleep for? Two weeks? Three?”

 

Niki squeezed his hand, reminding him that they were still connected. “George… you’ve been asleep for seven months.”

 

George choked on the water he was drinking, coughing as he pulled away from Niki. He slammed his fist on his chest a few times before he could regain his composure. “That can’t be possible.”

 

“We were afraid you’d never wake up.”

 

George threw the blanket off and stood up. His legs wobbled a bit, almost sending him back onto the bed, but he was able to balance himself. His body had never been in this shape before, not that he could remember, anyway. But seven months? That couldn’t be right. He’s never been asleep for that long and it shouldn’t be possible.

 

“You shouldn’t be standing right now, maybe you should rest—”

 

“I’ve had enough bloody rest,” George argued, accent thick. He checked his body for any stray plants growing on him but came back satisfied that there was only one pesky dandelion. Someone must’ve been taking care of it for him. Not only that, but someone had changed his clothes into fleece pajamas, and they smelled kind of fresh, like the lilac they used to use to wash laundry at the community house.

 

Niki followed behind him as he pushed through the door to the hallway. “There’s something wrong with you, and I think we should really talk about that first.”

 

“I already know that.”

 

The memories were suddenly coming back to George. The prison break. Staying at the Syndicate’s base. Fighting with Dream. Dream telling him that he… loved him. And then the stress of it all caused George to pass out. His sleeping condition must’ve gotten much worse when put in combination with the herbs he was using. He knew about the side effects, knew what would happen if he stopped taking them regularly, but he still did it anyway. And he paid the price.

 

The halls were decorated with odd “trophies.” George thinks of them as that way with hesitancy, because why else would they be displayed like this? Wither skulls, bows, swords, old ragged paintings, and maps were hung in strange arrangements. Either the person who put them there didn’t know anything about interior design, or the meaning was lost on George.

 

George’s footsteps were soft and cushioned as he walked down the hall. It helped that he wasn’t actually wearing shoes; he only had socks on. The person who changed his clothes probably didn’t think that he’d just get up and leave when he woke up. He probably should’ve looked around for shoes before he left, though. Well, it was too late now. 

 

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Niki asked. She had been silent the last few minutes, apparently only making sure that George didn’t pass out on his little excursion. 

 

George stopped right before the next turn he was going to take at random. “No,” he admitted.

 

“Okay, then…” She reached for his wrist and started to pull him in the other direction. “Let’s get you something to eat first. We have to address your physical needs first.”

 

“I’m not hungry.” At that moment, his stomach decided to betray him with an angry growl. “That means nothing.”

 

“Sure,” she said, continuing to pull him along.

 

Niki seemed to be a touchy person, which bothered George a little. He did not like physical touch all that much, in fact, he preferred that people didn’t touch him at all. But Niki’s grip was strong and it grounded him to this reality—assured him that he was actually awake.

 

“I don’t want to eat, I need to see Dream.”

 

Niki shook her head. “You need to eat. If you really want to see him, I’ll take you to where he is afterward.”

 

George worried his bottom lip at her words. Seeing Dream wasn’t a “want,” that’s why he didn’t phrase it that way. Dream’s words were heavier than ever on his mind, and not just because of Dream’s declaration, but because of the memory that was uncovered in his dream. Dreams were powerful. After all, that probably explained Dream’s namesake, but George always paid attention to what happened in his.

 

There was a reason he was given that specific memory. It was so long since that happened, actually around two years, taking into account the time he was asleep for, and it helped him remember the connection he had with Dream. They trusted each other before, so there was a chance they could get that trust back.

 

Niki brought George into a room that was half a kitchen, half a dining room. A few plates sat on the counter, wrapped in plastic. On the table, there was a half-eaten meal and a glass of water. Clearly, they used the kitchen often.

 

“Sorry for the mess,” Niki said, picking up the plate and cup from the table. “Usually Phil cleans up the kitchen, but he’s been out lately. Plus, Technoblade gets too distracted to remember little things like cleaning up after himself sometimes.”

 

George nodded lightly. Dream often did things like that when they lived in the community house together. One moment Dream was cooking steak in the smoker, the next he was paying a visit to BadBoyHalo (however Dream got sidetracked like this, George would never know). George may or may not have helped himself to the food whenever that happened. 

 

After covering and placing the plate in the fridge, Niki gestured to the food on the counter. “We have some leftovers from lunch. Salmon, bread, baked potatoes. Take your pick.”

 

“L’Manberg’s signature dish,” George said, pulling the plastic wrap off the salmon. 

 

Niki’s face sours for a second, but it quickly washes away. “Yeah, it was.”

 

He speared one of the fish fillets with a fork and dropped it on a new plate, then grabbed a slice of the bread. A vague memory arose in his mind about Niki having a bakery once. He didn’t know how he remembered, but it seemed like his slumber dislodged old memories. 

 

“Did you bake this?” He asked, tearing off a bite of bread. 

 

“Um, yeah it’s actually from a starter I’ve been working on for almost a year.” Her eyes lit up as she began to explain more about the bread, the other things she used the yeast for, and the one time Ranboo almost tossed it in the trash because he didn’t know what it was. 

 

George laughed at the last one. “Hey, well it’s not as bad as Karl trying to mix bread and the mushrooms he grows in the shack. He’s not the best at baking. Neither is Sapnap.”

 

“Well, you’ll just have to visit my underground city one day and you can bring the two of them with you.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ll bake something for you guys.”

 

Something in George deflated as she said that. Karl and Sapnap were probably worried sick over where he was. Or maybe they didn’t care; maybe they forgot about him. Maybe Sapnap has stayed true to his promise and has hunted Dream. Maybe Dream was already dead and Niki had been holding that from him this whole time. Who even knows what happened when he was asleep. 

 

That being said, he needed to see Dream. George scarfed down the rest of his food, then faced Niki with determination. “Bring me to Dream.”

 

 

George leaned against the doorframe, scanning the treeline. He picked at the splinters of the frame, his nails breaking off a small piece every once and a while. Niki told him that Dream was out collecting wood for the fireplace. Frankly, it was a little worrying since he went alone and he was a wanted man, but George was assured multiple times that Dream was a little stronger these days.

 

Despite that, George couldn’t get rid of the underlying worry. Partly because he couldn’t see Dream from Technoblade’s old house, partly because of how things were left between the two of them. Time could’ve changed Dream, but it hasn’t felt like that long for George. 

 

If anything, the two were due for a long talk.

 

And then he saw him. Dream was bundled in winter clothing: a dark green overcoat, black trousers, snow boots, and a black scarf covered the bottom half of his face. In one hand, he rested an axe on his shoulder, and in the other, he pulled a sled of wood behind him. His hair looked freshly cut, now resembling that of the earlier days in the SMP. In fact, it sent a shock through him because he thought it was DreamXD. But this had to be Dream.

 

So far, Dream didn’t notice George was standing in the doorway. He was too focused on pulling his sled, giving extra tugs when it caught on a snowdrift. George almost let Dream continue, until he realized that he was taking a turn and not using the entrance to the Syndicate base through Technoblade’s house.

 

George hurried down the steps, pulling his borrowed coat closed. It was originally Niki’s, a white puffy coat used for camouflage in the snow, but it fit him just fine. He didn’t take the time to zip it up because he didn’t think he was going outside, but he was in a rush now. Not only that, but he was still wearing his pajamas, too. Since he didn’t have boots, he was also walking through the snow in his sneakers. 

 

Clearly, Dream was well attuned to the sounds made around him. As soon as he heard George crunching through the snow, he immediately scanned the area. He locked eyes with George. He could see Dream’s eyes. They were the same golden color he remembered, but instead, he could see a fractured scar cutting through his face. 

 

The rope to the sled slipped from Dream’s hand at the same time his axe hand dipped until it touched the snow. “George?” His voice was muffled, but George could still hear the emotion in it.

 

“Hey.” George smiled weakly, continuing his walk until he was right in front of Dream.

 

Dream let the axe sink into the snow, freeing his hand so he could tug down his scarf. His mouth was slightly open, a puff of breath escaping as his lips trembled. “You’re awake.” His hands reached out, only to freeze before they could touch George. 

 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” George watched as Dream let his hands fall back to his sides. “You’ve, uh, cleaned up a bit.”

 

Dream sniffed and rubbed his gloved hand beneath his nose. “I have so much to say to you,” he stuttered out. “I have a list—and letters, I suppose—but I don’t have it on me.” Tears began to spill out on his rosy cheeks.

 

George had never seen Dream in this state, at least not in a long time. Usually, if Dream was crying, he was faking it for a joke. George always suspected that if Dream were to actually cry, he never did it in front of other people. Neither of those was the case now.

 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay.” George closed the gap between the two, resting his hands on Dream’s face, and wiped away the tears with his thumb. He wasn’t as cold as he expected, probably because Dream’s scarf held in some of his body heat. “We can go inside and get it.”

 

Dream nestled into George’s hand, effectively wiping the remaining tears. He nodded a few times but didn’t take any action to move away. It was like this was everything Dream was waiting for, but he was afraid to take it. That was different. Something about Dream had changed since George fell into his slumber (his appearance was obvious to that, but this was below the surface).

 

“Okay… then,” George began, slipping his hands away. Despite the cold, George was starting to feel a little hot. Hopefully, that wouldn’t get worse as they stepped inside. “Let’s go.”

 

George walked up the steps to Technoblade’s house but stopped once he saw that Dream wasn’t following him. Dream had picked up the things he was carrying again.

 

“I have to pull this to the larger entrance; it’s not going to fit through that door. Plus, that’s not where we need it, anyway.”

 

“Oh. Right.” George walked back down the steps, this time following Dream instead. His steps fell in between the lines that the sled made, every once and a while falling in Dream’s footprints. Dream’s were much larger, imprinted with the pattern from the bottom of his boots.

 

They stayed silent for a few more minutes as they walked. It wasn’t until they made it to the giant mechanical door that George spoke up again. “So, what have you been doing these past few months?”

 

Dream took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve been working on a lot of things. Recently, I’ve been helping Ranboo look for a book, but he’s with Phil right now. I, uh, visited the ruins of L'Manberg. Planted a few trees and flowers there with Phil. I also tried to make amends with Tommy. That one didn’t go so well.” Dream rubbed the back of his neck as the door opened.

 

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

 

“I was only taking your advice.”

 

George’s face bloomed with heat as he stepped into the base. “Dream…”

 

He looked back at him, eyebrows curved downward in concern, a cautious smile on his face. “What is it, George?”

 

Dream must’ve been scared that he was going to break George again, like one breath in the wrong direction would shatter him. But right now, George’s biggest concern was to not melt in the presence of a young sun. Dream’s aura had changed from a bruising storm into something kinder. Unsure, yes, but kind nonetheless. 

 

“It’s… nothing.”

 

Dream’s smile waned a little, but he turned away as he said, “I’m glad you’re awake.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

Dream dragged the sled to a stop in the entrance of the base and then walked down the hall with George close behind. And soon enough, they were back in the room that George was sleeping in. In his rush to leave, George missed that there was another bed on the other side of the room. 

 

At the foot of the bed, Dream began to shift through a chest. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”

 

Well, one thing hadn’t changed with Dream—he was still unorganized in the worst times. 

 

Finally, he held up a manila envelope. “Got it.” He pulled it back in front of him, staring at it for a second, and took a shaky breath. “I… don’t know if I can read this.”

 

“That’s okay, I can read it myself—as long as you still want me to know what you wrote.”

 

Dream held it out towards George, and it slipped out of Dream’s hands easily. George untied the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. He took a deep breath. This was going to take a while.

 

I’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks now. What to say to you when you wake up. If you wake up. The first few days I fell asleep in the chair next to your bed, hoping that you’d wake up and I’d be there for you. After a while, I moved to the bed across the room. I don’t want to be too far from you. 

 

I don’t want you to feel alone.



My mind keeps on replaying the terrible moments from when you visited me in prison. I’ve always thought that I could do whatever I wanted, take everything for myself because I wasn’t afraid to lose the things I didn’t have. And now, I’m terrified of losing you. You’re my best friend, George. I can’t imagine living without you.

 

I’m trying to change myself before you wake up.  I want to be perfect so I don’t fuck up again.

 

George rifled through the stack of papers. “Are these all from different days?”

 

Dream shrugged lightly and nodded as he said, “Most of them, yeah.”

 

Today Niki dragged me out of our room and cut my hair. It feels weird to not have my hair touching the back of my neck. And maybe it seems a little silly, but I started making a sweater while I sit in the chair next to your bed. It’s not much, but things are changing. Maybe I’ll be a whole different man when you wake up, haha. 



I’ve been stuck inside for a few days because of the blizzard. Turns out the letter I wrote you yesterday about how I was hoping the snow would let up was too optimistic. Techno says it looks like we’ll have to ration our firewood until we can go out to get more. He doesn’t want anyone to get lost in the snow. (Read: me).

 

I wonder what you would think of the snow. Remember the one time we trekked out to a snowy forest with Sapnap just so we could go sledding? That was good snow, like how it usually is out here. But the wind is whipping outside and it’s been dark for a few days. Maybe if it happens again when you wake up, we can spend time bundled up together. I mean, if you’d want.



George, I’m so, so sorry for leaving with all the awful things I said. The awful things I’ve done. I should’ve known that the things I did would come back to you and Sapnap. I don’t want to hurt people anymore, and certainly not you. But I keep feeling all this rage and I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m back at square one.

 

 You’ve been asleep for three months now and it feels like it’s all my fault. Phil keeps trying to reassure me it’s not—there are other things in play—but I can’t help but beat myself up over it. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me. 

 

I’m… not having a good day.



Sorry for that last letter, if you read it. Honestly, I should take it out of the stack of letters. I’ll do that when I’m done writing this. I just miss you so much. 

 

More recently, Ranboo, Phil, and I have been looking for ways that might help you wake up sooner. In exchange for that, I’m helping them look for something of Ranboo’s. I don’t know if I should write it down here; Ranboo might not want me sharing that with other people, even if it’s you. 

 

So if I start writing a little less, that’s why. I can’t wait to speak to you again.

 

George continued reading Dream’s notes. Some of them were about his day/week, like learning how to bake, teaching the Syndicate new fighting techniques; others were about random thoughts Dream had or memories of the two of them. It was like he was filling in all the conversation that they would have had if George was awake. And honestly, it was a little endearing.

 

He caught onto phrases that were repeated like “I miss you,” “I can’t wait for you to wake up,” and “We should do this when you wake up.”

 

As he progressed through the letters, he moved to sit on one of the chairs in the room. In a similar manner, Dream gradually began to drape his body over his bed, waiting for George to finish. George wasn’t sure how he could wait so long. He wasn’t giving any comments and he wasn’t trying to bring up any conversation, yet Dream sat there the whole time.

 

Finally flipping to the last page, George was struggling to keep the tears in his eyes and chuckled to disguise it. 

 

The flowers and trees in the ruins of L’Manberg are all finally done growing. I used to go there with Ranboo sometimes—before he left with Phil to look for his book—but now I’ve been going alone. It used to be a haunting sight, a crater that went down to bedrock. An aviary that was half blown up, along with the remains of a few festival attractions. I could barely bring myself to look at the obsidian frame that hung above the empty country. 

 

Even the ghosts wanted nothing to do with the ruins. I really destroyed something beautiful.

 

But that’s why I have to keep going back there. Why Phil came with me to grow vines from the obsidian frame, dig a path through the lake to let the water fall into the crater, and plant seeds and saplings. We’ve continued to return to water and fertilize them so things could live there again. Build a place that the ghosts could be content with. 

 

A few times I’ve had to drop what I’m doing when Sam or Quackity come to L’Manberg, looking for me. Quackity almost caught me once, but he got distracted by some of the rose bushes we planted where El Rapids used to be. Since I haven’t seen them there in a while, I think they’ve stopped checking there. L’Manberg has become an unofficial peaceful region, like the Holy Land.

 

I can finally breathe when I step into the borders that once defined L’Manberg. Sometimes, I see Tommy sitting on the hill above Wilbur’s ball and I can only hope that this means something to him. 

 

Once you wake up, I want to take you there. I know you weren’t really involved with L’Manberg, but you took part in the first destruction and witnessed the end of the second one. I think you’d like the way it looks now. 

 

I planted a field of dandelions for you. Most people think they’re a weed, but they’re strong and can grow in most conditions; that’s really good since a lot of L’Manberg’s soil is shit. Plus, I know they’re your favorite. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself by saying this, but I’d like to think I’m sort of like a dandelion. At least from your point of view, we’re the same color when I wear green. 

 

If you don’t wake up today, I’ll write you another letter tomorrow.

 

-Dream

 

“You, um,” George cleared his throat. “You wrote a lot.”

 

Dream picked his head up off his bed, revealing his now messy hair and a nervous smile. “You were asleep for months, what else was I supposed to do?”

 

George rubbed the back of his neck. What was he supposed to suggest? Should he make a joke, or was it just a rhetorical question? He opted to not say anything instead.

 

“I wanted to show you that I’ve been working on being kinder to people, putting in more care.” Dream sat up, leaning his elbow on the bed. The fat of his cheek squished as his hand held up his face. “I didn’t know how you’d feel when you woke up.”

 

“Well, you got your point across,” George said, slipping the papers back into the envelope.

 

Dream’s face lit up at that; his head lifted slightly as a smile graced his lips. “I did?”

 

Finding himself at a loss for words, George only nodded. It was strange to see that Dream was so expressive as if his mask had been a thin line from people seeing all of his emotions. Even when his mask was destroyed, his bangs had hid his eyes. Dream was an open book now.

 

“So…” Dream dragged out. “What does this mean?”

 

George drew his eyebrows in. “What?”

 

He sighed, dropping his chin back into his hand. “Like, how do you feel towards me? I don’t know if you remember but…”

 

Oh. Oh. Dream was looking for an answer to his declaration. Even though it wasn’t written out in the letters, Dream must’ve been thinking about it in every sentence he wrote, thinking about adding in the words when he punctuated a sentence. Dream still loved George.

 

Dream must’ve seen the realization in his eyes, the hesitation George had as his mouth parted slightly, because that caused him to rush out his words. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me, though! I can manage, please don’t worry.” He held up his shaky hands.

 

Dream was scared. Holy shit. But he was trying to hide it for George’s sake.

 

George took a slow breath and then exhaled. “Dream, since waking up, it hasn’t felt like any time has passed for me. The wounds are still fresh.”

 

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, tucking his head into his shoulder. 

 

“I just need some time.” 

 

“George, I would give you all the time in the world if that was what you needed.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

George squeezed the envelope between his hands. There was still so much to talk about, still so much to explain. Admittedly, George probably had some things to explain to Dream, too.

 

“I know I wrote it so many times in the letters,” Dream began, “but I want you to hear it in my own voice. I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused you. In hindsight, I think I was just trying to protect myself using a double-edged sword.”

 

George shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”

 

“I thought that if I could get rid of all my attachments; if I could pretend I didn’t care about anything—anyone—then they couldn’t be used against me. I did terrible things, I know. I’m just scratching the surface of making amends.” Dream paused for a moment, swallowing hard. “But I couldn’t let my actions cause other people to hurt you. George, I was afraid they were going to use you against me.”

 

“So… you hurt me to protect me?” George was careful with the tone of his words, not wanting to escalate things this time. He needed to remember the Dream from his memory; they can still get along. 

 

Dream winced. “That wasn’t my intention. I was wrong for what I did.”

 

George leaned back in the chair, tipping his head towards the ceiling. He took a deep breath. He would need it for when he plunged into the water. 

 

“Hey, listen,” Dream said, placing a tentative hand on George’s knee. “Let’s… let’s visit L’Manberg. I can show you what it looks like; my writing doesn’t do it justice.”

 

Biting the inside of his cheek, George took a moment to think and inspect Dream’s face. His expression was earnest, mouth in a thin line, eyebrows relaxed—but his eyes held a softness in all their golden glory. His eyes were warm like the sun, and George found himself nodding as he looked into them. 

 

 

The trip through the Nether was short and uneventful, Dream using the time to tell little stories that he hadn’t written about. And through it all, George found himself relaxing. It might’ve been weird, considering he was walking through one of the most dangerous realms in existence, but Dream watched out for him. Turns out the axe he owned wasn’t just for wood. 

 

As they exited the portal, Dream held up a hand, almost brushing against George’s chest. “We need to be careful now. I don’t want to get caught with you here.”

 

“I’ll be able to handle myself.” George puffed out his chest, accidentally hitting Dream’s hand. He looked down as Dream slid his hand to George’s shoulder. 

 

“I’m sure you could, but let’s not draw any attention to ourselves, anyway.” Dream removed his hand and started walking. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

 

After descending the steps, Dream cautiously opened the door to the community house, quickly searching the room. Deeming it safe, he stepped inside. George followed behind. 

 

“You know, before I woke up I was dreaming about your old room, beneath this house. You were…” George hesitated as Dream raised an eyebrow. 

 

“George, you were dreaming about me?” A sly smile slipped into his face. 

 

“Not like that,” George sputtered, crossing his arms. “You’re gross.”

 

They passed through the community house, veering into the Holy Land. It was better to avoid the path in case someone was using it. 

 

Silence enveloped them for a while as they traversed through the trees and hills. This was apparently a route that Dream took often, as a make-shift path had already begun to form in the dirt. 

 

“Are you going to finish telling me what your dream was about? Or do I not get to know now?” Dream asked, hand on a tree as he surveyed the next area. 

 

George huffed. “Maybe not. Maybe I just keep that little information to myself.”

 

“Oh come on, George.”

 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled wryly. “Okay, okay. I dreamed about the first time you showed me your face.”

 

Dream visibly froze for a moment, then turned to face George. His face held a mix of emotions as his eyebrows tried to settle but ultimately rose as he smiled. “That’s a fond memory.” Dream held out his hand. “Let’s move.”

 

George grabbed Dream’s hand, letting him lead him through the final line of trees. And then L’Manberg came into view. The overgrown country was bathed in golden light as the sun was setting, half-hidden behind the old stone brick and obsidian tower. The sky was smeared with pastel clouds, a warm embrace to the fallen land. An obsidian frame hung above the sunken earth, vines draping down as if they were reaching for the ground below. A few lanterns were tangled in the vines—the remnants of an old festival.

 

As for the pit itself, it no longer looked like the sight of dozens of deaths, rather it began to look natural. Hundreds of flowers swayed in the gentle wind caused by the waterfalls. Giant mushrooms and trees alike adorned the edges of the pit, leading into the glowing caverns. 

 

Dream continued to lead George towards a wooden bridge that stretched across the L’ManHole. As they stepped onto the bridge, George brushed his hand across the woodwork of the railings, finding it to be smooth.

 

“Did you build this bridge?” George asked. 

 

Dream glanced away, facing toward the sun as his other hand reached for the back of his neck. His frame glowed with the fading sunlight, curling around his golden locks and tanned skin like it always belonged there. “Well, Phil helped me sand it before piecing it together.”

 

George chuckled lightly. 

 

When they stopped in the middle of the bridge, George looked to the bottom. The L’Manberg flag sat dormant, as the breeze wasn’t strong enough to move it. The lake surrounding it flowed into the caverns at its edges, but the center was still, holding lily pads adorned with flowers. 

 

“This is beautiful, Dream.” George squeezed their held hands lightly.

 

Dream squeezed his hand back, a placeholder for words he kept on his tongue. “It was the least I could do for something I destroyed.”

 

George’s heart ached for the sorrow in Dream’s voice; he really meant it. Though George had never cared much for L’Manberg, he found himself yearning for the old country, as if the care had always been there. Dream was making him feel this. He took in a careful breath as his hand slipped out of Dream’s.

 

They left the bridge behind, entering the area that was once El Rapids. Just as Dream had written, the place was filled with rose bushes. The sweet aroma of the flowers filled the chilling air as the night sky began to take over. In the distance, the remnants of Party Park were bathed in the dying neon lights of the attractions.

 

In the juncture of the path between the rose bushes and Pary Park, a field of yellow and white dandelions stretched out. George rushed into the field, disturbing the exposed seeds of the aged dandelions. The seeds floated gently into the air, clinging to the bottom of George’s jeans and other flowers. He bent down the pluck one of the white flowers, turning around as he held it up.

 

Dream watched from the edge of the field, a soft smile gracing his face. 

 

“Dream, look,” George said, stepping closer. “You can make a wish on these ones.”

 

He laughed lightly at George’s words but accepted the dandelion offered to him and hummed. “What should I wish for?”

 

They stood in silence for a few seconds as Dream thought of a wish. George tilted his head up to the sky as he waited, the stars beginning to appear in the sky. 

 

“I wish…” Dream began, gaining George’s attention again, “that we can continue to visit here, on calm nights like these, and watch the sunset and the stars twinkle in the sky.” He blew the seeds off the dandelion. “I wish to share it with you.”

 

“You’re not supposed to say your wish aloud, idiot,” George huffed, but there wasn’t any anger behind it. 

 

And then Dream grinned, like an idiot, too. “Come on, I want to show you one more thing.”

 

The two made their way back across the bridge over to the docks of L’Manberg that still stood. Dream led them to a small house at the end of the dock, one that looked like it was newly built. Inside, there were two beds, a few shelves full of materials and chests, and a skylight above.

 

“Phil and I built this when we stayed in L’Manberg overnight,” Dream explained. “We can sleep here if you don’t want to walk back to the Syndicate’s base right now.”

 

George hadn’t realized how drowsy he felt until Dream mentioned sleep. He nodded, kicking off his shoes as he knelt on one of the beds. The comforter was just as soft as the one on the bed he woke up in this morning, but it held a slight chill. The bed clearly hadn’t been used in a while. 

 

Similarly, Dream was pulling himself beneath the covers of the other bed, laying on his side to face George. “Is it comfortable?”

 

George hummed. “I could easily fall asleep here.”

 

True to his word, George’s breathing soon evened out as he fell asleep, bathed in the moonlight that shone through the skylight above. 

Notes:

Yay! This was the chapter where I came up with the name for the fic, The Revival of a Young Sun, "George's biggest concern was to not melt in the presence of a young sun" the young sun being Dream. I always love when stories' name drop the title so I was sure to include it.

So this means that next week might not have a chapter update, since I only have the very beginnings of chapter ten written (but who knows, that could change). Instead, I'll probably post the first chapter I have written for a fic about Ranboo, which takes place in between chapters eight and nine of this fic. I'm thinking of calling it Ranboo's Reverie but idk yet, gotta think some more. I do love me some alliteration.

EDIT: Hi! I posted the first chapter of Ranboo's Reverie! You can check that out now while you wait for the next chapter of this fic :)

Chapter 10: George POV

Summary:

Manhunt.

Notes:

I'm so so sorry it's been three months since I last updated LMAO. I was on a good writing schedule but then my laptop broke, and once it was fixed I got consumed with end-of-the-semester projects and finals, I got a bit busy with other things, AND THEN I SPRAINED MY WRIST. Yeah, I wrote a couple thousand words of this with a sprained wrist, it's fiiiiiiine. Also, I did a bunch of rewriting and planning for this chapter, so hopefully you'll all like it :)

Chapter 10:

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The wind ripped through George’s hair as he ran through the woods. He was careful with his footing so as to not trip on the roots of the trees and stones that covered the ground. After ducking beneath a low-hanging branch and kicking off a small ledge, he let out a whoop.

 

“Dream!” Laughter bubbled up in his chest when his feet hit the ground. “I’m catching up!”

 

Dream, who was only a few feet ahead of George, glanced behind him with wide eyes. He clutched a wooden practice sword in his right hand but quickly latched it to his belt. Then, crouching slightly, he jumped vertically, pulling himself up into a tree. 

 

George stopped at the base of the tree, watching as Dream climbed higher. “That’s not fair! You know you’re way better at climbing than I am!” He put his hands on his hips and tried to stop a smile from appearing on his lips. 

 

“That’s why it was my plan!” he yelled down. “You can always say you give up!”

 

“Like I’m doing that,” George mumbled to himself. He placed his own wooden sword on his back and reached for the closest branch. George wasn’t the best at pull-ups, but he made do by scraping his feet up the side of the trunk. 

 

Soon enough, George was a few feet above the ground. That didn’t matter much though, because Dream was sitting comfortably towards the top of the tree, picking apart the leaves and dropping them on George. 

 

“Just give up already,” Dream taunted. “I’ll show you the way you should be hunting someone.”

 

“I’m not—” George gulped in a breath of air—“giving up so easily.”

 

From where George was in the tree, he couldn’t tell if it was humor, admiration, or just the light that glinted in Dream’s eyes. Whatever it was, though, it fueled George's determination. 

 

A few more minutes passed and George had made decent progress. Although, that came to a crumbling halt when the next branch he grabbed failed to hold his weight. With a snap, the branch broke off the tree, throwing him off balance. 

 

The moment George squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact, he felt a hand grab his wrist. 

 

“Careful, George,” Dream said. “You could fall.”

 

George opened his eyes, and sure enough, Dream held onto him. Dream was upside-down with his legs wrapped around the branch and his other hand holding him stable. His sweatshirt raised slightly, showing the tight black shirt he wore beneath. Blood rushed to his face, tinting his cheeks red. The strands of his hair that were slightly longer framed his face in messy waves, like the sun. 

 

“You look good upside-down,” George commented cheekily. 

 

Dream’s face turned a shade darker. “Shut up.” He pulled George safely up to the next branch. “I win, by the way.”

 

“But I made it to the top of the tree.”

 

“Yeah, well, I caught you , when you were supposed to catch me. Try to spin it your way this time.”

 

“I could push you out of this tree.”

 

“I’d pull you down with me.”

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

Dream narrowed his eyes at George, trying to appear angry, but his smile was giving him away. Dream could never hurt George like that. 

 

And that was something George had been reminding himself the past week, ever since he woke up from his “hibernation,” as Technoblade was calling it. The fear that Dream instilled in George at the prison was long gone now—replaced with warm smiles and gentle touches. It was almost the early days of their friendship, but still different. George had a new appreciation for Dream. 

 

It was clear Dream worked hard to make sure everyone felt happy and safe. He did as much of the physical work that Technoblade would allow, and still found time to help out with other things as well. George suspected that the busier Dream made himself, the easier it was to keep himself under control and calm. 

 

Today, however, Dream was taking a break. The two of them went to a nearby woods, away from the snow, to play manhunt. It was a tradition they used to do with Sapnap and a few of their other friends, but that time has passed. Despite that, it was fun to revisit something so exhilarating. 

 

The two of them sat in the tree for a few minutes, taking a break for water and snacks. They chatted for a while, making jokes as they leaned against each other. 

 

As Dream finished his bread, he zipped up his bag. “Alright, I think it’s time to get out of this tree.” He started to pull him down from the branch, stopping when George gave him a pleading look.

 

“Dream.”

 

He sighed. “Do you need help getting down?”

 

George smiled again as he nodded. It took them a few minutes to get down the tree, but soon enough, George’s feet his the forest floor. Suddenly, he got an idea.

 

As Dream looked down to fix the straps that held his supplies, George bolted in a random direction. “Get rekt, Dream! WOO!”

 

“What?! I was—I was fixing my—George!”

 

George glanced back at Dream to blow a quick raspberry at him. Dream’s legs stretched out in front of him, trying to catch up to George as he scampered away. While Dream might have the advantage of long legs, being short let George duck under things easier. And he utilized that as he passed beneath a fallen tree.

 

Just as he thought he got the upper hand, George bit back a laugh. He looked behind him in time to see Dream vaulting himself over the trunk. How. The. Fuck. 

 

“Oh, George~!’ Dream sang.

 

Running was starting to get difficult. George’s breathing was getting heavy, and he knew he needed to lose Dream. The problem was how. Dream was always so resourceful with his environment and George was afraid that anything he could think of, Dream would have thought of it first. Not only that, but he was still in Dream’s line of sight.

 

First, George took a sharp turn behind an overhang which led to a small stream. He hopped over it, careful to not step into the water because if he got wet, Dream would be able to track him easier. Now that Dream couldn’t see him, he tucked his satchel into a small cave, one that he could’ve easily fit in. If Dream saw that, it could distract him. Then, George crawled into a bush.

 

About a minute later, Dream arrived at the stream. He stopped at the water, surveying the area. Of course, Dream would stop here and look; he was far from being an idiot, despite George’s inclination to call him one.

 

“Where are you, George~?” he taunted in a low voice. “I know you’re still here.”

 

How did he—

 

George covered his mouth to muffle his breath. If only he could do the same with his pounding heart. Of course, the two were playing a game, but he would be lying if he said that Dream still didn’t scare the shit out of him sometimes. 

 

Dream stepped into the stream, the water splashing up his boots. He made his way over to the small cave George hid his satchel in. “Oh George…” he whispered, slowly getting louder, “I’m about to find you!” He held up the satchel, then whispered again, “Or not.”

 

George held back a giggle. 

 

After saying something under his breath, Dream put on George’s satchel and picked back up into a jog, leaving behind the stream.

 

To be safe, George stayed hidden in his bush for a few more minutes. There was a good chance that Dream could’ve just stopped a few meters away, waiting for George to give away his position if he really was there. Hopefully, he’s long gone by now.

 

George carefully left the bush, looking around the area as he did. Dream didn’t appear to be close. However, it was annoying that he took George’s bag with him. He’d have to scavenge for new things if this went on long enough, which it could if George didn’t get caught or couldn’t steal his bag back. He didn’t have a compass back to the Syndicate without his stuff. 

 

He didn’t have much on his person, either. Just a pocket knife, a wooden sword, a handkerchief, and a water canteen. It wasn’t a lot.

 

The next hour was uneventful as George tried to collect some more materials. He gathered some berries in his handkerchief and refilled his canteen, all while avoiding Dream. Honestly, he was surprised that he hadn’t run into his friend yet—they set a boundary to the forest they were in. Maybe they should’ve set a time limit.

 

“George.”

 

He quickly spun around at the sound of his name. That couldn’t have been right; George has been incredibly careful looking around. What was stranger was that he couldn't even see where Dream was standing.

 

“I am up here.”

 

George's eyes trained on the figure in the tree in front of him. It was Dream… XD. The god sat casually in the tree, resting his body against the trunk as his arms were crossed and his legs stretched across the branch. He wore his usual XD mask along with his dark green cloak with the hood pulled up. 

 

Why did he choose now to show up? Usually, DreamXD appeared right after George woke up from a sleeping spell—it’s been a week. Not only that but something about the way that the god spoke made George uneasy.

 

“DreamXD… what are you doing here?” George asked, thumb hooked in his belt.

 

The god shifted so his legs hung off of the branch he sat on. “I am here to take you home.”

 

George laughed nervously. “What?”

 

DreamXD dropped to the ground, deciding to walk, which was unusual. “You have been away for so long.”

 

“Well, I guess I’ve been asleep for a while and I haven’t seen you—”

 

“I have not seen you for a week,” DreamXD said, cupping George’s face in his hands. 

 

George pushed away his hands, startled. Memories of dreams with the god suddenly came back to him: normal days hanging out, repeats of times he spent awake with the god. Something generic enough that George wouldn’t think it was strange.

 

“You’ve been in my dreams? ” George drew his eyebrows in as his mouth was left slightly agape.

 

DreamXD waved his hand like it was an insignificant thing. “I have always been in your dreams, George. What is important now is that I am here, and I can take you away from these… disgusting creatures.”

 

“Huh—no, XD, I don’t want to leave, I’m here with Dream.”

 

Power hummed in the air and George felt the hair on his arms stand up. XD was getting angry. “You were supposed to stay away from him.”

 

“You can’t tell me what to do.” George set his jaw as he slowly slipped his hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around his pocket knife. The god might not be able to take significant damage, but George wasn’t going to let DreamXD push him around.

 

DreamXD reached his hand towards George’s face again, and George particularly remembered seeing his thumb outstretched to touch his forehead. George immediately swatted his hand away. DreamXD didn’t seem to like that.

 

He slowly looked over at his hand, which was now in the air, deadly still. “George. I will give you two options: you can come with me by choice, or I will take you by force.” The god’s voice was low and threatening.

 

George’s stomach churned. DreamXD had never been like this with him before, maybe to other people, but he at least listened to George sometimes. “Okay, okay, if I go with you now, will I at least be able to come back at some point?”

 

He knew the answer already; it was going to be what DreamXD wanted or nothing. George slipped his hand out of his pocket, gripping his knife tightly. 

 

Apparently, that was the wrong move. One of DreamXD’s floating hands appeared and twisted George’s wrist until he dropped his knife. A cry ripped from George’s throat when the god still didn’t let go.

 

“I am not going to continue to be your replacement for that man.”

 

“XD!” he cried when there was a snap in his wrist, feeling it go limp as the god finally let go. George dropped to his knees and cradled his wrist with his other hand.

 

“Have you decided yet?” DreamXD stood above him, a green glow pulsing in the carvings of his mask. “I don’t like hurting you, but I will if I have to.”

 

George groaned instead of responding. He didn’t think that a broken wrist could hurt that much, but here he was, curling his body over his injury. It took a few seconds, but now it felt like his wrist was on fire. 

 

The god grabbed George’s chin, lifting it. “Would you like me to decide for you?”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he whimpered.

 

“You promised to be my friend forever.” His fingers dug into the fat of George’s cheeks. “Do you know what ‘forever’ means, George?”

 

“That’s not very friend-like.” That wasn’t DreamXD; their tone of voice was too different. While this voice seemed angry, too, it held a little more emotion and warmth.

 

DreamXD’s hand slipped away from George’s face, allowing him to turn around. Dream stood atop a small outcrop, with his wooden practice sword in hand. His fractured scar warped across his face: his eyebrows that cast a dark shadow over his eyes, and down his lips that were pulled into a scowl. Even though his weapon wasn’t the strongest, he looked downright deadly.

 

George was able to sit up, still clutching his wrist. “Dream, you have to be careful, he’s a god, and th—”

 

He was cut off as DreamXD’s foot stomped on his back, causing him to bite his tongue and a metallic taste filled his mouth. George’s chest collided with the ground and the force knocked his goggles off his face as all of the air left his lungs. And worst of all, his body crushed his wrist, causing white spots to dance in his vision and tears to prick his eyes.

 

Dream didn’t waste any time jumping down—George could tell when he heard his feet hit the ground—and swung his sword in the god’s direction. There was a thunk above George, but the weight atop him didn’t budge.

 

“We meet yet again, and I see you’re still full of hubris.” DreamXD’s voice was low and gravelly, the tone of voice he tended to use with everyone but George. “Were you not satisfied with the deal we made?”

 

“Fuck,” Dream grunted. 

 

If George had to guess, Dream’s plan didn’t work and DreamXD was much stronger than he expected. This is hopeless, isn’t it? George thought. We won’t be able to get away and he’ll kill Dream.

 

George craned his neck upwards in time to see Dream stumble back, his sword no longer in hand. A moment later, George flinched as the wooden sword dropped next to his face. He tried shifting his weight again, this time to maybe move the god’s foot from his back. The foot only pressed harder.

 

This time, Dream branded his own pocket knife, low to the ground as he stood at the ready. Dream was being cautious now, no longer on the offensive. “Get off of him, XD.”

 

Surprisingly, the god listened. George felt the weight lift from his back, which allowed him to roll onto his back, groaning as the pressure was relieved from his wrist. He stared up at the sky and the branches above until DreamXD leaned over him.

 

“I apologize. We’ll fix your wrist once we leave.”

 

“Leave? Does George want you to take him away?” Dream made eye contact with George, who gently shook his head no, his mind still swimming in pain. “Do you take into account anything he wants?”

 

DreamXD didn’t even spare Dream a glance as he reached for George. “It’s what’s best for him. You don’t understand his needs.”

 

George kicked at DreamXD’s hands before he could pick up George. And you think I don’t know what I need, either? George wanted to yell, but his tongue had gone numb with pain.

 

“You don’t get to decide that for him, though. George is capable enough.” Dream’s eyes connected with George’s once again, affirming his statement. “Now, I’m only going to say this once: leave George alone.”

 

DreamXD held up a hand lazily. “Mortals, they always have to be so difficult.” He crushed his hand into a fist, causing Dream to fall to his knees, clutching his chest. “You’ll stay here if you know what’s good for you.”

 

With a flash of light, DreamXD and George vanished. 

 

 

Light shone directly into George’s eyes as he groaned. He pulled the covers off of himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, not too happy about the sun waking him up. As he flung his legs out of bed, a clanking sound stopped him. That wasn’t right. His ankle was cuffed to the frame of the bed.

 

George took a second to take in his surroundings. There was something else that wasn’t right. He was outside, in one of the beds that were left in a ruined building in L’Manberg. But the last thing he remembered…

 

DreamXD. He must’ve brought George here and healed his wounds.

 

Wrapping his fingers around the chain to the cuffs, George sighed. There had to be a way to escape, but it seemed pretty secure to the bed frame, and none of the links in the chain were close to breaking. This was probably something the god made himself, so it wasn’t too surprising. 

 

“Good morning, George.”

 

He flinched at the god’s cold voice and the light that accompanied him as he materialized next to the bed.

 

“Just like old times; I am here to greet you when you wake up.” DreamXD tilted his head, his mask spinning slowly.

 

George twisted his hands into the blanket. “‘Like old times’? No, XD, what the hell is going on?”

 

One of DreamXD’s floating hands held up George’s communicator, the screen open to the chat of the main server. Most of the time, no one used that chat because it had no privacy; people tended to send messages directly to the people they were trying to contact. So because of that, it was easy to see what the god wanted to show George.

 

There was a single message on the screen, sent under George’s name: If anyone can make it to L’Manberg, please come help. I won’t be able to respond to messages—I can feel myself falling asleep again.

 

George’s eyes flicked from his communicator to DreamXD’s mask, the scratched in face taunting him. “I didn’t send that.” 

 

“Of course not.” The god flipped the screen back to him and tilted his head to the side. “I did. We are going to see who will come to your ‘rescue.’”

 

“Why do you—” George stopped himself for a moment. 

 

Who would come if George asked for help and why would DreamXD want them to come? His first thought is Dream, but as far as George knew, he never got his communicator replaced after prison. His next thought: Sapnap. Going MIA for months would surely worry Sapnap. And then, probably Sam—after the stunt they pulled at the prison, this would seemingly be an easy way to catch him.

 

The only thing he couldn’t think of an answer for is why the god wants them to come here. If he wanted George for himself, he could just take him and hide him away. 

 

“George, I need to ask you to do something for me.”

 

“Why should I do anything for you? You brought me here against my will.” George lifted the chain around his ankle. “You chained me here so I couldn’t get away!”

 

DreamXD ignored what he said and instead continued with his request. “When they arrive, tell them to leave. If they don’t leave…”

 

Footsteps pounded on the stone outside the ruined house. And just as the person rounded a collapsed wall, George turned to see DreamXD teleporting away.

 

“George, I came as soon as I saw you pinged the entire server, I—” Sapnap paused to gulp in air, glancing behind him. “—came with Karl, he’s trying to scale down the hill now.”

 

George’s eyes widened. Even if he couldn’t figure out what the god wanted with his friends, he knew it wasn’t a good idea to have all of them come. So if Sapnap brought Karl with him… “Sapnap, you have to leave.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “But I just got here and you were asking for help.”

 

“That wasn’t me—”

 

“I’m here!” Karl held a sword in his hand, definitely unbalanced. He had a habit of picking up swords he found on old battlefields, and though they were powerful and had decent enchantments, they were never fit for Karl. “Where are the bad guys?”

 

George groaned. “Nowhere. Please, leave now.” He hated lying and he wasn’t very good at it either.

 

Sapnap reached over to Karl, lowering his sword. “Then why are you chained to this bed? That’s kind of kinky, George.”

 

His face flushed red and all coherent thoughts left his head. “Wha—SAPNAP! Why would you—”

 

Once again, there were footsteps outside, though these were even and well-paced. The three of them froze, at the ready. This was when George expected DreamXD would make his entrance, but he was wrong.

 

Ever well-dressed, Quackity strolled into the ruins, the heels of his polished shoes breaking the silence. Sapnap and Karl made eye contact with each other, Karl shifting a little closer. 

 

It had been so long since the four of them had been together; the last time was probably in El Rapids, which was now destroyed. Now, there were roses planted on the ground that used to sit below the floating land. Although, this time, George feared that the three boys had walked into a trap.

 

“To think we’d meet again like this,” Quackity said as if reading George’s mind.

 

“Yeah, nice to see everyone, now you should leave.” George tried to hold out his hands in a pushing motion, but they began to shake.

 

Quackity stepped forward, past his ex(?)-fiancés. “I won’t be leaving until you come with me, George. You pulled a real fucking stunt at the prison a few months ago and you owe me the revival book.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Sapnap grabbed Quackity’s shoulder, turning him slightly. “I don’t know what George did, but you can’t speak to him like that. Especially after just ignoring your fiancés. Quackity, I’ve missed y—”

 

“Well, for your information,” Quackity said, cutting him off, “our handsome friend here was the one who helped break Dream out of prison. And you’re going to call me out on ignoring you guys? Says the one who left me behind.” He sneered and stepped into Sapnap’s face.

 

“Hey, get away from Sapnap—!” Karl tried to step in between the two men.

 

Everything was starting to get too loud. George couldn’t get a word in at all, and even when he was, they weren’t listening to him. They just kept on fighting, somehow forgetting that George was the reason they came here in the first place. He placed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes just as his head began to ache.

 

“SHUT UP!” George yelled.

 

And they stopped. Miraculously, they stopped.

 

“I didn’t send the message, you guys were led into a trap!”

 

However, when George opened his eyes, he saw he was too late. The vines that grew over the ruins had grown around his friends’ limbs, pulling them to the floor and covering their mouths. 

 

“So noisy. I do not understand how you can listen to them bicker like that.”

 

The fiances tried to crane their necks as DreamXD made his entrance. Sapnap and Quackity seemed confused, but recognition flashed in Karl’s eyes as they widened.

 

“DreamXD,” George stuttered. 

 

“I thought I would let them hear from me, their god, that continuing to search for you would be… unfavorable for their health.” The god stepped between Sapnap and Quackity, power radiating from him in waves. He appeared calm, but George had a lot of experience to know that DreamXD could flip at any moment. 

 

To put it simply, George feared for his friends’ lives.

 

“To think these are the people you chose to surround yourself with.” The god crouched down in front of Quackity, who tried to turn his head away. DreamXD fished a poker chip from Quackity’s pocket and held it up to his scarred eye. “A politician blinded by ambition, easily manipulated.”

 

Muffed sounds came from Quackity, likely what was supposed to be a sling of curse words.

 

DreamXD glanced back at George. “Did you know that he once built a church for my religion, a long time ago? Quite a mistake that he gave that up.” He moved the poker chip away from Quackity’s face, then flipped it further into the ruins of L’Manberg.

 

Next, the god stood in front of Sapnap, who struggled against his vine restraints. If George knew anything about his friend, he knew that Sapnap wanted nothing more than to tear into the god, but was helpless when his bandanna was pulled from his hair. DreamXD let the scrap of cloth fall to the dirty floor.

 

“A fool, playing the part of a hero and failing miserably. Sapnap. How does it feel to be torn between the ones you love and unable to ‘save’ your dear friend George?”

 

Sapnap lurched forward, but the vines didn’t budge. His bangs dropped into his face as he hung his head. 

 

Then, DreamXD moved on to Karl. He did nothing as the god stood before him; his eyes were unfocused as if he was deep in thought.

 

DreamXD flicked Karl’s goggles over his eyes, causing him to flinch. “And Karl Jacobs. An amnesiac bound to be replaced. He has been useful to me for quite some time,” he said, grabbing Karl’s chin before tossing it aside, “but he is nothing special.”

 

Finally, he stood in front of George again. “None of them can protect you like I can, George.”

 

George clenched his jaw, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry—George hated crying, especially in front of other people. So instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and said, “What do you want, XD? Why did you trap them here after asking me to tell them to leave?”

 

“They failed to listen to your requests, asked questions they do not deserve answers to.” He reached out to Sapnap’s face, tugging the vines away from his mouth. “Do you promise to leave if I free you from these restraints?”

 

Sapnap looked at the god with fire burning in his eyes. He was never one to back down from a fight. “I’ll beat your ass so hard you’ll wish you never touched George,” he growled.

 

Snapping his fingers, DreamXD returned the vines. “Any threats I may make would fall deaf on their ears. They need an example first.” He stayed facing the three men, his back turned to George.

 

George stood up abruptly, trying his best to grab onto the god’s cloak. His fingers twisted into the dark cloth, but it didn’t budge him at all.  “What do you mean? You can’t—don’t hurt them!”

 

“I can protect you, George, but if they continue to follow us, it will threaten your security.”

 

“I don’t need your protection!”

 

“Of course not. You only want protection from Dream. ” His voice turned sour as if Dream’s name left a bad taste in his mouth. “Everything about him screams imperfection and harm to you. Do you not understand?”

 

George balked, unsure of what to say. Maybe he did prefer for Dream to protect him instead of the god, but that completely disregarded George’s own skill.

 

“You don’t need him. You have me.”

 

“But you’re not—” George grit his teeth. Something had been sitting in his stomach, bubbling and brewing with guilt, yet every time he pushed it aside. He had been using DreamXD as a replacement for the person he really missed. And now he finally had him back. “You’re not Dream!”

 

“I can be your Dream!” DreamXD grabbed George’s wrist, holding up his hand as George struggled to pull away. 

 

George’s eyes frantically looked from the god who had a hold of him to his friends, still tied up and hopeless. Quackity’s eyes were wide, stretching out his scar. Sapnap was pulling at the vine restraints again, desperate to become free again now that the god seemed to be on the attack. Whatever had gone on during the months George was asleep, it made Sapnap eager to help. And Karl… his face was expressionless behind his goggles, but he had somehow gotten his hand free, slowly wiggling his arm through.

 

He swept his eyes back to DreamXD and took a shuddering breath. He had to keep himself composed. If Karl could get fully free…

 

“George, you remember his face—I have his face!” DreamXD tore off his mask and it was no longer the black void that George remembered. Instead, it was Dream’s face—the version he specifically dreamed about right before he woke up from his long slumber.

 

He bared his teeth in an attempt at a smile, his lips stretching over them thinly. A scar graced his nose, the same one Dream had gotten from rough-housing with Sapnap. And his eyes shone golden (likely an emerald green), with an X cutting through his right iris and pupil, and a D in his left. His eyes held something wild and desperate, a god who could only be satisfied by possessing George.

 

A shock of terror spiked through George’s body as he tried harder to free himself from DreamXD’s grip. The recent event of the god breaking his wrist was fresh in his mind, but he could only think of getting away. This wasn’t right. 

 

“XD let go of me!” George used his other hand to try to pry off DreamXD’s hand, but once again, it was no use. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a frustrated cry.

 

“Why do you struggle, George? Is this not enough for you?”

 

When George opened one of his eyes slightly, it landed on Karl, who had successfully freed his entire arm. Leave it up to Karl to weasel himself out of any tough situation. His fist closed around the handle of his discarded sword and he used it to continue to free himself from the vines.

 

“I’m never going to stop struggling as long as you keep me away from my friends!” George yelled. “You act as if I can’t spend time with other people; you’re the one that’s hurting me!”

 

DreamXD’s face darkened, contorting Dream’s face into images he’s only ever seen in his nightmares. “I have spared you from every instance I have considered damaging you,” he said, lowly. “I can show you hurt, George.”

 

Just as DreamXD was reaching for George’s neck, Karl screamed as he slammed the god in the back of the head with his sword. Though, like every other attempt at harming him, the sword glanced right off. Karl didn’t fair well as he dropped the sword, his arms going slightly limp, and shrieked. George could almost feel the jolt of pain that must have shot up Karl’s arms. 

 

“Wait a moment and you will get your turn, Karl Jacobs,” DreamXD said, unfazed as he lifted George by the neck.

 

George’s fingers scrambled across the god’s hold, nails trying to dig and scratch. He was going to die here. He was going to lose a canon life. And his friends were going to die and nothing was working and no matter what, nothing would. 

 

“Karl—” George choked out.

 

Karl’s attention was quickly on him, eyes wide.

 

“You have to free the other two and le—”

 

The hold on his neck squeezed tighter and the blackness at the edges of his vision started growing faster. It was getting hard to think, too hard to realize he should’ve been checking to see if Karl was doing what he said.

 

And then explosions ruptured around them, the force finally freeing George. Oxygen rushed back through him as he coughed, landing in someone’s arms below him.

 

“George, are you okay?” Sapnap asked, tugging him into his chest.

 

“I nearly bloody choked to death—” He coughed again, rubbing his neck. “—but sure, I’m fine.”

 

Sapnap smiled at him, determination glinting in his eyes. “Good, because we need your help to figure out what this idiot’s weakness is.”

 

Speaking of the idiot, he had his back turned to them at the moment, instead, facing the group of people who had just arrived. A few feet ahead, Dream was flanked by Niki and Technoblade. They each held shields, Dream and Technoblade had TNT, and Niki had splash potions at the ready. 

 

DreamXD’s hands were clenched into fists while one of his floating hands slowly covered his face with his XD mask. “Dream, you’re late to the party.”

 

“Well,” Dream began, tossing a stick of dynamite in his hand, “I’ve learned that things are a lot easier when other people help you.”

 

“New Syndicate member Hypnos,” Technoblade added. “I think you’ll find he kinda stole your thing.”

 

Niki held up a clear bottle, raising it above her head. “And he rocks it.” She threw down the potion, and the three of them vanished.

 

George drew his eyebrows in and sat up so he was no longer laying in Sapnap’s arms. And, to his surprise, the blast had broken a link in the chain around his ankle. He was free to move.  “Did you know they were going to be here?”

 

He shook his head. “Of course not. Do you know the last time I even spoke to Dream? I tried to kill him.” His face darkened.

 

No, that would’ve been too perfect. But at least Dream was here now, along with Niki and Technoblade. That in itself was a little surprising; the old Dream that George knew would’ve come here by himself, confident that he didn’t need anyone. Hopefully, Sapnap could hold off from hurting Dream today.

 

The thought of that ignited a spark in George. This was the fruition of all the work Dream had done and it boded well for the future. And, hopefully, for this moment. 

 

At that moment, DreamXD turned to face them. He pulled his hood up, still gripping the fabric even as it covered his head. He let out a frustrated sound as he tugged on his hood further. “You mortals can be so displeasing at times. But you can learn, can’t you, George?”

 

Those words were a spur for George to move, dragging Sapnap along with him. “Move, move, move! ” he shrieked at his friend.

 

Sapnap scrambled across the ground with him, narrowly missing the god’s reach. This was the point where DreamXD would likely try to grab one of them, teleporting them away. More likely George, so he could take him far, far away.

 

The two of them were able to make it a few meters up the hill just as they felt an explosion rumble across the ground. More explosives went off around DreamXD, securing their getaway. However, it wasn’t much help to Karl, who still hadn’t freed Quackity. The two of them were still near the god; Karl was on his stomach, clutching his head, and Quackity had his head tucked into his shoulder away from the blasts.

 

“We have to help Karl free Quackity,” Sapnap said. He looked around the area, probably for his lost sword. Though, that wouldn’t be much help, so maybe not.

 

“How?”

 

“Fuck, I don’t know, but we can’t just stand here and do nothing!”

 

George looked down at the ground, holding his arm. What were they supposed to do? The god had no known weaknesses, explosives were barely stunning him (it was probably just a nuisance), and almost all the people he cared about were there to save him. Logically, if he went down there, he would be going against the reason they all came. But was now the time to think logically?

 

“Let’s go.” George started to step forward, but Sapnap grabbed his shoulder.

 

“Whoa, without a plan?” He spun George around, searching his face. “I mean, I’m down, but what happened to you, man?”

 

George knit his eyebrows. “What kind of question is that? We just—we need to get back down there!” he huffed. “Dream is—” He covered his mouth with his hands. Go figure, his panicked brain would betray him.

 

“George—?”

 

Then, Niki stunned both of them by appearing right in between them, gripping their shoulders. Her hair was wild, sticking up in odd places from the explosions. She had a wicked smile on her face, despite the predicament they were in.

 

“I’m so glad you two are okay!” she said. “Even though it’s Sapnap.”

 

“I don’t regret any of my past actions,” Sapnap said, crossing his arms.

 

Niki shook her head, dismissing the topic. “Our goal is to distract DreamXD and hopefully shuffle everyone out of here. We’ll try our best to hide away until Phil can help us.”

 

“So we have to get Karl and Quackity,” George said at the same time Sapnap rushed out, “We have to save my fiancés.”

 

“Then let’s do it.” She opened her bag to reveal the abundance of potions she carried. “I have quite the variety, but I’ve tried potions of harming and poison and they don’t seem to affect him. Besides that, I have speed, jump, regeneration, and healing potions. The first three are splash, so we can share those, and then we each get a healing potion.”

 

As she passed out the healing potions, George looked back to the fight below. Technoblade continued to sling TNT at the god as Dream fell back, clutching his arm. Reaching into his bag, Dream pulled out a potion, uncorked the bottle with his teeth, poured half on his arm, and chugged the rest. Then, he was right back in the fight with Technoblade. The only problem was that they weren’t making any progress.

 

George found himself feeling hopeless again, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time.

 

“Okay, so George, I think you should stay as far from DreamXD as possible, focus on helping Karl and Quackity. Niki and I will try to keep him away from you and secure a retreat.”

 

George swallowed down his fear and nodded. 

 

Niki held up the splash potions in her hands. “Are we ready to go down there?”

 

With another nod from George and Sapnap, she threw down the potions. Green, blue, and pink bubbles rose from the ground beneath their feet. George felt his legs become limber and restless as the feeling of needing to move took over. 

 

“We have eight minutes before the potions run out, so we need to hurry,” she said.

 

And with that, the three of them sped down the hill. George let himself slide down the last portion, his shoes digging into the ground as he stopped at the bottom. The ground ahead was now ruined from the small explosions, making it uneven and, quite frankly, ugly. It was a shame after all the work that Dream and Philza had done.

 

In the area just behind DreamXD, Karl and Quackity awaited. George ran around the back side, vaulting over a crumbling wall. He landed with a roll, only a few feet away from Karl.

 

Startled, Karl lifted his goggles from his eyes. “George!”

 

“We have to free Quackity. Where’d the sword go?” He looked around at the even more ruined house ruins. 

 

“I—” Karl pursed his lips. “The sword is stuck under that wall piece, but listen, George, does that schmuck even deserve to be freed?”

 

George drew in his eyebrows. “What? Karl?” He laughed nervously.

 

They needed to get out of here quickly but Karl just wanted to leave Quackity to possibly die? Quackity was only an earshot away. Surely he could hear, couldn’t he? And they were just discussing whether he deserved to live right in front of him?

 

Quackity had done some bad things, yes. He hurt Dream. But there was a time when they were kind to one another, especially to Karl; they were fiancés. There was time to mend relationships here.

 

“He was responsible for one of my deaths! He—” Karl stuttered as his face became cloudy.

 

“Look, Karl, I’m not sure what’s going on with you guys, but I can’t just leave him here.” The ground shook from more explosions, causing George to lay closer to the floor. He eyed the area Karl said the sword was in, mentally preparing his route. “If you don’t want to help, please at least go to the top of the hill. We’ll regroup later; keep comms with Sapnap.”

 

Karl trained his eyes on the ground, his lips trembling. He pulled his goggles back over his eyes and hugged the wall as he left.

 

With one large jump, George made it over to the fallen wall. It took a minute, but he was able to pry the sword out from beneath the rubble. Before he went to Quackity, there was another explosion, this time closer.

 

In the fight with DreamXD, George looked over at the exact time Niki was knocked to the ground. She held up her hand as if that would block the killing blow. George’s eyes widened. Then, Sapnap was there, the flat of his blade holding up the god’s hand. His hands shook as he said something to Niki above the sound of another explosion.

 

George wiped the sweat from his forehead. Keep moving. They could only stall for so long and he had to get to Quackity.

 

He slid in on his knees right before Quackity. “I’m here, we’re gonna get out of here,” he said, voice trembling, as he pulled the vines from his friend’s mouth.

 

“What the fuck is happening, George?” He bared his teeth, the gold canine shining. “You’re telling me that gods are real? This is shit. This is shit.”

 

George shrugged his shoulders and began to work on the vines binding him to the ruins. “Unfortunately. I’m going to free you now, but I’m going to need you to go to the top of the hill immediately.”

 

The last vine broke with a snap and Quackity flexed his arms. “Thanks.”

 

“Just try your best to not fight with Karl,” George said, giving Quackity’s shoulder a squeeze. “He’ll be up there, too.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him that.” With that final quip, Quackity followed the path that Karl had left on.

 

The fight with DreamXD was still raging on, but for the most part, the god took it on with silence. But at that moment, he let out a deep snarl and swept Sapnap aside with his hand. Sapnap screamed as he landed heavily on a broken fence, one of the poles impaling the muscle of his leg.

 

Niki whipped her head over to him, but looking away from the god was a mistake. Luckily, when she was hit, she landed in a shallow stream a few feet away, but she looked dazed.

 

The main problem, though, was that George could feel the potions beginning to wear off. If he couldn’t get to both of them in time, they could end up seriously hurt. Especially Sapnap. 

 

So George headed for his first, his legs burning from the exertion. “Sapnap!”

 

“Ah, fuck, George,” Sapnap sucked in a quick breath as his leg jerked. “You were supposed to go back with Karl and Quackity.”

 

“A fence pole is currently sticking out your leg, idiot.” George pulled his health potion from his belt, his hands shaking. “And our potions are running out. There’s no way you’ll get yourself free before that happens. Do you want to have permanent damage?”

 

He grunted but didn’t disagree with George.

 

“I’ll bring you up to them once we fix this, okay?”

 

“And you’ll stay there too, right?”

 

George uncorked the bottle, ready to pour it as soon as he removed the pole. So instead of answering Sapnap (god forbid he had to lie again), he pulled his leg up. He let out another scream, a rival to the new explosions going off, before biting on his sleeve. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” George repeated and winced as he poured his entire potion on Sapnap’s leg. “I don’t know what else to do and I don’t have anything to cover your leg. We have to go now, regardless of whether you can stand or not.”

 

Lifting Sapnap to his feet, George set off in Niki’s direction. If she could stand, she could help him carry Sapnap up the hill.

 

When they were close to the stream Niki landed in, Technoblade was there, now only holding a shield. His red eyes raked over the two of them, immediately taking in their wounds. 

 

“What happened to him?” Technoblade asked.

 

“What happened to you throwing TNT?” George shot back.

 

He grumbled. “We’re all out. Dream’s fighting on his own since I went to help Niki.”

 

George’s face paled as his stomach churned. “He’s out there alone?” He shoved a groaning Sapnap into Technoblade’s arms. “Please take him to the top of the hill for me.”

 

“George? Hey, wait, George!”

 

He ignored him as he ran back into the ruins.

 

“Don’t go back out there, George!” 

 

Halfway to where Dream and DreamXD were fighting, the potions wore off. Not ready for the change in pace, George’s foot hooked in a hole caused by an explosion. He caught himself with his hands briefly, and then his chest hit the ground. 

 

There couldn’t be any more setbacks! They were in the homestretch; everyone else was out of the god’s range. It was just Dream. Wonderful, strong, heroic Dream. George’s sun. 

 

When George stood, Dream fell to his knees before the god. His shield lay discarded a few feet away, his sword nowhere to be seen. 

 

“I wanted you to live, I really did,” DreamXD said. “You wreak chaos with every step you take, and I wanted you to continue. But the moment you swept your hand across George, the moment you decided to take him away from me…”

 

Dream grit his teeth, still ready to fight with his fists. “Get it through your thick fucking skull already: he’s not—” He was cut off when one of DreamXD’s disconnected hands closed around his throat.

 

“You took my George away from me! You have been a pain in my plans. You do not deserve to live anymore, Dream.”

 

And George couldn’t hear anything. He could feel his neck straining as he screamed, but there wasn’t any sound. Not even when his footsteps pounded across the stone, the dirt, tripping and stumbling, but never stopping.

 

When the sword materialized in DreamXD’s hand, Dream and George locked eyes. There were a million words and no sound. He couldn’t hear what he was saying. Was Dream even saying anything? The water was rising and it was red. It was the red that escaped Dream’s mouth. The red that blossomed from the hole in his chest.

 

And it was the red—the very same color that George could swear to the ends of the earth that he couldn’t see—that took over his vision as he reached DreamXD.

 

George grabbed the god’s cloak, trying his best to budge him from his spot. “You’re fucking dead to me! You’re dead to me, XD! Do you hear me?!” He pounded his fists against him.

 

“It’s time to leave, George,” the god said calmly.  “Say your goodbyes.”

 

George dropped to his knees beside Dream, hands reaching for any and every part of him. “Dream, Dream, we’re going to—” His words stuck in his throat as his hands ran over his wound, the blood continuing to flow. 

 

Dream was quickly paling as he coughed, thick with blood. His eyes tried to focus on George, but he couldn’t find his eyes. George pulled him into his lap and cradled his head, smearing blood on his cheek. It was like Dream couldn’t feel that, either; he wasn’t reacting to his touch.

 

“I don’t have any more potions on me, Dream,” he choked out. “Fuck, please just say something.” George waited for him to register his voice, but it wasn’t happening.

 

Then, just as DreamXD began to rest his hand on George’s shoulder, there was a flash of blinding light. Piece by piece, George watched as DreamXD eroded away with a blood-curdling scream, his dust blowing away in the wind.

 

Dream had stopped breathing.

Notes:

WOOOOOO. I just want you guys to know that there's no greater joy than killing off a character. Like, it's awesome writing it, but I also enjoy reading angst because of the way that it can make you really feel. So just knowing that I have this power. Yeah.

You guys are a little lucky on that front, though, because my original plan for this chapter was killing Dream AND George (losing a "canon" life), so you were slightly spared.

And can I just say? I'm so proud of what I did in this chapter and I'm just going to bring it up in case you guys didn't notice (and it's been a while since the first chapter): I alluded to Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity appearing in this chapter since the beginning (with the bandanna, goggles, and a beanie floating in the blood-stained water of the aquarium). And then, of course, when George steps on Dream's mask and it cracks. Since you know. He dies. Ahahahahaha anyways. It's also kind of funny that in the canonical lore all of dtkq are involved with DreamXD now and that's satisfying.

So the next chapter is the last one story-wise (the very last is deleted scenes because I hate completely throwing away the things I cut). Hopefully, that won't take as long to write, but I don't have anything written yet, just my outline. But! when I do finish it, I'll post the last two chapters right after editing.

Socials: you can find me on instagram as weaktoad (art acc, with a changed name!), omg_imademigod (pjo fan acc), or on tiktok as weaktoadtinysea

Chapter 11: Dream POV

Summary:

Limbo isn't just a dance. It's walking in a field of forgotten memories.

Notes:

Hi! I made my goal of finishing this before the end of July!! I'm so proud of myself! It's almost been a year since I first started writing this story (my first concept comic was posted on tiktok on august 5th) and I've loved every minute of it. Anyway, I'll leave the longer note for the end (and maybe something after the deleted scenes chapter) and you guys can go ahead and read the chapter :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dream pushed through a field of tall yellow grass, his uncalloused hands touching each stalk he passed but he couldn’t feel it. The grass stuck to his t-shirt every few seconds but it didn’t slow him down. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he was determined to reach the end.

 

Well, if there was an end.

 

For what felt like days, maybe weeks, Dream had been walking through this field. The grass was spread all around him, all the way to the horizon. The sun was always shining above with sparse clouds in the sky. And there was no one else here, no mobs nor animals. Not only that, but it was strange that he didn’t get tired.

 

He couldn’t go backward, either. Well, Dream supposed he could, but that would undo whatever progress he was thinking he made. It was difficult to tell if progress was a thing here. Wherever here was.

 

Then, when the wind blew and the grass shifted, there was something in the distance, something past the field. Dream picked up his pace, letting his legs stretch out longer and farther. 

 

In the clearing, there was a large lake with clear water that shone in the sun.

 

Dream could feel his heart pounding, not because he was running, but because it tugged on something deep within him. A memory, an attachment, a feeling—a feeling of love and comfort and warmth. And if it was possible, he ran faster.

 

Dream stopped at the edge of the clearing, staring at the lake. This was the lake where the community house was supposed to be, but the surroundings weren’t right. For one thing, there were mountains and hills around the real lake, but there were also no buildings here. But Dream was sure this was the lake.

 

Kneeling to the ground, Dream dipped his hand in the water and watched the water ripple. Unlike the surrounding grass, he could feel the water. It was cool and clean, a refreshing feeling from the last few days.

 

He looked up again and saw a lectern standing in the center of the lake. Sure, that was strange, but was anything else here normal? So Dream saw that the only logical option was to wade into the water and investigate.

 

As Dream continued in through the water, it got progressively harder. It wasn’t getting deeper, but the water felt heavier like it was actively pushing against him. It was physically draining, too. Suddenly, the days of walking were weighing on him and the lake wasn’t doing him any favors. Still, he used the muscles in his legs to propel him further. 

 

Finally, as he made it to the lectern, Dream saw a book resting on it. He ran his hand across the leather cover, letting his fingers trace the lettering. In his own handwriting, it read, “The Revival Book.”

 

With shaking hands, Dream opened the book to the first page. The page… was blank. That wasn’t right, the first page was supposed to be the introduction, an address to the gods, a… wait, was that right? What belonged on the first page again?

 

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. The cream-colored page stayed blank. So he flipped to the next. And the next. And the next. Every single one of them was blank.

 

He knew that wasn’t right, but what words, what sentences, paragraphs, used to be scrawled from top to bottom? Dream frantically flipped through the pages, finding the same exact thing. The characters that were once burned into his eyes, the ones he could see when he closed his eyes, were gone.

 

And then, when he flipped to a center page, his reflection stared back at him. His face was young, free of scars. His hair was combed and cut short. His eyes were a warm and kind green. He drew in his eyebrows, watching as his lips set into a frown.

 

Dream flipped to the next page and then there was a scar cut through his eyebrow. He touched it lightly with his fingers. He could definitely feel it there. 

 

So then he turned to the next, and a searing pain ripped across the bridge of his nose. On this page, his reflection showed blood dripping down his face, his hand scrambling to cover the cut. The blood rolled down to his chin, a drop landing on the page. The book absorbed it quickly and Dream’s reflection tinted red.

 

Cuts continued to appear on his skin, from his arms to his legs, and of course, his face, in every place that he had once been hurt. They each bled onto the book and into the water as if he was feeding—no, sacrificing his blood.

 

And the pain was unimaginable, especially once a hole was ripped through his chest. He was already dead, wasn’t he? If he was dead, why did it feel like he was about to die again? He felt like he was being torn apart and put back together over and over again. His breath was stolen and forced back down his throat as he doubled over, gripping the sides of the lectern. His ears began to ring as his mouth turned sour. If there had been anything in his stomach, he surely would’ve thrown it up.

 

Then, everything went black.

 

Dream sat up, gasping for air and clutching his chest. The blood, the hole, the cuts—they were all gone. The wooden floor beneath him, as well as his clothing, were cold to the touch. And he supposed the most startling thing was that there was a full room of people staring at him.

 

Taking them in one by one, Dream slid backward, pushing himself with his hands, until his back hit the door with a thud. From left to right stood Quackity, Niki, Technoblade, Philza, Ranboo, Karl, and then Sapnap (who sat in a chair with a bandage on his leg). And then, he realized that he was inside Technoblade’s house, with the fireplace crackling and spreading warmth throughout the room.

 

Behind everyone, George stood at the fireplace, one hand slowly moving away from the fire. He stepped toward Dream, gently moving past Philza and Ranboo. George’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his cheeks rosy as his lips trembled. Did he just…?

 

Dream opened his mouth but it was dry, and even then, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do as George knelt in front of him, grabbing his hand. Dream’s skin tingled from his hand all the way up his arm; he could feel him and it was so real.

 

“It worked,” George said, pulling Dream into a hug. And, with his voice thick, he repeated, “It worked, it worked! I was so afraid that it wouldn’t.”

 

Dream froze as George nuzzled his face into Dream’s shoulder, unsure of what to do as George squeezed him tighter. Over George’s shoulder, everyone continued to stare. Panic unlike anything Dream had ever felt before started bubbling in his chest, blocking his airways. His mind raced like his thoughts were going to swallow him whole, but he couldn’t focus on a single one. 

 

Out of the surrounding group, Philza was the first to leave his stupor, stepping forward. “So, the revival book does work.”  He stopped in front of Dream and George.

 

George’s arm loosened as he slowly pulled away from Dream, finally giving Dream space to breathe. As much as he had always wanted George to hug him like that, he felt like he was on the verge of dying. A little ironic, after being brought back to life.

 

“How do you feel, Dream?” Philza asked, folding his hands into his sleeves. 

 

Even though he opened his mouth to speak, Dream didn’t feel like he knew what to say. His voice was there, but speaking would’ve pushed on his vocal cords in a way that felt foreign to him now. Not only that, but the thought that everyone else he had used the revival book on probably went through something similar sent his head spinning. Vikkstar, LazarBeam, Tommy, Wilbur… Everything that he’s worked on the past few months felt fresh again.

 

To put it simply, he didn’t feel good.

 

Quackity pushed past Philza so he was standing in front of Dream and George. With his past wounds phantom fresh on his skin, Dream flinched at Quackity’s powerful stance above him and the words he spoke. “Who cares how he feels! He’s back and he still owes me a copy of the revival book. Unless he wants to go back to—”

 

George slid in front of Dream, blocking his view. “What the hell is wrong with you, Quackity? He just got revived!”

 

“So the process should be fresh on his mind.”

 

“I didn’t invite you into my house to attack my friends,” Technoblade said.

 

“Sorry I tend to stick to my goals and ambitions.”

 

“That’s a funny thing for you to say,” Karl butt in.

 

“Karl, we’ll talk about this later in private, please—” Sapnap tried, but then was quickly spoken over by Philza.

 

“Our focus should be on Dream right now—”

 

Soon enough, everyone was speaking over each other. Everything was so loud. Sure, everyone fighting would’ve been enough to drive anyone mad, but Dream’s thoughts had begun to race. Quackity’s words, despite how harsh they were, made him realize something. The revival book was really gone. He couldn’t remember any of it.

 

He felt useless. 

 

While no one was focused on him, Dream reached up behind him, turned the doorknob, and slipped outside. The air was biting cold on his bare arms, but it was a lot quieter outside. He wasn’t really dressed to be outside, still wearing his jeans and leather boots from the fight, but it looked like someone had at least changed him into a new shirt. 

 

Dream reached for the railing so he could pull himself up on his shaky legs. In that other world, what Dream could relate to what Wilbur always called his “limbo,” He couldn’t feel anything. Now, his body felt heavy and things had more resistance than he had gotten used to. He needed to readjust to the living again.

 

As he made his way down the steps, the door to Technoblade’s house opened. Dream didn’t know who he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Ranboo. The two of them briefly locked eyes before Ranboo’s swept away toward the ground.

 

“It’s loud inside.” Ranboo shuffled past Dream, his shoes crunching in the snow.

 

Dream hurried his pace, catching up to Ranboo. Again, he felt the need to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

 

“You know,” Ranboo started, “George is really making a stance against Quackity in there for you.” He stopped at Technoblade’s dog pen and reached inside to pet one. The dog shut its eyes as Ranboo scratched behind its ear. “Do you want to pet them? The dogs liked you, right? Don’t remember too clearly.”

 

One of the other dogs set its eyes on Dream, walking closer to the fence to stick its head through the wood. Dream reached out a tentative hand until his fingers brushed the soft fur of the dog. He let his fingers thread through it and then let his nails drag lightly. The dog tilted its head into his touch, seemingly satisfied.

 

“You’d think that Quackity might back down after having no one backing him.”

 

Dream lifted his head to face Ranboo again, whose eyes were still focused on the dog in front of him. For a moment, he had forgotten what they were talking about.

 

“Well, I mean,” Ranboo stuttered. “Sapnap and George are sort of helping him, I guess? Just so Techno doesn’t pummel him.”

 

Dream’s lips quirked up slightly.

 

“Anyway, I thought I’d tell you that since, uh, since you decided to come out here. I imagine it’s a lot for you right now, probably overwhelming. I get that.”

 

While George was asleep all those months ago, Dream had prioritized building relationships with others, trying to fix the ones he messed up. Thankfully, one of the relationships he kindled was one with Ranboo. He was kind enough, albeit shy and lacked confidence, but he was slowly working on it.

 

And Dream was so glad for that right now. It was funny how Ranboo had enough confidence now to speak to Dream, but not enough to join in on the argument inside. It worked in an unexpected way. 

 

“Do you remember,” Dream began, his voice shaky and hoarse, “around when I first came here after breaking out of prison, you and Tencho brought me out here to meet the dogs?” 

 

“Um, I…” Ranboo grabbed a small book from his pocket and flipped through the pages hurriedly. “I might have written about it.”

 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to look,” Dream said, slowly becoming more sure of his voice. His hand reached beneath the dog’s chin, feeling a faint scar where the fur hadn’t regrown. “I was just curious since it feels like so long ago. It’s nice to see you again.”

 

“It wasn’t really on the best circumstances…” Ranboo put away his book and leaned on the fence pole that attached to the roof of the pen. “When Techno messaged me and Phil, we immediately demanded them to call our stasis pearls. The fact that you actually—” He covered his mouth.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We’re just lucky you always held onto that revival book, I mean, the amount of times you swatted me away from it—”

 

“Ranboo?”

 

“Mhm?”

 

Dream stopped petting the dog, instead leaving his hand to rest on its head. “I don’t remember the contents of the revival book.”

 

Ranboo’s eyes widened as he stilled and stuttered, “What do you mean? It’s just, like, reviving someone, you know it’s…”

 

“I mean that I don’t know how to write it anymore.” Dream turned his gaze to the sky, a hazy blue with dark clouds in the distance. They were probably due for a blizzard. “When I was in my limbo, I saw the book in the middle of the lake, and it was blank.”

 

“Are you sure that’s what it meant? You can’t just fill out another book?”

 

“Ranboo, it’s gone.” Then, quieter, “He wasted it on me and now I’m useless.”

 

“Whoa, hey, it’s—it’s fine, nothing was wasted, Dream.” Ranboo’s eyes were now focused directly beneath Dream’s eyes, likely watching the tears that now rolled down his cheeks.

 

“I’ve always prided myself in the information I held—all my skills—and now we can’t revive anyone if they die. I should’ve made more copies, I should’ve—” His breath hitched as he pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes.

 

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get George, just stay here.” The snow crunched behind him, slowly getting quieter as Ranboo left. 

 

After the swing of a door, everything was quiet again. 

 

Dream trembled as the cold started getting to him. He was already a little cold before, but crying made it worse. God, when did he become such a crybaby? Emotions like this used to be so far out of reach for him, but he guessed things changed when you actually let yourself feel things.

 

He removed his hands from his eyes, rubbing his arms for a second before he leaned on the fence. He needed to stop crying; it was only going to make him colder.

 

Then, the door opened again and someone bounded down the steps, hurrying over to him. “Dream!”

 

At the call of his name, Dream turned around to face George. His hair ruffled in the coming wind, dusting his cheeks a sharp shade of red. He had put on a black coat, the buttons undone in his hurry. George stopped right in front of Dream, his hands almost reaching out, but not touching.

 

“I should’ve realized before that maybe you could be overwhelmed. Ranboo just mentioned it to me and—and…” George trailed off, his mouth left slightly open.

 

Dream searched George’s face, from the slight stubble on his chin, his soft lips, the red on his cheeks, all the way to his hair that brushed against his eyes. George reached up and fixed his hair, lowering his eyebrows. Even being so worried, George never failed to be handsome.

 

“He told me you were crying.” George swallowed.

 

“Yeah, I mean, maybe but,” Dream sputtered. He was trying to get used to things again, and of course, one thing he had to get used to again was George’s handsome face. That was all. Mhm.

 

“Is it okay…?” George rested a hand on Dream’s cheek, brushing his thumb beneath Dream’s eye. Tingles spread through the path George swept over his skin, catching a tear that hadn’t fallen yet. “Jeez, you’re so cold. Why don’t we step in Phil’s house? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

 

His touch was light and warm as George slipped his hand into Dream’s, slowly guiding him toward the other house. While his touch was overwhelming at first, experiencing things outside had helped him adjust a little. Now, George’s hand felt like a grounding force. This was George. He always made everything better.

 

Once they stepped inside, George went to light a fire in the fireplace. He crouched low to the ground, adjusting the wood before cracking together a flint and steel. Dream watched, tangling his fingers together, unsure if he was supposed to do anything. In no time, the fireplace was lit.

 

George stood up and brushed some soot off his pants, turning and smiling at Dream. “C’mere; it’s warm.” He motioned with his hand, gently resting a hand on Dream’s shoulder when he approached.

 

Warmth prickled over Dream’s skin, starting from his fingers as he reached forward. 

 

“Let me grab you a blanket. I think he keeps them over here…” His voice got quieter as he turned away.

 

Dream kept his eyes on the fire, tempted to touch the flames. It was so warm, and though he knew it could hurt, he still felt weird about being revived. Surely if he just—

 

“Dream! I found them!” George’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Do you prefer the green—I think it’s green—or brown one? You know, why am I asking, you probably want the green one.”

 

This time, Dream turned his head to look at George. He held a green blanket in his hand as he stepped over a box of trinkets on the floor. His face had started to return to its normal color as he recovered from the cold, but his hair was still a little messy. George looked up at Dream as he held out the blanket.

 

What was Dream thinking? He didn’t want to make trouble for George; he was already doing so much. He lost a canon live for Dream. And now? Now what? 

 

Dream gingerly took the blanket from George, letting it unfold before he draped it over his shoulders. He pulled on the edges, tucking himself in. “Thank you.”

 

“Are you hungry? I can go grab something from the kitchen,” George offered.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

George knit his eyebrows. “What do you mean? How could you not know?”

 

Dream flattened his hand on his stomach, then twisted his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t remember what it’s like to be hungry. George, I was there for weeks.”

 

“You were only dead for about a day; we tried to get you back as fast as possible.” He gestured toward Dream, almost as if he was going to touch him.

 

Dream bites the inside of his cheek, thinking for a moment. “Have you ever heard Wilbur talk about the time when he was dead?”

 

George shrugged. “I’ve heard pieces here and there. I don’t talk to him that often,” he admitted.

 

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath, “as far as I can tell, everyone has their own limbo. Wilbur said his was a train station and he spent over a decade there. Although, he had only been dead for about five months.”

 

The room was silent aside from the crackling of the fire. Dream tugged on the edges of the blanket, flicking his fingers on the cloth in a repetitive motion. Dream lifted his gaze to George, but he was staring at the fire, likely lost in thought. He has his thinking face on, with his eyebrows drawn in, his hand on his chin, and the tips of his fingers grazing his lips.

 

“So what does this mean for you?” George finally made eye contact with him. “You weren’t dead for months.” 

 

“No, but it felt longer than that. I, um.” Dream began to stutter on his words. “It was at least a few weeks. But I’m not sure. The sun never set, I—it just kept—” Dream ran a hand through his hair, causing the blanket to slip from his shoulders slightly.

 

Then George’s hand was there again, holding the blanket in place before it could fall. He held Dream’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Why don’t we sit?” George squeezed Dream’s shoulder one more time before he moved to push one of the chairs toward the fireplace.

 

Dream sat as George pulled over another for himself. The sound of the chair legs dragging across the wooden floor stopped when George sat beside Dream. He turned to face Dream as he placed a hand on his knee. 

 

Training his eyes on George’s hand, Dream continued. “I walked through a field of yellow grass the whole time. I didn’t even know what I was trying to find. I couldn’t feel anything . And then I saw the lake.”

 

George started to pull his hand away from Dream, but Dream grabbed his wrist, holding him in place.

 

“Please,” Dream whispered. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he needed George to keep him grounded, to show him that he was alive. And he was getting there, he was; he just needed George.

 

“Okay. It’s okay, Dream.” His hand relaxed, gliding gently up to Dream’s thigh. “What happened at the lake?”

 

“It was the lake where the community house was built, but it was empty except for a lectern in the center. And the moment I stepped into the water, it was like all my exhaustion suddenly caught up with me. The worst part was that the book on the lectern was the revival book. But it was empty until I turned to a page with my own reflection and I—” Dream’s fingers traced the scars on his face before he rubbed his eyes. “It hurt, George.”

 

George pulled Dream’s hand away from his face, smoothing his thumb over Dream’s knuckles. “You’re okay now.  I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

 

“I don’t remember how to write the revival book anymore.” He let the words drop from his mouth like it was acid. He felt ashamed. George spent so much time visiting the prison for things to not just go back to square one, but for both of them to go down a life. Did George even know what happened? Could he feel a life being stripped from him as he burned the last book?

 

“I think that’s for the best.”

 

Dream whipped his head up to George with his mouth slightly agape.

 

“I mean,” George began, looking down at their hands and tracing one of Dream’s scars. “The revival book has always been something that brought a lot of pain to people, whether it was through the struggle to get it or the use of it. That includes you, too.”

 

“But I wanted to fix—”

 

“You’ve done as much fixing as you could in terms of the revival book. At this point… it’s just better if we move past it. Try to focus on other things.”

 

They sat in silence again for a few moments as George held Dream’s hand, the feeling almost as warm as the fire. Things were a lot more comfortable now. Although, Dream knew that just about anything could be comfortable if he was holding George’s hand. 

 

Dream leaned his forehead on George’s shoulder. He was a little afraid to face him while asking his next question. “Did you feel it? When you revived me?”

 

George threaded his fingers through Dream’s hair, startling him for a second. It reminded him of the times long before Dream terrorized the SMP. George was a lot more open then, much more willing for physical contact. 

 

Before he spoke, George lightly dragged his nails against Dream’s scalp and Dream shuddered. “I’ve never lost one of my lives before, but it’s a drastic difference from a regular everyday feeling. But I knew what I was getting into.”

 

Dream stayed quiet so George could continue, letting himself get lost in George’s voice and touch.

 

“Ranboo told me about the rules of the revival book, that if there wasn’t a name written in at the end, the user would lose a life. An equivalent exchange. There wasn’t exactly anyone else who could do it; not anyone I’d let, anyway. I don’t regret it, either. Sapnap tried—he wanted to make amends.”

 

“Does he still want to?” Dream mumbled into George’s chest. 

 

Dream had always wanted things to go back to normal. Well, as normal as can be. But when he actually started putting in the work—in the real way things were supposed to be fixed, not in a violent way—he realized that it could never go back to the way it was. They had to create something new, where everyone was comfortable and as happy as the world would let them be.

 

Sapnap was someone that he didn’t try to fix things with. Mainly because he was trying to avoid the people that were trying to kill him, and Sapnap was one of the strongest people he knew. Surely, speaking to him any time before now would’ve meant an early death. Although, it’s not like he didn’t see that through already.

 

Besides that, Dream missed their brotherly love. He missed all the teasing, the roughhousing, the noogies, and all the races and friendly competition they held between each other. If Sapnap was willing to rebuild their friendship, so was Dream.

 

“Of course,” George said. “Sapnap and I are still friends. How are we all going to hang out if the two of you don’t get along.”

 

Laughter started to bubble up in Dream’s chest, causing him to lightly shake.

 

George, however, must have mistaken it for crying. He removed his hand from Dream’s hair, instead grabbing both of his shoulders to pull him away. “Whoa, Dream, are you okay?” He searched Dream’s face, probably for tears, but when he didn’t see any, the worry on his face began to clear.

 

“Yeah,” Dream said, sighing through his nose. He gave George a small smile “It’s just, you know, you’re so… you.”

 

George tilted his head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Dream’s smile grew. “You only want us to get along because it’ll inconvenience you if we don’t.”

 

With his hands sliding away from Dream’s shoulders, George scoffed. “What—?”

 

“No, obviously you just love us too much to see us fight. I know you’re secretly sweet.” He said that as if he hadn’t just been in George’s arms, receiving more care than he’d gotten in a long time. After all, George wasn’t being so secretive about his sweetness now.

 

George sputtered. “Well, I guess you’re feeling better now.” He shifted in his seat like he was about to get up, but Dream stopped him.

 

“Wait, wait, George, I was just joking!” He grabbed George’s hand again, placing it back on his head. “George, I need you.”

 

George bit his lip in contemplation before he spoke. “Oh, you need me?” He ran his fingers through Dream’s hair again.

 

Shivers ran down Dream’s spine, starting from George’s fingertips. He could stay like this forever. “You’re too nice to me,” he whispered.

 

“That’s not true; you deserve it all. Listen, I care about you, okay?” Then, tucking his face into Dream’s hair, he admitted, “I can’t really live without you.” He pressed his lips into the top of Dream’s head.

 

“George…” Butterflies fluttered in Dream’s stomach. Man, he really loved George.

 

“Hm?”

 

Before Dream could speak his mind, the door to the house opened. Of course, someone was bound to walk in, especially since it was Philza’s house, not their room in the Syndicate base. However, that didn’t mean that Dream couldn’t get upset at Ranboo walking in, causing George to pull away from him.

 

“Sorry, I said I was coming right back,” Ranboo said, closing the door behind him. “But I kinda got caught up inside Techno’s, and then I couldn’t figure out where you guys went and…” He looked between the two men. “Am I interrupting something?”

 

“No,” George stuttered, standing. “We were just, uh, just getting ready to go back. I mean, you’re feeling better now, right Dream?”

 

Everything in him wanted to say no, he needed more alone time with George. But the truth was that he was feeling better; George helped him a lot. Dream set that aside, though. They would have more time later to hang out and hold onto each other if George wanted to. 

 

“I’m good.” Dream tried to give him his best smile, closing his eyes instead of making eye contact.

 

George extended out his hand to help Dream up, his grip tight when he held on. Things were going to be okay.

 

 

In the next few hours, Dream spent time talking with the members of the Syndicate, Karl, and Sapnap. At first, he had tried talking with Quackity, as much as he hated to. Once Quackity found that there wasn’t anything for him to gain, he left. Immediately, everyone seemed less tense.

 

Philza and Niki left for the kitchen shortly after to make a big dinner for everyone. They needed things to go back to any sort of normal they could handle; they had just presumably killed one of the gods of the SMP. Nobody knew what that meant. So, they decided to have roast chicken, baked potatoes, bread, and cake.

 

In the meantime, the rest of them sat in Technoblade’s house, sprawled across all the different surfaces. He didn’t have many seats, and Sapnap already took one of them with his leg being tended to by Karl, who sat on a side table. The other was occupied by Technoblade himself, who sat by the fire, stoking it and adding wood when it was needed. Ranboo sat on the floor with his legs stretched out. And then, Dream and George sat on a double chest as if it were a sofa.

 

They were debating on playing a game of cards or something similar when Sapnap spoke abruptly.

 

“George, why don’t you come back and live in Kinoko?”

 

Dream’s eyes instantly landed on George. The aforementioned picked at the wood on the chest, digging his nail in. “I didn’t know if…”

 

When he trailed off, Dream tried to mentally fill in the blank. He didn’t know if they wanted him there? If it would be safe? If he wanted to? If Dream was allowed to come with? Dream really hoped for the last one. For it to be that George wanted him to be there, and if he did, that Dream was allowed to go.

 

Thankfully, Sapnap had the same thought as Dream. “Dream can come with. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

 

George looked up at Dream, asking him silently. Did Dream want to go to Kinoko Kingdom? Dream would go anywhere with George, even if it meant that they were leaving the habitable SMP altogether. He simply didn’t want to live without George; he couldn't.

 

Dream smiled at George, trying to tell him it would be okay. He rested his hand on top of George’s, stopping him from continuing to scratch into the wood of the chest.

 

“That sounds nice,” George admitted, squeezing Dream’s hand back. “I would love to go back home.”

 

Home, huh? Dream let his thumb brush over George’s knuckles. 

 

Technoblade dropped another log in the fireplace, causing embers to float up into the chimney. “You’re plannin’ on livin’ in a place with a government? A kingdom, no less?” Then, he turned to Sapnap and Karl. “No offense to my guests, but I’m not your biggest fan. Can’t have one of my newest members goin’ back on our ideals.”

 

“Well, it’s not too much of a government,” Karl huffs. “We don’t have a real ruler. If anything, George is our unofficial handsome prince.”

 

George’s face reddens at that, and Dream can only think about how much he wants to kiss his rosy cheeks. Whoa. Okay. His feelings have definitely gotten stronger.

 

Technoblade frowned at that, though, still skeptical.

 

“That is true, but it’s okay, Techno. I’ll be there to keep an eye on them, make sure they don’t become tyrannical.” Dream glanced over at Sapnap and Karl, fighting back the smile that grew on his face. “The Syndicate could probably benefit from a good ally.”

 

“If that’s not enough to convince you, I’ll do periodic visits to make sure Dream keeps his word,” Ranboo offers. Good job, Ranboo. Dream ought to give the kid more credit sometimes.

 

Technoblade grumbled a little more, but then some like, “maybe I’ll visit too” managed to come out of his mouth, along with a few words about taking down governments. Hopefully, that didn’t mean disaster for Kinoko. 

 

Then, Niki peeked her head through the door, announcing that dinner was ready. When everyone stepped outside, Philza was finishing setting up the table and setting down food. Dream knew that there was a dining room underground in the base, but he figured that Technoblade didn’t want to invite Sapnap and Karl down there. So, outside seating it was.

Heat rose in heavy clouds above the food, so everyone quickly dug in, not wanting the food to get cold. That, and the storm looked like it was getting closer. No one wanted to be outside for that.

 

As they were having dessert, Niki offered to have a dinner in Kinoko Kingdom, under better weather. “It’ll be easy, considering my underground city is so close. I’ll be able to use my kitchens and make something amazing.”

 

Karl’s face brightens at that. “We actually have a picnic area set up by Squid Lagoon! We built it a few months ago and it’s only had a handful of gatherings.”

 

“We’ll have to plan it soon,” Niki said. “When are you and Sapnap planning on returning to Kinoko?”

 

Karl hummed, watching as Sapnap shoveled cake into his mouth. “Probably as soon as Sapnap’s leg heals. We don’t want to overstay our welcome, but Sapnap needs to be able to make the trip through the nether.”

 

Sapnap nodded in between bites of cake. Then, he made the choice to speak before he finished swallowing, “George, Dream, when do you guys plan on making the voyage?” He chewed a bit more before finally swallowing. “It’ll be easy if you guys leave when we do, so we travel in a group.”

 

Anxiety stirred in Dream’s stomach. Sapnap’s leg would probably be healed within the week, if not in a few days. Technoblade was skilled at making potions and he certainly had the materials to brew them so it wouldn’t be too long. But Dream didn’t know if he was quite ready to move yet.

 

Don’t get him wrong, Dream was eager to become friends with Sapnap again, to become more acquainted with Karl. It was a wonderful opportunity. But he would miss living in the arctic, as cold as it was. There was enough warmth with all the love the people there provided. He would forever be grateful to the Syndicate for letting him stay with them as he healed, got stronger, and watched over George. 

 

That said, he felt like he had to leave the decision up to George again. Dream didn’t want to put all the weight on George, but he was too on the fence about things.

 

“Hm, I’m not sure. What do you think, Dream?” George turned to him. They were sitting next to each other, which was what Dream had wanted earlier. Now, he was worried it made it easier for George to see the quick discomfort that flashed across his face.

 

“That’s a good question.” He fiddled with the edge of the table cloth in front of him, flicking it between his fingers. Think about George. He said it himself, he wanted to go home, which meant the Syndicate didn’t feel much like a home to him, right? “We should go when they leave. That way, we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

 

Dream tried to let the lump pass through his throat, willing it to not cause him to choke on his words. Evidently, that worked. George smiled at him, his face softening.

 

“Perfect.” George’s hand found Dream’s under the table. He was getting a lot more touchy, but Dream didn’t mind. It helped soothe the bubbling worry beneath the surface.

 

 

The group retired soon after scrambling to clean up dinner when the wind picked up. Then, Sapnap and Karl were directed to stay in Wilbur’s room (who currently wasn’t there) as the rest of them went to their regular rooms.

 

And so, Dream and George sat in their room on Dream’s bed, a few candles lit on the side table. At first, he was scared to admit that he was a little scared of it being dark, especially after walking in endless sunshine, but George reassured him that he could blow out the candles once Dream fell asleep.

 

It was like George was instantly brought out of DreamXD’s spell, George had told him. Even in the span of a day, George felt like he had a lot more energy.

 

“So…” George dragged out. “Are you ready to start packing things for Kinoko?”

 

Dream bit his cheek. “Yeah, I just have to figure out what I really need.” He laughed nervously. “You know, maybe do some sorting through my items.”

 

George narrowed his eyes at Dream, leaning in close. “Something’s wrong.”

 

He sputtered at George’s words. “Something’s wrong? George, I’m fine. Why would I—if I was I would, like, you know. George, come on.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So then you would say that you’re entirely sure about the decision to live in Kinoko? No reservations at all?”

 

“I don’t know why you’re so pressed about this.”

 

George pulled his legs up onto the bed, tucking his feet underneath. “Because you’re being weird! You’re an idiot if you think I can’t see through this.”

 

“Well, I think you’d consider me an idiot either way.”

 

“That’s true, but don’t try to change the subject.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to.” Dream would never confirm nor deny whether he actually was, but that’s none of George’s business. “I’m happy to go to Kinoko Kingdom, it’s what you want.”

 

“There.” George leaned over Dream’s lap with his hands on either side. Dream, subsequently, leaned back, startled. “What I want? What about what you want?”

 

To put things shortly, Dream was flustered. George hovered right over him, their bodies almost touching. If Dream hadn’t moved, their chests would be against each other. Right then, his skin was hot and his mind was short-circuiting. What he wanted was to grab George by his waist and pull him in for a kiss. Dream didn’t think that was what he was asking for, though.

 

“Seriously, George, I wasn’t lying about that.” He pressed his fingers into George’s chest so he would move away, but George only budged a little. “The only thing I’m hesitant about is leaving so quickly.”

 

George’s face softened. “Then why did you seem so eager to leave earlier?”

 

“Listen, I’m not so sure about what I want,” Dream stuttered. “Whenever I think about the future, I always imagined staying with the Syndicate for a long time, if not forever. The position is ideally away from the places I’ve damaged and I really enjoy being here. Technoblade, Niki, Philza, and Ranboo have been so welcoming and they helped give me a purpose. They helped me stay on track.”

 

George leaned back more, giving Dream the space he needed to continue.

 

“But I also know that Kinoko Kingdom is your home, or, or at least it was.” Dream drew in his eyebrows for a moment as he thought. “And Sapnap and Karl will be there. I want to show people that I can be kind and build relationships again. I want to have good relationships. But really, I just want to go wherever you are.”

 

Dream looked away from George, rubbing the back of his neck. The bad parts of his mind waited for the stinging rejection, the repulsion George would have at Dream thinking that way. Even if they were friends, George could surely see through the line he was trying to cross.

 

On the other hand, he was a little hopeful. He was open to receiving all the love and warmth George had to offer and more than ready to return it. 

 

So when George opened his mouth and took a deep breath, Dream’s heart sped up.

 

“Dream, that doesn’t matter to me.”

 

His heart dropped. This was it. The worst-case scenario was happening. He thought that maybe things couldn’t get worse after dying, but here he was, falling apart. Dream’s mouth opened a few times, trying to form words, but came up short every time. His soul had been crushed.

 

Luckily—or maybe unluckily—George understood immediately. “Wait, wait, that came out wrong. I… I mean I don’t care about having to be in Kinoko.  I’ve considered a lot of places my home. You know that. I’ve lived in the community house, my underground base, with Sam, a cottage, Kinoko Kingdom—I even considered here as home for the few weeks I’ve been awake.”

 

“Then what—?” Dream clenched his fists, looking for something to hold onto. And then George took his hands.

 

“What I mean to say is that I feel similar to you. You’re my home, Dream.” George glanced away, looking at the floor as his cheeks reddened. “You make me feel comfortable and happy wherever we are. It doesn’t matter if we’re in Kinoko Kingdom, the Syndicate, or even thousands of meters away from the living SMP. I’ll always have a home in you. You’re, you’re my Sun. You brighten my life, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything, even if I burnt up in your rays.”

 

“George…” Dream swallowed, glancing down at George’s lips. Fuck, if George said anything else, he didn’t know if he could stop himself from kissing him.

 

“Dream, can I kiss you?”

 

That was all he needed to capture George’s lips with his own. Their noses bumped in Dream’s rush, but he didn’t really care. George’s lips were soft and pliant, warm and welcoming. Dream pulled back for a moment, letting his breath mingle and mix with George’s.

 

“Yes, yes you can,” Dream mumbled into his lips, hands finding George’s waist.

 

“You’re a little too late to that.” George’s lips grazed Dream’s as he spoke, almost as if he was teasing him. “We’ve already gone and kissed.”

 

Dream kissed George lightly again, smiling. “ I kissed you , idiot. You can still kiss me.”

 

While Dream was sure George wanted to argue about that, George threw that away in favor of kissing Dream again. He threaded his fingers through Dream’s hair, lightly scraping his nails. Dream shivered from his touch but only went for more. He would take as long as George was giving.

 

“Two things: you’re the idiot,” George said, moving one of his hands to rest on Dream’s. “And we can take as long as we need, Dream.”

 

Maybe things were still shaky about moving to Kinoko, but they would figure it out in time. After all, they had each other to keep warm, held in an embrace. And that was one thing they could count on that would hold steady.

Notes:

I'd like to thank TinaKitten for having a very long raft stream two weeks ago so I could focus and write out this chapter while I watched the vod. But also I probably would've gotten this out a little earlier if she also didn't start streaming for sussy sunday. Anyway.

I'd also like to thank everyone for reading my story :') I've never written something this long before (the longest story I've ever written was only around 30k and I never finished it). All the comments and kudos really helped push me along to keep writing, even when my schedule fell apart. And thank you to the silent readers! It's crazy to me that this story got over 2k hits before I even finished it, especially since when I was younger and used to write on wattpad (congrats to younger me getting ~400 reads for every story I started and never finished).

I'm so glad that I could figure out a way to end this, too. Like I've said, I've never really finished writing any stories that weren't short stories, and even then, I struggle with writing endings. But I'm satisfied with this. And expect to see more of RYS!Dream and RYS!George, since I'm working on a Ranboo-centered story in this universe. I plan to have a lot of Dream in it (since it takes place during George's long slumber) and a bit of George.

So I'm uploading the deleted scenes right after this (after a teensy bit of editing my commentary on them) and then this story will be marked as completed!

If you want any updates on any further writing I may be doing, you can subscribe to my ao3 account, my fanart acc (weaktoad), my tiktok (weaktoadtinysea), or even my pjo fan acc (omg_imademigod).

Chapter 12: Deleted Scenes

Summary:

Deleted scenes. I don't really like completely getting rid of my ideas, so you guys can see what scenes I changed/removed from the story! Plus, it might give a little more insight into the writing process if anyone is curious :)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

I cut this because I felt like people were just lining up to talk to George to ask him what it was like lmao. I like Quackity’s dialogue for this but it felt a little too rushed for him to be talking to Sam and Quackity here, just to ditch them for Sapnap.

 

Occurs right after George’s first visit to the prison: 

 

“He wrote it for you? Just like that?!” Quackity pounded his fist on the wall outside the prison. 

 

Sam turned to Quackity, holding up a reassuring hand. “We’re lucky he talked, calm down.” George speculated that Sam was somehow more worried about how Quackity kept punching the wall like it would damage the prison.

 

“But I’ve been at it for months! He can take what I throw at him but he takes one look at Mr. Pretty Boy and he’s drooling over him!” 

 

“Hey,” George says. “It wasn’t like that.”

 

Quackity narrows his eyes at him. “Whatever. We made progress.” He was back in his business tone. Great. “I need you to continue this, George.”

 

George’s communicator buzzed a few times in his pocket, distracting him from the next few things Quackity said. He pulled it out and was just able to read Sapnap’s name before Quackity snapped in his face. 

 

“Why are you looking at your communicator when I’m trying to talk to you?”

 

Quickly tucking it back in his pocket, he tried to not let the annoyance show on his face. Quackity had done the same thing to him a few days ago, so why did he care about that? “Sorry,” George managed out.

 

And that’s where I got stuck and scrapped it because I couldn’t mesh it together in a way that satisfied me.

 

 

This one is a really short deleted scene, but it was removed in favor of a much stronger one. Honestly, it was just written because I wanted a reason for him to get punished by Quackity (and in turn, George would learn about what’s happening to Dream in the prison), but it was just super weak. 

 

It was originally from chapter five, but it’s been replaced with Dream going begging George to help break him out and destroy things with him. Here’s the deleted scene:

 

“Dream, get off of me!”

 

Dream hugged George’s leg as tightly as he could. They were in the middle of a conversation but George had started to get tired, and insisted he left. Dream hadn’t even written that much yet.

 

“Please don’t leave me.” He squished his face into his leg, rubbing his nose against him.

 

“What is wrong with you?!”

 

A lot of things, Dream thought. “You can just take a nap in here while I write some more.”

 

George screwed up his face, and Dream knew his eyes were devoid of kindness at that moment. “Dream, I have to go!” He tried to turn and face across the lava pit. “Sam!”

 

“Wait, wait, George, please-”

 

“Sam!”

 

And that’s it! I just thought this was a little out of character for the way that I was writing Dream and it was incredibly pathetic lmao. Hence why it’s no longer in chapter five.

 

 

This next one was the original ending to chapter six, where George decides to break Dream out of prison. As you’ll read, I wrote that George’s and the Syndicate’s plans accidentally crash into each other, where George is in the prison as the Syndicate breaks in. However, I found that that didn’t work too well if they wanted to get Dream out of the prison, too. The only way for that is for George to then operate the levers for the platform as Sam was distracted, but I think that Sam would be too meticulous to leave the key in the system. AKA, once Technoblade was out of the cell, Dream would be stranded in the cell. Hence, I changed it so George and the Syndicate form a quick plan outside of the prison. 

 

Anyway, here’s the cut scene:

 

One last time. George was going in the prison one last time. And he would leave with Dream and they’d run away together. Okay, not like that. Not like that, but they’d live far enough away that neither Sam nor Quackity could find them. 

 

George pressed the button in the first building to the prison. Instantly, his communicator in his pocket buzzed. 

 

George, is something wrong with the revival book?

 

Of course, that would be what Sam was concerned with. He decided to go with it anyway. He needed an excuse anyway; George didn’t really have much of a plan. 

 

Yeah, I was looking over the revival book right before I was going to send it to Quackity, but I realized there’s a line missing. 

 

I’ll let you in now. We’ll get it fixed as soon as possible. 

 

George straightened his back, took a quick whiff of his herbs, and walked through the portal. Sam was waiting for him right at the entrance. 

 

“Let’s get this over with,” Sam said. “You don’t need to be here any longer than you need.”

 

George nodded his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that, but he only agreed because he wanted to get Dream out of here as fast as possible. 

 

Just as George was walking over to one of the lockers to deposit his stuff, Sam waved him back over. 

 

“That’ll take extra time, you can just take your bag with you.”

 

Now George was thinking he should’ve brought some tools with him. Dammit. 

 

They made it through all of the searches relatively fast, with an added bag check (so it didn’t matter anyway). Sooner than George had realized, they stood at the platform. The lava lowered, and George anxiously waited to see Dream. 

 

What would Dream say? What would he do? Would he really try to kill George?

 

George began to fumble with his satchel, thinking about maybe even pretending to accidentally drop the bag in the lava as the platform moved across. That way, he’d have more time to think of a plan. The only downside to that is that Dream might not be able to hold back his anger long enough for a little chat. 

 

As George continued to think, Sam went across to move Technoblade out of the cell. It had been a routine of George’s to watch as the man was ferried across and led to the courtyard. Usually, Sam had another guard or Quackity to help him with it, but Sam appeared to be here alone today. That probably meant that Technoblade would stand there with Sam as he went to talk with Dream. 

 

Just as the platform reached the alarm to the prison began to sound. 

 

Boom! And then the next chapter would be a flashback to the Syndicate having a meeting. Now things move in chronological order. 

 

 

This scene was also supposed to go in chapter six so it wasn’t so short, but I couldn’t figure out a way to incorporate it into the story without meshing weird. It’s mainly about George asking DreamXD about the revival book and if he knew how to read the text. Another problem I had with it was giving XD the right reaction, but also, why would he react this way and then not steal the book from George? That just messed with other ideas I had so I scrapped it.

 

This was originally right after George found out there wasn’t anything to eat in the cat  cafe and before XD calls Dream a monster:

 

George ran a hand down his face, then let it fall down to his side, brushing against his bag. The book felt heavier the longer he carried it. He almost considered setting it down before an idea popped into his head.

 

“Say, DreamXD,” he began, “do you know any other languages?”

 

The god tilted his head to the side. “I know all languages of this realm.”

 

“Then… can you read this?” George pulled the revival book from his satchel and flipped it open to a random page for him to see.

 

The rings around DreamXD’s face twitched as the rest of his body stilled.

 

“DreamXD?” 

 

“Why do you have this with you?” He reached out towards the book with one of his floating hands, running a finger beneath one of the lines. “You shouldn’t have this.”

 

Energy hummed in the air inside the cat cafe. George could feel the hair on his arms stand up—it was clear that something was agitating DreamXD. But it couldn’t be the book, right? 

 

“I told you before that I was visiting Dream for some information.” George tried to keep his tone even, but sometimes the god scared him. Hell, he scared most people. Just usually not George.

 

When the god tried to grab the book, George pulled it away. “George.”

 

Shock ran through his bones at hearing his name in Dream’s voice, in that tone. But he knew that DreamXD was trying to get the book, and for whatever reason, George needed to keep it.

 

Since this was more of an afterthought to add to the chapter, after the majority of it was written, this was about as far as I got when I was stumped on how to fit it in. The only way it could’ve possibly been done was if I scrapped another ending of chapter six, added this in, and then wrote a new ending. I was just a little too stubborn and annoyed at trying to get it right. Plus, I wasn’t sure what felt better so I kept it as is.

 

 

This next deleted scene was supposed to happen in chapter 10, right after XD teleports George away and he wakes up in the ruins of L’Manberg. I was really struggling to continue this chapter and got major writer’s block for weeks. I messed up my writing schedule because my laptop broke and I couldn’t write for a while and then got completely stumped. Anyway, this was what I wrote as soon as I broke my writer’s block, but then I changed the idea because I forgot I had an idea prewritten, and that didn’t line up with this lol.

 

Fun fact, when I was copying and pasting some of the dialogue that didn’t change in this chapter, it was the night before my last week of classes. And the next day I was really tired and was trying to copy and paste a script for a podcast I was writing for my environmental chemistry course. And then my tired brain forgot to actually copy it, and then accidentally pasted a piece of dialogue from the fic into my group project. Yeah. Luckily the pasted part only had George and Karl’s names in it, so I suppose it wouldn’t have been too weird; it could’ve been from any kind of story I’m writing.

 

Here it is:

 

Light shone directly into George’s eyes as he groaned. He pulled the covers off of himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, not too happy about the sun waking him up. As he flung his legs out of bed, a clanking sound stopped him. That wasn’t right. His ankle was cuffed to the frame of the bed.

 

George took a second to take in his surroundings. There was something else that wasn’t right. He was outside, in one of the beds that were left in a ruined building in L’Manberg. But the last thing he remembered…

 

DreamXD. He must’ve brought George here and healed his wounds.

 

Wrapping his fingers around the chain to the cuffs, George sighed. There had to be a way to escape, but it seemed pretty secure to the bed frame, and none of the links in the chain were close to breaking. This was probably something the god made himself, so it wasn’t too surprising. 

 

“George!”

 

His ears perked up at the call of his name, surprised to hear that person.

 

Sapnap rounded the corner of the crumbling wall, gripping the broken doorframe. [This next dialogue block is what I accidentally pasted lol] “George, I came as soon as I saw you pinged the entire server, I—” He paused to gulp in air, glancing behind him. “—came with Karl, he’s trying to scale down the hill now.”

 

“Sapnap, what are you—”

 

“George!” People apparently really liked saying his name, including Karl. He tripped on his way in, stumbling into Sapnap, who held him steady. “I’m not as fast as Sapnap, but I’m here too! We’re here to help!”

 

“Karl?” George’s eyes shifted between the two, and before he could continue to ask what was happening, someone else joined the party.

 

“You should’ve messaged me with ‘urgent,’ I almost didn’t notice between the business…” Quackity’s voice died in his throat as he slowed from his jog, stopping just before the ruined house.

 

Sapnap and Karl both turned around at his voice, Sapnap quickly reaching for Karl’s hand. It had been a long time since the four of them had last been together; El Rapids. They were so close to that same spot, too. Everything was so different now. And, to top it off, they were in a bit of a predicament.

 

Karl inched closer to Sapnap and whispered something inaudible. Quackity’s jaw tensed as—George assumed—he debated on turning away.

 

The tense air around the group was starting to make George feel sick, and with the combination of things that had been happening recently, he didn’t really like it. So, he did what he does best. 

 

“What the hell is going on?” he blurted out. His hands twisted into the blanket of the dusty bed. “How are you guys here?”

 

All three boys turned to face him, but it was Sapnap who spoke up. “What do you mean? You’re the one who sent a message to the whole server.” He started to fish out his communicator.

 

George patted down his jeans, only to find his pockets empty. “Sapnap, I don’t even have my communicator. How am I supposed to send a message?”

 

“‘If anyone can make it to L’Manberg, please come help,’” Quackity starts reading from his communicator. “‘I won’t be able to respond to messages—I can feel myself falling asleep again.’ It was sent to everyone.”

 

It made sense that Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity were the ones who came after a message like that. Quackity knew about the sleeping curse that he’d been afflicted with (which he now knew was DreamXD’s doing). And then Sapnap and Karl would probably come anytime he called for help, but the fact that it was under strange circumstances only heightened their urgency.

 

What didn’t make sense was how that message was sent. 

 

“Wait, so if you didn’t send it…” Karl trailed off. Suddenly, his shoulders hitched up as his eyes widened.

 

“I sent them.”

 

“Dream?” Both Sapnap and Quackity said at the same time.

 

Then, both George and Karl, “No. DreamXD.”

 

A few feet behind Quackity, DreamXD stood, one of his hands dangling George’s communicator between his fingers. “It’s nice to see that so many people care about my beloved George.”

 

Sapnap stepped in front of both George and Karl, a low growl escaping his throat as he said, “ ‘Your’ George? What makes him yours?”

 

“Sorry, I misspoke.” DreamXD surged forward and grabbed Quackity wrist, holding him up as he latched on half of a chain. “He’ll be mine once the three of you are out of the picture.”

 

Sapnap’s whole body momentarily tensed, but he soon broke free and drew his sword. “I don’t really know who you are, but if you don’t let go of Quackity right now…”

 

George tried to get up and pull Sapnap back, but he was just out of George’s circle of reach. “Sapnap, you can’t hurt him with a sword.”

 

“Why not? I’LL BEAT HIS ASS!” 

 

Karl stepped forward, grabbing Sapnap’s shoulder. “He’s a god. You can’t fight him. But maybe we can reason with him.” He gently pushed Sapnap out of the way.

 

“Karl, I already tried, that won’t work—”

 

“Trust me,” he said, turning to face George with a sneaky smile. “I’ve talked to this guy a hundred times. I can probably get him to see eye to eye with us.”

 

In the time that the three of them had been trying to come up with some semblance of a plan, the god had Quackity kicking and struggling as he was chained to one of the trees in the area. Unfortunately, all the kicks that landed didn’t phase DreamXD at all. Which would’ve seemed crazy to George if he didn’t already know the god was impervious—Quackity had a strong kick.

 

“XD, listen, we all know that George is a handsome guy, but there’s enough of him to go around. So maybe if you could let all of us go—” Karl grunted as he fell to his knees, his voice suddenly cutting off.

 

DreamXD stepped away from a bound and struggling Quackity to stand in front of Karl. “Useless. You failed to see this one coming, didn’t you?”

 

But then I realized I had messed up (it had been a while since I was writing this) and forgot that Quackity would probably be a little mad at George for breaking Dream out of prison. Plus, I wanted the fiancés to be a little more caught off guard and for George to sort of “sacrifice” himself, telling the fiancés to leave.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I'll be working on the next part of this series, which I've called "Dream's Prison Escape" lol. The next one is "Ranboo's Reverie," from Ranboo's POV. It begins right after George falls asleep, spanning over those months and then a bit after Dream is revived. Although, I'm not sure when that'll be updated, and it'll probably be a lot slower than I did writing this one. Mostly because I have no outline for Ranboo's Reverie, nothing except chapter one written, and my next semester of college is about to start. But we'll see.

I also might want to write a different kind of fic, centered on dnf again, but not minecraft lore lol. Really I'm just letting the writing flow take me wherever I feel like going since I finished this long fic. And also because I'm taking an intensive writing class next semester so who knows if I'll even have time to write fics. I hope I can though.

But that's all from me for now! If you want any updates on any further writing I may be doing, you can subscribe to my ao3 account, my fanart acc (weaktoad), my tiktok (weaktoadtinysea), or even my pjo fan acc (omg_imademigod). I would pop my twitter here but I don't post anything there, I just like tweets and give the occasional comment on hc threads lol.

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