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lookinghalfacorpse · 7 months

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@swordfright forced my hand. /dsmp /rp

c!sam loved c!philza.

it was easy to love him. unexpectedly easy. sam was a loner; he loved books and machinery and the big willow tree he'd sit under while he brainstormed. he thought he wouldn't love much more than that, but phil's eyes were blue and his hair and blonde and his hands were soft and kind. he took an interest in sam's work. how's a young boy supposed to resist that?

he didn't LOVE philza-- don't get it twisted, now-- he loved him the same way a son would love his father or mother. philza also happened to be beautiful, and that wasn't sam's fault. he liked to watch as phil did small, simple things. playing guitar, sewing, reading, writing. phil would join him under the willow tree, on his back with a book held a foot above his face.

(phil wasn't completely oblivious to his beauty. he managed to charm the goddess of death, after all. the gods held their own beauty, which philza was extremely familar with, but mortality had a charm of its own)

in the end, sam thought immortality was more beautiful.

technoblade thought philza was beautiful. he thought humans looked a little weird, at first. a bit deformed, a bit sickly. but he found that delicate things were lovely in their own way, and could be strong in many other ways. he'd run his big fingers through phil's hair and tease him when he got sunburnt.

dream thought philza was beautiful. sitting atop the obsidian grid, he looked down to watch the angel of death summon demons. there was beauty in power and in wisdom. in immortality. behind his mask, his head tilted--

( --dream's head landed heavy on the obsidian floor. he knew that touching the warden without permission was a risk, even if he was obviously at a disadvantage, but he wasn't expecting a reaction like this. suddenly, with his wrists captured and his torso pinned, the warden looming over him--)

(-- dream's blonde hair fanned out beneath him. his eyes were green and his hair was blonde and his hands were soft and cruel-)

don't get it twisted, now. a moment of deja vu means nothing.

#c!sam with daddy issues basically #cphilza #csam #drabbles #awesamdream #(implied anyway)#dreblr #hopefully that tag's ok to use #y'all are the target audience

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rat-rosemary · 2 months

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Do you guys remember that one fic where the dsmp watched like, Tommy's exile? Can you imagine how much worse it would be if it was them watching Dream's time in prison?

Like, there was no down time in prison. There was no friends showing up to make jokes with.

Can you imagine sitting those bitches down and making them watch the hours and hours of the prison arc?

#the dog barks #dreblr #absolutely anytime I even sit down and try to face the prision arc it gets worse (/pos)#like sure exile was bad but nothing close to the prison #I feel like there are not enough tws for the prison arc #and then it drives me insane when you think about the other characters part in it #like sure Sam and Quackity #but tommy had a watch tower #where was he when Quackity would come in daily and come out covered in blood?#ughhhh #its crazy #(/pos)#cdream #ctommy #csam #cquackity

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chrysalizzm · 1 year

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ttdtn blurb: execution

“Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, Sam?”

warnings: references to abuse, abusive relationship, references to torture, c!sam neg, vague body horror, death

for @lookinghalfacorpse's phenomenal fic the trees deny themselves nothing, which has been living in my head for the past month.

People always forget that Phil is millenniums old. That he’s put on every face there is. That he’s spoken every tongue that’s lived and died. He can clean any wound and ease any illness, and when the bombing was over and the dust had settled he’d limped through the crowd and offered potions and poultices, and consolation if they’d take it, so: of course they think he’s a senile old man who only knows pain and death. Of course.

But Sam, all of king and court magician, redstone genius and pickpocketing slummer, should know better.

And he does seem to remember, judging by the full-body flinch he greets Phil with at the door to his old workshop. All his fur roils on end, a forest of green, as he says, “Philza.”

“Hi, mate.” Phil folds his wings back demurely, watching Sam’s eyes follow the Void-black sheen of them. He steps over the threshold without waiting for an invitation to do so, steering Sam back towards his workbench with a thump on the back. He kicks the door closed behind him, and it creaks laboriously shut with a protesting groan. Sam’s gaze flickers to the door. Back to Phil’s wings. The fine, faint feathers dusting Phil’s cheeks prick up.

“Nice space you got here,” he says, real friendly-like, parking Sam’s ass in one of the only chairs that doesn’t have a chunk taken out of it for tinkering. “Gloomy and shit. Perfect for you. Is this body going blind yet?”

Sam straightens. “No,” he says mechanically. “My eyesight is perfect, thank you. I’ve improved both foveal acuity and the range of peripheral vision in my left eye. I could track in the dark.”

“Like you couldn’t before,” Phil teases. “Creeper vision and all, yeah? Though the wider periphery is nice. Bet you can see anything getting away.”

Sam’s voice comes out so stiff and starched Phil could probably make a sheaf of paper out of it. “In theory, yes.”

Phil draws his gaze away from Sam—who knows better than to run from the mythical angel that haunts every page of every history book—to observe the rows and rows of tinkertoys, the delicate baubles, the shiny trinkets. He can practically hear his feathers puffing up in glee. It’s really a shame he knows that Sam’s hands shaped them; all he wants to do is pulverize them into pretty glittering grime.

“Is there anything specific you needed, Phil?” Sam asks, apparently having regained enough of his wits to brave impatience. “I’m busy. I just got an important commission and I really need to get to it.”

“You’ll sit right there until I say you can leave or I will sprout wings of flame and turn your bones into glass,” says Phil mildly. “Is that clear?”

Silence rings out into the workshop. A leaky faucet somewhere drip-drip-drips into the hollow quiet. Sam shifts.

“...Crystal.”

“Perfect. Glad to see we’re on the same page.” Phil’s eyes flicker briefly to the ceiling, where Sam has, perhaps for posterity, installed a flimsy skylight. A crow—soon to be a whole murder of ‘em—pokes its inquisitive little head in, and Phil stifles a smile. Turning to face Sam, he tucks the smile behind the fan of his clawed fingers and asks, “Why did you lie to me?”

Sam jerks. “What?”

“You lied to me. You claimed you had no underhanded intentions with Dream, yet you took his leg and left him for dead. You claimed you were keeping no secrets, only to lie, repeatedly, to my face. You claimed you would do everything in your power to rectify your mistake, but you’ve instead made a bigger one.” Phil folds his hands over Benihime’s hilt, feeling her purr under his palm. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Sam?”

Sam, clearly not understanding what Phil’s saying, scoffs. “I never lied to you once,” he says matter-of-factly. “I adhered completely to my code of ethics as both an engineer and the Warden, and acted upon the best interests of everyone on this Server.”

“Taking out a perceived threat,” Phil agrees cheerfully. Sam stumbles over his words, caught off-guard by Phil’s concurrence, and it gives Phil the room to continue, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about what you said over and over for the past three days, mate. Had a lot of time to sorta mull things over, as like.” A minute tense of the knuckles; in the back of his head, Benihime hisses. “But that’s not all that I’m here for.”

Sam lifts his head, shucking off his redstone-stained goggles. His eyes are round: comically surprised. “It’s not?” he says.

Phil smiles with all his teeth. His wings sharpen against the air. The shadows at his feet stretch and seethe. Sam recoils.

“It’s not. I’m here not only because of those things, but also because you used Dream.” Phil’s voice unspools in a low croon. Quietly, quietly, so not even the crows overhead can hear and whisk the sacred words back to his wife. “Before the Old World fell, they had a name for what you’re doing to Dream. They called it Stockholm Syndrome. Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, Sam?”

Sam, his green pelt gone over gray like the gunpowder he’ll fade into if Phil takes a knife to his skull, shakes his head. Ever an eager student, quick to confess to his ignorance. Between becoming empress of a kingdom and a girl in the wilds running with the wolves, Phil had spent a stint as a young king’s tutor, pleased by how quickly the cunning kid caught on. One of many regrets, in the end.

“It means Dream knows how you think about him. He understands. He empathizes. He knows what you think he is, and he agrees. He might like you, Sam. He might even like you a lot, so much that he will ignore anyone trying to save him because you have convinced him he should not be saved. Maybe even that he does not deserve to be saved.” Techno had told him about the incident in the barn, and they both have eyes; you don’t survive centuries amongst the Servers without developing a sixth sense for interpersonal relations. Besides, Phil came before Techno. Much, much before, when there were names for these things, and people knew that you could look at your captor like a lover. Times have changed. People, it seems, have not.

“I don’t know all the details of what you and Quackity did to him in that prison. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. But I care that somehow, while doing what you fucks did, you convinced him that he is not a person, and that he does not deserve love, and that he doesn’t get to live.” The lurid, limpid fury that Phil had carefully banked before leaving burns back to life in his chest now, saying what he knows to be true out loud. “And he believes those things in part because he thinks he loves you.”

Phil didn’t tell Techno—he would have had a fit, and maybe snapped Sam’s neck, not that Phil would’ve been too pressed to stop him—but he’d walked in on an entirely different thing just a day or two after Dream’s first steps. He’d closed the door the moment he realized what was going on, but skin on skin, Sam holding Dream like a worshiper at the feet of an idol: Sam is fooling himself too. “And I think you might have used him. Just a thought.”

The air of the workshop is cold in Phil’s lungs as he draws in a careful breath. He’s always wary of losing his temper. It’s one thing to do it in front of Techno, who’s plenty immortal himself and could probably withstand an accidental eyeful; it’s another thing entirely to do it in a place not specially warded and enchanted and lined brick to brick with sigils to keep the eldritch from spilling everywhere. Once it gets out, there’s no getting it back in, so: deep breaths. Bit by bit, the inferno simmers low. His feathers ease back down. Benihime’s howls fade away.

Sam swallows hard, his throat bobbing in the dark. His new eye throws off bits of light when he blinks. He stands, and he smooths off his pants, and there are a thousand, a million words caught in Phil’s throat, held fast only by the pacts of gods, as the measly little mongrel of a creeper before him says, “I only do what he lets happen to him.”

Dream’s earnest face, his faint smile, drift in a golden-brown smudge across Phil’s eyes. “He only does what I let him do to me.”

Philza remembers a time before the gods walked the earth. A time before monsters and a time before the Builders. He even remembers a time before the Servers, though that’s a secret sealed in blood and ichor he’ll only divulge if he wishes to die. He remembers floods and famines and foul, fetid plagues. He remembers every bone broken, every life lost. He remembers the Nether before it was a ruin of hellfire. He remembers the End before the night swallowed it whole. He remembers the Ancient Cities when they were not so ancient, before the sculk sprayed its spores, before the Warden—the real one, not a plaything for a pathetic, mewling nuisance to emulate—came through the Builders’ doorway.

Phil has been empresses, wild children, healers, teachers, gods in human skin. Phil is the oldest thing he knows.

He feels every inch his age and horror and terrible, untethered knowledge as he sheds his skin into tongues of flame.

His limbs are End in their own way, cold Void, but that’s just because of his ill-advised dealings with the Ender King. The rest of him is Blaze Empress to the bone, blessed by Hell, kissed by Death. What manner of creature could stand against his full glory, the sheer brutality of his rage? Certainly not a silly little wannabe immortal with wide, stupefied eyes and a dumb, slack mouth. Certainly not a pitiful sack of meat and bone that whirls to pick up a golden trident and is struck down between the shoulder blades with the tip of a blade whittled so finely it winnows the ligaments of his vertebrae and sticks him to the wall opposite, where he screams and curses and makes all manner of noise.

Phil chuckles, amused. It’s a sound that no mortal was meant to hear. Quite possibly it ruptures one or both of Sam’s cochleae, because the man’s ears start to bleed as he shrieks. It’s a shame. Phil had a whole spiel ready to go.

Glossy black bodies wobble across the skylight, squawk in alarm; as one, the murder takes off to tattle to his wife. Phil throws his head back, all glorious mane of sun and storm, and cackles. Benihime has already pierced Sam’s heart, is poisoning him from the inside, a slow death by unstoppable self-mutilation: informing Death would be a mercy.

Phil folds himself back demurely into his facsimile of a body. In this way, he and Sam share something. He smooths his hair back under his hat, ducks under the doorframe, and gives the workshop a fond little pat on the wall. He’s about ten paces away when the whole thing, outbuildings and all, burst into flame. He’s twenty when he starts to laugh.

He’s forty when he starts to cry.

#dream smp #dream smp fic #dreblr #cdream #csam #cphilza #cawesamdream #it is heavily implied #chrys writes

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vilkalizer · 9 months

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tweetor is still largely nonfunctional for me and no one's posting links for surely very obvious reasons and i'm also not going to look for that for multiple reasons but apparently it was up for four days before they did anything

dumbest man on the planet may also be the worst human being on the planet even keeping in mind the competition

#child abuse #csam

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bsders · 2 years

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i didnt say i´ll let you go with out some scarring...

#dreblr #c!dream #cdream #c!sam #csam #art #endersmiler

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vaultduo · 2 months

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Sam loves Samoyeds, Samoyeds. is that why his name is sam? 🤔🤔🤔 will we ever know?? 🤔 I'll ask him tonight.. -🎭

samoyeds:

#dsmp #cdream #🎭#dsmp au #awesamdude #csam #cawesamdude #vaultduo #cvaultduo #dogs #samoyed dogs #samoyeds #samoyed #dog #/rp #rp #/dsmp

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lemonboyarts · 1 year

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c!sam didn't slept much when he was the warden often resulting in him falling asleep in the prison.

The Poor guys sleep deprived

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #awesamdude #awesamedude fanart #fanart #awesamdude fanart #mcyt fanart #art #csam #c!sam #c!samfanart #c!awesamdude #c!awesamdudefanart #dsmp awesamdude #i think hes really neat

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winniebee · 8 months

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its late and im sleepy so i might be remembering things wrong but something that really gets me abt c!dream is that he isn’t mad at, or at least doesn’t do anything about, any of the other people who knew about the torture and did nothing. he wasn’t mad at c!bad or c!ant. and the only revenge he initiated completely on his own without prompting was against c!q. I wonder if he was even going to do anything about c!sam until he found him face to face in the prison, or if he just though that c!techno would finish him off. but then sam was there and dream decided right then just how much he had to say.

#because he was betrayed by sam #and he says this #he thought sam was his friend #but he also felt betrayed by george and sapnap and to a lesser extent bad and ant but he didn’t seek them out to hurt them #and even though the way sam hurt him was more extreme and direct #dream isn’t really seeking to hurt sam during daedalus either until right at the end when he snaps #he just argues until he has nothing left to say and realizes he’s dealing with a lost cause #so I wonder how different things would’ve turned out if sam wasn’t confined to the box #and dream didnt spend days with him debating the ethics of torture amongst other things #allowing his more intense emotions more time to boil under the surface #what would he have done instead #if anything #what a wonderous thing proximity is #cdream #csam #dreblr #buzzzz

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lookinghalfacorpse · 2 years

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hear me out: c!dream as objectively, undeniably beautiful.

i like the idea that very few people on the server have actually seen his face. sapnap and george have, of course, and maybe a few other members of the og eight, but after things started going downhill, he was very insistent on wearing the mask around everyone and was usually dressed in thick cloaks and heavy armor. underneath all the layers, however, he is a very pretty boy. he’s well-built, with broad shoulders and strong arms. he’s powerful. lean. his face grants him a bit of androgyny; his eyelashes are full and thick, his features are delicate and thin, his eyes are bright, and his skin is sun-kissed.

and don’t get me started on his voice. smooth when he argues, charming when he laughs. it’s easy to believe him when he talks. besides that, however, most of his beauty is hidden.

maybe his mask was taken from him as he was put into the prison. perhaps it was public, or maybe it was done in a private moment between him and sam. either way, no one expected him to look like... That. some people imagined him as a monster, whatever their private definition of that word was (a freak of nature with too many eyes? a man with a lop-sided smile and yellow teeth?) but he is, in fact, just a boy. and a good-looking one, at that.

some people are surprised.

sam is among them. there’s some pride in being the one to unveil the monster, he thinks as he holds the mask in his hands, but he’s taken off-guard by what he sees. he would never, EVER say this out loud, and it certainly doesn’t help the... Everything between the two of them. sam isn’t self-aware enough to realize the exact ways which it affects them. does looking into a pair of pretty green eyes make him Less likely to strike, or more?

quackity also notices. quackity Does voice it. (he Gets it, alright? big q is also a beautiful boy and now he has this ugly scar across his face, and it’s terrible. there’s opportunity for humiliation here.) one time, after a session, he took the time to sit down and let dream know Exactly how he looked. he pulled out his most vivid, poetic words to describe his newly hollowed cheeks, the darkness under his eyes that aged him, how terrible each new scar is. he pokes at dream’s body with a blade as he speaks, using it like a pointer as he describes various flaws. dream flinches. dream might have cried.

(sam’s terrible realization is that dream is, somehow, still pretty. in a torn-apart, fallen-angel type of way. he would never, ever say it out loud.)

technoblade doesn’t see dream’s face until he walks into the cell himself (if dream hadn’t screamed his name so quickly, techno might not have known who he was). he’s a piglin, but he’s lived with humans for many many years and he likes to think he’s familiar with the culture well enough to identify an attractive one when he sees them. dream fits the description. he’s starved and unhealthy, sure, but those eyes and lashes are so unmistakably pretty. he doesn’t do anything with this new information, but he Does raise a brow in sam’s direction.

punz sees his face for the first time shortly after the breakout. having next to no equipment or armor, dream hasn’t found a replacement for the mask and he makes no comment on it. punz thinks (hopes?) that it might become regular between them; now that there’s nothing to hide, maybe dream will take the mask off more. at least during quiet moments, you know? the next time they meet, the mask is back on. and the next. and the next

dream is mostly unaware of how people react to him. does he look more of a monster now?

#i know this isn't like A Hot New Take but it's a take i wanted to get my two cents in about lmao #dreblr #cdream #csam #ctechnoblade #cpunz #cdrunz #cawesamdream #c!awesamdream #c!dream #c!sam #c!technoblade #c!techno #c!punz #i hate tags i hate tags i hate tags #drabbles #i got more to say just give me a second lmao #pretty boy

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