MCYT Oneshots And Other Random Stuff

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Dream was alone.

So, so, so alone.

He missed George. He missed Sapnap. He wanted to see them. He wanted to smile at them and laugh with them— hell, he'd take them laughing at him. He just fucking wanted to see them fucking laugh again.

Dream could tell himself he had no more attachments, that he didn't care about Sapnap or George, that they were just pawns on a chessboard to him— but he was too scared that if he kept lying to himself, he might start believing it.

It was true that Dream had no more friends, but the attachment was still there. In his desperation to cut all the strings that bound him, he'd done nothing but push his puppeteers further away, tangling the wires beyond repair.

He didn't really blame Tommy. He couldn't. If Tommy had held a sword to George or Sapnap's throat, Dream would have thrown the discs at his feet and begged him to let them go. Gods be fucking damned, he would have done it without hesitation.

And then, afterwards, if he'd gotten the chance to kill Tommy twice for it... he would have.

Weak, he silently hissed to himself. Attachments would ruin everything. Attachments made Dream vulnerable. Attachments put the people he cared about in danger.

But he couldn't get fucking rid of them, no matter how hard he tried.

Sapnap had visited him here, in the prison, once. And he'd told Dream that if Dream managed to escape, Sapnap would kill him himself.

The thought was almost enough to undo him, to send Dream into tears. What would it feel like to have his friend's blade at his throat? Would escape even be worth it, if that was the cost?

He wanted out of this place. He truly did. He was a prisoner here.

But even he could admit he was hiding here, too. He was hiding from everything he'd done, and someday soon he knew his past would catch up with him.

When Dream had first been thrown in this cursed place, he had thought it wouldn't last a month. This was his prison. His territory. He would escape. Someone would help him do it, maybe. And when he got out, he would get his revenge. Get his leverage back. Get control back.

Then month after month had gone by, with nothing to break up the monotony of the days but the Warden's cold glares and the occasional, awkward visits from old acquaintances— most of them hurling accusations and fury Dream's way.

Even then, Dream had bided his time. He knew he could survive it. He would get out one day. Or at least, that was what he repeated to himself over and over until he found himself starting to believe it.

Then Quackity had begun arriving, day after day, with his axes and knives and shears, demanding Dream share the knowledge of the revival book with him. Cutting Dream up when he refused to share it. Making his miserable life so much more miserable.

Dream used to want vengeance.

Now he just wanted to go home.

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this takes place before Techno shows up in prison with dream