Disc Duo Oneshots

Post-Prison Encounter Reimagined

The smell of blood was very recognizable, an iron and salty tang that would make most creatures recoil in disgust. The sickly-sweet scent that only came with infected wounds, and the stench of sweat and rotting things was unmistakable, awful, and sickening to the stomach. When one was surrounded by it all day, however, they got used to it.

In the forest, near a place known as Logstedchire, trembling slightly and not able to sleep, Dream was worried about someone coming to investigate or see what was wounded in the middle of nowhere. A good amount of people on the server would either put the creature out of its misery or try to heal it.

Those exact scents wafted off of him, but he was used to it, unfortunately. If he wasn't, maybe he would have actually gotten the energy to wash himself.

His mask was gone, destroyed during the escape, unlike the jumpsuit he wore. The now unmasked man felt uncomfortable; exposed, even. He would deal, though. He wasn't a child, for prime's sake.

Dream's hand curled into the dirt and leaves. He was curled up against the trunk of a tree, a large one at that, huge branches blotting out the sky and stars; the man was hiding between the roots and trying to catch at least an hour of sleep, something he had been struggling to get for the past week. He'd suffered from severe hallucinations, that burned deeply into his mind. It was best to keep his eyes closed, he learned that quickly; if he did, he would see those things his brain made up less. It would help him remain focused when he did fight, not to mention the fact that sleep claimed those who had closed eyes easier that those with open ones.

The man let out a small sigh and shifted slightly, before the million what ifs flashed through his head and he froze in place, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. It was hard to stay quiet when one was tense and scared, but Dream was skilled. Speak of the devil. Familiar footsteps and stressed breathing filled the air, along with frustrated pacing, the kind that came when was anxious and waiting for something bad to happen.

Dream's breath caught in his throat; he held it. Too weak to fight even this child when he was completely alone, too weak to chase after him, even. Dream was pathetic now; his past self would have laughed at him for ending up like this.

He, quiet as a cat, moved his legs to his chest and hugged them tightly, feeling the obvious pounding in his heart. This was the last person who Dream wanted to find him, though, in all honesty, he would have preferred to remain hidden.

"What the absolute fuck is that smell?" demanded the familiar, young voice that Dream knew so well. The voice of the person who would have loved to kill him. The man crouched behind the tree began to chew his lip, anxiety enfolding him as blood trickled down his chin. He was going to get caught he was going to get caught HE WAS GOING TO GET CAUGHT HE WAS GOING TO GET CAUGHT –

Breathe, he told himself, and took a deep but silent breath. Panicking would only make things worse; he needed to have a plan to keep himself alive because –

"What the fuck?!"

Shit. Well, there was no possibility in hiding now.

"H-hello, Tommy," there was a small stammer in his voice. Luckily for him, the child standing over him didn't notice.

"D-dream," Tommy choked out, blue eyes wide with horror. He had taken a few steps back and was trembling head-to-toe, and under any other circumstance, Dream would have found that funny. It was still kind of funny, except Tommy was carrying an axe, so it wasn't. "W-what do – what do y-you w-want? What do you want?!"

The statement sounded much bolder when Tommy repeated it, but Dream knew that the kid was extremely scared right now, despite the fact that his fear had blood dripping down his chin because he'd been chewing it and scars that represented months of torture.

"I – I don't –"

Tommy inhaled sharply. "I don't fucking care!" he screamed. "You're gonna try and manipulate me again, aren't you, you green son of a bitch!"

"Leave me be, Tommy! You're the son of a bitch, here!" Dream's voice was shaky and but furious, his eyes gleaming with fire despite his awful physical condition.

The child's eyes widened, pain and rage increasing tenfold. "ME?" he demanded in a shrill, choked voice. "After EVERYTHING, you have the AUDACITY to call ME the son of a bitch?!" he had never felt this sort of anger before, especially in front of Dream. "After Exile, and in the prison, and RANBOO, who you LET DIE b ecause you're such a bastard! After fuckin' threatening Tubbo's life in your stupid little display vault thingy!? I nearly fucking killed myself in Exile, you bitch!"

"You needed to be disciplined!" Dream shouted back, green eyes flashing with anger. "You weren't listening to me in Exile! And in the prison, you said the book wasn't real! I needed to prove it, or you would have had them kill me! I WAS BEING TORTURED, FOR XD'S SAKE AND I DON'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW RANBOO, SO WHY WOULD I SACRIFICE MYSELF TO SAVE HIM?! I will NEVER go back there, Tommy, I swear to prime!

"And I think we both know I wasn't actually gonna kill Tubbo!"

Tommy had never felt so distraught in his life. This bastard said he was going kill Tubbo, then claimed he was bluffing a whole year later? Even if it was true, that meant that Dream felt Tubbo's life wasn't even worth that much. He wanted to hurt Dream the way he hurt him and could only think of one way. Except he wasn't thinking. All he was doing was tightening his grip on Techno's axe (he still thought of it as Techno's) and bracing himself to end it.

The child's mind whirled. He was terrified but rage-filled and armed with something that could kill. Though the armor Dream wore was netherite and he had diamond armor, he also had the Axe of Peace. The axe was raised above his head. He didn't remember doing it, but Tommy knew what he had to do.

The seventeen-year-old swung the axe down onto the former inmate without thinking. "Tommy! Stop –" Dream's plea was cut short from the Axe of Peace sinking into his skull.

Blood splattered over Tommy's armor, the tree, the grass. Dream was covered in it. He lay lifeless on the ground; the blow having cut through his skull and slashed open his brain. The green eyes that had been staring up at him in fear, tears leaking from them, were glassy and unfocused.

What the fuck did I just do!? Tommy thought, panicking. He had never been a killer, yet he'd just removed Dream's final life without hesitation. The child shuttered, knowing that he would never be able to talk about this.

"I'm fuckin' sorry," he whispered to the corpse that couldn't hear his voice. "I...I'm so fuckin' sorry, Dream, but this needed to happen." He had no idea why he was apologizing, why he even felt bad in the first place, but deep in his heart, Tommy had always been an extremely empathetic person. He couldn't kill cows – the sheer amount of times they had looked at him and he decided to adopt them because they were cute was too great to count.

He had just killed a human being. A person, one with feelings. Even if said person had abused him...he fucking regretted it.

A few days later, Tommy was met face-to-face with Dream's ghost. A broken soul that was short-tempered and angry at the world. Yet...the ghost had thanked him.

"Thank you for putting me out of my misery," it had said.

A/N: Like I said in the summary, requests are welcome, but keep it SFW. Oh, and this is the first oneshot I've ever done, so on a scale of 1 to 10, how did I do? I'm genuinely curious. If there are any ways to improve my writing, I'd love to hear them.

Have a nice day!

- Burnt Chicken Nugget (@StyxTheSeaWing)

P.S. Cat be sitting, am I right? Every request is another pet for Gus (the cat).