#dreblr

2.4k words, completed

That smile. You know the one.

Dream smiles at Punz - soft in a way he never is - and Punz smiles back, thinking this is the reward for his loyalty. Not realising the mourning behind such a gesture; not realising he is already too late. Was always, perhaps, too late.

Inspired by this post.

1 chapter, 14.7k words, wip / inspired by this post / written for @negativepeanuthoarder

Dream was not superstitious. He repeated that fact whenever his sword did something he could not explain.

Superstition belonged to people who did not understand how the world worked. Players invented stories when they could not see the rules beneath an event: lucky tools, cursed chunks, forests that remembered names. Dream knew better. He was an Admin. His education might have been incomplete and largely stolen from his father’s journals, but he understood that servers operated through code. Every strange occurrence had a cause, even if he lacked the training to identify it.

Nothing happened simply because a sword liked or disliked something. Swords did not have opinions. They did not behave.

They were smelted ore, shaped and sharpened. They were leather grips, hammered guards, and lines of code specifying durability, attack damage, and enchantments. Dream knew exactly how his sword had been made because he had made it himself.

And yet, Pandas, his sword, was behaving strangely.