wrote for like three minutes, but writers block is killing me with rocks. convince me to finish this fwt AU
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Being dead, once he got over the whole “being dead” part, wasn’t that bad. Really, the worst part was the guy possessing his corpse. Dream stood, or rather floated, on the edge of the giant smoking ruin that was at one point a city. A pain-in-the-ass city, for sure, full of deviancy and theft and annoying British guys. It was a city with a certain fox-eared man with a certain golden ring on his finger currently running for his life from the horde of withers set upon him by the Blood God. Weren’t those two related? Step-uncle or something? Prime, don’t ask Dream about that fucked-up family tree, he’d already had trouble making head-and-tails with just the human-male-fucking-fish-and-birthing-a-fox-hybrid thing. Holidays must be so awkward. Not like Dream could judge, but c’mon.
Right, back to the destruction. Screams and wither shrieks and blasts filled the air. If he were still alive, Dream would no doubt, even with his mask, be hacking from the smog of burnt gunpowder and upturnt earth plumed up and only growing larger with every explosion. It’s beyond frustrating having to sit around like a lame duck as his kind-of husband panicked and choked and screamed his voice hoarse looking for his even-lamer-duck allies.
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(ps, if you read this far, you might be interested so basically this is a half-baked AU everyone has seen before where dream is actually Not Evil™ for Possession Reasons™ but with a fundywastaken flair because they are so precious to me for reasons unknown and are so so so underrated for reasons even more unknown)
(pps i havent watched canon in actual years and so pretty everything i write is based on failing memory and vibes and pure self-indulgence)