#cdrunz

[soda-24]

I MADE SOME BULLSHIIIII

happy late womens day lady's

[deimosisreallycool]

hi all have some drunz before i dip off tumblr for another month

[dreams-tiny-mask]

they haunt my fucking dreams

[timetravelkoolaid]

the restart effect

chapter 1 of 3, 3.6k words. part of the archangel effect.

The Pull was what Purpled had taken to calling that nagging tug in Punz's chest. Punz didn't know where it lead, just that it was always the same general direction, growing weaker when he got farther away and stronger when he got closer to the point of origin. Whatever it was, it made Punz ache, every inch of his being, like something important, integral to who he was as a person, was missing and trying to call him back. Punz has always been on the road, searching for something he couldn't name, his little brother Purpled right behind him. "The Pull" ends up leading them to a stranger with golden hair and brown wings, and a newly established settlement called Essempie. The "restart effect" is a phenomenon observed in cooperative games, specifically public goods games, where cooperation temporarily increases when a game is abruptly stopped and then restarted, even after cooperation initially declined.

[polinamory]

Inktober Day 13

DRINK

[krebble]

so I don’t think he’s looking at ur face buddy

[ribbon-heartwise]

Hmo, but c!Dream as a peacock hybrid.

Him feeling like Punz isn't paying enough attention to him, so he spreads the tail feathers and Punz tries not to laugh as Dream presents the pretty patterns. Peacocks use their tail feathers to attract mates.

Him getting pissed off, and suddenly his tail feathers spread out in a massive wall behind him while Tommy stares in confusion. Peacocks use their tail feathers to intimidate.

Him viciously attacking random snakes on the ground while Punz cackles in the background. Peacocks hate snakes.

Him making little nests and just chilling in them. Peacocks make ground nests.

Him screeching and struggling while Punz tries to force him to learn how to swim. Peacocks are physically incapable of swimming.

[s1eepykur0]

All Mine (All Yours) a c!Drunz fic snippet

Enchanting is a process that always required a steady and delicate hand to carve the runes into the armor or weapon to prevent the enchantments from breaking or weakening over time. It’s a skill every person had to learn if they wanted to enter the arena and survive. To travel great distances and live to tell the tale. To enter the depths of the deepest caves and find the treasure they seek. To go to different realms and reveal the secrets the universe keeps hidden away. It’s a skill he had grown to master if he wanted to survive, and make the world remember his name.

The obsidian arrowhead scratches against the blade of the netherite sword as he carves the runes with great attention. The sound it makes scratches the inside of his ears in a familiar way that he has grown accustomed to after many years, pulling the arrowhead away to look at his handiwork so far. He leans back in his chair from where he was hunched over and blinks a few times to let his eyes adjust after staring at the sword for some time in the lantern’s light. Jagged lines decorate the netherite sword while a faint hum of magic pulses as the enchantments wait to be completed. Calloused, pale fingers delicately ghost over the runes to feel the lines, gripping the arrow in his other hand tightly knowing he could have done better. 

Better where the lines would seem as though they were engraved into the sword naturally than by a human hand, but the runes he carved weren’t smooth as he used to have done it. Sighing disappointedly, he leans forward to hunch over the table again and forces his hand to steady as he brings the obsidian arrowhead down onto the sword once more. It’s been a problem lately that he’s noticed, his hands shaking involuntary over the slightest of things whether it be holding a cup or sharpening a blade. Even after escaping the prison, away from the obsidian walls, away from the lava’s heat, from the foul stench of iron and mold, and the impending silence, his hands still shake. 

The delicacy and steadiness his hands used to wield feel lost as he carves into the blade, feeling his hand shake as he grips the arrow a little tighter. The control he used to have is gone and can feel it continuing to leave his grasp little by little. He can feel the stick cracking underneath the pressure of his hand, his grip tightening with every passing second because his fucking hand won't stop shaking. Why won't it stop shaking? He's not there anymore. He's not there. He is not there. He's not afra-

Snap

“Fuck.”

Tossing the snapped arrow to the side, Dream curses and bangs his fists onto the table causing the sword and the cluttered materials to shake from the force. He grabs the hilt of the sword, feeling his frustration grow as he notices how heavy it feels in his hand than how it used to feel before. Everything has changed since before. He can’t wear netherite armor without feeling exhausted after a couple of hours. He can barely lift a bundle of logs for firewood. His stomach can barely handle a stew without throwing up. Any sudden movement would make him flinch like a rabbit caught in a trap. It’s not fair. He wasn’t supposed to be weak. He was supposed to be the one in control. 

Abruptly, he stands up from his chair causing it to scrape against the wooden floor and throws the sword at the wall with all the energy he had left before falling back onto his chair. It bangs against the blackstone brick wall before falling onto the floor, a hard thud echoing through the room before the deafening silence returns. He waits, his heartbeat roaring in his ears as he listens for the crackle of the speaker, for the grated voice to come through the small device and tell him to stop throwing things at the wall before it gets taken away again. Yet, no voice follows, just the silence as his anger dissipates, his clenched fists relaxing as his shoulders sag and his arms go limp by his sides. 

“That was supposed to be our spare sword, ya know.”

His fingers twitch at the sudden voice, but he keeps his face neutral as he looks over his shoulder to see Punz leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. A smirk crosses his face, but it’s soft as the blond pushes off the door to make his way into the room. He sets a bundle down on the table after moving some stuff around, opening it to reveal some loaves of bread, berries, and potatoes. A calloused hand takes some of the berries from the bundle and slowly offers it to him as they’re dropped onto the table within reach for him to grab.

“Hungry?”

“No.”

It’s both a truth and a lie. Yes, he’s not hungry, but he knows he should be. He barely ate anything in the morning, and didn’t eat anything else the rest of the day. Dream didn’t miss the flicker of concern in those sky, blue eyes before they shifted back to a masked nonchalance. 

“Okay. More for me then.”

He doesn’t take the berries back though, leaving them there to grab more berries from inside the bundle to pop them in his mouth while taking everything else out to put them away. Staring at the small cluster of berries, nimble fingers snatch a couple before popping them into his mouth, grimacing at the sudden sweetness that invaded his mouth yet soothed the dryness from the lack of drinking anything since this morning. Shuffling of foots and thumping of cabinets or barrels opening and closing fill the silence with the occasional humming that he lets himself fall back onto as he picks at the berries before eating one.

Nothing is said when Punz picks up the pieces of the obsidian arrow he broke in half from the floor, simply breaking the tip off before tossing the stick into the furnace to use as fuel. Nor does he say anything as he picks up the sword and inspects it, gliding his fingers gently over the blade and half written runes before leaning it against the wall carefully. He looks away from the sword to return his focus back on the few berries left on the table, lifting one up to inspect himself when his eyes slowly shift towards his hand where he can still vaguely see the tremor in his fingers. No matter what he was doing, it was always there.