Dream is the god of false luck. Of shifting change. Of shoving everything in your pockets so you have a way out hours later. Of jumping from cliffs with half of a plan. Of Deus Ex Machinas made days earlier one the few seconds you had to breathe in the middle of a chase.
Of making it all look magic, like you can twist reality while hiding your bloody knuckles behind your back
No matter what happens the dsmp still prays to him.
In lmanburg Wilbur would leave a small offering to Dream before going to fight them same man. Karl would mutter a small prayer before making a particularly stupid prank to get the attention of a married man. Tommy screamed a plea as he stumbled and fell from the obsidian grid, managing to snatch a water bucket from his inventory just in time.
All but two of them keep their bonds to the god they lock away under obsidian and lava.
Sam breaks his the day he becomes the Warden, locking the rosary he has carried for years in a box in his base and never touching again
(The way his body becomes stiff and cold does not bother him. It doesn't. His duty comes first, even if he doesn't know what to do now that his body doesn't seem to move like it used to)
Quackity breaks his the day before his first visit to the prison, easily throwing his rosary into the flames of the fireplace in the office of his new empire
(His wings ache where they're bound to his back, his skin tingles, so cold and hard compared to the fluid metarmothis he got used to for years. He imagines being able to absorb the divinity that pours out of Dream through his skin, holds back the urge to eat his heart)
Quackity wanted endless luck. He wanted everything to always go exactly as planned, for all the pieces to fall into place
But the only luck that is certain is a gun with six bullets pressed against your temple.
