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pushing my agenda of c!dream’s chat as butterflies

-fully clad in netherite armor, stalking forward with long proud strides and his chin up.  dream is almost completely covered from head to toe, a mask on his face and his hood up.  trailing close behind him is a fluttering cloud of butterflies.  one has landed on his shoulder, another on his wrist.  one will fly off the blade of his axe as soon as he raises it.  he’s so used to them he doesn’t seem to notice.

-they gather when he sleeps, perching around his bed and resting on him.  flying above his face, riding on his gentle breaths.  george used to watch them, wondering how their little feet didn’t wake him.

-when they’re upset with him, they ram their delicate bodies against his mask.  the constant tink tink tink is distracting, and once or twice it actually did direct his attention away from whatever nonsense he was trying to pull.  “i know, i know,” he’ll tell them, “i can’t see when you do that, c’mon.”

-sam found one in the prison lobby once.  he’s not sure how they keep finding their way inside.  quackity will tear its wings off if he sees it.

-they land on techno’s arms, grasping the fur on his forearms.  he talks to them in a low voice, the way he talks to all the other animals.

-a hoard of butterflies on his shoulders as he limps through the forest, holding onto the thin and near-ruined prison uniform.  their wings flap in intervals, as though trying to keep him upright.  if he collapses, they ram his face until he wakes.

-quackity sees a beautiful, shimmering, blue butterfly resting against the facade of the casino.  it’s alone, which is odd– usually there’s a whole kaleidoscope of them when he’s nearby.  maybe he’s trying to be discreet.  quackity crushes it under his thumb, slowly and deliberately.  if he’s being watched, he doesn’t want to look afraid.

-a purple one lands on sam’s finger as he’s jotting down notes for a new machine.  he watches it, stretching and shifting the digit below it to watch how it moves with him.  there’s an empty cup on the desk beside him– he thinks about trapping it underneath.

-(he does, and he keeps it there for a while.  it flutters around inside the glass and its wings catch the light– it’s distractingly pretty.  he releases it outside.)

-a purple butterfly returns back to dream and lands on the tip of his nose.  jokingly, he scolds it for taking so long.  he isn’t surprised that the blue one hasn’t come back, but he knew this one might.

Headcanon that I just had to draw. Bad is on vacation and he still has his dsmp family at home. Yes, I think happy duo needs more kids:)

Crimes!