56. adoption arc, pt. 5 

"You're what?"

"Baking with Dream," Purpled replied. "I'll be free at four."

"I cannot believe this," Tommy hissed. "You're gonna abandon me for Dream?"

"You're welcome to join us," Purpled offered dryly. "Ranboo does sometimes."

"The boob boy is involved too?!" Tommy shrieked.

Purpled, who was now very used to his dramatics, simply turned away and waved a hand. "Anyways, I'll meet you at the UFO in two hours. Might be a bit late."

"I will remember this betrayal!" Tommy shouted at his retreating back.

~~~

"What exactly do you have against Dream?"

"He's a bitch."

"You literally run away every time he comes within ten feet of you," Tubbo deadpanned. He set his watering can down. "I think it's a bit more than that."

"I'm not scared of him," Tommy snapped. Tubbo side-eyed him. "I'm not!"

"If you say so, Tommy."

There was a long moment of silence. Tubbo silently counted down the seconds until Tommy cracked.

"Okay," Tommy grumbled just as Tubbo hit zero. "He's-- he's trying to adopt us."

"Yeah, you told me."

"I don't want to be adopted."

"Why not?" At Tommy's incredulous look, Tubbo shrugged. "It's not like a serious thing, right?"

"But it's Dream."

"You say that like it means something."

"It does."

"Then explain it to me."

Tommy made a frustrated noise. They'd already had this exact conversation three times before, and his answer was the same every time. "It's complicated!"

"Uh-huh," Tubbo said dubiously, hefting his watering can and moving over to another patch of flowers in the garden. "Y'know, you can't avoid him forever."

Tommy bared his teeth. "Watch me."

~~~

"Ranboob, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Ranboo," Ranboo corrected. "I'm waiting for someone."

Tommy blinked. "What? Why?"

"He's teaching me self-defense."

"I thought you hated fighting."

"I do," Ranboo assured. "But I gotta defend myself too. I'll have to move to a different server eventually, and the people there might not be as nice to hybrids."

Tommy grimaced. "Point. Who's teaching you? Technoblade?"

Ranboo blinked. "Who?"

"Technoblade," Tommy repeated, then paused. "Oh wait, bitch hasn't joined the server yet. Sam then?"

". . . No," Ranboo said slowly. "Dream."

Tommy stared at him. "Dream?"

"Yeah. Dream." Ranboo shuffled his feet, gaze drifting slightly to the side. "Look, I know you don't like him--"

"No, Ranboo, you don't understand," Tommy hissed. "He has motives. He's gonna win your trust and then he's gonna adopt you. He's a fuckin' bastard--"

"I know."

Tommy stopped, taken aback. "You know?"

"I know," Ranboo deadpanned. "Tubbo told me about your rants."

"I will be having words with him," Tommy muttered, then turned to Ranboo. "Stay away from 'im, you hear?"

Ranboo nodded, the same way an indulgent adult would nod at a small child spouting nonsense. "Okay, Tommy."

"I'm being serious!"

"He's really not that bad," Ranboo countered. "If you spend some time with him--"

"I absolutely refuse-- "

"Tommy!"

Tommy shrieked as a hand landed heavily on his head, ruffling his hair. He whipped around and batted the offending appendage away, then kicked Dream in the shin for good measure. Dream simply sidestepped, letting his foot hit empty air. "Hello to you too, child. Are you here to join us?"

"I will murderize you," Tommy promised darkly. "I will kill you until you're dead, and then I'll burn your body and dance on the ashes."

"Okay," Dream chirped, completely unbothered. He ruffled Tommy's hair again. "Have fun."

Tommy let out an enraged scream and lunged for his throat.

57. toddler tales, pt. 3 

"Why couldn't we have done this in my office?"

"Because," Quackity drawled, his hands folded behind his head. "Taxes are boring, and if we talked about them at your office I'd fall asleep."

"So you dragged me out here," Tubbo deadpanned. Quackity shrugged.

"It's a nice day. When was the last time you saw the sun?"

"This morning."

"Let me rephrase that. When was the last time you saw the sun without a window in the way?"

Tubbo's silence was telling. Quackity nodded sagely. "Exactly. I get that you're the president and you got shit to do, but you gotta take care of yourself too. Running yourself into the ground isn't gonna help anyone."

Tubbo sighed. "Quackity--"

There was a snap of a twig breaking. Quackity whipped his head in the direction of the sound, drawing his axe. Behind him, Tubbo pulled a sword from his inventory.

"Who's there?" The vice president of L'Manberg demanded.

A pause. The two watched warily as the underbrush shivered, the sound of two people whispering not-so-quietly reaching their ears. And then a child tumbled out of the bushes and onto the path, bringing up his tiny fists like he was about to throw a punch. A second child shuffled out after him, giving them a wide berth.

"Wha--" Quackity spluttered, lowering his axe. "Kids?"

"Are you gonna kidnap us too?" the first child demanded.

Tubbo stared at him. His shock of blonde hair, his blue eyes, his voice. . .

"Tommy?" he blurted. The child gaped at him.

"Tubbo?" he asked. "Oh my fucking Prime, you're ma-- mash-- massi--"

"Big," the child hiding behind Tommy piped in.

"--big," Tommy finished, nodding his head. Then he paused. "Wait, so the kidnapper wasn't lying?"

"Mister Minecraft said he trus- trusted him, right?" the mystery child pointed out. "So he's not a liar."

Tommy whipped back around. "Why are you big?" he demanded.

"Why are you small?" Tubbo asked. Tommy puffed up indignantly.

"I am not small," he hissed, eyes narrowing to slits. "I am the big man. The biggest man."

"Uh," Quackity said intelligently. "Wait. That's, uh, that's Tommy?"

"Who the fuck are you?" The toddler snapped.

"I'm-- you don't remember me?"

"I said, who the fuck are you?"

"Big Q," Tubbo muttered to his vice president. "He might-- he might not remember anything. Because. Because he's a kid now."

". . . I'm Quackity," Quackity said, crouching down. His axe disappeared into his inventory. "And who are you?"

"I'm Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit," one toddler declared. "The biggest man in the world."

There was an awkward pause as they waited for the second toddler to introduce himself. When it dragged on for a moment too long, Tommy added, "And this is--"

The second toddler hastily clapped a hand over his mouth. "Ma told me not to tell my name to strangers," he said quickly. Then he squealed and pulled his hand away, rubbing it frantically on the sleeve of Tommy's shirt. "You licked me!"

Tommy stuck out his tongue. "This is Dream," he announced. "Tubbo's not a stranger. We can trust 'im!"

"But he's big now," Dream protested.

"Doesn't matter how big he is, he'll always be my friend!"

Quackity had gone still. "Dream?"

Dream paused. "Did. . ." he started slowly. "Did you know big-me?"

Quackity's face twitched into something close to a grim smile. "You could say that." His hand drifted downwards, the faint edges of an axe hilt coalescing between his fingers as he began to pull it from his inventory. Tubbo caught his wrist.

"Quackity," he said warily. "Don't."

Quackity's smile became noticeably more strained. "Wait here," he told the children. "I just. . . gotta talk to Tubbo for a second."

He led the president down the path, far enough that they were out of hearing range but still within view. "Tubbo," he started. "Tubbo, Dream--"

"We're not killing him."

Quackity blinked, taken aback. "I-- what?"

"We're not killing him," Tubbo repeated, squaring his shoulders and looking him in the eyes.

"But-- but he's vulnerable right now!" Quackity protested. "He's a literal kid, he can't defend himself--"

"Which is exactly why we're not killing him."

Quackity took a deep breath. "Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo. Dream is a bastard. Doesn't matter what age he is, he's still a war criminal. He needs to pay."

Tubbo stood his ground. "He doesn't remember what he did."

"And there's a chance he will later!" Quackity gestured in the direction of the toddlers. "You think he's gonna stay like this forever? We got a chance, Tubbo, and we have to fucking take it!"

"Dream's a child, Quackity!" Tubbo shouted back. "We're not executing a three-year-old for shit he doesn't even remember doing!"

"Whas' essacuting?"

Both men whirled around to see the two toddlers, now standing only a few feet away. Dream was half-hiding behind Tommy, eyes round and face pale. Tommy himself was glaring up at Quackity, arms crossed over his chest.

". . . Didn't I tell you to wait over there?" Quackity asked.

Tommy scoffed. "Like I'm gonna listen to you. What's essacuting?"

"Executing," Dream corrected quietly. "We did it back home. It means making someone sleep f-forever."

Tommy frowned. "Like. . . Mister Minecraft does to the zombies? With his sword?"

Dream nodded. Tommy turned to the older two. "You're. . . you're gonna hurt Dream?"

"Tommy," Quackity said, "Dream-- Big-Dream, he isn't a good person. You gotta get that."

"No," Tommy snapped. He pointed a chubby finger at Quackity. "Dream is my friend. I don't care what the fuck big-Dream did. Hurt 'im and I'll hurt you."

"You don't understand," Quackity insisted. He drew his axe and stepped towards the two children. Tommy took a step back - right into Dream, who had frozen in place.

"I don't wanna die," the child whispered, green eyes wide with terror.

Quackity faltered. Tommy took that moment to grab Dream and bolt , short legs sprinting down the path. Tubbo half-turned in pursuit, only to stop, watching them go with a conflicted expression. By the time Quackity had recovered enough to start after them, they were already out of sight, hidden by the undergrowth surrounding the path.

"Quackity," Tubbo called after his vice president. "Quackity, stop."

Quackity skidded to a stop, glaring in the direction the children had disappeared in. "We have a chance , Tubbo," he snapped. "L'Manberg can finally be free."

"At the cost of a child's life."

"He's not a child!"

Tubbo crossed his arms. "Quackity. As your president, I'm ordering you. Stop."

"And as your vice president, I'm telling you that it's for the greater good," Quackity grumbled, but he lowered his axe and let it dematerialize into his inventory.

"Do you want to trauma-- traumatize Tommy?" Tubbo demanded. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. He could have a crisis about this later. "He's a toddler , Quackity."

"He'll thank us when he turns back."

"That's the thing, Quackity. We don't know if he will."

". . . There's gotta be some way, Tubbo--"

"And we don't know if Dream will turn back either," Tubbo interrupted. "Yeah, he might, but what if he doesn't? You'll risk killing an innocent kid?"

"It's for the greater good," Quackity repeated. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. Tubbo shook his head.

"You could kill Dream," he said quietly. His scars ached. "But then we'd be no better than Schlatt."

Quackity remained silent.

"Think about it, big Q," Tubbo murmured, then turned on his heel and walked away.

He wasn't exactly on the best terms with Philza, but Dream had mentioned a 'Mister Minecraft'. Hopefully, he had some idea of what had happened to Tommy - and more importantly, how to fix it.

58. (credit to TheWritingNightOwl)

"How the fuck did I get here?"

"Shush," Tommy ordered, studying the giant chessboard with narrowed eyes. Wilbur grumbled something unfavorable and fell silent.

"You know," Technoblade drawled. "I could just knock out Philza. He's standing right there."

"How about you don't knock out Philza," Philza suggested, eyeing him warily. Tommy snapped his fingers.

"Great idea. D4 Knight to B3."

"Noooo," Philza protested as Technoblade stepped across the grid in an L-shaped path. "Technoblade, Techno, we can talk about this--"

"I'm sorry, Phil," Technoblade said grimly. He hefted Philza over his shoulder, marched to the edge of the board, and dumped him on the ground. Philza pouted, but when Technoblade raised an eyebrow at him, it morphed into a grin.

"Good luck out there," he said. Technoblade offered him a noncommittal nod and returned to his place on the board.

"My turn," Dream declared. "Rook to D5."

Schlatt blinked blearily down at the bottle in his hand and did not move. Dream sighed. "Sapnap?"

Sapnap obligingly moved two squares over, grabbed Schlatt by the shoulders and steered him onto square D5 before he returned to his original spot. Tommy blinked. D5 was directly in Tubbo's path, and even as he scanned the board, Tommy could see that no other pieces were in a position to take D5 if Tommy took out Schlatt. It wasn't a trap - it was a useless sacrifice, plain and simple.

"Uh, Dream."

"I know," the other man deadpanned. "I did that on purpose."

A pause. Tommy glanced at Tubbo, who was staring at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Okay, what the hell. Queen to D5. Go wild."

Tubbo whooped, crossing the distance between him and Schlatt. He stopped in front of the man, frowning contemplatively, then shrugged and punched him in the face. Schlatt went down like a bowling pin.

"I wanted to do that," Wilbur muttered petulantly. Technoblade snorted, taking a step back as Tubbo dragged Schlatt's prone form past him.

"Nice right hook," he said. Tubbo beamed.

"Thanks, I've been practicing!"

". . . H5 Bishop to F3," Dream called. Niki surveyed the board, gaze landing on Wilbur, who stood right in her path.

". . . No," Wilbur said.

"Sorry, Wil," Nikki chirped. She slid onto the square. "But there's only room for one of us here."

"Join us," Karl (one of Tommy's bishops) called from the sidelines, where he, Philza (one of Dream's bishops), and Callahan (Dream's second rook, with Schlatt being the first) were locked in an intense game of Monopoly beside Schlatt's unconscious body. "We have Monopoly."

"Capitalism," Wilbur grumbled, but he moved off the board to join them.

"C4 Pawn to C5," Tommy declared. "Tubbo, could you--?"

"On it, big man." Tubbo hopped back a square, nudging the dirt block that represented a pawn forward before returning to his spot. "Done!"

Dream hesitated, surveying the board. ". . . Queen to B3."

Technoblade glanced down at square B3, which he was standing on, then up at Dream. "Really?" he deadpanned.

Dream shrugged. "You took out Philza. He must be avenged."

"Can't avenge him if your Queen is asleep."

Dream glanced down at George, who was dozing peacefully in his square. ". . . You have a point. Scratch that, F6 bishop to G4."

Jack Manifold strode onto G4 and unceremoniously kicked the dirt block occupying it off the board. It flew straight into Wilbur, who went down in a flurry of Monopoly money and cursing. "Sorry," Jack called, not sounding very sorry at all. He turned to Niki. "Hello."

"Hello," Niki replied with a smile.

"And goodbye," Fundy declared, stepping onto Niki's square. At Niki's betrayed look, he shrugged. "Sorry, Niki. Orders are orders."

Niki sighed mournfully but retreated, joining the little circle of people sitting around the monopoly board. Dream pressed his lips together.

"Knight to C7."

Sapnap glanced at Punz. "Which one?"

"Uh- Punz, sorry. Should've clarified that."

"Can I go to F4?" Fundy called. "I want to go to F4."

"Why?" Tommy shouted back.

Fundy gestured at the pawn on F4, then mimed kicking something in Wilbur's direction. Tommy grinned.

"F3 rook to F4."

Fundy whooped, hopping onto the square. He eyed the dirt block for a moment, taking a step back and lining up his shot. Then he drew back his foot and kicked it. The block sailed through the air in a perfect arc, landing right on Wilbur's head.

"Score!" Fundy cheered as Wilbur faceplanted on the monopoly board.

59.

Dream thrived off of physical contact; it was a well-known fact among the inhabitants of the server. He enjoyed tussling with his friends, engaging in mock fights or throwing an arm around their shoulders while they talked. He was constantly in motion, running this way and that, taking glee in sparring and engaging in the occasional race. Sam had grown used to his animated gesturing and inexhaustible supply of energy, to being greeted with an enthusiastic wave and a cheerful shout of his name.

But one morning Dream woke up, and he was different. His eyes were suddenly ages older than they had been the day before. He adopted a shuffling walk and constantly hunched in on himself. He'd space out a lot too, gazing into the distance with an unreadable expression. Occasionally he'd look down at his hands and stare like he'd never seen them before.

The worst part, though, was the wariness. He no longer drew his friends into side hugs, and avoided as much physical contact as he could. He'd stiffen up every time someone came near him. On particularly bad days, he couldn't even look them in the eye. His mask was almost constantly over his face now, and he'd go still whenever one of them drew a weapon, watching them like he was about to be attacked.

He was wary of the others, but he was terrified of Sam. Sam didn't know why, but every time they spoke, he could hear the slight tremor in Dream's voice. The man tried to put up a front, to act relaxed around him, but he couldn't hide his shaking hands or the way he flinched every time Sam made a sudden movement.

(Sam kicked the last spider corpse away, grimacing at the grime covering his sword. When he'd gone mining, he hadn't expected to run into a nest of cave spiders. Thankfully, Dream had been with him. Between the two of them, they'd managed to defeat the spiders with nothing worse than a few bruises. The creeper hybrid turned to Dream, who was staring down at a spider corpse with empty fascination. His hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword.

Sam recognized that blank look. "Dream."

Dream didn't react. Sam stepped closer. "Dream, can you hear me?"

Silence. Sam cautiously reached out.

Dream jerked, head snapping towards him. Sam reared backwards, surprised at the sudden motion. Dream's eyes tracked his movement, landing on his raised hand. He stiffened up, joints locking, and when Sam hastily lowered his hand, he cried out and physically threw himself away.

"I'm sorry!" he shrieked, curling into the wall of the cave as if he was trying to disappear into it. "I'm sorry! Please, please, no--"

"It's me," Sam pleaded, kneeling down and setting his hands flat against the ground. "It's me, Dream. Sam. Your- your friend. We're in a cave right now. We were mining. Can you hear me? Dream, can you hear me?"

"No," Dream whispered. It was obvious that he wasn't seeing Sam at the moment. "Please, I just-- I want to go outside-- please, I haven't seen the sun in years--"

"You're not there, Dream. You're safe. The others are waiting for us back at the Community House. George, Callahan, Alyssa. Remember them? You're safe, Dream. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Please just let me out," Dream begged. "Please."

"You're out, Dream. You're free."

"Please. Just-- just five minutes, please--"

"You're free, Dream. You're safe. We're in a cave. We were mining. The others are waiting for us at the Community House."

"No, no, no, no--")

After that incident, Sam was very careful to always keep his hands below shoulder level around Dream.

It wasn't just Sam, either. Whenever Sapnap spoke, Dream would jerk like he was about to take off running. He was jittery and anxious, constantly fidgeting around the other man and refusing to relax until he moved away.

("He thinks I'm gonna kill him," Sapnap muttered into the mug in his hands. "I don't know why. But every time I get near him he just-- freezes. Like he's-- like I'm gonna pull out a fucking axe and take his head off."

Sam took a sip of his hot chocolate and said nothing. Sapnap laughed bitterly.

"And it's just me," he said. "I've seen him sparring with George, and he's fine. But the moment I get near him, the way he looks at me--")

Dream tried to hide the change. By Prime, he tried to hide the change, forcing himself to spend time with his friends when he was clearly uncomfortable. At first, the group did their best to be supportive, giving him space and time in the hopes that he would begin feeling comfortable around them. But he only grew worse, becoming twitchier by the day. Things eventually reached a head and the group unanimously decided that an intervention was needed.

("Okay," Alyssa said, hands folded on the table in front of her. "Obviously, Dream isn't going to take care of himself."

A round of quiet assents. Alyssa waited until they died down before continuing.

"That being said, we can't just gang up on him and tell him to stop spending time with us. Do we all understand that?"

Another round of assents. Alyssa nodded. "So. How are we going to do this?"

"Maybe only with one or two people," Sam said. He bit his lip. "Not. . . not me or Sapnap." He sent the other an apologetic look, but Sapnap just nodded. He understood.

Callahan signed rapidly to Alyssa. "He says it's a good idea," she translated. "If there are too many people, he might feel threatened or trapped."

There was a moment of solemn silence. Ponk cleared his throat. "Does. . . does anyone know what happened?"

A low round of negatives. "And we're not going to try to find out," BadBoyHalo added. "He'll tell us when. . . if he's comfortable."

"I. . . I think George should do it."

George's gaze snapped to Sapnap. He pointed at himself. "Wha-- me? Why me?"

"He seems to be the most comfortable around you, Callahan and Alyssa."

"Then why not Callahan or Alyssa?"

Callahan and Alyssa exchanged looks. "He's kind of. . . distant around us," Alyssa explained. "Standoffish. You're the one he's most open to."

George blinked. "I am?"

"You are," Sam confirmed dryly. George took a deep breath, pushing his goggles up to rub his eyes.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, I'll do it.")

The intervention had gone. . . surprisingly well. Dream requested space, and his friends gladly gave it to him.

("--just saying," Sapnap insisted. "It would look a whole lot better--"

"We're not putting TNT in the community house," Sam said firmly. "Even if it's 'just for decoration'."

"But--"

Sam sped up. " No, Sapnap. That's final."

Sapnap scowled, hurrying to match the creeper hybrid's long strides. "Fine. Spoilsport."

They crested the top of the hill, only to pause when they caught sight of Dream. The man was standing with his back to them. His arms were flung out wide at his sides, head tilted back. His mask was laying in the grass by his feet. He was motionless, silent, face upturned towards the sky and relishing in the wind as it ran through his hair.

Sapnap and Sam exchanged glances, then quietly retreated. They could argue about internal decoration elsewhere.)

Two weeks later, Dream appeared at Sam's house in the middle of the night.

(Sam blinked. "Dream? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Sam," Dream greeted, looking everywhere but his face. "I. . . can we talk?"

Sam pushed down his unease and stepped aside. "Sure, come on in. Do you want some. . . tea, or something?"

"N-no thanks," Dream managed, eyes darting to the threshold of Sam's house. "I. . . I. . ."

Sam waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. Dream took a deep breath and collected himself, straightening a bit.

"Could we talk outside?" he asked. "I. . . don't do well in. In enclosed spaces."

"Of course," Sam said immediately, stepping out. He left the door ajar. "Where do you want to go?"

"H-here is fine." Dream hesitantly sat down in the grass, still determinedly not looking at Sam. Sam quickly copied him. "I. . . um, I wanted to apologize."

Sam blinked. "Apologize? For what?"

"For. For, uh." Dream made a frustrated noise, hands tearing at the grass. "I'm not scared of you, Sam, but I keep-- keep flinching and stuff-- I-- I don't want you to get the wrong idea--"

"Dream. Take deep breaths. You're okay."

Dream ducked his head. "Yeah, okay. I'm. I'm okay. I'm good."

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, listening to the crickets.

"I know you're not scared of me," Sam said gently. Dream jerked in surprise. "But you don't have to. . . to talk with me if you're uncomfortable. I won't be hurt."

But Dream was shaking his head. "I want to talk with you," he insisted. "You just. . . you just remind me of someone else."

Sam paused, running that statement through his head. "Then is there any way I can. . . remind you less?"

"I don't want you to change."

"Dream, you're my friend. I want you to feel safe, and if it means changing my appearance, I'll gladly do it."

Dream hesitated, plucking a blade of grass. Sam watched as he tore it to shreds, letting him think for a long moment.

". . . I know it's weird, but. . . but could you. . . hide your armor somehow? I'm not asking you to stop wearing it," Dream added hastily, "just. . . wear it under a. . . a shirt or tunic or something over it? You-- the other S-- other person was always wearing-- always wearing full netherite."

"I can do that," Sam said, already running through his closet in his head. He probably had a couple of shirts that were loose enough to fit over his armor. "Anything else?"

Dream bit his lip. "Your. . . mask looks a lot like his."

Sam blinked, hands automatically coming up to touch his gas mask. He couldn't exactly go around without it, but there were other ways to adjust its appearance. He could paint it, change up the color scheme. Maybe a nice shade of bronze? He made a mental note to ask Ponk for ideas.

He realized belatedly that he hadn't replied to Dream. The other man had tensed up, white-tipped fingers crushing a single blade of grass. "Yeah," Sam assured quickly. "I can paint it or something. Been wanting to try a different color for a while now."

Dream's fingers slowly relaxed, releasing the blade of grass.. ". . . Thanks," he said quietly. He still wasn't looking at Sam, but the slant of his shoulders had softened.

Progress. Sam smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling into crescents. "Anytime.")

The healing process was slow. It took weeks for Dream to come out of seclusion. When he did, he stayed on the fringes of the group, content to remain out of the center of attention. The others didn't treat him any differently, accepting him as he was and backing off when he appeared to be too overwhelmed.

Slowly, he began to open up. It was visible in the small things-- when he let them see his face every so often, when he didn't flinch away from an accidental brush of the shoulders. When he was finally able to look Sam in the eyes, and smile at him without a hint of fear.

Sam didn't know what had happened to Dream. None of them did. But they were his friends, and they were going to support him every step of the way.

60. (credit to Thinkingisoverrated)

George yawned, sitting up in the bed. He blinked blearily against the sunlight, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the window. Based on the position of the sun, it was probably around 10 in the morning.

He pulled the covers off and made to stand, only to pause and stare at the floor. The floor, which had been entirely replaced with slime blocks.

George calmly rolled back into bed. He wasn't awake enough to deal with this.

~~~

"TOMMY!"

"WHAT?"

"WHY THE HELL IS THE FLOOR MADE OUT OF SLIME?!"

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ASKING ME?!"

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tommy--"

"The AUDACITY," Tommy continued, pressing a hand to his chest. "You really think--"

"Tommy."

"--I would vandalize our great nation of L'Manberg like this? I'm the fucking VICE PRESIDENT, Wil--"

"Tommy."

"--this is just downright disrespectful--"

"There is literally a fucking sign, " Wilbur snapped, jabbing a finger at said sign, "with 'big man TombyInnit'-- and I don't know how the fuck you misspelled your own name-- 'wuz here', on top of a pile of slime blocks."

"I was framed," Tommy sniffed. "This is obviously Dream's fault."

Wilbur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Calm. He was the epitome of calm. He couldn't murder his vice president, it would be bad for publicity. "Tommy," he began.

"Nuh-uh," Tommy snapped. He jabbed a finger at Wilbur. "I'm not gonna stand here and listen to you accuse me of crimes I definitely didn't commit. Either apologize or fuck off."

Okay, screw being calm. Wilbur was going to murder the gremlin, publicity be damned.

~~~

"How."

Eret glanced down at his shoes. "Practice."

"You practiced walking on slime blocks in five-inch platform heels," Fundy deadpanned.

"It makes it easier to walk on normal blocks."

"Did you practice walking on ice too?"

Eret blinked. "That's. . . a great idea, actually. Let's go find some ice--"

"Eret, that wasn't a challenge--"

"--and hope I don't break an ankle again.'

Fundy paused. ". . . Again?"

Eret hummed noncommittally and began strolling away.

"Wait-- Eret, wait what do you mean again?!"

~~~

"THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

"Glad one of us is having fun," Sapnap grumbled, warily inching forward. Karl whooped and leapt off the tree, bouncing off the slime blocks and doing a backflip midair.

"You're the only one not having fun," Quackity pointed out. He jumped into the air and splayed out like a starfish, landing with an oomph on the slime blocks and bouncing right off. Sapnap scowled at him.

"I had plans for today, but then some fucker replaced the ground with slime blocks!"

"Relaaaax," Quackity wheedled, peeling himself off the ground and sidling up to him. "That rage can't be good for your blood pressure."

Sapnap scowled and stepped away, somehow keeping his footing on the slippery blocks. "Stay away from me. You're covered in slime."

A glint appeared in Quackity's eye. "What, scared of a little slime?"

"No," Sapnap snapped, pointedly moving back. Quackity took another step forward. "Stop, Quackity. Stay the fuck away--"

"Come here, Sapnap. Lemme give you a hug--"

"I said stay away-- "

Quackity lunged. Sapnap tried to dodge, but his feet slipped out from under him. He rebounded off the slime blocks and slammed right into Quackity, sending them to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

They lay there for a long moment. In the distance, Karl catapulted himself off another tree, screaming with joy. Sapnap sighed.

"I want a divorce."

"We're not married, dumbass."

Loop Notes
58. Wilbur was very salty about the whole affair. He did feel better after dropping a dirt block on Schlatt's face, though.
59. Occurs fairly early in the loops. Five prison loops straight, and a jailbreak that Sapnap foiled via stabbing Dream. Waking up in a loop where they were still friends was. . . jarring. He's rather distant around Callahan and Alyssa because they disappeared fairly early into the server's history. George, however, was the one person that stuck around (even if he was asleep most of the time) and didn't hurt him (though he didn't help him, either) - thus, he's the most open to him.
60. And so they got married, just so they could get divorced.