61. (inspired by YHN017)

"I didn't know you liked scarves."

Dream looked up, raising an eyebrow at Sapnap. "I don't."

". . . But you're wearing one right now."

Dream glanced down at the furry grey scarf draped around his neck. "Oh, Big T? He's not a scarf. He's my emotional support raccoon."

Said raccoon opened its eyes and proceeded to fix him with a glare that would have sent lesser men running for their lives. Sapnap laughed nervously and took a step back.

"Oh, uh, my bad. Sorry. Thought it was a scarf from the angle."

"He doesn't like being called a scarf," Dream warned. The raccoon bared its teeth in a fanged grin, beady eyes fixing on Sapnap's neck.

Sapnap decided that a tactical retreat was in order, gave Dream a hasty goodbye, and did exactly that.

~~~

"So he's missing."

"Yes," Wilbur said impatiently. "Yes, he is. So have you seen him?"

Dream hummed. "Can't say I have, sorry." He looked down at the - was that a goose? - standing dutifully by his feet. "Destroyer, have you seen Tommy?"

The goose honked and shook its head. "What the fuck," said Wilbur.

"Ah, I haven't introduced you yet." Dream patted the goose on its head, ignoring it when it tried to bite his fingers off. "Destroyer, this is Wilbur. Wilbur, this is Destroyer, my emotional support goose."

Wilbur had many, many questions. The foremost being: "Why the fuck is it named 'Destroyer'?"

"Because he is the destroyer of humanity's hopes and dreams," Dream said sagely. The destroyer of humanity's hopes and dreams in question reared backward, spreading its wings wide and honking aggressively. Wilbur took a step back as it advanced, its webbed feet slapping menacingly against the wooden pathway.

"Why is he doing that?"

"Doing what?" Dream asked, apparently finding nothing wrong with the goose's posturing. Wilbur gestured at the goose as it took another step forward.

"That."

Dream shrugged. "Oh, he probably wants to bite you. I'd suggest running."

The goose abruptly snapped its wings shut and barreled full speed towards Wilbur. Wilbur couldn't stop the instinctive shriek of fear that rose in his throat, and within seconds he was off, bolting down the path with an angry goose hot on his heels.

Dream grinned.

~~~

"This is Rat."

"You can't just steal my dog's name," Bad protested.

Dream shrugged. "Rat is just your dog's nickname, she doesn't need it. And my Rat is an actual rat."

"Okay. One, Rat had the name first, so obviously it should be hers. Two. . . that's a hamster, Dream."

Dream let out an offended gasp, clutching his emotional support hamster to his chest. "How could you hurt his feelings like that?! Calling him a hamster?!"

The hamster bared its teeth at Bad and let out a very un-hamster-like hiss. Dream patted it on the head. "You're a rat, Rat. Don't listen to Bad, he's a meanie."

"But that's a hamster," Bad protested. At the twin appalled looks he received, he threw his hands up into the air. "Okay, fine, he's a rat! My point about the name stands."

Dream drew himself up to his full height (which was still a couple feet short of Bad's) and glared at him. "He's a rat. Therefore, his name is Rat. Nickname your dog Dog, or something."

". . . Why don't they share the name?" Bad suggested. The hamst-- sorry, rat hissed again. Dream shook his head.

"Rat's very territorial," he said. "He doesn't share."

Bad looked up to the heavens and wondered what he'd done to deserve this.

~~~

"What the fuck is that," Fundy shrieked. "What the fuck is that."

Dream turned to him. "Oh hey, Fundy."

"Don't 'hey Fundy' me!" Fundy screeched. "Why the fuck is there a giant lizard on the roof of the White House?!"

"He's not a lizard."

"THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS IT?!"

"Toom, my emotional support ender dragon."

Fundy looked torn between hysterical laughter and screaming. Dream patted him on the shoulder, then turned to watch as Tommy, currently a dragon, punted Schlatt off the roof for the fifth time in a row.

~~~

"So which one was your favorite?"

"The dragon," Tommy said instantly. "Probably the goose second, cause of flight and shit, but definitely the dragon. Everyone else was so fuckin' small."

Dream grinned. "Did you enjoy drop-kicking Schlatt?"

"Hell yes," Tommy declared. "It was very the-- theor-- theorputic."

"Therapeutic."

"That's what I said."

"Uh-huh." Dream eyed the potion bottles lined up on the table in front of him. "Well, new loop, so it's my turn to be the emotional support. What did you make?"

"Salmon, cat, rabbit, parrot," Tommy rattled off, tapping each potion as he named them. He tapped the fifth, empty bottle. "And ender dragon, if we can get some scales again."

"Which would be difficult," Dream mused, "since we got really lucky last time. We started at a later time this loop. XD will be more active."

A contemplative silence fell over them. Tommy turned the bottle over in his hands, then looked up at Dream. "Hey, big D. We never tried any hostile mobs besides the ender dragon, did we?"

Dream straightened. ". . .You think that would work?"

"Only one way to find out. How d'you feel about being a ghast?"

Dream's devious grin was answer enough.

62. (credit to Smallest)

"And the winner of the L'Manberg presidential election is. . ." Wilbur's smile slid off his face. ". . . Technoblade?"

"What?" Quackity asked.

"What?" Schlatt demanded.

"Bruhhh," Technoblade added from the audience.

Wilbur squinted at the poll results, looking appropriately bewildered. "I. . . this can't be right. Who counted the ballots?"

"Wait one fucking second," Schlatt ordered, hurrying to the front of the stage. He snatched the paper from Wilbur. ". . . Sixty-nine percent? What the fuck?"

"But Technoblade didn't even run!" Fundy cried. "How the hell did he win?!"

"See, this is what I'm tellin' you," Technoblade called. "This is why governments never work out. Voter fraud."

"I mean, voter fraud or not, he still won the election," Tommy said. He shrugged. "L'Manberg needs a president, and we might as well instate him while we investigate whatever the fuck happened with the vote."

"We are not swearing in an anarchist as president, Tommy," Wilbur snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, then stalked over to snatch the paper back from Schlatt. "Give me that. Okay, who won second-- Dream?!"

Tommy peered over his shoulder and whistled. "With forty-two percent of the votes, too. We had a huge voter turnout."

"Okay, there is no way a hundred and eleven percent of our citizens--"

"--a hundred and fifty, actually, 'cause Coconut 2020 got 39% of the vote--"

"--not the point, Tommy. There's no way a hundred and eleven percent of our citizens voted for parties that weren't even on the ballot. Unless some fuckers voted twice for some Primeforsaken reason, but-- seriously, what the fuck?"

Tommy shrugged. "The people have spoken, Wilbur. Techno's gonna be the president. Technoblade!"

"I did not consent to this," Technoblade deadpanned.

"You don't get a choice," Tommy replied cheerily. "But think of it this way! When you become president, you can officially dissolve the government!"

An unholy gleam appeared in Technoblade's eyes. He rose to his feet.

"Tommy," Wilbur hissed. "Tommy, what the fuck are you doing."

Tommy shrugged. "Just giving him some incentive to take office."

"We don't want him to take office, Tommy."

"Sure we do. He'll make a great president."

"He's an anarchist. His party is literally called 'ANARCHY2020'."

Tommy looked Wilbur in the eye. "A. Great. President," he repeated slowly.

Wilbur threw his hands into the air. "He doesn't even have a vice!"

"Sure he does!" Tommy plucked the paper from Wilbur's grasp and tapped the name written beside Technoblade's. "See? Philza Minecraft!"

"Who isn't even on the fucking server!"

"So? Your point?"

Wilbur made an incomprehensible noise of frustration.

63. toddler tales, pt. 4 (inspired by Gamergamer) 

There was a small child stalking Puffy.

Not that the small child knew that she knew he was stalking her. She was careful not to react whenever the sound of a branch snapping or childish giggles reached her ears. Occasionally, she did sneak a glance, catching a flash of brown hair and viridian eyes before they disappeared back into the foliage.

She bit back a smile as another twig snapped. All sound instantly ceased, as if the child had frozen, before slowly resuming when Puffy merely continued to stroll unbothered down the path. A low, hissing conversation started behind her, and when she glanced back, she caught sight of a pair of blue eyes before they vanished with an 'eep'.

Correction: there were two small children stalking Puffy.

Puffy dearly wanted to hunt down Dream and demand to know why he thought inviting two toddlers to a server like this was a good idea. Unfortunately, nobody had seen Dream in nearly a month. Puffy would have to settle for protecting the kids until he reappeared again.

She hummed thoughtfully. The children had been following her for nearly twenty minutes, and appeared to have no intention of revealing themselves. With that in mind, she sped up, slipped around a bend in the path, then stepped into the foliage. With experienced movements, she padded silently across the forest floor, heading towards the hushed, ongoing conversation.

The two children came into view. Puffy let out a quiet huff of air at the sight of them. Prime, they were tiny.

"Where'd she go?" the one wearing an oversized dress shirt and brown cloak hissed.

"How the fuck would I know?" the other one snapped. He, too, was sporting an oversized shirt, the rolled-up sleeves dragging on the ground. Puffy cleared her throat.

Both children whipped around, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. "Hello," Puffy said.

"Hi," the smaller one squeaked. "Please don't kill me."

Puffy's smile dropped. Oh, she would be having words with whoever hurt this kid. "I'm not going to hurt you," she promised, crouching down. "What're your names?"

Both children remained silent, staring mistrustfully at her. Puffy smiled slightly. Not giving their names to strangers-- smart.

"Here, I'll go first. My name's Puffy. Are your parents nearby?"

The child with green eyes - Puffy just decided to dub him Green until she figured out his name - shook his head. The other child - Blue - puffed up, his chubby face twisting into a scowl.

"Whas' it to you?" he demanded. "You gonna kidnap us too?"

Okay, forget having words. Puffy would be stabbing whoever kidnapped these two. Were they stolen from another server? Their parents must be worried out of their minds.

"I just want to help you find your parents again," she soothed. "How did you get onto this server?"

A pause. ". . . The kidnapper said we were in the future," Blue said slowly.

Green peeked out from behind Blue. "He said we got turned into kids."

Puffy blinked slowly. "Got. . . turned into kids?" Green nodded silently.

"My name is Tommy," Blue blurted impulsively. He paused, then ducked his head. "TommyInnit."

If Puffy wasn't already crouching, she'd probably have fallen over. "Oh," she said blankly. "I. . . that explains a lot, actually."

Blue-- Tommy watched her warily, legs half-bent as though he was ready to run at a moment's notice. Puffy forced herself to smile. "I know you," she told the child. "You're a good kid. Bit chaotic, but everyone loves you." The last part was a bit of a stretch, but toddler Tommy didn't need to know that.

"Really?" Tommy asked, his eyes narrowed. "What about Dream?"

Puffy's mouth went dry. "Dream?" she asked. Green startled and shrunk behind Tommy. Puffy stared at him.

Oh. Oh Prime.

The other kid was Dream. Whoever they'd last run into had probably tried to kill him, given that they were near L'Manberg territory. Puffy forced herself to smile.

"Dream wasn't. . . friends with a lot of people," she said delicately. "He did some things that some people didn't like."

"Are you one of 'em?" Tommy demanded. Puffy shook her head.

"He's my duckling," she said. At the confused looks she received, she added, "My friend. It's an inside joke, because I mother-hen him a lot."

Dream blinked. "Oh." He shifted uncomfortably. "Um. Can you. . . can you hide us?"

Tommy's head whipped around. " Dream!" he hissed, then clapped his hands over his mouth and glanced at Puffy.

Puffy grinned. "It's okay, kid. I promised I wouldn't hurt you, and Dream and I are-- were good friends."

Tommy eyed her suspiciously but relaxed slightly, lowering his hands. "Dream," he whispered. "Dream, we can't trust 'er."

"But I'm hungry," Dream whispered back. As if on cue, his stomach growled. "I dun' wanna keep running forever."

Tommy looked between Puffy and Dream, clearly torn. Puffy waited patiently, keeping a gentle smile on her face. After several tense seconds, Tommy finally caved.

"Fine," he snapped. He jabbed a finger at Puffy. "But-- but if you try to--"

"I won't," Puffy swore. "I promise."

Tommy squinted at her like he was assessing her trustworthiness. At last he nodded sharply, crossing his arms.

"Okay," he agreed, with all the pomp and self-importance of a king bestowing amnesty upon his subjects. "Now take us to the food."

64. the adventures of dreaxter, pt. 6 

"SAM!" Sapnap shouted. He kicked the portal frame. "I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR US!"

George sighed. "Sapnap, that's not going to work."

"SAM, YOU FUCKING COWARD! ANSWER ME!"

"What are you doing?" Both men jolted, spinning around to see Dreaxter floating through the wall. The ghost was covered in a fine coating of glitter, flakes occasionally drifting to the floor. He glanced at the portal frame, then back at Sapnap. "Why are you yelling at a wall?"

"It's a portal," Sapnap answered. "Currently deactivated, because the wARDEN IS TOO SCARED TO GIVE ME SOME FUCKING ANSWERS!"

Dreaxter watched curiously as Sapnap kicked the portal frame again. "I can go look for him if you want," he offered. "The walls don't stop me."

Sapnap paused, studying him with an unreadable gaze. He glanced at George, who shrugged, then looked back to Dream.

"I don't know," he began. "You. . . it might bring up some bad memories."

Dreaxter shook his head. "I've been all over the server and I haven't remembered anything new," he assured. "I'm sure it'll be fine!"

He moved towards the portal, only for Sapnap to step in his way. "Are you sure about this?" he asked seriously. Dream nodded.

"Mhm! Don't worry, I'll let Sam know that you wanna talk."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the wall behind the empty portal frame.

~~~

"Woahhhh," Dream muttered, running an incorporeal hand over the redstone contraption and leaving a trail of glitter behind. He'd seen the inner workings of Pandora's Vault maybe only two or three times before, and they amazed him every time. Heck, he'd probably even have dedicated several loops to studying it if he didn't have so much bad history with this place.

Turning away, he poked his head through another wall, grimacing when he realized he was overlooking the moat. "Wrong way," he muttered, retreating back into the building and glancing around. "Hmm. . ."

He floated over to another wall and stuck his head through, grinning triumphantly when he came out into a hallway. Perfect! Now he just needed to figure out which hallway.

Gliding down the hall and through a locked door, he found a spiral staircase. Dream ran the prison blueprints through his head. Okay, so he was on the second floor. He had no idea where Sam was, but he would probably be in one of the guards-only rooms. If he remembered correctly, the locker rooms would be right up ahead.

He phased through the next door and found himself in the locker room. One of the lockers was thrown open, netherite gear and miscellaneous items scattered about the floor. It was also conspicuously absent of one prison warden.

"Huh," he muttered, then continued on. He passed into an equipping room, which was also empty of any living beings, then paused, glancing between the two exits.

The one to his left led to a long hallway and a security monitoring room. The one to his right led to the main cell.

Dream hesitated. Sam was probably in the monitoring room, but. . .

He turned right.

Slipping through the door, he entered a short hallway that opened into a large room with lever-lined walls. Straight across from him was a wall of lava, obscuring the entrance to the cell where he had died. He stared into the waves of yellow and orange and wondered if it would affect him the same way water did. Did it hurt? If he walked into it, would he burn to death, like he had so many times in this very building?

An odd, cold feeling rose in his chest. When Dream looked down, his hands were stained with dark green, fingers bent oddly and fingernails torn off. He flexed them, frowning when the action failed to cause him any pain. It was probably just a matter of appearance, then.

"Dr-Dream?"

"Sam!" Dreaxter whirled around, beaming. The green vanished from his uninjured hands. "There you are! I've been looking for you!"

The warden went pale, staggering back a few steps. The trident dropped from his numb fingers. Dreaxter frowned. "Are you okay?"

Sam's laugh bordered on the edge of hysterical. "Am I-- no, no, Dream, you can't-- what are you doing here?"

"My name's Dreaxter," Dreaxter corrected. "Sapnap wanted to talk to you, but you weren't answering, so I came up here to tell you. Are you okay? You don't look okay. Here, have some glitter."

Before Sam could react, the ghost had drifted up to him and dropped a handful of glitter over his head. The warden tried to bat him away on instinct, but his hands swished right through Dreaxter's incorporeal form. The ghost drifted back, frowning.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked.

Sam looked down at himself. His head and shoulders were now dusted with glitter. "You just threw glitter at me," he said, sounding bewildered.

Dreaxter nodded. "I did."

". . . Why?"

"Because glitter makes people happy!" Dreaxter beamed, doing a twirl to showcase his glitter-covered hoodie. "See? I've got lots, so I'm really happy!"

"It's like Ghostbur's Blue," Sam realized. He sounded. . . off, shaky, his words a bit too breathy. Dreaxter tilted his head, taking a moment to really look at him.

Sam looked - for lack of a better term - like a mess. His hair was a rat's nest, his eyebags had eyebags, and he was almost as pale as Dreaxter.

"When was the last time you saw the sun?"

Sam startled. "What?"

"When was the last time you saw the sun?" the ghost repeated. "You look terrible."

Sam laughed. The sound was edged with hysteria. "It's-- been a while," he choked out, pressing a hand to his face. "Prime. Prime, Dream. How much do you remember?"

"Dreaxter," the ghost corrected automatically. "Not a lot. I remember making the server, I think. You were there, with Sapnap and George, and Bad, and. . . and. . ." his brow furrowed. "I can't remember. Tommy says I've forgotten a lot."

Sam jerked. "Tommy? You're-- you know Tommy?"

"He's my friend," Dream said. Sam shuddered, looking slightly sick. "But anyway, I came here because. . . because Sapnap wanted to talk to you! I remember that. He's been trying to call you for a while. And, and I came up here to tell you."

"I know," Sam said shortly.

Dreaxter blinked. "You. . . know?"

Sam turned away and began heading back down the hall. "Yes."

"Wait, wait, what?" The ghost hurried after him. "Then why didn't you answer him?"

"Because I don't want to talk to him."

Dreaxter frowned. ". . . Why?"

Sam slowed as they entered another room, weighing his answer. "It's a long story," he said at last.

"I have time."

Sam exhaled sharply. "It's. . . you don't want to know, Dream. Sorry. Dreaxter."

Dreaxter worried his bottom lip, looking contemplative. "Then. . . will you tell me, at least?"

Sam stopped in his tracks. "Tell you what?"

"You know. How, um, how I died."

Several long seconds ticked by. ". . . You don't remember," Sam said softly.

"Not a lot," Dreaxter admitted. "I know I was cold, but. . ."

Sam abruptly started moving again, swifter this time. Dreaxter yelped. "Wait, Sam! Where are you going?!"

"You don't want to know how you died," Sam answered, his eyes fixed on the door at the end of the hall.

"I think I do, actually," the ghost protested.

"No," The warden gritted out, pressing his keycard against a scanner. The door unlocked with a click and he pushed it open, stepping into the monitoring room. "Just. Don't ask."

"Wait, Sam, I just want to know--"

"Goodbye, Dream."

Sam shut the door. Dreaxter stared at it for a long moment, the glitter dusting his hands and hair fading away. His form began to flicker, fading between a torn prison jumpsuit and his customary hoodie.

Silently, he turned and floated away.

65. (inspired by Shyguy10)

"I have a really bad feeling about this."

Tommy scoffed, swirling the bottle in his hand. "What, scared of some birds?"

"Scared of Chat," Dream corrected. "And for good reason."

"C'mon, Dream. We spent so much effort getting the feathers from Chat, we can't just give up now. What's the worst that could happen?"

"A lot of things," Dream deadpanned, but he uncorked his bottle and raised it towards Tommy. "Well, here goes. Cheers."

Tommy watched as he downed the potion. For a moment, nothing happened. Dream frowned, looking up at Tommy, only to yelp when he began to shrink. Soon, he had disappeared under a mountain of clothes.

Tommy crouched down. "Hey, Big D? You alive?"

A disgruntled-looking crow wiggled out from under the hoodie, its feathers in disarray. It gave itself a good shake, then proceeded to go still and stare blankly into the distance.

"Uh, Dream?" Tommy waved a hand in front of the crow's face. "You good?"

The crow jumped, letting out a startled squawk. It waddled over to Tommy and pecked at the potion bottle in his hands.

"Okay, okay," Tommy muttered, uncorking the bottle and downing it. "Happy?"

Dream watched him, head tilted to the side. Tommy grimaced as the familiar, borderline-uncomfortable tingling that accompanied animal transformations washed over him. Soon he was shrinking, the trees around them appearing to grow larger and larger.

Fighting his way out of the pile of discarded clothing, he stomped over to Dream. "Okay," he squawked. Prime, he hated trying to talk as a bird. Even though it was possible, it put a ridiculous amount of strain on his vocal cords and also sounded terrible. "What's the big--"

NEW CROWS? NEW CHAT MEMBERS? WELCOME!! HELLO HELLO HELLO!

"--holy fucking shit," he breathed, staggering sideways as a cacophony of overlapping voices exploded in his brain. "What the fuck. What the fuck."

Woahh we haven't had new members in so long. SO LONG. Who? Who? Who? I'm Dream. That's Tommy.

Tommy startled, whipping around to look at Dream. He recognized that last voice.

Dream? He asked. Wait, we have telepathic brain shit now?

Dream cocked his head. Seems like it.

Dream and Tommy? Tommy and Dream? Discduo? Discduo pog. Wait how? How did you join us? Philza wouldn't. But he could. But Dream. All three lives? Impossible.

Tommy frowned. Or tried to frown. It was difficult with a beak. The hell are you talking about?

A pause. The voices died away, leaving one - the voice of an old man.

We are the slain, he said, the ones who have chosen to forgive but not forget. Our blood stains his hands.

Dream straightened. Philza killed you.

He did. We forgave him though! Centuries is a long time to hold a grudge. He didn't have a choice. I chose to die. He had family, he had to. Speak for yourself, I'm still mad. THAT BETTER BE /J BESTIE. Ofc it's /j I'm here aren't I? Those who forget and those who refuse to forgive move on, but we stay with him. But you're not dead. How did you join us? We would have known if he'd killed Dream. Right? I think? Yeah, definitely.

Wait, wait, wait, Tommy started. You said-- Philza killed you? You're, like, the souls of the people he killed?

Got it in one! Yep. Yeah. Yes. Uh-huh. That's literally what we just said, idiot.

What about Wilbur?

Wilbur had nothing to forgive, but he chose to forget. Big L. He's a ghostie boy now! An amnesiac ghostie boy! Stop changing the subject and tell us how you became one of us.

We drank a potion, Dream said.

A potion? Potion? That must have been why they were picking up our feathers. What kind of stupid-ass potion would turn you into one of us? Does that even exist?

Tommy invented it.

By accident, Tommy clarified.

TOMMYINNIT IS A POTION GENIUS??? NOT CLICKBAIT??? You older generations grow more chaotic by the year. WE'VE BEEN AROUND A LONG TIME, YOUNG ONE. WE NEED OUR ENTERTAINMENT. That's hypocritical, calling us chaotic. You younger generations aren't any better. DON'T TEST US. Anyways, why did you join us? Good question. What are your motivations? Sus. Amogus? NO SHUT UP THAT'S DEAD. Yo wait I thought discduo were mortal enemies? But they're friends now? Confusion???

Dream and Tommy glanced at each other.

Do we tell them?

Can't hurt.

Actually--

You realize we can still hear you, right? There's no dms in this Chat. Pain. Spain without the s. Piano without the o. That spells 'pian'. Go away grammar palice your not welcome hear. ANYWAYS. Why're you here? We won't tell Phil, promise. Cross our wings and hope to fly. That makes no sense. Shhhhh.

Tommy huffed. . . . we're stuck in a time loop and we want to mess with Phil because we're bored.

There was a moment of silence.

Not the weirdest thing we've heard, honestly. Imagine getting stuck in a time loop L. Remember that one time in se--WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT. Messing with Phil? That's our specialty. Great idea. All aboard the Messing With Phil train! What're we doing first?

~~~

Philza groaned, blearily peeling open his eyes. Given how his room was pitch-dark, it was probably some unholy hour of morning.

So why the fuck was someone playing music in his living room?

Grumbling, he dragged himself out of bed, drawing his sword and trudging over to his bedroom door. "Alright you little shits," he declared, slamming it open, only to be blasted in the face with Caramelldansen playing at 95 decibels at two in the morning. The crows blanketing his living room floor ignored him, continuing to shuffle around in an oddly organized square dance.

Philza stared at them for a long moment, then decided he was too sleep-deprived to question the inner workings of Chat's collective hive mind. Grimacing, he scanned the room, looking for the source of the Primeforsaken music. He eventually located it - a single jukebox, manned by two crows he didn't recognize. He cautiously skirted around the edges of the room, trying to avoid stepping on any crows. When he reached the jukebox, he reached out to pull the disc out-- only to get pecked by one of the crows.

"Shoo," he ordered, batting at it. He received an indignant squawk and another peck for his efforts. Sighing, he picked the crow up and tucked it against his chest, keeping its wings pinned with one arm. The other crow perched on the edge of the device made no move to stop him as he reached out and removed the disc, instead watching him with beady eyes.

The moment the music stopped, the crows froze in place. Even the one Phil pinned down went still. As one, their heads swiveled around to stare at the jukebox. Kinda unnerving, but Philza wasn't going to ask any questions. He just wanted to sleep, damnit.

The crow perched on the edge of the jukebox tilted its head, then snapped its beak. Philza's brain short-circuited as another disk appeared in a flash of light. The crow leaned forward and carefully placed the disc into the jukebox. The music resumed.

Philza stared at the crow as it sat back. Somehow, this crow had an inventory. Had Chat always had an inventory? Is that why all his shiny things kept disappearing?

Slowly, he reached out and stole the second disc. The crow just pulled out another copy of the disc and placed it in the jukebox, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

Philza sighed and resigned himself to a long, sleepless night.

Loop Notes:
61. Getting the ender dragon scales for the animal transformation potion took a lot of time, crime, and bargaining with god, but the end result was definitely worth it.
65. Eventually, Philza realized he could break the jukebox. So he did. Unfortunately, Dream had five more.