166. (credit to ori)

"So you're saying that Dream and Tommy are dueling."

"Yup," said Wilbur, appearing very invested in the scene before him. "This is the defining moment, Jack. The moment we win independence, or lose it all."

Jack stared at the bridge. On one end stood a cardboard cutout of Tommy. On the other end stood a cardboard cutout of Dream. Both had bows and arrows haphazardly taped to their 'hands'. Neither were capable of using them.

"You. . . do realize those aren't Tommy and Dream, right?"

Wilbur looked at him like he was crazy. "What do you mean? Of course it's Tommy and Dream!" Before Jack could point out the inherent falsity of that statement, Wilbur turned back to the bridge and shouted, "TOMMY, TAKE THE SHOT!"

Sapnap, standing on the other side of the bridge, also began yelling. "DREAM! C'MON MAN, YOU CAN DO THIS!"

A particularly strong gust of wind swept through the area, knocking Tommy's teetering cutout over. Sapnap let out a shout of victory while Wilbur fell to his knees.

"TOMMY! NO!" he wailed, shaking a fist at the sky. Jack thought he even shed a tear. "DAMN YOU, DREAM!"

The cardboard cutout did not reply. Jack wondered if it was too late to leave L'Manberg.

~~~

"Tubbo. Tubbo, please."

Tubbo looked up from where he was duct-taping an iron sword to 'Tommy's' hand. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Niki stared at him. "You-- you're taping a sword on its hand."

"Tommy doesn't have the best grip."

"He is still a child," Wilbur chimed in. "His muscles are still developing, you know? We don't want him dropping his weapon when we fight Schlatt."

"That is a cardboard cutout," Niki pointed out. Tubbo snipped off a bit of duct tape and frowned at her.

"Hey, I know he doesn't talk much, but calling him cardboard's a bit rude, innit?"

At that moment, the cardboard cutout flopped on its face. The weight of the iron sword had proven too great for its supports. Tubbo nodded sagely.

"See? He's hurt. You should apologize."

Niki made a mental note to check if someone had put something in the L'Manberg water supply.

~~~

"Is nobody questioning this?"

"What, the wedding?"

"Yes!"

George glanced at the newlyweds, then back to Jack. "I mean, they seem pretty happy together."

"Fundy is marrying a piece of cardboard!"

George wrinkled his nose as he took another sip from his flute of champagne. "Listen, I know Dream isn't very expressive, but calling him cardboard--"

"That's literally just a cardboard cutout of Dream."

"--is just mean." George sighed. "Guess you weren't made best man for a reason."

"And Fundy's best man is a cardboard cutout too--"

"Hey, Tommy's a good kid. Can't you just accept him and Dream as they are?"

Jack made an incomprehensible noise of frustration and stormed out of the post-wedding banquet.

~~~

"You know, Dream's been pretty quiet since the Independence War." Technoblade shifted his copy of The Art of War to the side so he could set down his teacup. "I've been thinkin' about puttin' him in therapy, actually. Get him to talk about his feelings with someone who can help."

"That's a good idea," Philza agreed. He took a sip of his tea, then glanced over at Niki, who was practically strangling her cup with her white-knuckled grip. "Niki? Is something wrong?"

"Please," Niki blurted, on the verge of tears. "Please see through whatever witchcraft this is-- I don't know why you all think that's a real person--"

"Hush Niki, enjoy your tea." To punctuate his point, Philza reached across the table and refilled her teacup. "You've been so rude ever since Dream joined our book club. He just doesn't talk much. Don't judge him for that-- it hurts his feelings." He turned to his left, where 'Dream' had been propped up in a chair. "Are you okay, Dream?"

The cardboard cutout continued to stare blankly at the rapidly-cooling tea set in front of it. Philza nodded like it had poured out the contents of its nonexistent soul to him and turned back to Niki. "See? You shouldn't judge him so harshly."

Niki gave up all decorum, put her face in her hands, and sobbed.

~~~

"So how was your vacation?"

"Poggers," Tommy chirped. "Man, Tubs, it's good to see you. How's L'Manberg been?"

"Pretty good! We're operating as a stable democracy now. Wilbur just brokered a trade deal with Dr-- ahem, George last week."

Tommy stopped in his tracks. "Wait, George?"

Tubbo blinked at him. "Yeah? Dream ran off for his own vacation about a day after you - declared George king of the SMP first, so he took over ruling duties."

"Huh," Tommy said. "I missed a lot."

Tubbo snickered. "Oh, you did. Prime, Tommy, it's been a long three months-- I have so much to tell you."

Tommy side-eyed him. "Do I want to know?"

"Oh, definitely." Before Tommy could question that ominous statement, Tubbo jabbed a finger at the horizon. "Look! It's Jack!"

Tommy turned. Indeed, Jack Manifold stood stock-still on the Prime Path. His gaze bored into them as they approached.

Brushing Jack's strange expression off as surprise at his appearance, Tommy strode up to him and offered him a handshake. "Ay, Jack Manifold! Haven't seen you in a while, how are you? How's the hotel business going?"

Jack stared blankly at them. "No," he said, and promptly turned and walked away. Tommy blinked at his retreating back, then lowered his hand and turned to Tubbo.

". . . Did I say something wrong?"

Tubbo was laughing too hard to reply.

~~~

"Sounds like George's been doing a pretty good job."

"Don't sound so surprised," Sapnap joked. Dream rolled his eyes, turning away from the newly-built Kinoko sector of L'Manberg. He caught sight of a figure standing several feet away.

"Oh hey, it's Niki. Niki!" he called, waving at her. "Hi!"

Slowly, Niki turned around. She stared at him for a long moment. Gradually, Dream began to realize something was off-- her hair was unkempt, her eyes wild, and her hands were clenched into shaking fists.

"You," she snarled with the burning hatred of a thousand suns.

"M-me?" Dream glanced at Sapnap for help, but the other man was indisposed; he appeared to be choking on his tongue with the effort of keeping his laughter contained. Dream turned to Niki. "D-did I do something wrong?"

Niki made a sound not dissimilar to a cat with its tail stepped on, hands twitching like she wanted to reach out and throttle Dream. She opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to express the sheer extent of her rage. At last she let out a frustrated shout, flung her arms towards the sky, and stormed away. Dream watched her go in bewilderment, then turned to Sapnap.

". . . What did I do?"

Sapnap, who had by now managed to wrangle his howling laughter into something resembling regular respiration, merely brushed a few tears off his face and waved a hand. "Follow me, there's-- there's something you have to see."

167. (credit to ori)

"So let me get this straight." George propped his goggles up on his head so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "The three of you go off the grid for two days, sending half the server into panic and starting an impromptu manhunt - and you're telling me you married a cactus?"

"Technically, Dream was the one who married the cactus," Sapnap muttered. "I was just there as the best man."

The glare George leveled at him would have killed a lesser man. As it was, Sapnap quailed and fell silent.

"Snuggles is my platonic soulmate," Dream said.

"Thank you, Dream, for your valuable and completely unasked for input." George held up a hand when Dream opened his mouth. "No. Don't say anything. Punz, I trust you to be sane - what the fuck happened?"

"You see," Punz drawled, "Dream found a cactus. He liked the cactus. He named it Snuggles, decided to platonically marry it, and enlisted me to act as the officiant in the wedding. Sapnap made him promise a long time ago that he'd be the best man at his wedding, so. . . we ran off, found a secluded location, had the ceremony, and came back as soon as we were done."

George's eye twitched. ". . . Right. And why did this take two days?"

"Honeymoon."

George's eyebrow began twitching as well.

"I have Snuggles's wedding dress if you don't believe me," Dream offered.

"Do you have the brain cells you lost?"

"Now that's just mean, Gogy," Sapnap scolded. "Just because he married a cactus--"

"Seeing as you apparently didn't protest this decision, I think you might have lost your brain cell as well. Singular. Because you only have one."

"It's his platonic soulmate--"

"It's a cactus, Sapnap!"

Dream interrupted their conversation by shoving an album into George's hands. "We took a ton of pictures on our honeymoon! Look, we shared a coconut on the beach--"

George stared blankly at the first photo, which depicted Dream and the cactus sitting across from each other. A coconut sat on the table between them, two colorful straws sticking out of its thick shell. A vibrant sunset backlit the two of them in gold. It would have been very artistic. . . if not for the cactus.

"Snuggles loves coconut juice," Dream continued, blissfully unaware of George's growing headache. "Coconuts are her mortal enemy. Drinking their blood gives her strength."

"Why didn't you stop this?" George asked Punz.

The mercenary shrugged. "It was funny. And the cactus paid me."

"I'm sorry, the cactus paid you?"

"Showed up at my front door with a few blocks of netherite," Punz confirmed.

George felt the sudden, intense urge to go back to bed.

~~~

Wilbur, charismatic politician and possessor of the silver tongue, was speechless as he stared at his greatest enemy. When he finally regained his voice, he stammered out, "Why are you carrying a-- a cactus?"

"Snuggles is my platonic soulmate," said Dream. He affectionately patted Snuggles - who had been safely nested in a sturdy cross-body sling over his netherite armor - then carefully plucked the cactus spines from his fingers. "Aw, Snugs, you shouldn't have!"

Wilbur glanced past Dream to Dream's fighters, gaze meeting George's. Has he gone insane? His expression seemed to ask.

Probably, George's expression said back.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. Is he serious?

Oh, definitely.

Wilbur nodded slowly. "Dream," he said aloud. "How exactly. . . did you and Snuggles meet?"

To his surprise, Dream's entourage let out a unified groan. Dream, for his part, lit up. "Well, it all started when I stumbled across this gorgeous desert biome--"

~~~

Dream slammed his hands down on the prosecution stand. "Snuggles saw Tommy set the house on fire!"

"Snuggles isn't a viable witness," Tubbo countered. "Also, Snuggles should take the witness stand if it wants to testify."

Sapnap, looking unduly amused by the whole affair, set Snuggles - pot and all - on the witness podium. Dream pointed at the cactus. "She's on the witness stand, and she's testifying that Tommy burned the house down--"

"Again," Tubbo said, sounding incredibly tired, "Snuggles isn't sentient. Please stop trying to use a cactus as a witness."

"Snuggles is a real person. She has the right to testify."

"Dream, for the last time-- Snuggles is a fucking plant."

~~~

"I'm not homeless! Snuggles and I share a very nice cottage."

"I'm sure you do," Technoblade deadpanned. "Speaking of, where exactly is 'Snuggles'? I thought you two didn't go anywhere without each other."

Dream drooped, giving off the distinct impression of sulking. ". . . We had an argument," he admitted. "She told me to give her some space."

"L," Technoblade said unsympathetically. "Now if you're done crying about your nonexistent social life, the door's thataway."

"Wait, you still haven't told me where Tommy is--"

"Bye, Dream."

~~~

"It's over," Tommy snapped. He took a step forward. "Give up, Dream."

Dream shrunk into the wall, glancing wildly around. As Tommy approached, he took a deep breath. "SNUGGLES! HELP!"

The cactus was situated on the other side of the hall. At Dream's cry, it stepped out of its pot, sauntered over to him, and proceeded to slap him in the face.

"What the fuck," said Fundy. The cactus turned with a saucy flourish and flounced away. The crowd parted like the Red Sea before it, leaving a clear path to the Nether portal.

"NOOO!" Dream wailed. "SNUGGLES, COME BACK!"

His cries went unheeded. The cactus marched onwards towards the portal.

"What the fuck," Fundy repeated. The sentiment was echoed by several other members of the server. Neither the cactus nor the now-sobbing Dream appeared to hear them.

Fundy turned to Eret. He pointed at the cactus. "I'm not hallucinating, right? The cactus is walking?"

"You're not hallucinating," Eret assured him. At the look on Fundy's face, he reached over and gave him a commiserating pat on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

The cactus disappeared into the portal. Behind them, Dream's sobbing reached a fever pitch. Fundy leveled a perfectly deadpan look at Eret. "Is it? Is it really?"

". . . I have no idea," Eret admitted. "Does hearing it make you feel better, at least?"

"Not really."

"That's fair."

168. (credit to ori)

Tommy wiggled the snow-crusted boots off his feet and kicked them onto the mat. Tubbo helped him out of the heavy overcoat, which was tossed onto the coat rack.

"This fuckin' snow," Tommy grumbled as he unwrapped his scarf. "I don't get how you live here, it's cold."

"Well, you see, there's this wonderful thing called fire--" Tubbo cut himself off when Tommy whacked him in the arm. "Okay, okay. Yeah, it's cold, but I like it here. Peace and quiet, you know?" He beamed and turned away, leading Tommy down the hall. "Glad you could make it, bossman. Come on in-- Ranboo made spaghetti!"

The susurration of socks against wooden floorboards stopped short. Tubbo glanced back to see Tommy frozen midstep, his expression twisted into something resembling horror.

"Spaghetti?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Ranboo. . . made spaghetti?"

"Yes, he did." Tubbo frowned. "Do you not like spaghetti?"

"I have trauma," Tommy whispered.

"Tr-trauma? Because of spaghetti?"

"Yes."

Tubbo nodded slowly. "Okay. I can go ask Ranboo to make something else?"

Tommy shuddered. "It'll have spaghetti in it. He puts it in everything. It becomes everything. Nothing he touches is safe."

"Ooookay," said Tubbo. "Why don't you sit down?"

"The house isn't safe," Tommy hissed. "Ranboo is in the kitchen, and thus everything is spaghetti. Our actions are arbitrary when we are nothing but pieces of processed wheat."

"Right," Tubbo sighed, grabbing Tommy by the shoulders and steering him into the living room. He attempted to push the taller teen onto the couch, but Tommy resisted.

"It's spaghetti," he insisted. "I won't touch the spaghetti."

"Tommy, it's a couch. I built it myself. There isn't any spaghetti in there."

Tommy eyed the couch with suspicion, but when no anomalous pasta appeared, he allowed Tubbo to settle him onto it.

"Stay," Tubbo ordered, then headed down the hall to the kitchen. He knocked on the doorframe to announce his presence, but the sound was lost under the sizzling of oil.

Ranboo stood with his back to him, tail flicking happily as he stirred something in a pot. The rich aroma of spaghetti sauce hung heavy in the air. Tubbo took a moment to appreciate it, then cleared his throat and called, "Ranboo!"

Ranboo jumped, nearly dropping his spatula. He whipped around, revealing the eye-searingly neon "Make Eye Contact At Your Own Risk" apron Tubbo had gotten him as a gag gift for Christmas. Ranboo unironically loved it.

"Oh! Tubbo!" He hastily turned down the fire so the sauce wouldn't burn. "The sauce is almost done-- it's turning out better than I expected. Is Tommy here yet?"

Tubbo grimaced. "Yeah, about that. . . I don't think Tommy can eat spaghetti, Ranboo."

"What? Why not?"

"He's. . . scared of it?"

"He's scared of-- of spaghetti?"

"Apparently. Either way, it might not be the best thing to feed him."

"Oh." Ranboo's tail drooped. "Okay."

"You can store it for tomorrow," Tubbo suggested. "We can eat it ourselves."

The statement had the desired effect. Ranboo brightened up, already turning towards the shelves where the glass containers were stored. "Yeah! I'll put this away and start something else up. Go check on Tommy, make sure he's doing okay."

Tubbo returned to the living room to see that Tommy had migrated to the floor. He was in the middle of poking the couch with his sword when Tubbo cleared his throat.

Tommy jumped, which was quite an impressive feat given that he was currently sitting cross-legged. "FUCK! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," Tubbo lied. "What are you doing to my couch?"

Tommy made an attempt to hide his sword behind his back. ". . . Nothing?"

Tubbo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tommy."

"Tubbo," Tommy parroted, and tried to subtly slide his sword into his inventory. The flash of light that accompanied inventory use destroyed whatever subtlety the action had. "I wasn't! See?" He held up his empty hands.

Tubbo debated the merits of kicking his friend out of the house before he caused property damage. Fortunately for Tommy, Ranboo appeared before he could reach a conclusion.

"Tubbo?" The enderman hybrid poked his head into the room. "You said no spaghetti but I already cooked the noodles, so I chopped them up and made some, uh, innovative mac and cheese instead." He held out a steaming bowl, from which wafted a heavenly scent. "Do you want to try it--?"

The window shattered. Tubbo whipped around to see that Tommy had physically thrown himself over the couch and through the bay windows of the living room in a desperate attempt to escape Ranboo and his bowl of pasta.

Ranboo blinked at the shattered glass. ". . . Is my cooking that bad?"

"Your cooking is wonderful," Tubbo assured him. "I just think Tommy has some really bad trauma he needs to work through."

"I see," said Ranboo in a way that meant he did not see at all. "I. . . I guess I'll go make some soup then? Maybe he'll like that better?"

"You do that. I'll go drag him back inside before he freezes to death."

169. (credit to ori)

TW: Implied/Referenced Suicide

Ever since Tommy came back from exile, he'd been. . . odd.

When he stepped into a room, the air would cool a few degrees. His voice sounded off, hollow and layered with a slight echo. At night, his skin seemed almost luminescent. He avoided physical contact like the plague. Mobs avoided him like the plague. His movements were quiet as death - he'd accidentally scared several people when he'd come up behind them without announcing his presence.

Tubbo tried to brush it off. Surely it was just a side effect of not seeing Tommy for so long, or a trick of the light, or his guilt-ridden imagination. Exile changed people. Besides, Tommy would tell him if something was wrong - so Tubbo never brought it up.

Later, he'd wish he had.

~~~

There was a body in the lake.

Philza squinted at it through the ice. It was mostly hidden from view, partially covered by boulders, and with the low lighting and the depth of the water, he couldn't tell who it was. Maybe a villager? But the nearest village was miles away, and what scraps of clothing Philza could see didn't resemble villager robes.

He crouched lower by the edge of the lake. Daylight was fading fast; if he wanted to retrieve it, he'd have to hurry.

Group Chat: Sic Semper Tyrannis

<Ph1lza> I found a body

<Ranboo> who?

<Technoblade> where?

<Ph1lza> no idea

<Ph1lza> a lake, bout 1 km from the house

<Ranboo> has anyone died recently?

<Technoblade> not that I know of

<Technoblade> Phil? Niki?

<Nihachu> I don't think so

<Nihachu> maybe its a villager?

<Ph1lza> maybe, but unlikely

<Ph1lza> im going to try to fish it out

<Technoblade> Don't drown

<Ph1lza> thanks for the confidence

He snapped the communicator shut and shoved it into his haori pocket before shedding the article of clothing and dropping it into the snow. He shivered as he placed his hat on top of it and kicked off his sandals. Trudging back to the edge of the lake, he removed a pickaxe from his inventory and broke a hole in the ice. Fixing his eyes on the body, he dove in, biting back a grunt when the icy water engulfed him. He swam down as quickly as he could, forced to shut his eyes against the freezing liquid, and grinned in victory when his fingers brushed the soft silt floor of the lake. He fumbled around, grasping blindly for the body.

His fingers closed around something. He pulled, and the telltale click of bone against bone, muffled by the water, echoed in his ears. He pushed off the lake bottom with his feet, kicking back towards the surface.

His hands met ice. He nearly panicked, then remembered his pickaxe and broke through. He heaved himself onto the solid ice with a gasp, pausing for a moment to regain his breath before heaving the body out as well. Shaking his head, he dropped it and wiped at his eyes with his sleeves, a fruitless endeavor since his sleeves were soaking wet as well. He wiped his hands against the snow in an attempt to rid himself of any residue from the body.

With that done, he struggled to his feet and trudged back to shore. He wrung the water from his clothes as best as he could before slipping his dry haori back on. When he could stall no longer, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around.

The body laid sprawled in an undignified position across the ice, one hand half-laying in the water. Parts of it were nothing more than bone, flesh eaten away by rot and the inhabitants of the lake. Its clothes were nothing more than faded rags. The cold air did nothing to hide the stench rising from it.

One identifying feature remained: something around its neck, hidden by the rest of the body.

Philza carefully slid back onto the ice, using his pickaxe to drag the body towards him. He grabbed it once it was close enough and flipped it over onto the snow. The thing around its neck clinked against bone. He crouched closer to inspect it.

It was a thin metal chain, rusted and somewhat eroded, with no gleaming that indicated enchantments of any kind. It was circular, looped around the neck of the corpse-- a necklace, so probably not the cause of death. A compass hung from the end, its glass surface cracked and battered. The needle, however, was pointing insistently in one direction. He cautiously picked it up and turned it over in his hands.

Your Tubbo was engraved in the back of the compass. An engraving Philza had seen many times before - on the compass around Tommy's neck.

He stared at it for a long moment, unbelieving, then dropped the compass like it had burned him. His fingers were shaking from more than the cold as he fumbled with his coat, withdrawing the communicator.

World Chat

<Ph1lza> TOMYM

<Ph1lza> HAS ANYONE SEEN TOMMY

<Technoblade> what happened

<Dream> I talked with him like an hour ago. is he ok?

<Ph1lza> WHERE IS HE RIGHT NOW

<Ph1lza> TOMMY

<Dream> what happened???

<Ph1lza> THE BODY

<Ph1lza> IT HAS TOMMY'S COMPASS

<Tubbo_> bdoy?

<Ranboo> Phil found a body

<Tubbo_> ah

<Ph1lza> the body has tommy's ompass

<Tubbo_> no tomny has his com

<Tubbo_> HAS ANYONESEEN TOMMY

<Awesamdude> I saw him five minutes ago at the hotel

<Awesamdude> he was okay

<Ph1lza> Tommy please say something

<Tubbo_> @TommyInnit where are you???

~~~

"Shiiiiiiiit," Tommy hissed, watching as Tubbo and Philza had simultaneous meltdowns in the world chat.

He'd made a bet with Dream at the end of the last loop - whoever's death was discovered first this loop would owe the winner an item of their choice. When Tommy found himself trudging through the tundra in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, he'd decided to take advantage of his very human-unfriendly surroundings. So he went ghost, kicked his body into the convenient lake nearby, and went off on his merry way to L'Manberg.

See, ghosts were nothing more than globs of ectoplasm shaped to reflect the self-image of the soul fragment they contained. All Tommy had to do was to see himself as still alive, and voila - he had the appearance of being alive. It wasn't perfect, of course - he was a bit glow-in-the-dark, and rather cold to the touch, and also incapable of imitating a heartbeat or normal bodily functions - but it had been enough to fool everyone.

Except then Philza Minecraft decided to go ice fishing. And now Tommy's charade was dangerously close to discovery.

He could play it off. Act confused, pretend he had no idea what was going on. Or he could run, except running would throw everyone else into a panic which in turn would make them investigate more which would increase the chances of his death being discovered. The third option was to tell the truth. Which was not an option at all, because Tommy was going to win that bet.

Pretending ignorance it was.

World Chat

<TommyInnit> huh?

<Tubbo_> TOMMY

<TommyInnit> wait what the fuck is hpapening

<TommyInnit> why tf do I have like 80 unread messages

<Tubbo_> TOMMY ARE YOUO KAY

<TommyInnit> im fine

<TommyInnit> whyre you all freaking out

<Technoblade> backread

<TommyInnit> oh

<TommyInnit> huh???

<TommyInnit> no I have my compass its right here

<TommyInnit> phil you sure it wasnt a mistake

<Ph1lza> it has "your tubbo" carved in it

<TommyInnit> what the fuck man

<Ph1lza> dont ask me

<Tubbo_> tommy where are you

<Tubbo_> tommy

<TommyInnit> near the hotel

<TommyInnit> chill the fuck out clingbo i'm fine

<Awesamdude> where?

<TommyInnit> under the path

<TommyInnit> holdon

<Awesamdude> he's here

<Awesamdude> he's okay

<Tubbo_> oh thank prime

<Tubbo_> i'm coming over.

<Ph1lza> what do I do with this body

<Awesamdude> keep it

<Awesamdude> we need to examine it later

<Ph1lza> where do I keep it???

<Technoblade> your house

<Ph1lza> techno

<Ph1lza> I can't just dump this on the floor

<Technoblade> why not

<Ph1lza> I

<Ph1lza> I have no words

<Awesamdude> leave it where you found it

<Awesamdude> send the coordinates. I'll go over with Tommy to look at it tomorrow

<Tubbo_> I'll go with you!

<TommyInnit> do I have to go

<TommyInnit> the tundra is fucking cold

<Awesamdude> either go or give me the compass

<Awesamdude> why are you using your comm? were standing right next to each other

<Ph1lza> I'm leaving it here. going home my clothes are freezing

Private Messaging: Technoblade

<Technoblade> Tommy

<TommyInnit> what, bitch

<Technoblade> how did you know the body was in a tundra?

<TommyInnit> my amazing powers of deduction

<Technoblade> oh?

<TommyInnit> phil literlaly lives there

<Technoblade> huh

<Technoblade> not gonna lie, I'm not totally sold on that explanation

<TommyInnit> fuck yuo techno

<Technoblade> eloquent as ever, I see

Private Messaging: Dream

<Dream> hahahahahahaahahaha

<TommyInnit> shut the fuck up bitch

<Dream> sorry I can'thear u over the sound of me winning

<TommyInnit> your reading a fukin message

<Dream> sorry i can't see ur messages through the sight ur blinding stupidity

<TommyInnit> FUCK YOU

<Dream> :)

<TommyInnit> I HAVENT LOST YET

<Dream> but ur very veeeery close

<TommyInnit> dream

<TommyInnit> i will careve out your insides wit a rusty spork

<TommyInnit> do not test me

<Dream> 1. I dont have insides

<Dream> 2. you can't murder the dead, ghost boy

<TommyInnit> watch me.

~~~

"It really is an exact replica," Sam muttered, turning the two compasses over in his hands. "Down to the cracks and everything, except Tommy's isn't rusted."

In the end, Tommy had gone with Sam. He wasn't exactly sure how ghost biology worked, but when he'd died, everything had sort of become. . . a part of him. He no longer needed to wash his clothes or mend his shoes; all damage would disappear within an hour or so. He'd torn the hem of his shirt once out of curiosity, and the torn piece of cloth had dissolved into nothing when he'd thrown it away.

It was due to this that he didn't want to part with the compass. It wasn't the original compass, more like a ghostly replica, but it functioned the same as the real one. Problem was, if he handed the compass to someone else, would it just dissolve?

So instead of handing it over, he had gone with Sam. And now he kinda regretted it, because his own corpse was just plain freaky. The rot made it unrecognizable, but he still got goosebumps every time he looked at it.

"Tommy? You okay?" Tubbo shuffled next to him, alternating between staring at the corpse and staring at Tommy.

"Yeah," Tommy muttered. "Just. . . creeped out."

"Tubbo, come here for a second," Sam called. Tubbo hurried to the hybrid's side. "Do you have your compass?"

"Y-yeah," Tubbo said, pulling the compass out of his inventory and handing it over. "Here."

Sam took it, turning it over in his hands. Tubbo shuffled back, face twisting.

"Prime, it smells," he muttered to Tommy, pressing a sleeve to his nose. Tommy pushed down the urge to snap 'excuse you'. That would have raised questions he didn't want to answer.

Sam stood from where he'd crouched over the corpse, turning towards the two boys. His gaze remained fixed on the compass. "It's just spinning," he called.

Tubbo shrugged. "It's been broken for a while," he called back. "I don't know why."

Slowly, Sam looked up. Tommy felt a chill race down his spine.

"Tubbo," the creeper hybrid said calmly, "Compasses spin when their enchantments break. Compass enchantments break when the thing they're keyed to gets broken. Or, in the case of living people, dies."

Tubbo spun, staring at Tommy. Tommy let out a nervous laugh and casually began backing away. "Haha, uh, weird. Must be malfunctioning."

"Tommy," said Sam, still terribly calm. "Could you give me your wrist?"

"Mmm. . . no."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

Sam lunged forward. Tommy backpedaled, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Sam's fingers closed around his wrist-- and then sunk through it.

The three of them froze in a perfect tableau of shock. Four seconds ticked by before Tommy shifted and let out a nervous laugh.

"Okay, so maybe I'm a bit dead. But it's-- it's fine! I still have all my memories and everything--"

Sam staggered back, face ashen. "When?" he choked out. "When did-- when did you--"

"Um. Exile? I ran away from Logstedshire and spent a little too long in the tundra-- oh shit Tubbo wait no don't cry it's not that bad Tubbo nooo--"

~~~

Tommy scowled at the wall as though it had personally offended him. It was a very nice wall, all things considered - light blue, with a painting of a flower hanging on it. Unfortunately, what the wall represented was much more irksome.

Tubbo and Sam, after absolutely flipping out about Tommy's less-than-alive status, had insisted that he stay at Sam's house for the time being because he "couldn't take care of himself". Thing was, Tommy was a ghost, and thus had no need to "take care of himself". Unfortunately, his friends were still alive and couldn't understand that ghosts just didn't need to sleep. Or eat. Or attend therapy. Sure, he liked Puffy, but he was beyond help at this point. What did Tubbo and Sam even think Puffy could do? Therapize him back to life?

Dream rose through the floor, radiating smugness. "Imagine getting caught."

Tommy glared harder at the wall. "Fuck you."

"Wow, I've never heard that one before. Creative."

"Fuck you."

Dream cackled. "Should've burned the body."

"I was in the middle of the tundra, how was I supposed to start a fire--"

"--then pick a better spot to die--"

"--I looped in when I was almost to Techno's, I wasn't gonna make it back to Logstedshire even if I tried--"

"--but you could have at least put some distance between you and the house! Just remember, you owe me a cat potion--"

"Oh fuck off--"

Their argument was interrupted when the door slammed open. Sam barged into the room, sword in hand. "Tommy, are you okay?! I heard shouting--"

He stopped short and stared at Dream. Dream, who was currently floating in the air, offered him an awkward wave. ". . . Surprise?"

Sam dropped his sword.

"Right," said Dream. He slowly began sinking into the floor. "I'll just. . . go now."

"N-no, wait," Sam stammered. "You're-- you're dead too?!"

"Ahaha. Long story." Only Dream's head was visible now. "Tommy, you explain to him. I'm not dealing with the consequences of my actions. Bye."

"Oi, don't make me clean up after you-- get back here, you fucker!"

170. (credit to ori)

TW: Buried Alive, Graphic Injury, Implied Death

"Hey. . . Tommy."

"What?"

"Bet you. . . you can't. . . outlive me."

Tommy turned his head, glaring at Dream through the darkness. "We're stuck in a f-fuckin' cave-in," he wheezed, "and you're betting on which one of u-us-- hck-- dies first."

Dream's right shoulder twitched in an imitation of a shrug. "Not making. . . it out of. . . of this. Might as. . . might as well."

Tommy's had to admit he had a point. Even if they could free themselves without bringing the rest of the rubble down on their heads, both of them were too injured to move. "F-fine," he hissed. "I bet a-- ah-- gapple."

"Coward's bet."

"Shut th-the fuck up," Tommy choked out. He was lying on his stomach with a heavy slab across his back, and every inhale sent fire streaking up his spine. "I'm not the one bleedin' out."

"Shut," Dream muttered. The lower half of his body was pretty much completely pulverized, and another boulder had him pinned by the left arm. "You're one. . . to talk, internal blee. . . ding."

"I said b-bleedin' out, not in."

Dream snorted, then let out a distinctly pained noise as he tried to move something he shouldn't have. "D-didn't know. . . there were caves. . . under L'Manberg," he rasped.

"There are c-caves under-- ow, shit-- under everyth-thing, idiot."

The two of them lapsed into silence for several minutes. Tommy was just about to check if Dream had died yet when the man spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

Tommy's incredulity was obvious even through the strain in his voice. "Th-the fuck? What for?"

"My fault. . . you're here."

"Listen, bastard, you c-couldn't ha-have known you were standing in a b-bad spot when W-Wil pressed the button. A-and I tr-tried to save your-- agh-- a-ass of my own fr-free will."

"Should have. . . let me fall."

"L-like hell. Stop being d-dumb." To accentuate his point, Tommy flicked a pebble in his direction.

Dream huffed out something that resembled a laugh. "Okay, child."

"Oh, fuck you."

They fell into silence once again, though this one was far more comfortable than the last. With some discomfort, Tommy managed to flip his head onto the other cheek. He traced the patterns in the stacked stones with his eyes, idly counting the seconds until the darkness claimed them as well. The distant sound of dogs barking reached his ears, and he frowned, heart sinking as he realized that the battle was still going on above them.

He turned his head back towards Dream. "H-hey, Dream."

"Mm?"

"D'you--" Tommy paused to spit blood to the side, "D'you think Techno's still gon-na use the withers?"

Dream hummed a vague non-answer. Tommy glowered at him.

"Oi. You're n-not falling asleep o-on me, are you?"

"No," Dream slurred. In the dim light, Tommy saw him shake his head as though he was trying to stay awake. "With. . . withers. . . I hope not."

Just as the words left his lips, a muffled screech reverberated through the debris - followed by a chain of explosions. The rubble around them trembled, and Tommy could only curse as stones began sliding loose.

Dream let out something between a sob and a moan of despair. "Oh no no no no--"

With a terrible, grinding roar, the rubble shifted. Tommy cried out as pebbles rained down on him, leaving bruises along his shoulder blades and the back of his head. The slab across his back slid forward, pressing deeper, and something cracked.

Tommy couldn't quite hold back a scream. White starbursts flashed in his vision as blood filled his mouth, and he clawed senselessly at the ground in a futile attempt to relieve the pain. By the time the roar in his ears had subsided, he'd managed to wrangle his howls into strangled, intermittent gasps.

The rumble of shifting rock subsided. In the resounding silence, Tommy peeled open his eyes and took stock of the situation. It was even darker now, any remaining light from the surface completely smothered by the stone. The slab that had been putting pressure on his spine had now entirely crushed it, taking a good chunk of his internal organs with it. He wasn't going to be alive for much longer.

Still, he forced himself to turn his head. The space where Dream was lying had been completely buried. Only his right hand was still visible, a pale shape poking out from beneath the rubble.

"Dream. . .?"

Silence was his only answer. Tommy choked out a laugh, reaching out and letting his own hand fall inches away from Dream's. His eyes slid shut as numbing agony radiated up his spine.

"Ha. . . I win, bas. . . tard."

Loop Notes
166. Originally, Dream and Tommy had gone on a vacation to see if things would be more peaceful without them. They made the mistake of telling the others they'd be on vacation. Jack and Niki, who were not in the joke, did not have a good time.
167. Tommy had a lot of fun making the tiny wedding outfit for the cactus. There was also a cactus hostage plot at some point in the drafting stage of this loop, but it got scrapped because it got too far past the line of "reasonable levels of crack".
168. Thankfully, the soup did not have spaghetti in it.
170. Dream, having lost two lives earlier in the timeline, did not respawn. His and Tommy's corpses were later discovered during the rebuilding process. By that time, Dreaxter and Toast were already several miles away, trying their hand at another cottagecore arc.
And yes, Toast did get his gapple.