16. adoption arc, pt. 1 (inspired by Trytokillmeorsomething123)

"What. . ." Tommy looked around. "Dream, what-- where are we? When are we?"

Dream turned to him, and Tommy did a double take. He looked young.

"We're. . ." Dream said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Tommy, Tommy-- we're before the Disc wars."

"The Disc--" Tommy stopped short. "Holy shit." He turned behind him to see Spawn. "Did I-- did I just join the server?"

"We're so early," Dream breathed.

They stood there in silence for a moment, simply taking in their surroundings. The SMP, back when it was still being built up, before the wars and betrayals and violence. They had a chance, here, a chance to have the life that could have been.

Dream sighed. "Well," he said quietly. "What do you want to do?"

"What are you gonna do?" Tommy challenged. "Because if you're gonna be an asshole this time around, I'll kill you."

Dream snorted. "I think I'll take the pacifist route, actually."

"Pacifist-- this isn't fucking Undertale!"

"Look me in the eye and tell me that I can't call loop zero neutral."

Tommy glared.

Dream grinned. "Thought so. Well then, I'll ask again. What do you want to do?"

". . . Will you invite Wilbur to the server?"

Dream looked thoughtful. "Yeah," he decided at last. "But not Schlatt. Schlatt's staying out."

Tommy scowled. "Right, fuck him. If you invite him, I'll stab him. And then I'll stab you."

"So I won't invite him," Dream said cheerily, clapping his hands together. "Well then. I'm off."

"Wait, wait, you never told me what you were gonna do!" Tommy protested.

Dream paused, then adjusted his mask and looked him dead in the eye. "I'm going to adopt all the minors," he said calmly. "All. The minors."

And then he was gone, disappearing before Tommy could even formulate a reply.

"Wait," Tommy spluttered to empty air. "Wait, am I a minor--"

17. lava, pt. 1

Tommy awoke sprawled on the ground. He remained perfectly still, taking in the hard dirt beneath his back and the scent of smoke and gunpowder. He was either back at the Sixteenth. . . or exile.

"Tommy?"

Exile, then. He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the bright sky. His vision was partially obscured by Dream, who was leaning over him, mask pushed to one side and face etched with concern.

"Hey," he croaked, pushing himself into a sitting position. There was a faint ringing in his ears. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and caught sight of the crater by his feet in the process.

Dream grimaced, offering him a hand. Tommy accepted it and let himself be pulled up, then dusted himself off before he turned to run an eye over Logstedshire.

It was still intact. Looks like the crater had been one of Dream's customary 'time-to-traumatize-Tommy' moments, not him blowing Logstedshire sky-high in a fit of rage.

"So," Dream said, shuffling awkwardly. He looked uncomfortable. Which was very understandable, because That Feeling When You Get Thrown Back In Time Into A Situation Where You Were A Massive Jerk and all that.

Dream usually deferred to Tommy when they woke up mid-exile, probably out of some sort of guilt, which meant it was up to Tommy to break the tension. And, well, he'd been wanting to do this for a while. He was standing about two feet away from a pile of logs, too. Perfect.

"The floor is lava!" He called, then hopped onto the logs, balancing precariously on the stack. "Five, four, three--"

Dream was already moving, automatically latching onto the wooden wall like a monkey and pulling himself up. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped, turning his head to stare down at Tommy.

"What," he deadpanned.

Tommy grinned. "Idea, big man. Loop zero, but anytime someone says 'the floor is lava', we gotta get off the floor in five seconds. First person to burn in lava loses."

Dream narrowed his eyes. "You're on."

18. cosplay competition, pt. 2 (credit to Mixy_ttwara)

"Dream?" George rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.

"George," Dream greeted, looking up from the sword he was sharpening. He was wearing a near-perfect copy of George's outfit, save for the fact that the clout goggles were somehow balanced precariously over his customary smiley mask.

"Dream, is that-- is that my shirt?" George stalked closer, grabbing the sleeve of Dream's blue tee and inspecting it. Dream jerked it away, clapping a protective hand over his arm.

"No," he lied. Okay, so maybe he had stolen one of George's shirts, and then tailored it to fit him. He had a cosplay competition to win, after all, and George had left his chests unlocked. Besides, the man had like twenty copies of the exact same shirt. He wouldn't miss one.

"Oh my Prime," George muttered. "It is, isn't it."

"No," Dream repeated, pasting an innocent expression on his face - not that George could see it. The left temple tip of his goggles, previously pinned in the strap of his mask, came loose. Dream hastily tucked it back in before the goggles fell.

George slowly brought his hands to his face. "You're wearing clout goggles," he said. "Over your mask."

"Yes," Dream said, like there was nothing wrong with that.

"You're dressed exactly like me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. This is how I usually dress."

"Dream."

"George."

"That's my shirt."

"It's my shirt."

"How did you get into my house?!"

"I didn't, because it's my shirt."

"You're a terrible liar."

"But I'm not lying."

"You--"

Sapnap walked into the room, took one look at the scene, and walked back out.

19. (credit to Purplewitchii)

"Okay," Tommy groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "So fixing everything didn't work."

"Your idea of 'fixing," Dream pointed out dryly. "And seeing as we're back at the Sixteenth, I'd say you're right. It didn't work. Which means we're trying my way next."

Tommy scowled at him. "Now wait one fucking minute--"

"No," Dream snapped, jabbing a finger at him. "We went through ten loops trying to get your 'happy ending', and while I'm all for the server not going down in flames, I want out of these fucking timeloops. We got a happy ending, and we ended up back here. So we're doing it my way."

Tommy crossed his arms. "And what's 'your way'? 'Cause if it involves killing anyone other than Schlatt, I'm not doing it."

Dream sighed. "We're gonna stick to loop zero."

Tommy stilled. "You mean--"

"It doesn't have to be the exact script, because Prime knows I've forgotten what I said, but as long as the events happen the same way--"

"It's not gonna work--"

"--you don't know that! If we stick to baseline, the anomaly might undo itself or whatever."

Tommy hesitated.

"Look," Dream muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not-- I'm not asking you to kill your friends or anything, okay? We're at the Sixteenth, so one of the. . . worst parts is over. Just-- play along. We both want out, and as much as I hate to say it, we need to work together to do that."

". . . Fine," Tommy snarled. "But if it doesn't work, we're not doing it again."

"We'll see," Dream said, and that was that.

"Shut the fuck up, Dream," Tommy snapped. He stalked closer, weighing the axe in his hand. "Why shouldn't I just kill you right now?"

Dream pressed against the wall, his gaze darting between Tommy and the hostile crowd. "I-I-- I can-- uh--"

Tommy stepped closer. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now, Dream. Tell me."

"I'm a bad bitch," the man blurted. "You can't kill me!"

There was a pause.

Then Tommy dropped the axe, doubling over with laughter. Dream groaned and pressed his face into his hands.

"Are you--" Tommy gasped. "Are you fuckin' serious you just--" he sank into another fit of laughter.

"I was panicking, okay," Dream muttered. "And it just came to mind so--"

"You-- you were going all-- 'stick to the script', and then you-- pfft--"

Dream's ears had gone red. "I was panicking!" he insisted. Tommy just wheezed, sinking to his knees as he ran out of oxygen.

"Script?" Tubbo asked uncertainly. "Tommy, what are you-- what are you talking about?"

Tommy just waved a hand, too out of breath to answer.

Dream sighed. "What I meant to say," he muttered, "is that I can bring people back to life."

"You can-- you can what?"

"Bring people back to life," Dream repeated with the air of someone who was a hundred and fifty percent done with life. "Schlatt gave me a book, I read it and now I can revive people, don't kill me or you'll never see Wilbur again, et cetera."

"You--" Tubbo began, eyes darting uncertainly from Tommy to Dream. "You can bring Wilbur back?"

"Yes," Dream enunciated. "And anybody else who dies later."

"Then. . . then we can't kill him," Tubbo muttered. "If there's a chance. . . but we can't just let him go, either. . ."

Silence descended. Several people in the crowd glanced uncertainly at each other.

Dream rolled his eyes, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. "Ugh," he grumbled, then pushed himself to his feet and stalked past Tommy, ignoring how several people in the crowd tensed or made as if to lunge forward. Instead, he walked right up to Sam and held out his wrists like he was expecting to be cuffed.

Sam shoved the tip of his sword under his chin. Dream let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Pandora's Vault is done, right?" he asked tiredly. "Can you lock me in there?"

Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Look," Dream muttered. "I know I'm not getting out of this, but if you leave me alive, I'll bring Wilbur back."

"What's the script you were talking about?" Sapnap asked.

Dream scowled. "Ask Tommy," he offered.

The teenager in question was recovering from his wheezing fit, slowly pushing himself to his feet. At Dream's words, he scowled. "Oi, bitch, don't throw me under the bus!"

"What's the script?" Sapnap repeated, eyes flinty. Sam's sword pressed harder against Dream's neck, enough to draw blood.

Dream let out a long, long sigh before looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Tommy and I are trapped in a timeloop and we're trying to get out of it by imitating the original timeline as much as possible, but then I threw it and then Tommy doubly threw it, so screw that I guess."

"Dream, what the fuck?" Tommy demanded.

"It's not like they'll believe me," Dream deadpanned, taking a step back when Sam's blade pressed forward. "See?"

"You're right," Sam said icily. "I don't believe you. What's the script?"

"It's unimportant," Dream half-truthed. "Look, we got a schedule to keep, you have places to be, so if we could just hurry up and get this over with--"

"Why the fuck are you so eager to get thrown in jail?" Sapnap demanded.

"Because jail is great," Dream said, dry as dust. "I love being trapped in a tiny room without air conditioning and eating raw potatoes every day."

Sam lowered his sword. "What is wrong with you?"

"Everything."

20.

Dream stared at the raccoon.

The raccoon stared back.

"How did you mess up a water breathing potion that badly?"

The raccoon hissed angrily and tried to swipe at him, only to trip over the fabric surrounding it and faceplant.

"No, seriously," Dream continued, unperturbed by the murder attempt. "Raccoons are a land animal. How?"

The raccoon that had been Tommy glared balefully, then proceeded to dig through the pile of clothing. He came up moments later with his communicator, and painstakingly began to type something out on it.

<TommyInnit> whispers to you: thrwre wras fir jn yhe cjest

Dream squinted. "I don't think I can understand that."

<TommyInnit> whispers to you: fuck yuo

<TommyInnit> whispers to you: ouy rtry typpoing wiuthoot oppwsbvle thymbs

"Amazing how the only thing you spelled right was 'fuck'."

Tommy chucked his communicator at Dream's head.

Loop Notes
16. Big brother Dream is on the move. Look forward to more on this loop in the coming chapters.
19. This occurs fairly early in the time loops, so Dream and Tommy aren't quite friends yet.
20. Pranking opportunities abound.