36. (inspired by Avendrial)

"What the fuck," Tommy deadpanned.

Dream shrugged. "It ups my intimidation factor."

"What the fuck. That's-- no. They're so thick what the fuck--"

"Deal with it."

~~~

"Dream, have you-- ohhhhhkay. I'm just gonna--" Sapnap looked away for a moment and took a deep breath.

Dream crossed his arms. "What? What's wrong?"

"You--" Sapnap gestured, still not looking directly at him. "You have eyebrows. Okay. That's. Okay."

"Sapnap," Dream said slowly, "I've always had eyebrows."

"Not you, your-- your mask." Sapnap grimaced and chanced a glance, then cringed and looked away again. "Yeah, no-- I can't look at them. Are they-- are they fuzzy?"

"Yeah, and stick-on. I got them at a crafts store."

Sapnap let out a hissing sigh. "I-- okay. Please. Please take them off. I can't-- I can't look at you when you have them on."

"They're not that bad," Dream muttered.

"Yes, yes they really are."

~~~

George took one look at him, screamed, and threw his half-finished sandwich at Dream's face. Then he turned tail and booked it.

Dream stared after him, the sandwich sliding down his mask. "Seriously, they're not that bad!"

~~~

"What are you-- are you praying?"

Fundy didn't appear to hear him, hands clasped in prayer as a deluge of Hail Primes spilled past his lips. His eyes were squeezed shut like he was trying to block out a nightmare.

"I'm telling you," Tommy deadpanned. "The brows don't work. Just. Please. Remove them."

". . . I can't," Dream admitted. "I superglued them to my mask because they kept falling off."

Tommy's head snapped towards him. "You-- why the fuck didn't you just use regular glue?"

"Couldn't find any."

37. (credit to akailana)

"We're taking a break this loop."

Tommy squinted at him from across the room. "What, we're just gonna stay in the cell?"

"No, we're running away."

A pause. "Uh. To where?"

Dream shrugged. "Anywhere away from civilization," he said. "We can start a cottagecore arc or something."

A pause. "Cottagecore arc?"

"You know, where people--"

"I know what cottagecore is, Dream, I don't live under a rock."

Dream glanced at the obsidian over their head. "Well, technically--"

"I don't live here, you homeless bastard." Tommy paused. "Oh wait, you're not homeless anymore, are you? You got a nice house made of blackstone--"

Dream rolled his eyes. "Anyways, I was thinking we could build a nice little place away from everyone else and just relax. Thoughts?"

Tommy shrugged. "Sounds good, big man. Been needing a break anyway. How hard can cottagecore shit be?"

~~~

"DREAM, THE CHICKEN COOP'S ON FIRE!"

"AGAIN?! I'VE ALREADY PUT IT OUT THREE TIMES IN THE PAST HOUR! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH IT?!"

"I'M TRYING TO BUILD A NETHER PORTAL--"

"THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE OUR COTTAGECORE ARC, TOMMY. WE'RE NOT GOING TO THE NETHER."

"BUT DREAM--"

"NO. PUT THE FLINT AND STEEL DOWN, TOMMY--"

"OH FUCK THE CHICKENS ARE ON FIRE!"

"TOMMY!"

~~~

"Um. This isn't. Ideal."

"It's fucking pathetic, that's what it is."

Dream poked one of the wilted sprouts with his foot. "Looks like we'll have to raid the village again. Hope they've managed to regrow some of their food by now."

"I'm telling you," Tommy muttered, "Jeremy's gonna be the death of us."

"Jeremy?"

"That one villager we stole from like a week ago. Y'know, the one that never stops glaring at us?"

Dream paused. "Why would you name him Jeremy?"

Tommy scoffed. "It's a pog name. And I'm not getting killed by a nameless villager."

"I'd rather not get killed by a villager at all."

~~~

Tommy stared at the pathetic excuse of a sweater in Dream's hands and promptly burst into laughter.

Dream threw the sweater at his head. It missed, got caught on an uneven brick in the wall, and unraveled into a clump of yarn. "Shut up!"

"You can make netherite armor," Tommy wheezed, "but you can't knit a fucking sweater?"

"Like you can do any better," Dream shot back. "I would also like to remind you that I'm holding two very sharp knitting needles."

Tommy abruptly stopped laughing.

~~~

"Please for the love of Prime just throw me back into the Vault. Or kill me. Either one is preferable at this point."

Sapnap narrowed his eyes at him, tightening his grip on the sword leveled at Dream's face. "Why?"

Dream stared at him. His hair was a rat's nest and his clothes were tattered and singed at the edges. Dark bags hung under his eyes. His face was backlit with firelight from the burning house behind him. ". . . This disaster of a cottagecore arc convinced me that freedom isn't worth it."

"Hey Dream, I found a watermelon!" Sapnap's head snapped towards Tommy, who was stumbling barefoot out of the woods, a watermelon in his arms. He stopped when he caught sight of the cottage. "Why the hell is the house on fire?!"

"I tried to bake muffins," Dream said, in the most defeated voice possible. "I did not know that flour exploded when in contact with fire."

Tommy eyed the bonfire for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, shit was ugly anyways. Told you we should've used more cobblestone."

Dream put his head in his hands.

38. the adventures of dreaxter, pt. 4 

"Niki!"

Niki Nihachu stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn around. "Tommy," she greeted stiffly.

"Hey, Niki," Tommy said. He paused for a moment. "Uh. . . how you doin'?"

"Good," the woman replied shortly. She turned around to look at him. "Why are you talking to me, Tommy?"

Tommy looked taken aback. "Uh. . . I guess, I guess I wanted to ask you something?"

A long moment of silence. "Well?" Niki asked. She wouldn't have been this short with him normally, but her failed attempt on his life had been weighing on her for a while now. "What is it?"

Tommy grimaced. "Uh, Dreaxter!"

A glowing ghost popped his head out from behind a building. "Hi," he said.

Niki stared at him. "Dream?"

"No, I'm Dreaxter," Dream corrected. "You're Niki, right?"

"I-- yes," Niki confirmed, still staring at him. "You're a ghost. How did-- how did you die?"

Dreaxter shrugged. "Don't remember. Sapnap's trying to figure it out."

"Anyways," Tommy cut in, "Dream-- sorry, Dreaxter-- wanted to meet you."

"You bake, right?" Dreaxter asked cheerily.

Niki bit her lip. "I. . . I haven't baked in a while. . ."

Dreaxter shrugged. "But you used to?"

"Yes?"

The ghost shuffled his nonexistent feet. ". . . could you teach me?"

Niki blinked. "Why?"

"It's a. . . personal mission, I guess," Dreaxter explained. " I don't really remember what happened, but I heard that Dream was a--"

"Bitch," Tommy chirped.

"--bad person," Dreaxter continued without missing a beat. "He hurt a lot of people, and, um, I guess I wanted to make up for it? And, and people like gifts, right? I think if. . . I know cupcakes won't make up for what Dream did, but. . ."

Niki hesitated, gaze darting between Tommy and the ghost. "I. . ."

"Please?" Dreaxter drifted closer. "I really wanna learn!"

"Laying it on a bit thick there, big man," Tommy muttered. He pulled his communicator out of his pocket and checked the time. "Oh shit, gotta go. I promised Tubbo I'd do this thing for him."

It was a complete lie - he hadn't talked to Tubbo in two days now - but he'd discovered a few hundred loops prior that Nikki didn't exactly have a positive opinion of him at the moment. She'd probably be more amenable to teaching Dream if Tommy wasn't hovering behind him. That being said, Dream had wanted to try baking for several loops now. Problem was, the only person on the server that could bake something decent was Niki, and during most loops he never got a chance to ask her. Sometimes, he couldn't get into Manburg; sometimes, he was a criminal on the run; sometimes, Niki hated his guts.

Now, though, Manburg was gone. He was a ghost; the server wouldn't try to throw him back into prison, and Niki would believe she had no real reason to hate him. Being dead also gave him a plausible explanation for an action that would have been viewed with suspicion had he still been alive.

Niki stared at him. Dream kept an earnest expression on his face, which wasn't very difficult considering that he genuinely wanted to learn.

It paid off. ". . . Alright," Niki acquiesced at last, turning away. "I'll just. . . we can use my kitchen, I suppose. Just give me a moment to gather my supplies."

"Yes!" Dreaxter cheered, doing a flip midair. "Thank you!"

~~~

"Careful," Niki warned. Dreaxter narrowed his eyes, struggling to pour the vanilla extract into the spoon. His focus slipped for a moment and his hands became halfway incorporeal, the extract splashing onto the floor.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine," Niki assured. "Making messes is a part of the baking process. Did you get it?"

"Yeah." Dream held up the teaspoon of vanilla extract. "Do I just. . . pour it in?"

"You got it."

Dream tipped the vanilla extract into the bowl. "Okay, now what?"

"Well, now you have to mix it. . ."

~~~

"Um," Dreaxter said, staring at the sink. "I-- I can't wash my hands. The water makes them melt."

Niki paused, then grabbed a towel off a nearby rack and handed it to him. "Wipe your hands with this."

Dream obediently cleaned his hands with the towel. It got most of the cocoa powder and flour off. The vegetable oil, however, remained. The ghost stared at his hands for a long moment, then frowned and flexed his fingers. The oily sheen appeared to collapse in on itself as he went incorporeal, any substance on his ectoplasmic skin falling through him.

Niki stared at him for a long moment. "That's. . . one way of doing it, I guess. Does it clean the germs off too?"

"I think so," Dream replied truthfully. Niki offered him a small smile.

"Then it works. Come on, let's put these in the oven."

~~~

"Okay, now that they're baking, let's get started on the frosting."

"Frosting?"

"Frosting," Niki confirmed. "Could you go grab five eggs?"

"Okay!" Dreaxter stuck his hand through the chest lid, paused, withdrew it, and opened the chest like a normal human being. "Right, um, five eggs."

He toted the eggs back over to Niki, carefully setting them down on a table. "Now what?"

"Now, we separate the yolk and the white."

"Okay," Dreaxter said. "How?"

Niki took an egg and demonstrated. Dream took an egg and tried to copy her. It broke on the kitchen floor. A chicken sprung up, squawked at them, and promptly began pecking at Niki's ankles.

Dream sighed.

~~~

"Squeeze it carefully-- yes, exactly like that, you're doing great! Okay, now turn the base-- gently, gently--"

Dreaxter raised the piping bag and looked at the lopsided dollop of frosting on his cupcake. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Practice makes perfect," Niki replied, setting her own perfectly-frosted cupcake aside. The chicken, which had been named Marshmallow, clucked from inside her cage and tried to peck at the pastry. "And you're doing really good for your first time!"

Dreaxter beamed at her. Niki smiled back, then turned to the rest of the unfrosted cupcakes.

"Let's frost the rest of these. I'll do half, and you'll do half?"

"Okay!"

~~~

"Do you want to add anything on top?"

"On top?"

"On top of the frosting." Niki gestured to the array of jars sitting on the table. "I have chocolate chips, rainbow sprinkles, edible glitter. . ."

Dreaxter's head snapped towards her. "Edible glitter?"

Niki giggled and slid a jar of silver glitter towards him. "Edible glitter," she confirmed.

Dreaxter smiled.

~~~

"I'm really sorry about the mess," Dreaxter apologized again as he dumped the dirty towel into the sink. Marshmallow, who had been moved into a pen in the corner, was now happily pecking away at some seeds. She looked up as Dreaxter passed by.

Niki waved him off. "Really, it's fine! I nearly set my kitchen on fire the first time I tried baking. Besides, you helped me clean up."

Dreaxter nodded hesitantly, then turned to the cupcakes. They sat on the counter in individual plastic boxes, ready to be delivered.

"Thank you for teaching me," he said. "I know you probably don't like Dream, but you did this anyway."

"I don't like Dream, but. . . you're not him," Niki admitted quietly. "And honestly, I haven't had that much fun in a while. So thank you as well."

Dream beamed, then shuffled over to the counter and selected one of the prettier cupcakes he had frosted. Unlike the rest, it only had a light dusting of edible glitter on top. "Here," he chirped, turning back to her and holding it out. "This one's for you."

Niki laughed. "What, as a 'sorry Dream was mean to you' cupcake?"

"As a 'thank you for being my friend' cupcake," Dreaxter replied firmly.

Niki paused. "Friend?"

Dreaxter shrugged. "Friend, baking buddy. . ."

Niki giggled. "Baking buddy?"

"Yeah, we can be baking buddies! I wanna do this again sometime," the ghost admitted. "If. . . if that's okay."

Niki's giggling softened into a smile. She dipped her head. "Of course. If you ever want to bake with me, just come find me, okay?"

"Okay!"

~~~

"Tommy, I made you a cupcake!"

Tommy turned around and caught the projectile hurtling towards his face out of reflex. He stared down at the plastic box, and the abomination inside of it.

Dream had dumped a frankly obscene amount of edible glitter into the frosting. The cupcake was less cake and more sugar. Tommy stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at Dream. ". . . Thanks, big man."

"You're welcome!" Dream chirped. "Don't worry, the glitter's edible."

Tommy's eyes widened. "It's edible? Dream--"

"I know," the ghost replied, a vicious grin spreading across his face. "Time to think up some new pranks. We've got a casino owner to troll."

39. toddler tales, pt. 1

"You," Dream said flatly, "are not allowed near a brewing stand ever again."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that it'd do this?!" Tommy protested, chubby cheeks puffing with irritation. He waved his arm, effectively slapping Dream in the face with his now oversized sleeve. Dream scowled and tried to waddle forwards, only to discover that walking in shoes ten sizes too big was Very Difficult.

"This is all your fault," he huffed instead. "For the record, throwing half-finished splash potions at people--"

"You startled me!"

"--isn't a good defense reflex. And learn better observational skills, Tommy."

"Shut up, you--"

The door opened. Dream and Tommy turned to see Technoblade staring down at them.

"Oh shit," Tommy said.

Dream did the only thing he could think of. "Woah, mister!" he chirped. "Your hair is pretty!"

Technoblade stepped back out and shut the door.

"Rude."

~~~

"Okay," Technoblade hissed to himself. "Okay. There are two small children in my house. The small children are mortal enemies who probably have no idea who anybody on this server is. This is fine. I definitely have experience takin' care of small children-- shut up, Chat."

He took a deep, fortifying breath. He could do this. He could. He was Technoblade, a man feared for his battle prowess and terrifying determination. Once he set his mind to anything, he would do it-- come hell or high water.

He opened the door again, and was promptly attacked by a toddler wielding a stick.

Technoblade's first instinct was to kick said toddler away. Unfortunately, he could imagine the consequences of such an action, and thus wasted precious time restraining himself from carrying it out. Consequently, the toddler got him in the knees. He crumpled to the floor, where the other toddler began beating him over the head with his tiny fists.

Okay. This was fine. The mighty Blood God felled by two children.

L, said Chat. Technoblade decided that Chat could shut up.

Reaching up, he grabbed Dream's wrists, trying to save his skull from more battering. Then he straightened and gently pushed Tommy away, reaching out and snatching the stick from his grasp. Tommy screeched like an offended pelican and went for his throat.

"No," Technoblade said.

"I DON'T LISTEN TO KIDNAPPERS!" Tommy screamed, having discovered that Technoblade's throat was too high to reach. He settled for punching Technoblade in the stomach instead.

BabyInnit used punch! Chat sang. It was super effective!

Technoblade could feel a headache building. "No," he repeated, this time to both the toddlers and his Chat.

"Leggo!" Dream screeched, kicking Technoblade in the shin. "Leggo, you dirty kidnapper!"

"I'm not a kidnapper," Technoblade protested, releasing his grip on Dream's wrists. The toddler immediately began to batter his leg. "I didn't kidnap you."

"Liar!" Tommy shouted. "Where's Wilby?! I want Wilby!"

"Look, Tommy, Dream--"

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!"

The headache was reaching migraine levels. "Listen, the two of you are in the future."

That shut them up. "The future?" Dream whispered, fist drawn back to punch Technoblade in the leg again.

"The future," Technoblade confirmed.

"You're lying," Tommy accused. "That sounds like something a kidnapper would say."

In what universe would a kidnapper come up with something as ridiculous as 'you're in the future'? Technoblade shelved that question for another time. "Look, there's gotta be some way to prove it to you."

Tommy stared at him for a long moment. Then: "Where's Tubbo?"

"What?"

Tommy scowled. "If we're in the future, then Tubbo'll be all grown up," he said. "I wanna see Tubbo."

"I wanna see Sapnap!" Dream piped. "Is he here?"

Oh. Oh no.

"Uh," Technoblade said, sweating nervously. "Tubbo and Sapnap are. . . very far away from here. It'll take a while to get them."

Both children crossed their arms. "I can wait," they chorused in unison.

This was a very bad idea. "That's. . . uh. . . Tommy, Dream. . . they. . .Tubbo and Sapnap aren't, um, friends with you anymore."

There was a moment of silence. And then: "What?"

Tommy's lower lip began to tremble, eyes growing watery. Next to him, Dream scowled, looking ready to throw a tantrum. Technoblade hastily backpedaled. "Uh, I, I mean, of course you can meet them! I'm sure they'll be really happy to see you because you're definitely still friends-- please for the love of Prime don't cry."

Tommy's tears receded into his head so quickly that Technoblade nearly got whiplash. "YES!" he whooped, hopping victoriously only to trip over the hem of his oversized shirt-- which was basically a dress on him. Technoblade caught him before he could faceplant.

". . . Why don't we get you some fittin' clothes first?"

40. (inspired by Multi_fandom_dump)

"Dream has sent us a declaration of war," Wilbur said solemnly. He raised the book. "Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

"A declaration of war? " Fundy demanded. In answer, Wilbur just turned the book so the fox hybrid could see the cover. Declaration of War was stamped into the leather surface with fancy gold script.

Tubbo let out a nervous laugh. "Wow. He's. . . really not happy that we're doing this."

"'Really not happy' is an understatement," Eret said dryly.

Wilbur squared his shoulders. Everyone tensed as he opened the book-- and was promptly shot in the face with silly string.

Silence descended in the camarvan. Wilbur slowly reached up and wiped some silly string off his cheek.

"To the nation of L'Manberg," he read aloud, "We understand your demand for independence. However, you have not proved yourself worthy of it. As such, we require you to prove yourself: hold your own against us for a month's time, and we will grant you freedom." He paused, scanning the next line. ". . . On this day we declare: let the prank war commence. The only rule is that neither side may harm or kill the other. Signed: Punz, Sapnap, George, and Dream."

Tubbo blinked slowly. "They're-- they're declaring a prank war on us. They attacked Wilbur with silly string. What the fuck."

Tommy broke out into evil cackling. "Oh, they're going down."

"Wait, wait, wait--" Fundy protested, "We're not-- are we seriously going along with them?"

"I don't see why not," Wilbur said, shutting the book and picking some silly string from his hair. His smile was just a tad vicious. "You like pranks right, Fundy?"

Fundy looked conflicted. "Well I-- yeah, but. . ."

"You're just mad that they got you first," Tommy deadpanned. Wilbur shrugged.

"Maybe," he admitted, "but this seems fun. Why not give it a try?"

Tubbo glanced at Tommy. "I'm on board," he said.

"Definitely on board," Tommy declared. "Fuckers won't know what hit them."

Fundy hesitated, then shrugged. "Fuck it. Sure."

Eret shifted on his feet. "I have a couple of ideas," he offered. Wilbur grinned.

"Then we're in agreement. Gentlemen, prepare for war."

Loop Notes
36. The war for independence was paused because nobody, not even his friends, could look Dream in the face. Tommy rallied everyone on the server to hunt down Dream, steal his mask, and burn it. It was a rather hectic day.
37. Nobody said cottagecore arcs were easy.
40. Neither side really won, but L'Manburg successfully impressed Dream enough that he let them have their independence. Seriously, where had Eret gotten four hundred and twenty whoopee cushions?