Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Mmm,” Charlie hummed, rummaging through the chests in his snowchester home, ignoring the way his fingertips pulse with power. “I’m sure.”

“No, I know it sounds crazy but-“ Tubbo was pacing throughout his home, turning on his heel right before crashing into a wall. He wrung his hands. “I-Dream hasn’t lied before-“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Charlie closed the chest, dropping the facade of pretending to do something important. “Seriously? Dream’s probably lied a bunch. I’ve never talked to the guy but like, I’ve lived here for about 3 months now. Almost 4. Word travels.” He glances at the floor, he really can’t keep this up for long if Tubbo keeps pushing. The man is persistent, he’ll give him that.

“Well, he hasn’t lied about stuff this big,” Tubbo’s talking picks up speed when Charlie tries interjecting, “I mean, why would he lie? There’s no—he gains nothing from lying about this. I can't believe he’s even acknowledging there’s someone on the server more powerful than him in the first place.”

Charlie turns back to his chests, pretending to organize them. He’s not particularly good at lying when he looks at someone and they can read his face. Unfortunately, he has many tells. Instead, he goes with the strat that completely ignores the God-talk. “Why were you visiting him in the prison again?”

“I just wanted to know what happened to Tommy.” Tubbo stops walking around for a bit, his thoughts seemingly slowing down. “I mean, he’s been revived but he’s not-he’s not Tommy. He’s changed. Ranboo agrees. Dream agrees.” Tubbo shivers.

“Yeah, and Dream brings up Godhood randomly? Awfully suspicious.”

“It had context-“ Tubbo starts and stops. He glances at the clock on the wall. “Mmm, sorry, I really need to get going. Ranboo and I are going on our first date,” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Aren’t you guys married? Shouldn’t you have gone on plenty of dates before?” Charlie jumps on the topic switch.

“Ranboo, my beloved,” Is all Tubbo replies before going to the door. “Thanks for indulging me, Slime. I know we don’t talk much, but it’s nice getting an outsider's perspective who doesn’t have a lot of tunnel vision like me and Tommy.” He thinks for a second, “And Ranboo. And everyone on this godforsaken server.” He turns to look at Charlie a final time. “Out of everyone on here, you’re pretty normal for someone who’s part slime.”

Charlie laughs for the pure amount of irony in that sentence, but Tubbo probably thinks he’s just laughing at the joke he made. “Yeah, I’m a gamer guy,” He says, and nods as Tubbo leaves.

Charlie knows he’ll have to visit Dream soon to find out what he knows. He’s not looking forward to it.

~*~

“This date is starting to seem a lot less like a date and more like a conspiracy theory convention,” Ranboo jokes. Tubbo glares at him.

He knows that he’s making a big deal out of some offhand comment Dream had made when he visited him, but it is a big deal. A God? On the server? He knew that Dream considered himself to be one of the immortal kind, despite only having one life, but that didn’t really count in terms of literal deities.

“But think about it! Think about what they could do for us--or against us,“ Tubbo stops for a second and stares at the strawberries split between the two of them. “They could be dangerous to the server. They could also be an extremely useful asset to the server. We just don’t know!”

“Tubbo,” Ranboo grabbed his shoulders. “I am being completely honest with you when I say that Dream was probably lying. It was a joke-“ Tubbo laughs at the idea that Dream could be capable of such a thing. “-or some weird comment he made before thinking about it. Think about this rationally. A God? On the server? Acting like a normal player? Doing menial tasks instead of- I don’t know- God duties?”

Tubbo sighed. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Charlie said the same thing.”

“Charlie knows what he’s talking about,” Ranboo says and takes a bite out of one of the strawberries Tubbo was twirling between his index finger and thumb, but then pauses, and laughs. “Hold on a second—since when do you go to Charlie out of all people to spew your random theories to?”

“Shut up,” Tubbo said, and shoved him. “He was the only one around,” Which is true. Out of all people, he didn’t really want to talk to the newbie of the server, but he couldn’t wait until his date to talk about it. Charlie was cool and all, but they weren’t the best of friends. Plus, he seemed generally disinterested in the topic. Who could be bored talking about the possibility of Gods, Tubbo wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. He got most of his rambling out of his system just so he could talk about the Cold Hard Facts with Ranboo. And the Cold Hard Facts were as follows: Dream was talking about how he was pretty much a God and mentioned how he wished he could meet the actual god just chilling on the server to shove it in his face. Thinking back on it now, it seemed like more of a rub in the face of the overruling deity, DreamXD, and Tubbo misinterpreted it.

“Well now that we got the theories out of our system, how about you give me a hug and we call it a night?”

“What? Already?”

Ranboo pointed to the sun setting on the horizon, “I’m pretty sure I don’t want our date to get infested with mobs.”

Tubbo pouted and sighed, “I didn’t even get a chance to talk about something other than my stupid theory!” He crossed his arms.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Ranboo paused, “I just think you blew it out of proportion.” Tubbo stares and him and Ranboo laughs, putting his hands up in mock defense. “I get the whole ‘holy crap there’s a literal God on the server’ type beat we got going on here, but you just need to check yourself when you think about it. May I reiterate the fact that a god would probably not just stroll around the Dream SMP without reason? Dream was probably just referring to DreamXD, who may or may not exist.”

Tubbo nods, slowly, and gets up. “Well, sorry for ruining our first date.” Ranboo opens his mouth and Tubbo plants his finger on his lips in a shushing motion. “But it will be better next time, I promise. Can you look after Michael tonight? I want to check on Tommy…” He trails off, knowing he doesn’t need to explain himself.

Ranboo stands as well, dusting off the grass that got on his pant legs. “Sure. Tell me how it goes with Tommy afterwards.”

They exchange farewells and Tubbo heads to Tommy’s dirt shack thing he had, picking up the pace. He didn’t want to get out his sword and have to battle mobs just to meet up with one of his best friends, and he also didn’t want to keep Tommy waiting. Not that Tommy knew he was coming, but it was more of a personal timeline. He knew Sam had been taking care of Tommy ever since he found out that Tommy had been revived even though the man seemed to be a bit miffed that he hadn’t taken him out of the prison sooner. Tubbo found it reasonable, which is why he stopped by lots to break up the constant this-man-didn’t-save-me-in-time mindframe.

He stopped in his tracks when he noticed a figure walking the path, which was very much normal, but it was obvious they were lost. “Hey!” He called and the figure turned to look at him. It was Slimecicle. Tubbo ran up to him, “What’s up?”

Charlie smiled, “I’m in a bit of a sticky situation here,” Tubbo cringed at the awful pun, “I was trying to find the--what was it?” He paused for a second. “I think it was the L’manburg museum. Yeah, I was trying to find that.”

Tubbo smiled, “Uh, sorry, but you’re going the complete opposite direction of it,” And Slime cringed. “Why’re you interested?”

Slime thought for a second, as if coming up with an excuse. “I wanna learn more about the history of it. Before the whole-” He made a blowing up gesture with his hands and a kaboom noise. “-thing. Like, uh, you know Jschlatt?”

This time Tubbo was the one to cringe. He could only remember the harsh punishments and anxiety ridden life of those days. “Yeah…” Tubbo started. He wondered why Charlie was interested. From his knowledge, the man had never met Schlatt. “I was actually on my way to Tommy’s, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, sure,” Charlie nodded. He scratched his chin. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to mind if I came with you, would’ya?”

Tubbo really didn’t want to let him come. It was one thing to have a friendly rant about the resident criminal, it was another to let a man he barely knew to a somewhat intimate moment between him and Tommy. But who was he to decline? “Uh, no. Come on.” He regretted it almost instantly.

They walked for a bit in silence, Tubbo silently watching the man toss a slime creature between his hands like a bouncy ball, until Charlie spoke. “What was Schlatt like?”

Tubbo shuddered, “Harsh.”

Charlie seems to ponder that for a second and then nods. “Yeah, that seems like him.”

Tubbo turned a questioning glance at the slimy man. “You knew him?”

“Oh yeah, he and I-” Slime cuts himself short. “He and I were uh, somewhat close. Like in a rivalry way. It was a super long time ago-I can barely remember.”

“Oh,” Tubbo didn’t know what to think of that. The pun man of the server knew and was close to one of the worst people to have ever graced Tubbo’s presence? “I’m sorry he’s gone now.” He wasn’t, not really. Schlatt had kind of deserved it in a twisted way, but who was he to decide if Charlie was allowed to mourn? Despite the two of them being total opposites, he wasn’t one to rain on their friendship parade.

Charlie shook his head, “Nah, it’s fine. Last time we ‘talked’-” Tubbo noted the air quotes. “-it was not in a friendly manner. I’m glad you guys don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

Tubbo nodded and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter Text

Tommy was stretched out completely on his bed, stomach facing the bed. He could hear footsteps approach him.

“You know that laying like that is bad for you, right?” Sam asks.

Tommy groans, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes, “Yes, Sam, yes I know. You’ve only told me 3 million times since coming over.”

Out of the corner of his vision he sees the way Sam looks at him--the sad way. It’s always the sad way. Well, he could take his puppy dog glances to Tubbo or something, he lost the privilege of being upset when he refused to let Tommy out of the prison--resulting in his death.

“Tommy-” Sam starts, but there’s a knocking on the shitty door Tommy had crafted in a minute. He was quite proud of the thing actually, but he did admit it was terrible at keeping out the cold air.

Tommy gets up to open the door before Sam can, and is surprised to see four-eyes standing there, along with Tubbo, of course.

“Hey Big T!” Tommy greets, waving them in. He eyes Slimecicle wearily before letting him in as well, but it was more out of precaution since he barely knew the guy. “So… what brings you to the coolest place on the server?”

“Is that what you’re calling it now?” Tubbo teases, and shoves him a bit. Tommy freezes, flashbacks of Dream’s fists pounding him fresh on his mind as if they had just happened. He shakes off the flashback quickly. He’s been getting better at that--ignoring the flashbacks, the feelings in general, honestly.

“You dare insinuate that my party palace is not the coolest place to exist?” Tommy jokes back, hoping Tubbo, Sam, and Charlie didn’t notice the way he had tensed before. Speaking of which, he turns his gaze to Charlie, just watching the interaction with a guarded look. “No offense big man, and by that I mean take full offense, but why are you here?”

Charlie laughs a bit, “I’m just here to check up on you. I uh, heard what happened. Sorry.” Tommy highly doubts that’s why he’s there. He’s had 3 weeks to check up on Tommy. Not that he was letting anyone else visit him besides his closest friends those first 2 weeks, but the point still stands.

Tommy lets his eyes roam over Charlie for a second, enjoying the uncomfortable look that flashes over his face, before nodding. “Sure.”

Tubbo and Tommy chat about nothing important, while Sam stares daggers at Charlie. Good, Tommy wasn’t the only one thinking it was strange of him to just show up unexpectedly. Tommy takes a final glance at the two, and finally asks the question he had been dreading.

“What’d you talk to Dream about at the prison?” Tubbo seems startled, and Tommy rolls his eyes. “I’m not blind, Tubbo. Just because I… don’t leave the house much… doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on on this bloody server. It was practically all anyone could talk about today. ‘What do you think Tubbo’s gonna do to him?’, you know, the standard rumors. Just thought I’d hear about it first hand.”

“First hand…” Tubbo mutters. “Well, I don't really, uh, want to talk about the bad parts of it.” Tommy expected this. He didn’t expect the way Tubbo’s eyes suddenly lit up, though. “Oh! But I did learn one thing, and, and it-”

Charlie sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “Not this again.”

“What do you mean by ‘this’-” Tommy started to ask, but got interrupted by Tubbo practically foaming at the mouth. Tommy knew this face. This was his theory face. This face was never a good face.

“I mean,” Tubbo continued, “I was talking to Dream, and he said this, like, super out of context thing. We were talking about, uh, how he was just as much of a god as DreamXD was-” Tommy shuddered. He knew the rants well. Very well. “-and anyways, he gets like, worked up about it and he says, ‘I just wish I could shove it in that stupid God’s face who just walks around--like he’s- normal! He isn’t! But I know how much I’m worth. I could totally shove it up his-' and then he said a bunch of curse words.”

Tommy spies Charlie’s face drain of color for some reason, and notes the way he quickly whispers something to Sam. Sam nods, and gets up, “I should get going. You two can handle yourselves, right?”

“Two? What about Charlie?” Tommy asks.

“I’m pretty tuckered out. I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” Slimecicle explains. Tommy knows this is a lie, he didn’t even look at them when he said it. “Maybe you guys should sleep on the whole god thing. Come to your senses.” Charlie’s awkward grin contrasts the rest of everyone’s neutral faces.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m a big man. I can handle being alone.”

“See you tomorrow, Tommy,” Sam salutes and exits the hut. Charlie follows suit, nodding as he leaves. Tommy notices he left goop on the doorknob. Gross.

Tommy and Tubbo sit in silence for a couple of seconds before Tommy asks, “What’s up with four-eyes?”

Tubbo stares at him with a questioning look. “Four-eyes? Who’s--oh. You mean Charlie.”

“Four-eyes is practically his name at this point,” Tommy counters. The dude literally had two sets of eyes, he swore it, although no one else seemed to notice.

Tubbo chuckles, “Sure. Even though I’m pretty sure it’s bullying, I’ll let it slide.”

Tommy throws his hands up in mock anger, “It’s not bullying if it’s true, you dickhead! And you didn’t answer my question. Why’d he come if he was only going to stay for a couple minutes?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, “He just asked to come.”

“Well, he looked awfully uncomfortable about it,” Tommy says. “It was like he came here just to observe or something.”

“I don’t know what he does with his free time! I’m pretty sure this was the first time we’ve talked in, I don’t know, maybe a month?”

“He needs a hobby besides watching children,” Tommy says pointedly, and then remembers what they were talking about before. “So, what’s this about a God on the server? Besides me, of course,” He laughs at his own joke.

“Oh yeah!” Tubbo says, and excitedly starts his rant about what went down in the cell today. “So after he said that, he just continued as normal. As if he didn’t just drop like a huge bomb on me and Sam. But Sam doesn’t think it’s important. Just another ramble.”

Tommy wasn’t really sure what to think. On the one hand, Dream was extremely delusional and self-absorbed, of course he said something like that. On the other, well, Dream wasn’t one for admitting his control had been ripped away. He was the type of guy who could literally be surrounded by more than 20 people and still thought he could manipulate his way out of it. Tommy knew this from experience. *Cough cough*, January 20th. All this to say, he really wouldn’t admit there was someone who could probably kill him out there, because he most likely didn’t think they existed.

“So who do you think it is?” Tommy asked, shaking his internal monologue from his mind.

“Oh I have no clue,” Tubbo laughed, “I don’t even think I know them, actually.”

“Of anyone on the server though, who would you guess?” Tommy was more just trying to get back into a joking manner. Even though Dream wouldn’t really lie about that sort of thing (well, maybe he was. Somebody who beats a child to death is not totally right in the mind), he couldn’t really fathom the idea of a genuine God.

“Well, I guess I would probably say Dream. Or Techno.”

“See, now I know it’s not Techno because he’s an idiot,” Tommy says. “Although I guess he doesn’t ‘ever die’. I could probably take him though.”

“Tell that to the pit,” Tubbo said.

“It was rigged,” Tommy grunted, and they dissolved into laughter. Almost just as normal, almost like before L’manburg, before exile, before his final death and revival. At least Tommy could pretend.

~*~

Charlie walked with Sam back home from Tommy’s, and Charlie was pretty sure it wasn’t out of charity. The guy clearly didn’t trust him. Was it something in his teeth? He almost chuckled at the idea. Charlie just wasn’t sure what he did. It was perfectly normal to check up on a kid who had just died 3 weeks prior. Checking up on them was a common courtesy.

Of course, he hadn’t actually gone to check up on Tommy. That was an added bonus, of course, he still worried about the kid even if he had threatened him with a map of vikkstar for 20 minutes, but no, that was not the main reason he went. He felt like a dick, just going over to see what they knew about Dream, but to be fair, his life was on the line. His finally normal life. He had worked hard for it.

Going to visit Tommy wasn’t completely necessary though. All Tubbo had said was a repeat of what he had told him earlier, except it was an exact quote this time.

It still gave him shivers, thinking about it. How the fuck had Dream figured out who he was? Charlie was so close to just ignoring it, pretending it was about some other god he had never heard of. And that would work just fine, except for the fact there were literally no other new members. Nobody could go undiscovered this long without being found out.

“So you want to go to the prison?” Sam finally asked.

“Yeah, to see Dream,” He could slap his face right there. Who else would be in there, Wilbur Soot?

“Why?” Sam asked. He had asked the same thing the moment they had exited Tommy’s dirt shack.

Charlie repeated the same thing he had said then, “Personal business,” He shrugged, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

“What could you possibly have to talk about with the prisoner?”

“I don’t know--” He tried to come up with an excuse that made sense, “--cookies?” Yeah, real great response there, Charlie Slimecicle, “What he does in there all day? I’m not friends with the guy. Maybe I’d just make fun of him for being in jail.”

“Those aren’t great reasons,” Sam pointed out.

“I can tell, Sherlock,” Charlie says, “Look it’s personal. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.” And while that probably made him even more suspicious, it worked.

“When do you want to go?”

~*~

So maybe, Dream was a little harsh on Tommy. Maybe he shouldn’t have blown up all of his shit.

Dream paused for a second and thought about his actions, reflecting on them deeply.

...

Yeah, Dream wasn’t convinced of it. Tommy needed to learn. And he ran away? They could’ve rebuilt Logestire together! A bonding experience, or something.

Whatever. He just needed someone powerful on his side, prime knew Dream XD wasn’t. And he’d get them on his side, willingly or not. He just needed to figure out where to start.

Immortal Figures; Volume 1.2 caught his eye. He picked it up and grinned, not that you could tell from under his mask.

This could work.

Chapter Text

Charlie wandered the plains somewhat carefree, still kind of on edge. It was still the world he had created, after all. Him and his friends didn’t exactly make it safe. Gods could still take damage, especially considering the roles they had all taken on.

He leaned down to pick up a white tulip. Not his favorite flower, but it would be nice to decorate the deserted village they had taken over after realizing that the ‘sonk ponkle’ was literally just a sea pickle. He had yet to get Bizly back for that one.

He flinched and dropped the flower when his communicator buzzed in his pocket. He watched the flower fall gently on the ground before picking it up again and looking at his communicator in his other hand.

GrizzlyPlays fell from a high place

GrizzlyPlays mothefucks get to molympus like rn i’m calling a meeting for this shit

Charlie laughed and pocketed the flower. He was taking a detour apparently. He swiftly turned around and headed towards the direction of their palace in the sky.

Despite the message calling for Charlie to get there immediately, he still just strolled along the path as usual. He wondered what his friends were doing at the moment. They usually tried to gain progress together, but sometimes they went off on their own missions and such to experience the world without Charlie’s dumb puns and Grizzly's snickering about whatever the fuck he messed with in the overworld this time.

Condi was possibly searching for diamonds in the mine, or maybe he was searching for lava pools. He was very excited to show off whatever he’d done in the Nether, so he was the only one really trying to make extreme progress. It wasn’t like they had a time limit or anything.

Charlie stumbled over a rock in the path, and while glaring at the stone he punted it. It didn’t go far and it only hurt his foot. Karma, he supposed.

Bizly--well. Who knew what went on in Bizly’s head? The man was chaotic. A newer God, and he’d only become one because of Charlie’s insistence. He was in good graces because of the infamous battle between him and Schlatt, although he’d tried to make them see that Condi and Grizzly were just as much of a help as he was.

It didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact Bizly decided to create hostile chickens and he saw no problems with it. Now the clucking of a chicken was in short, one of the most terrifying things to hear late at night.

Charlie could see the village of the infamous “sonk ponkle” in the distance now, which meant he was close to the throne room. He ran so that he’d get to the village quickly, and once he approached some random villager’s home, he pulled out the tulip from earlier and planted it in the ground. No time like the present to make a new home for a plant, despite the ringing “get to molympus like rn” in his head. Oh well, Grizzly could wait.

Speaking of Grizzly, what did he do this time? What did he need to call a meeting about this time, specifically? He seemed to be doing that a little more often now. Calling meetings and taking upheaval with whatever stupid rule the gods had made. Their job was to create the hardest server to live in, that was the point. Sometimes Charlie thought he forgot that, but then he remembered how completely unseriously Charlie and Griz took the meetings.

He nodded at the passing villagers, and went to a corner to shift into his Godly form to be able to fly to molympus without falling through the clouds or burn his retinas when looking at Condi, Griz, and Bizly when they were also in their forms as well.

He flew up to molympus. He thought the oak door being the entrance was quite funny for a quote-unquote god’s headquarters, despite others making fun of it. The door was fine as it was, thank you very much, and it made him grin upon seeing it. Shame on those who thought it was informal.

He opened the oak door and stepped into monolympus with a smile. He was home. But, Instead of the usual cool breeze and smiling faces of Griz and Condi (or Bizly’s who was in most cases, twisted with a frown. He claimed it was his small throne.), he saw the scene glitch. And then he recognized the telltale signs of his wandering mind. The way he didn’t quite fit in with his surroundings, the way everything seemed to slow until he interacted with it. He wiped the vision from his mind, ignoring what it possibly could have meant, and--

The warmth of the prison greeted him instead, gas mask and creeper DNA entering his vision, no smiling faces in sight. The vision was gone, he was back to real life. The real life he needed to save.

Fuck Dream. He just hoped the man didn’t know as much as Charlie thought he did.

~*~

Sam wondered if Charlie was even coming, until the man stumbled into the prison honestly looking pretty confused. So he was going to need to actually get ready. Fine.

Sam wasn’t really sure what to expect from Dream and Slimecicle’s interaction. Sure, Slime had been around long enough to know who Dream is. I mean, the guy whitelisted him somehow, but it was a pretty separate thing to visit him in prison. Of all of the times to visit him too. Dream had just been complaining about not having any visitors. Sam had reminded him of Tubbo’s visit. Dream had complained about it. Of course, he had. Dream was a bitch, and Sam really had to force himself to not just cut off the man’s food supply. He was this close to just feeding him one potato a week, but then he remembered that it was inhumane. Sam doubted Dream was human anyway, so the thought barely deterred him from the impulses.

Slime had barely flinched at the safety procedures Sam made him go through. It freaked Sam out a little, to be honest. People always despised that part of the prison. Slime just accepted it. It wasn’t really, let’s just say “in character”, of him. To be honest, he didn’t even think the guy could read, but the contracts were signed and Slimecicle could recite what they said in full. Sam started forcing visitors to do that now, after what happened with Tommy. Not that he expected the same situation to happen again, especially after all of the precautions he had taken, but it calmed his nerves either way.

He sat in his security room, staring through the one camera feed that was focused in the cell. Sliding on the headphones that fed him the audio, he was surprised to notice they were already talking.

“..So, what?” Slime was saying. On the video feed, he was just standing, staring at Dream, who was doing the same thing.

“Yeah, he can hear us right now,” Dream said. He looked directly at the camera, smiley face mask obscuring whatever face he had made at Sam. Slime followed where he was looking. “And see us,” he waved, “Hey Sam.”

“Hey Sam,” Slimecicle repeated, also looking at the camera. “Well, no offense dude but I don’t care much for the fact he’s listening in.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,“ He looks away for a second. “Well, we could technically smash-”

“He’d only rush in and fix it. He thinks about this stuff.” Dream says, tapping his temple. “Well, to be fair, I thought about this stuff. He just wants to make sure we aren’t threatening each other or whatever.”

“Pfft,” Slime says and laughs. “I could kill you before he gets down here. Literally.” He snaps his fingers, and it must have been a glitch of the camera or something because Sam swears he sees a spark between his fingers. “But I wouldn’t. I’m not an idiot.”

This is a very stark contrast to the man’s usually bubbly act. Sam knew something was up with the guy. Something was off with him since day one. He just wasn’t sure where the sudden “I could kill you whenever I wanted” mindset came from.

Dream says something that’s not picked up by the microphones in the camera. Sam wonders what he could’ve said to make Charlie bristle so much.

“Fucker,” Slime says with so much bite Sam almost flinches back from the way he spoke it with such weight and rage. What the fuck did Dream say? “So you know why I’m here then?”

“‘Course I do,” Dream shrugs. “Just because I’m in prison doesn’t mean I’m not still the admin.”

“The only trait you share with XD up there,” Slime jabs his finger at the sky, “Is your name,” He pushes Dream a bit. “Don’t act like you know him.”

Dream points to the camera again. “Don’t forget about our friend up there.”

“What? Just because I pushed-oh.” Recognition dawns on Slime’s face. Sam isn’t sure what he could’ve picked up in the conversation that makes Slime calm down a bit, but at least he won’t have to treat Dream’s wounds after this. That’s his least favorite part of the job, having to care for the man who killed a child and manipulated a server. Slime runs a shaky hand through his hair, “So, are you going to say anything about it?”

Dream laughs—no, he cackles. “Say anything? Say anything?”

Slime seems genuinely concerned in that moment, his facade breaking. His eyebrows turn up, and the man takes a minor step back. What does Dream know? What could possibly create this sort of reaction? Sam desperately craves the context.

“No, I won’t say anything,” Slime sighs, but Dream continues, “For now. For now, I have some things that-“ The audio crackles and pops, and the video feed shuts off.

“What the fuck?” Sam asks.

He never noticed the sparks dancing across Charlie’s finger pads, or the last frame where Charlie stared at the cameras which caused the feed to glitch and repeat scenes from earlier. No, he was too distracted by the fury in Charlie’s eyes, something he’d never quite seen before.

~*~

The platform and Sam couldn’t have come faster, and Charlie desperately rushed into it, completely ignoring the triumph in Dream’s stance.

Fucking Dream.

He couldn’t have been serious, could he? He was trapped in that prison. He couldn’t do anything, which meant Charlie didn’t have to do anything either, right? Right? That’s why he was in the prison in the first place.

He went through the procedure of getting out of the prison without acknowledging what just happened. If he ignored it, it didn’t happen. That was his motto, and he was gonna live by it.

He took his things out of the locker and realized how Sam’s fingers twitched, the way his eyebrows were quirked. He was looking for an explanation.

Charlie had fried the video feed, right? Hopefully, it corrupted the audio file too. He decided to tread lightly. “Sorry about the, uh, camera.” He puts on his diamond armor. His netherite was back at home, only gathering dust. He hated the way the heat radiated off of the armor set. “I can get you a new one or something.”

Sam put his hands on his hips. “Well, that wasn’t your fault.” He paused for a second. “Unless?”

“No,” Charlie said. He was gonna play dumb until his last breath. It was something he was good at. He laughed, “God, no. If I could’ve done that, I would’ve done it earlier.” And he really would’ve. Charlie despised the fact he could see and hear everything, but he knew that if he got rid of the camera early he’d only have about a minute before Sam would retrieve him.

“Mhm,” Sam only hummed in response. “Yeah, well, I’m going to stop you before you just leave.”

Charlie paused. Here it was. Somehow, only the camera got fried and Sam could hear the rest of the conversation. The threats, the tasks. His life was going to be ruined. As if it wasn’t already. He never should’ve come to this server in the first place.

“What the fuck was the context between you two?” Sam asked. Not much of a better question than he had been expecting, but Charlie breathed a sigh of relief nonetheless. Charlie was great at bullshitting things, no matter how much it seemed painfully obvious he was lying. He could spin a tale so large you forgot the original question and you just wanted him to stop talking at that point.

“The context?” Charlie scratched his chin. Yeah, Sam definitely would not believe his excuse whatsoever, but it was going to have to work. Charlie wasn’t here to mess around. “Yeah, motherfucker knew some shit I planned to take to my grave.” He laughed awkwardly. He was never going to end up in a grave, unless he was buried alive. He didn’t like the fact it was quite possible he could end up like that now. Before it had only seemed like an irrational fear, but now--he had some concerns, to say the least. “I literally have no clue how he knew.” This bullshit excuse was starting to seem more like the truth the longer he talked. Maybe it actually was believable.

“What was it?”

“Dude you don’t just ask what someone’s deepest darkest secret is,” Charlie jokes, and nudges Sam with his elbow. “But I’ll let you in on it, just this once. He knew about my childhood. A stupid fight with one of my friends, I nicked his nose, he punched my stomach. I got kicked out of the school. I just heard some rumors he knew something about me, I assumed it was that, and it was.” Charlie had completely thrown out the believability factor with that story. He had made it up entirely. To be honest, he couldn’t really remember his teenage years. Couldn’t even remember how old he was, at this point.

“Really?” Sam gave him a ‘you really think i’m going to believe that?’ face, which was basically a ‘that excuse was so dumb i think a kindergartener could’ve come up with something more original’ face. So Sam didn’t believe him. Yeah, that made sense. “That was what got you so worked up?”

“Embarrassing time, what can I say? Getting kicked out of highschool over a fight that I didn’t even win? Embarrassing shit, dude.”

“Sure,” Sam said, and let him pass. “Anyways, when you want to tell me the truth, just stop by. Dream’s stuck in that prison, he couldn’t do anything if he had strength three and a netherite sword.”

“It was the truth!” Charlie protested. It didn’t really matter, Sam wasn’t going to be able to guess what Dream had really said no matter how hard he racked his brain for it. Nobody suspected the newbie of the server to be a God.

Charlie just had to find out how Dream knew in the first place.

~*~

Dream had trained himself in spotting the signs of a God after reading all of the volumes, plus spin-offs with additional knowledge about the limited facts they knew about the Gods already out there. The volumes were hard to find, he had to go search for a stronghold and found them in the libraries, along with finding the books in abandoned shipwrecks and jungle temples. So color him surprised when he spotted one seemingly switching from just one server to the next.

Dream invited him to the server a couple of days before his showdown with Tubbo and Tommy. The invite wouldn’t make its way to him for a couple of days, but that was fine. By the time he got to the server Dream would be there to greet him and Tubbo would be dead with Tommy in prison.

The backup would not be needed, but it would be good to have nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Tubbo was somewhat nervous to introduce his idea (plan) to Tommy and Ranboo, so he decided to just bite the bullet and go for it. Ranboo and Tommy were both there at the same time, so it was the perfect moment, he tried reasoning with himself.

“So, I know how we have this entire plan to kill Dream,” Tubbo started, and Tommy glanced over to him from whatever tool he was sharpening against the table.Tubbo gulped, to be honest, it was kind of a threatening sight. “B-but-”

“You’re not suggesting we stop, are you?” Ranboo questioned. He didn’t seem particularly put off by it, but Tubbo was quick to clarify.

“No! No, no I’m not saying that at all,” Tubbo shook his head, “I just think maybe we could focus on this, uh, other thing I had planned. It doesn’t seem like we’d be able to kill him so soon anyways.”

Tommy sat his tool down on the table (it had been a knife), and walked over to Tubbo, who was sitting down on the couch. “So you’re saying we shouldn’t try at all?”

“No!” Tubbo said, and his hands flew out from his sides. “Just listen, ok? I promise it’s not horrible.”

“I’m listening,” Ranboo said. Tommy rolled his eyes but nodded too.

“So, I was thinking--well, first,” Tubbo tripped over his words, caught up in the plan that had been stewing in his head for the past two days (ever since his visit with Dream), “I’ve told you about my conversation with Dream, yeah?”

“Yes?” Ranboo asked. It was phrased as a question and Tubbo presumed it was because he didn’t like where the conversation was going.

“What if we try to find out who they are?” Tubbo asked.

“Weren’t you already trying to do that?” Tommy tilted his head.

“Well, yeah,” Tubbo shamefully admitted. He had spent a little more time than he’d like to admit going over what they could do if they had them on their side. “But it’s different this time. Combined brainpower,” He tapped the side of his skull. “Don’t tell me you aren’t interested.”

“I mean, is this really more important than trying to kill Dream?” Ranboo asked. “He’s a lot more dangerous with the revive book than whoever the god is. I mean, if they wanted to do something dangerous, they would’ve. Right?”

“We could do both at the same time,” Tubbo adds, “If we found out who the god is, well, they could kill Dream for us! It would be foolproof.”

“I don’t know, big man,” Tommy said. He turned a sheepish look to his knife, “I’m scared Dream’ll bring Wilbur back.”

“Please!” Tubbo got out his puppy dog eyes, “It’ll help us in the long run. I promise.”

“I’ll do it,” Ranboo says, “As long as we aren’t completely abandoning the Dream plan.”

“I never said we would,” Tubbo says, but he’s happy. At least one person is on board. He turned his eyes to Tommy, who seems to be thinking about it a little too hard.

Finally, after a minute or two, Tommy throws his hands up. “Argh!” He drags a hand down his face, “Fine, fine. Let’s do it.”

Tubbo punches the air, “Yes! Okay, I promise I won’t get tunnel vision again like I have before. You won’t regret this.”

Cut to an hour later where Tubbo had pulled out three journals for all of them to “theorize” in, and all three of them were placed around the living room brainstorming ideas.

“I think we should go down the list of people on the server and then just cross them off based on whether or not they’d be a good fit,” Tubbo says. He’s laying on his stomach, legs crossed on the floor. Tommy had kicked him off the couch. In his words, if he was going to be roped into Tubbo’s conspiracies, he should at least be comfortable

“That seems smart except we don’t even know if we know them,” Ranboo points out.

“Ranboob has a point,” Tommy ignores the pointed look Ranboo throws at him. “But, I also feel like we would know if some rando joined with some sketchy ass background who knows a little too much about whatever’s going on here, or has some sort of odd powers.”

“I’m not sure they’d stick out though. Gods must have disguises, right?,” Ranboo doesn’t look up from the book he’s writing in. Tommy only sticks his tongue out in response, so, unfortunately (not really), Ranboo doesn’t see it. “Anyways, maybe we should learn more about what makes someone a God. That makes more sense, I think?”

“Is that for our sake, or Dream’s?” Tubbo asks.

“Good point,” Tommy scratches his wrist, “Maybe we should base our assumptions off of the green bastard, yeah? I mean, he was the one who brought it up in the first place. He considers himself a God. So maybe we should just be looking for someone who’s extremely powerful.”

Tubbo pouts, “That defeats the entire point then!” And throws up his hands in defeat. “I am literally this close to sneaking into the prison to just ask Dream what the fuck he was talking about, but we all know how that would go.”

“That, and Sam would kick your butt,” Ranboo adds.

“Who’s butt am I kicking?” Sam enters into their messy space, making everyone jump, and in Tommy’s case-

Tommy throws the journal Tubbo had given him at Sam, nailing him in the forehead. “Fuck, Sam! You scared me!”

Sam rubs his head, and gives the book back to Tommy, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy waves him away, “Just knock next time. I have a door for a reason, man.”

“What are you doing here?” Ranboo asks, interjecting them.

“Just wanted to check up on Tommy,” Sam shrugs, and Tommy rolls his eyes, “I didn’t expect you all to be here.”

“It’s called bonding, big man,” Tommy says, “B-o-n-d-i-n-g. Not sure if you know what it means. It means indulging your friends' theories, even when they’re very much not likely.”

“That is just not true, like at all,” Ranboo says.

“What do you know about it, Ran-boob?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“Ignoring the name-calling,” Sam says (while coincidentally also ignoring Tommy's squawk of protest at the 'name calling'), “I would’ve told you I was coming over, but I was caught up at the prison.”

“What happened?” Tubbo asks.

“I’m not supposed to tell you who visited, but I’m going to make an exception here,” Sam crosses the room to sit on the couch Tommy was on, despite the flash of uncomfort that appeared on his face, “Slimecicle visited Dream for some reason. Don’t ask why, it was completely out of left field and the answer he gave for wanting to visit the prisoner was shit. Anyways, he visits, and even though it probably isn’t his fault, I’m going to blame him nonetheless. The camera and audio file got corrupted halfway through his visit, which made them shut down.”

“So you couldn’t hear what they said?” Tommy asks.

“No, I could,” Sam says, “It was only after Dream started talking about something else that the cameras malfunctioned, but still. It’s going to be a pain to repair them. Along with the audio. I’d have to go into Dream’s specific cell to fix it.”

“That sucks,” Ranboo says.

“I wonder why Charlie was visiting,” Tubbo ponders, “Why could he have wanted to see Dream?”

“Don’t ask me,” Sam says, “The man was pretty scared afterward though. I don’t know what he could have said to make him so--what’s the word? Shuddery.”

“Dream’s a terrifying individual, Sammy,” Tommy says, “It’s quite practical to be wary of the man.”

Hours later, when the day was coming to an end, Tubbo finally made his way to Snowchester. Everything seemed to be normal, not that he’d expect anything less. Although he did start to get more paranoid when leaving Snowchester unattended for so long. Having nukes can do that to you, apparently.

When he approached his house he saw Charlie running by with a bundle of books in his arms. One slipped out, but he didn’t notice. He just continued until he got in his house and slammed the door shut, making the house rattle.

Tubbo went up to pick up the book. Potion Making for Beginners, the title read. It made him wonder what kind of potions Charlie needed to be in such a rush, and what the other books could’ve possibly been.

~*~

Interesting the way January 20th turned out. The imprisoner turned prisoner. Dream could laugh at the irony, but he was currently staring at the wall of lava separating him from his goals.

He’d have to figure out what to do now.

Not that it would make a difference. Dream, if nothing else, was always a bit of a schemer.

Chapter Text

Charlie deposited all of his books on his work table, covering whatever he was working on before. For the moment, this was kind of the most important thing. He glanced between the covers and suddenly realized how many of them weren’t even for him. He pushed his palms into his eyes and groaned. This was going to be such a long night for him, he just knew it. Stealing another glance at the clock, he wondered if he could just sleep the night away and think about this more. I mean, really, he chastised himself, what could Dream even do from inside the prison?

He opened a random book and started skimming it. Ugh, redstone. That wasn’t really his forte, but it was important to know if he were to do what Dream asked of him.

He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt. This was the most inner battle he’d had since the whole Schlatt business, and then after that it was Grizzly… it had been awhile. He grabbed an empty journal on the top shelf and tore a page out of it, setting it on top of all of the other books. It might be an absolute pain to write on, but it was better than shoving them off of his desk and then having to clean them up later.

He wrote pros on one side, drew a line down the middle, and wrote cons on the other. And then he completely burst out laughing. Was he really doing a pros and cons list? Seriously?

Charlie took this as a sign he needed to go to bed. He had already spent the past night tossing and turning over whatever Dream knew, and if today’s events were anything to show for it, he’d be repeating the scene once again. Insomnia, his old friend. How much he hadn’t missed it.

He threw away the piece of paper, neither side having any points. Maybe it should stay that way. He went to go and collect his sleeping clothes (or pajamas, whatever floats your boat), when a sudden knocking distracted him from it.

Charlie walked over to the door and hesitated before opening it. It was stupid, really. He was getting paranoid.

Tubbo was on the other side of the door, holding a book close to his chest. He jumped when Charlie opened the door, almost dropping the book. “What, surprised to see me answer?”

Tubbo laughed, “No, no, not that. I was lost in my thoughts. Zoning out a bit.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie nodded. He tapped his foot when Tubbo didn’t say anything else, “So, do you want to come in? It’s kind of a mess though, I’m warning you.”

Tubbo shook his head, “I’m good. I just came to drop this off,” Tubbo offered Charlie the book. Potion Making for Beginners, it read. Oh, one of the books he’d grabbed from earlier. “You ran past me a couple minutes ago and didn’t notice it when it fell from your stack-thing.”

Charlie took the book, “Thanks. I didn’t even realize I dropped it.”

“Sure,” Tubbo said, but didn’t move from his place at the door. If Charlie didn’t know any better, he’d think that Tubbo was stalling. That he did not only come to just drop off a book.

He didn’t want to have a meaningless conversation though, and it seemed like the transaction was over, so he decided to just end it here, “So… I’ll see you around?”

Tubbo nodded absentmindedly, “Yeah, I guess so.” He turned and walked from his hobbit entrance, “I’ll see you around, Charlie.”

“Sure,” Charlie responded, even though Tubbo was too far away to hear him at this point.

He placed the book on top of all of the others and decided to worry about it later. Yeah, maybe some sleep would do him some good. He put on flannel pants and a t-shirt, then brushed his teeth. Anxious thoughts were pushed away, and Charlie collapsed in his bed.

To be honest, he didn’t actually think that he’d sleep that night. Too many thoughts and what-ifs were crammed inside of his head for him to sleep peacefully, but peacefully he slept. He was quite happy about it when he woke up.

Unfortunately, instead of waking up to birds chirping or rain pounding on the ground above him, he awoke to knocking. What was it with the knocking? Charlie hadn’t felt so popular since he became a legend on some of his previous servers. The attention always made him feel special.

He groaned and looked at the clock. It wasn’t even that late! So he decided, fuck it, and barely put any effort in his outfit and only barely touched his hair. And by barely, he meant didn’t touch it. His “Yeah, I’m a gamer,” t-shirt was only somewhat crumpled. It was fine.

When he opened his door, the cold wind hit him at full blast. The comforter of his bed was just too comfortable, it seemed, and it lulled him into a false sense of not living in the tundra snow biome thing that he did live in. Then, he noticed the creeper hybrid standing in his doorway. His eyes roamed over Charlie’s appearance, and Charlie felt extremely bare compared to him. “Did I wake you up?”

He shrugged, “Uh, kind of.”

“It’s 8 AM,” Sam said. “Super late. What time do you usually get up?”

“Nine of your business,” Charlie joked. The pun went completely unnoticed by Sam. “Oh come on, that was good.”

“Anyways, I need you to pay for those cameras you broke. And the audio system.”

“I didn’t break them dude!” Charlie defended. “I didn’t have anything to do with them breaking.”

“You were in the general area of the cameras when they broke.” Sam tried. “I’m only blaming you because they were expensive and I refuse to admit they had any flaws.”

“Douche vibes,” Charlie said, and then he remembered the whole Dream situation. If he could get into the prison and check with Dream about whatever so-called power he had over Charlie, his worries could be disproven, and Dream could be shown to be a dirty liar (not that anyone really needed convincing of that last part). “I can fix the cameras for you instead of paying for them, you know.”

“You seriously think I’m letting you in there again after you broke them in the first place?”

“That was not my fault,” Charlie pointed out, again, even if it technically was. Not that Sam knew that, yet somehow he got it in his head he did cause it. “Anyways, I won’t cause any trouble. I won’t break Dream out while you aren’t watching, not that I could. Plus, I’m pretty good at fixing stuff.”

“Mmm, sure, whatever,” Sam rolls his eyes, “But it doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted to let you near my cameras again, I need to keep an eye on you guys. Even if you’re pretty harmless in general, I need to make sure you aren’t going to kill each other while I’m not looking.”

Ignoring the subtle dig at Charlie’s strength, he felt his hope die out a little bit. He was very much hoping he could go in and have a conversation with him without Sam knowing about… well, in short, Charlie didn’t want him knowing about things he didn’t have a reason to know about. Which is why it would be the perfect time to discuss specifics.

“Okay, but—and hear me out—what if I repair the cameras for you?” Charlie quickly added, “Free of charge. I break it, I fix it. Yeah?”

Sam crosses his arms. “You’re not going in.”

“Sam, my dude, my buddy, come on,” Charlie was practically begging, and begging for something he severely wanted to avoid. Dream gave him the creeps, but his life as he knew it was literally on the line, well his and others, and he really did not want Dream to ruin it.

Sam glared for a solid ten seconds which made Charlie very uncomfortable, “Fine. I’ll need to add a bit of red stone for you to call for me though, which will take most of the day. Drop by when the sun sets.”

“I can do that,” Charlie says. Now he just needed a way to fill the time.

“A way” to fill the time was fishing, apparently, since he was too stressed to really do anything else. Maybe he wouldn’t need to use the books after all! Maybe he could go back to living without the threat of blackmail over his head. Seriously, Dream was trapped. The only person he had access to was Sam, and any other people who were willing to visit him. That’s it. That’s it.

The sunset came quicker than expected. He had gotten very absorbed with his fishing. 31 cod, 3 salmon, a mending book. A very good fishing day indeed. He dropped them off in the barrel outside of his house, and went over to the prison.

Sam seemed very hesitant to let him through the prison, which Charlie found reasonable. He asked Charlie almost 4 times if he was sure about it. That was even more times than when Sam asked how he was going to fix the cameras without any tools.

Going through all of the redstone was honestly kind of appalling, but nothing he wasn’t used to after being through all of the servers he’d been on. Those were completely different rabbit holes.

This time, riding across the path was easy. He barely even tripped. Charlie decided focusing on these details was better than focusing on the man in front of him. He stepped off the platform and finally looked Dream straight.

“You’re back,” Dream noted.

“I’m just here to fix the cameras,” Charlie said, but didn’t move from his place. The camera in the corner was still charred, and to be honest, Charlie didn’t know much about fixing them. He’d have to rely on his powers for the most part.

“Ah yes, the cameras,” Dream said. “The ones you broke in a blind rage. For someone who claims to be different now--”

“I’m here to fix the cameras,” Charlie repeated. He wasn’t letting Dream get into his head this time.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dream took a step back, “Come on in then.”

Charlie nodded and entered the room. The lava dropped behind him. He was trapped, for now.

Dream sat on the floor, “Pull that lever if you need Sam. He made me put it there. I guess he can’t stand to look at me after Tommy, huh?” He pointed to the only lever in the room, and Charlie tried to ignore the comments. Suddenly interacting with Dream again made him remember why he was in the prison in the first place, and Charlie itched to just call for Sam to get him out.

“Listen man, I just want to live here like a normal guy,” Charlie hesitated, “Which means that you can’t talk about them like that.”

“You think you can just—live life normally?” Dream throws his head back, and laughs. Cackles, really. It’s such an eerie sight.

Charlie stumbles back a little, he’s not really sure why. He’s a God for pete’s sake. But still, somehow this green bitch still has some sort of control over him. “Yeah, I think I can.” Charlie says and crosses his arms, somewhat in a form of defense, and somewhat in a form of trying to make himself look a little less weak.

Dream laughs again. “You-“ He restarts since his sentence keeps getting interrupted with chuckles, “You can’t just live like you're not—you—it’s, it’s embarrassing, you’re embarrassing the real gods by just living normally. You can’t fix your mistakes by doing nothing. Just hanging with the mortals as if you didn’t ruin people’s lives-“

“I didn’t ruin anybody’s life. Grizzly—he, he didn’t—“ Charlie was this close to punching Dream. This close. “Jschlatt was the villain.”

“You were the one to exile Grizzly from Monolympus. Jschlatt had been banished since then. Moved on to bigger, better things.” His mask barely conceals the smirk on his face. “Like dying on this server. I wonder if Tommy ever got to talk to the guy in the afterlife. You know, get out some of his feelings with him. Like couples therapy.”

“Keep Tommy out of this. He’s a kid.”

Dream shrugs, “Whatever you say, boss. Now how’re my tasks going?”

Charlie freezes. There was no way he was doing any of the things he asked of him. All Charlie had wanted when he came to this server was to just move on from his spotty history, to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

To protect Condi, Grizzly, and Bizly.

He shook away the thoughts. They hated him. They didn’t need him, or his protection. “I’m not doing them.”

“Oh?” Dream asks. He leans over to the lever that called for Sam. “You’re not?”

“You wouldn’t.” Charlie grits his teeth. There’s no way. “He wouldn’t believe you.”

“But if he did?” Dream asks again, fingers getting too close for comfort to the lever.

“This doesn’t matter. One person knowing won’t change anything. You can’t impact everyone else by only telling Sam,” Charlie tried reasoning with Dream, but mostly with himself. To be honest, he could just wipe the man’s memories, but it was a tedious process, a very precise one. He also didn’t want anyone knowing in the first place.

“You’re telling me that you’d willingly let Sam know about your secret?”

“That’s not-“

Dream flicked the lever. Sam’s name tag appeared through the lava pool. Charlie started to sweat.

His eyes flicked around the room dangerously.

“What do you need?” Sam called across the chasm. Charlie froze. “Slimecicle?”

“No, actually, I have something I need to tell you about him.” Dream smiles and gestures to Charlie.

Charlie breaks. This can’t be the end. “No!” He pushes Dream out of the way and stands in front of him, as if that would change how Sam would hear what he had to say. He spins around and stares at Dream and throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine! Fine!”

“I want to hear you say it. In full.”

Charlie sighs and mutters, “I’ll do it. I’ll do them. All of them.”

He could’ve sworn he saw Dream eye Sam across the lava. “I suppose that works, we don’t want Sam knowing the specifics of the situation, do we?” Sam stares at them, “You’re all good Sam! Charlie here hasn’t finished his camera-fixing yet. You can go back.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks. He looks at Charlie for confirmation.

“Yeah, yeah just--just go back,” Charlie says. When Sam leaves, Charlie turns to Dream again, “I was serious. Just because Sam would know doesn’t mean that he could carry out your threats for you.”

“It’s not just me, Slimecicle,” Dream drawls, “You seriously think that I’m working alone? I have a person on the outside. Soon it will be two, when you start doing the things I asked.”

“Another person?” Charlie mutters. Who could they be? For all Charlie knew, everyone abandoned Dream in January when he decided threatening two kids was a good use of his time. The only person one his side back then was Ponk he thought, or maybe Purpled? There were way too many people on this server with P names. He racked his brain--Punz! That was the person. But the only reason they were with Dream was because he was paying him... and even then it wasn’t enough in the long run.

“I would let you know of them so you could work together,” Dream stretches his arms, “But I don’t think I want either of you to know about each other’s arrangement.”

Charlie just stares at Dream until he makes a shooing gesture with his hands, “Aren’t you here to fix the camera?”

“Yes, that is why I am here.”

“Then fix it! And the audio system. I think this talk has been good for us, but Sam will be getting worried. Such a worrier, that warden.” Dream situates himself on the ground, the exact spot where he’d be able to watch everything Charlie does.

Charlie fixed the camera, feeling dirty after showing off his power in front of Dream. He felt so bare.

He ignored Sam on the way out, and only then does he realize that he failed his goal of not letting Dream get in his head.

~*~

“Why do I have to be the one to ask?” Ranboo groaned.

“Because Technoblade won’t kill you on sight,” Tubbo answered.

“He wouldn’t kill you guys on sight either,” Ranboo pointed out. “He’s not like a savage or anything.”

“Technoblade has lots of swords, Ranboob,” Tommy says, “And a firework launcher. You are the perfect person for the job.”

“Just because he reads doesn’t mean he has the books we want,” Ranboo says. This was going to be the worst social interaction ever, he could tell. Tommy and Tubbo weren’t budging. Damn them and their unbreakable bond.

“I wouldn’t be reading if I didn’t have to. This is all for Tubbo.”

“Hey!” Tubbo shoved Tommy a little bit. Ranboo didn’t miss the way Tommy tenses and panics for a couple of seconds. He’d been noticing more little things like that since the entire death thing, along with his blackouts becoming a little more frequent. He didn’t like either of them. “Listen, I’m well aware he might not have them. But it’s worth a shot, right?”

“You’re not the one bartering for the books in the first place!” Ranboo blurted.

His complaints were ignored though, and he was sent on his merry way to Technoblade’s home in the arctic.
“‘Technoblade will listen to you’, yeah right,” Ranboo mocked under his breath. He was approaching the house now, he could tell. The snow was more dense as if it had been walked on more, and he was finding more torches placed around albeit a bit randomly.

“What will Technoblade listen to you about?” The piglin hybrid asked, suddenly appearing besides Ranboo.

He let out a very enderman-like warbled cry, “Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Technoblade chuckled, “I couldn’t help but overhear your argument with yourself. My hearing is just too good for thin’s to be private.”

“Ugh, I know,” Ranboo laughed, “Well, I was sent to retrieve books from you.”

“Books? You can read?” Technoblade jokes.

“I can, actually. I’ll take that as a compliment. I just subvert everyone’s expectations so hard they forget I can actually do things.”

“Seems like a Ranboo thing to do,” Techno nudges him a little, “So, why books?”

“Dream told Tubbo about some God on the server which got him hooked on the idea about them existing.” Ranboo shrugs, “I don’t really think they exist, so I’m mainly doing it for Tubbo’s sake.”

“He wants to control ‘em?”

“I don’t really know, but it’s not as harsh as you think.”

“Mhm,” Techno hummed, “So what do you need the books for?”

Ranboo thinks about this. It was mostly just to figure out the signs of a God so they could find them themselves, but it was also, “I think he’s hoping the book will just name gods and he’ll be able to figure it out from there.”

“Basically just skippin’ the entire research part of it, then.”

“I guess,” Ranboo says, “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those types of books, would you?”

“Nah, not really. I’m a greek nerd, sure, but it’s all myths and stuff. Nothing entirely factual, and none of it’s in ‘book’ form. It’s knowledge that’s passed mouth-from-mouth.”

“That sucks,” Ranboo sighs, “Well, I guess it was worth a shot, right? Maybe you should write down your greek knowledge. It would be a good time filler.”

“That it would, but I’m busy with other things,” Techno concedes. “Wanna stay for a bit? Phil’s makin’ tea.”

Staying for tea wouldn’t hurt. He could report back to Tommy and Tubbo later. For now, he was going to indulge in some self serving. “Sure,”

The wind bit his cheeks as he and Techno headed into the cabin.

~*~

Dream didn’t think the god would bend to his demands immediately. No, that would take some time. He would have to be patient and wait for a time to enforce his threats. Hopefully sooner than later, but he could work with anything.

He just had to sit back and relax at the moment.

Chapter Text

Ranboo walked into Tommy’s dirt shack feeling better about himself. Talking about random shit with Techno and Philza over tea did something to the soul in a very good way. Something about having the two deadliest warriors in the same room as you while you talked about the best way to humanely collect honey was very healing.

Ranboo realized the moment he walked in he had made a couple of mistakes. Number one, he didn’t knock. That was just rude, to be honest. Number two, he hadn’t gained any sort of knowledge related to what Tubbo wanted to know. It may have not been his fault, but he considered it a mistake nonetheless. Number three, and quite possibly the most dangerous one to make, he had forgotten to tell Tubbo and Tommy he was going to be staying the night at Techno’s despite his lack of knowledge on the subject.

He was made acutely aware of all three in the next 10 minutes.

So, here we are, Ranboo walking into the home of TommyInnit, just now realizing the things he had done wrong, when Tommy screeches and throws a pillow in his direction. It misses him and hits the frame on the wall instead, breaking the glass.

“Holy fucking shit, Ranboo,” Tommy pants, “I thought you were a burglar! Knock the next time, big man.”

Ranboo scratches his neck, “Sorry about that ,Tub-Tommy. Tommy, I mean Tommy. I just forgot.”

Tubbo walks into the room, eyes instantly landing on the remnants of the photo on the ground, “What the fuck happened to your picture?” He then notices Ranboo, who realizes the chaos he made when Tubbo yells, “You’re not dead!”

“I am not, you are correct,” Ranboo says.

“Where were you, big man?” Tommy asks. “Did you get any juicy deets from the mighty Technoblade himself?”

“Tommy, just because you’re using popular slang terms does not mean that you yourself are popular.”

“Tubbo you’re just a dick.”

“I didn’t get any information from Techno,” Ranboo interrupts. He feels kind of bad, but not entirely. It wasn’t a super big deal. Plus, he was sure there were other ways to learn about it.

“But he’s a total greek freak!” Tubbo complains. “How could he not possibly know anything about gods?”

“He mostly just knows the stuff about myths. No actual facts,” Ranboo tried explaining.

“Myths have to come from somewhere, Ranboo,” Tubbo says, “Some of it had to have been inspired by the truth.”

Ranboo almost laughs. The truth? This whole thing has felt like an awful goose chase. The only ‘truth’ they’d be finding were more myths and lies he’d believe from Dream. But Ranboo was never one to shit on others ideas so he only nodded, “I guess. I just don’t know how knowing about Hercules will help us.”

“Well, were those the myths he knew about?”

“Guys, I hate to interrupt this… discussion-thing, but can someone clean up that glass on the floor?” Tommy asks.

“I volunteer Ranboo since he broke it.”

“What?” Ranboo held his hands up in surrender, “You don’t even know that!”

“No offense, but a lot of things happen because of you,” Tubbo says, “It’s a reasonable assumption.”

“Appropriate, I suppose,” Ranboo mutters, already looking for the dustpan and broom. How come he was always the middle-man?

After cleaning up the glass and bandaging his finger (he broke it on the glass while he was cleaning. tubbo was more than concerned for something as small as a paper cut), they sat together on Tommy’s couch. To call it awkward would be an understatement, and Ranboo was desperately looking for some kind of out.

“So!” Tommy tried, clapping his hands together, “What kind of tomfoolery are we planning today?”

Tubbo pokes Tommy, “Have you been here the entire time? How have you not figured out what we’re planning?”

“Wait, we’re planning something?” Ranboo asked. Maybe it wasn’t just Tommy that was out of the loop, although Ranboo was traditionally in that same spot.

“Yes, we are!” Tubbo exclaims, “We aren’t just giving up after the Techno failure. Who are you guys, and what have you done with the people who burned down George’s house as a prank?”

Tommy pulls at the collar of his shirt, looking extremely uncomfortable, “Well, big man, that was kind of a one-time-”

“I just had a great idea!” Tubbo bursts, completely ignoring Tommy’s previous statement. “I saw Charlie Slime carrying a fuck-ton of books the other day. He must know where to find some good books about immortality and shit.”

“Poggers, man!” Tommy says, “You’re a genius.” He adds, but Ranboo believes it to be more out of sarcasm rather than a genuine compliment.

“I guess we’re heading to Charlie’s, then?” Ranboo asks.

And to Charlie’s they were. The temperature dropped almost the exact moment they entered the snowy biome, and Ranboo shivered. Maybe he really should’ve brought a coat, but no. “We’ll only be there for a couple of minutes,” Tubbo had said. And while that could be true, they will be very long and uncomfortable minutes. Where’s Tubbo’s logic when you need it?

Finally, they approach Charlie’s hobbit hole and Tubbo knocks on the door, to which Charlie answers the door in somewhat of a haze. His hair’s a mess, and his glasses are wonky. In his arms are a couple of potion bottles, all awkward so far, but that was probably soon to change considering the blaze residue smell in the air.

“Howdy!” Charlie greets, relaxing immediately after realizing it was only Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. They all cringe when he tosses the bottles on the floor, even though they didn’t break. They had to be crafted like that, you never know what could happen if you accidentally drop your regeneration potion on a zombie mid-combat. That’s what splash potions were for, not that you would want to give a zombie regeneration in the first place. The whole thing was just a precaution, in general.

“Hey Char-ley,” Tommy greets, stepping to the front of the group, and completely ignoring common decency, peers inside his hut, “What are you doing in there?”

“I’m not really doing, more of trying, and failing.”

“Doesn’t really answer my question,” Tommy says, and crosses his arms, “You hiding something?”

“Well I guess you could say I’m being po-shunned, from creating potions,” Charlie raises his eyebrows at the others groans.

“We could help,” Ranboo says from the back. And sure, maybe he was throwing both Tommy and Tubbo under the bus because he didn’t consult with them first, but whatever. “I’ve picked up a little potion-making skills from Technoblade.”

“I’m willing to help only because I want to show off my epic potion recipes to the three of you,” Tommy says.

“Uh, no, no, I’m good actually,” Charlie tries and fails to stop Tommy from entering the hut, “I already have this book…” He trails off as both Ranboo and Tubbo also enter.

“Books are shit. It’s best to learn from experience.” Tommy eyes Charlie up and down, “Wait a second, can you even read?”

“I feel like we’re getting off track here,” Tubbo says, eyeing everyone in the room warily. “Charlie, if we help you with your potions will you help us?”

“Well, I don’t really want your help in general, but sure.” Charlie shrugs. “What am I going to do? Say no?”

“You could say no,” Ranboo points out.

“Fair enough.”

~*~

Charlie spent the night heavily debating whether or not to cave to Dream’s demands. It was so similar to the night before, he got a wave of deja vu just from thinking about it. Not for the first time he considered just cursing the guy to get him to stop, but it would be more of an inconvenience to Dream than anything else. Plus, it wasn’t like he could do it in his form as it was anyways. And he’d have to go through Sam… and also reveal his form to both of them… and walk out like nothing happened. Not entirely his idea of a good plan.

Charlie could also kill Dream.

He didn’t spend much time thinking about it… really, he just needed to get started. The faster he got the tasks done the faster his blackmail would be over. That’s how it worked right? Did it matter how it worked?

He went to bed early even though the idea of sleep was just completely out of his mind when his head hit the pillow. Unsurprisingly, he spent the entire night anxious about what he was going to have to do. Is this what Dream would’ve been doing if he was out of prison? Or is this a more toned-down version? He had shivered several times during the night trying to imagine what could possibly be a more toned-up (?) version of his plans, and safe to say, it wasn’t pretty.

After getting a collective amount of 5 minutes he spent sleeping, he woke up feeling quite possibly worse than he had the night before. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to do any of Dream’s evil shit, but fuck. He didn’t have a choice, did he?

Running over the list in his mind, (because fuck if he was going to be an idiot and write the stuff down where someone could find it) he decided that the potion part would probably create the least amount of problems for him. It would be hard considering the fact he didn’t know jackshit about the potions Dream needed, but whatever. It was the easiest one on the list.

Since the Slime Man wouldn’t be interacting with anyone the entire day he decided that it did not matter what he looked like and left his hair messy. He threw on a t-shirt and pants, barely looking at what he chose. It didn’t matter, he ended up with his “Yeah, I’m a gamer” t-shirt anyways. He had so many versions of the exact same shirt it was concerning. Not that he was special. I mean, look at Tommy.

He went into his workstation room with all of the brewing stands, worktables, and furnaces in it. It was the first room in his base since he could always craft something quickly. There were a couple of basic potion ingredients, but the shit Dream wanted made he would probably need some stuff from his storage chests which were in the room below.

Well, he could always start by making awkward potions. Even though they were useless until adding other ingredients, they were the stepping stone for all innovation. Or so people told him. Either way, he’d just make them awkward first and then pull out his potion book that seemed way too advanced for a basic crafter like him.

Not that he was ever a basic crafter to begin with. No, he was someone you would call a God at crafting--that and smelting, enchanting, and food related things too. Literally.

The awkward potions were finished brewing so he collected them in his arms and almost dropped every single one of them when he heard a pounding his door. He swung open the door, expecting someone like Sam--or god forbid Dream standing there, but no. It was only Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo. No one that could pose a threat to him.

“Howdy!” Charlie exclaimed, dropping all of his awkward potions on the ground. He almost hoped that they would break on impact. This was not a very good time for people to be visiting, and he would rather destroy all evidence of the crap he was pulling for their resident green teletubby.

“Hey Char-ley,” Tommy greets, and Charlie cringes on the inside. Such a horrible imitation of his accent. Tommy steps past Tubbo and Ranboo so he’s in the front, and he peers past Charlie to get a look inside, “What are you doing in there?”

“I’m not really doing, more of trying, and failing,” Charlie tries deflecting. Making potions isn’t incredibly incriminating, but still. Better safe than sorry, really. That’s his motto. A lot of things are his motto actually, and the majority of them are for his self-preservation. Not that he likes to address that part of himself.

“Doesn’t really answer my question,” Tommy says, and crosses his arms, “You hiding something?”

“Well I guess you could say I’m being po-shunned, from creating potions,” Stress-punning. His favorite. To be honest, Tommy hit the nail on the head for once. He was hiding something. A lot of things. His past, his person, and his to-do list, to be exact. It’s just that potions weren’t something he didn’t need to hide exactly. Charlie raises his eyebrows to exaggerate the pun, and the others groan. Perfect.

“We could help,” Ranboo says from the back. If Charlie hadn’t already raised his eyebrows, he would raise them again. Not that he didn’t doubt their skills per-say, more of the fact Ranboo willingly offered himself for the task of potion-making. A grueling one that left you smelling of blazes for days. Whatever the reason for Ranboo offering his and his friends' services, Charlie started coming up with excuses in his head to politely decline them. None of them were good, unfortunately. “I’ve picked up a little potion-making skills from Technoblade.”

“I’m willing to help only because I want to show off my epic potion recipes to the three of you,” Tommy says. Again, if he hadn’t raised his eyebrows, he’d raise them again. Tommy didn’t really strike him as the type of guy to really deal with potion making, especially in the recipe category. Charlie wondered if that meant original potions or just improving (worsening) already satisfactory potion recipes.

“Uh, no, no, I’m good actually,” Charlie tries to block off the entrance to his house, but Tommy just slides underneath his arms. Sneaky bastard. “I already have this book…” He trails off as both Ranboo and Tubbo also enter. In his head, he continues, that fucking sucks and I don’t understand half of the instructions and rules of.

“Books are shit. It’s best to learn from experience.” Charlie takes that into consideration. It’s probably true, I mean, how else were potions invented? It’s not like they were just found and then reverse-engineered. Or maybe they were, Charlie wasn’t completely sure. It was different for every server, really. Tommy scans Charlie up and down for some reason, but then he continues,“Wait a second, can you even read?”

Before Charlie can even voice his offense, Tubbo speaks up. Charlie had almost forgotten about him. “I feel like we’re getting off track here,” Tubbo says, eyeing everyone in the room warily. “Charlie, if we help you with your potions will you help us?”

“Well, I don’t really want your help in general, but sure.” Charlie shrugs. He wasn’t really willing to get in another favor situation, but it hopefully wouldn’t be a super big deal. Charlie could see it in Tubbo’s eyes that he wanted something from him, but Charlie wasn’t sure what. He couldn't offer much other than his high quality puns (and godly abilities but those were a secret tubbo had no clue about), “What am I going to do? Say no?”

“You could say no,” Ranboo points out.

“Fair enough.” Charlie said, “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t break my brewing gear and you’re good.”

Tubbo poked his brewing stand, “This is what you’re using to brew your potions?”

Charlie acted offended by putting his hand over his heart and gasping. “What’s wrong with it? It gets the job done.”

“It’s falling apart, dude,” Ranboo joins in. Charlie takes a closer look at it. Okay, maybe it needed a little fixing up. But the only reason it was in that shape was because of experimentation. It adds character.

“It works just fine as it is, thank you very much,” Charlie replies. He would stick his tongue out at them but he wasn’t a child unlike many people had called him. He wouldn’t stoop to Tommy levels of immaturity.

“What kind of potions do you need to make anyway?” Ranboo asks. He gestures the book sitting next to the stand, “I mean, what do you need them for? I’m assuming you know the basics.”

Ah, the question he had been preparing for. “What do you need them for?” A classic, really. Interrogators, take notes. This is how you do it. He pushes away doubts, and comes up with the most basic excuse out there, “You never know what might happen. I’m just preparing for future events that may take place,” Which is pretty true. He was preparing for things to happen, it’s just that he’d be the one causing them. He excused it with the thought that it cut out the middle man of expectation and unease since you knew when they’d be happening.

Ranboo nods, and then Tommy speaks, “Seems like a paranoia response, honestly.”

“It’s not paranoia!”

“Whatever you say, big man,” Tommy shrugs, and digs through the chest besides the brewery stand. “We should probably make more brewing stands if we want to help.”

Charlie wasn’t sure if he had the resources for that kind of thing, but then he remembered his storage room below. Ah, his storage room. Most of the shit from his previous adventures was in that room, which was a lot. “Sure, but you could also just mix the ingredients together for me too.”

“What kind of potions are you making that you need to combine ingredients?” Tubbo asks from his spot. He was leaning against the table the brewing stand was on which made Charlie kind of concerned it would collapse, and not because Tubbo was heavy or anything. No, it was more because the table was crafted by one of his friends and gifted it to Charlie, which was very kind, but it was also kind of terrible. The only thing it could support was the bare minimum. Table construction aside, it brought Charlie back to the task at hand. Potions, right.

He went over the list in his head and then repeated it to Tubbo who had a pen and paper out, probably to write down the potions he needed to craft, “Invisibility, swiftness, regeneration, healing, harming, strength, fire resistance, night vision, slow falling, and then there are the more obscure ones which are the ones I need the help with-”

“There’s more?” Ranboo asks, and Charlie realizes they’re all staring at him. Yeah, that’s probably more than usual, even more than in just preparation for some unknown event that might take place in the near future.

Charlie chuckled in nervousness, “Yeah, there’s more.”

Tubbo gaped, “Do you even have the stuff for this?”

“Sure I do. Anyways, I also need to make luck, which I know is only for fishing, but if you add a ghast’s tear it makes it more general, levitation, and another 2 or more. I don’t want to overwhelm you guys.”

“Overwhelm?” Tommy asks, “Fucking hell. You need, like, the entire collection of potions. Even Technoblade doesn’t have this many potions.”

“Maybe he should,” Charlie jokes.

Despite the fact that the bench trio seemed to be disturbed by Charlie’s sudden need for many potions, they helped Charlie brew the potions without much objection. Every now and then, Tommy would interject with his sudden and brand new idea about what they could substitute and replace in some potions, but mainly for Charlie’s fear of getting poisoned, the majority of them were shot down. It didn’t stop Tommy from brewing them anyways, and then testing them on himself. He spent more time laying on the floor in agony than actually helping.

Soon enough, most of the potions were finished. Charlie had to admit, it did take much less time with others. It made him feel guilty when he remembered that they weren’t actually helping Charlie, they were just indirectly helping Dream. He wondered how Tommy would react if he knew, and then he thought about it more and decided he’d rather not know.

It felt dirty turning others against their morals, even indirectly, and several times Charlie had to remind himself why he’s doing it. He’s protecting the others Dream had threatened, first of all. That was the most important. Second of all, he was protecting himself. The things Dream knew… Charlie had no idea how he figured it out. It wasn’t common knowledge. Thirdly, there were the indirect threats to his possessions. He could replace lots of it, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more to it than that.

When they finally figured out the levitation potion, Tubbo spoke, “Alright, I think we’re done. Right guys?” He looked to Tommy and Ranboo who both nodded. Charlie didn’t blame them. It seemed like they’d be smelling of power and blaze powder for weeks from the sheer number of potions they had made. Tubbo smiles at the other’s agreement, “Okay, since we’re all in agreement, I think it’s our turn for a favor.”

“What do you need?” Charlie asked with his most sun-shiny voice. It was hard to put gusto behind words you were terrified to ask. He didn’t they were going to ask for much, but still. Even though no one could compare to Dream (thank god), favors were sometimes just as bad as blackmail, depending on how much loyalty you had.

“Well, you had all those books, right?” Tubbo asks, and Charlie wonders where this is going. He nods, and Tubbo continues, “We were wondering where you found them. We want to do our own research for a project.”

Charlie almost sighs with relief. Books? That’s it? What was he expecting? These were a bunch of children. It’s not like they could do anything extreme to him. “Sure, I actually have my own library. It’s on the third floor, right below my storage room.” And while he didn’t want to really show it to them since it would be hard to explain how he got so many books in the first place, they did help with the potions. It wasn’t a particularly “fair” trade, but still.

“You have your own library?” Tommy asks, “Seriously? I swore you couldn’t read.”

“I’m offended that you thought that,” Charlie says. “Come on, I’ll show you it.” He gestures them past his bedroom and to the stairs. He felt uneasy showing them it. What did they need them for? They approach the door to the library and Charlie stops them all before they can open it. “What type of books do you need? I’m going to be honest, it’s kind of a mess in there. Barely organized.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ranboo reassures, “But we need some books about… uh… it’s kind of general? Just books that could tell us more about gods and whatever. So if you have those, that’d be great.”

Charlie freezes. He definitely has those books. They’re at the front of his library because they were the first thing he wanted to learn about. It was necessary in the Jschlatt battle, when he first became a God, and when he banished Grizzly. He doesn’t think they’d be able to connect the dots very easily, but still. He didn’t want to have to explain why he had so many books about the topic (and still doubted that gods existed), and also have to explain the correlation between him and a lot of the signs they talked about in the books.

“Uh, maybe,” Charlie started, already trying to come up with excuses and plans in his head to execute, “Like I said it’s a mess, so you might need to scour. Actually, it’s such a mess that I should pick up a couple of things inside. One second.”

He opened the door and closed it behind him with his foot when he entered the room. It smelled like mildew and old books, obviously, and he tried to scan the bookshelves as quickly as possible to find the books he needed to hide.

He spots two of them, and then jumps and hides the books when he swears he hears the door opening and closing, but when he looks back the door is shut as always, and nobody’s in the room with him. He lets a sigh out, and continues going down the line of bookshelves as normal, picking a couple and putting them in his inventory. By the time he’s finished, his entire inventory is stuffed with books.

He removes a floorboard and dumps them in. Again, he hears the door open and close, but no one’s in the room with him. Maybe he’s cursed or something. He replaces the floorboard quietly and goes back to the rest of them.

“You took an awful lot of time in there,” Tubbo says pointedly. He’s squinting at Charlie and it makes him unnerved. It’s not like he saw Charlie taking the books and hiding them, did he?

“Yeah,” Charlie laughs again, “It was, uh, pretty messy. But it’s good now.”

Charlie then remembers another task that Dream needed done sooner than later. Fuck, he’d have to get it done after they left the library. This was such a long day already.

~*~

“It’s messy my arse,” Tubbo says, “I’m going in. It’s just books on shelves, how could it be messy?”

“Hey, let’s not invade others' privacy,” Ranboo tries, “Plus, he’ll see you. And then he’ll kick us out and this whole thing will be worth nothing.”

“Who said he’d see me?” Tubbo asks, pulling out an invisibility potion. “We’ve been crafting these the entire day. He won’t notice one missing.” Ranboo starts shaking his head, but Tubbo starts downing the potion. His body fades from view and makes Tubbo squirm. He despised invisibility potions and the nausea he got from them afterwards, but it was worth it this time. He hoped. Maybe Charlie actually was just cleaning up his library, but it wasn’t likely. No offense to the guy, but his whole house was a hazard, honestly. If he seriously cared about what they thought about his house, he wouldn’t have let them in it in the first place.

He slipped inside the room and spotted Charlie who he swore looked at him when he entered, but he was distracted by how breathtaking the library was. It wasn’t huge by any means, no he’d seen larger. It was just the way it was put together. There was a table in the center of the room with books scattered around on top of it, and there were bookshelves lining the walls and surrounding the table. He had no idea how Charlie had found all of those books in the first place, but it didn’t matter.

What did matter was the fact Charlie was not cleaning up the room. He was taking books from the shelves and putting them in his inventory. Tubbo followed him while he made his rounds around the room, and only then did he realize what Charlie was doing. He was only taking the books that they had asked for.

Tubbo almost wanted to be excited he was right that Charlie was doing something, but then he realized that Charlie was doing something. Why? What was the point? Just to make their jobs harder?

He left the room when Charlie started hiding them under a plank. When he got back to his friends he drank a cup of milk so that they could see him, and Ranboo jumped when he suddenly appeared in the room.

“You took an awful lot of time in there,” Tubbo says pointedly. He squints at Charlie, hoping he’d cave under his glare.

“Yeah,” Charlie laughs again, “It was, uh, pretty messy. But it’s good now.”

Fine, be a liar. Tubbo couldn’t care less. “Sure. Can we go in now?” Tubbo asks.

“Be my guest,” Charlie opens his arms and then opens the door for him. Tubbo tries to put on the same expression he wore when he entered earlier, but he’s not sure it works. Charlie’s looking at him strangely, which is fair, he supposes.

“Motherfucker,” Tommy breathes, “Where’d you get all these books?”

Charlie shrugs as if it’s not a big deal, “You know, strongholds mostly. They have a ton of books in their libraries.”

“A stronghold?” Tubbo asks. What's a stronghold?

Charlie waves him off, and Tubbo huffs. He wasn’t a child. He could have things explained to him and still understand, “I guess you guys wouldn’t know about them. But I got them from other servers mostly.”

Tubbo just hums in confirmation. He gets Ranboo and Tommy and they look for any books relating to the subject, and Tubbo just barely ignores the will to look underneath the floorboards, but Charlie was watching from the doorway. He said it was just so they didn’t vandalize his collection, but he could swear it was more than that. He wouldn’t have hidden the books in that case.

Tubbo was just starting to find the other books interesting, when Charlie kicked them out. Something about needing to mine before sundown. Whatever.
Tubbo would be back.

~*~

Technoblade always despised this part of having a fireplace. Sure, the cozy atmosphere was worth it, but having to go out in the freezing tundra to cut down a bunch of trees for firewood was excessive. He should really get a netherrack fireplace, but Philza seemed to think that cutting down trees was stress-relieving. Technoblade had too much pride to agree that it had cut down (ha-ha) the blood demands a lot, actually.

Not that it mattered a whole ton, the demands always skyrocketed in the nighttime when there were mobs to mow down, row-by-row. No matter how much Techno insisted there wouldn’t be many because of the torches he had lit his property up with-

You can always find more
Since when has that stopped you?
It’s more of an adventure that way
E
You can’t avoid-

Nope, no way. He was ignoring the voices for the night. The calls for blood would only be answered if he encountered a mob during the monotonous task of cutting down trees. It would be a good intermission, he admitted, but still.

He swung the axe back and hit the tree again with a satisfying thunk. He pulled it out of the tree and counted in his head the number of times he’d need to hit it again before it crashes into the woods. From there he could cut it into sections and cut it up into even smaller sections for firewood. Why did he do this at night again?

Because you couldn’t stand a freezing home
Philza was cold
Blood for the blood god!
You were putting it off the entire week

Techno rubbed his temples, pausing the axe swinging. “I get it, chat. I was a procrastinator yadda-yadda. Now shut it.”

He arched the axe again, ready to take another swing when the crack of a twig snapping interrupted the process. He almost fell over from the sheer amount of “Blood!” chants. God, the smallest things set them off. “It was probably a rabbit or something, chill.” He tried calming, but they were set on it.

Not bunny, human
BLOOD
Doesn’t matter what it was just kill it
Spy spy spy spy spy spy
Y’all I’m pretty sure that was a person
KILL IT
RIP that creature it’s about to be slaughtered by the blood god
Of course we know it’s a person, dipshit-

“What do you mean, person?” He muttered. He put the axe in his inventory and searched for the twig that broke to try and chill the chat out. He took out a torch and wandered through the trees, relieved to find nothing within the radius that the sound had come from. “See? Just a rabbit.”

He tried to tune the chat out when returning to the tree he had been cutting down, although an extremely hard process, and took his axe out of his inventory to continue chopping down the tree, but then--particle effects. He spotted them out the corner of his vision. Techno would recognize the slightly transparent light blue swirls anywhere.

The chat went crazy, several calling for blood, others wondering who it was, it didn’t matter. Techno grabbed the milk from his inventory and threw it in the general direction of the swirls too quickly for the person to dodge. Milk usually needed to be ingested to dispel the effects of potions, but for invisibility, it depended on how long the potion had been in use. Generally, it at least made the person somewhat visible.

As the person faded into view, they started to run away. Techno grabbed the back of their white shirt and pulled them towards him, earning a startled cry from the person.

“Y’think you can just run away?” Techno asks. He pulls their face into the lights so he can see them better. Their brown hair and odd shirt are illuminated in the light. “What were you doing sneakin’ around?”

The chat screams as they realize who it is, causing Techno to almost drop the man. Their words overlap-

Hold on a second guys-
Is that-
What is slime doing-
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
Why is Charlie-
E
That can’t be-

“Heyyyyyyy, Techno,” Charlie awkwardly waves, “Fancy seeing you here?”

~*~

Dream didn’t like to reminisce. It wasn’t his thing. He always planned for the future and the only reason to be contemplating the past would be to think about how he could use the previous events to his advantage.

But sometimes he thought about the past for no other reason than to think about it. He had no sentimental attachments, of course he didn’t, but still. Sometimes thinking about the way his older brother baked him cookies on rainy days despite his status, or the way his mother hadn’t yet started comparing him to other children, it warmed him a little.

The interaction with Charlie prompted the memory of when his mother first explained what his brother was. He hated reminiscing. He did, really. But the way his mother so delicately explained why the name DreamXD carried so much power without making him feel like an idiot--well.

Dream didn’t have much to do in the prison but reminisce at this point.

Chapter Text

“This is so dumb,” Ranboo warns. “We’re not breaking into Charlie’s house just because he didn’t have the books you needed.”

“The books we need,” Tubbo corrects. He knew that convincing them both of it would be hard, but they’d be able to see it’s for the greater good. The motives outweigh the actions, right? Plus, it was suspicious that Charlie hid the books in the first place. What was in them that he didn’t want them knowing?

“All I’m saying is that maybe there’s a reason he ‘hid’ the books.”

“I literally saw him take the books and put them beneath the floor,” Tubbo argues, “It doesn’t matter. He won’t notice them missing or anything.”

“We literally just left his house like-” Ranboo looks at the clock on the wall, “-A couple hours ago. He’ll be back from mining by then and I’m terrible at being quiet, dude.”

“Are you guys still arguing about this?” Tommy asks, walking into the room again after taking a bathroom break, “We’re not going, right?”

“I’m trying to make him see that!” Ranboo throws his arms up, and Tubbo huffs.

“I technically own the land he lives on so, I mean, how much would it be considered breaking and entering?”

“Does it matter?” Ranboo stresses, “Me and Tommy have gone through this whole thing before man. It doesn’t end well.”

“That was my fault. He doesn’t have anyone to report to unlike George did-”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Tommy says, “I think it makes it more of a crime, actually. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

“We aren’t going.” Ranboo decides. “I’m not getting roped in with this--you’re going too far this time!”

Tubbo steps back from Tommy and Ranboo and glares. He was getting upset over this? Really? Out of everything, this is where he draws the line apparently. Well fuck Ranboo. He turns his gaze to Tommy, “You’ll come though?”

“Big man, I’m fine with the other stuff but-”

“Fine,” Tubbo’s gaze hardens. He doesn’t want to hear the rest of it, whatever excuse it is. It doesn’t make the situation better. “I’ll get the books and be back in like an hour. We can read about them then.”

“No,” Ranboo says, “I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. You’re getting too-” Ranboo hesitates, like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing or offend Tubbo. As if he hasn’t already, “-obsessed.” He finishes. “I hate that you’re deciding this is the most important thing right now. You’re ignoring the facts that disprove Dream’s ‘quote’ or whatever. It’s like you’re grasping at straws. And when was the last time you spent some time with Michael?”

Tubbo sputters. This isn’t fair. It’s not fair at all. He hasn’t been prioritizing this at all. He’s been prioritizing the safety of Snowchester, actually. It’s all for the greater good. It is. “That’s not fair and you know it! It’s not like you’ve been doing any different.”

“I know that Tubbo, which is why I’m stepping out,” Ranboo retorted. “I love you man. I just can’t be… included in this.”

“I’ll still be here,” Tommy adds in quietly.

Tubbo stared at them. Really? Was he seriously going too far? Or was Ranboo just overreacting? Tommy was staying. Tommy wasn’t leaving. He just didn’t want to rob Charlie’s house. He still had Tommy. He opens the door and steps into the chill of spring, it doesn’t matter. He can ignore it for now. The moonlight shone on his face and he quietly muttered, “I’ll be back.”

He doesn’t have to deal with this stuff right now. He has things to do. He shuts the door behind him and heads to Snowchester. Originally, he was going to stop at his house first to get an invisibility potion so he wouldn’t be seen, but he wouldn’t have the other two people coming with. He could be quiet without needing a potion to protect him.

The plan depended a lot on chance, actually, now that Tubbo thought about it. Would Charlie be back yet? Would he be awake or asleep? Would he sleep with the door open or closed? (that last one was important because he needed to walk past his room to get to the library)

He stopped on the path. Ranboo did have a point. Maybe this was too far. Were the books worth all this trouble? Did the god Dream mention actually exist? Was he only referring to DreamXD-

He started walking again. He took a couple of breaths. He was psyching himself out here. It’s fine, it’s fine.

The temperature drops as he enters Snowchester, and he pulls his hood up. He’ll be in and out, super quick. He approached Charlie’s house even quicker, and almost knocked on the door to see if he was home. Sure, it would let him know, but he could do it even if Charlie was home. It was only books. And it was late, he would be asleep at this point.

He opens the door, cringing as the hinges creak slightly. Prime, what if he was found? What would he do? He closes the door behind him so as to not let any cold air in. He may be robbing Charlie’s house, but he was no monster.

He stood in the entryway for a second. Where did he go from here? He went past Charlie’s room the last time, he remembered that. The staircase was right there, and from there he just went down the stairs, past the storage room, and then the door on the left was the library.

Maybe he should’ve come up with the plan beforehand.

Oh well, he was in the house now. He crept into the hallway, wincing everytime he stepped on a creaky floorboard, or accidentally tripped over a loose nail or something. He didn’t remember this being so loud the last time, but it was probably placebo. Either way, he was lucky that Charlie hadn’t woken up yet, which made him wonder…

Nope, the bedroom door was closed when he walked past it this time. It probably meant he was asleep then, and he wasn’t going to check on the man just to make sure he wasn’t aware of what was going on just outside. Not even the curiosity would get him to open the door.

He hesitates when walking past either way, and starts descending the stairs when the sudden urge to open the door comes back in full force. He holds back a groan as he goes back to the door. Tubbo’ll just open it a creak, just to peak in and check that Charlie is actually asleep. That’s it. It will be quick, and then he can shut the door and pretend he didn’t just spy on a man sleeping.

He twists the door knob and pulls the door open slightly, just enough to see the bed in the center of the room. It’s empty. Pulling the door open further, he steps in the room. It looks the exact same as when he passed it earlier, the sheets on the bed completely strewn about, a couple of shirts or pants at the bottom of it.

“Where is he?” Tubbo asks no one in particular. He cranes his neck to look at the clock above the door. It’s super late and he should have definitely gotten back from mining by now. Tubbo isn’t sure if he should feel relieved or concerned.

He then starts to question if it would be weird to look through Charlie’s stuff. He pauses and decides he’ll just look in the closet. It would only be clothes, unless he was hiding narnia or something, but he doubted it. It’s fine. Charlie was hiding something, Tubbo was sure of it, which cancels out any of Tubbo’s (maybe) weird actions.

He pokes his head in the closet and he isn’t really surprised. A bunch of the same shirt and pants, some weird toga getup, and other solid colored t-shirts or sweatshirts. It’s kind of weird that the guy keeps some of his tools in the closet, especially since they seemed to be blocking something, which would make it hard to get to.

Wait a second. They were blocking something. It was clear a couple of the tools were missing, random blank spots along the wall, but whatever. It was still clear they were covering something up. He grabbed them all carefully and sat them on the ground, revealing a beat up worn out leather book. Tubbo debated whether to grab it or not, and then decided “Why not? I’m already fucking around in his closet anyways.”, and took it off the wall, delicately holding it in his hands. There was a binding on it, so Tubbo untied it and flipped through the book.

He landed on a page that was completely scratched out, letters too destroyed to be able to tell what they had previously said. Undisturbed, Tubbo flips to the first page instead. There’s barely any writing on it, a basic introduction written in rushed handwriting.

They suggested I start keeping a journal. Makes sense considering the situation we’re in. I don’t think I’ll write in it often-

Tubbo chuckled. The rest of the worn out pages claimed differently.

-but they claimed it would be good for me. I only crafted this until they crafted some of their own. We’re in this shithole together, no reason I should be the only one with a journal. I also just refused to be the only one who wrote their feelings dow-

The passage cut off suddenly, the next letter unreadable as if something disturbed the person who wrote in it. He turned to the next passage to understand what happened.

It was another sinkhole. Nothing we aren’t used to by now. Fuck Jschlatt, the least he could do is make it interesting for us. Oh shit I just realized if he finds these--

I think the best thing would be to write in another language. Just to be safe.

Sure enough, the rest of the page was in the same language used for enchantments. Tubbo didn’t know enough to decipher the rest of the page (and book, he realized when he looked through it later), but this was enough to chew on for now.

Who wrote this? Why did Slimecicle have it? What did Jschlatt have to do with the sinkhole that was also just apparently normal for the person that wrote it?

Tubbo was super confused, but he could look at it later and try to figure out what it says then. For now, in the inventory it goes. He placed the tools on the wall again hoping they were in the same place as before, and left the bedroom.

He heads down the stairs and past the storage room, noticing a pair of armor missing from one of the stands. So Charlie was out. Tubbo really wasn’t sure where he could be at this hour, but he was mostly relieved now that he could walk around without being caught.

He enters the library and spots the floorboard Charlie hid the books beneath easily. It’s poking out of the floor, and the nails are haphazardly nailed in.

He removes the board just as easily and looks at the books below. There’s way too many for him to carry out, and also way too many for Charlie to not notice missing. Instead, he just takes a couple from the top and bottom and puts them in his inventory.

He goes up the stairs again and passes a clock in the storage room. Tubbo still hadn’t heard Charlie come back yet, which was a little concerning. He pauses for a second. Maybe he should… wait for him? To come back? Just to make sure he’s alright, of course.

And then he remembers it’s the middle of the night, and he has an inventory of stolen shit. No, he can worry about what happened to Charlie later. He’s sure he’s fine.

He’s out of the house by the time his communicator buzzes, so he sighs and digs it out of his coat pocket, breath fogging up in the air. He almost drops it when he reads what’s plastered on the screen.

Slimecicle was slain by Technoblade using [Orphan Obliterator]

~*~
Techno takes out his sword from his inventory, the handle heavy with enchantments. He pushes Charlie against the nearest tree and pushes the sword against his throat, “I’ll ask you again. What were you doing?”

The chat cheers, calling for blood and punishment, but some are confused. He’s not sure about what.

“I was just walking through,” Slimecicle coughs out, “I just got back from mining.”

Technoblade rolls his eyes. That was the best excuse he could come up with? “And you were walking through… with an invisibility potion?”

“I was terrified of you, man!” Slime puts his hands up, “Have you heard the rumors about yourself?” Slime was hesitating. Each sentence he paused in the middle, probably coming up with some sort of lie.

Kill him!
He’s a liar and a spy
Wait but why was he spying in the first pla-
Blood for the Blood God!

“You were trespassin’. With an invis pot. Lurkin’. And you claim to have been ‘just passing through’?”

“Yes,” Slime stared at him. He didn’t flinch when Techno dug the sword a little deeper.

“Empty your inventory,” Techno demanded.

Slime pulled out a stack of iron ore, a couple of diamonds, a pickaxe, three stacks of cobblestone, and diamond boots. Techno scoffed. Even if someone was “just mining”, they brought along torches and a sword at the very least to defend against mobs. “All of it,” Technoblade added, and Slimecicle stared for a second.

“That is all of it!” Slime protested.

He has more
Guys why aren’t we asking why he was spying in the fir-
LMAO WHY IS HE SO BAD AT LYING
Did he really think he could get away with this?
E
Why isn’t he bleeding yet??? PRESS HARDER

Technoblade kicked him, and Slime let out a yelp of pain. “I said all of it. You can’t seriously be this big of an idiot.”

“Fine!” Slime says cautiously, “Just don’t kick me again.” He empties out the rest of his inventory which includes the rest of his enchanted diamond armor, a netherite sword, a shovel, a couple pieces of bread, two golden apples, a crossbow, and a couple more invisibility potions.

Technoblade quirked his eyebrows. Yeah, not that Technoblade had any doubts Slimecicle was lying in the first place, but this just sealed the deal. “You were using these for what? Mining, you said?” There’s an air of humor in his voice.

The chat screamed for Slimecicle’s blood. “Teach him a lesson,” a lot of them said.

“I-I was using them for something else earlier,” He tried pleading.

“Well, no one messes with the Blade and gets out of it alive,” He studies his nails like he’s distracted. Slimecicle doesn’t seem properly intimidated yet. “So now I’m going to have to kill you.”

~*~

Charlie seriously underestimated this mission. Couldn’t he have just spent the night mining, like he told Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo he would? It was dumb. So dumb. At the least he got some iron--which was promptly dumped on the floor after Techno had found him. So it didn’t even matter that he had gotten some progress on the tasks (prime he hated he had caved to them), he just ruined it all by trying to kill two birds with one stone.

Great idea Charlie, spy on the “Blood God” (as the other gods had affectionately named him after cursing the man (some claimed that they were blessing him with the voices. really???)) after just getting a haul of iron and diamonds. Awesome. Really, really great job there.

He was an idiot, Charlie knew this. So why did he decide to listen to the thought in his head that basically went, “Let’s check up on Technoblade right now. Like right now. With all of your shit on you. You can get your information needed to get the task done, and then you can come back later to actually complete it.”

Prime. He really hated that thought.

“So now I’m going to have to kill you.” Technoblade finishes.

“Hey! Let’s not get too, uh, caught up in our ideas here?” Charlie curses. Seriously? He was just letting his impulses control all of his actions tonight, wasn’t he? He wanted to slam his head into the wall, but he was currently tied up. Not literally, but a sword to the throat was close enough. He was quick to backtrack though-”I mean, it’s not like I’m dangerous or anything. Look at me! You took all my stuff so-”

“You need to learn not to trespass on others' property. You’re lucky I’m not doin’ worse considering you were definitely spyin’ on me.”

Now, technically, Charlie couldn’t “die”. He literally wasn’t able to. But because of the mortal form he had taken on, he couldn’t tank a bunch of damage (he could probably take more hits than the average mortal even in this form, but still). He would get stabbed and bleed red blood. And his wound wouldn’t quickly heal over. The only thing Charlie did not know was if he would actually die or not.

There are two things that could happen. One: Techno would slice his throat and he would bleed out a bunch but never actually die. Totally compromising situation. He’d have to explain why he didn’t die, and that was pretty hard to do with his vocal cords sliced. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to heal back from that, which would mean he would have to shift back to his natural form to heal. And he definitely wasn’t going to be doing that with Techno staring at him. So, and even though he hated it almost just as much as number one, he hoped option number two was how it went down. Two was as follows: Charlie dies immediately, no hesitation. He respawns with two lives left on his mortal body. Just as bad, honestly. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he died the third time--and he had several questions about it, to be honest.

Either way, they have a bad outcome, and Charlie doesn’t care for dying in general. So he chose to plead his way out of the situation, “Listen, I know that the voices are probably-”

Instead of the grip on the sword loosening, the sword dug deeper into Charlie’s neck. At that point, it probably should’ve been drawing blood, really. Instead it just hurt like a bitch, so Charlie just clenches his teeth and pushes the pain aside. It would be nothing compared to dying. “How do you know about the voices?”

Okay. That is news. Did not everyone know about the voices? He thought it would’ve been obvious what with the constant mumbling Techno said to himself and scolding people no one could see. He guessed he was at an advantage here. He was at the meeting when the gods had decided Techno’s fate. It was the only meeting he had attended in ages, but it was mandatory. Apparently people were having “visions” about his potential as an agent for the gods which hadn’t happened in who knows how long. They had just decided on the voices at the time instead of going through the whole ritual. Supposed to “help” or something, Charlie wasn’t paying attention. He was just trying to ignore everyone and everything.

He was just trying to ignore them. He didn’t like facing them after…

This was not the best time to reminisce. Where was he? Oh yeah. His advantage. Well, thinking about it now, it wasn’t much of an advantage at all. He had pretty much skipped on the details and just voted against the voices during the meeting and that’s it. Well, shit. He was going to have to bluff his way through this, wasn’t he?

“You were talking to no one in particular in the woods,” Charlie stutters. This lie was going to have to do it, “I just assumed it was something in the head.”

“I could’ve been talkin’ to myself,” Techno defends. Now, Charlie didn’t want to dig himself into a deeper hole here with the lying, but this was 100% better than trying to explain why Techno shouldn’t kill him.

“You were second guessing your own thoughts?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I did-” Charlie gasps when the sword actually pierces his skin this time, drawing blood. “Okay let’s just get back to the-”

“Tell the truth and answer the question,” Technoblade specifies. Charlie laughs, some blood being coughed up while he does. Tell the truth? He wishes he could. Really. Everything would be so much easier if he could just tell them all why he did the things he did, or knew the things he did, or had the things he did. “What’s funny?”

“I have been telling the truth the entire time,” Charlie lies through his teeth. Technoblade winces and releases one hand on the sword to clutch one of his ears. “Dude! Seriously, how has no one noticed you have voices?” Probably not the best thing to say, but Technoblade’s distracted by whatever is going on inside his head to notice the dig or the more important fact his grip slackened. Charlie is going to take this chance.

He drops to a crouch and runs past Techno, grabbing a couple of his things on the floor as he runs, not paying much attention to what he grabbed. Sadly, Charlie forgot that he was going up against one of the greatest fighters out there (one that was cursed by the gods no less), and suffers the consequences.

+He feels like he was suddenly punched in the stomach, slowing his pace. He then starts to feel a warm, heavy, liquid running down from his stomach. He stops and looks down.

That was no punch.

A sword is protruding from his stomach, slickened with blood and some sort of guts. At that realization, the pain worsens. Charlie’s breath picks up, and the sword is taken out of his stomach. Some blood shoots out when Charlie takes a breath, and his legs give out. He lands on the ground of the forest, grass tickling the back of his neck. God, the pain. It was so hard to breathe--and oh the pain. It was so hot. He saw himself touch the wound with his fingers, watch them come away with sticky red blood.

“Fuck,” He breathes, but he shouldn’t have done that. His breath is coming in short gasps at this point, and anything not used for that is wasteful, but he spares himself the time to flip off where he thinks the general figure of Techno is.

“You--shouldn’t--run--away,” Techno says. It’s so echoey. Why is his voice so echoey? And why are some of the words missing from his sentence?

He shudders, feeling the blood from his stomach pool around him. The edges of his vision darkens, and a ringing in his ears begins. He closes his eyes.+

He wakes up to the void. Fuck, he died. He feels his stomach, almost thinking there’d still be a hole there. From what he’s heard, he’s supposed to receive a piece of paper with the information about his death on it. How he died, how many lives he has left, et cetera et cetera.

He stands there for a second, waiting for the piece of paper to appear, and thinks about what this means. At least now he knows what happens when he’s in his mortal form. Thinking about it for a second, of course he knows what happens! How could he have forgotten? He had created the hardest server in the world for prime’s sake! He’d never died, always shifting into his god form seconds before finally blacking out, but Grizzly, Condi, and Bizly all had. They had died plenty of times. They never talked about what happened when they died, which he supposed was expected.

He wonders if they ever got sheets of paper.

Charlie wakes up in his bed, inventory still full of the items he’d taken back before getting stabbed. Huh. Weird. Must have been some kind of effect of being a God. Speaking of which, he wonders if he has any less lives on his mortal form. He never got that piece of paper. Although his previous friends had never run out of lives, and they had definitely died more than three times. He’ll just assume it’s the same for him too.

From the clock on his wall, it’s still the night, albeit early morning.

What was the harm of sleeping in for a few more minutes?

~*~
Dream wished his “friends” could pick up the pace. It may have only been a couple of days (he assumed--he burned his clock and Sam hadn’t replaced it yet) but if he were in their positions he would be back in a house with enchanted armor before he could sit down.

He wondered if that meant Slimecicle was refusing to do his tasks for him.

He would wait a couple of days but if he didn’t get some sort of sign--

Dream sat down on the cot in the corner of his cell, lava reflecting in his irises. He snapped open a notebook and got out a quill.

He had his ways of getting what he wanted, even if that included being patient. Dream could be patient.

Chapter Text

Apparently, sleeping for a couple of minutes did cause harm because Charlie had barely closed his eyes when there was pounding on the front door. He groaned a very slow and long groan. He was going to kill somebody. He literally just died, and someone was already coming to check up on him? How’d they get here so fast?

“Fuck,” He moaned, and sat up. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and pants, nothing like what he’d usually wear. Although his “usual” was just the same joke t-shirt he wore everywhere. He wondered what happened to it when he died, actually. Did the void get it? See, this is when paying attention to shit would’ve actually helped him here. Not that he needed the shirt back, he had tons of others, but still. Maybe he could look it up in his books later? He’d have to dust them off but I mean… the shirt would be worth it.

Did he need to do anything before greeting the person at the front door? Maybe put on some shoes or something, his feet were freezing despite the boring grey socks already on his feet. The pain of living in ice hell, he supposed. You can never be warm.

He slipped on some red tennis shoes that were in his closet and he stood up. The pounding on the door sounded again, more impatient this time. Charlie didn’t even call to them to let him know he was coming since he was still pissed they couldn’t have just let him sleep.

He took as much time as possible before opening the door.

“Tubbo,” He stated. The boy was shivering despite his heavy jacket, and he looked up when Charlie threw the door open. Of course it was Tubbo. Probably concerned or something, just checking up on him like a good neighbor.

Suspiciously like a good neighbor. How’d he get there so quickly? Unless he was on a midnight stroll. Weird anyways. A growing boy needed his sleep.

“Charlie!” Tubbo exclaimed, “I was worried you weren’t going to answer the door,” He scratched his arm and chuckled.

“Yeah, I wasn’t,” Charlie said. He didn’t add anything else. He honestly just wanted to go back to sleep and that’s it.

Tubbo looked at him, “Technoblade killed you?” Charlie froze. He forgot that it showed everyone who killed him in the chat. Was he going to need to lie? Or just evade the truth? He hopped, foot to foot.

“Why don’t you come inside? It’s freezing out there,” Charlie’s teeth chattered, and he rubbed his arms. Evading the truth it was then, although not freezing to death was probably considered self-care rather than avoiding conversations, especially considering he literally just invited Tubbo inside and he was going to have to answer questions no matter how much he put it off.

“... Sure,” Tubbo said cautiously, and entered Charlie’s house. Charlie led him the opposite way of his bedroom and to the dining area. It wasn’t anything too special, although it was nicely crafted and stocked to the brim with food. Very on brand, notably because of some of the goop he had yet to clean up. Some sick joke: his mortal form was a slime hybrid. Very funny play on words there.

“Do you want like... tea or something?” Charlie asked, already getting out the kettle. Tubbo shook his head, and Charlie started heating the water over a fire anyways. He was awake now, he might as well make it pleasant with some tea.

“Technoblade killed you,” Tubbo repeated, this time as a statement rather than a question.

“He s-laid me to rest,” Charlie cringed at his own pun. He was thrown off his game tonight, but it at least made Tubbo chuckle a bit.

“Same old Charlie, even after losing a life,” Tubbo muttered quietly enough it made Charlie unsure he was even supposed to hear. “Wait, how many lives do you even have?”

“Uh,” Charlie faltered. “Two. Two lives left.” He wasn’t really sure how the whole lives thing worked to be honest. It was different between every server. The majority had the same three lives rule, but it had been so long since he had been affected by it. That and the fact both of the servers he had “died” on didn’t have any everlasting effects (if you didn’t count trauma. again, fuck you jschlatt).

“That was your first time dying?!” Tubbo yelled, “Dude this must be like, traumatic or something then! Where’s the sheet of paper you got?”

Ah. There it was. He never should’ve let Tubbo inside his house to begin with. Nowadays his conversations always ended in lies. Straight from the brain and to the mouth, hot and fresh without any prior thinking. He had no sheet of paper, and he knew this. So into the lies it was.

(He pressed down the dumb part of him that laughed at the “traumatic” part of Tubbo’s comment. He wasn’t sure what was considered trauma, but considering the shit he’s gone through, dying this time was honestly the least of his worries. It was just a learning experience really.)

“Sheet of paper?” Charlie asked, voice involuntarily getting a pitch higher. “I threw it out when I respawned. I didn’t look at it.”

Tubbo stared Charlie down, and the kettle whined from the fireplace. Avoiding Tubbo’s suddenly terrifying gaze, he poured the hot water into two cups and put a bag of tea in each of them, stirring both. He sipped from a cup and coughed when it burned his tongue.

Why was Tubbo so goddamn intimidating now? It was like his gaze would just pull the answers out of Charlie. He slammed the cup down on the counter, getting some of the hot water on his arm making him hiss in pain, while Tubbo jumped from the sudden movement. Well, Tubbo would not be getting the truth tonight. He will make sure of it.

Tubbo spoke slowly, “You didn’t throw it out.”

“What if I did?” Charlie challenged, mostly as a joke. This could very swiftly turn into an argument, and he wasn’t looking forward to it if it did.

“You wouldn’t have. It’s your first life gone and has all of your stats on it from your life. No one throws it out.”

Well that seems super cool and honestly makes Charlie upset he never got one. He would’ve liked to see the number of times he killed a zombie or slept in a bed. Not that he even knows what the stats would be, but he would like to think that’s what they were. He should ask someone that doesn’t know the specifics of his situation later when he won’t be questioned about it. Surely not everyone read the comms?

“Well, I did.” Charlie pushed the tea into Tubbo’s hands despite the small protest he gave. “Drink that, you’re shivering.” And he was. Charlie wasn’t sure why, but he was seriously shaky, and the tea inside the cup sloshed around even though Tubbo was only holding it. He tapped his fingers on the counter and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Tubbo to take a sip.

He drank a little bit and stuck his tongue out, “This is not the best,” He sat the cup down on the table.

Charlie rolled his eyes, “It’s good for you. Those are the proteins you’re tasting.”

Tubbo hesitantly took another swig, “I think it’s better the second time,” But he still places it on the table and makes no move to grab it again. Charlie sighs, his efforts are never appreciated around here.

He crosses his arms and waits for Tubbo to say something. When he doesn’t, Charlie scratches his arm. It was fine, Charlie could start the conversation again. “What else did you want to know? I kind of want to go back to bed, no offense.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry, I forgot how late it was.”

“It’s fine. I’m awake now anyways. What do you want?” He repeated, ignoring the fact that Tubbo just forgot how late it was. That wasn’t the best sign for his sleep schedule.

“Why did Techno kill you? Actually-” Tubbo held up his hands, “-Why were you near Technoblade in the first place?” He leveled Charlie with a gaze, “Not calling you a liar, but you said you were going mining.”

“I did go mining,” Charlie said. He was tempted to pull out the ore from his inventory to prove it but he knew that people lost their stuff when they died. It sucked he couldn’t have grabbed the other stuff he had dropped when Techno caught him, but the ore and pickaxe (and potions) was good enough. He worked his ass off for that pickaxe, and it was the only one he had no duplicate of.

“And you somehow ended up at Techno’s?” Tubbo questioned, raising his eyebrows. “It’s the middle of the night--technically early morning. How did you get to Techno’s?”

“I…” This was the worst possible situation. His mine was nowhere near Technoblades house, and he really had no reason for going past it. Would Tubbo know that he was lying about the location of it? They weren’t that close. He wouldn’t know, right? “I was done mining, and I had to walk past Technoblades house. He-” Charlie rubbed his neck, the sharpness of the sword still fresh on his mind. “-pinned me against a tree when he found me. Put a sword to my neck.”

And while it was leaving out the major details of how he voluntarily drank an invisibility potion, lied to Technoblade’s face (which he definitely picked up on. charlie wasn’t an idiot), and somewhat aggravated him with the mentioning of knowledge he shouldn’t have known--

It was a basic description of what happened. Tubbo didn't need to know specifics.

“What happened then?” Tubbo said after a pause, “I don’t see a scar on your neck.”

Charlie didn’t think to mention that his body wouldn’t have scars. It was mortal, but it was healed somewhat quickly. Death was no different. So even if Technoblade had sliced his throat (a disturbing image--he could only imagine what it felt like and could barely even think of the visuals), you wouldn’t be able to tell. “He stabbed me through the stomach when I tried running.” He thought of the blistering pain and labored breaths, “Not going to lie, I regret it. Even if he was going to kill me either way.”

“A Wilbur death,” Tubbo laughed and then stopped just as quickly as he started. “I shouldn’t have made that joke. This is just a strange situation.”

“It is,” Charlie agreed. They stood like that for a couple of seconds, Charlie leaning on the counter while Tubbo sat at the table in the center of the room. “Finish your tea I made you, dude. I’m serious. It’s good for you.”

“Fine,” Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Are you going to steal your stuff back from Techno?” Tubbo took a sip, this time not making a weird face when drinking.

“I-” To be honest, Charlie didn’t even need his stuff back. He was wearing his average gear and that netherite sword was just crafted. He had duplicates of it and they were better than the stuff he’d lost. Not that he didn’t want it back (that was still 24 diamonds and two netherite ingots!), but it wasn’t worth the effort. He’d just die again probably, and then have to be extra careful as to not lose his “final” life. This did present a good opportunity though. He wouldn’t have to bluff his way through mining, or excuse why he needed more diamonds if everyone thought he was just mining for the stuff he lost (and in reality he’d be mining for dream), “No,” He settled on, “I’d rather not die again, which I’m pretty sure would happen if I tried to steal my stuff back.”

“So you’re going to mine to replace everything?”

“Yeah,” He didn’t notice the weird glance Tubbo gave him, “It’s not like I have duplicates.”

Tubbo chuckled and shoved the cup away, “I’m sure.” It was said with a sarcastic tone, but Charlie wasn’t sure why he’d doubt him in the first place. It’s not like he showed his storage room off to them when they visited earlier, they had no reason to know about the second pair of armor he had. Instead of responding though, he just took the cup back and poured it in the sink. Tubbo obviously wasn’t going to drink it.

“Is that all, then?”

Tubbo nodded, “I guess,” And stood up, “I just came over to check on you really. That’s it. I know what it’s like--even if we didn’t die the same way.”

That’s right, Tubbo had been executed at a festival he decorated himself. Prime, the things these kids went through on this server.

Charlie walked Tubbo to the door and waved when he left. He hoped Tubbo wasn’t lying when he said he was going to sleep, the dark circles under his eyes were enough proof he needed it.

He was just about to go back to sleep when he realized he wasn’t tired anymore. The conversation woke him up just enough it would be annoying to go to sleep at this point. Perfect, just what he needed, an all-nighter.

He decided the best thing to do would be to go over whoever Dream’s other “associate” is. It didn’t need excessive brain power, which was something he did not have.

He pulled out a piece of paper and drew up the people on the server. Who could it be?

He grabbed a quill and started thinking about the most likely people. Punz was the most clear option, what with his previous ties to Dream, but from what Charlie knew he only worked with Dream because he was getting paid. There was no way Dream could be paying Punz at this point, and even if he was able to be delivering shit to him it’s not like Dream actually had anything to give. Besides the revive book, but there was no way he’d give that up just for loyalty.

So it wasn’t Punz. He wrote down Punz’s name and crossed it out, just so he’d remember later. He’d probably pass out sometime today and forget all of this.

Maybe George? He was close to Dream, wasn’t he? At some point they were close. He wasn’t sure that George had been doing much though, with all of his sleeping through important events. He wrote George’s name down with a question mark next to it. It was a possibility, even if George wasn’t great at being a part of important events.

There’s Sapnap, who was definitely friends with Dream at one point, but he was pretty sure they had cut ties. He didn’t bother writing his name down.

Possibly Technoblade? He wasn’t sure. Technoblade owed Dream a favor he thought, but it couldn’t have been too big. Allying himself with Dream was a far cry from like, “I’ll get you icecream later since you saved my life.” He wasn’t totally sure how loyal Techno was in the first place, so he wrote down Techno’s name with several question marks.

He couldn’t think of anyone else for the moment which sucked since he was pretty sure none of these guys were in cahoots with Dream. He was stretching facts to fit theories which was never good.

Fucking Dream, dude.

~*~
Tommy had started dozing off on his couch waiting for Tubbo to come back, despite his insistence to stay awake. He was very concerned that Tubbo would get caught and get thrown out or something. He was also worried for how he’d react when he realized Ranboo was being serious when he said he was stepping out.

Ranboo just shook his head when Tubbo had left, muttering about how it’d blow up in his face one way or another and left the hut. His exit would’ve been cooler if he hadn’t banged his head on the way out, but Tommy let it slide.

Either way, he was worried about when Tubbo realized that his own husband abandoned their plan.

He jerked awake when his communicator buzzed.

Slimecicle was slain by Technoblade using [Orphan Obliterator]

Well that woke him up. Tommy sat up and rubbed his eyes, thinking it to be an error from the communicator. Techno killed Slime? Why? How? Charlie had said he had been going mining. Maybe Tubbo was right and Charlie was hiding something.

How the hell did he end up at Techno’s and die?

To be fair, anyone that even crosses Techno is as good as dead anyways, but the fact that Charlie was over there in the first place is what confuses him more.

His communicator buzzed again.

Tubbo_: going back to charlie’s to check up on what happenes
Tubbo_: happened
Tubbo_: you got the notif too right?

Tommy paused. Where was Tubbo? It would be more of a pain for him to walk all the way back if he was closer to Tommy’s.

Tommy typed out his message and hit send.

TommyInnit: I did.
TommyInnit: How far are you? You’re not walking all the way back to his house are you?
Tubbo_: nope just got out when my comm buzzed
Tubbo_: i’ll report in a sec when i’ done

So all Tommy had to do was… wait. He could wait. He’d done it in the prison, he could do it again.

He could do it again.

He pat his hands on his legs. At least Tubbo was safe. That was good.

He blew out a puff of air and leaned back on the couch. This sucked so bad. He ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

Tommy hated waiting.

~*~

“He didn’t drop the stuff he picked up before running, Phil,” Technoblade said over call. Their communicators were upgraded to be able to do other things besides reading chat and chatting. He was thankful for that, he didn’t want Phil to come over so late (early?). The chat had gone crazy when he killed Slimecicle, but went even crazier when they realized he hadn’t dropped the items he stole back before getting stabbed. None of them knew why, but some were rambling about--weird theories. That’s what he’d call them for now. “Why didn’t he drop the stuff?” He repeated.

“I’m…“ Phil hesitated. He knows something, Techno decided. “I’m not sure.”

“You know why, I can tell.”

“It’s probably not best to discuss over a call,” Phil started. “It’s nothing you should even-” He paused again, making Techno wonder what he was originally going to say, “-It’s out of our hands. Do you really want the shit that bad?”

Techno laughed, “No. That’s not why I’m upset. It’s just-” He stops. It was so weird that Slime didn’t drop anything. Was it a glitch? Did DreamXD fuck up his code or something? “-It’s weird, is all.”

“It is,” Phil agreed, and switched the topic to something unrelated. Preening, Techno thought, but his mind was distracted. The voices claimed Phil knew something, something Techno wasn’t sure he would keep secret. Why would Phil keep it a secret if he knew?

Could he even trust Phil?

~*~

The news was in. Charlie Slimecicle had died by Techno’s graces. Dream laughed when Sam delivered the information, and he laughed now. It was fresh, he knew it by the look on his face when he entered. Probably happened--what? A couple hours ago?

Prime, Charlie was not doing well. He wasn’t sure how he “died” if he was a god, but based on the books he’d read so long ago it was probably while he was in his mortal form.

Well at least now he knew that Charlie was doing what he asked of him for sure. Perfect, he grinned from under his mask, it’s all going to plan.

Chapter Text

“Tommy!” Tubbo exclaimed, throwing the door open, making Tommy jump up from the couch. He dozed off again, great. Tubbo flinched when the door slammed against the wall, making a minor dent. “Sorry about that but I have a lot to talk about!”

Tommy waved him off and tried to sit up a little more, “It’s fine. What’d you find?” He yawned and stretched his arms up.

Tubbo closed the door behind him and sat down next to Tommy, “I have so much. There-there are these books I told you he hid, right?” He dumped a bunch of books on Tommy’s lap, “And that’s interesting enough, but look what else I found!” He pulled out a very obviously deteriorating book and he flipped it open. Tommy was barely able to scan any of the pages, and he was pretty sure his sleep-deprived brain just wasn’t processing it hard enough because he couldn’t read the letters. “And then, there’s the whole Technoblade thing. It doesn’t really relate to--are you falling asleep right now?”

Tommy opened his eyes. He was just having a long blink, that was all. Tommy shook his head, “Nope! Wide awake as ever!” He concealed a yawn with his fist, “I was screaming then. Just quietly.”

Tubbo nudged him, “You’re totally falling asleep.” He looked at the books on Tommy’s lap, “It’s fine big man. We can do this tomorrow after a good night’s rest.”

“Aw, come on man!” Tommy threw his hands up, “I am perfectly capable of performing coherent thought processes. Tell me about the books!”

Tubbo shook his head, “We’re finishing tomorrow. After a good sleep.”

“It’s like 2 AM, man.”

“Your point? You at least need some sleep.”

“You are such a hypocrite,” Tommy shook his head, but stood up to go to his bedroom anyway. Tubbo followed him and Tommy collapsed on the bed, taking up the majority of it. Tubbo sat on the edge, just barely avoiding getting knocked off when the bed jostled with Tommy turning on his side. “I can’t just sleep with someone watching me, you know.”

“Then move over so I can sleep too,” Tubbo shoved Tommy aside, receiving a shriek in return. Tubbo just laid on his back next to Tommy, staring at the ceiling.

Tommy rested his eyes, comforted with his friend near. “I’ll probably forget by morning, but what happened at the Slime man’s house?”

Tubbo hummed quietly, “I’ll go into more detail tomorrow-” Tommy grunted, “-but when I got there I was super scared he’d call me out for, you know, robbing his house and stuff. I don’t think he noticed.”

“No dip, he fuckin’ died,” Tommy muttered, “It’s a traumatizing process even if you’ve died before.”

“He said it was his first life,” Tubbo said, Tommy thinks he must have sat up or something because the bed squeaked in protest to something shifting. He was too tired to open his eyes and check. “I don’t understand why he would throw away the piece of paper if it was his first life though. So I think he’s lying about that.”

“Wait, he threw away the sheet of paper?”

“He said he did. I doubt it. He must’ve not liked what it said on there because he was adamant that I didn’t see it.”

So that was weird. Tommy’s brain was literally half-asleep at this point but even then he still realized that you don’t just throw away the paper that contained the majority of your information on it. So much of it was extremely useful, if not just straight-up interesting. And half of it wasn’t even revealing! If Charlie really didn’t want Tubbo to see it, well, it was just weird. Tommy hummed in response.

“He made me tea and it tasted weird. I thought he was trying to poison me,” Tubbo laughed, “But he seemed genuinely concerned about me. Makes me almost feel bad.”

“Almost?”

“I mean,” The bed creaked in response to Tubbo (probably) shifting again. “I feel bad for using his hospitality like that after just robbing him. But on the other hand-” Tubbo’s voice shifted in pitch, “-they’re just books and it’s for the greater good. It’s a moral dilemma.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed.

Tommy fell asleep to Tubbo’s mumbling, and at that point he couldn’t really make out anything the boy was saying. He wasn’t sure Tubbo could either, to be honest.

He didn’t dream of anything for once, which was greatly needed.

Tommy woke up to some birds chirping outside his window, sun filtering through his window. He stretched and groaned. He would like to just fall back to sleep, but at this point he had registered himself being awake, and thoughts were already forming in his head. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, no matter how hard he tried.

He rolled over to face Tubbo’s still form, chest rising and falling slowly. Tommy admired the peaceful moment for a couple of seconds, taking in how silent it all was.

And now he was going to ruin it.

He shoved him, “Tubboooo,” He sang, “Time to get up.”

“Fuck you,” Tubbo murmured, snuggling deeper in the sheets, “Go back to bed.”

“I can’t believe you’re the early riser out of the both of us,” Tommy sighed, “I guess I’ll have to take your place as the best getting-upper in the world.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tommy sat up and tore the sheets off of Tubbo, “Although now you probably do. Get up.”

After some more bickering and shoving, Tubbo finally stretched and stood up from the bed, “I’ll go make some breakfast or something.”

“It’s fine, big T,” Tommy said, pulling on his classic red and white t-shirt. “You don’t know where half of my shit is. It’d be easier for me to make eggs.”

Tubbo groaned, “I hate eggs.”

Tommy made a face, “Well, what do you want?”

“Pancakes.”

“I’m not making you pancakes, Tubbo.”

“But they’re so good.”

“I don’t even have the mix for pancakes.”

“Wait, you were going to make them with the premade stuff?” Tubbo shook his head, “I can’t believe I’m friends with you. Just make the eggs and I’ll get ready.”

Tommy shook the insult from him and left the room. The premade batter was just as good as hand-made pancakes, he was sure of it. Either way, he wouldn’t be making pancakes. Just eggs. He entered his “kitchen” (like two counters, a cooler with ice in it that he switched out every now and then (most of the stuff in there was soggy), and a fireplace to cook things on) and cracked his knuckles. Time to get down to business.

He grabbed six eggs from the cooler and wiped the water off of them. He then opened a cabinet to grab a frying pan, buttered the pan and cracked the eggs over it. Tubbo came out with a notebook, rubbing his eyes. Tubbo grabbed the books they left on the couch earlier and dropped them on the counter.

“Ey!” Tommy reprimanded, “That is my proper cooking space you’re in.”

Tubbo stuck his tongue out, “Too bad,” And opened one of the books titled Immortal Figures; Volume 1. Well, it was probably titled that, but Tommy didn’t get to read the cover fully before Tubbo had opened the book. He flipped to a random page, totally covered head-to-toe with writing, the other page with a simple diagram of the human body. “Uh, Tommy?”

Tommy had turned back to the eggs, scrambling them in the pan, “What?”

“I can’t read this. The text is too small.”

“Read the pictures then, or something. I’m cooking right now, mate,” But Tommy turned again to face Tubbo anyways, who was holding the book upside down, then sideways, then rightside up-- ”Turning the book won’t make it easier to read.”

“You can’t prove that,” Tubbo said, turning the book again.

Tommy sighed and grabbed the book from him, “Give me that,” and he flipped to the first page, which was spaced more evenly and had 3 pictures total on it, and then he pushed the book back to Tubbo, “Start there, and then you can figure out what the fuck that page said later.”

Tubbo hummed in response, probably only skimming the page, while Tommy grabbed two bowls to put the eggs in. He poured the eggs into two wooden bowls he found in a cabinet and grabbed two forks and stuck them in both bowls, “Pick your poison,” He said, gesturing to the bowls right next to the pile of books.

Tubbo grabbed the one nearest to him, (the one with more eggs in it. tommy frowned) and started eating, “Even though this is the first volume I still have no idea what it’s talking about.”

Tommy grabbed the other bowl and stabbed a piece of egg with his fork and ate it, “Pick a different book then. You’re not bound to this book just because you picked it first.”

“Mmm, no. The other ones won’t make sense either if I skip this one,” His words were muffled and distorted by the egg in his mouth. Tubbo’s eyes skimmed the page and he frowned, “This one’s annotated, look.” He flipped the book around to show Tommy a sentence that was underlined twice, with words squished at the top of it saying, “this seems irrelevant”. The sentence read as follows, “Proper immortal figures usually have a respectable attitude and persona.” Tommy laughed at it.

“As if Charlie knows a god that’s not like that,” Tommy jokes, “We don’t even know if they exist, and the book and Charlie are debating what their personalities are like.”

“Wait, Charlie wrote that?” Tubbo squinted at the page, turning the book towards him again to get a better look at it.

“I’d assume so. He owns the book, yeah?”

“Hm,” Tubbo hums in response, writing something down in the notebook he took out of his room earlier. Tommy resists the urge to make fun of him for it, but he knows that Tubbo’s taking it seriously, which means Tommy is going to take it seriously. Or try to, at least.

The rest of the time is just spent with the both of them flipping through books, not reading everything thoroughly, until Tommy stops and reads, “will this happen to all of us?”, which was written next to the sentence, “... After living for several hundred years, or thousands, those who are still living happen to forget things from their youth. Still quite relatively young for a god, but extremely old for mortals. It’s only natural at that point, and it’s a sign that the immortals are maturing.”

Tommy doesn’t think it’s particularly incriminating of individuals, I mean, Ranboo had memory problems all the fucking time, but it’s weird the way the annotation used the word, “us.” He couldn’t prove Charlie actually wrote any of the annotations, and it could’ve just been a weird word choice he didn’t mean, but it was still weird. He pointed it out to Tubbo, who wrote something down in his notebook again, and then said, “That’s funny. It kind of reminds me of Charlie. He doesn’t remember a lot of things from when he was young.”

“He doesn’t?” Just another thing to add to his “reasons Charlie’s a cryptid” list. It’s very long, and half of the reasons are just related to the fact Charlie called Vikkstar “icky vicky”.

Tubbo shook his head, and continued reading.

Tommy started getting bored of this book, so he picked up Curses & Enchantments; for advanced learners. Tommy was no advanced learner, but he saw no harm from picking up the book and reading it anyways. He didn’t find it very interesting either, except for the part that somehow tied in with the god topic.

Curses are very powerful when used correctly, in fact, one can even bring down a god with the right curse. It’s hard to do, extremely hard, but it can be done. Not by just any one though, they have to have been especially observed to have the correct traits to use the power of the curse. After the curse is spoken, they are usually dead for a very long period of time, until the right time when they can resurface in another server, this time, as a mortal.

Apparently, Charlie had found it interesting too, because he underlined the paragraph six times and drew a circle around it. He’s not really sure why the man would be interested in killing a god, especially when he was so sure they didn’t exist at all, but it wasn’t his business. Or, it kind of was, but he shouldn’t even have access to these books in the first place, so it wasn’t in that regard his business.

They continue scanning the books, learning more about what it’s like to be a god, and they were seriously in-depth with it. The notes in the books only added to previous confusion though, adding more questions to the pile. Some of them referenced Jschlatt for some reason? Other notes talked about “how inaccurate” some of the information was?

With the notes becoming more of correcting information rather than questioning it the deeper they went, he wondered if it was Charlie who wrote them at all. Surely he doesn’t know that much about the topic, or he would’ve agreed with them about the god-hunt in the first place. (gruesome name for it, but tommy couldn’t think of any other name to call it).

Eventually, both of them became bored (more like overwhelmed), and decided to focus on the journal instead. Tubbo couldn’t figure out what the language was, and Tommy recognized it as the enchantment table language.

Tubbo wanted to get Ranboo to translate, but Tommy had to painstakingly explain that Ranboo was serious about the leaving thing.

It didn’t matter anyways. Tubbo left the hut to find Ranboo despite the explanation and Tommy’s protests.

Tommy left the hut with him. It would suck to have to convince Ranboo, but maybe it would be worth it in the end. Maybe.

~*~

Technoblade admired the netherite sword, shimmering ingots combined to make a useful weapon. It could never replace his own, of course, but the enchantments were actually pretty good on it. Perfectly carved in, and the tool was quite well crafted. He never expected such craftsmanship from such a clutz.

The voices chuckled at the insult. It was fitting for the man, Techno decided. Honestly he was lucky that Techno had given him such a quick death, but he owed it to the enchantments on his own sword.

“Techno,” Phil sighed, interrupting his thoughts, “When will you stop--whatever this is?”

Techno huffed. Not this stupid ramble again. Techno wasn’t sure why Phil couldn’t understand how strange the situation with Charlie was, and looking at the items he had deposited before dying could lead them to the answer. Probably.

Technoblade turned to look at Phil. And right in the moment, he looked so old. He had creases between his eyebrows, his feathers were mottled and displaced from the L’manburg explosions, and his eyes had the tales of a thousand men in them. Techno knew, reasonably, that Phil was only what? Thirty-something? It was just the fact his exterior seemed to reflect something it shouldn’t.

Dadza looks so sad
Why is he so hellbent on defending Slimecicle?
Dadza needs a break
Imagine if Phil was actually like a hundred years old lmao
I’d believe it
Can we go back to the sword staring?

Technoblade blinked and the vision of a sad, defeated man, centuries old at this point, vanished from his mind. In front of him was his friend, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, emerald earring dangling from one of his ears instead.

“It’s important,” Technoblade started, placing the sword on his table for a second to face Philza more head on, “I have so many questions. Like, why was he spying in the first place? And again, why didn’t he drop his items when I killed him?”

“Are you absolutely sure he grabbed items before dying?”

“Yes, Phil. I looked at the items he had dropped on the ground and memorized them-”

“Of course you did,” Philza snorted.

“-and when he died he didn’t drop the iron or diamonds or the pickaxe that was missing from the pile,” Techno continued, “It’s just,” He leaned on the counter, pushing his hair back with his hands. No braid for today, he was too exhausted for that, “It’s confusin’, alright?”

“Maybe it was a glitch,” Phil tried, and then hesitated before speaking again, “I mean, who’s the admin again? Might’ve fucked with his code when he entered the Dream SMP.”

Techno snorted, “I’m sure.” But he did wonder if Philza was right-

LIAR
Why is Phil lying about this?
It’s not a code glitch if anything it’s-
E
LMAO IMAGINE LYING TO THE BLOOD GOD
I thought we could trust dadza ;-;
AHHHHHHH-

He clutched the side of his head. He got the message loud and clear, Philza was lying to him. But why was the question at hand now. Why would Phil lie to him?

Phil cringed at the sight of Techno battling the voices in his head and interrupted them, “Listen, if you want to know that much… why don’t you just go ask him about it?”

And then it was decided. Technoblade would find where Charlie lives, corner him, and threaten him to answer his questions. Philza had laughed and only said to just ask him. No threatening would be necessary.

Technoblade put Orphan Obliterator in his inventory anyway. You never know what might happen.

He wasn’t entirely sure where to find where Slimecicle might live, but then he remembered Ranboo must. They hung out a bit that one time, right? This was like playing the telephone game but worse, Technoblade remarked in his mind.

Technoblade: Ranboo do you know where Slime lives
Ranboo: you’re not going to like
Ranboo: kill him again?

Techno rolled his eyes, yeah, this made sense, he supposed. Kill a man once and when you ask about where his location is people get suspicious. Circle of life.

Technoblade: I just want to visit him
Ranboo: and i just want you to know how suspicious that sounds
Ranboo: but you promise you won’t kill him?
Technoblade: Yes.

He had to wait a couple of minutes before getting a response.

Ranboo: he lives in snowchester in the hobbit hole thing
Ranboo: I think he’s home onw
Ranboo: *now
Technoblade: Thank you

So now Technoblade was on his way to Snowchester, and he spotted the house fairly quickly. It was built into the side of a hill and actually looked quite homey. He wasn’t sure what he expected when finding Charlie’s house, but he didn’t think it’d look so… nice? He wasn’t sure what the best word for it was. Either way, he walked up to the front of it, hesitating before knocking on the door.

Technonervous
Socially anxious Techno LMAO
It’s just charlie dude he doesn't even take himself seriously
Blood for the blood god!
Wrong time dude we’re just here for answers
Any time is blood time
Technoblade anxious about interrogation?

It brought a smile to his face about how un-seriously the voices took the situation, “Shut up,” He muttered, and continued with what he was doing before. Slimecicle wouldn’t answer his questions with good answers probably, but maybe he could offer something to him? Services in exchange for information?

That better work.

Techno rapped his knuckles against the door. It would work, he assured himself.

~*~

Trying to explain the situation to Ranboo was more uncomfortable than Tubbo had previously thought it would be. Ranboo kept looking at him weird, and it made him feel bad about roping him in after he obviously wanted nothing to do with it, apparently, from what Tommy had told him.

But, eventually, Ranboo caved after saying he’d do it the next day. Tubbo didn’t sleep very well, excited (anxious?) about what was in the journal. He tried calming himself down because he was sure he’d overhype it or something and it would just turn out to be some normal diary about bland things like… breakfast foods. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped it was something interesting based on the first part he read.

So now, here he was, back at Tommy’s hut with Ranboo (and Tommy, of course), barely well-rested. It was fine.

Tubbo flipped open the journal to a random page and pointed to it, “What does this one say?”

Ranboo adjusted his tie before leaning over to grab the book from Tubbo, “I think that’s the middle of a passage,” He turned to the page before it, “Yeah, this is where it starts so--”He paused, eyes widening, “... what?”

“What? What does it say?”

“I’ll read it word for word here, ‘Jschlatt came by again today. Targeted Grizzly this time with a command block and a button. And dogs. A ton of them. He forced Griz to press the button and it killed all of the dogs. I really hate that man, I mean, he obviously knew that Griz’s main goal was to just get some dogs, right? He had to have known. And if he didn’t before, well, he definitely knows now. Prime, one of these days I will kill him and show no mercy.’”

Tubbo sat in silence. That was… confusing, to say the very least about it. The book was obviously weathered and old, the only thing keeping it together was an inscription carved in the book’s cover. He didn’t know what it said, but he was 90% sure that the book would literally be ashes without it.

So why was Jschlatt mentioned? He couldn’t have been around then, and even if he was, how would he get a hold of a command block? Only admins and such had access to items like that, and Jschlatt was dead now. Admins couldn’t die.

“Are you sure that’s what it says?” Tubbo asked, maybe it was just mistranslated or something?

“No that’s definitely what it says. I re-read it and everything,” Ranboo said, flipping to another random page ahead of this one. “Oh--this one is super dramatic and it’s the middle of a passage. Listen to this, blah blah blah and then--’And then I shoved him in the lava. He burned just like we had. I don’t want to say he deserved it, lava is a painful way to go, but let’s just say it was something I should’ve done long ago.’ and then they describe that and then Jschlatt comes back? And the person says this, ‘I really thought he was gone when we pushed him in, but I guess Schlatt can’t just fucking leave us alone. And so I took the knowledge from the books and I cursed him, revoking his powers and killing him once and for all. This time for good. It felt good. The one thing I’m confused about is how I managed to use the curse because-’ and the rest is scribbled out.”

Tubbo let it sink, and then took a breath in, and let it out. A chuckle slipped out of his lips, “What the fuck?”

“Ranboo, you need to write that down. I need to re-hear it,” Tommy said, “Both things. What just happened, dude?”

He was so confused about what this meant. Did Schlatt die and then somehow respawn (what, like 1,000 years into the future with a vendetta against wilbur and tommy?) in the Dream SMP? Another thing, it seemed like the person used the curse Tommy had shown him from the books which was weird because Schlatt wasn’t a god--right?

“I don’t--I’m flipping to the end-ish to figure out what it says,” Ranboo says, somewhat frantically flipping through the pages, “Okay, this doesn’t explain what just happened, in fact I think it kind of creates questions for us, but it says--and this is in the middle of an entry just because there’s a lot of other stuff that’s not important--” Tubbo thought it was important, but he couldn’t read the writing so he didn’t really know, “-anyways, it says, ‘We were summoned to a castle in the sky today by some floating people. Scared the shit out of us, but we’re supposed to go there tomorrow and… I’m not sure. I think they’re going to kill us for killing Schlatt.’ and the entry ends there. I’ll skip to the next one-’I had to convince them that Condi and Grizly were just as worthy of the honor as well. I’m not sharing that just for myself, especially when we all helped kill JSchlatt. I think they liked it-’”

“Wait…” Tubbo interrupted and then trailed off, “Who--who wrote this?”

Ranboo studied the page again, “I don’t think it says it anywhere in the book who wrote it-”

“Why does Charlie have this in the first place?” Tubbo asked, running his hands through his hair, “It’s completely--the journal is full of personal--how did he get ahold of this?”

“This is probably not the best time to mention it, but Charlie seems to fit a lot of the stuff in the other books we read too,” Tommy said, “He shouldn’t-”

“Who the fuck is he?” Tubbo interjected, and stood up, tearing his hands through his hair. “I’m going over there.” He started pacing, “I’m going to go over there, and I’m going to confront him.”

Ranboo stood up and placed his hands on Tubbo’s shoulders, “Calm down.”

“Dude!” Tubbo yells, “How do I calm down? I just found out that this man is a total fraud!”

“We don’t know that,” Ranboo says in a gentle voice, one akin to him speaking to a wild animal. Tubbo found the comparison insensitive, “Listen, how about we wait until tomorrow morning? You’ll be able to think about it more rationally after sleeping.”

Tubbo opened his mouth to argue-

“Just try.”

And so Tubbo layed in bed the entire night, stewing over his feelings. When morning came, he grabbed a couple of the books on the floor and the journal, careful not to wake Ranboo or Tommy up. He wrote a quick note about where he was going so that he wouldn’t worry them, even if they would be able to figure out where he was going without the note.

He left the hut, sun glaring in his eyes. Even if Charlie didn’t write the journal, he had a lot to answer for. He jogged the way there, trying to not drop any of his materials. By the time he got to Snowchester, he was extremely hot from the run and the cold setting was a welcome feeling, even if the chill would stick to him after he cooled down.

He found the hobbit hole as easy as he had the other times and sped up. When he got to the front of the house he didn’t bother with knocking. Tubbo opened the door with his left hand so as to not drop the books and journal, ignored Charlie’s shocked face, and entered the hut.

“Well that was rude,” Charlie started, placing down some tool Tubbo couldn’t be bothered to take a closer look at, “I mean, even Techno knocked yesterday, and he’s like a brutal warrior-”

Tubbo ignored that and slammed the books down on the table. It didn’t matter what Charlie was working on, or had been doing with Techno yesterday even if the man had killed him.

Tubbo looked up at Charlie and stared him in the eyes.

“Who are you?”

~*~

Charlie hates Dream, he decided it. Of course, he’s hated him before today, but that was surface-level hate. Like, mining was shit in itself, sure. His arms and back ached from carving out the underground searching for more iron and diamonds, but now he had to enchant the items and armor too? (He tried not to think about how this was barely the start of what he had to do, about how he still needed to-)

Charlie was very close to just fucking up the enchantments on purpose so that when Dream would use them they would just instantly break or something, but Charlie knew that it wouldn’t work out for either of them in the long run. Charlie knew that Dream knew some things he shouldn’t, like the Grizz situation and the fact that Charlie was a god in the first place, but how much did he know about his godhood? Like, did he know that Charlie controlled enchantments?

He just didn’t want to risk it in general.

Either way, he didn’t want to enchant something for this man, especially when he wouldn't even be using the items until after--

A knock on the door sounded, knocking (ha) him out of his thoughts. He placed the diamond pickaxe on the worktable, making his way over to the door.

The door swung inwards before he could open it, and he froze when he saw who it was, “Technoblade?”

“Slimecicle,” The man said. Charlie could clearly see his sword in its sheath, and he backed up involuntarily. What was Techno playing at? He had a ruffled shirt on, and a red cloak on his shoulders. A gold crown rested on his head. Despite the getup, Charlie knew how informal this was for the man. It scared him what that could mean.

“Just call me Charlie,” He chuckled nervously, “No need to be formal, right?” He gestured to Techno’s clothes, trying to make a simple joke. Techno didn’t smile. This was going great already.

Techno ignored what Charlie just said, “Sorry about, uh, entering before you could open the door.”

Charlie stared at him. And then he started to laugh, very, very loudly. Technoblade, the warrior with no mercy, who shed blood at the command of the voices in his head, was socially anxious. No fucking way. He wiped a tear that was gathering in the corner of his eye from his laughter, and couldn’t believe the fact he was terrified of this man a night before. “It’s fine, man. What do you want?”

Techno seemed uneasy from the laughing fit Charlie just had but continued anyways, “Why didn’t you drop anything when you died?”

And suddenly the situation was less funny than it was a second ago.

Charlie didn’t even know why he kept his items when he died. He assumed it was because he was a god, but it could also have just been a glitch or something, “I’m actually kind of busy today-” He started. He could deflect the situation, at the least, “-and I don’t have time for answering your questions right now.”

Technoblade stared at him, “Still just as bad at lyin’ as you were the other night, huh?” Charlie sputtered, but Techno continued, “It’s fine. What can I do to help with it, er, your stuff you need to do?”

Well, this was bad. Charlie needed to work on a couple of things today. One, enchant the tools for Dream (which he was already doing), two get some gapples (also for dream), and three, carve out a small base below his library (also also for dream. He wanted these tasks done as quickly as possible). Could he let Techno help? I mean, Charlie thought, Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo didn’t question why he needed the potions that much. Although the things he needed couldn’t be as well explained, and he doubted Techno would just immediately accept his lie. He didn’t accept the other ones.

“You can’t,” He finally settled on.

“Oh?” The boar mask covered half of his face so it was hard to tell what his expression was, “I really cannot help with these imaginary tasks? At all?”

“They’re real,” Charlie defends.

“You didn’t seem so busy before I came in.”

“I was enchanting some stuff. It’s not particularly riveting, is it?”

“You weren’t enchanting anything,” Techno crosses his arms. If the boar mask was removed Charlie would think he’d have a pointed look on his face, which makes Charlie squirm under a scrutinizing look. It’s so much harder to talk with someone when you can’t tell their facial expression, leaving it entirely up to the imagination. And if the past was anything to show for his imagination he didn’t want anything to do with it. “Where’s your enchanting table? Or books? How about an anvil?”

How was Charlie supposed to explain he just knew the stuff for enchanting? He created the entire system in the first place! He didn’t need a lot of those things, the power was already in himself. The mending book he got while fishing was helpful, but not necessary. Rarer enchantments were harder, but definitely not impossible.

“I was… debating whether or not to enchant the items,” It was true, to be fair.

Techno let out a snort, “Sure,” And let himself further in, shutting the door behind him, “Listen, I’m kind of busy. So just let me help with your stuff and I can leave.”

Charlie was going to point out how Techno didn’t need to help him at all, actually, but he seemed too attached to the idea to let it go. He sighed, “Well, again, I doubt you could help. But I do need some golden apples. I have the gold, just not the apples.”

“That’s easy. I have some on me right now, one second,” Techno opens his inventory and a couple of golden apples pop into his hands. Charlie barely contains a chuckle, of course Technoblade had gapples on him. Of course he did. “How many do you need? Actually, I have like an entire stack at home. You can have the rest of these.” He tossed them into Charlie’s hands, barely catching them all. “Alright, one thing done. What else?”

He gawked at the man. Really? Just like that? Seventeen golden apples to some random dude who was definitely spying on you that one time? Well, Charlie wasn’t one to decline free gifts, even if it only drew more suspicion to him. “I need something built. Carved, I guess.”

“And that is?”

“Past my last level of my house, I want to build a second--uh, base? I guess you could call it that-” He stumbled a little bit over his words, trying to come up with a reason for it existing in the first place on the spot. His lying has not gotten better, despite how you would think it would. “-It needs a bedroom area and small storage area for food and potions. Nothing super special, I don’t even want it to look nice-” That sounded so weird. If he wanted a second base, he should want it to look good, right? It wasn’t even for him so he couldn’t just- “-I mean, in general, I just want it to work.”

“What do you need it for?”

He paused, “Guests.”

Technoblade didn’t seem to question the answer, and if he did, it was probably hidden by his mask. Whether he did or didn’t, Charlie moved on, and led Techno past his storage room, past his library, and to the stairway that led to a dead end.

“Are you gonna kill me down there?” Techno asked, completely unfazed by the staircase coated in shadows.

“I wouldn’t be able to if I tried,” Charlie joked back to him, even if he was pretty sure he could in the right circumstances. He could definitely kill him if he wasn’t mortal at the moment, but it wasn’t worth dwelling over. “It just looks suspicious because there aren’t any lanterns down there.” He didn’t have any lanterns, but he had a torch so he grabbed it from his inventory and mounted it on the wall, which lit up the rest of the stairs. “Boom. Looks awesome now, right?”

Techno snorted again, “It’s dreadful. You don’t even have a proper room carved out yet.”

“You were the one who wanted to help in the first place,” Charlie shrugged, “Which includes carving out the room with me.”

Carving out the room sucked. He wanted it to be kind of large, but also not incredibly big. He didn’t want it to be tiny, but he didn’t want to have to break 6,000 pieces of stone just to get it to a size that worked. At least he wasn’t working on it alone, because then it would’ve taken ages. Especially with a man that has Techno’s strength (who literally is techno), the work was cut down considerably for him.

“How’d you know about the voices?” Technoblade asked from the other side of the small space they were sharing, making Charlie miss the wall he was trying to hit.

“Are you going to kick me again if I answer the wrong way?”

“No,” Techno responded, “I just want an actual answer this time. No kickin’ necessary.”

“Well, what I told you was an actual answer. You aren’t that great at hiding them, you know.”

Techno hummed, “I guess I won’t be learning anything new today.” His pickaxe smashed into the wall, making a crack erupt from the spot his pickaxe was lodged in. A part of the wall collapsed in response. Techno turned to Charlie after that, “What about your inventory? Why didn’t you drop anything when you died?”

Charlie humms, stalling so he wouldn’t have to answer, “I don’t know. It must have been a glitch that I kept my inventory.” Techno didn’t seem convinced, so Charlie switched the topic, “Well, you asked me some questions. I should get to ask you one.”

Hopefully, Techno would answer well and Charlie wouldn’t have to spy on him to figure out whether or not “Technoblade was loyal” to Dream. Not his words.

“Depends on the question, but sure. What is it?”

“What do you think of Dream?” He cringed as he said it. It was completely out of the blue from Technoblade’s perspective he assumed.

“Well, I owe the man a favor. But otherwise, I think it depends on his motives.”

And that was that. No follow-ups to either question were asked. Charlie fell asleep that night with half of the base completed, and a better opinion of Technoblade that night.

---

Charlie woke up and got out of bed right away. He wasn’t totally sure what he wanted to do today, but he could figure out later. He still couldn’t believe he finished the majority of the base the day before, albeit a bit bare. Maybe he could work on that today.

He walked into the entry room and grabbed a sword to sharpen. The perfect way to wake up, almost cutting yourself to improve the quality of the things you own. Just how Charlie liked it.

Then the door opened, slamming against the wall. The person didn’t flinch, the only thing they did was shift the--hold on a second.

Tubbo was standing in the doorway with some books in his arms, along with a brown book, heavily affected by age. Charlie hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was, even though there was no way Tubbo could’ve gotten ahold of it.

Charlie still wanted to go and check his closet for the journal anyways, to make sure it was still there.

Tubbo entered the room, indifferent to the look Charlie was giving him.

“Well that was rude,” Charlie started, placing down his sword, “I mean, even Techno knocked yesterday, and he’s like a brutal warrior-”

Tubbo ignored that and slammed the books down on the table. Charlie gulped, holding eye contact.

Tubbo looked up at Charlie and stared him in the eyes.

“Who are you?”

Chapter Text

Charlie’s eyes shifted around, avoiding eye contact with Tubbo, “I--what?”

“You know what I mean,” Tubbo refused the man to switch subjects.

“I don’t,” Charlie backed up (probably to not be as close to Tubbo as he was), “I’m the same guy. Charlie Slimecicle. Ha-ha.” He said “ha-ha” outloud with a crooked grin on his face, prime he was nervous, Tubbo could tell. If someone wasn’t hiding something they’d be genuinely confused. Charlie, in this situation, was genuinely nervous.

“Want me to spell it out for you?” Tubbo didn’t take in his reaction before continuing, “You’re a god. The one we’ve been searching for the entire fucking time.” And, boy, did it feel good to say it out loud. So many things clicked into place--the lying, the visiting Dream, the hiding of books--except for one thing. He could worry about it later. Right now, all the pieces were in front of him.

“I’m not.” Charlie stood up straighter (Tubbo didn’t realize until now he was hunched a bit, almost as if trying to make himself smaller?)

“Oh yeah?” This time, Tubbo grinned. He opened one of the books he tabbed, randomly flipping to a page that was marked with a yellow sticker. Ah, a page with annotations. This was perfect for his point. “Let’s see… ‘will this happen to all of us?’ Care to explain that one?”

Charlie leaned over to read the page. Or skim it, it was the same either way. Charlie’s still eyes widened somewhat, before he looked up to Tubbo, “Wait, is this my book?” He picked up the others and read the titles and nodded, “These are my books.”

“That’s not really important,” Tubbos ears flush red. This was embarrassing. He wasn’t going to bring the books that he literally stole from Charlie originally, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He pushed away from the thought that said this was no desperate moment, he was just sleep-deprived and jumping to conclusions.

Charlie raised his eyebrows, “It kind of is. How did you get these?”

“They were in your library,” It was true. It was 100% true. He just left out the part that they were underneath the floorboards and Tubbo was technically breaking into his house when he grabbed them, but like, who needed to know that?

“I never saw you take any books when you guys left,” Charlie mutters, turning his head away. He mumbles something else under his breath before snapping to look back at Tubbo at a terrifying speed, “Hold on--did you steal these?”

“That depends on your definition.”

“I don’t think it does. You stole these.”

Tubbo stared at him. This was the way the conversation was going? Really? Well, he couldn’t switch the tracks that long. Charlie would have to face the truth eventually. And eventually meant now. “We’re getting off track here. Why were you lying about-” Tubbo thought for a second, trying to come up with the best example of one of his lies, but couldn’t think of a specific thing, “-everything?” He finished instead, with a brief “why?” motion from his hands.

Charlie chuckled, and it wasn’t a light laugh he’d heard from the man before. It was darker, like it contained so much more knowledge than Tubbo could comprehend. It made him uneasy, his confident persona faltering for a second, “I’m not the only liar here. Is that why you were in the area when I came back? I offered you tea, dude!”

Tubbo bit his tongue from responding with, “Your tea sucked. It was a fair exchange.”, and instead he just ignored the last comment and replied, “So you admit you were lying.”

Charlie stared at him. “No--I mean, yes? It’s-” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair which messed it up slightly, “That’s the wrong thing to take from what I just said. You seriously stole my books?”

“Why were you hiding them in the first place?” Tubbo bites, “It’s awfully suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Dangerous knowledge comes with dangerous risks.”

“So you were, what? Protecting us?” Tubbo laughs, “That’s fucking hilarious. Those were the most boring books I have ever read, and I still read them! I have dyslexia!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have been fucking reading them,” Charlie growls. Oh shit, did Tubbo just make the man mad? He’s never seen him angry, ever. He would think it would make the man scary, and really, would he be lying to himself if he said it did? There was a glint in Charlie’s eyes that made Tubbo almost want to back down--maybe apologize, even. Key word there: almost.

“Just explain the note then if you’re so innocent!”

“I didn’t write the note! Condi did!”

Tubbo’s heart drops into his chest. And even though he’d already suspected it… “Who’s Condi?”

Charlie glanced at the decaying brown journal still clutched in Tubbos hands. “A friend. It was a previous server relationship. We had grown apart.” Charlie paused for a second, thinking. “He’s not a god either, if you were about to ask.” He quickly added. Tubbo hadn’t even thought of that, but he supposed it was a natural conclusion to make. Just not one he’d make… that quickly. Was Charlie lying about things again? That wasn’t helping his case.

Either way, Condi was mentioned in the journal (charlie wasn’t, tubbo had noted earlier. it only added to his ever-growing theory). One down, two to go.

“Uh-huh,” Tubbo treads slowly. He wasn’t sure how to “bait” Charlie into talking about his other friends (assuming he’s still friends with Grizzly and… bizly?), but he needed to be careful. If Charlie caught on he could just pretend he’s never heard of them and.. Tubbo was overthinking this. “Did you have any other friends besides Condi?”

Charlie eyed him, “Where’s this coming from?”

Tubbo shrugged and avoided Charlie’s gaze, “Nowhere. I’m just curious about it.”

“I’m not friends with anyone anymore,” Charlie looked away, “Tragic tale, really. Also a super boring tale. I think I put someone to sleep telling them about it.”

“But you were friends with people before?” Tubbo clarified, ignoring how depressing this conversation had become in just a sentence.

“I guess--I mean, yeah. Peas in a pod, all four of us,” Charlie gestured with his hands, “We spent everyday living. Griz got us sidetracked so mu-” He coughed, but it didn’t cover up the fact he mentioned Grizzly. Tubbo assumed it was Grizzly, at least, but the nickname came through on this one, making his heart squeeze at the idea that Charlie was fond of the man (totally platonically), and they still got separated. “I don’t remember what I was going to say there, actually,” He said in a sheepish tone.

“You lie… so much,” Tubbo decided to respond. “You’ve mentioned Condi and Grizzly already, who are also in this book-” He points at the brown journal, “-and you’ve lied about being a god, you lied about your books, you lied about the potions probably, I mean, who even knows what you used those for-”

“I haven’t lied. Get it through your-”

“What else are you hiding?” Tubbo suddenly asked. If he was lying about such simple things, what else could he be unreliable about? The Dream visit popped into his mind at that, but he waved it away. It didn’t have anything to do with the situation.

He quickly ducked past Charlie and darted to the stairs, passing his bedroom (it was a mess), feet pounding on the hardwood. A second pair of footsteps echoed behind him and he raced down the steps, past the storage room (with a pair of armour still placed on the armor stand), and past the library. What was he looking for? This was a dead-end, last time he was here, and Charlie ws quickly catching up, muffled yells becoming clearer…
Was that another staircase? Tubbo dashed over to it. It was. It seemed to have been built recently, (of course it was, it wasn’t there two days ago) and instead of lanterns lighting up the staircase, torches were placed haphazardly along the walls.

Not waiting for a sign, he bound down the steps at practical hyperspeed and ended at a door. He leaned over to open it, and prime was the door fancy. Fancy as in, it fit in with the rest of Charlie’s doors, but it was a very stark contrast to the shabby stairs he had just sprinted down. Ignoring the detailed knob, he grasped it and went to turn it when the sound of an ender pearl hitting its target echoed in the cave.

Charlie appeared in front of him, not even out of breath, “It’s time for you to leave.”

Tubbo peered past him, “What’s in the room?”

Charlie ignored that, “I was trying to be reasonable before, but you’ve been ignoring the glaring obvious here, Tubbo. One, and I’m sure someone would have knocked this into your head before, why would a God be here in the first place? What’s the reason? Explain that first.” Tubbo shook his head, this was a flimsy excuse. It could be disproven easily-”Second, if you read the fucking books, you would know they do not need to eat. Sure, they can, but they don’t need it. And what did you see the other night? Oh right, a kitchen!”

Tubbo was shoved up the steps and to the library, “What are we doing here?”

“Give me my books back.”

He hesitated before handing them over. It was fair enough to ask for them back, but it still hurt knowing how much information he was handing back. He placed the journal in Charlie’s hands without looking at him though. It was embarrassing. Kind of. He was sure it was more embarrassing for him, knowing that Tubbo had read his “diary”.

They walked back into the main room, and Tubbo realized it was a sword that Charlie had been holding onto when he first burst in. It wasn’t an important detail, but he was trying to ignore the fact he was being shoved out of his house.

Before shoving him out and into Snowchester again though, Charlie said, “And third, I died. I literally died the other night. You came over afterwards. We all saw the message, didn’t we?” Charlie spread his arms wide, chuckling, “Gods cannot die. I--” Charlie looked away, “I think I would know.”

“But--the books, the annotations--you can’t just ignore all of the evidence-”

It was pointless. Tubbo wouldn’t be giving up, not yet. And Charlie wasn’t clear of suspicion, not by a long shot, but he made semi-good points. Some.

“They were weird coincidences, Tubbo. Now leave,” Charlie finally opens up the door.

Tubbo steps into the freezing air, breath already clouding up the air. He clutched his arms and looked back at Charlie to glare at him.

He let out a chuckle, “This is not over yet,” It wasn’t meant to be heard, but Charlie still paled.

Good. Tubbo would get the truth out of him, whether it took a hundred years or a stupid best friend, he’d get the truth.

Tubbo walked out of there and smiled.

~*~

Charlie laughed when Tubbo left, and ripped his hands through his hair. What was he going to do?

Prime, what was he going to do?

If Tubbo was mad now-- and he was, oh Charlie could see the fury, the betrayal, in his eyes--this wouldn’t even be the start of it if he learned about the thing with Dream.

Dream.

Fucking Dream--the entire reason Charlie had to deal with this! The whole reason Tubbo started poking his nose in things he shouldn’t have!

He had a couple of options, and none of them would solve his problem. Tubbo was onto him, he was really onto him. And he knew that Tubbo had meant what he said when he left, fuck, Charlie was in so much trouble. He could ignore the entire situation, play dumb for the rest of his life, and cause chaos until the day he died--when time itself died. It was an appealing option. Easily appealing. If anything else, denial was always there for him! So, Charlie could do that. He could. It just wouldn’t work.

Another option was that Charlie could leave the server! He could leave! But… the illusion of normalcy was too good to pass up. After the Dream thing was over, he could go back to normal! And he wasn’t even sure he could leave. Servers weren’t exactly lax with how people were let in, and he knew for a fact they were even stricter about letting people out. So, that wasn’t an option. Fucking morals and oppressive admins.

He could… accelerate his plans. Break Dream out of prison early, get him to help with plans of his own. It would cause enough chaos, enough to distract Tubbo probably, right? Right?

Charlie’s desperate mind couldn’t come up with any cons--and by prime, there were so many cons--so he slowly slipped on the netherite armor from his storage room.

This was a bad idea. This was absolutely, the worst idea. But Charlie was desperate, obviously, he was desperate, and he had barely managed to get Tubbo to leave when he stumbled upon the hidden base in the first place so--

If this continued, Tubbo would not only know about his identity but also his plans, and he was almost there in figuring out his real self. He couldn’t have either, and certainly not both. He really couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Prime, Charlie was insane. He was fucking insane for this.

Would Dream even help? He better fucking help. He’d done too much shit for Dream to just leave the second he-

Was Charlie really going to do this?

He grabbed his netherite boots, slick material heating his palms. He put one of his feet in, securing the metal clasps. Fuck.

Yeah, Charlie was going to do this.

He put the other boot on and grabbed his netherite sword.

He… was really going to do this.

~*~

Dream shot up at the alarms blaring throughout the prison.

The red light shining through the lava made Dream’s eyes squint past it, and if that wasn’t enough, the alarms were making his ears ring. The situation was making it hard to think.

He clutched his ears, trying to shield them from the piercing noise, and wondered if this was just some botched security issue Sam needed to deal with or if it was the escape attempt.

It couldn’t have been the second, he could’ve sworn Charlie had only just died by Technoblade’s hands the other day. Not that he was complaining, but what would’ve pushed him into this decision?

He sat down and decided Sam needed to get a fucking move on and fix the noise, solid with the fact that it was just that. An annoying noise.

So that’s why he almost screeched backward when an arm came through the lava, making a path for him to exit through.

Well, who was he to ignore such an inviting drag? It would be rude to ignore it, after all.

Dream grinned under his mask. Things were going splendidly.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Charlie muttered, running both of his hands through his hair, a hysterical chuckle rips itself from his chest, “I can’t believe I just—that you—dude, I’m going to be in so much trouble when they figure out-“

“Are you going to shut up anytime soon?” Dream asked, taking a huge bite out of the golden apple Charlie had given him when they escaped the prison.

Charlie turned to him and stared in shock. “I literally just broke you out of prison!” He threw up his hands. “You owe me a couple of rambles after the shit you made me do!”

Dream scoffed, “All you did was break me out of prison. Not a big deal.” He shrugged.

“Not a big deal? Not a big deal?” Another chuckle ripped itself from Charlie’s lips. “I’m housing a criminal and it’s not a big deal. I’m associating with the number one enemy of the server and it’s chill.” He laughed again. “When Sam comes by to ask what’s going on I’ll just tell him. ‘Yeah, I might have broken this dude out of jail but it’s no biggie. Just did it for the thrill, y’know?’”

“Mhm,” Dream hummed. “Well, you’re a God. They couldn’t just throw you in prison, could they?”

“Yes, they absolutely could!”

“I feel like that’s more on you then.”

“You’re one to talk,” Charlie said under his breath, and crossed his arms. “So are we done now? Is the whole blackmail thing over?”

Dream stares at him. If he didn’t have his mask on, Charlie felt like his face would’ve been one of ‘who the fuck told you that?’ which is mildly concerning. Then, it’s almost like they’re back at the prison when Charlie asked him not to say anything. His head was thrown back in laughter, and his hand gripped his mask. Almost scene-for-scene shit.

“No, you’re not done,” Dream says as if it were obvious. “This is just the first step. We have so much more to do.”

“I did everything you asked!” Charlie yelled. “I got you the potions-“ He started counting the things on his fingers, pacing as his voice shook with anger. He hated Dream. “-I got you basic iron armor, I fucking broke you out of prison, I spyed on Technoblade for you, and that’s not even half of it! I could rat you out right now. I could kill you!”

“Then do it,” Dream stood, and opened his arms wide, leaving any vulnerable places open. “Strike me down, Slimecicle! God of impractical morals and puns-“

“That’s not my title.”

“It should be,” Dream shrugged, “In any case, you are completely free to lay me to waste right now.” Then he does something completely unprompted, he takes off his mask. The buckle clicks, and Charlie is greeted by a face so marred and destroyed, he could barely believe someone had survived all of those strikes on his life. But this way, Charlie can see the way his lips have turned up, the way his eyes read as someone completely unafraid. Someone who has danced with death, and come out stronger. “You can even look me in the eyes as you do it. Like what you did with Grizzly.”

And that’s what makes Charlie pause. He wasn’t going to do what he had done in the past. He had changed. He had.

That doesn’t mean his rage had calmed down though. “How do you even know about that?” He whispered, afraid he’d yell loud enough even Tubbo would be able to hear.

“I do my research,” Dream grins even more, and snapped his mask back on. “But I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it. You’re a chicken.”

Charlie laughs at that. “What a low blow,” He mocks. Out of everything, calling Charlie a cock was honestly the least offensive thing he’d heard in the past week.

Charlie was about to continue, ask what Dream needed from him before he could go back to life, a normal one, when a knock sounded at the door. “Shit,” Charlie concluded. He looked in his inventory. Aha! An invisibility potion! He tossed it at Dream who obviously caught it, and without instruction, he drank it in less than a minute. He faded from view, and Charlie honestly hoped he would just sneak out, leave, and never come back.

A knock pounded on the door again. “I’m coming!” He called, and ran towards the door, trying to come up with some sort of alibi and story. Did he know Dream escaped? Where was he when the first alarm went off in the prison? Could he really show someone around the house without revealing the fugitive hiding there?

He swung the door open to a brunet whose eyes were red-ridden and panicked. “Oh, hey Tubbo.” Better than Sam at least, who he may or may not have taken a life from while invisible. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the man even if he wouldn’t have known it was Charlie.

“Dream’s escaped,” Tubbo sniffled, rubbing his fists into his eyes. Charlie’s not quite sure if the rubbing was good for him, but he didn’t have room to judge here. “And Sam—something happened to him. He’s not-“

“Dream’s what?” Charlie chooses to distract from the bit about Sam because, again, he didn’t want to think about what he had to do to the man. Another task done, he supposed. Charlie was just about to cave in on himself nonetheless.

“He escaped. I don’t-“ Tubbo hiccuped and sniffed again. “I don’t know how.”

Charlie scans Tubbo’s figure again. He looked so much more distressed than he had several hours ago, albeit some of it was expected, but this was… a catastrophic type of pain. And this was only Tubbo. He couldn’t imagine the rest of the server. He seriously couldn’t.

Charlie glances back inside his hole, admittedly trying to see if Dream could still be seen. Obviously, he couldn’t, but Charlie didn’t doubt that he was watching from a corner, listening intently. Charlie suddenly felt very self-conscious. He’d have to be careful about what he said in the next couple minutes, not that he wasn’t already going to be.

“Do you…” Charlie bit his lip, almost hoping his lip would bleed in response. No such luck. He hesitated before continuing, it’s not like Tubbo would be able to tell just from the vibes in the air that Dream was there, “Do you want to come in? I have some more tea.” He added the last part in even though he knew the kid probably hated it if anything from the last time he talked with him was a sign.

Tubbo chuckled, breath fogging up the air a little bit more. He rubbed his arms, which made Charlie shift almost unconsciously to keep himself also warm. “No offense Charlie, but if I came in it would not be for the tea.”

“I have hot chocolate,” Charlie offered instead. What was he doing? He should be trying to divert people away, not bring them closer! But the way Tubbo’s cheeks were tear stained and his jeans were muddy and wet showed he had tripped and fallen most likely more times than he’d admit, and well, it tugged on his heartstrings. Again, he glanced inside. Was Dream still there? Was he right next to Charlie? Had he already left? Charlie hoped it was the last one. Maybe he’d leave and never come back. Good fucking riddance.

Tubbo shook his head slightly, “I didn’t come for comfort. I came because I needed to warn the people in Snowchester that a criminal is on the loose.” Charlie cringes, “Just—report anything to me? If you see something? I don’t know where Sam is.” Tubbo lifted his hand to his face, nibbling on his fingernails, “He should be here. Where is he?” He added under his breath.

“I can do that,” Charlie promised, the lie sinking in his gut. He already felt worse after the confrontation, and now this was just adding to it, and this was worse because he knew how much it affected the people here. Or, he thought he did. He… didn’t know them as well as he thought he did. “I can do that,” He repeated instead of voicing the truth that was literally just waiting to be voiced.

Tubbo looked at Charlie again, stopping the fingernail chewing, “I’m sorry about before. This has just been a rough couple of days man, and today of all days has turned out… horrible.”

Charlie was still salty about the whole book stealing thing, but at least he could console the kid. Admittedly, breaking out a well known traumatizing and manipulative bastard in retaliation against fucking book robbing was not the best look for him, even if there were underlying circumstances. “It’s fine,” He chuckled dryly, the laugh catching in his throat and making him cough, “I’m… sorry I couldn’t be the person you were looking for.”

He was not sorry. He didn’t want to be manipulated into doing the things other people wanted for nobody’s gain but theirs. He didn’t like the fact that it was already happening.

Tubbo blew out a puff of air in what Charlie thought was supposed to be a sigh, but it came out more like exasperation, “Yeah, well, if any time needed them it’d be now. Can you imagine how quickly they’d be able to find him?”

Charlie held himself back from responding that that wasn’t how it worked, and if he needed a god that badly he could go to fucking Philza Minecraft and Technoblade. The two of them made a deadly combo, and both of them had been blessed by the gods. But he bit his tongue and swallowed his pride because this wasn’t the time for it. At least not now.

So for right now Charlie just laughed and agreed, “Yeah, with some sort of human tracker? We’d be set.”

The joke fell flat and they stood there for a couple of seconds before Tubbo decided it was probably time to go, because he glanced around at the other houses and sighed, “Well, I'll see you around. Tell me if you see anything—anyone.”

“Yep,” He popped the “p” and smiled tightly. If any time he wanted Tubbo to leave, it’d probably be now. No, not probably. Absolutely. He was terrified the potion would wear off too quickly and everything would be revealed and he’d be fucked over and his life would be ruined and--Tubbo was looking at him weird. “I’ll do that. See you later?”

Tubbo nodded, “I’m having a meeting later too, if you’d like to come. I’m not sure who else would be there, but it’s just to discuss safety precautions and stuff.” Tubbo looked behind him and Charlie instinctively tried covering more of the doorframe with his body, which probably only made it more obvious he was hiding something. Tubbo rubbed his eyes again, “I’ll see you later.”

Just like that, the boy left to run off to another house. He saw his small frame knocking on others doors, and Charlie took it as his cue to go back inside. He dragged a hand down his face and hoped that he didn’t make himself any more suspicious than he already was. At least he wasn’t asked any questions, not that he doubted the warden would be back later with a notebook and questioning glares. For right now though, he had to make it through the rest of the day.

“Can you actually track people down?” Dream appeared beside him, chucking a glass of milk behind him.

Charlie jerked, “Fuck, dude! First of all, don’t fucking do that again, second of all, don’t throw my glasses on the ground--they’re called glass for a reason--and third, no I can’t. I just made it up.”

“Don’t you think you shouldn’t be lying more than you already have been?” Dream rested his head on his fist.

“It was a white lie,” Charlie sighed, “Are you just going to question my every move while you’re here? Because that’s pretty shit.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Dream shrugs, completely at ease, “Now, should I run down the list of things you need to do? It’s a lot longer since you didn’t even do five of the things on my previous list.”

“That’s not true. I did, like everything on your list. Besides the weird ‘sow the seeds of doubt’ in everyone. That was just weird.”

Dream hummed, “I guess. I’ll write down what you need to do. Or, help me with. Where’s a piece of paper?”

Charlie held up a hand, “Wait a second, if I help you with this, you have to help me protect my identity. Right before the whole-” He waves his hands around, “-Prison thing, Tubbo was literally confronting me about it. You need to help me keep it a secret.”

“I may know your secret but that doesn’t mean I can help you,” Dream sighs, “It’s really not my problem. You’re lucky that I’m not telling everyone right now.”

“You couldn’t. You’re a loose cannon,” Charlie thinks, wait. If he couldn’t even tell anyone, then the blackmail was literally useless, “Which means you hold nothing over me. I should go and tell Tubbo right now-”

Dream grasped Charlie’s arm and dragged him over, “I don’t have to be face-to-face to tell them. Ever heard of a thing called notes? And plus, that’s not the only way I could hurt you.” He looked away, “I happen to remember a couple special people from your past you don’t want hurt, am I correct?”

Charlie took a short gasp in. He was right. Argh, of course he was right. “Hmph, well, I’m going to at least set some ground rules for you.”

Which he did. He listed out basic rules, like no stealing shit Charlie didn’t outwardly give him, don’t go off on his own, always have an invis potion on him, talk to Charlie before doing anything huge, shit like that.

Then came the part of Dream’s appearance, which Charlie didn’t want people recognizing in case of someone breaking in. He’s not sure why they would, but Tubbo already proved that it could happen.

“What if you walked around without the mask on? People wouldn’t know it’s you.” Charlie ignores the fact Dream already took another golden apple out of his inventory, taking another bite out of it. He just knew he’d be wasting so much food.

Dream stares at Charlie. “Are you serious? I wear this thing for a reason. It’s not just because it looks sick. Plus, there’s that and the fact George and Sapnap have seen me without it on, and people know my voice by heart.”

Charlie ignores the stupid self compliments in that and thinks about it. He’s right, people know his voice and they know it well. And he couldn’t control if George or Sapnap saw him either. “Just--don’t wear it around here. And if you go out. I’m not made of invisibility potions. At the least, people won’t recognize you immediately.”

“I despise these rules you’re setting for me.”

“Dude,” Charlie sits down, “You are living in my house, with my food, and my resources. And I’m fucking breaking a whole bunch of other laws probably. And I’m helping you with so many other things. The least you can do is this shit.”

Dream shrugs, and throws the apple core in the trash can. Of course he made it in. Motherfucker. “I mean, you technically made a separate base for me with stuff in it. For me. I’m just using your own gifts.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that I’m setting this stuff down so you aren’t found, and I don’t get caught.”

Charlie could just feel the eye-roll from across the room when Dream removed his mask, and it was confirmed when the man’s eyebrows were raised in a ‘you really want this?’ way. Dream huffs, “Is that all? Can I write the list down now?”

He handed over a pencil and paper and watched as the man quickly scratched things into it. Dream handed the sheet back after re-reading it and nodding to himself, and Charlie sucked in a gasp when he read it. This was--more than he had prepared for.

He wasn’t sure he signed up for exploding communities and kidnapping, or manipulation of an entire server, but from the look on Dream’s face (he could actually tell what the man was thinking now-), he didn’t have much of a choice.

He swallowed, “I guess we should get started.”

~*~

“I’ve realized something,” Charlie had muttered to Dream in the doorway of his base. Dream wasn’t stupid enough to fall asleep when the man was still awake, despite how inviting the bed looked. He was content to wait for Charlie to fall asleep, even though it was obvious Charlie was waiting for the same thing.

“What’s that?” Dream asked, laying on the bed. Laying was separate from sleeping, at least that’s what his mind told him. He stared at the ceiling, faking disinterest. His mask laid on the bedside table, it was fine. Charlie had seen his face earlier, although it hadn’t helped the discomfort that set in the pit of his stomach. It was a rule to keep it off now so that if someone broke in they wouldn’t be able to recognize Dream immediately. Dream had held back the point earlier about how if they found a guy hiding out in the basement of Charlie’s they’d be able to put two and two together relatively quickly.

“All of this,” Charlie gestured to the room, “Is because Tubbo visited you in prison. Because you let it slip I existed.”

Dream sat up, a grin making its way onto his face, “You just figured that out?” He chuckled, “That wasn’t a ‘slip-up’. I needed someone to get my shit done for me and someone that had the power to do it. That was you.” He nodded at the man, “But I knew you weren’t going to just visit me without good reason. So I waited for a chance for you to check up on me. Tubbo came and the rest is history,” He leaned against the wall again, arms as a headrest, “I do admit, I didn’t expect you to come after only a couple days after Tubbo. He’s a gossiper, isn’t he?”

“I think it was just by chance he ended up telling me about your conversation,” Charlie said while staring at the floor, “I was the only one in the area that he could ramble to. It just worked out like that.” He started walking out of the room, a hand rested on the frame, “I guess all of this happened because I visited you in prison. You had no control if I didn’t even know that you knew.”

Dream grinned, “You’re all idiots, what can I say?”

Charlie slammed the door on his way out, only making Dream grin wider.

Chapter Text

Tommy wasn’t scared per se, in fact, he wasn’t scared in the slightest bit. He wasn’t anxious, or panicked about the situation at all. He wasn’t. And it was dumb to think that he was.

Because the feeling bubbling in his chest wasn’t a nervous feeling. It simply was not. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of the fact Dream was out of the prison (and really, how could tommy be sure he was out at all? sam hadn’t told him--and sam tells tommy everything, so how could tommy be sure this wasn’t a huge prank?) He sat a little straighter on the couch, knees pressed tight against his chest.

No, Tommy wasn’t afraid.

He’d like to describe the emotion as “angry” or “furious”. (petrified, his subconscious supplied for him. he was petrified. that’s why he hadn’t moved from his spot in an hour with a diamond sword just in arm’s reach. tommy told his subconscious to kindly shut the fuck up)

Tommy wanted to find Dream (wanted to see for himself the man had truly escaped and it wasn’t just a cruel, cruel prank). He wanted to kill him (punish him), make sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else (couldn’t hurt tommy) ever again. And wasn’t that the point of the prison in the first place? Why were children sent in to fight wars they were promised had already been fought for them?

And Tommy would get to it. He would. He just… had to uncurl his knees first. Which he would do, of course, when he was sure that Dream himself wouldn’t burst through the front door. (how could he be sure of what dream would ever do?) It wouldn’t take long, and he had to make sure he was safe before leaving his hut. Speaking of leaving his hut, maybe Dream’d come in while he left, wait for him to get all tired out, and then pounce.

He rubbed his eyes, he was getting irrational now (he’s been irrational the moment he heard the alarms blaring throughout the SMP which didn’t send him into a panic attack (puffy had told him to stop denying things because it only made it worse when they finally sunk in. tommy wasn’t sure what denying she had been referring to.). He wrapped his arms around his knees again.

He would get to it. But the shadows in the corner weren’t any more inviting than they were a day ago, and he couldn’t fall back to sleep at this point (the arrows on the clock mocked him with their pointing at the numbers he’d watched change throughout the night), so he’d rather stare at his wall with roots and cracks in it. He’d rather be there for when Dream eventually made his move. He’d rather plan instead of jumping into plans face-first again.

He’d rather stay on his couch, with his knees pulled close and arms wrapped around his legs, head nestled deep between them, creating hundreds of scenarios in his head about what could possibly go wrong--could be going wrong at this very moment--with the knowledge that his armor was only paces away, and diamond sword barely a meter away from him. This was his coping, and he’d spend it how he’d please.

So when a knocking on his door shook the house slightly (curse his dirt home), he wasn’t sure if he was terrified (he wasn’t. big men don’t get scared, right?), grateful (tommy refused the idea of it, he wasn’t lonely), or upset his vibe (sulking) had been ruined.

He was about to get up and open the door when a sudden thought popped into his head, making him retreat from the door slowly. How was he sure it wasn’t Dream? Sure, the man didn’t really need to knock--let’s be honest, the man would never knock before entering--but it could be a facade. A false hope that one of his friends had come to check up on him, to make sure he wasn’t digging his own grave, to make sure that the reason he hadn’t left since the alarms was because he was just tired and not just depressed and terrified. He grabbed the leather hilt of his sword just in case, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle.

It was hypothetical, wasn’t it? Why was he so concerned about--

Pounding on the door again. Tommy winced.

“Just come in,” He yelled through the door. He didn’t need to open the door and have his dreams crushed to his face if he didn’t need to.

Instead of a stupid mask with a smiley face carved into it, the door opened and curly brown hair and horns greeted him instead. A sigh of relief left his lips, and he tossed the diamond sword to the side, cringing just a tad when the clattering echoed.

Tubbo stepped into the hut and closed the door behind him gently, “I was coming to check up on you. I wanted to make sure you got some sleep last night,” He eyed the blankets messily strewn on the couch and looked back to Tommy who shrunk under his stare, “Which it seems you did. Just not in your bedroom. Any reason for that?”

“Mhm,” Tommy rocked on his heels, very not keen on the idea of telling Tubbo about the all-nighter he stuck out on the couch. He had been planning to sleep out there, just to keep an eye on the front door, but it turned into a “which idea in Tommy’s mind can traumatize him the most?” kind of night. It was fine, it wasn’t his first.

Probably not the thing Tubbo wanted to hear though, so instead he just flung his hands around wildly to explain the “crazy” night he had. “So, it’s kind of a funny story, right? I was in my bed, sitting there, falling asleep, as people do, you know? And I’m a big man as we all know so I’m like twice as normal as the average lad. So I’m sitting there, and--” He paused for dramatic effect, ignoring the eye-roll Tubbo gave him, “And I decide that my bed is extremely uncomfortable and I need a complete new one before I can ever sleep in it again, so the couch is the next best option, case and point-” He pointed to the couch, “-right there. So that’s why I was sleeping on the couch.”

Tubbo raised his eyebrows, but didn’t press further. Tommy reckoned he nailed the explanation. “And the sword you had out for…?” He trailed off, probably trying to prompt an explanation for the clear tense look and stance he had when the door had opened, but Tommy decided to ignore friendship bonding entirely.

“Decoration.”

Tubbo pursed his lips and repeated what Tommy said, “Decoration.”

“Yep, that’s what I said.”

A staring contest erupted between the two, daring each other to break off from it. Luckily, Tubbo caved first and decided to throw himself on a chair in the living room, knocking it back slightly as he pushed himself into it. “If you’re going to be stubborn, then be it. I didn’t come to pry answers from you.”

A part of Tommy soured at that, even though he thought that’s what he wanted. Really, he should start making up his mind about his emotions, shouldn’t he?

“Anyways, Tommy, I was thinking you’d like to come to a meeting of mine. It’s about this whole... mess.”

“You mean Dream,” Tommy crossed his arms and sat back down on the couch, moving the blankets away from him and onto the floor.

Tubbo cringed, “Yeah, I mean Dream. I was kind of looking for a nicer explanation.”

“Dream doesn’t deserve a nicer explanation,” Tommy said. “He’s a fuckin’ lunatic. Lunatics deserve nothing more than the facts, Tubbo.”

Tubbo hummed in agreement absentmindedly, “Sure, sure. But anyways, I want you to be there and get out of the house. This hasn’t been good for anyone,” Tubbo wringed his hands, “And I know how hard it must be for you too,” Tommy rolled his eyes, obviously it wasn’t good for him. Who knows when the man might attack? Just the alarms sent him into a paranoid frenzy! “Please come? You’ll have some good ideas about it, I’m sure.”

“Who else is going?” Not that it would change his answer. He wanted to kick Dream’s ass in any way possible, even if the thought of interacting with a bunch of people he didn’t really want to talk to made him uncomfortable.

“I’m not completely sure. I told pretty much everyone and encouraged them to tell anyone they know. It’s serious business. We’ll need all hands on deck.”

That was a bit of a problem. That was a lot of people in one room. And Tommy would have to interact with them. And Tommy wasn’t sure he’d want to do that.

Seeing the apprehension on Tommy’s face, Tubbo continued, “I don’t think they’ll all come though. I think half of them are scared out of their trousers to leave the house, to be honest.” He paused, “I don’t want to have to interact with them any more than you do--I mean, think about it. It’s likely one of them was the person to break Dream out of jail. But it’s for the safety of the SMP.”

Tommy rolled his eyes again, “Sure, why not? When is it?”

Tubbo looked away from him and rubbed his neck, “In like, an hour.”

“What?”

The walk to Snowchester didn’t actually take that long, even if it felt like an hour. He was sweating from the fur coat, boots, and gloves Tubbo had forced on him before leaving. He knew it was cold in Snowchester, that’s why he put on pants instead of shorts this time. Apparently not enough for Big T, because he had only sighed and rummaged in Tommy’s somewhat (very) disorganized closet for something that “would actually keep him warm”. Tommy didn’t even realize he had the fur coat and boots, but he guessed they were useful at the moment.

It started pouring when they just nearly made it to the frozen community, so Tommy and Tubbo got drenched while thunder and lightning echoed around them. As if Tommy needed another reason to regret letting Tubbo into his house earlier.

They finally made it to Snowchester, and instead of more rain, they were rather greeted by wind, first of all, which dried off their coats quickly. Tubbo pointed out that frozen and dry were different words, but Tommy preferred it to the soaking wool that clung to his limbs in either case.

But he did prefer the rain after having to walk through the wind for more than five seconds, which was a total pain in the ass. That, plus the huge snowflakes decorating the sky that was only whipped around more by the fucking wind, made it hell to walk through.

Eventually, they finally made it to the hall that the meeting would take place, which Tommy didn’t even know existed. Apparently, it was built sometime around when he was sulking in his house after he was revived. Tubbo wouldn’t tell him why it was built.

Either way, they entered straight into the map room, which was somewhat poor planning, but Tubbo said it was only there to serve one purpose, so all that mattered was it was functional. There were other rooms that lead outside, but it didn’t really matter.

“We’re here!” Tubbo called to the empty map room, shaking off the snow that gathered on his coat and head.

“God, it was freezing out there,” Tommy muttered, also shaking off some snow, pulling off the leather gloves on his hands. “Also, there’s no one else here, Tubbo.”

“It would’ve been cool if there was though. Epic entrance with the snow behind us, whipping our clothes around--movie material.”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy nodded, pulling a seat aside to collapse into.

“Uh-huh,” Tubbo mocked, “You know I’m right.”

The door whipped open, and in came Sapnap and George. Made sense. They both took seats near the back of the table, muttering things to each other under their breath, occasionally throwing glances to Tommy or Tubbo. Tommy shifted uncomfortably on his chair and decided to study the map.

“Hey, guys!” Tubbo greeted, “I’ll start the meeting when more people arrive, so uh, keep doing you over there.”

Sapnap just stared at him while George gave him a thumbs up and then pointed to a spot on the map, gesturing vaguely to Sapnap and starting another conversation.

Callahan came in next, shivering a little, yet no snow was on him. Tommy wasn’t sure how he did it. But the man didn’t sit on a chair, instead, he chose to stand near the corner of the room. Just watching. Tommy didn’t think he’d actually seen the man speak before, which was a little concerning.

Fundy, Purpled, and Punz all came in at once, separating once they were in the room.

After that, more people came in groups making the once very large meeting hall seem crowded and small. From what Tommy had seen (and it was possible someone had snuck past him), the people who came to the meeting included Sapnap, George, Callahan, Fundy, Purpled, Punz, Eret, Jack Manifold, Niki, Quackity, Puffy, Ranboo, Hannah, and Badboyhalo surprisingly.

After Tommy thought everyone who wanted to come had arrived, Tubbo clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, now that we have everyone here, I thought we should start simple. Like, set up patrols and stuff.”

“We don’t have those kinds of resources,” Quackity yelled from the edge of the room, squished between everyone else at the table.

Tommy saw Tubbo’s face blush, “I--uh, yeah, so…” Tubbo laughed, “I know I didn’t talk about this with you Eret, but I was hoping you’d be able to lend a couple of your guards for the greater good.”

Eret shrugged, “I don’t use all of them anyway. I’d be willing.”

Tubbo clapped his hands together, “Great! So-”

“Sorry, I’m late!” A man called, running into the room from the doors that didn’t lead outside. “I got lost, and then I came in the wrong way-” That explains the door choice, “-and I wasn’t sure what to bring-” He stopped abruptly realizing how many people were staring at him, “I didn’t realize there’d be so many of you.”

“Charlie! You made it,” Tubbo exclaimed, “Welcome, welcome. We were just getting started, so you didn’t miss much. Take a seat and we can start again now that everyone’s here.” Tommy cringed at the last part, Sam’s seat glaringly empty. It was, fine, Tommy was sure the man was fine. He could take care of himself, right?

“It’s fine, you guys can continue where you were,” Charlie waved away the pleasantries and entered the room further, “You said I didn’t miss much.”

Tubbo took in Charlie’s snow-soaked appearance and nodded, “Uh, sure. So, as I was saying, I was thinking we’d need to do patrols around Snowchester, the L’manhole, possibly Eret’s castle?”

“I already have patrols,” Eret interjected, “I’ll be fine. If he tries to get in for some reason, I’ll be ready.”

“Your patrols suck,” Tommy said, “It’s way too easy to get in and out of your-” Tommy paused, trying to come up with a better word for what he was going to say, but settled on, “-thing.”

“They’re mainly there to report back to me about who goes in and out. It’s not supposed to be hard.” Eret sighed, “I don’t usually ask them to stop everyone who goes in, but I might have to instruct them to start doing that.”

“You should,” Tubbo agreed, “We need to take as many precautions as we can.”

“What about personal guards?” Eret asked, “I think that Tommy, you, and Ranboo should all have some sort of personal guard. Maybe even Purpled, even though he hasn’t been personally attacked by Dream.”

Tommy internally cringed away from the idea. He hated the plan. He didn’t want guards. He would--well, he’d like to say he’d be fine, but he knew he couldn’t be completely sure of it. He’d instead like to make the point that being followed around all day would be invading and anxiety-inducing, and plain-old embarrassing. He knew half the people here didn’t care for him anyways, which was disappointing, but still. He didn’t want to take up resources when he knew they’d reject the idea of them being wasted on him.

“Just because I’m the only minor here that hasn’t been manipulated by Dream doesn’t make me safe! None of us are safe, I hate to remind you,” Purpled called from next to Quackity.

“Right you are, big man,” Tommy said. “I don’t like this idea of guards anyways,” he scrunched up his nose, “It’s awfully… what’s the word? It’s awfully over-preparing.”

“Overbearing?” Niki asked, “Is that what you mean?”

“No, no,” Tommy shook his head, “I feel like personal guards would just be preparing for something that would never happen.”

Charlie snorted from the back. A couple of people glanced over at him, but he didn’t say anything else, so Eret continued, “I mean, we don’t need to do the guard thing with you. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you if we could’ve prevented it.”

This time, Charlie actually did say something, “Dude, I swear to prime that guards would probably not help. They would definitely off-put some of his plans if he did have them, but this is Dream. We know how much this man likes to scheme and plan.”

The way Charlie spoke so personally about the topic even though he came after Dream was a big threat weirded Tommy out a little. He shouldn’t be speaking as if he knows from experience, because he didn’t. Tommy did. But he didn’t say anything.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Eret asked with a pointed glare, “At least I’m trying to help.”

Charlie backed away from the table with a couple of steps, “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just pointing out what could go wrong.”

If Eret wasn’t wearing sunglasses, Tommy thought he would be rolling his eyes. It seemed like that kind of situation. “Whatever. So, we have the patrols that I can set up, what else? We can come back to the guard thing later.”

“We need to find Dream,” Tommy said, “So I think we should do mandatory searches in every territory, every house.”

He tried to not think about how Sam would have probably already done that.

“Who would do it though?” Bad asked, tail swishing around his legs.

“Us?” Tubbo asked with a scoff in his tone, “We need him back in Pandora’s Box, like, immediately. All hands on deck, as I’ve said.”

“We should start an anonymous tip line or something,” Quackity said, “Something being a sheriff's office and interrogation room for suspicious individuals.”

A crunching of snow outside the doors stopped Quackity in his tracks.

“What did I miss?” The door flew open, hinges squeaking in protest. The wind whips the figure's hair side to side and they rip their mask on revealing none other than Mister AwesomeDude himself. “Miss me?” He answers when the beat of silence is not broken.

Tommy shrugged, “To be fair, we all thought you died. Permanently.” He said it nonchalantly so it distracted from his actual anxious feelings that were stewing in his chest. They eased slightly with the knowledge the man was alright, but… he had a scar on his neck. He wasn’t sure what happened there but he was ready to throw hands with the nearest civilian if they had anything to do with it. Sam could do no harm, so no harm should have come to him.

“I did die,” Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at the faces in the room, all in similar states of shock. He slammed the doors behind him and shook off the rest of the snow on him, “Wait, guys. You looked at the comms, right? You saw I died? Twice?”

“Twice?” Tubbo exclaimed, “What for?”

Tommy slapped him lightly on the arm, “The fuck do you mean, ‘What for?’ He was obviously killed so the wrong’un who broke Dream out could get past him.”

A couple of people shifted uncomfortably at the mention of death, and Tommy felt it was harsh enough the man died once, let alone twice. It took much longer the second time you died, like the afterlife was upset you escaped its clutches. But that was only an old maiden’s tale, since there was nothing there to want. Just an endless void.

A painful void.

Anyways, Sam rolled his eyes in response, “So you didn’t catch the person who killed me and also broke Dream out of prison? I would say I’m surprised but at this point I think I’m just numb to the stupidity on this server.” To prove his point, he shook his head and approached the table further, leaving wet spots on the floor and the boards creaking in his wake. “You guys have better come up with something good while I was out.”

“Wait, Sam, and not that I’m particularly upset with this, but how’d you find out about this meeting in the first place?” Tubbo asked from his place at the table.

Sam jerked his thumb in Charlie’s general direction, watching silently from a corner he backed into after making his point about the guards, “Saw him running past me and I asked where he was going. He answered and then just continued to run.”

A couple of stilted chuckles filtered through the room following Charlie’s blushing face, “I didn’t know it was you, I promise!” He said that as if he was talking to someone specific, not that Tommy was sure who. He continued, “If I knew it was you I would’ve stopped and, you know, made sure you were alright and stuff.”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you were the one who killed me,” Sam joked. A forced and harsh laugh left Charlie’s mouth and he nodded with a muttered, ‘yeah’ under his breath.

“Well big man, we haven’t accomplished much. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“We’ve established patrols!” Tubbo protested, “That’s pretty good I’d say.”

Sam pushed in between Tubbo and Tommy, “Not good enough. Someone hand me a pen.”

~*~

“I can’t believe you decided to come with,” Charlie shook his head, “That was so reckless, dude. Imagine if the potion had worn off! We--you would be in so much trouble.”

“I didn’t get caught,” Dream pointed out, “And isn’t that the goal?”

“The goal is to get this stuff over with so I can just be normal again.”

“You’ll never be normal,” Dream said, “At this point, you’re all alone. You can’t talk to anyone about this, ever. And it will be so hard to go back after the things we’ll do.”

“You’ll do,” Charlie shook his head. He wanted to separate himself from this as much as he could, for the time being, to keep his head straight. And he tried to not let Dream’s words sink in because they weren’t true. It was just that the only person he was stuck with was also trying to get inside his head, and it was really hard to convince yourself it wasn’t true when you don’t have anyone else proving them wrong. And didn’t that just prove Dream’s poi--

“I mean, what’s the difference? At this point, we should just team-up. No blackmail involved.”

“No, nope, not happening,” Charlie shook his head, “I’m not associating with this.”

“Charlie, you already are.”

“Fuck off, man,” He muttered, “Listen, the point now is that we now know their plans. And we can adjust accordingly. Prime, do you know how lucky you are that I’m like, totally under the radar? When was the last time they checked up on me? That’s lucky for you.”

“And depressing for you,” Dream dragged a finger down his face, mimicking the path of a tear, “Are you sure you want to be helping those people?”

“Does it matter?” Charlie stressed. Because it didn’t, did it? He was doing this for the server in general. It didn’t matter if they weren’t best friends with each other.

Dream shrugged, “Well, I wouldn’t want to be the guy that was helping a bunch of people who didn’t even know he existed,” He stopped circling Charlie to stare at his face, “But it doesn’t matter because right now we still have to work together whether you like it or not.”

Charlie glared at him, trying to come up with some sort of comeback, but instead just sighed, “I came down here to discuss what we should be doing to avoid the patrols and-” He paused, “-investigation. If you want to be caught, be my guest, but we need to hide this staircase somehow.”

Dream actually paused this time, no retort quick on his tongue. “Let me think about that. While I do that, I want you to enchant my tools again. These enchantments suck.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, “They’re basic fucking enchantments dude. Don’t be picky.”

Dream removed his helmet and grabbed a couple of tools from his inventory, tossing them at Charlie. He caught them (barely), and placed them in his own inventory, “I know you can do better. Don’t play with me.”

“I hate you. How do you know that I can do better? I don’t even have twenty levels.”

Dream looked at him and frowned, “I know more things than you think I do. Don’t underestimate me here-”

“I wasn’t underestimating you-”

“The least you can do is enchant these tools for me. You didn’t even take all of Sam’s lives, like I asked,” Dream sat on the bed, “Just do it.”

And Charlie was promptly shoved out of his own secret base, leaving him to think about his actions while shaving away the previous enchantments on the tools. Now, he could actually try with the new ones, or just piss off Dream again with shit enchants again.

Tough decisions. Tough decisions.

Well, Dream didn’t need to know everything. He could have the best Charlie could give for these tools, but Charlie knew some hidden enchantments that weren’t common for mortals to know. It wasn’t like he invented them, or anything. Cough cough.

At least intricately carving the letters on the sword distracted him from Sam.

Two lives were two too many.

~*~

Left to his own devices after removing Charlie from his bedroom, Dream sketched up a painting design to hide the staircase from the rest of the house. It was simple, but it would work. He could think of something more creative later, for now, he didn’t need anything more.

He heard the scratching of grindstone from above his base, making him grin.

He was still mildly upset Charlie didn’t take all of Sam’s lives, which would make his job and Charlie’s so much easier, but at least he was making up for it with the new enchantments he’d place on his sword and pickaxe.

He placed his pen down on the table and leaned back. He wondered if he should tell Charlie now or later, that he was going to kill Tubbo. He seemed reasonably attached to the kid, which was never good. Dream would’ve thought that gods would have enough reason and wisdom to not have attachments in general, but the situation with his previous friends was enough to prove that Charlie wasn’t the brightest of the gods.

Either way, he needed to find a good time to tell the man about his plans.

For now, they just needed outside help that had inside ties. And Dream knew just the man.

“Now we just need Technoblade,” Dream remarked. “And I have the perfect plan.”

Chapter Text

Dream observed the tools Charlie presented to him for the second time that day. (yes that’s right, even when he re-enchanted the tools they still weren’t good enough for the man) Dream picked up the pickaxe last and weighed it in his hands as if that would change anything. Charlie thought it probably did. If Charlie had learned anything since living with the guy, it was that he was very picky. Way too picky to be a man on the most wanted list.

Charlie picked at a loose thread on his sleeve when he moved onto the axe, knowing that was the one he was most particular about. It’s a fucking axe. It’s used to cut down trees. But apparently, no, no that’s not what Dream uses it for at all.

Whatever, Charlie had learned his lesson. Sharpness was a useful enchantment on the axe, at least for Dream. So that’s what he put on the axe.

He let out a breath of relief when Dream nodded, finished looking over the last tool, “This works. You’re good at enchanting when you apply yourself.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, “I know that.”

“Then why didn’t you do it before?” Dream asked, raising an eyebrow. He set the tool back on the table, observing the kitchen surrounding him. He held up a hand, “Actually, don’t answer that. I know why.” Charlie’s mouth straightened into a thin line, not really sure he wanted to know what that had meant. “Instead, why do you have a kitchen? Don’t you like, not need to eat?”

“Why are you in my kitchen?” Charlie asked, raising his hand, “Last I checked, you had food downstairs in your little ditch.”

Dream shrugged. And, wow, after living with the guy for a little, Charlie was starting to despise all of his shrugs. His carelessness. The way he seemed like he had everything under control like there was nothing better he’d rather be doing than discussing his safety concerns with a very, “I know exactly what I’m doing and I’m offended you think I could be doing it wrong” attitude.

In short, he was getting a little pissed that the man decided he would rather care less about his personal safety just because he was cocky. In even shorter terms, the shrugs stood for everything Charlie was against.

Or maybe Charlie hadn’t gotten fresh air in a bit. Could be either, at this point.

“The food down there is just carrots. And dirt. Up here, there’s bread without mold on it. Guess which I’d prefer to eat.”

“Guess where I’d prefer you to be?”

Dream shifted his gaze to Charlie’s face from admiring the handiwork on the tools (although he’d never admit that’s what he was doing), “Do you have a problem?”

“No, no problems here,” Charlie smiled.

“Are you actually going to answer any of my questions today? Because it doesn’t seem like you are.”

Oh, really? And how much Charlie wanted to answer them! Really, that was what he’d been wanting to do since day one, just spill his life’s secrets for the world to hear, especially hoping Dream would hear them and be satisfied, never needing another query done. While we’re at it, Charlie should add that he actually enjoyed Dream’s company way too much, and he got so excited when Dream would talk to him. The scolding was just too glamorous for little ol’ Charlie, he couldn’t take it.

The sarcasm dripping from his own thoughts was almost too much to handle at this point.

A chuckle, “What gave you that impression?”

Dream eyed him, “At this moment, you don’t seem as useful as before.”

“Good. Get another lackey.”

Charlie got up to grab some bread, drumming his fingers on the cabinets. He had a lot of pent-up energy from just everything in general, but it also wasn’t great he hadn’t switched to his natural form in a while. He had been satisfied using his powers occasionally, like when he fixed the cameras in the prison and just recently when he added the enchantments to the weapons, but they were so limited when he was mortal.

He inspected Dream from the table, who was also watching Charlie with a scrutinizing eye. He didn’t want to shift to such a revealing form in front of him. And he especially didn’t want to show off that part of his life, not on the Dream SMP where he’d wanted to keep everything under wraps.

It's not like it was up for debate anyway. He could handle a few jitters in his life for the moment. He had bigger fish to fry.

Dream knew something was up either way when Charlie came back to the table with some freshly sliced bread and an apple, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no.”

“You’re despicable, you know that?” Dream waved a butter knife around menacingly (well, it was a butter knife, it couldn’t be that menacing, but dream tried at least), “Anyways, you said Technoblade was neutral?”

Wait a second. This--was a vast switch in topics here. And the topic switch wasn’t one he would like to partake in. Not really. Not when he could just feel where the conversation was going.

Charlie stopped nibbling the bread and looked at Dream.

Dream stared back and then stood up from the chair, pushing it away from the table when he rose. He crossed his arms and fixed a glare on Charlie when he continued to not say anything, a little too frozen to the spot.

Dream crossed his arms, “Well?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Why do you think I need to know?”

“I’m asking because I already think I know,” Charlie noted, also standing up. The sight of Dream kind of towering above you was nightmare fuel, and it wasn’t even that tense of a situation, “That’s the problem.”

“What’s wrong with Technoblade?” Dream asked, a little too smugly.

Charlie wondered if Dream knew that Techno had killed Charlie, just based on the way he asked. To be fair, he didn’t really have a problem with the man. He excavated the little hole for Dream with Techno, and that wasn’t horrible. But working with him on a day-to-day basis, when he already had to deal with a Teletubby impersonator? Uncalled for.

He decided to bite the bullet. Dream would find out eventually, wouldn’t he? And what could go wrong if he told Dream about the Techno interaction?

“He killed me!” Charlie shouted, “I’m not entirely keen on seeing him again. Technoblade is--”

“Sure,” Dream interrupted, and waved his hands around, “Sure, sure, of course. Technoblade is scary-'' Charlie frowned, he wasn’t that scary, “But let’s cut to the chase, alright? We both know where this conversation is going.” Dream paused, “I want to be allied with Techno.” He clasped his hands and pointed them towards Charlie, “Do you think he’d rat me out?”

This was a 50/50. Charlie wasn’t really sure what Techno would do if they just showed up and asked to--what was it Dream wanted Charlie to do again? He threw that sheet of paper into a fire after reading it enough times. Not enough to remember what it said, just enough to be filled with a lot of emotions he didn’t have time to unpack. He got the gist of it anyway, and Dream certainly knew what he wanted to accomplish either way.

How much did it matter if he knew the plans would only change again in due time?

“It depends on what you want to do,” Charlie hesitated, “So… I’m not really sure.”

“But that’s-”

A knock on the door.

“Looks like this conversation will have to wait,” Charlie said and opened a cabinet in the kitchen for an invisibility potion to toss to Dream.

Dream pushed Charlie aside before he could even grab the bottle and uncorked it, swallowing the entire thing in less than a couple of seconds.

He glared at the spot Dream faded from, but turned to the door and swung the door open.

“Sam,” Charlie said. This’ll be interesting.

~*~

Sam had had an exhausting day. It was a very long, very tiring morning, and it wasn’t getting any shorter. It was one thing after the other, and personally, he couldn’t keep up with it all. The stress was a lot, and you’d think people would understand! He had lost two of his three lives--he didn’t even know who took them--and on top of the trauma of having your throat slit and stomach slashed, you had to find the man that had manipulated an entire server, terrorizing its inhabitants to another level, and you had to find that man soon.

Easy enough, right? Just leave it to ol’ warden Sam, he’ll catch the big baddie of the server, no sweat!

If only it was that fucking easy.

Sure, there were patrols put in place by the kind--oh so kind--server members, but that didn’t help much. Dream wasn’t an edgy teen who got caught robbing a house one time. He’ll know to avoid people, let alone people decked out in armor and weapons. (did dream even have armor and weapons?)

So Sam had spent his morning going from house to house in Snowchester, poking around nooks and crannies, questioning the elderly, and threatening civilians for a sliver of information about the convict on the loose. Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten far with his investigation.

Some people might have had straight up lied about something they’d known, maybe covering up some sketchy act or another, but nothing huge. And Sam was about up to here with all of the, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t know much,” phrases, worded differently each time. And the paranoia-ridden rants as well! Prime you’d think people would know that hey, maybe Dream didn’t decide to kidnap Technoblade (speaking of which, he had to remember to find the man later. he must know something, right?) and run away with it to another server, marrying George with an unlicensed priest in tow.

At least it gave him something to laugh about in the chilly air until he remembered this was only Snowchester.

Maybe being the warden was getting to him a little. He needed an assistant or something.

But Sam could see the light at the end of the tunnel! Just a couple more houses, barely five more. And while this next house would probably gain him nothing in terms of knowledge, he could at least ask about an event he’d been wondering about since it happened.

He strolled up to Slimecicle’s house, knocking twice on the wooden door.

It was hilarious to think the man was actually capable of anything as incriminating as breaking Dream out of prison, and even imagining the humorous man murdering Sam was something to laugh at. But he might know something, and knowledge was knowledge.

Who knows, maybe Dream was hiding in his basement, right under his nose?

Better to be safe than sorry.

The door swung inwards, “Sam.”

“Slimecicle,” Sam greeted in response. Slime seemed tense, holding the door in an awkward position so that he couldn’t see past him. “Can I come in?”

Slime grimaced, “It’s--” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s messy. I’m not sure you’d want to see.”

Sam laughed, “It couldn’t be worse than what I’ve had to see today.” Slimecicle reluctantly opened the door further, Sam stepped into the abode. It wasn’t messy, just not extremely organized. The room was cluttered. Worktables shoved in corners, furnaces in others, books haphazardly thrown everywhere. It was like someone was moving, but they forgot to pack. “--Honestly? Not that bad.”

“Very kind of you Sam,” Slimecicle walked in further, kicking at a bump in the rug, “I assume you’re here to--what? Investigate or something?”

“It shouldn’t take long,” Sam agreed, “Just a couple of questions, and then I’ll look around your house to make sure there are no criminals lurking or anything.”

“Don’t you need a warrant for that?”

“That’s what I thought, but there is a surprising lack of laws in place for that sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure what I expected from the Dream SMP, but that about works.”

Slimecicle gestured him into a quaint kitchen, cabinets and such lining the walls, a circular table in the center of the room. It looked like there was an unfinished “meal”--if you could even call a piece of bread and an apple that--placed on the table, a piece of bread with barely two bites taken out of it sitting on the table. Sad.

“We can talk in here,” Slime said, and sat down at the table, “You don’t mind if I continue to eat my uh,” He coughed, “Breakfast, do you?”

Sam shrugged and also sat down at the table, notebook in hand. He had literally not written a single thing in it since who knows when, but he hoped he’d be able to write in it soon. Something--anything, really. “So, general questions first. Where were you when the alarms went off at the prison?”

Slime thought for a second, “Here. I was crafting some things.”

“What kind of things?”

Slime shrugged, “Sticks, wooden planks.”

So, basic explanation. Not particularly easy to disprove, since everyone had sticks and planks on them usually. Not great if Sam wanted to be able to tell if Slime was lying.

“Slimecicle, do you have anything more specific you were doing? I just need to be able to confirm your whereabouts. Like--a witness or something? That could prove you were home?”

“You gotta stop calling me Slimecicle, it’s way too formal,” Slime--Charlie?--said. “And I’m not sure if it counts since it happened earlier, but Tubbo stopped by in the morning-” He said that with a wince. Sam wondered if there was more to that story than just a friendly interaction. “-but he saw me either way. He’d be able to vouch for me.”

Sam could check with Tubbo later, but it seemed like a solid excuse. He groaned internally for the fact that he probably wouldn’t get anything out of Sli--Charlie either. “Mhm, I’ll check with him. Have you heard anything about Dream since his escape? Seen him? Wait--actually, have you seen anything suspicious at all? I just need something.”

Charlie hesitated slightly, like he was debating telling the truth or not, so Sam added on an extra, “Seriously. Dream wouldn’t even know if you told me.”

“I’m not sure if it was anything, but I saw a man standing near where L’manburg used to be--the hole--and he was looking down at the vines and stuff at the bottom. I’m not sure it was him, you know? It could’ve been a new server member--”

“But that’s something!” Sam exclaimed, writing it down in his notebook. Finally, finally, he had a lead. It could go nowhere, but there was finally a notable sighting of Dream. He squashed down any voices that pointed out it really could just be a new server member, because Sam would take anything, even if it was fake. “When did you see this man? What did he look like? Armor, weapons?”

“I saw him after the meeting we had,” Charlie chewed his lip, and if Sam didn’t know any better it would almost be like he was fabricating the story on the spot if not for the confidence he delivered each line in. “No armor, just a stone sword tied to his hip. I can’t think of any details past that, since I walked away from him after seeing him.”

Even the fact that Charlie quite possibly saw Dream and walked away (and didn’t tell anyone, which was… odd, actually) couldn't put Sam down. And maybe other people knew things too! This was a good sign.

“Well, this is pretty good, actually,” Sam said, and put his notebook away for now, “I just have one last question--more for my sake than yours--and I’ll take a look around your house.”

“Sure,” And it was only until now that Sam realized how tense Charlie really was. His shoulders had dropped their tense, and he let out a sigh. He slumped down a little in his chair and actually took a bite out of the bread that was just sitting on the table originally.

“What happened during those prison visits? You seem more relaxed now, so I’m sure they didn’t mean much, but--”

“I already told you what happened during them,” Charlie gritted out, stone facade coming back up. Great, another dead-end. “I don’t even remember at this point.”

“It was definitely more than nothing. Prime, what were you even talking about when you said, ‘I’ll do them’? That wasn’t normal. And Dream had seemed almost ecstatic when you left.”

Charlie sucked in a breath, “Again, it was--relating to my past. The childhood thing. When I broke my nose and ditched the server I was on.”

That was not what Charlie had mentioned originally. Sure, a couple of things were similar, the broken nose part (although he could’ve sworn Charlie said he gave the other guy a broken nose, not that he ended up with one), and in both situations, he left somewhere (except in the other situation he left involuntarily and it wasn’t an entire server he left).

“What happened to your original story?”

Charlie blanched, “That was my original story.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re hiding something. What happened during that prison visit?”

“You’re remembering wrong. That’s what I said.”

Sam sighed, “You’re so difficult.” He stood up, “If you aren’t going to say anything I’ll look around your house now.”

“Please do.”

Charlie ended up trailing Sam everywhere, and for someone who Sam originally thought had nothing to hide, it was kind of suspicious. Sam looked everywhere in the house, a little more nosy than he was in the other houses because, okay, maybe he was upset Charlie wouldn't tell him what happened during the prison visits.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a portrait. It was at the end of the hall, right past the library (which he was still shocked by), and it was of a man on a candle. “Did you paint this?”

“No,” Charlie rubbed a little speck off the painting, “I had it in storage. It brightens the hallway up a little, don’t you think? Decoration.”

Decoration of which Charlie had nowhere else in his house. Maybe a flower or two here and there, a shelf or a photo plastered on the wall, but nothing as fancy as a painting that was coincidentally the size of the average door.

He removed the painting from the wall without thinking, revealing a door and a staircase past it. Sam hated to say he suspected it. “Uh-huh, decoration. What’s down there?”

And for a second, Charlie’s face had “Shit, fuck, and ass, I’m caught” written all over it, but then it was schooled into a calm expression, “It’s nothing. It was originally a safe room, for if something happened. It was meant to be secret.” He glared at Sam, “You never know when you have a leader with nukes underneath his house.”

“Nukes?”

“Oh fuck, you don’t know about those, do you?” Charlie asked, with a seemingly innocent expression on. Sam knew what he was doing. It seemed to be an honest mistake to anyone else, but it was an obvious subject change to Sam. And while the revelation of nukes was a little ground-shaking, he could deal with it. For the moment, Charlie seemed to be digging himself a deeper hole by the second.

“No, I didn’t. Now, you wouldn’t mind if I took a look down in your little panic room, would you?” He cringed at the bad transition.

“... No.”

“Good,” Sam said, and skipped down the stairs, missing every other step. It was dimly lit, with a lantern now and then, just barely lighting up the path. He could’ve sworn he saw particles dart past him, but he was probably just hallucinating things in the dim light.

He found himself in front of a crap wooden door with hinges almost screamed when opened, and then was genuinely surprised by what he saw.

It was actually a panic room. A shit one, obviously, but it seemed to meet the requirements. There wasn’t amazing food, the floor was dirt, and the bed was flat, but it definitely didn’t have anyone living in it. There was a wardrobe in the corner that might have things in it, but the lock on the door prevented him from opening it. And he doubted Charlie would unlock it for him.

That didn’t mean Charlie was off the hook. He still had his suspicions.

And when Sam left, he didn’t cross his name off the suspects' list. He only underlined it.

~*~

All Dream had to say about Charlie was that he was a fucking idiot. He could barely keep his lies straight, and Dream had to save both of their asses for them when Sam was heading to their “panic room”. It was a horrible lie, and Dream was extremely surprised when Sam bought it. He would've thought the man more paranoid than that. Either way, he probably would’ve been caught if not for Dream stuffing everything in his inventory when he got down there.

Just barely had he fit his porcelain mask in his inventory when Sam stepped foot into the room.

So, suffice it to say, Dream was pissed. And he couldn’t trust Charlie, not that he had trusted the god in the first place.

He grabbed his green cloak out of his inventory and dragged Charlie up from his seat, smiling when the man yelped. “Get your coat. We’re going to Technoblade’s house, whether you like it or not.”

Dream slipped on his mask, and he left the hobbit home.

To the tundra, they would go. And with Technoblade they would return.

Chapter Text

“I assume-” Charlie ducked from a tree branch overhead, “We’re going to Techno’s to become allies?”

“What gave you that impression?” Dream asked, sarcasm lacing the words. The mask he had put on before he left covered his face, and it made Charlie uneasy someone would spot them. Plus, he couldn’t recognize any faces Dream would make because it covered half of his face, aside from his mouth.

Charlie just rolled his eyes. At least they were taking a long way--the way no one traveled through. It’d be unlikely someone would be traveling through such a dense forest, what with tree branches sticking out everywhere, roots being tripping hazards, and bushes obstructing their path. They had a good idea, not coming through here, Charlie thought, This is the worst path ever.

“Are you going to take your mask off?”

“Why would I?” Dream lifted a branch for both of them to pass under.

“What if someone sees us?”

Dream turned around to face him. The trees were close together, forcing Charlie and Dream to be mere feet away from each other. “What if someone sees us? Even if someone was going this way--which there wouldn’t be unless they were an idiot--” Charlie kept back the remark of which pointed out that they were the idiots then, “--they wouldn’t be able to see us through the trees. Plus,” He pulled out a potion, containing a shimmering grey liquid, “Invisibility potion. We’re fine.”

Who knew Dream could be rational at times? Not Charlie, although he assumed it would be a short streak of reasonability.

They carried on through the forest, Charlie tripping over the occasional root, smashing into a tree now and then, glaring at Dream when he laughs, the usual. He absentmindedly traced his collar, reminding himself of when Dream pulled him out of his chair earlier. To be fair, he didn’t think he did that bad of a job defending himself. Sam didn’t even look at his weapons (thank fucking prime for that), which he would’ve recognized immediately as the ones who killed him in the prison. Big win.

Charlie narrowly avoided a branch that swung back at him when Dream pulled it back.

Dream seemed pissed about it though. For some reason. It was dumb because really, Charlie saved his ass on the fly. And he told some pretty reasonable lies. He had an alibi that might work out, depending on whether or not Tubbo corroborated on it.

“What do we need Technoblade for?”

He wasn’t sure if he could particularly trust Tubbo, per se, but he was Charlie’s hope for the moment. It was up for debate whether or not he’d tell Sam of his visit to his house, and then if he did, Tubbo might just blabber about why he was over there in the first place. At the least, it might prove that Charlie wasn’t lying about everything, making his actual lies more believable? It was a little bit of a stretch, to be fair.

“What else? To help with the tasks we need to accomplish.”

Charlie still couldn’t believe he got the lie mixed up about why he visited Dream in prison. It was such an easy lie to remember, yet he still can’t remember what he originally said. Fuck Sam and his amazing memory. At least he wasn’t great about being precise with his questions, just accepting his answers as fact.

“... Which were what again?”

Or was that just another lie he was telling himself?

“Slimecicle,” Dream said, putting an arm out to stop the man from continuing further, “You are telling me, you forgot what I wrote down on that piece of paper?”

Charlie avoided the mask’s blank stare, instead looking at the shelf mushrooms growing on a massive tree. What a pain it would be to cut that one down. “Maybe. It’s not like I have it anymore anyways.”

Charlie could hear the man take a deep breath in, and then out. He doubted it was to calm the man down, more as just an act to make Charlie uneasy. Well, it was working. Fuck.

“Well, then I’ll just repeat it for you,” Dream seethed, “Since you can’t get one fucking thing right, can you?”

So, maybe Dream had been pissed the entire walk and Charlie couldn’t tell. And now the bomb had gone off, and it was just best to duck and cover for the time being. Translation to this situation: just agree with whatever Dream says and hope you don’t get hurt.

“That’s a little extreme,” But Charlie would never be one to downplay his strengths, whether it was for his good or not.

Dream ignored that, and started listing off the things they needed to do, “I need you to help me with my plans in general, I need you to start making other people suspicious of each other, steal the nukes from Snowchester--that’s right I heard that between you and Sam--, blow up Snowchester, revive Wilbur with me, kidnap Tommy, slowly reveal me to the other people on the SMP, kill Tubbo, and slowly gather everyone together and then remind them of my position on this SMP. The only thing you did right, was allying with Techno. But technically I’m the one who’s doing it, and you’re just along for the--”

Charlie’s fist connected with Dream’s jaw before he could continue. He shook his wrist out from the pain, it’s been a while since he’s fought someone before. But he thought he could excuse this time because these were not the same tasks he had written down before. Or maybe they were, and they were just toned down on paper. He didn’t remember the part about blowing up his home, or the part where he needed to kidnap a child, or, you know, perma-death another kid who was just trying his best.

This was above his pay grade, and it’s not like he’d want to do that stuff anyway even if he was showered with diamonds. He got enough of that back home. Dream was a fucking moron if he thought he’d do any of that, blackmail or not.

Dream stumbled back, raising a hand to his jaw to caress the spot. Charlie thought he’d just stand there in shock really, but then he laughed. Like, a real laugh. A laugh that would occur when you saw something funny. Not a dark chuckle, or a fake grin. This was a hearty laugh, from something funny.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, where he crouched and got into more of a fighting stance, completely ready for if he needed to punch again.

“You’re so--” Dream flung his hands around, vaguely gesturing something. Charlie wasn’t sure what. “I can’t explain it--you’re just--”

Charlie raised his fist and aimed for the ribs this time, fist making a crack noise when hitting Dream’s stomach area. He wasn’t entirely surprised when Dream didn’t go as far the second time, only staggering a little and then finding a balance on the uneven ground. “Fuck off. Do you seriously think I’m going to do any of that on your list?”

“You seemed very eager before. What about hearing it out loud makes it different?” Despite the two pretty good punches thrown at him, Dream still seemed unfazed.

“When we’re talking about child murder. And when we’re talking about blowing up a very nice community, and also when talking about kidnapping a completely different kid, and when we’re talking about reviving a terrorist, and when we’re talking about going back to controlling an entire SMP for what? What’s the point of it all, man?”

Dream took two large strides forward, stopping directly in front of Charlie, “You think you know so much, don’t you? You really have no clue why I’m doing any of this? God, you’re such a fucking idiot, aren’t you?”

Charlie shoved him, “Maybe I don’t want to know! Seems to be a horrible life if you have a reason for that shit.” He took a couple of steps back, and even if it seemed like he was retreating, he wanted the distance between the two of them, “I don’t care about your threats anymore, Dream. I’m done.”

“Oh? You are?” Dream’s mouth quirked at the edges, “Very interesting. Well, I’m sure my associate would be happy to hear about your status, who knows, they might even spread the news to other people. And Condi and Bizly--well, they must want to hear about your association with a criminal, don’t you think?”

Charlie started walking away. He didn’t need to hear about this. He’ll make it to Sam, and then the whole jig will be up. Even if--even if Dream tells Sam his secret as he’s dragged to the prison. He wouldn’t have any reason to believe him, right?

“I’ll kill Tubbo before you get there,” Dream said, and appeared in front of Charlie with a bust of purple particles and ender pearls in hand. Charlie paused. “It’s not like I have to just stay here while I wait for you to drag my ass off. And then I’ll be gone, and you’ll be interrogated. But you won’t be let off so easily this time.”

“I don’t care,” Charlie growled, “I’m not helping with this anymore.”

“But you’d be okay with landing in the prison with me? If you rat me out, they’d have to question both me and you, don’t you think?” Dream asked, and when Charlie shoved him aside to keep walking (hesitantly. very hesitantly. he didn’t want to be in prison--not for eternity. but it was for the greater good, right?), he brought out his diamond axe. The one Charlie had enchanted. Well, if Dream was going to threaten his life it wouldn’t work. Obviously. “If you take another step forward, I’ll cut off your leg. Or arm. Maybe your fingers.” His teeth glinted from under the mask.

Charlie didn’t want to lose a limb. Or fingers, either, however small the body part was, he didn’t want to lose it. It’s not like he could just grow a new one while he was mortal. And if he died, it wouldn’t regenerate. He’d lose that body part forever until he shifted back. His God form would never lose it, sure, but he didn’t want to have to walk around like that forever just to have a foot or something.

He stopped walking, “I’ll kill you, then.”

“Can’t kill me without hands, can you?” Dream asked.

“I’ll kill you when I’m in my natural state then. You won’t be able to land a single hit on me.”

“Last I checked, it took quite a bit to shift, didn’t it? By then, well, who knows what might happen. I might lead someone here, maybe set off a firework, seriously, who knows? Plus, I thought you didn’t want to be like Schlatt. Seems an awful lot like you’d be abusing your power.”

He wanted to push that aside. It wouldn’t be an abuse of power if he was saving lives, right? And… then he’d have to bring the man home. Explain how he died. While still in his god form, quite possibly. It’s not like he’d be able to carry the man home, and he couldn’t just leave the guy in the forest and leave the SMP in unease for who knows how long, wondering what happened to Dream. And they’d ask how Charlie managed to kill the guy.

And Charlie didn’t want to kill someone. Not permanently. Never permanently. He made the mistake with Grizz and regretted it ever since.

He couldn’t kill Dream.

He couldn’t go to the prison. Dream would just leave before he got there (and he couldn’t just carry dream the entire way, way too much struggling), and continue with his plans without Charlie. Plus, even if Charlie somehow got Dream there, he’d rat Charlie out.

He couldn’t rat Dream out.

And there were the threats. Physical violence. He didn’t want to lose a limb. That was simple.

Charlie was trapped on every side. Fuck.

“Hey, I knew you’d come around!” Dream said after Charlie didn’t move away or say anything after a bit, just a single glare locked on his face. “Listen, we don’t have to kill Tubbo. Right? We’ll just separate Tommy and Tubbo. I heard Tubbo got married to Ranboo?”

“How do you even know abo--”

“Ranboo and Tubbo can have each other as company. They’ll be fine,” Dream shrugged, “And we wouldn’t hurt Tommy, he’d be fine with us.”

“As long as we’re not killing anyone.”

“I mean,” Dream pursed his lips, “You already killed Sam. Twice. But, if you say so!”

Dream seemed to be much happier now that Charlie begrudgingly followed him further in the forest, continuing the way to Technos.

It would be fine, Charlie reasoned, everything will be fine. And this way, I can keep an eye on Dream. Make sure his plans don’t get too out of control.

Everything would be fine. It repeated like a mantra in his head throughout the rest of the trip. It made up for the lack of talking, not that he wanted there to be talking. He was not in the mood anymore.

He shoved his cloak (not a coat. he thought cloaks were much cooler than puffy jackets, but he never got to use his cloak as often as he wanted to) on him when he saw Techno’s cabin in the distance. Attached was what he assumed to be Philza’s cabin. And in the mountains in the distance, he saw a boxy home. Maybe Ranboo’s house? He hadn’t been over there before though, so he wasn’t sure.

He took a deep breath, “So, what’s the plan here?”

Dream grinned.

~*~

Technoblade wasn’t sure what to think about the Dream situation. He didn’t have anything against the man, sure, but he was a little concerned for what might happen with the man on the loose. Not directly because of Dream, more so because people become a little crazy under stress. And the entire SMP is under a lot of stress with him out.

He wished he had Philza to talk to about the situation other than his voices which were--

We’re great company!!!!
Can we stop sitting down lol this is so boring
I cannot wait to see Dream again
Techno is boring arc canon 100%
Ew feelings does someone have any blood
Just ask Techno for some--

--not that helpful, to be honest. He clutched his head. He couldn’t remember where Philza said he was off to. It didn’t matter where he was, not when Techno needed him here.

He had a feeling that Charlie had something to do with this, even if it was a very large stretch. Usually, he would’ve thought it to be like, someone with half a brain who broke Dream out of prison, but that weird question about Techno’s opinion of Dream was really strange. It came out of nowhere, and it didn’t help with the fact Charlie seemed to be creating an entirely separate base when he asked, definitely not for his own sake.

The man couldn’t lie to save his life, Techno had learned this.

He stared at his nearly empty cup of tea and debated refilling it. It was late afternoon now, and Techno didn’t see any repercussions for having tea. Even if it might have been caffeinated. Satisfied with his decision, he stood up to make himself another cup.

But the door got knocked on instead.

He was going to ignore it, but his morbid curiosity about whoever was at the door (and the voices chanting for him to open the door) outweighed his carelessness.

Who knows, maybe it was Dream.

Techno chuckled at the thought.

He turned the doorknob and pulled, wind brushing against his face and whipping his hair around. Charlie stood on the other side, arms crossed and foot tapping as if he was irritated, but it’s not like Technoblade had kept him waiting for that long. Techno wondered if he should’ve put his mask on before he opened the door, but Charlie had already seen Techno without it on when he killed him. It was fine, if not making the man a little uncomfortable.

“Slime,” Techno said, “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” Charlie asked, already making his way inside. The man had a lot of bravery for storming into his house like this, Techno would give him that. He was just lucky that Technoblade didn’t feel like murdering anyone today.

“Yeah, just let yourself in, make yourself at home,” Techno half mumbled to himself since the man wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying.

Ayo Charlie sus?
I can’t believe you just said that
Why is Slimecicle mad???
Does he have Dream with him? I bet he does--
Finally something interesting
is now a bad time to yell blood for the blood god

Techno shut the door behind him and approached his fireplace, ignoring the new resident in his home. He pulled a couple of logs from the side of it and placed it in the pit, then some kindling. He grabbed flint and steel and then lit a fire, immediately feeling the warmth from the fire.

Then he walked up to Charlie, “Care to explain yourself?”

“What do you think about teaming up with Dream?”

Techno scoffed, “What, do you have him on speed dial or something?”

“Something like that,” Charlie shrugged.

Techno was about to question what that could mean, when Charlie pulled out a bucket of milk and tossed it in the direction of his kitchen, which was weird as fuck, until he noticed the tiny swirls dancing through the air around the area he was aiming at. It was caught by an invisible arm, and swallowed in the same time it took to catch it, making a man in green slowly fade into view, smiley face mask prominent as ever upon his face…

HOLY FUCKING SHIT-
DREAM WE MISSED YOU XOX-
NO, WE DIDN’T GO BACK TO H E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS GREEN BITCH
I KNEW CHARLIE HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE PRISON BRE-
FUNNY PUN MAN IS WAR CRIMINAL????? NOT CLICKBAIT
STOP MAKING JOKES WTF WHY IS DREAM HERE
TECHNO YOU BETTER KICK HIS AS-

As expected, the chat was freaking out. He shoved aside his personal questions (and chats) for the time being and studied Dream’s appearance. He seemed fine in general, aside from a bruise that seemed to have just bloomed on his jaw. He wondered if that had anything to do with Charlie. Techno glanced at the man, and nodded towards Dream, “Did you give him that bruise?”

Charlie grinned, “Sure did. What do you think of it?”

Chat laughed at it. Techno frowned.

“What’s going on?” He asked, “Are you two… partners? I-I don’t-”

He cut himself off and looked to the two of them to fill in the blanks.

“We are,” Dream said, “Though, I prefer the term associates better than partners.” He paused, leaving Techno to come up with hundreds of questions in the meantime. Like, why are they partners in the first place? How did Dream get out, was that because Charlie broke him out? Again, why? Does this mean that Charlie was the one to kill Sam? How had no one found out yet? (charlie’s so bad at lying how the fuck had no one found out yet--) “Now, what do you think of teaming up?”

Techno glanced between the two of them. This had to be some sort of bad hallucination, a horrible one. Maybe there was something in his tea? Techno thought he was above poisoning himself, but who knows when apparently, Dream could just break himself out of the prison? Nothing was straightforward in this server anyway.

“What would that entail?” He asked, and raised a brow. He might be up for it, as long as they weren’t going after Phil or something.

“Eh, a little blowing up of Snowchester, maybe a little thievery,” Dream said, reminding Techno of Tommy at that moment. Little raccoon. “Taking back control of the server. That’s probably it.”

Charlie opened his mouth, seeming to want to object, but Dream shot him a look, making him shut his mouth. Techno wondered what that could have meant. Did they have other plans they weren’t telling him about?

But, if that’s all it was… “Sure. Where’s your home base?”

Dude, I’m so betrayed right now
Yes, yes, yes, yES, YES, YES, THE CONTENT OMG--
i zone out for like ten minutes and techno’s making a deal with the devil what the fuck
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
Please tell me this is a very unfunny bit
BLOW UP SNOWCHESTERRRRR
GET THAT BREAD TECHNO

So they set off from Technos after rummaging through his chests to get the very basics since they’d be coming back later.

If they had stayed more than a minute longer, they would’ve been intercepted by Sam and his notepad. Questioning glares and all.

But instead, Sam was left to find an empty house, and more peculiar, an empty bucket on the ground, milk gathered around the rim.

~*~

“Do you think we’ll actually ever find Dream?” Tommy asked, combing his hands through his hair.

“Yes, we will,” Tubbo said determinedly, “How could we not?”

Ranboo watched from the corner, shadows cloaking him. They didn’t know he was there, but then again, Ranboo wouldn’t remember them there in the morning anyway, for his eyes were purple, and his head filled with clouds.

“I reckon you’re right, Tubbo,” Tommy said, nudging the other boy with his elbow, “I reckon you’re right.”

Ranboo stood there from the corner, watching, head fogged with clouds.

Hopefully, they will be right.

~*~

“You’re lying to him,” Charlie whispered to Dream when Techno strode far enough away from them.

“I don’t see the harm in it,” Dream whispered back, “He doesn’t need to know about all our plans, does he? What would he think if he knew we were going to kill Tubbo?”

“Well, I don’t think he would care, honestly,” Charlie shot back, which surprised Dream. Did Charlie really think that low of Techno? Or was it just in response to the guy killing him? He needed to get over that. “What I’m concerned about is when--”

“If.”

“--if Techno finds out and thinks he’s being used. That wouldn’t go smoothly.”

Dream kept quiet because he was using both of them for his needs. He wasn’t guilty about it by any means, but they didn’t need to know that. Although, he thought Charlie already knew at this point. He’d be an idiot not to, especially with all the threats and blackmail, which he was surprised even worked on the man. Apparently, bringing up morals was all he needed to do.

When Charlie shot him a questioning glare, Dream sped up to get to Technoblade and away from Charlie. He didn’t understand. Dream needed to work on that.

When the forest seemed to set into a comfortable silence, at least for Dream, he asked Techno, “So, know any good creeper spawners?”

Chapter Text

Charlie was supposed to be doing something. He was supposed to be up and about, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to just be lying about like he had nothing to do.

It sucked then, that that was exactly what he was doing. Tragic, really.

Charlie was laid down on the freezing wood, soaking up the last moments before Technoblade and Dream would eventually stomp into the house, bringing with them slush and snow, dirtying his floors--which was honestly more antagonizing than whatever shit they pulled outside of that. He literally--he had a mat, right next to the door for them to wipe their feet on!

Still, aside from that, his eyes were shut and he rested easy for the first time in a couple of days, completely at ease for once. The knowledge of Dream (or technoblade too, really) coming back at any second was shoved to the farthest part of his mind and he just laid there, with the nails that stuck out of the floor digging into his head and twisting his clothes, boards creaking slightly when he moved his leg, the only sound in the room besides that being his breathing, quiet, but there all the same. His heartbeat pushed against his rib cage, and he was acutely aware of each thump.

He was uncomfortable, but couldn’t be bothered to move.

He’d take this over burning down a house, though, as in his opinion--this was much less… uh. Dramatic? Terrorizing? Both of those could work.

He pushed his glasses up from his nose and placed them on the floor, rubbing his eyes in return.

This was quite possibly the most relaxed yet anxious moment of his life—ignoring the glaring obvious other memories from his past.

Yet, he was just about to doze off, with his breath finally settling to a gentle hum and the nails no more annoying, when the door creaked open and he heard a familiar, “Heh?” From the front door.

Charlie briefly waited for a second set of footsteps to be heard, and an accompanying, “Come on, you’re better than that.” From a masked man--but neither of those things came, so Charlie quickly sat up and put his glasses back on, adjusting them when they slipped down his nose. He dusted off whatever dust he could have possibly accumulated during his time on the floor (which was zero dust), and turned to face Technoblade, standing in the doorway with the most fashionable outfit, gold practically dripping off of the man, netherite axe strapped to his back—

“What’re you doin’ on the floor?” Techno asked, shutting the door with about as much grace as a chimpanzee. And by that, I mean, he fucking slammed the door which made Charlie flinch from the sudden noise.

“Where’s Dream?” Charlie ignored the question, and stood up fully. He hoped he didn’t look as disoriented as he felt. He probably failed.

Techno shrugged, and pulled the axe off his back with a heavy swing, “I don’t know. The man does what he wants.”

“He’s a criminal. He shouldn’t be left alone—not with everyone after the guy!” Charlie exclaimed, quickly going into overdrive with the possibility of Dream being caught.

“If he gets caught that’s not my problem,” Techno said, marching into the house further.

“But—“ Charlie wanted to continue, to explain that if he got caught Dream would definitely just spit out his secret to anyone who’d listen, but Charlie wouldn’t be able to explain without somewhat outing the fact he even had a secret that’s blackmail worthy, so he shut his mouth with an audible click instead.

“Again, not my problem.”

Charlie frowned, “Your apathy is showing, Techno.”

Techno rolled his eyes and slid off his cloak, “I’m surprised you even know what that word means.”

“I read books occasionally, believe it or not.”

“That’s insane,” Technoblade deadpanned and placed his cloak on a hook beside the door (oh, so he’d use the hooks beside the door, but not the fucking mat?), “Anyway, weren’t you supposed to burn down a house today?”

Charlie snorted at how casually he asked it, “In my defense, I don’t know why I need to do that.”

“I would do it just for the anarchy.”

“I don’t think that’s how anarchy works, Techno. And you weren’t the one who told me to do it in the first place, so I’m not sure you can tell me why I should do it.”

“You’re right, only I can,” Dream said, tapping Charlie on the shoulder, who looked behind him to see the green man appear right beside him.

“What the shit?!” Charlie shouted, scrambling away from the man that just fucking appeared beside Charlie. “What the actual fuck?”

Dream wheezed, “You’d think your reflexes would be better--I thought you’d at least hear me enter, but,” He shrugged.

“How’d you get in?” Charlie asked, realizing the man had probably used an invisibility potion (for a prank, his mind helpfully supplied, which only made him angry), “Wait, when’d you get in?”

Dream made a so-so motion with his hand, “Long enough to see you just lay on the floor, depressingly. It kind of reminded me of when Tommy was in exile--”

Techno tensed, along with Charlie.

“Let’s switch the topic back to arson, yeah?” Charlie nervously asked.

“Mhm,” Dream hummed, “I was just making conversation.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie nodded, “So… since you’re here, why do you want me to burn down a random person’s house, again?”

“I thought I already told you.”

“Sure, but--”

“This conversation does not need to include me,” Techno interrupted, “So, I’m leavin’.”

Dream looked at Techno, and even though he had a mask that covered half his features, Charlie could tell that it was a Look. While he was curious about it, he still didn’t want to know the meaning of. Dream spoke, “Sure. Be back by when we arranged.”

Okay, so they had plans that didn’t include Charlie. Great. That should’ve been a good thing, considering that probably meant they’d leave him out of even more horrible things, but it made him slightly unsettled. It meant that he couldn’t really do damage control on the situations they left him out of… which wasn’t great.

Technoblade nodded and left the house again--Charlie was surprised the man even entered his hobbit hole to begin with, considering how regal he looked and how unregal his house was, but he digressed.

“So. Arson. Am I right?” Charlie asked in a joking tone. It was a dumb joke, but it lightened the weight of Dream’s stare (that had returned to charlie when technoblade left) anyhow.

“Right, arson--why didn’t you burn down the house I asked you to?”

“Because it seems extremely unnecessary?” Charlie asked, “Do I even need to… explain this to you?”

He probably did. If anything, Dream was an emotionless bastard who didn’t understand anything other than his own goals and needs which--uh, Charlie didn’t really think he was exaggerating much.

“Hm. I guess it wouldn’t really accomplish much other than emotional…” He trailed off, presumably to add either “turmoil” or “manipulation” at the end of it.

“Yes, exactly,” Charlie sighed, relief flowing through him when Dream said that. “So, that means I shouldn’t do it.”

Dream shrugged, “I guess so. But that means you can help us blow up Snowchester now that you don’t have anything else to work on.”

…

“What.”

Like, Charlie knew he was going to have to do it eventually, or watch it happen, at least. But… right away? And if he said that they were going to have to steal Tubbo’s nukes to do it, did that mean they were going to have to use the nukes? What the fuck??

“Oh, come on,” Dream pish-poshed, “You didn’t think I was saying that a couple of days ago just for show, did you?”

“No,” Charlie started, “I just…” He stopped, trying to figure out a new path for the conversation to go, “Does that mean we’re going to have to steal the nukes to do it?”

Dream laughed, a fake one, “You think I’d use a nuke to explode this tiny place?”

“You tried to kill, like, two teenagers, so--”

“No, I wouldn’t use a nuke.” Dream sighed, “You’re an idiot, of course I wouldn’t use a nuke. That’d take out more than what we need. We’re just going to use TNT.”

Charlie pouted, albeit a bit selfishly, “But I live here. So does Tubbo, Foolish, and Jack. And so many more people--don’t you think it’s excessive? To blow up an entire community just because--why?”

“You’re a God, Slimecicle, why should a couple of human lives matter so much?”

Instead of answering that, because Charlie refused to answer why, he deflected and pointed out, “You’re human too. You’ll be dead eventually.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’re ignoring the fact your life is mortal.”

“You’re ignoring the fact you care about human lives--when you shouldn’t!”

“One of us has to,” Charlie said, “It keeps us human, when you care about others.”

Dream groaned, “You shouldn’t--It’s dumb, to want to stay human--not when you’re NOT HUMAN.”

“Should I become an apathetic asshole, then, Dream? Should I stop caring about others? If I took on the role you assigned to me--before even meeting me--you wouldn’t be alive right now. I wouldn’t even--I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, you’re proving to be more of a hassle than actually useful, it seems. So maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

“You’d still be in prison without me, dipshit. I don’t think I’m more of a ‘hassle’ than ‘useful’.”

“You’re still denying to help blow up Snowchester--don’t think I’m not ready to tell Technoblade about your secret.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, “It’s not like the threat doesn’t hang over me every second of every day.”

“So you’ll help?”

“I live here, man,” Charlie said, and crossed his arms, “I’m allowed to be upset.”

“If it makes you feel better, we won’t plant any TNT under your house. But there might still be some damage to it.”

Charlie bit his lip. It wasn’t really a matter of yes or no, because it was obvious he’d say to not put any TNT under his house--not after he spent so long on it--but he was still upset about the fact they were apparently going to blow up Snowchester. And even if they didn’t put any TNT under his house, there was still going to be plenty of damage to it--even if it would be minimal in comparison to the other houses in the area. Perks to living in a hobbit hole, and all.

He just hoped to high hell that his library wouldn’t be damaged. He had spent so long collecting books for it, and so many of them were much, much older than the people living on the server, it would be soul-crushing to see them all razed to the ground.

Still… it wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter. Dream still had his blackmail, as he reminded Charlie of it nearly every waking second, and Charlie sitll didn’t want to take the risk.

(was the risk of ruining the chance of a normal life slowly worth more than letting his normal life be ruined quickly?)

“Fine. I’ll help you blow up Snowchester, as long as you let me evacuate some of the people that live here first. Under an excuse, obviously.”

“Great.” Dream smiled.

---

Preparing for the explosion wasn’t as tireless as Charlie would’ve expected, though maybe that was because he wasn’t the one planting it. He was assigned to getting the sand and crafting the TNT, Technoblade coming in to give him the gunpowder for the recipes. Dream would then come in every hour or so, take the TNT Charlie had made, then leave with it.

He could only hope that he wasn’t doing anything they hadn’t agreed upon with it, but then again, Charlie couldn’t do much to stop him if he was.

It was a miracle they hadn’t been spotted doing it, but Charlie made sure of it that Dream was stocked the fuck up on invisibility potions while he ran in and out of the house. The ones that he had given the man earlier were supposed to last the better half of the day, but Charlie couldn’t be too careful. Dream still refused to take his mask off while he was outside, even though it would be much likelier he wouldn’t be recognized that way.

Luckily, every time Dream had come in, he was still invisible. Terrified the shit of him every time his door opened seemingly by itself, but by the sixth or eighth time it happened, the first emotion Charlie usually felt was relief that Dream hadn’t been kidnapped by Sam or something.

This time was no different. The door opened, Charlie recognized it as Dream entering, and just expected the man to take the TNT he made and go. That is not what happened this time.

Dream stopped by Charlie’s workbench and Charlie could tell because Dream leaned against it with all of his weight, which made the workbench shift and all of the ingredients move out of his workspace.

“What do you want, Dream?” Charlie sighed, exasperated.

“I’m just here to let you know about what comes after the explosion.”

“And what is that?” Charlie asked.

“It involves Tubbo.”

Great.

---

The sight of Technoblade and Dream standing together, flicking a lever to detonate the TNT--that was unsettling. Charlie thought he’d dream about it for months--that and the screaming, the sound of the explosions ringing out. Just another memory to add to the ever growing list of ones he never wanted to think about again.

He was just grateful he was able to distract Tubbo by the L’manhole for the time being. Prime knew what awaited him next, and that didn’t just include the remains of Snowchester.

~*~

Tubbo’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the smoking remains of Snowchester--luckily, no one he knew very well had gotten hurt, and those that did hadn’t been terribly injured--and he hastily wiped away the tears building in his eyes as he tried to point out where his house would have been. He couldn’t tell.

Funnily enough, Charlie’s house seemed to be the only one that was still standing, honestly. It wasn’t completely free of damage--the front wall had been completely blown out, leaving a gaping hole into the house, where anyone could peer in and see the mess that was in there. Maybe everyone should’ve built hobbit holes, considering this one held up so well.

He took a step forward, foot breaking a twig he hadn’t realized had been just in front of him. It blended in completely with the rest of the ground, honestly.

He just wasn’t sure. Where to go from here. He couldn’t--he couldn’t rebuild an entire community again like he had with L’manberg. (and wasn’t this a sight? the two places were practically the same now) His whole life had been here.

He took another step forward, like if he kept walking forward, the image of his house being blown to ashes would dissolve and he’d walk into an undamaged Snowchester again.

Stupid thought, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to brush it off.

He stepped forward again, this time being intercepted by a hand grasping him and pulling him back into the trees. Tubbo gasped.

He hissed when he saw who it was, God, that mask was unbearable as ever. “Dream. Of course you’d be the one to blow up a perfectly fine commute.”

“Where’s Tommy, Tubbo?” Dream ignored what Tubbo said, as if Tubbo’d ever tell him. It was a stupid question, though, he thought, it wasn’t like Tommy had moved since Dream’d seen him last. Not that Tubbo would ever let him know about that.

Still, Dream crossed his arms and bounced his leg, like he was waiting on an actual answer.

“I’m not telling you,” Tubbo tilted his head upwards in defiance, though he thought the effect was probably ruined because of his height. And, though it was probably dumb to ask these questions when he knew that Dream wouldn’t answer them straight on, “How’d you get out of the prison? Who helped you?”

Dream chuckled, “Wouldn’t you like to know? But you’re in no position to ask, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I’m not, am I?” Tubbo asked, and he’s not really sure what finally made him pull out his communicator, but he did. As soon as he started dialing for a public message, he realized quite quickly that Dream hadn’t been looking for answers to his questions, he’d been stalling.

Tubbo stopped breathing at the sound of quick footsteps behind him, the feeling of a person’s breath on his neck, and most noticeable of all, the feeling of a sword being pressed to his back, sharp with enchantments.

His voice was shaky, but as firm as he could ask he spoke, “Who are you?”

The person stayed quiet.

“My associate,” Dream supplied for them.

Tubbo snorted, “Too ashamed to face me head on?”

Dream only smiled, “No. Their face would only ruin the surprise.”

“Of what? You threatening me?”

“Not really. It’s more of when they’re revealed. And right now it doesn't have the best ambience, does it, Tubbo?”

“What’re you implying?”

“That we move to a place different from this,” Dream said.

Tubbo barely registered what that could mean as Dream spoke again, “Charlie, knock him out.”

“Charlie--?”

A flat metal object hit him on the back of the head, and Tubbo passed out.

This was great.

Chapter Text

Tubbo awoke slowly, blinking his eyes sluggishly as he tried to take in his surroundings. He tried to push himself into standing up, but his legs and arms pulled against rope. He looked downwards and realized that he was tied to a chair with rope—awfully cliche, if you asked him.

Despite how eye-roll-worthy the situation was, the tight rope was enough to mostly jerk him out of his haze, though his head still ached. He twisted his body the best he could to observe his predicament, and from what he could tell, it was an obsidian room with some sort of lava source behind him—judging from the burning heat he felt against his back. Sweat slicked his clothes, so he’d probably been sitting here for a while.

There was an iron door on one side of the room without a button or lever next to it. He could hear some voices arguing on the other side of it, but only barely.

His head was pounding, and if he were any more lucid, he would’ve tried listening in, but the mere thought of trying to organize his thoughts well enough to start comprehending what was going on floored him.

Still, Tubbo tried to scrounge around his thoughts for whatever happened last. Unfortunately, he could only remember flashes.

The sound of TNT heard in the distance–

Snowchester, blown to pieces–

Dream standing among the wreckage—

Betrayal, pain, and–

He could hardly remember his final moments before blacking out, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Based on the fact he needed as much knowledge as he could to get out of the situation, probably a bad thing.

Either way, he needed to find a way out of this place immediately and warn everyone he could. Especially Tommy and Ranboo; they were likely in the most danger.

Unfortunately, that plan would have to wait as the door in the room opened for two people to walk in. And while usually, that wouldn’t fuck with him, it was who those two people were that did.

Technoblade and… Charlie.

“—I mean, doesn’t this go against—” Charlie was saying, but stopped instantly, once he saw Tubbo.

Pure shock coursed through Tubbo as he tried to race through his memories to come up with some idea as to how Charlie could be behind his kidnapping.

Charlie seemed just as surprised to see Tubbo, but that was probably more because Tubbo was actually awake than anything else.

“You’re awake,” Techno observed. He leaned up against the wall in a relaxed position, arms crossed.

“What a bloody good observation!” Tubbo shrieked, “What the fuck is going on? Why is Charlie here?”

Charlie rubbed his neck awkwardly, “Funny you should ask that…”

A sudden thought came to Tubbo, “Don’t tell me Dream kidnapped you too?”

Admittedly, it was a stupid thought. Charlie wasn’t tied up at all, and the thought that they’d need Charlie enough to not tie him up was funny. Charlie couldn’t do anything… unless the theory about him being a god was correct? But how would Dream have…

Did Dream kidnap Charlie only to use his supposed god-powers to have more control? But if that were true, what the hell was Charlie doing just standing around? Couldn’t he just leave?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Charlie burst out laughing, slightly hysterical, “No! I’m not. I’m not kidnapped.”

Tubbo stared, “Then… What are you doing here?”

There was a pause, where neither Techno nor Charlie said anything. The click of the iron door sliced through the tense atmosphere and Dream waltzed into the room, cackling, “What is he doing here? He’s the one who kidnapped you!”

Charlie jumped, “Stop fucking walking into rooms without warnings!”

Okay, and now Dream was in the room. The trio of the century, goddamn. What the fuck were they all doing together?

Aside from that, Tubbo was reeling from the information. It couldn’t have been true, prime knew Dream was a fucking liar half the time—not to mention Charlie wouldn’t hurt a hair on anyone’s head.

Dream shrugged in response to Charlie’s outburst and turned back to Tubbo, squinting a little against the bright orange glow. “I’m just informing Tubbo. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

Charlie looked over at Tubbo, staring at the teen. “No, he doesn’t. The whole—I was supposed to remain innocent in this!”

“That plan went out the second you joined the server!” Dream shouted back.

“Hold on, you’ve still not answered my question!” Tubbo shouted back, just as aware they never had to. “How the hell is Charlie—the man who makes goop jokes every twenty seconds—involved in this?”

Techno snorted, “Dream already said. He kidnapped you.”

Charlie shrunk under Tubbo’s glare.

Tubbo sighed, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Let’s say I believe that. Why would Charlie kidnap me?”

Charlie stayed silent, but Dream grinned from underneath his mask, “Well, he’s working with me. Isn’t that right?”

“What?” Tubbo choked. He wasn’t sure how to… in retrospect, fuck, it was a little obvious with the way they were all buddy-buddy (somewhat) in the same room, but that still didn’t answer why. Tubbo rummaged through his memories like they were a stack of folding cards, suddenly remembering the fact that Charlie’s house was almost completely unharmed in the explosion, and while that still didn’t answer why, that meant… “Wait, Charlie, you blew up Snowchester? Fuck you! You lived there too!”

“I-I really didn’t want to, I promise, man!” Charlie stumbled over his words. His arms flailed back and forth a couple times before settling into a cross over his chest.

“Like hell he didn’t want to!” Dream growled, shoving Charlie back a couple of inches, “This man—” Dream broke off into a quick set of giggles, “---This man,” He continued, “Broke me out of prison! He made me new gear, enchanted it to high hell; kept me undiscovered from Sam—I mean, he literally murdered the guy—and he made the damn TNT to blow up your, what even was it? Your ‘commune’? Cute. But get this! I still hold all the playing cards! I’m in control!”

“I didn’t want to do any of that!” Charlie shouted back.

Dream fucking laughed, “Yeah, sure you didn’t. Mr. Oh-so-innocent.”

Techno snorted.

Charlie shot a murderous look to Techno, “Shut the fuck up, Technoblade.”

Meanwhile, Tubbo sat… shellshocked. His mouth was agape. Mind turning. Charlie did all of that? This Charlie?

Then again, Tubbo stared at Charlie for a second. Actually looked at the guy. All of the Charlie parts were there, the hair, glasses, t-shirt, weird… goop texture, and the red sneakers. But it was all off. This Charlie wore a scowl like it was second nature. This Charlie had a scar that wrapped around his forearm. This Charlie had eyes that were ablaze with something terrifying.

Tubbo couldn’t trust what Dream was saying, but it wasn’t boding well. The facts were clicking together all a little too well. It didn’t help how Charlie wasn’t actually defending himself.

But it was still Charlie. Charlie Slimecicle.

It all just came down to, “Why? Sure, Charlie—sure, he–he did that stuff, I guess, but why would he do it?” Tubbo shook his head, and made eye contact with Dream, “And why would you want to work with him?” It just didn’t make sense for the god theory to be right in this context. Right? Wouldn’t Charlie be gone, do his own thing if he was a god?

That struck a chord with the two of the men apparently, though with polar opposite reactions.

Charlie’s eyes widened, and the rage that he’d previously seen on the man’s face dropped like a stone, replaced by unbidden fear. The man shot a look at Dream—

Dream, who immediately started to laugh after Tubbo asked.

“Dream, don’t say a fucking word.”

Techno seemed to finally actually be interested in the conversation happening like he wouldn’t already know.

“Oh, what does it matter? Tubbo’s not getting out of this place alive, anyway,” Dream snickered.

Tubbo’s eyes widened at the blatant admittal and became acutely aware of his heart beating in his chest. For the second time, the gravity of the situation dawned on the boy. Dream was in the same room as Tubbo. Dream had a penchant for revenge. No one knew where Tubbo was.

Luckily, it seemed like Dream was the only one aware of the plan about murdering Tubbo, as Techno’s and Charlie’s eyes widened at the mention of it. “Tubbo’s not fucking dying here! You said we weren’t going to!” Charlie exclaimed.

Dream’s head snapped to look at Charlie, and he took three steps forward to face the man. Their faces hovered a few inches apart. The slight amount of power that Charlie might have had in the situation evaporated before Tubbo’s eyes, and it was made clear who was calling the shots around here.

“And what are you gonna do? I thought you didn’t want your little secret to get out?” Dream mocked. Charlie clenched his jaw. “But, hey, by all means, go ahead.”

Charlie took a few steps back, and Tubbo watched as the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed when he swallowed. In a quieter voice, he spoke, “Tubbo’s a kid. You can’t kill him.”

If anything, that only made Dream grin wider, “I hate to say it, Slimecicle, but I’m not doing anything you,” He punctuated the word with a poke at Charlie’s chest, “didn’t inherently cause. If you didn’t want Tubbo to die, you wouldn’t have kidnapped him.” Dream paused, “You’re just as at fault here as am I.”

Charlie looked down, and Dream stared at the man a second longer before walking away from him and towards Tubbo instead, whose heart rate picked up into a stuttering drumbeat. If the god in the room couldn’t do anything to help, then he was as good as doomed.

Tubbo fixed a glare on his face nonetheless, trying to seem at least somewhat intimidating. It probably didn’t work, considering he was tied to a chair and literally had to look up to be making eye contact with Dream’s mask, but whatever.

Dream scoffed when he was a foot or two away from Tubbo’s chair, “You can wipe the intimidation tactic off your face, now. Act scared, I won’t judge.”

“I’m not scared,” Tubbo scowled.

Dream rolled his eyes, “You’re lucky you’re not dying now. And it’s not because I’m feeling mercy, I still need you.”

Tubbo’s heart dropped. He remembered Tommy, who was probably in as much danger as Tubbo was at the moment.

Dream grinned when he saw the fear creep across Tubbo’s face, then turned around to look at Charlie. The man had been standing and staring at the two of them, but snapped to more attention as Dream bored holes into his head. “Slimecicle! Deliver this letter to Tommy.” He waved around an envelope.

Charlie walked over, hastily grabbed the envelope, and glared at Dream, “I hope I won’t regret giving this to him.”

Dream shrugged, “Who’s to say? You get upset at a lot of minor things.”

Charlie didn’t say anything.

“What am I s’posed to do?” Technoblade asked, for once speaking up since the first time Tubbo woke up.

Dream studied the man. “Go with Charlie, I guess. If you really don’t want to hang out with me and Tubbo here.”

Techno’s eyes could be seen flicking both Tubbo and Dream’s figures up and down, then he waved his hand, “Yeah, no thanks. Might as well get out of this place while I’m at it.”

Ignoring that, Techno’s words did bring up a question that Tubbo had had the second he’d woken up. “Wait, where even is ‘this place’?”

“The prison,” Techno said.

“The prison?”

This didn’t look like the prison. Definitely didn’t look like Dream’s prison cell.

“Yes, Tubbo, the prison,” Dream mocked in a childish voice, “We’re using one of the holding cells, which is much better than what I was given. You’re being treated very kindly here.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Dream glared. Or, probably did. The mask and all.

“You two deliver that letter, I’ll be hanging out with Tubbo here,” Dream said, waving Techno and Charlie out of the room.

The two left, with Techno glancing back just once. His face was unreadable. Tubbo watched them leave, along with his fleeting hope.

“Yep, the two of us will be hanging out.” Dream grinned. “Y’know, the two of them never let me have any fun with you when you were out.”

Tubbo wished they’d come back.

~*~

Everyone had heard the TNT go off at Snowchester. And Tommy meant everyone.

Tommy hadn’t been able to move from his position in his house for a bit after that. Dream had blown something up. That was clear.

Tommy just wasn’t sure what, and if Dream had blown something up—who’s to say he wasn’t still out there? So Tommy waited. He waited, and he waited, shaking with his knees pulled up to his chest, and eventually, he mustered up enough courage to glance out the window.

The window provided no new information.

Which meant Tommy needed to leave his house.

Tommy had to leave his house.

Tommy dug around his chests for any type of armor, the first thing he saw being an iron chest plate and diamond boots. He quickly slid the armor on and didn’t bother looking for any more, just hoping that he wouldn’t run into Dream on the way there.

He had wandered around the server, seeing no major damage to anywhere that was near him. That left a couple of places, one of them being Snowchester. Tommy walked to Snowchester first.

Snowchester was no longer there.

Where was Tubbo?

Now, Tommy could’ve spent time searching the wreckage, but that wasn’t quick enough. He quickly grabbed his communicator and spammed Tubbo’s messages, and then after that, he spammed Ranboo’s messages.

Neither responded.

They should have responded. Snowchester was just destroyed, why wouldn’t they be monitoring their communicators? Sure, maybe Tubbo was distraught and wasn’t looking at his, but his husband should’ve surely been aware, right?

He saw a few people roaming the wreckage, but none of them had the clear signs of either of his friends.

Fuck.

He wandered for longer, calling their names every now and then like a parent who’d lost their kid, but didn’t hear anything. Tommy hadn’t thought that it would work, but it was a nail in the coffin.

As a last-ditch effort, he walked back to his house with the hope that maybe they were there waiting for him there. Maybe he was missing, not them, and they were worried and checking out his house for him.

His hope had risen the longer he thought about it, but once he got to his dirt hut once again, his heart plummeted. Not only because of the lack of people there, but because of the innocent envelope sitting on the floor.

A red wax seal held the envelope together, and Tommy’s stomach dipped with the weight of dread.

Delicately, Tommy kneeled on the floor and picked up the envelope. He broke the seal and pulled out the letter, unfolding the crinkled paper. On it were a few words scrawled in vaguely familiar handwriting, just enough to send a chill down Tommy’s spine.

Tubbo’s waiting for you at the prison. I think you know the rules.
- :)

The prison. Of course it was the prison. Nobody had fucking looked at the damn thing since Dream escaped—and with Sam doing all he could to try and find the lunatic, that left nobody to take care of the massive compound.

And nobody had thought it necessary to. After all, Dream wasn’t there anymore. Why would he go back?

Tommy clenched the paper in his hands.

To abduct his best friend, it seemed.

The letter didn’t mention Ranboo. Tommy had to hope that it wasn’t because Dream kidnapped him too.

Whatever.

Tommy wasn’t making any mistakes this time. He was going to bring others, too.

~*~

Dream was bored of waiting for Tommy. He was taking too long.

At this point, he was wondering if Charlie and Techno had even delivered the letter, even if they’d said they had. But if Dream left the prison now, he’d definitely be spotted by the population, likely on the lookout because of the explosion from earlier. Dream sighed, it was only Snowchester that had been blown up. They’d acted like it was another Doomsday.

Maybe it was because they thought it was Dream who did it. Well, they were wrong. It was Charlie.

Luckily, standing around in the lobby of the prison had its benefits, because not more than twenty seconds had passed and Tommy walked into the prison. Strength particles swirled around him, a cute effort of defense.

Dream smirked, “Tommy.”

“Dream. Hand over Tubbo,” Tommy demanded. As he was shaking like a leaf. What a sense of honor.

Dream quirked his eyebrows, “Oh? What will I get in return?” He asked, a lilt in his voice. “I won’t just give him to you.”

Tommy sighed, nearly stumbling over his words. He tried again, “...You can have me. Instead.”

Dream fully grinned this time. “As long as there aren’t any tricks. You can call off your posse.”

“I’m alone, Dream.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Tommy glared, “Well, I am. What else am I supposed to say?”

Dream studied the boy, then shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I have friends, you know.”

Tommy scoffed.

“Attitude,” Dream muttered, then gestured, “You stay here. I’ll be getting Tubbo.”

~*~

“Slimecicle!” Dream called, tossing an invisible potion at the man who had jerked to attention once his name had been called, “Drink this. You’re coming with us.”

The god downed the potion, confusion littering his face. He disappeared from view, but his footsteps could be heard approaching the three of them.

Dream could feel Tubbo shaking beside him, Techno’s breath hot enough to feel on the back of his neck. Soon enough, Dream would have it all.

—

“Can’t you move any faster?” Dream growled, tugging Tubbo once again.

“Stop pushing him!” Tommy shouted. “We’ll get to your sketchy area when we get there.”

Dream paused and looked around at the trees surrounding him. “Actually, I think this is a good spot.” He threw Tubbo to the ground, a sword pointed at his back. “Tommy, are you ready?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Yeah. Could you have picked a place more remote?”

Dream crossed his arms, “It’s only so people can’t find us,” He slid his eyes to the quivering boy beneath him, “Or him, for that matter.”

Tommy sighed.

“Guys, I think it’s time,” Tommy called out.

Dream hummed, “What do you mean? It’s only the two of–”

His sentence cut off once the people started to fade into view, milk buckets appearing and disappearing as the people did. Dream scoffed. Of course Tommy would have brought other people. But… in that case…

Dream laughed, “Of course you did this!” The people surrounding him pulled out their weapons, and Dream scoffed at them, “Charlie, Techno, I think it’s time.”

He could feel the confusion ripple through the crowd as they recognized one of the two names, but not the unassuming man. Just as expected. Dream turned around to see Technoblade fade into view, but not Charlie. Unfortunately, also just as expected.

Dream supposed that maybe forcing the man into transforming into his god form before leaving would make him not want to reveal himself, but at least Dream had a bargaining chip, “Charlie, if you don’t reveal yourself, I’ll kill Tubbo.”

All the people surrounding them gasped, and Tubbo whimpered when Dream’s sword was pushed a little further into the boy’s back. “Charlie…” Dream warned.

“Fine! Fine!” Slimecicle succumbed, fading into view without the assistance of milk. He was vastly different from the normal man he was before, with golden veins showing through his skin. The purple shine of enchantment curved over his arms and cheeks, and particles fell from him like an ever-present raincloud. His eyes shone white under his glasses, reflecting off of the glass and creating an almost halo-like effect. “Don’t kill him.”

Dream shrugged, “Well, Tommy broke a rule. He invited his friends.”

Tommy was gaping, as was everyone else in the mass that had appeared, “Wait! They’re not my friends! They just heard about it—they followed me!”

“Aw, Tommy, you think I’m believing that?” Dream teased. “Slimecicle, remember the threads I hold over you as I do this.”

Charlie sucked in a breath, “Do what?”

“This.”

Dream plunged the sword through Tubbo’s back, hearing both him and his other half scream out.

Chapter Text

Charlie thought, now more than ever, that he regretted ever joining the Dream SMP.

And maybe that was obvious, because duh, but Charlie did. He regretted it.

When he’d been sent that invite for the damn server to begin with, he had thought it was his savior. Finally, he would get the chance to be normal again. Take back his life; stop server hopping, stop wandering. Have a normal, average, existence. Begin again from scratch, a complete blank slate. He’d wanted it so badly. He did now, too, regardless of how his hopes and dreams (ha!) had been crushed in this server.

He wanted to avoid his old life. Pretend like this server was all he had, all he’d ever experienced.

Standing in the middle of a forest, golden eyes focused on the child in front of him, Charlie realized that was never going to happen.

Tubbo was shaking, retching, and hacking up pink-stained saliva. His body—now that Charlie was focusing on it, it seemed quite small—shook violently.

And he looked at Tubbo, stared, really, in aghast horror—he looked at him—and he realized that it was never going to happen. He would never wake up without some looming past hovering above him, he would never be cleared of his conscience of all the shitty things he may have done. He would never…

He wouldn’t get the past back. And Charlie wasn’t sure how to process that—andfuck, yeah, maybe it was a little shitty to be thinking of all the things he could’ve been without those goddamn years, so long ago, while Tubbo bled out in front of him—yes, Charlie knew that it was a shit thing to do. Yes, Charlie knew.

He did.

Or maybe he didn’t.

Time had seemed to slow from the second Dream had plunged that sword through Tubbo’s stomach, moments ticking by at a snail’s pace. Charlie swore he could hear the beat of a clock in the time between then and now. He supposed it was a good thing, because right then he needed the time to think of all he’d done wrong—and to really realize that he had messed up.

That Tubbo was really going to die, and all because Charlie had clung onto some small hope that he’d be able to gather the threads of a long-lost life and knit them back together with too-worn needles.

He flicked his eyes over to glance at the man at the center of it all—Dream—and he was just standing there. Smiling, smiling, all happy-go-lucky, eyes crinkling up at the edges like a failed artist’s painting.

And Charlie didn’t know what to do.

Time smoothed back, speeding back up again—ticking of a clock resuming its usual pace.

Tommy was screaming—prime damn it, almost everyone was screaming, but Tommy’s had to be the loudest, heart-wrenching scream of them all. He immediately leaped into action, dropping next to Tubbo on the ground, cradling his friend’s face in his hands.

“Tubbo,” The words nearly tore themselves out of the teen’s throat. “Tubbo!”

“Say your goodbyes, Tommy,” Dream commanded, his eerie grin still stretched cheek-to-scarred cheek.

And Charlie was still standing there, as he hadn’t moved an inch since the second he’d been revealed. He didn’t know what to do. And what could he do? What did he want to do? What would Dream do if Charlie did something?

One fist raised hesitantly to cover his mouth, the other clenched uselessly at his side. Charlie was no God of Healing. He’d never been one to toe the line of life and death, that had never been his role.

“What are you guys doing?!” Tommy screamed, “Help us! Kill Dream!”

That seemed to do it, as the rest of the people in the clearing startled out of their stupor and drew their swords, but Dream stopped them with a smug look. “Ah! But you can’t kill me—” He wrapped his hand around Charlie’s forearm, “--Slimecicle will kill you before you get the chance. He might even kill Tommy, and you wouldn’t want to lose both of the little runts, would you?”

Tommy’s eyes widened, shiny with tears of desperation and hatred. He turned towards Charlie and narrowed his eyes, hugging Tubbo tighter, “You. You’re the whole fucking reason this happened! You can try and take him away from me.” His knees finally gave out, coming down from a squat to totally enveloping Tubbo. Despite the mud and undergrowth of the forest, Tommy didn’t look at all keen on moving away from his best friend.

What would Dream do if Charlie turned against him?

The question repeated in Charlie’s head, and a manic giggle built up in Charlie’s chest. What would Dream do? The laughs crawled up his throat and spilled out his mouth—Dream, the one who’d ruined his fucking life on the damn server—Dream, who wasn’t even—

It finally hit, how stupid of a question that was to think.

Charlie was a damn god, and Dream was not—but it seemed both of them got the roles mixed up.

The worst Dream could do had already happened—Charlie had already been exposed, and he wasn’t sure what else the man could do to him. Find his friends, maybe—using that other person he had on his side that Charlie didn’t even know the name of—sure.

Charlie was done with Dream’s game.

Dream’s smile wavered as Charlie continued to laugh, bent over with his handheld on his face in a way that must look manic, while the rest of the people in the small grove watched anxiously. Tommy stared, fist shaking as he clenched Tubbo’s shirt.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” Charlie tore his arm out of Dream’s grip. It stung a little, from how tight Dream’s grip had been.

Dream stumbled back a little, “What do you mean?”

“You think luring two kids out into the woods would be a good idea? You thought that you’d win, after stealing my life from me?” Charlie stalked forward, each step making little rocks and gravel jump on the ground. “You’re a damn fool. Not only did you get me involved, but you got the entire server involved!”

“You were supposed to be on my side!” Dream shouted, scrambling back as rapidly as he could. “Techno, kill him!”

Charlie shot one deathly glare at the pig-faced bastard, whose eyes widened slightly, and stepped back.

“Look around, Dream. Does it look like anyone’s on your side here?” Charlie asked. And Dream did. He turned around and he saw the people that surrounded him—none of which were making any move to join in. Whether it was because they were too afraid to get caught in the crossfire or thought Charlie could handle it, which he could, they stayed put.

Dream held his netherite sword out in a defensive stance. “You can’t do this! I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all! Condifiction, Bizly, Grizzly—all of your friends will be in danger! You can try and kill me—but you will fail.”

Charlie’s mouth twitched from a smile into a grimace. He narrowed his eyes and tugged Dream’s right hand to the side. The netherite sword wobbled in Dream’s sweaty palm. Charlie almost wished those threats still had some power over him, but the truth of the matter was that they only fueled him more. His life on the SMP was gone, he accepted that.

But luckily, that meant that Charlie could finally do what he’d wanted to do the entire time he’d been on the server.

Charlie summoned a sword from his inventory, letting the hilt fall into his hands. “You’ll regret threatening me. You’re over.”

Dream took one shaky step backward, “You forget! You enchanted my weapons! They’re as good as any God here!”

Charlie smiled. “You forget who I am, Dream.” The sword in Dream’s hands hummed to life, enchantments waking up and responding to Charlie’s call. The hidden enchantments Charlie had placed on them however long ago made their first appearance, growing a bright, glowing green.

The sword Dream had been holding in his hand flew out of them, the blade of the sword burying itself in the dirt in front of Charlie. He grinned, and stepped around it—he didn’t need any help from the tool. “The second you asked me to enchant your tools, it became mine.”

Dream stared for a second and scoffed, drawing out a basic iron sword instead, “That—that doesn’t change anything! I’ll kill you!”

For the first time since entering the server, Charlie finally felt like he had the power of a god.

“Try.”

The two of them charged forward. Dream slammed his sword down. Charlie’s rose just in time. A massive clang rang out in the clearing. The two swords almost summoned sparks, the way they clashed together. Dream’s sword pressed harder and harder down upon Charlie, forcing him to duck and roll.

Dream grunted as his sword fell to the ground, Charlie’s sword no longer holding it up. He took the chance to smash his sword on the back of Dream’s thighs.

He tilted to one side, unbalanced, but didn’t fall.

Charlie jumped to his feet once again, right behind Dream—who turned around immediately. He swung his sword out in an arc. Charlie jumped backward and crouched right below the sword.

It was swing, swing, swing. Charlie didn’t have any chance to go on the offense.

Still, he dared to glance behind him to check on how Tubbo was doing. A couple of the group had swarmed the boy, immediately tending to his wounds. Charlie smiled and turned back, happy the boy was going to be alright.

That turn was all it took.

A sword cut diagonally down Charlie’s face, arching across the bridge of his nose. A fiery pain lit his face, and he took the time to reach up with his fingers to touch the wound.

“You idiot!” Dream laughed.

His fingers came away with golden blood. He could already feel his skin trying to mend the wound together.

He could taste metal in his mouth. Huh.

But he couldn’t waste time—as it was, he’d already spent too much. Another flash of the sword came down, and Charlie had barely enough time to wrap his second hand around the hilt of his sword to lift it in time.

His grip was shaky, and maybe that was why it was so easy to knock the sword from his hands. His sword when flying. It landed several feet away from him, not close enough for anyone to grab it.

“You lose!” Dream cackled. “Who would’ve thought, God against mortal, and the mortal wins!”

Before Charlie could be intimidated further, he punched Dream in the face. The already cracked mask broke, a giant chunk flying off the side of it. One of Dream’s wild eyes could now be seen, and it was frenzied. It darted back and forth between Charlie and the other half of the mask that lay on the ground.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Dream cackled, “You’re gonna pay for that!”

Charlie stumbled over a rock as he walked backward, Dream taking his sweet time to walk up to the God.

“As it was always meant to be…” Dream muttered, “What can I say? I told you this would happen!”

Golden blood dripped down the side of Charlie’s face and onto the ground. A flower jumped from the grass, immediately crushed underneath his foot as he moved further backward.

“I hope you die, Dream, if not by me,” Charlie growled.

“Unlikely,” Dream grinned.

Charlie’s back hit the rough bark of a tree, his breath being swept from him. He stared at Dream, who looked to be enjoying the sight of the God looking for an out. And as far as Charlie could tell, there was none. An iron sword moved to rest at his Adam’s apple. Ever so suddenly, Charlie was reminded of the time he was killed by Technoblade.

Then, “Charlie!”

Both of the men whipped their heads over to see Tubbo, who’d crawled over to Charlie’s lost sword, holding onto the hilt of it with what had to be an iron grip for the boy, at least by his standards.

“Tubbo!”

“Catch!” With all his effort, Tubbo chucked the sword like a prime-damned frisbee at the two of them. Spinning through the air, it glinted in the light. It landed hardly more than four feet away from Charlie and Dream, who both glanced at each other—and then made a break for it.

Dream always had too big of an ego.

Charlie reached the sword first.

He shakily wrapped his hands around the hilt and took no more time to glance at Tubbo. He hoped the boy knew how much he was thankful for him, but for the time being, any more physical gratitude could wait.

Without waiting for any cue, Charlie smacked the flat side of the sword against Dream’s stomach. The mortal, unprepared, fell onto the grass. Charlie walked forward, and Dream scrambled backward on all fours. His sword lay abandoned.

“Wait, wait—Ranboo!” Dream screamed, in what seemed to be a last-ditch effort to save himself.

“Ranboo—? What–?” Charlie asked, confused, considering he hadn’t seen the boy anywhere since… well, awhile.

He got his answer soon enough once a burst of purple particles appeared in his vision and the lanky teenager stood in front of him. His eyes were completely indigo, no pupil in sight.

The boy seemed dazed, and if anything, was ten times less of a threat than that of Dream.

Charlie stared at him for a second. Was this the other person Dream mentioned time and time again?

A teenager?

Who couldn’t even look people in the eyes?

He pushed Ranboo aside. He’d never fight the kid, even if he was on Dream’s side. Glancing at the fog-ridden eyes, he didn’t think he even was.

The boy didn’t resist, and stepped a couple of steps further away than Charlie had pushed him, which Charlie took as a sign to continue.

“That was a pathetic attempt at saving yourself,” Charlie walked up to the man and laid his sword on the man’s throat.

“You know, in a hundred years, no one will even remember your name,” Charlie taunted, sword digging ever so slightly more into the throat.

Dream glared at him. “They’ll remember you as a tortured God.”

The tip of Charlie’s sword pressed a little deeper into Dream and the man wisely took it as a sign to shut up.

“You really just wanted to play pretend, huh? I mean, I can’t say much about it. I wanted to do the same thing. Just without the torture of a server full of people, you get me?” Charlie felt more of the golden blood from his wound fall from his face, “Any final words?”

Dream smiled, “I ruled this server as a god, Slimecicle. Something you were too afraid to do. Everyone was under my thumb! Even you!” The man coughed, spitting up blood. His smile remained unchanged. “I’ll always be better than everyone here.”

Charlie stared at the man. “You’re sick.”

“I’ll always be better!” Dream laughed. “Always.”

But still only mortal.

Charlie looked at Dream for a final time. There wasn’t anything spectacular about him, looking at him from this perspective. Just a desperate man. A burdened soul.

Without saying anything else, Charlie slit the man’s throat in front of him and watched the life fade from his eyes.

The clock of life slowed for just a second, then back to normal once again. Ticking just as it had moments earlier.

Dream was dead.

“‘I’ll always be better’,” Charlie mocked underneath his breath. He looked at the dried red blood underneath the mortal’s fingernails and snorted, “Yeah, right.”

He kicked up some dirt near the body and muttered in a quieter voice once again, “Yeah, right.”

Charlie dropped his sword, the tip still embedded in Dream’s torn throat. It fell in the mud.

And that was that.

Chapter Text

The clock chimed a low, drumming tone that echoed upon the walls. It settled in Charlie’s stomach. A week had passed, now, since Dream had been beneath Charlie’s sword, since Charlie had swept the blade across his throat, since the truth had been revealed. The server had been left in some sort of stasis since then, like everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
​
Well, no shoes had been dropped since, and people were cautiously continuing daily activities. Charlie hadn’t… uh… left his house much since the events of that day, so he wasn’t sure how to describe the atmosphere, but if it were to be described within a single word, it would have been hopeful. He could tell, outside his hole, that he had awkwardly slapped wooden planks over to fix the few holes that had been left on it, that people were rebuilding Snowchester. It was slow-going, heavy, burdensome work. At night, he snuck out to enchant their tools and then left before the sun could peek across the horizon. He hoped that it helped, but he didn’t like to face them.
​
From what he had heard echoing from the construction, there were talks of ripping the prison down, too. Supposedly, seeing the hulking obsidian jail looming over the server was leaving the people residing below it uneasy. Perhaps half of it was due to the fact that it was now empty. Something about the way it had worked itself into the landscape made people feel as though it were craving new prisoners. It was a larger task than rebuilding a tiny commune, but Charlie had heard many volunteering themselves for the burden after discussing it.
​
There were many burdens to take on now. Tubbo was healing, that was good. Tommy was organizing a smash-fest, where they were going to paint a bunch of white masks with smiley faces and then shatter them. Sam was working on a new “protect the minors” task force. Technoblade, surprisingly, felt bad or something because Charlie would see him in random areas around the server… just fucking around. Doing random shit, with a purpose. Charlie was pretty sure he’d even seen him planting flowers. With Tommy.
​
There was so much disbelief baked into Charlie’s face when he’d seen that, that when he had come home to take a shit, he looked at himself in the mirror and realized he had the same expression from 4 hours ago still on his face.
​
Despite all of the goings-on of the server, nobody had come to talk to him. Perhaps reactions were mixed, but everyone reacted the same when he would leave the house; stares would follow him like a clingy puppy. He was pretty sure it was because nobody knew what to really do with him.
​
He thought, maybe, hatred was the first response. Utter hatred. He’d hardly been in the server for however long and had immediately caused reckless anarchy in the server just by associating with Dream, not to mention the actions he actually took. He was the newest shit stain on the server, something caught on the bottom of a (pretty busted) shoe, something that never should have happened.
​
But the longer he adjusted to the stares, he realized it wasn’t exactly disdain that followed him. It was fear. It lined the people’s faces when he got too close for comfort, it wrenched them out of his path while he walked, it had them stuttering when he was within hearing distance. Fear, apprehension, anxiety, more drenched the server in a near restless jitter that had people knocking themselves over reacting to him. Some of it must have stemmed from the fact that nobody had expected it—both the idea that he had worked with Dream and killed him, and the idea that he was not a mortal being—something overwhelmingly unnatural. Perhaps the rumors of that fateful day in the forest had been twisted somewhat, but ultimately, everyone had seen the golden blood that shimmered on his face, had seen it react to the Earth in bizarre ways.
​
The long and short of it was: nobody wanted to pick a bone with their now-resident God. It left for lonesome nights, but Charlie was conclusively happy about that fact when it meant nobody would come knocking with questions.
​
Well. Almost nobody.
​

​
Sam had questions. Many questions, really. He’d been unable to make heads or tails of the situation with Dream, Technoblade, and Charlie. It had seemed like odd fate that Charlie had shown up in the clearing, like he was pulling one extravagant joke upon everyone there. And Sam had wanted to laugh, then, when he’d first popped in.
​
Wasn’t so funny after a second.
​
Then things clicked. Sam had been right. The clarity of the situation almost drowned him. Charlie had been hiding something. Many things, apparently. Not only did Charlie have an estranged relationship with Dream, but they had worked together. Not in harmony, it seemed, but together nonetheless.
​
Not to mention the whole… God… thing?
​
That was out of his scope. Sam had never been a believer in the overlording celestial deities that supposedly ruled the landscape, but…
​
It was a lot to take in. He could hardly imagine it. Sam remembered the first time he’d met Charlie, and the thought of that man being so engulfed with power that he had escaped mortal bounds? Sam was ready to become a disbeliever once again. He did, however, have to knock himself over the head with the idea that Mr. Puns had killed him twice, several times, because that thought was another that did not fit into his perspective of the world.
​
This did not scare Sam. He found it mildly enraging at best.
​
It did… reframe a lot of things, in retrospect. However, not everything had been reframed. And Sam still had questions. He got the idea that maybe Charlie had been blackmailed into working with Dream, but Sam wasn’t entirely sure about that. And he needed to know who, exactly, this Charlie guy was. This Slimecicle man.
​
Sam marched his way over to the hobbit hole, the whole scene being pretty surreal with charred ground and fresh scaffolding covering wreckage with a pristine hobbit hole knocked into the corner of the community, barely touched by the wreckage aside from a stray plank or two that looked as if they’d been haphazardly attached to the building.
​
He stared at the hole for a second, refusing to get angrier about the fact that that house had been excused from the debris of the explosions. Huffing, he approached the house. Gracefully, patiently, calmly, peacefully, he pounded on the door, “SLIMECICLE!”
​
On the last fist pound, the door fell from its hinges and landed square on a rug. Standing not ten feet away from said rug was Mr. Needs-to-fix-his-door, who was in the middle of dropping several potions on the floor.
​
“What the fuck?” Slimecicle asked.
​
“You have questions to answer!” Sam said, stepping over the door and straight into the heart of the home, which looked unbelievably unput-together. On a scale of mess to freshly exploded L’manburg, it was hovering right before L’manburg. The whole room had been reworked since the last time he’d been there. Workbenches were tipped over, potion stands were scattered amongst the chaos, sticks and wooden planks were just scattered wherever, with no obvious pattern, and Slimecicle was still dropping potions on the ground. “Are you gonna catch those?”
​
“Oh,” Slimecicle hurriedly scrambled to adjust his arm position, stopping the flow of falling potions. He looked at the mess on the floor, sighed, and then with that sigh came a full-body sort of reaction that led him to shift his arms again, and Sam watched in complete apathy as the God dropped every last one of the potions in his arms. Another sigh ensued.
​
“Busy?” Sam asked, an eyebrow raised.
​
“You could say that I’ve been brewing on some things,” Slimecicle said, a humorous edge to his voice. Sam was not impressed.
​
“You need to answer for your crimes.”
​
Slimecicle’s eyebrows rose, “I have those? I thought I only had slimes!”
​
“Are you okay in the head?” Sam asked, involuntarily.
​
“Um, probably not. Are you gonna arrest me?”
​
Sam stared at Slimecicle. Did he really want to arrest a God? No. Did he really want to arrest Charlie, either? No. The question arose, then. What was he really doing here?
​
“We need to talk.”
​
“I can do that,” Slimecicle said, abandoning his weirdly combat-prepared pose and sliding over to the table resting in the center of the room, which was, of course, covered in nonsensical objects. The God seemed hardly attached to them, because with one long sweep of the arm, they all went tumbling to the floor. He gestured vaguely for Sam to sit.
​
He did.
​
“Had you been working with Dream since you joined the server?” Sam figured it was best to jump straight into the meat and potatoes.
​
“No,” Slimecicle said, “I had just heard that he knew about some personal things…” Sam thought about the prison visits, “And then when I had gone to visit him… well.”
​
“So you were blackmailed.”
​
Slimecicle swallowed, “Erm. I guess technically? But…” He got a faraway look on his face, “I could’ve handled whatever he tried to do. So. I have more responsibility for everything that happened than someone who was just blackmailed.”
​
Sam stared at him. That was mature of him. Again, Sam wasn’t a believer. But from what he had heard of these supposed Gods or whatever, he thought they were all… pompous. Arrogant. When Sam looked at Slimecicle, he still saw a guy. A fucking awful piece of work, but a guy nonetheless.
​
“So are you gonna pull those actions again?” Sam asked after stewing on it for a second.
​
“What? No! Of course not!”
​
Sam exhaled, relaxing a little bit. He nodded, got up, and was in the process of taking one large step towards the exit when Slimecicle shouted, “That’s it?”
​
Sam turned around. “Yeah. As long as you’re not going to be a nuisance to the server again, I think we’re fine.”
​
“Don’t you want to know more about when I killed you? Or—or, about the God… stuff?”
​
Sam stared at him. “What am I? Your fanboy? I don’t care.”
​
Maybe that was a lie. The “I don’t care” thing, not the fanboy stuff. But, unfortunately, Sam couldn’t bring up any primal fear relating to the God, and, even worse, “he’s just a whittle guy” kept repeating in his head every time he locked eyes with him.
​
Slimecicle inhaled and scrambled to stand up, “Well, um, before you go—” He stumbled over to a chest and rummaged through it. Victoriously, he raised what he was looking for above his head and came over to Sam. He pushed several totems of undying into his hands.
​
“Where’d you get these?” Sam asked, closing a fist around the little golden figures. Sam had seen maybe a maximum of one or two on the server, and closed in his hand were almost ten of them.
​
“I made them.”
​
“You made them?”
​
“I’m the God of crafting, I can do what I want.” Slimecicle said, resting his hands on his hips.
​
The God of crafting…?
​
“Among other things,” Slimecicle said, and Sam realized he’d said that outloud. “Listen, I can’t give you your lives back. But I’m sorry that I took them. Hopefully these will help make up for the fact.” He paused, “Actually, can I have some of your blood?”
​
“What?”
​
Slimecicle had already poked his finger with a needle. Who knew where he’d gotten that, but within the one second that he did that, some of the blood had gotten on the totems. The totems emitted a strange green light for approximately less than a second, and then they were back to normal. “Boom. You now have totems binded to you.”
​
“What?” Sam asked again.
​
“I can do what I want. I’m the God of crafting and enchanting.”
​
“What did that do?” Sam asked, dropping them out of some primal fear. When they did not fall to the ground, instead floating up to rest near his eye level, he grabbed them again and shoved them into his inventory.
​
“Now you don’t need to be holding them for them to work! You’re welcome!” Slimecicle clapped his hands, and Sam suddenly felt the urge to ask more questions. However, he was almost pushed out of the door when he opened his mouth to speak again. Slimecicle dropped the smile when Sam broke the bounds of his house and shouted, “Don’t break my door ever again!”
​
Sam was about to ignore that when the door sprang back up into its original position. It seemed… sturdier this time. Huh.
​
Well. Sam had at least some of his questions answered.
​

Tubbo had watched Sam almost shoved out of the hobbit hole and envied his bravery. He wanted to go and ask Charlie so many fucking questions, and yell at him, and ask more questions, and then kill the guy. He also didn’t want to make eye contact with the guy who apparently glowed when he got too angry.
​
That left Tubbo to celebrate his genius in the confines of his own home (aka, recover in Tommy’s shitty dirt house with Ranboo while people were rebuilding). Charlie was a fucking God, and guess who’d called that shit first? Him!
​
All of the fucking dodging and weaving that Charlie had tried to pull while being questioned was all bullshit! Tubbo was the smartest motherfucker since sliced bread. That was to say, he was the most brilliant person since the Earth had been created, because sliced bread hadn’t actually been invented yet (he was working on that).
​
When he had first woken up, Tommy had been asleep on his chest. Tubbo had not spared a single fuck for that, and shot straight up—ignoring the shocking pain that sliced through his abdomen—waking Tommy in the process.
​
“Tubs?” Tommy had asked, a smile slowly widening across his face, “You’re awake!”
​
“I WAS FUCKING RIGHT!” Tubbo had said. He gripped Tommy’s shoulders and shook them vigorously.
​
“Y-y-you w-w-were r-r-right?” Tommy asked, through the shaking.
​
Tubbo sharply pulled his hands away from his best friend’s shoulders and held them to the sky, “I’m a fucking genius.”
​
“Tubbo, you’re always a genius,” Tommy agreed, “Maybe we should focus on more pressing matters. How are you feeling?

“I feel great. I feel like I could punch Charlie Slimecicle in the goddamn face, Tommy,” Tubbo said, making way to swing his legs over the—couch, he was on a couch—and do just that, when Tommy abruptly shoved him back down. “What the fuck? I’m fine!”
​
“No, you’re not,” Ranboo said, wandering into the room. “Why are we shouting at 5 am, by the way?”
​
“Who cares what time it is? Boo, we need to celebrate my genius now.”
​
“What genius?” Ranboo asked.
​
Big mistake.
​
“Charlie was the God! I told you all, and none of you listened. ‘I dunno, Tubbo, maybe he’s just weird,’ you said! ‘I-D-K, maybe this severely incriminating journal means jack shit!’ you said! I am the one who reigns above all! I figured it out!”
​
Tubbo had promptly passed out after that.
​
Either way, after contemplating it for a while, he finally was able to think about Charlie without crowing about how fucking smart he was and finally moved on to thinking about the implications. So, Charlie was a God. Okay. What did that mean?
​
Firstly, Tubbo was pissed that he had decided to side with Dream of all people, but he let that anger simmer while he thought about the fact that maybe he could let it slide because he’d also killed Dream, and looked sick while doing it. After that, he focused on everything else. Tubbo had many questions that were swarming his mind. Like, what the fuck happened with Technoblade killing Charlie that one time? Was that allowed? He thought Gods were meant to be fucking immortal, or some shit.
​
And for some reason, out of all of the servers to join, Charlie had joined the Dream SMP. Why? And what was he doing before he joined the server? Shouldn’t he be doing God shit? Also, what was up with the fucking diary Tubbo had found? So many things needed to be answered. Once Tubbo had been allowed to get off of Tommy’s (frankly disgusting) couch and walk around the server again, he had decided his first stop would be Charlie’s house.
​
Which he ended up not visiting. He had seen the guy wandering outside for the briefest of seconds, and dude… he looked different. Maybe he had, like, been hiding some of his features when he was pretending to just be a guy or something, because this dude that was walking around was built. And he had scars, golden scars, that wrapped each forearm. Of course, he still had a little slime creature balancing on his shoulder… but his gaze… the guy wasn’t even wearing glasses anymore!
​
But a week had passed. Tubbo needed to visit eventually. That’s when he had seen Sam leave the hobbit hole, seen the door spring up behind him like it had been tugged by invisible strings. Seeing Sam of all people being shoved out of the door left Tubbo feeling like he should come back another day. So he did.
​
He came back the next day, and this time, no one had been shoved out of the entryway before he could enter. Hesitatingly, his fist tapped against the door, and before he could enlist his fist for a second round, the door was essentially ripped off its hinges, and Charlie Slimecicle was staring down at the teen’s face.
​
“Tubbo,” Charlie breathed.
​
“YOU DICK!” Tubbo shouted, pointing a short index finger at the man, “WHAT THE FUCK!”
​
Charlie jerked his hands backward in a placating motion, “Oh. You mean the whole… kidnapping thing?”
​
“YES I MEAN THE KIDNAPPING THING. ASSHOLE!” Tubbo stormed into the house, eyeing the disastrous scene in front of him, “The fuck? What have you been doing since you almost killed me?”
​
Charlie abashedly scratched the back of his head, “Oh, you know. Spring cleaning.”
​
Tubbo leveled a look at the man.
​
“Really! You know, I have a lot of shit, even more shit that I need to burn since Dream touched it… ugh, speaking of, Tubbo…” Charlie sighed, “I’m so sorry. I… don’t have any excuse… for the way I acted.”
​
Tubbo stared at him. This was a classic Charlie reaction. He wasn’t really sure how to react, because, like, yeah, he hadn’t necessarily not expected Charlie to apologize, but also. Tubbo now knew that Charlie was a God and could lowkey do whatever he fucking wanted, no repercussions. He said as such to the man.
​
“Augh, fuck, I knew people were thinking of it like that!” Charlie threw his hands in the air, “Man, I’m still the same slimy guy I was when I came here. If I was,” he crinkled his nose, “really gonna throw a fit, I would’ve done it when I first got here.”
​
Huh. “I guess that makes sense.” Tubbo fell into one of the man’s dining chairs. “So where’s my apology gift?”
​
“What?”
​
“My apology gift. You blew up Snowchester, you kidnapped me, and you also almost killed me. I want an apology gift. You know how much it sucks to get stabbed? Also, like, isn’t it fucking embarrassing that you still live here and no one else does? Consider it your due rent.”
​
“Did Sam tell you about the totems?”
​
“The what?”
​
“Nevermind,” Charlie smiled, “Yeah, I can get you a gift. Actually, actually…” Charlie bobbed up and down, then lunged over to one of his chests. He tossed out loaves of bread, a block of slime, an entire anvil, and still did not stop.
​
“What the fuck are you looking for?” Tubbo said, leaning over from his position to get a better view.
​
Charlie whipped his head over, “You’re still here?”
​
“Uh, duh?”
​
“Dude, I can’t work on your gift if you’re still here.”
​
“What? I have questions for you!”
​
Something in the guy’s eyes sparkled, “I know.”
​
“So… can I ask them?”
​
“Let’s just say being present is not a gift,” Charlie said, eyebrows raised in childish joy.
​
“What kind of pun was that?” Tubbo asked, “I’m not leaving now just because you said that.”
​
“Yes you are. Goodbye Tubbo!” Charlie said, standing up, lifting the chair Tubbo was on, opening the door, and very gently placing Tubbo on the snow outside, “It was great meeting you!”
​
“Meeting?” Tubbo sputtered. “That asshole just doesn’t want to give me a diamond sword!”
​
Fine. That man could keep his secrets! Tubbo would leave if he was gonna be like that, the asshole. Tubbo didn’t even get Charlie to do any cool magic tricks before he left, either! That jerk!
​

​
People kept coming. Charlie needed to get a new door because one too many people had almost broken it with the incessant knocking. The day after Tubbo, it was Tommy. After Tommy, it was Ranboo. After Ranboo, it was Technoblade. Even Quackity had shown up, and with a mean right hook, too.
​
They all had some form of question to ask, none of which were really answered before Charlie forced them to leave. Most of them sputtered and complained, but they must have been at least sort of satisfied by the visit because they didn’t come back. Honestly, a lot of them were… goodbyes. None of them were particularly comfortable in his presence, and Charlie could tell. He did appreciate the time he spent with them, and laughed his ass off when Technoblade tripped on the slab of polished stone he had lying in the entryway, but he was… he was ready, at this point.
​
He was finished preparing.
​
Charlie woke up before the sun had begun rising.
​
He blinked once, then twice, then groaned and rubbed his temples. He stretched his arms above his head, joints popping. He rolled his shoulders, then got out of his bed. He winced at the cold floor and continued over to his closet.
​
He squinted at it for a second before grabbing the classic, and decided resolutely to expand his wardrobe past that of a cartoon character’s in the future. He got changed, then started to make his bed. He pulled the comforter to the top and fluffed the pillows, then he stepped back for a second to admire the fact that he actually made his bed. Very nice.
​
He looked at the rest of the room, the scattered wool, the half-torn down wall, the rug that was half-flipped up, and the torch that had been placed on the ground however long ago, flames almost licking the painting sitting behind it. Fire hazard aside, he had his work cut out for him. Groaning and moaning the entire time, he patiently organized the items, straightened the rug, and removed the cute, not-up-to-safety-standards flame before he decided that his room looked like a room again and not a contender for a fixer-upper show.
​
Moving to the kitchen, he broke some eggs over a pan and listened to the sizzle. While those were cooking, he sliced some bread and then dropped it on the floor. Pretending that didn’t happen, he popped them in the skillet next to the eggs to toast them, realized that the eggs were burning, scrambled (ha) to get them out of the pan, and then dropped those on the floor too. He scooped them from the floor and put them on a plate, and while he was doing that, he saw in his peripheral vision a bright orange light.
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Let’s put our thinking caps on, Charlie thought for a second, what is 1) bright, 2) orange, 3) could be related to the stove?
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The answer was fire. Charlie hastily put it out and still decided to eat the charred remains of the toast anyway. Being the God of food did not make him good at cooking it. The whole situation was probably what he deserved for having his mind in another place, anyway. He finished half of his eggs and threw the rest away. Charlie didn’t care that he didn’t feel exactly full after it.
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He washed the dish and put it back on its rack.
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Time to get started. He had finished organizing most of his items the night before. All he needed to do was collect a few things. He retrieved his worn leather backpack, retracing the runes he’d inscribed on the side to keep it from falling apart (it had been a very long time since he had gotten a new rucksack) and opened it. It wasn’t very large, but large enough to keep things from cluttering his inventory. He opened the chest beside him and piled in the potions he’d been crafting the past week, bottles clinking against each other as they were filed into the bag. Then, he grabbed some apples (APPLE, Schlatt had said… so fucking long ago) and threw them in there too.
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He shifted his weight and leaned over the chest to grab the thing at the very bottom. A freshly bound book, bound in leather and filled with fresh parchment. He grinned at the sight of it. A fresh start.
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He put the journal in the bag, along with a quill.
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He switched targets and grabbed the freshly forged armor and tools from the other chest. He had melted all of his previous weapons and just chucked all of the shit Dream had even brushed his hand against into some flames. He slid them into his inventory, figuring he might like to have them on hand. He closed the chests and sighed as he stood up. The library that he had very carefully trucked over to the house was still there, but he made no effort to retrieve any books. Instead, he let a grin take over his face as he scavenged for his dirty, scuffed fucking journal—the old one, the one Tubbo had found.
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For a split second, he almost put it into his backpack. Instead, he held it above the torch on the wall. He watched the pages curl and turn black and stamped on it by the time it was a charred rectangle. He tossed it in the garbage.
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Hell yeah, brother.
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He closed his backpack. He observed the room in front of him, satisfied with its condition, and left the hobbit hole, heaving his pack across his shoulders. He heard the door shut behind him and smiled.
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Charlie set off for the server borders. He’d make it by evening. After that, he wasn’t sure what he would do. At the very least… He was leaving the SMP for good.
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He had a few ideas about what he’d like to do once he left. First of all, he’d try not to be blackmailed a second time and almost kill a bunch of teenagers. Maybe he’d find Condi and Bizly again… apologize. He needed to apologize to them. So that was something on the bucket list. Maybe they could… do things, again, together. Hopefully without the stress of Godhood getting to them all again.
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Maybe he’d join another server, a particularly not-beginner-friendly one. He could avoid all of the mistakes he’d made on this one, maybe starting with the fact that he was God this time, and help them from falling into the pits the Dream SMP had. He could fix it up, maybe lend his gifts for the greater good.
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Maybe he’d return to his previous habits of hopping servers. Have a little bit of fun without getting too attached and then leaving. It had worked for a little bit, at least. Maybe he could make it work again.
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Maybe he’d start over. Find a new server, invent a new identity. Have the normal life he had craved since the beginning, have friends without his past hanging over him like an annoying cloud that never went away. Maybe, this time, it would stick, and no green freak would somehow get hold of his identity beforehand. Maybe he could pretend to be human again.
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Maybe he’d suck it up and return to his godly duties, to the other Gods, really. Maybe he’d finally put the others above his own happiness.
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Maybe.
​

That morning, members of the Dream SMP awoke to find random ass objects placed in their houses over the night, like the Goddamn Santa Claus had visited. Everyone had been given little totems, along with a few personalized potions. Tommy had woken to both of those things, plus a bucket load of white masks that had a note attached to them, saying “easily breakable.” Ranboo had been given a bag full of water resistance potions, plus the recipe for them. Sam had been given more totems, unbound, this time. Techno had been given an axe that would always return to his hand (and also a book on how to communicate, but the axe thing was cooler).
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Tubbo had received the totems. He had received some potions. He also received a note. A note that left him stomping over to Charlie’s house. He didn’t even knock before wrenching the door open. The slimy man was nowhere to be seen, and the house looked considerably more put together since the last time he had visited. A note had been left on the table for him, claiming the place was his to ravage, including the expansive library below the floor.
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Tubbo never learned where Charlie had actually gone after that day. He’d just been gone. It was strange, no know that he was really gone for good, but Tubbo had made good use of the library. And also everything else. The man had been holding out on them! Sure, he had made everyone personalized gifts, but the fucker had stacks of diamonds just sitting in chests, which he made sure to share with nearly everyone on the server.
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And slowly, the server started to heal. It was… great. People weren’t scared as shit anymore. Maybe tearing down the prison really had been a good idea. Even Tubbo had found some peace. It came in a house, with a room for Ranboo and a room for Michael, and even a guest room for Tommy (when he decided to be clingy). It came in being able to pick some flowers without feeling like he was wasting his time. It came in the dumb note that Charlie had left him, the one that had been taped to some bottles with totems.
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“Thanks for being a cool bee-dude. Check out my house for your apology gift. You’ll find the hardest tea to swallow there… Reali-tea!”
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That slimy bitch just had to go out with a pun, didn’t he?